Knights: Legends of Ollanhar

by Robert E. Keller

  "I'm not disturbed," said Taris. His green eyes seemed to pierce deep into Faindan, scanning all of his secrets. Faindan felt exposed and wanted to slink off into the shadows.

  "Goodnight, then," Faindan said, starting toward the stairs.

  "Halt," Taris commanded.

  Faindan froze. He glanced back. "Yes, Lord Knight?" Taris' face looked evil in the crimson torchlight, and Faindan wondered if this was yet another trick of the Deep Shadow. Maybe it wasn't Taris at all, but a demon.

  "I am not finished speaking to you," said Taris. "Come closer, Faindan Stillsword."

  Faindan approached him slowly. Taris' eyes shone with an evil so potent that it sickened Faindan. Taris looked like he wanted to not only destroy him but make him suffer endlessly. Surely this was a demon.

  "You were standing over the trapdoor," said Taris. "You were considering going below. Is that correct? Be truthful, young Knight."

  Faindan hesitated, then nodded.

  "You reek of the Deep Shadow," said Taris, "and from lack of a bath. Your eyes are hollow from lack of sleep. You have thinned some from poor eating habits. You shun your duties and avoid everyone. These are clear signs of a sickness of the soul. The Deep Shadow has you firmly in its grasp."

  Faindan groaned. Taris knew everything. Faindan was exposed and it was all over. He wished he had leapt from a window and ended it. Now what would he do? "Am I to be punished?"

  "You have been punished enough," said Taris, "with the loss of your hand, and now this torment. And you have surrendered enough. It is time for you to shore up your will and fight back."

  These couldn't be the words of a demon, Faindan decided. Taris was only trying to help him, and the Deep Shadow was distorting Faindan's view of the Lord Knight. As Faindan realized that truth, Taris' face suddenly seemed less sinister--though Faindan still couldn't see Taris as he truly was.

  "It's useless," said Faindan. "I've tried fighting back, but the misery never ends. There is no way to defeat this foe that lurks in my mind."

  "You are not correct," said Taris. "I have endured tremendous pain--both physical and mental--from my wound." He touched his scarred cheek. "This wound came from the Deep Shadow and cannot be cured. But all pain can be overcome. Pain is no excuse to shun one's duties."

  "But you're a Birlote," said Faindan.

  "That means nothing," said Taris. "I know humans who have endured more misery than I have, and they still carried out their duties." His mind seemed to wander for a moment. Then he said, "I don't know what you ate or drank that was contaminated by the Deep Shadow, but I suspect it was a mushroom. Only a mushroom could poison your soul to such depths. I have been conducting a search of the tower grounds and following your movements, but no clue has been revealed. Regardless, the misery you feel may never be cured."

  "Then I'm doomed," said Faindan. "I just can't do this anymore. I wish it would all come to an end. Yes, even if it means my death."

  "Life is a precious gift," said Taris, "and not to be wasted. If you can conquer this misery and still serve others, your confidence will grow. The world will open back up to you, and things will improve."

  "How do I even begin?" asked Faindan. It seemed impossible.

  "Start by going outside," said Taris, "in daylight. Just go out on the tower grounds for a few moments. Breathe some fresh air. Practice with your sword a bit and try to summon the white fire. When you feel anxious, ignore it and go about your duties. If you have no duties, invent some."

  "I don't merely feel anxious," said Faindan. "When the torment reaches its peak, I feel an ache inside so unbearable...I can't even describe it. It's not that I want to die, but death seems like the only way to escape it."

  "It's only an illusion," said Taris. "Your mind generates your reality, and anything born of the mind can be conquered. This illusion limits your vision, making you think the only cure is death. By resisting it repeatedly, your vision expands again and you glimpse new opportunities that were always there."

  "But life feels hopeless," said Faindan. "All of it seems miserable and pointless. I think of those who have suffered, and I wonder if this universe is evil. Maybe we were born to be punished."

  Taris frowned. "Those are not the teachings of the Divine Essence, and you do not speak like a Knight of Dremlock."

  "My apologies," said Faindan. "But to be honest, Knighthood is not very important to me right now. I still value it, but my current situation demands all of my energy and attention."

  "Life is not pointless," said Taris. "And there is justice and good in this universe, even for those who have suffered tremendous loss. You were guided to Knighthood by the Divine Essence and gifted with the White Fire. That should hold great meaning for you. Take comfort in that, if nothing else."

  Faindan bowed. "I thank you, Lord Knight, for the advice. But once you depart, I'm not sure what will happen. I could..." He swallowed. "I could leap from a tower window, actually. I'm not sure I will. I've been trying to resist, but my will seems to be slowly weakening."

  "You could," said Taris, in a calm voice. "But that would be giving up. I suggest you work on building your endurance instead. Start small, with little victories, and let your confidence grow. You will learn to tolerate your condition."

  "But this a nightmare," said Faindan, with a groan.

  "It is an opportunity," said Taris, "to prove to yourself and others that the darkness can be defeated--whether darkness of the Deep Shadow, of the body, or of the mind itself. It matters not. If you show such courage, it will inspire others. I assure you that you will not regret the struggle."

  "I will try," said Faindan. "But isn't there any way to help ease this condition? What about a White Knight? Surely a healer can help."

  "We will try," said Taris, "but I suspect you will never be cured. If it was all in your mind, perhaps something could be done. But you're infested with dark sorcery as well, and I sense that it is beyond any healer. You must have eaten a particularly nasty mushroom. Perhaps tomorrow you can help me search for the spot it grew upon, for there may be other such mushrooms lurking there."

  "I remember nothing," said Faindan. Yet suddenly an image flashed through his mind of him kneeling over a bloated, fat, and slimy mushroom beneath a twisted oak tree. "Wait...in the forest, perhaps."

  "We will search there," said Taris, nodding. "For now you will return to bed and try to sleep. Let nothing trouble you, my young friend. Learn to empty your mind until sleep takes you. Let no thought arise."

  "I will try," said Faindan, sighing. "So that's it? You're going to leave me alone again? When I'm alone, that's when things get weird."

  "You have the task I assigned to you," said Taris. "If you focus your mind, you will master yourself. Your torment will diminish."

  "May I speak freely?" asked Faindan.

  Taris nodded. "You are on the Council of Ollanhar. You are welcome to speak freely anytime you wish."

  "Your advice is too simple," said Faindan. "You think people can just resist all this pain with willpower alone, because Birlotes have the ability to do so. Most people aren't like you, Taris. I'm not like you. I'm not sure I can go on."

  "I never said it was simple or easy," said Taris. "I merely offered you a technique for dealing with it. You can refuse the technique, but you could perish as a result. If you insist on killing yourself, no one can stop you. I have done all I can. You want more from me, but I have nothing to give. I sense a darkness in you that our greatest healers cannot remove. What more can I do, Faindan? You will either resist, or perish. I wish you luck."

  Faindan looked away. "That seems very cold, Taris."

  "It is your reality," said Taris. "And you must face it and make the choice. Goodnight." With that, Taris Warhawk left Faindan alone.

  For several moments, Faindan stood as still as a statue, wondering what he should do. He thought back to losing his hand--how he had surrendered to the pain and almost lost his Knighthood. Was he going to do it again, and this time lose his life?
He realized Taris was right. It was time to stop giving up.

  "I'll fight you to my last breath," he promised the darkness.

  He thought he heard quiet laughter. It sounded like that of Tenneth Bard, the Black Knight that Faindan had injured in battle. A winged shadow seemed to soar across the room and then vanish.

  Faindan steadied himself. "Time for bed," he said, trudging toward the stairs. "No more games." He could almost feel the tower groan in response.

  ***

  Faindan didn't meet with Taris for the next three days. He remained lost in his own little world, isolated from everyone. The first day was grueling, and though he put forth a strong effort, he was unable to convince himself to set foot outside. He went as far as to stand before the tower door, but the fear and anxiety proved too much for him. He returned to his room to hide.

  By noon of the third day Faindan's confidence had increased. He was still thoroughly miserable, but he had resisted and survived. He found small duties to perform and found a sense of accomplishment in completing those tasks. With those small victories to inspire him, he found himself standing before the tower door again. He gazed up at the dark stone slabs from which three Gargoyle faces leered down at him. He glared back at the grotesque sculptures in defiance, and then he became aware that two guards--muscular Red Knights--were watching him with curious expressions. The guards stood on either side of the door.

  "Let me out," said Faindan. "I need fresh air. Wait--I'll do it myself."

  The guards held back.

  Faindan pushed against the door, summoning his Knightly strength--a warmth spreading through his limbs. Slowly it swung open.

  As he walked out into daylight, one of the guards--a young Dwarf with a cheerful face--said, "Have a pleasant day, Master Faindan."

  Master Faindan? He felt unworthy to be called that, considering his dark struggles. But the young Knight probably didn't know about any of that, and he probably looked up to Faindan as a hero and a member of the Council of Ollanhar. Sighing, Faindan nodded to the guard. "Thank you."

  Yet he paused in the doorway, gripped by fear. His body trembled. If only the young Knight knew what Faindan was feeling, he would surely lose all respect for him. He tried to step forward, but he was convinced the world would devour him--that he would find a fate worse than death. The clearing was foggy, the sky a dark haze, and a damp chill hung in the air that seemed to penetrate Faindan's bones. He felt like a deadly storm was soon to be unleashed. It seemed even the weather was poised to destroy him.

  "Is something wrong, Master Faindan?" the Dwarf asked.

  "Nothing at all," Faindan lied. "Just contemplating." He patted his thigh. "My legs... My legs don't want to work right today."

  "Sorry to hear that," said the Dwarf. "Perhaps you need a healer."

  "Perhaps," said Faindan. Then, with a fierce effort, he took one step out onto the tower grounds. He waited, and when nothing happened, he took another. A few more steps, and the great door closed behind him. The tower seemed to shudder, as if this small victory of Faindan's had wounded it.

  Faindan breathed deeply, and he knew he would survive his condition. Nothing would stop him now. "Thank you, Taris," he whispered. Surely Taris had saved his life. He knew Taris would dispute that and claim it was Faindan alone who chose his fate, but Faindan would always be grateful to the Lord Knight.

  For a moment, the fog was gone from the clearing and he could see bright clouds overhead. Then the fog returned.

  "There is no fog," he told himself. "It's just a lie."

  ***

  The next day, Taris Warhawk took Faindan into the woods to search for the spot where the evil mushroom had grown. Taris waited patiently while Faindan struggled to remember. For an hour they walked slowly through the forest, as bits and pieces of the memory appeared in Faindan's mind, but nothing came of it.

  "You must focus," said Taris. "I am a busy man these days, Faindan. I don't have all day to wander in the woods." The grey-cloaked sorcerer's hood was up to shield against a light rain, most of his face lost in shadows beneath it. He leaned against an oak tree, frowning.

  "Sorry," Faindan mumbled. "I'm trying. I truly am. But the fog conceals everything, and the anxiety is terribly distracting." The frantic ache inside him was so intense he would have preferred a physical beating.

  "You know the fog is an illusion," said Taris, "just like your anxiety. You have to calm your mind and see through those barriers."

  It might have all been an illusion, but Faindan's reaction to it was real. His emotional distress was real. How was he supposed to control his mind the way Taris wanted him to? Once again he told himself it was because Taris was a powerful Birlote and had abilities a mere Norack like Faindan could never possess. Surely Taris expected too much of him. Faindan was supposed to endure constant suffering--a burning of the soul that was present day and night--and carry out his duties as if everything was fine. He had accepted the fact that he would never enjoy life again, but he wasn't even allowed to wallow in his misery. He was supposed to serve his god, his kingdom, and the people of the land without flinching.

  "Taris, you're not human," said Faindan. "How can you do it?"

  Taris touched his cheek, where the scars were concealed by shadow. "How can I do it? What else is there? I have known immense suffering, but I also take great satisfaction in life from my duties. I am indeed human, just like you. But unlike you, I have worked to strengthen myself to the point where I am able to live with my condition and actually prosper."

  "So you enjoy life?" said Faindan. "In spite of the pain?"

  "Yes," said Taris. "Very much so. I am quite happy to be here. At one point I was not, and I considered returning to Borenthia and into the care of the Council of Wizards. My torment was so great I thought it would kill me. But through hard work and focus I rose above that, and now I am quite satisfied with my position as Lord Knight. I have things to do that keep me busy."

  "That's a remarkable story," said Faindan. "And I have duties too, but not like yours. Lately, I don't seem to have many duties."

  "You're on the Council of Ollanhar," said Taris. "You have many duties, but your affliction has caused you to ignore them. Everyone has duties--even a prisoner in a boring dungeon cell. There is always a way to be productive and benefit others, and it is through helping others that we truly find ourselves."

  "I must...find myself," said Faindan. "That's it, isn't it? That's the whole issue here." He was lost in the fog, and he needed to know who he was and why he was here. "So serving others will help me do that?"

  Taris nodded. "It is your key to prosperity."

  "I'll work on it," said Faindan. "But first, I'll find where that mushroom is growing. If there are any others there, we must destroy them before they can..." He let his words trail off, gazing into the fog. Like white, skeletal fingers, the mist reached around the tree trunks--reaching for Faindan's throat.

  He took a deep breath and steadied himself. He meditated on finding the spot, and another clue was revealed--a memory of a mossy boulder shaped somewhat like a giant's head tilted sideways. He revealed his findings.

  Taris stepped away from the tree. "We passed that boulder earlier."

  They hurried off through the woods, and it didn't take them long to locate the boulder. Not far from it was a gnarled, twisted oak tree covered in moss. At the base of the tree grew three fat, ugly mushrooms. They were dark brown in hue with crimson spots. There was also a mushroom stem where one had been picked. As Faindan watched, a hideous purple centipede--not a natural insect but something mutated--crawled from the hollow stem and scurried off.

  Faindan gazed in horror at the mushrooms. "Did you see that insect?"

  "There was no insect," said Taris. "Only evil sorcery."

  It all came back to Faindan in a rush. He had been wandering the woods--defying orders out of boredom and neglecting his duties--when he happened upon the mushroom patch. He had suddenly found himself feeling ravenously hungry, and the mus
hrooms had looked impossible to resist. He had knelt over one and grabbed it. It had felt slimy in his hands and pulsating with life. As he had bitten into it, he was overcome by pleasure, thinking it was the most perfect thing he had ever tasted. But then it turned rotten and bitter in his throat, and he gagged. He tried to vomit it up, but his stomach refused to obey. Then all had gone dark.

  In a shaky voice, Faindan told Taris what he remembered.

  "You were tricked," said Taris, "obviously. A Divine Knight should know better, Faindan. This is very disturbing."

  "I'm obviously a fool of a Knight," said Faindan. "I keep getting myself cursed. Maybe I'm not meant for this." Gloom filled his heart.

  "You were indeed meant for this," said Taris. "The white fire proves that. The true problem is that you're reckless. Think back to when you fought with that Goblin in the moat, when Kuran Darkender's image appeared to you. You almost died then due to poor choices. You have brought this misery onto yourself."

  "I did," Faindan agreed, groaning.

  "You can do better," said the Lord Knight. "I expect you to make smarter choices in the days ahead. But now you must deal with this curse, regardless of how you acquired it. Learn from your mistakes, forgive yourself, and move on."

  "Are my mistakes forgivable?" asked Faindan.

  "Forgiveness is possible," said Taris, "if one is truly sorry for their actions and has truly changed. Only then can we forgive ourselves."

  "I am truly sorry," said Faindan. Then he paused. Was he? Had anything really changed, or was he just as reckless as he had always been? Surely he had learned something from this, he told himself. He definitely intended to avoid getting cursed again if possible.

  "I sense your doubt," said Taris. "The process will take time. Don't expect to master yourself overnight. You will have days of progress and days of setbacks on this journey. Just make sure your ultimate path leads forward."

  "I will," said Faindan. He drew his sword and summoned the white fire into the blade. "Time to rid the forest of this evil."