Jerret smirked. “How do you know it’s a human under that cloak? Could be a Goblin Lord, or some demon of Tharnin.”
Aldreya gazed at him sternly. “I’m making an assumption. I’m allowed to do that now and then, aren’t I?”
Lannon summoned the Eye of Divinity—the rare and divine power that gave him the ability to glimpse hidden and even guarded knowledge. His consciousness split, until he became like two separate beings, and then from the space that existed between his divided selves emerged the force of the Eye, reaching out to probe the figure on horseback. But all Lannon could glimpse was a male human presence shielded by shifting shadows, indicating that the rider was a very powerful foe who could conceal himself with dark sorcery.
Lannon’s hand locked around the hilt of his Dragon-bone sword. “He’s a sorcerer of some kind, probably sent by Bellis or the Blood Legion.”
“Is he skilled?” asked Aldreya, without turning.
“As dangerous as they come.” Lannon could sense that Aldreya was eager to test her skills. “You’re not ready to deal with this foe.”
“Never said I was.” She sounded a bit irritated. Aldreya was the apprentice of the famed Birlote sorcerer and current Lord Knight of Dremlock known as Taris Warhawk, and she had developed skills few magic users would ever unlock. But whoever lurked beneath that black cloak had a will of iron—the rare ability to resist the mighty Eye of Divinity—and even Aldreya was no match for him.
“I’ll deal with the rider,” said Prince Vannas. The lean Tree Dweller glanced at Aldreya for confirmation. “If you approve, of course.”
“I do not,” said Aldreya. “You have the siege engines to deal with, and the Trolls and Ogres too. Lannon and I will confront the leader. Surely the two of us will be more than he can handle.”
“One would think,” said Lannon, but he wasn’t sure. The ability to resist the Eye always unnerved him.
“We’re outnumbered,” said Bekka Nightspear, shielding her eyes from the sun as she gazed at the Goblin army. The tall, muscular, dark-skinned warrior was in charge of the Blue Knights, and she had become a close friend to Aldreya. “We’ve got thirty warriors against…at least a hundred Goblins.”
“And these are not just any Goblins,” Lannon pointed out. He could see the strange shadows that clung to the monsters. These were the mysterious Dark Goblins (as they had come to be named) that were stronger, faster, and smarter than the typical ones. They were also more resistant to injury.
The dark rider moved out from beneath the oak tree—until he sat alone with the Goblin army behind him.
“I think we wants to talk,” said Lannon.
Aldreya didn’t answer. She waited for a few moments, and when the rider made no further move, she said, “Well, let’s go see what he wants, Lannon. It’s better than standing around all day staring each other down.”
Jerret started forward. “I’ll go as well.”
But Aldreya waved him back. “No, just Lannon and I, no weapons drawn.”
“What if you’re attacked?” asked Jerret.
She ignored him, and Lannon accompanied her across the clearing. The bed of moss was soft beneath Lannon’s boots, and a pleasant breeze touched his face. He adjusted the hood of his cloak, allowing it to partially conceal his face. There was power in secrecy. Stealth was the way of a Blue Knight and a Dark Watchman. The shadows of concealment were a welcome embrace, leaving Lannon detached from the bright, noisy, and exposed world—allowing him to deal with his troubles without being totally immersed in them. His way of stealth left his foes confused and fearful of the unknown.
But the rider showed only confidence as they approached. Though his face was lost in darkness beneath his hood (except for his black beard), the way he sat so relaxed in the saddle—with his Goblins apart from him—indicated that he didn’t consider Lannon and Aldreya much of a threat. He was a giant—well over six feet in height with broad shoulders. His cloak was adorned with small black chains as if it were used as armor. His hands were concealed by black gloves. In fact, no part of his flesh was visible, but Lannon could sense flesh and blood beneath the cloth and metal. A strange, ancient smell hung about him, like old books or passageways—as if he had been locked away from fresh air for quite sometime. His black horse was a mighty Goblin steed with yellow eyes, a muscular beast with a spiked tail, armor plating covering parts of its fur, and hoofs that could pierce a stout breastplate.
“So here we are,” said Aldreya, standing before him. She looked small in comparison to the huge horse and rider. His battle axe looked like it could crush her into the earth. “What do you want?”
“For you to leave Ollanhar,” said the rider, his voice low and almost inhuman. “I want you to return to Dremlock where you belong.”
Anger arose within Lannon. “Bellis has sent you to harass and intimidate us, though of course King Verlamer will admit to nothing.”
The rider nodded. “No point in denying it, with just the two of you to hear. One way or another, Bellis will crush this attempt at expansion. King Verlamer will see to it. Dremlock must keep to itself and stay out of the affairs of the land.”
“Or what?” asked Aldreya.
The rider laughed. “Or there will be a forest of bodies on spikes for all to see. A few towns burned to ash—after we’ve had some fun with the townsfolk. A lot of dead Knights left for the Vultures. Understand?”
“We understand.” Lannon’s hand tightened around his sword hilt. “Now that you’ve delivered your message, you can leave.”
“I need an answer first,” said the rider. “Are you going to pack up and leave Ollanhar immediately?”
“Never,” said Aldreya. “Did you think we would?”
“Of course not,” said the rider. “And that’s why Dremlock put an unyielding Birlote in charge rather than the cowardly Bearer of the Eye—to make sure you fools would fight to the death to defend this worthless tower.”
Lannon didn’t respond. The rider was wrong about him, but better for him to think Lannon a coward and underestimate him.
“You don’t recognize me, Lannon Sunshield,” said the rider. “Doesn’t my voice sound familiar to you?”
Instantly Lannon thought of Tenneth Bard—the legendary Black Knight who had terrorized Dremlock and nearly brought about its ruin. But Tenneth Bard seemed more phantom than living flesh, and last Lannon knew, the Black Knight had been trapped in a pit of Tharnin.
“I have no idea who you are,” said Lannon. He instantly regretted the statement, for it revealed his inability to use the Eye on this foe.
“In time, you’ll realize the truth,” said the rider. “You may even realize it when your sword meets my axe—in the very near future.”
“Enough of this useless talk,” said Aldreya. “You are not welcome here.” She pointed to the north. “Go now—back to the reeking marsh that spawned your army. And may the mud swallow you.”
For a moment, the rider sat like a statue. Then his mighty axe rose and fell toward Aldreya. The move was so fast that even the quick Birlote girl had no time to respond.
But Lannon sensed the attack, and he froze the rider in the grasp of the Eye. Nevertheless, Lannon was almost too slow—as the axe stopped in its downward swing only inches from Aldreya’s head. Had Lannon been a bit slower, Aldreya might have been split in two before she realized she had been struck.
Her eyes wide with shock over the speed of the attack, Aldreya leapt away from the rider, stone dagger in hand.
The dark rider broke Lannon’s hold. Up came the mighty axe once again, now backed by rage and sorcery.
Lannon drew his Dragon sword.
Bloodshed had begun.
***
Aldreya raised her stone dagger and green flames twisted around it like living serpents. She flung a blinding fireball into the air. The orb hung suspended for a moment, changing from green to white hot, forcing Lannon to shrink back and shield his face from the heat. Then the fireball shot through the air. Lannon
braced himself for the explosion that would surely follow, wrapping the Eye of Divinity around himself protectively.
But the dark rider simply batted the fireball aside with his axe. The blazing orb flew across the clearing and struck an oak tree, blasting a hole in the trunk and throwing out a shower of sparks and burning wood fragments.
Aldreya gasped and lowered her dagger, appearing to falter for a moment. Her strongest fireball had just been swatted aside like a bug.
Lannon stood blinded for a moment from watching the fireball. When his vision cleared, bearing down on him was a legendary Bloodfang—a creature able to shred flesh from bone in an instant. The Goblin possessed crooked arms twice as long as a man’s legs that tapered into claws. It was brown and slimy, with flesh that seemed to crawl with living things. Its rodent-shaped head quivered with rage, and its curved yellow fangs—as long as daggers—that hung from its wrinkled snout were bared for the kill. Folds of bony skin, like half-developed wings, beat furiously. It seemed to move blindly, with only leathery skin where eyes should have been, but it was alert to Lannon’s position thanks to a bat-like ability to navigate.
The Bloodfang came at Lannon in a blur, and he was caught off guard. The beast’s claws raked his shoulder, tearing through his cloak and drawing blood. He twisted away from the reeking beast, trying to bring up his sword for a strike, but the Bloodfang smashed the weapon from his hand. Lannon ducked a mass of bony claws, then sent the Eye of Divinity into his fist. He punched the beast in the chest, knocking it backwards. The blow might have killed a human, but the Bloodfang was barely dazed, pausing for a moment to catch its breath.
Lannon dove for his sword and seized it—just in time to deflect another clawed attack. Lannon gathered his power just enough to retaliate with a swift thrust—driving his blade deep into the beast’s chest. The Bloodfang clawed at the sword and tried to get to Lannon. The beast was so full of rage and hatred that its own destruction meant nothing to it. All it cared about was tearing Lannon to pieces. It was a disgusting observation for the young Knight—that a creature could exist simply to destroy other creatures—and he was eager to finish it off.
Then a giant hand clamped onto the Bloodfang’s head, and the beast was torn from Lannon’s blade and flung aside as if it were made of straw. Standing before Lannon was a massive, shadowy Ogre wearing spiked armor and a spiked gauntlet on one fist. It wore a battered iron helm with two crude, misshapen eye holes. From the top of the helm protruded a plumb of Vulture feathers—ugliness on top of ugliness.
“Greetings,” said Lannon, his eyes wide.
The Ogre had no desire to chat, driving its spike-covered fist down at Lannon. Lannon dodged the blow, annoyed by the distraction. It was the dark rider that concerned him, but these beasts were leaving him no chance of confronting that menace. Out of the corner of his eye—and as the Ogre charged him and he twisted aside—he saw Aldreya and the rider exchange fireballs that missed.
Inexplicably, the Ogre ripped off its iron helm and flung it at Lannon—perhaps to let Lannon look upon its face and perhaps because the helm weighed enough to deliver a crushing blow. Lannon swatted the helm aside with his blade, the impact jarring his arms. The Ogre’s head was protected by stout, lumpy bone. A black rune of death was painted on its forehead.
A snarling, spotted Jackal leapt in to confront Lannon, getting in the Ogre’s way. The giant didn’t take kindly to that, and it smashed the Jackal in the head with its spiked fist, killing it instantly. An arrow from a Blue Knight glanced off the Ogre’s thick skull. Another arrow found its neck, but it was a shallow wound in the tough, gnarled flesh and the arrow fell away. There was no blood to be seen. The Ogre roared in fury, promising the archers that they would be next once it dealt with Lannon.
Lannon reached into his cloak for his Glaetherin throwing star, then sighed as he realized it wasn’t there. That weapon belonged to King Verlamer now. Instead, he summoned all the strength he could manage and flung his sword like a spear—burying it deep into the Ogre’s forehead, straight through the painted death rune.
The giant gazed numbly at Lannon for a moment, blinking its eyes. It reached up to grab the sword as it took a step forward. Its long shadow fell over Lannon, and it glanced up at the blue sky, the sword hilt jutting forth, perhaps knowing its time in the world had run out. Then it toppled over.
Lannon drew the sword back to his hand even as the giant fell—just in time to defend against a pair of snarling Wolves that bounded over the Ogre’s body. Weariness washed over him.
As Lannon fought the Wolves, Aldreya and the dark rider again hurled fireballs at each other. It was a colorful yet deadly exchange, and even the mighty Goblins stayed back in fear and awe. Aldreya was battling a master sorcerer, but her training under the legendary Taris Warhawk had prepared her well for such an encounter. She moved with just enough speed and agility to avoid the evil fire. Meanwhile, the rider continued to easily deflect her own attacks.
Suddenly, the dark rider wheeled his Goblin Horse around and rode off at a gallop. Aldreya gave chase, but immediately a wall of Goblins closed in front of her and the rider was lost from view.
Then the two armies clashed. Teeth and claws tore at flesh and armor, and burning Knightly blades hacked into smoking Goblin hide. No one on the battlefield doubted it would be a fight to the death, as the Goblins were fearless and driven by relentless hatred.
The dark rider had fled, and no order of retreat would be given.
Frantically, the Goblins tried to activate the towering catapults, as Blue Knights fired arrows at them. Odd, smoking, lumpy iron balls were loaded into the catapults, as Goblins pulled furiously on ropes atop the wooden platforms. But the Blue Knights shot the Goblins off the platform and left the ropes to dangle.
Lannon was like a fleeting shadow in his dark cloak, darting about on the battlefield and leaving dead monsters wherever he roamed. He channeled the Eye into his blade, turning the bone sword into both weapon and shield—striking his enemies like a battering ram one moment to push them away and then delivering a flurry of lethal cuts the next. Nevertheless, the Goblins continued to swarm at him, determined to slay the Bearer of the Eye. Fortunately, Aldreya came to Lannon’s aid, burning to ash some of the Goblins that were charging him.
Prince Vannas, flanked by three Blue Knights, readied the White Flamestone. His gaze was locked onto the catapults, as the Blue Knights who guarded him cut down any Goblins that got close. As Vannas held forth the gem, which was blazing with light, a flurry of stones shot in his direction, disrupting his focus. The fire in the gem died down.
Three Goblin Lords had emerged unseen from the forest, slings in hand. These intelligent, humanoid creatures—Priests of Tharnin—were the most dangerous Goblins of all, possessing powerful combat skills and sorcery. They launched another volley of stones at the prince.
Vannas dodged some of the stones, and the Blue Knights deflected some with their blades—but one lucky shot made it through and struck the prince in the head. Vannas toppled to the ground, dazed, the White Flamestone rolling from his hand. The Goblin army howled with delight at the sight of the fallen prince, and the beasts fought with renewed vigor.
One of the Blue Knights seized the Flamestone, but he lacked the ability to use it and so he simply tucked it away. They shot arrows at the Goblin Lords, who quickly retreated back into the trees.
The Knights tried to revive the prince, but he was lost to the battle.
With Vannas unable to attack the catapults, Jerret fought his way over to one and climbed up onto the platform, cutting down two Goblins who had once again gotten to the ropes. One of them—a vicious Jackal—tried to rise, but Jerret stabbed it through the heart and then kicked the body off the platform. Jerret raised his broadsword and challenged the Goblins to remove him from his perch. Some of them gleefully answered the challenge from the arrogant Red Knight—including a Wolf that leapt high into air in an effort to knock him to the ground—but he cut them all down, his broadsw
ord smoldering with crimson flames.
“For Thrake Wolfaxe!” Jerret bellowed, hacking another Wolf out of the air. In a berserk fury, he hacked at the catapult and tore away chunks of burning wood, finally regaining his senses and cutting at the ropes.
Moments later, Galvia fought her way up to Jerret’s side, her hammer red hot with sorcery. The two stood back to back, as Goblins clawed their way up onto the platform and surrounded them. Jerret’s strength and attitude had drawn their attention, and they were determined to tear him down. The two Knights fought fiercely, bodies piling up around them, but they were vastly outnumbered.
Lannon quickly fought his way to the platform and vaulted up onto it. He pushed into the circle of Goblins that surrounded Galvia and Jerret and cut down several of the beasts. Soon the three Knights had cleared the platform again, and they went to work on severing the ropes, rendering the mighty siege engine useless.
Bekka and the Blue Knights took the other catapult, clearing the platform momentarily before the Goblins closed in again. Bekka lifted a Jackal over her head and flung it into two other Goblins with shattering force—sending all three toppling from the platform. She then whirled around and skewered a huge Wolf that was trying to sneak up behind her on two legs, driving her burning Flayer through its heart. She kicked the dying beast off the platform.
Soon the battle was over. Four Blue Knights lay dead and several more had serious injuries. The ancient trees had been spared significant damage, but the tower grounds were soiled in Goblin corpses that would require a great deal of time and effort to deal with.
There was no sign of the dark rider.
Chapter 2:
The Battle Beneath the False Moon
Disposing of an army of dead Goblins was a terrible way to spend an afternoon. Fortunately for Prince Vannas, he was still dazed from the rock striking his head (or so it appeared), and he was allowed to sleep while everyone else did the work. The dead beasts were hauled by wagons to a suitable location and burned, leaving smelly smoke to drift over the land. Once the cleanup effort was complete, a funeral was held for the dead Knights and then their bodies were sent off to Dremlock Kingdom for burial. It was all very somber and exhausting.
Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) Page 2
