Knights: Legends of Ollanhar

by Robert E. Keller

  "Be my guest, young Knight," said Taris. "Do what a Divine Knight is supposed to do and make war upon the Deep Shadow."

  Faindan hesitated, as the mushrooms whispered to him and sought to persuade him to spare them. It was the voice of Tharnin seeking to protect its children--seeking to manipulate Faindan like a puppet.

  "Now is the time," said Taris, watching intently.

  Faindan shored up his will, and the burning blade fell upon the mushrooms, leaving only ash beneath the proud and ancient oak.

  Chapter 11:

  The Lonely Path of Trenton Shadowbane

  Trenton was tired, his feet starting to drag a bit as he walked the forest trail. He had no idea where he was going or what he was going to do. He hadn't put much thought into this plan. Had he taken time to contemplate it, he might have chosen to remain a Knight. This was something that had to be done without thought or hesitation. Right up until the moment he had announced his retirement, he had thought he might back out and continue to enjoy the comforts that an elite Knight of Dremlock was privileged to receive. But to his shock he had actually gone through with it, and here he was, alone and without a coin to his name.

  Trenton had left everything behind in protest--even his fancy sword. He had taken only basic clothing, a dagger, and a canteen. As hunger gnawed at his belly, he couldn't help but wonder if his protest was too extreme. He could have brought plenty of provisions and silver with him. Certainly Taris would have made sure that Trenton had whatever he needed to secure a good life. But he had felt so wretchedly mistreated that he didn't want to give Dremlock the satisfaction.

  Perhaps he was just a petty old fool. What was he trying to prove? People invested a lifetime of work into projects, and sometimes those projects failed. It was simply the way of things. But maybe Trenton had been growing bored with Knighthood and the struggle against Bellis and had wanted a different sort of challenge--one where he would have to rely on his skills and wisdom for survival. Was that what this was actually all about?

  "What have you done, you fool?" he whispered to himself, as he sat down on a log beside the trail. What he had done was throw away everything. He had quit the service of Dremlock and the Divine Essence--had quit the High Council!--and that was almost considered a traitorous act. He would never be allowed to enter the kingdom again and would never be honored for his service. He would receive only what mention was necessary for the accuracy of the records.

  He couldn't help but chuckle. He was a wandering sorcerer now--like Jace. Except he lacked Jace's broad range of skills. The one thing Trenton could do well was summon the beast, and the beast was only useful in battle. But he couldn't even do that now. The beast had been shamed and would never return--not that Trenton was troubled by that fact, as he no longer needed the beast. He was no longer a part of Dremlock's struggle. All that mattered now was deciding what he wanted to do in life and trying to make a go of it. Trenton was a skilled Knight and could summon fire to his blade and strength to his body, and he knew a few simple tricks of sorcery. Such abilities could allow him to find employment in the right town.

  A former Green Knight working a common job? He shook his head. It was indeed an embarrassment, but if anyone dared mock him, Trenton planned to tell that person exactly why he had left Dremlock. He would hold nothing back. He wasn't required to keep the reasons for his retirement a secret.

  He cut a pole and, using strips of cloth that he tore from his cloak, lashed his dagger to it to make a spear. After waiting by the trail for a couple of hours, he was able to bring down a deer. Trenton then built a fire in the road and roasted some venison. He ate until he was satisfied and then lay down to sleep.

  He lay awake for hours as noises from animals and insects came from all around him. At one point a snake slithered past his head--so close that it brushed against his ear. He didn't care. He didn't feel like building a shelter on this night. Let the snakes and spiders crawl over him, he told himself. Such living conditions would strengthen his resolve and determination to survive.

  He was just beginning to drift off to sleep when he heard a loud hiss. He assumed it was another snake--but this one sounded like it might be trouble. He sat up and drew his dagger. The fire had burned down to coals, so he sent flame into his blade. He shone the burning weapon about, but there was no sign of a snake. Then he noticed a pair of red lights in the dark forest trail.

  He leapt up and held the dagger forth. "Who's there?"

  There was no answer except another hiss.

  Trenton's heart raced. Could this be Tenneth Bard come to destroy him when he was alone? If it was the Black Knight, he was certain he could not defeat him in battle without help from the beast.

  The red lights drew closer, but remained outside the glow of his blade. Trenton realized they were the eyes of some tall creature.

  "Who are you?" Trenton demanded. "Show yourself."

  "I prefer the shadows," came the inhuman reply. "They are my home. And yours as well, now that you've lost everything."

  "What do you want from me?" asked Trenton.

  "I have come to make an offer," said the creature.

  Then Trenton understood. "Go away, slave of Tharnin. You will not tempt me to join your wretched cause."

  "You have not heard my offer," said the creature. "You are a former Green Knight and worthy of a lofty position. You could be a Black Knight, Trenton Shadowbane, and command vast armies. You could be wealthy beyond anything Dremlock ever offered you. You could be respected and honored and could call upon whatever sorcery suits your needs. You could be anything you want and even live forever. Endless pleasure, as you dominate others."

  "I reject your offer," said Trenton, without hesitation. "I would rather die poor and alone than be a slave to the Deep Shadow. And how did you learn so quickly of my retirement?"

  "There is a spy at Ollanhar," said the creature.

  "I shall report this to the Council," said Trenton. "Your spy will be discovered and arrested."

  "Why bother?" said the creature. "You were sent away in humiliation and disgrace. Why would you help Dremlock? Will they even tolerate you visiting their precious tower now that you're a scorned outcast?"

  Trenton didn't answer, but pain filled his heart. The creature was right. This was not his business anymore. He needed to let it go.

  "This is a shame," said the creature. "The way they treated you after all of your years of service and dedication--banning you from the Sacred Temple as if you are some monster unworthy of the light. Tharnin would never treat you so badly. We would welcome you with joy and celebration."

  "And make me a puppet," said Trenton.

  "No, not a puppet," said the creature. "You would serve willingly and remain free and independent. A Knight of your stature would never be made a slave. You would be a lord and commander. Or you can slink off into the shadows, find some pathetic job to waste your hours upon, and die in obscurity. Tharnin is the way of the future here. You know that Dremlock's long reign is at last coming to a close. Soon the Divine Kingdom will lie in ruins, the Knights living on only as legends and mythology. It is over for them, but not for you, Trenton. You still have a chance to do so much good in this world, to bring real change."

  Trenton shook his head. "You offer much--but at the expense of my soul. In order to join your cause, I would have to turn my back on my honor, and without honor what do I have? It would be an empty existence."

  "Just consider my offer," said the creature. "Take all the time you need. I will visit you again."

  "Do as you wish," said Trenton, "but my answer will be the same. I will not join forces with the Deep Shadow. I would rather be dead."

  "You're emotional right now," said the creature. "That is understandable, considering how poorly you were treated. In time, you may come to think clearly and decide on a better path."

  "Don't count on it," said Trenton. "And now I want to see what you really are." He stepped forward, shining his fire at the creature.

 
Standing before Trenton was a towering Barloak Demon dressed only in a red loincloth. It was a thin, almost skeletal Ogre with pointed ears, red eyes, and purple flesh. It was grinning--revealing a mouthful of pointed, black teeth. Its long fingers tapered into black claws.

  Trenton nodded. "So, another one that the Crimson Flamestone failed to destroy. How many of you are left in this land?" Standing before such a monster was deeply chilling, making Trenton's legs feel weak. Trenton could sense its massive power. He had no doubt that the demon could slay him if it chose to. Even a former Green Knight was no match for this creature.

  The demon's grin vanished and it hissed at Trenton, angered by the mention of the mighty Flamestone. "No need to poke a nerve, Trenton. I came to you with a friendly offer. You can take it or leave it."

  "You heard my reply," said Trenton. "Now go back to the darkness you crawled out of and trouble me no more."

  "You'll see me again," said the demon. "It is my duty to recruit elite warriors for Tharnin, and I get what I want. Understand that I won't give up on you. I won't stop until you realize this is the greatest opportunity you've ever had."

  Trenton sighed.

  The demon waited for a moment, then said, "Just think it over." Then it stepped back into the shadows. The red eyes vanished.

  Trenton stepped forward, shining his fire.

  An unnatural fog hung where the demon had been, slowly dissipating, but there was no sign of the creature. Trenton decided it must have slipped quietly into the forest. How a creature that large could move so silently was beyond Trenton. Could the demon have teleported itself somehow? Such sorcery was unknown to Trenton and seemed outlandish, but he had to admit to himself that anything was possible when it came to the magic of Tharnin.

  "Back to the snakes and spiders," Trenton muttered to himself, as he lay down near the bed of coals that had been his campfire. Trenton found snakes and spiders to be fine company compared to the creatures of the Deep Shadow.

  Chapter 12:

  The Giant of Callaboren

  With some help from the Eye of Divinity, Lannon and Doomar managed to avoid the Hill Dwarves. It wasn't easy, though, as the forest was bustling with enraged Malrogs on the hunt. Lanterns and torches bobbed amongst the tree trunks, and the two escapees had to keep moving to dodge the lights. Whenever the two thought it was safe to take a rest and perhaps even sleep a bit, the Malrogs would close in on them and they were forced to flee.

  By the next morning, Doomar began to feel ill and his pace slowed considerably. He kept clutching his stomach and groaning. They had to stop frequently to rest. Finally Doomar lay down in the leaves, refusing to go on.

  "What's wrong?" Lannon asked. He had assumed Doomar was suffering from too much exertion and too little sleep, but now he wondered if something more serious was going on. The Dwarf looked wretched, his face pale and twisted with pain, and he was breathing hard.

  Doomar didn't answer, so Lannon asked again.

  "Poison," Doomar said at last. "I'm certain of it. When I was in the dungeon, the guard must have put something in my food. He despises me for killing the warrior who tried to lock me in irons. They all hate me now."

  "But why poison you?" asked Lannon. "They were going to execute you anyway." This was grim news. For all his abilities, Lannon couldn't cure poison (at least as far as he knew).

  "My execution wasn't certain," said Doomar. "The guard must have wanted to make sure I was finished off one way or another. But I have a strong constitution. I can survive this, if I can just get to my home. I need good food, clean water, and some bed rest. My body will heal on its own."

  "I'll have to carry you," Lannon said reluctantly. He was very weary, but what choice did he have? "How far are we from your village?"

  Doomar shrugged. "I'm not sure exactly where we are. We traveled so far in the dark that I lost my way."

  They were still surrounded by wooded hills. If Doomar was wrong, it would be quite easy for them to walk in a big loop and end up deep in enemy territory again. But Lannon had dealt with a similar situation before, when he had been lost in Old Hill Forest and pursued by the dead.

  "I have an idea," said Lannon. "If I can glimpse your village from here, I can lead us there. But I need to know what to look for."

  Doomar nodded. "Look for an ancient wooden guard tower. It should be rising high above the trees on a hilltop. It marks the edge of my village. It is a structure left from the days when the Malrogs made war on others."

  "I'll need to find a tall hill," said Lannon, "with a tall tree."

  It didn't take them long to locate a worthy hill. Lannon climbed to the top of a towering beach tree. It took him several moments to find the guard tower, as it was far in the distance and just barely visible in the haze. But once he spotted it, the Eye locked onto the target and would not forget.

  Lannon climbed down again. He lifted the Dwarf over his shoulder. Doomar groaned. "Stay strong," Lannon told him. "I'll have you there soon." Telling such a massive Dwarf to stay strong sounded ridiculous to Lannon's ears.

  They set off again.

  After hours of uneventful travel, they crossed a stone bridge webbed in vines. The bridge spanned a wide, rocky river. Colorful cliffs that blended with the fall leaves rose up from the forest. The bridge led them out of the Malrog lands and into a region where the Malrogs seldom ventured. They were certain they had escaped the Hill Dwarves. They took a celebratory rest before moving on again.

  It was late in the afternoon, and as they journeyed through the rocky forest beyond the river, the shadows deepened around them. Lannon had been hoping they would reach Doomar's home by nightfall, but it now seemed quite unlikely. Doomar was still sick (and currently unconscious) and Lannon was exhausted from carrying the heavy Dwarf. And though they had eaten a few small meals of plants that day, the gnawing hunger remained.

  The Eye of Divinity eventually led them onto a winding road. Lannon could see log cabins here and there. They passed a tavern called The Duck Overlord that displayed a huge statue of, of course, a duck. The duck wore an iron helm and held a spear in its beak.

  Lannon woke Doomar and revealed what he saw.

  "We're not far from my home," said Doomar. "This tavern lies just outside the town of Callaboren."

  "The Duck Overlord?" Lannon asked, raising his eyebrows.

  "Excellent little tavern," said Doomar. "They serve wonderful duck soup called The Overlord's Delight. Very peaceful place."

  "Why a duck?" asked Lannon.

  "It's a great symbol of the warrior," said Doomar. "Didn't you know that? When the duck is with you in battle, you never need to duck." He passed out again and broke into loud snores.

  Still baffled, Lannon moved on. Had Doomar been babbling nonsense? Lannon wasn't sure. But the possibility that he was close to the Dwarf's home invigorated him, and he picked up the pace.

  ***

  Doomar's house was on the very edge of town, in the woods. It was a tall dwelling with a long shed attached to it. It was a strange home. Twisted iron masks decorated the trees in the yard, leering at Lannon like demon faces, and iron gnomes holding gardening tools stood in flower beds in gleeful poses. The large, oaken front door featured a brass doorknocker shaped like an Ogre's hideous face. Doomar no longer had a key, but Lannon used the Eye to unlock the door.

  The house's interior was as strange as the yard. The oak walls of the living room were adorned with deliberately ugly, oversized Dwarven weapons and more odd-looking iron masks. Bizarre metal statues stood in the corners--skeletons fused together and bearing horrified expressions, bleeding serpents winding around each other, and a tall pillar adorned with tortured faces, gargoyles, and reaching hands. Lannon had seen this style of art before--at Dremlock. It was called Old Garthane, and it was somewhat controversial at the holy kingdom. But Doomar's art seemed even more dark, sinister, and strange, leading Lannon to wonder what sort of tormented thoughts lurked in the deepest reaches of the Dwarf's mind.

  Lannon laid
Doomar on a couch. The Dwarf's eyes were half open, and Lannon wasn't sure if he was asleep. Lannon found some matches and got a fire crackling in the stone fireplace. He then found some ingredients for a stew--along with bread and cheese--and soon had a kettle boiling on the stove.

  The two ate heartily, though Doomar struggled to keep his food down. Eating seemed to aggravate his stomach all the more, but Doomar insisted that he needed food to recover.

  "I especially need meat," said the Dwarf. "Perhaps tomorrow you can journey into town for me and purchase some beef. Fatty meat invigorates Dwarves and makes it easier for us to fight off illnesses."

  Lannon hadn't actually planned to stay very long, as his companions were continuing on without him. But he couldn't leave Doomar in such a grim condition. "I'll need some money," he said.

  "I have money," said Doomar. "No need to worry about that. But there is something you do need to worry about. A giant plagues this town, a wretched bully sent by Bellis to rule over us. The people of Callaboren hate him, but are also terrified of him. He demands taxes we cannot afford to pay and constantly harasses people. Those who challenge him are snapped in two like sticks."

  "A Thallite?" asked Lannon.

  Doomar nodded. "He stands at least a dozen feet tall. I've wanted to do battle with him more than once, but it would have been suicide. I've seen powerful men lifted into the air and heard their bones snap. It was sickening." The Dwarf shuddered. "Not even you would dare oppose him, Lannon. Just avoid him if possible. If he gives you an order, obey."

  Lannon frowned. "I suppose it depends on the order." A Thallite was an extremely dangerous foe, even when matched against a Dark Watchman. Lannon had no desire to battle the giant, but he wasn't necessarily willing to obey an unjust order simply for the sake of peace.

  Doomar shook his head. "Don't do it, Lannon. You're stronger than any Norack or Dwarf, but we're talking about a giant here. He will crush you into pudding, my friend." Doomar got so agitated that he went into a coughing fit. When he was done, he sighed deeply. "Perhaps you better not go."