Knights: Legends of Ollanhar (4 page)

Unlike Dallsa, Lannon had killed many Goblins in the past,
and it didn't trouble him. It was the duty of a Knight. He drew his sword,
knowing he had to prove that he stood by his beliefs. He stepped forward and
gazed at the Foul Brothers. They gazed back at him with their dark eyes that
seemed to hold a hint of sadness. Lannon hesitated, and troubling thoughts
seeped into his mind, as if projected there by the Deep Shadow in an effort to
prevent him from completing his task. It wasn't their fault they had been born
Goblins. Lannon wasn't fond of killing at all--especially when his foes weren't
fighting back. He wanted them to lash out at him, but they remained calm and
passive, waiting and watching.

Lannon's troubled thoughts annoyed him. He knew it was the
Deep Shadow trying to play tricks on him so he would spare the Goblins. It was
doing whatever it could to protect the monsters standing before him.

Suddenly Lannon was smoldering with anger. "Stupid
beasts!" he muttered. Something was seizing control of him--a grim feeling
of power that flooded through his body. He was a Dark Watchman, not some
weak-willed loser who worried about whether or not Goblins should live or die.
A quick stroke of his blade would end them, and then all would be well.

"The Goblins are mine!" he said, raising his
sword. This was it. Lannon was going to give himself completely to his power.
He was tired of being thought of as a passive fighter who shunned violence. He
was convinced that others laughed at him behind his back, thinking that for all
his power he was a wimp. It was time to show them what he was made of--that a
Dark Watchman should be feared and respected. His sorcery surged into his
blade, as he prepared to strike.

"Don't kill them!" Taith pleaded.

Lannon heard Taith's voice, and he hesitated. He turned and
glared at the boy. "Why should I spare them?"

"I don't know," said Taith, looking desperate.
"But I know you should. Your...your face looks evil, Lannon. You're
different!"

"I'm different?" said Lannon. He pondered that.
He didn't think anything about him had changed. "Nonsense, Taith. It's a
trick of Tharnin. Now cover your eyes if you can't handle a bit of death and
destruction." Lannon chuckled. Taith was so pathetically weak. He would
have to learn to toughen up if he wanted to be a Knight. Lannon turned back to
his grim work, again preparing to strike.

Vorden seized Lannon's arm. "Wait...I think the boy is
right. You seem different somehow. Let me do this, Lannon."

Lannon shoved Vorden away. "Mind your own business.
You're the one who was tainted by the Deep Shadow, not me. I can control
myself." He felt enraged at Vorden for interfering. He wanted to punch him
in the jaw.

Vorden bowed his head in shame.

But Taith ran to Lannon and seized him, wrapping his arms
around him. "Just leave them alone, Lannon. You're not cruel like
that."

"It's not cruelty," said Lannon. But Taith's
words and actions had made him realize he was behaving strangely.

"Sheath your sword, Lannon," said Vorden. "I
sense the Deep Shadow at work in you. I can't prove it, but I know it's in
there."

"Vorden!" Aldreya's eyes widened. "That is a
very serious accusation. Lannon has every right to slay those Goblins."
She strode forward and seized Taith's arm, tearing him away from Lannon and
covering his eyes.

But Vorden refused to yield.

"Enough!" Jerret growled. He rose, drew his
broadsword, and made quick work of the Goblins and their Mother Tree, soaking
the back of the cave in black blood. When he was done, he cleaned his blade and
sheathed it.

"I guess that settles it," said Jace, yawning.

"Disgusting," said Dallsa, turning away with a
sigh.

Lannon simply stood in shocked silence, his sword dangling
from his hand. What had happened to him? What dark power had sought to seize
control? Was it truly the Deep Shadow as Vorden had insisted? Lannon wondered
if this was the beginning of the end for him--that downward path to evil that
all Dark Watchmen seemed to eventually walk. If so, could he stop it somehow?
Should he take his own life before it was too late? These thoughts swirled
through his mind and left him more miserable than he had ever felt before.

Dallsa clutched his shoulder. "Is everything okay,
Lannon?"

Lannon could only shake his head.

And then Jace was there, peering down at him. "Don't
fret, young man," said the sorcerer. "You were just having a moment.
Happens from time to time to the best of us. Calm yourself and have some
cheese." He smiled.

"What can I do?" Lannon asked, feeling helpless.

"Stay true to yourself," said Jace. "Or
something like that. And have some cheese." He waved something under
Lannon's nose.

Lannon's eyes slowly focused on the important object that
Jace was presenting to him. It was a chunk of cheddar with a few bites missing.

***

They tended to the horses, and then dried themselves with
sorcery. They sat in a circle on quilts, wondering how long the storm would
keep them prisoner. Everyone still seemed sullen and quick to anger.

"This cave reeks of evil," said Jace.
"That's why everyone is temperamental. The Deep Shadow comes in many
forms. It seeps into the blood."

Aldreya smirked. "And here I thought we were simply
being childish. Aren't Divine Knights supposed to be able to resist evil
influences?"

"Not all of them can," said Jace. He gave Aldreya
an exaggerated bow. "I don't mean you, of course. You are a strong Birlote
of royal blood and can resist anything." There was a hint of sarcasm in
his voice.

"I vote we argue it out," said Daledus. He
slapped the cave floor, sending up a cloud of dust. "Let's settle this
like Dwarves!"

Prince Vannas rolled his eyes. "Yes, we'll drink ale
until we can barely stand and then pummel each other with our fists. How very
civilized."

Daledus laughed. "Is that how you view us?"

"Unfortunately, yes," said Prince Vannas.
"Isn't that what Dwarves do?"

"That's what
I
do," said Daledus. "But
not all Dwarves."

"Just the extreme vast majority?" said Vannas.

Daledus' grin vanished. "You have a lot to learn, oh
prince. Put aside your little glow stone and I'll be happy to teach you."

"Here we go again," mused Lothrin. "Exactly
why I prefer solitude."

"I tell you it's the Deep Shadow," said Jace.
"No question about it." He stretched out on his quilt, his long body
taking up an annoying amount of space, his huge boots inches from Daledus'
beard. "I would rather sleep through all this nonsense. Wake me when the
storm ends."

The Grey Dwarf gazed down at the boots, frowning. When Jace
failed to move them, Daledus pushed his legs away. "Keep your stinking
feet away from me, sorcerer. This cave is foul enough without your boots in my
face."

Jace opened one eye. "That was quite uncalled
for."

"I vote we throw Jace out of the cave," said
Jerret, grinning. "Stinking boots and all."

"Try it," muttered Jace. "You might be built
like a bull, but you'll find this old sorcerer isn't so easily pushed
around."

"I'm growing weary of this," said Aldreya.
"If we can't get along, then we should all be silent. We're setting a poor
example for Taith."

"Yes, everyone be quiet," said Bekka. "I
would hate to have to knock some heads together. Can't we just enjoy being warm
and dry?"

Taith sat by Lannon, his face pale and full of worry. His
mind was on other issues besides the petty bickering.

Lannon hadn't said a word since the incident with the
Mother Nest. Instead he searched within himself for answers. How had he lost
control so easily? One moment he had been confident--sure of who he was--and
the next he was a completely different person who seemed to take delight in
power and violence. Somehow he had let his guard down and the Deep Shadow had
crept into his heart. It was a frightening realization. Tharnin had a way of
sneaking up on people, of disguising its presence until it was too late, which
was how it had been able to consume so many great Knights throughout history.
All Lannon could do was try to learn from this and constantly seek to guard
against it.

Outside, the storm began to let up. It would soon be time
to move on again, to at last put the Soddurn Mountains behind them. Lannon
would forever be left with bad memories of this place, of Galvia's death and
his own loss of control. He made the vow of a Knight--to someday return and
cleanse these mountains of evil so that the sun would shine upon the rocks and
fair breezes would blow through the peaks. But for now there were greater
battles to be fought.

It was time to enter new lands.

Chapter
3:

The Town called Red Barrel

It was a chill evening, with the parting clouds streaked
red by the setting sun, when the travelers at last left the Soddurn Mountains
behind. Lannon paused to glance back at the dark peaks that rose up against the
crimson sky. Chills crept over his flesh as he gazed upon that evil domain, and
then he turned his attention to the barren plains that stretched into the
distance before them.

The new lands didn't look like much, so far. The only signs
of life were grass and lone trees here and there. The soil was boggy,
crisscrossed by pale, fallen pines and dotted with boulders, but the fog and
rain were gone.

They continued on into the night, choosing to get as far
away from the mountains as possible. The ground became firm, and they found
themselves riding past cornfields and groves of hardwood trees.

With the stars cheerfully visible overhead, and an
occasional farmhouse here and there, the travelers felt great relief. But
Aldreya warned that something evil was following them. No one else could
glimpse it (not even Lannon), but she insisted she sensed a dark presence
watching them. Still, they relished the feeling that they had truly left the
grim shadow of the mountains behind. It was still a dangerous region--with
Goblins on the prowl, especially at night--but the signs of civilization around
there were a very welcome sight.

At last they camped next to a cornfield. Wolves howled
nearby throughout the night, and Vultures circled above--dark and ugly shapes
outlined against the stars. Lannon opted to keep first watch, and Bekka chose
to stay up with him. The two sat across from each other, a crackling fire
between them sending orange sparks into the air. It was a cold night, and they
had donned fur cloaks.

"The weather should warm," said Bekka, "as
we near the coast."

"Good," said Lannon, shivering beneath his fur
cloak. "Though I'm puzzled by that. Why is the weather so much warmer
there?"

Bekka shrugged. "That's the way it has always been.
Seldom do the coastal regions see snow or ice. The sun is brighter there, and
warm winds and water currents pass that way. The people rarely need furs or
quilts, and fruit is abundant. It's a blessing from the Great Light. What else
could it be?"

Lannon gazed into the distance. "I don't know. But
warm waters and sandy beaches seem a long way from the cold and barren Soddurn
Mountains. Our world is strange...so different from land to land."

"Perhaps," said Bekka. "Yet I fear that the
ocean--and whatever terrors await us there--will make us long for those
mountains. We're not journeying into a land of warmth and joy, but someplace
dreadful, where Bellis' greatest warriors have vanished without a trace."
She shivered.

"You're probably right," said Lannon, "but I
can't imagine it. All I'm picturing is sunshine and peaceful blue waters."

Bekka laughed. "Keep picturing it. Enjoy it while you
can."

They fell silent for a while, gazing at the fire. Bats
darted in and out of the circle of light. An owl hooted nearby from a small oak
grove.

Then Bekka rose unsteadily to her feet. She drew her Flayer
and practiced a few moves, sending blue fire into the blade.

"You should rest," said Lannon.

"No," she said. "I can't rest...not since
that monster bit me. All I can think about is improving, growing
stronger."

"You remind me of Jerret," said Lannon. "All
he ever wants to do is train. Believe it or not, he was once considered
lazy." Memories flashed through Lannon's mind of his own youth, and he
added, "Actually, so was I."

"He has become very powerful," said Bekka.
"His training has paid off, making him a Knight to fear. Well, a
former
Knight to fear anyway."

Bekka was barely able to stand, yet she kept practicing.

Lannon rose and wandered off into the darkness--to the edge
of the cornfield. He could sense a grim presence amongst the stalks, gazing out
at him. He stood and waited for it to speak. He was lost in shadow and Bekka
could no longer see him. That was just as well. He didn't want her trying to
assist him.

The Deep Shadow lurked in the corn--in some form or
another. It had crept down from the mountains and followed them, just as
Aldreya had warned. It had a message for Lannon that it whispered in his ear.
It had forgiven him for killing Lord Hathannis and it wanted him to surrender
himself and become a Knight of Tharnin. It promised him wealth and prosperity
beyond his imagination.

Lannon thought of Taith. What if such an offer of
prosperity was made to the boy? Would he be able to resist it?

With two Dark Watchman serving Dremlock, surely one of them
would eventually fall to the Deep Shadow. But who would it be?

"It won't be me," Lannon said aloud.

A pair of yellow eyes gazed at him from the corn.

"Do you hear me?" Lannon declared boldly.
"It won't be me!"

The eyes moved closer, revealing a bulky shadow behind them
and a foul stench that like that of an ancient tomb. "You are so certain
of this," came an inhuman whisper. "But even if you resist us, others
will fall."

Lannon drew his sword. He swore to himself he would resist
the will of the Deep Shadow. He had to. Far too much was at stake.

"And it won't be anyone else, if I have my say,"
he added, thinking of Taith.
I won't let you corrupt the boy,
he vowed.

He thought he heard a quiet laugh.

"Go back to your mountain lair," Lannon commanded,
"and don't seek me again." As he finished speaking, he realized the
shadow was already gone. Only the dark and silent cornstalks remained.

***

The next day, they encountered many farms. They met other
travelers along the road, some who greeted them warmly and some who regarded
them with fear and suspicion--with the latter folks possibly mistaking them for
Knights of Bellis. Many roads led off in many directions, and no one was
journeying toward the Soddurn Mountains. Only an utter fool, a madman, or
someone truly desperate would dare take that ancient route.

I guess that makes us truly desperate
, Lannon
thought.

It was a sunny day, a bit cool, and the smell of fall was
in the air. The tree leaves were showing traces of gold and red. Wood smoke from
chimneys drifted over the land, filling the riders' nostrils with a pleasant
and inviting scent that spoke of warm fires and hot food. They were eager to
reach Red Barrel and secure a good meal. They were tired of jerky and cheese
and wanted something tender to sink a fork into.

"I crave three loves of bread," said Jace,
licking his lips. "Maybe four. Yes, I think four will do. How far are we
from that town?"

"Bread is the food of weaklings," said Daledus,
"and those with big bellies. Give me a platter of beef and a piece or
three of buttered squash. And some ale to wash it all down." He patted his
belly. "Hard as stone."

Jace waved dismissively. "The boring diet of a
warrior. Not enough sugar. I love my cakes, pies, and puddings. Life is too
short not to indulge. I would rather die happy at the young age of two-hundred
and twenty than have a boring existence and live to be four hundred."

Bekka lifted her tunic, revealing flawless muscles beneath
her dark skin. "How does my belly look to you, Dwarf?"

Daledus nodded in approval. "Woman, those muscles look
as hard as Dragon scales. Not bad for a Norack."

Dallsa smiled at Bekka. "You are becoming such a
mighty warrior. Most Knights could not have healed so quickly--if at all--from
that terrible wound. Even Shennen Silverarrow would be impressed."

Bekka shook her head. "I don't deserve Shennen's
praise. Not yet."

"Keep training, Bekka," said Prince Vannas.
"Someday you will be half the warrior that Shennen is." His face bore
a serious expression.

Bekka glared at him and balled up her fist. "Now I
just want to knock you off your horse, little prince. If only my strength was
back."

Vannas shrugged. "Just stating the truth."

"Shennen will always be the best," Jerret agreed.
"No one can come close. It would be an honor to be half the warrior he
is."

Bekka turned toward the mercenary. "So you need to be
knocked off your horse too, I see." She raised her fist. "As soon as
I'm healthy, I'm going to give you and the prince a good beating."

Jerret chuckled. "Why be so angry, my love?" He
drew his horse up alongside hers. "Why give me a beating when a kiss would
be so much more pleasant?" He puckered up his lips and leaned toward her.

"Not a chance," muttered Bekka. "Jerret, I'm
going to rip out your lungs and stomp on them before all is said and
done."

Jerret ceased his behavior and drew back, his face somber.
"Don't take it so seriously. I was only joking, Bekka."

She drew her Flayer and swatted him on the back with the
flat of it. She laughed. "I never take you seriously. But I
will
cut off your lips if you lean in on me like that again."

Daledus roared laughter.

Looking grumpy, Jerret slowed his horse and let her move
ahead. Lately, his moods changed swiftly and without warning. Galvia's death
and the loss of his Knighthood weighed heavily on him day and night. He tried
to pretend he was unaffected, but he often failed miserably at the task.
Everyone knew he was hurting inside. What they didn't know was where that pain
would lead him--if more trouble awaited him in the role of a lawless mercenary.

They rode on without speaking for a few miles.

Then Bekka whispered to Lannon, "I see flashes of the
old Jerret there, but he's still struggling inside. His soul is wounded."

Lannon nodded and mumbled, "He'll figure it out. He just
needs time." Yet Lannon wasn't so certain. Jerret was unpredictable and
dangerous--stronger than all but a few Divine Knights and extremely skilled,
with a mighty blade to match his abilities. His future seemed lost in a murky
fog, and a future like that was sure to get noticed by the Deep Shadow. Jerret
lived for combat and bloodshed, and Tharnin favored warriors like him and was
sure to offer him a lofty position within its ranks at some point. Jerret was
extremely stubborn--but with the loss of his Knighthood, could he be swayed to
turn against Dremlock?

Bekka seemed to read Lannon's mind. "This is how the
Blood Legion began--with Knights of Dremlock getting expelled from the
Order." She still held her Flayer in one hand, as if too weary to sheath
it. The act of swatting Jerret's back with it seemed have taken a lot out of
her.

"Yes," said Lannon, who knew the stories well.
"It all started with Tenneth Bard, the bitter Black Knight. The same
Tenneth Bard who nearly killed me in the woods not too long ago and who still
plots against Dremlock after all these centuries. He has never forgiven our
kingdom for banishing him."

"And many have followed in his footsteps," said
Bekka, still whispering. "We will have to watch Jerret closely in the days
ahead."

Lannon gave a quick nod, not liking the idea but knowing it
was necessary. "Better keep an eye on me as well," he said.
"After all, I'm a Dark Watchman and we know what became of them."

"Truthfully," said Bekka, "I won't be doing
much watching of anyone. I'll probably be sleeping a lot in the days ahead, if
I can deal with the nightmares. It's taking every ounce of my strength just to
ride and talk with you. But I hate to sleep right now. I can't explain how
terrible it is. I have no words for it."

"Dallsa can help you," said Lannon, feeling deep
sympathy for her plight. Bekka was obviously in dire need of sleep, but she was
choosing the lesser of two tortures--forcing herself to ride even as her
eyelids fought to slip shut and her muscles could barely support her.

"Dallsa is doing all she can," said Bekka.
"She's tired too."

Her eyelids finally won the battle and closed. Her body
sagged to one side. The Flayer slipped from her hand and fell to the dirt.

Lannon propped her up in the saddle. Then he summoned the fallen
Flayer to his hand and placed it in her sheath.

"Rest easy, Bekka," he said.

Her eyelids fluttered open. Then her hand clamped down on
the sheath. Finding her Flayer there, her eyelids closed again. For a few
moments she appeared peaceful, and then a dreadful moan escaped her lips and
her body shook as the dark sorcery gnawed at her soul.

***

Red Barrel was a town in the middle of nowhere. It was
occupied by farmers, fur trappers, and Rangers. Bellis Kingdom's oppressive
presence was not felt there due to the town's remote location, and many of the
Rangers from Silverland had moved there to escape being harassed by King
Verlamer's soldiers. There were plenty of farms that needed protecting from
Goblins, and plenty of travelers seeking to be escorted through areas were
bandits prowled the roads.

The town appeared small at first glance--with only a single
large inn, a stable, a forge, and a few shops that held high quality goods
located along a dusty street. There were also several vegetable stands and tiny
trading posts where one could purchase animal and Goblin hides. But it was
actually a sprawling village where a lot of business took place behind closed
doors in homes. The town had gone into hiding from Bellis and its ruthless
taxes, the signs removed from the doors and windows, but it remained a popular
business destination.

Red Barrel was pleasant, with a few sprawling oaks nestled
between the buildings and a friendly atmosphere. At least, that's how it
appeared as the travelers rode along the street.

But the Red Barrel Inn was not so friendly. Evening was
approaching, and the inn was full of rugged farmers and trappers who distrusted
outsiders, and Rangers who had no love for Divine Knights. The tavern was
packed with drunk and rowdy folk looking for a fight. Most of them stood or sat
at oak tables playing dice and card games, eating, chatting, making threats,
arm wrestling, or just drinking themselves into a stupor. Dead Goblins were
mounted on the walls or in corners, their dark, evil eyes gleaming in the light
of lantern and fire.