Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar
Page 54
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After Lannon pushed his way through the sorcerous cloud and reached the bottom of the stairs, he stood facing a long hallway lined with stone coffins--a tomb for Olrog warriors who had died defending the fortress. The coffins were adorned with Dwarven runes that told of heroic deeds. Water had leaked down the walls and into cracks, giving rise to mold, and a musty stench hung in the air.
Perfect smell for a tomb, Lannon thought.
Lannon wasn't overly fond of Olrog tombs, and his gaze passed over his surroundings quickly. Nevertheless, the Eye gave him odd glimpses of things that haunted his mind. The Deep Shadow was like a serpent here--a monstrosity stretched along the hall, burrowing into the coffins and binding them all together. A haze of evil hung about the bones of the dead. It seemed evil lived to create a maze in which all things were snared and confused, and where evil was found, this labyrinth always existed. The Eye of Divinity traced the body of the serpent, seeking an end to it--but the head devoured the tail and created a loop of confusion. The maze was impenetrable to the light and that was why evil could hide itself so easily in the midst of honorable hearts. The serpent shifted endlessly, twisting about as it burrowed through the world, a leviathan of suffering.
Groaning, Lannon drew the Eye partially inside him. He hated seeing such things, for they were troubling and confusing--knowledge that seemed ultimately meaningless. Why did the Eye show him such strange sights? He felt he would never have an answer to that question.
As Lannon proceeded on, the tunnel seemed to grow even more ancient--the walls crumbling around him. The coffins were left behind--replaced by holes in the walls where the bones of the dead lay. Each hole contained an empty iron candle holder as well. Thick Dwarven skulls peered out at him from amongst rib bones and bits of tattered cloth. The musty stench was far worse here, making Lannon gag. These wall chambers were reserved for Priests of Tharnin who were forbidden to be placed in coffins after death. Their flesh had been removed from the skeletons and the skeletons laid within the chambers in blue robes. However, something had disrupted the bones over time and they were strewn about.
The Eye glimpsed deeper knowledge. The priests were not allowed coffins because they had considered that a sign of vanity. And they were entombed with no other possessions besides the plain blue robes for the same reason. They had left the world as they had entered it--with no material goods. In spite of serving a realm of evil, they had been utterly devout to the end.
As Lannon hurried down the long passageway, his mind kept roaming back to the dead priests and why they had so staunchly served an evil cause. They had obviously believed wholeheartedly in what they were doing, leading lives of endless toil and sacrifice for their dark god--even giving up everything they had before death to spend eternity with a monster. Granted, Graylius wasn't the worst of the Tharnin deities (he had turned his back on the Shadow Realm, but he was still a warlike beast that sought conquest). How had they become so misguided as to put such fervent efforts into something so wrong? The Eye couldn't answer that question, and neither could Lannon. It troubled him deeply.
Lannon sensed danger ahead, but he proceeded on anyway with sword in hand. Dark Watchman or not, moving through this moldy tomb of the ancient dead that was infested with evil sorcery was an unnerving experience for Lannon. He trusted his skills, but he was well aware that he wasn't invincible. He had come close to death multiple times since joining the ranks of Dremlock's Knights, and he knew that a situation could turn dire in an instant.
Moments later five Ghouls crawled out of the tomb holes and scurried up the walls, watching Lannon with their gleaming eyes. They were quiet as shadows as they crept about over the crumbling stone.
There was something shocking and horrific about the way they moved--extremely swift, sudden motions that reminded Lannon of scurrying insects. Yet it went beyond the natural world and spoke of true evil. These weren't simple, lumbering Goblins but intelligent creatures caught between life and death, their bodies animated with foul sorcery. They were puppets. Their enslavement was tragic and disgraceful, and only the sword could free them now.
Lannon waited patiently for the attack to come, but only one of the Ghouls leapt at him. It was an impressive leap--as the Ghoul shot from the wall as if it had exploded off the stony surface. But Lannon was ready, the Eye guiding his blade to match the unnatural speed of his foe. He skewered the Ghoul with his sword and shoved it against the wall. The monster hissed at him, clawing at the bony blade, fanged jaws opening and closing. Lannon withdrew his weapon and stepped back. As the Ghoul lunged at him, he beheaded it.
He glanced up--to find the other Ghouls scurrying away along the walls. Soon they were lost from view.
He let them escape and moved on. He suspected they would try to ambush him at some point, but his focus was on finding the prince.
Lannon was overcome with a strange sensation that he had experienced in the recent past--some kind of odd battle lust. He found himself eager for more combat, anxious to test his growing skills. A voice in his mind whispered that this fortress was a great place for him to prove himself. He wanted to kill the Barloak Demon--if that's what indeed his foe was--and conquer Wallrock Fortress. The thought of it sent a surge of energy through him.
Lannon didn't trust this feeling, as it was out of character for him. Typically he wanted to avoid combat and didn't care about making boasts or proving himself. Yet he couldn't deny how powerful it was. He felt like a truly dangerous warrior--one his foes should be terrified of. And he liked it.
Lannon paused, struggling with his thoughts. He told himself that he didn't want to turn into Jerret--a rampaging barbarian with bloodlust in his heart. Jerret was not the ideal Knight of Dremlock or servant of the Divine Essence, as he seemed to lack peacefulness and gentleness. Lannon told himself these things, but his heart still smoldered with the desire for combat. Ultimately he was forced to ignore the feeling and move on.
Soon Lannon found himself wandering a sprawling maze of tunnels, in which he saw many strange sights--such as dungeon cells packed full of human bones, gruesome torture chambers, and halls lined with incredibly lifelike Dwarven statues. He did not encounter the escaped Ghouls, and he was disappointed. He still hungered for combat, but there were no enemies to be found.
At last the strange feeling departed from Lannon and he returned to normal. He was left wondering if the curse of the Dark Watchmen had temporarily had him in its clutches, and he shuddered. Was this what the future held for him? For a moment he faltered, wondering if he should go on. He remembered Vorden's warning about the danger of losing himself in this fortress.
But then Lannon's thoughts focused on Taris Warhawk. The legendary sorcerer had great faith in Lannon and believed Lannon could overcome the curse of his predecessors. Lannon took comfort in that.
Soon Lannon located Prince Vannas' trail, and his excitement grew. Vannas had been alive very recently--though Lannon also sensed the presence of the immensely powerful creature. The trail was strong and easy to follow. The only question now was whether or not Lannon could avoid a fight.