Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1)

by Keller, Robert E.

  Lannon considered the question, then replied, “I have a purpose too—ridding the land of the Deep Shadow forever and creating peace.”

  “Very well,” said Tenneth Bard. “But your purpose conflicts with mine. Therefore, you must die.” He tossed aside his huge battle axe and swung down from his horse. He threw off his cloak. Underneath was magnificent black and silver armor, and a pair of curved swords hung from his belt. The Eye revealed that the armor and the swords were made of invincible Glaetherin.

  He smiled at Lannon and then drew the swords, twirling them briefly in his hands. They flashed like lightning in the light of the yellow orb that still hung in the air above. This display of skill finished, he lowered his weapons, gazing at Lannon smugly. “Make your move, High Watchman.”

  Lannon could now sense the mighty skills that Tenneth Bard possessed. The Black Knight didn’t fear anyone or anything. He regarded Lannon as drastically inferior. He fully expected Lannon to die there in the trail.

  Tenneth Bard yawned. “So it has come to this. You once sent my shattered body hurtling from a cliff. Remember that? Where is that power now? You cannot access it. You’re no longer filled with wild sorcery, but have learned to channel your power through your blade. You have grown more deadly in many ways, but you have lost your unpredictability. I feared you more as you used to be—when the Eye of Divinity was formless within you and ready to adapt to anything. Now you’re just another swordsman, bound to live and die by your techniques.”

  “You’ve changed as well,” said Lannon. “You’re flesh and blood now—which means you can die.” He wasn’t sure if he spoke true, but he wanted to see how the Black Knight would react to his statement.

  Tenneth Bard nodded. “Yes, I can die. I had to surrender my immortality to be free of Tharnin’s chains. I’m as human as you are, Lannon. I chose freedom over slavery, even knowing it could mean the death of me. But don’t think killing me will be easy. My sorcery is stronger than ever, and my skills with the blade go far beyond that of any Knight—as you will soon see for yourself.”

  Lannon was flooded with weariness. “So what is your plan? To rule everything like King Verlamer?” All of these tyrants just seemed to want power over others—the power to make people miserable.

  Tenneth Bard smirked. “I’m not that petty, Lannon. I’ve never wanted to rule the world. I have a different goal. To keep my humanity, I have to do something in return for the Deep Shadow. I have to open the way for Tharnin so that it can lay claim to this land. That means destroying Ollanhar and Dremlock Kingdom and opening all of the portals, including the one below your tower.”

  Lannon nodded. “So you are still a slave of Tharnin with the same old goal. So much for your talk of freedom.”

  “You are wrong,” said Tenneth Bard. “I no longer have to obey the laws of Tharnin. I just have to honor my bargain. Otherwise, I am free to roam and live as I choose—to restore the Blood Legion to prominence once again. I don’t even hate you as much as I used to. At one time, I was nothing but a mass of squirming hatred. I grew ever more enraged with every humiliating defeat. You and your friends wounded me deeply below Dremlock—a very painful wound that would have killed a lesser sorcerer, but I was unable to perish from it and instead suffered for weeks afterward. I watched my Great Dragon fall from the sky and burn in White Fire and my Blood Legion made nearly extinct.”

  “Dremlock stood firm against you,” Lannon said, his voice filled with pride. “All of your evil schemes were ruined.”

  “Not all of them,” said Tenneth Bard, looking amused. “I’m still here, and I still have plans. So as I was saying—I don’t even hate you like I once did. You’re simply in my way and must be dealt with. Given time, the evil would take you anyway, Lannon. I’m about to spare you from that fate.”

  Lannon had no response. There was a chance Tenneth Bard was correct—that Lannon would fall to the charms of the Deep Shadow as his predecessors had. Some believed it was inevitable.

  “You know I speak true,” said Tenneth Bard. “When my blade pierces your heart, you will be free—and your reputation will be forever intact. You will be remembered as a good man who never surrendered to evil. Isn’t that what you want? If you keep on living, you will destroy all you have worked to obtain. For you, Lannon Sunshield, death is the only answer. Trust me on this. I know all about freedom, now that I am truly free. Give yourself to my swords, painless and swift.”

  Lannon was struck hard by Tenneth Bard’s words, but then he remembered that the Divine Essence had chosen him for this role. Lannon’s god—the god that dwelt below Dremlock—wanted him to live. It believed in him, and he could not take the easy way out. Honor and duty demanded that he fight on to his last breath. It was a grave risk to himself and everyone else, but the only noble thing to do was stay alive and hope he somehow could stand against the darkness that sought to consume him. And it was simply not Lannon’s way to admit defeat.

  “Your words are filled with sorcery,” said Lannon, raising his blade, “that tricks the mind and will. But you cannot influence me so easily. If you want to kill me, you’ll have to get past my sword.”

  Tenneth Bard shook his head in disbelief. “I should have known. You’re as stubborn as a Birlote, Lannon. You’ve baffled me since the first day I met you. You’re very frustrating to deal with, and I can’t wait to see you dead.”

  “Here I stand,” said Lannon, focusing the Eye into his blade. “Do what you must.” At least if Tenneth Bard prevailed, Lannon would die with honor. He didn’t want to die, but he could accept that fate.

  Tenneth Bard shrugged. “We will do this the hard way, then.” He leapt forward gracefully, his blades flashing toward Lannon—moving with blinding speed. Tenneth Bard was like a whirlwind of razor-sharp metal slicing the air, and several of his sword strokes came perilously close to Lannon’s flesh.

  Lannon blocked several strokes, but defending against two swords was difficult. Tenneth Bard had an unfair advantage, and the Black Knight seemed just as fast as Lannon. But it wasn’t the swordplay that Lannon feared most—it was Tenneth Bard’s sorcery, which was still mostly unknown to Lannon.

  After clashing for a few moments, they backed away from each other, panting. Lannon had never before faced such a swift and skilled swordsman. Lannon felt he was lucky to still be alive.

  “I propose we make this a fair fight,” said Tenneth Bard. “Just swords, no sorcery. In other words, no fireballs, no grabbing with unseen hands—just whatever we can do with our bodies and blades. Are you game?”

  Lannon hesitated, not sure if he could win in a battle of swords. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he could win in a battle of sorcery, either. But he guessed that Tenneth Bard was just as uncertain. After all, the Eye of Divinity was very mysterious. Even Lannon didn’t understand it half the time.

  “I accept,” Lannon finally said, deciding his chances were slightly better in a sword duel. Immediately after agreeing, he found himself doubting it had been a wise move. After all, Tenneth Bard had requested it for a reason, and the Black Knight was obviously extremely confident he could defeat Lannon at swordplay.

  Their swords collided, and Tenneth Bard drove Lannon back, kicking his feet out from under him. With a cry of victory, the Black Knight tried to stab Lannon into the dirt, but Lannon rolled aside and the twin blades found only the trail. With a colossal effort, Lannon managed to rise from the ground, while blocking several attacks, and regain his balance.

  They backed away from each other again and paused for breath. Again, Lannon realized how lucky he was to still be breathing. He knew he had to make a risky move soon, or he was going to die.

  “Nearly had you, boy,” Tenneth Bard muttered. “Next time you go down, you won’t be getting up.”

  They clashed again, and this time Lannon flooded the Eye into his body in a move he knew might cost him everything. He sought to increase his raw speed at the expense of his skills, to become so swift that Tenneth Bard could only hope to de
fend Lannon’s attacks while being unable to launch any of his own. The move worked surprisingly well, as Lannon’s sudden swiftness caught the Black Knight off guard and put him squarely on the defense.

  With the power of the Eye surging through him, Lannon drove Tenneth Bard backwards until the Black Knight was against a tree. Sensing victory, Lannon hacked furiously at his foe’s exposed neck, leaving Tenneth Bard barely able to keep deflecting the blows. The Black Knight focused entirely on shielding himself with his blades, and he finally dropped to his knees, begging for mercy as Lannon continued to hammer at him.

  Tenneth Bard’s pleas fell on deaf ears for a moment—as Lannon was too focused on finishing him off to notice. Then Lannon paused, his sword poised for a downward stroke. “Do you surrender, then?”

  Tenneth Bard bowed his head. “Yes, I surrender.” He tossed his swords aside. “I am beaten, Dark Watchman.”

  Now what? Lannon thought. How was he supposed to take this mighty sorcerer a prisoner? This was the best chance he’d ever had to kill Tenneth Bard and end a great threat to himself and Dremlock Kingdom, and he was hesitating. He considered just slaying him, but he remembered that wasn’t the way of a Divine Knight. “Turn around,” Lannon commanded, “so I may bind your hands.”

  Tenneth Bard didn’t move. He was smiling.

  Enough of this, Lannon thought. Sacred Laws or not, this evil trickster was not going to snare Lannon. Lannon focused his energy into his blade, preparing to cut off the Black Knight’s head and be done with him.

  Then Lannon heard a hiss from behind him, and a horrible realization flooded his mind. The ball of light that had been hovering above the trail—the false and forgotten moon—was hurtling toward Lannon’s back. Lannon tried to shield himself with the Eye, even as the energy orb struck his back and exploded, driving him against the tree with shattering force. The huge oak shook, and acorns fell.

  Lannon was momentarily stunned, his sword hanging limply from his hand. He staggered away from the tree, his vision dark. Even the Eye seemed useless to him, detached. The Eye had shielded him mostly from the blast, but he was badly shaken. He fought furiously to shrug it off.

  By the time Lannon regained his senses, Tenneth Bard was in front of him and holding one of his curved swords. Grinning, his violet eyes gleaming with delight, the Black Knight drove the sword at Lannon’s heart. Lannon tried to twist out of the way, but the blade pierced his chest.

  With a laugh of triumph, Tenneth Bard shoved Lannon to the ground. Yet Lannon grabbed the blade with the Eye and tore it from his chest and from Tenneth Bard’s hand, flinging it aside. He then seized Tenneth Bard’s heart with the Eye and squeezed it viciously.

  Tenneth Bard backed away, clutching his chest, his skin going pale. The Black Knight fought back with his own sorcery, trying to break Lannon’s hold. Lannon squeezed a bit more and then gave up to focus on himself. He couldn’t crush Tenneth Bard’s heart—which like the rest of his body was fortified by dark sorcery—but Lannon had clearly caught him off guard and weakened him.

  Filled with horrific pain, Lannon nevertheless rose to his feet with sword in hand. With the Eye propping him up, he still had some fight left in him—but any movements could cause his wound to become a fatal one. Nevertheless, he couldn’t simply lay there and wait for Tenneth Bard to finish him off.

  Snarling, Tenneth Bard stumbled over to retrieve his swords, when an enormous shadow detached itself from the forest. A heavy hand smashed down on Tenneth Bard’s skull, staggering the Black Knight.

  Tenneth Bard clutched his head and groaned, then responded with a swift fist to the face of his attacker. The giant figure collapsed to the ground in a heap. Tenneth Bard gathered his swords, but the blow to the head seemed to have left him confused. He wandered about stupidly, and then at last climbed onto his horse and slumped into the saddle. He rode down the trail without looking back.

  As Lannon watched the Black Knight ride off, he knew the fight was over for now. He lay down in the trail, gasping for breath and wracked by agony. He had never felt such pain before, and he thought he might be dying. The Eye of Divinity could not help him with this injury, and so he turned to his Knightly healing techniques to try to save himself.

  Moments later, the huge figure rose from the ground and came toward him. In the gaze of the Eye, Lannon was delighted to see that it was Jace. The towering sorcerer seemed to be able to see in the dark.

  Jace gazed down him with one eyebrow raised. “Pleasant night for walk, wouldn’t you say?” He knelt and checked Lannon’s wound. “Looks like he got your lung. Bad stuff, my young friend. Bad stuff indeed! Allow me to administer a bit of healing. My skills have improved lately, and should take away a bit of that annoying pain.” He laid hands on Lannon’s chest.

  Annoying pain? It hurt so bad Lannon hoped he would pass out.

  “Give me a few moments,” said Jace, “and then I’ll carry you back to Ollanhar. There is a nice stew on the table and some bread, though I’m guessing you won’t feel like eating any this night. Who was that sorcerer, by the way?” When Lannon didn’t answer, Jace went on, “Well, we can talk about that later. I will say that his face looked very familiar to me. Hmm…”

  “Dallsa can help me,” Lannon managed to croak.

  “Yes, of course she can,” said Jace, “being a healer and all. But right now you need a bit of what I have—some special healing sorcery just for you.” He pulled one hand away from Lannon’s chest and felt about his cloak. “Do you think I can carry you and smoke some pipe leaf at the same time?”

  Lannon’s only answer was a groan.

  Chapter 3:

  The Council and the Secret Plans

  Lannon did little but lay in bed for a couple of days in Ollanhar Tower and heal from his wound. He was recovering swiftly thanks to help from Dallsa—but only in the physical sense. Mentally his confidence had taken a blow.

  He kept thinking of the battle in the woods, how Tenneth Bard had nearly killed him, and his chest ached from the memory of the cold blade that had pierced it. He was deeply troubled by the fact that he’d been caught off guard. He was supposed to be the High Watchman of Ollanhar, but he had behaved like a mere Squire, turning his back on an orb of energy that should have been an obvious threat. Once again Lannon felt like a fool undeserving of his status.

  The wound itself was also troublesome—infected with the evil sorcery of the Deep Shadow. It could have been fatal based on that fact alone. But Jace had done something to remove most of the infection (as usual, the sorcerer refused to discuss his abilities, and so whatever he had done remained a mystery), and Dallsa was able to deal with the traces that remained. If not for those two, Lannon might have struggled for weeks or even months to recover. If fact, he probably would have been forced to visit Dremlock’s Hall of Healing. Tenneth Bard’s twin swords were devastating, and Lannon had no desire to encounter them again.

  Lannon was alone in his bedchamber. The windowless room was lit by a single candle burning on a small table. He lay atop his blanket, shirtless, his chest wrapped in bandages. His Dragon sword lay next to him. The shadows hung thick about the room, and Lannon imagined insane, violet eyes gazing out at him from the dark. Tenneth Bard would strike again eventually, and if Lannon didn’t find a way to advance his skills, the Black Knight would take his head. Tenneth Bard in the flesh seemed more fearsome than the phantom of days past—a real Knight bound to this world with vengeance burning in his heart.

  If Jace hadn’t come along, would Lannon have prevailed? It seemed unlikely. It seemed luck had saved Lannon, and luck was not what he wanted to rely on, for eventually it ran out.

  Lannon groaned. So much for the High Watchman.

  The chamber’s oak door swung open and Lothrin Windbow entered. The Blue Knight and Birlote Ranger had been away at Dremlock on business. He closed the door and nodded to Lannon. “You’re still alive, I see.”

  “Barely,” Lannon mumbled.

  In spite of being a member of the Bi
rlote Royal Family, Lothrin wore simple Ranger clothes, which consisted of a green tunic, brown trousers, and soft leather boots. A long dagger with a bone handle hung from his belt, and a hunter’s bow was slung across his back. His silver hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He was a handsome young Tree Dweller with a strange leaf-shaped birthmark on his cheek. He was also an exceptionally swift and deadly warrior, his skills often underestimated by his foes.

  “You’ll be up and about soon enough,” said Lothrin. “You have more strength than you realize.”

  “How are things at Dremlock?” asked Lannon.

  Lothrin hesitated, then replied, “There is a strange mood there—a grim mood. At first I assumed it had something to do with Bellis, but the High Council spoke of the Hand of Tharnin. They fear our enemies are searching for it.”

  “And with good reason,” said Lannon.

  “What do you mean?” asked Lothrin. “Does this have something to do with your battle in the forest?”

  Lannon nodded. “We can talk about it later, though. I assume we’re going to hold a meeting soon to discuss these issues.”

  “As soon as we possibly can,” said Lothrin. “Furlus Goblincrusher and a small company of Knights are here as well. It seems Furlus will be guarding Ollanhar in your absence.”

  “In my absence?” said Lannon. “I expect to be at full health again fairly soon. And what about Aldreya, our Green Knight?”

  Lothrin smiled. “You don’t understand what I’m saying.”

  Lannon’s heart sped up with excitement. “I see. So this means we’re leaving Ollanhar on a mission. Daledus will be happy to hear about that. So where are we going?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Lothrin replied. “Jace will know. The Hand of Tharnin and the Black Flamestone must be dealt with soon. Yet at the same time, the tower must remain in our possession.”