Lannon sat up, eager to start the meeting.
“Relax, my friend,” said Lothrin, motioning for Lannon to lay back down. “We’re not in that much of a hurry.”
“I can attend the meeting,” said Lannon, using his power to help him stand. He was sore and probably should have stayed in bed for a few more days, but he wanted to hear what Jace and the others had to say.
“Very well,” said Lothrin. “Allow me to get everyone assembled in the Dining Room, and then I’ll summon you.”
Lannon sat back down, gnawed by impatience that he knew a Dark Watchman shouldn’t experience. “As soon as everyone is gathered, I want to be informed. In fact, ring the Meeting Bell in the Library. It’s about time we used that thing.”
Lothrin bowed. “It shall be done.”
After the Birlote Ranger left the room, the pain from Lannon’s wound began to throb again and so he stretched out on the bed.
Tenneth Bard was seeking the Hand of Tharnin—perhaps hoping to make himself even more powerful—and somehow Dremlock was already alert to his plans. But Lannon was experienced enough to know that in the war against the Deep Shadow nothing was ever exactly what it seemed.
***
Lannon waited for over an hour. Then he heard the Meeting Bell ring. He rose, put on his tunic, and fastened his sword to his belt. It was time to learn what Dremlock expected of him. He was the High Watchman, but he was still under orders from the Divine Kingdom and would do as commanded.
Lannon’s bedchamber was on the tower’s fifth floor, along with eight other small bedchambers crowded together along a short hallway. It wasn’t the most ideal arrangement, but at least Lannon had his own room. The lesser Knights—those not part of the Council of Ollanhar—slept on the sixth floor in rows of beds placed in spare rooms. The tower was large, but there wasn’t a lot of space for living, which was an indication of all the secret chambers that could be found throughout the keep. The walls, which were strangely bulky in places, told the tale for the keen observer. Ollanhar was designed to house a handful of Dark Watchmen, and not a small army of Dremlock’s Knights, and that was why the nearby town was being built.
Lannon walked slowly downstairs. Ollanhar had undergone a lot of remodeling since Dremlock’s Knights had moved in, with paintings and suits of armor displayed here and there and comfortable rugs on the stone floors. It now resembled one of the great towers of Dremlock on the inside—but this tower lay under a shadow of darkness. Evil sorcery from the age of the Dark Watchmen infested the keep, leading to dreary nightmares and other unpleasant happenings. Lannon was used to the strange events—the groaning and shuffling noises from behind the walls, the laughter and whispers that one could just barely hear, the chills that crept over the flesh. The Deep Shadow was always trying to assert its control, but the Knights of Dremlock knew how to resist it.
Lannon moved down to the fourth floor—to storage rooms filled with crates, sacks, and barrels. Each room in Ollanhar had a high ceiling, which seemed like a foolish design. It meant the tower had a lot of empty space. Lannon guessed there had once been a good reason for this, but he couldn’t imagine what it was, and the Eye of Divinity failed to reveal the answer.
The Dining Room lay on the third floor. Seated at the stone tables were members of the Council of Ollanhar: Furlus, Jace, Fadar Stonebow (who had recently been appointed to the Council), Aldreya, Prince Vannas, Bekka, Lothrin, Jerret, and Galvia. Dallsa, who was serving bread, cheese, and drinks, smiled when she saw Lannon walk down the stairs, her face lighting up.
Furlus Goblincrusher sat at the head of the table—the strongest Grey Dwarf in all the land and a famed Tower Master of Dremlock. He was second in command of the Divine Kingdom and a master of warfare. His dark beard was as wide as the table, his grizzled face sullen in the sunlight that streamed in through the window. He liked to present his best appearance at meetings, and so he wore heavy Glaetherin armor and a huge battle axe was strapped to his back.
“Greetings, Lannon,” said Furlus, giving the High Watchman a nod. “Good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?”
Lannon bowed. “Good to see you as well, Master Furlus. I’m feeling much better, actually. And I have Jace to thank for saving my life.”
“Nonsense,” said Jace. He paused to light his pipe and then added, “You were holding your ground when I happened along.” The sorcerer was a true giant by Norack standards—standing a half-inch shy of seven feet tall with huge shoulders and hands. In spite of being two centuries old, Jace retained a youthful appearance—his broad face smooth and his black, curly hair containing no hint of grey. His eyes held a twinkle of great intelligence—and perhaps a bit of insanity.
“Holding my ground?” mused Lannon, shaking his head. He sat down next to Aldreya. “Hardly. I think I was pretty much done for.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” said Jace, sending a piercing gaze his way. “In the most desperate moments, the Eye of Divinity is at its best.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” said Lannon, not caring to argue the point (though he wasn’t convinced in the least).
“Regardless,” said Furlus, “you’re on the path to recovery, and Dremlock can breathe a big sigh of relief. I strongly suggest you avoid traveling alone. In fact, I’m tempted to order another Divine Shield placed around you.”
Lannon groaned. “Not another Divine Shield. Surely you’re joking.” He had come to love his freedom, and the thought of being under guard night and day—everywhere he went—did not appeal to him in the slightest.
Furlus chuckled. “You’re the High Watchman now, Lannon. You would have to approve of such a measure. And, yes, I’m only speaking in jest. I think you’re quite capable of looking after yourself, however you see fit.”
Aldreya frowned. “I’m not as confident as you are, Furlus. I don’t mean to question Lannon’s skill, but that was a dire situation in the forest. Lannon could easily have met his doom.”
Lannon told himself Aldreya was simply being realistic, but he wished she had a bit more confidence in him.
The others voiced their disagreement with Aldreya, insisting that Lannon would have prevailed. Yet Lannon remained doubtful, plagued by the belief that he would have died in that trail if Jace hadn’t come along. In truth, as much as he wanted Aldreya to show it, he didn’t deserve her confidence.
Aldreya nodded. “Yes, we all know Lannon is quite skilled. He has proven himself to be a great Knight many times over. He earned—beyond a doubt—the title of High Watchman with his victory over King Verlamer. Nevertheless, he was almost defeated.” She fixed a stern gaze on Lannon. “As Green Knight of Ollanhar, I must insist that you be more careful.”
Lannon noted the deep concern and hint of fear in her eyes. It was rare for Aldreya to worry about him (or anyone else, for that matter), which meant she took the threat to his life very seriously. Perhaps the pressure of being Green Knight of this remote tower kingdom was getting to her, making her dread the thought of losing Lannon and being forced to face the struggle alone.
“This as gone on far too long,” said Galvia. “We need to kill this Tenneth Bard fellow once and for all.” The young Grey Dwarf had an angry scowl on her broad face. “Why wait for him to attack us? I think we should hunt him down and put an end to him. We need to become more aggressive.”
“Nothing would please me more,” said Jerret, smiling at her.
Galvia and Jerret clasped hands briefly—two warriors who were the best of friends and always ready to charge into battle together.
“Perhaps,” said Prince Vannas. “But what are the chances that it was actually Tenneth Bard—in the flesh—who attacked Lannon? He could have been any sorcerer with a boastful, lying tongue.”
“He wasn’t just any sorcerer,” said Lannon. “Far from it.”
“He is a very powerful foe,” said Furlus. “We know that for a fact. He claimed to be Tenneth Bard, and was able to convince Lannon of it. Why should we doubt him? It seems he
would have no reason to lie.”
“I will answer the good prince’s question,” said Jace. “Yes, I believe it was Tenneth Bard. He has never been properly dealt with, so why should we believe he isn’t still scheming against us? Obviously, he has grown stronger—taking on a physical form that binds him securely to our world. His goal is to open the way for the Deep Shadow, to start another war on life not seen since the age of the Barloak Demons. We have done well at thwarting his plans, but as long as life flows within him he will continue to serve the will of Tharnin. He must be destroyed.”
“Easier said than done,” Lannon pointed out.
“Certainly,” said Jace. “Tenneth Bard was, in my opinion, the most powerful Knight since Kuran Darkender. He was an amazing talent—like Vorden Flameblade…before the Hand of Tharnin did its work.”
Vorden lowered his gaze, a pained look on his face.
“Vorden is still a great warrior,” said Lannon, in an effort to cheer up his friend. But Vorden didn’t respond, retaining his troubled expression.
“Of course,” said Jace, smiling “but things have changed. So as I was saying, Vorden possessed that level of talent—that brilliant mind and ability to dominate at Knightly pursuits, just like a young Kuran Darkender. Tenneth Bard was once like that, and all of the other Knights lavished him with praise. But then…”
“Then he became a monster like me,” Vorden added quietly.
The others exchanged uncomfortable glances.
Jace blew a wobbly smoke ring, contemplating. “Not like you, Vorden. Tenneth Bard achieved true greatness as a Divine Knight. It was later—after he had become quite a hero—that he gave himself completely to dark sorcery.”
Furlus waved dismissively. “Ancient history. What is he seeking these days and how can we kill him? That’s what I care about.”
“He told us what he is seeking,” said Jace. “The Hand of Tharnin. Now that he has obtained a physical form, he wants the gauntlet for himself. He believes it can make him as powerful as a god.”
“Such power can never be controlled,” said Prince Vannas, his face darkening. “Tenneth Bard is a fool. Mortals were not meant to be gods.” He hesitated, all eyes upon him, and added, “When the power of the White Flamestone grows too strong, I can barely control it. At that point, the power takes on a life of its own and begins to assert its will. I have come close to losing myself forever. That is the future that awaits Tenneth Bard if he continues on such a path.”
“Tenneth Bard was consumed long ago,” said Jace. “The Deep Shadow claimed his very soul. He allowed it to happen, and he enjoys it. And with all due respect, Prince Vannas, you are not truly a sorcerer. A powerful magic user can push himself beyond what seem to be mortal limits. The Hand of Tharnin is a defective item in that it causes madness and loss of control, but someone as powerful as Tenneth Bard might be able to master it—making him nearly invincible. This threat must be taken very seriously.”
“And the Black Flamestone?” asked Furlus.
Jace hesitated, a strange gleam in his eye. “Much more dangerous and useless to Tenneth Bard. The Black Flamestone caused massive damage to the Blood Legion, and it is possible Tenneth Bard wants no further part of that item. I firmly believe it is only the gauntlet that interests him.”
“Then we must recover the gauntlet soon,” said Furlus. “Tenneth Bard might be searching for it even as we speak.”
“Where are the items now?” asked Aldreya.
“Where we hid them,” said Furlus, “before the battle with the Blood Legion. They are well hidden, but definitely not secure. We must take them to Dremlock, where they will be placed in a very secure vault of Glaetherin. Only Taris Warhawk knows how to open that vault. Also, there is an island called Scalmfort that Dremlock has been meaning to explore for sometime. We believe another one of the Flamestones might be located there—a green one that represents the Flesh of the White Guardian. We want to find it before our enemies do.”
“Another Flamestone!” Jace exclaimed, wonder shining in his eyes. “Could it truly be? How certain is the High Council?”
“We are fairly confident it exists there,” said Furlus. “The Divine Essence itself revealed this to our Lord Knight. Apparently it took centuries for our god to locate it, but the truth has been revealed at last.”
Jace seemed deep in thought for a moment, as the others looked on. The idea of finding another Flamestone was exciting for all, but Jace seemed especially inspired by it. At last the sorcerer asked, “How far out to sea?”
“A week of travel,” said Furlus, with a shrug.
“Excellent,” said Jace, grinning. “Excellent in all ways, my friends! We could simply dump the Hand of Tharnin overboard. It would sink to a depth that even the most powerful creatures of the Deep Shadow could never go.”
Furlus shook his head. “Taris has ordered the gauntlet be brought back to Dremlock. He wants to study it. You need not concern yourselves with it. We will send Knights to retrieve it.”
Jace’s expression turned a bit sour. “That didn’t go so well with the bones of that Great Dragon, now did it? In fact, it cost Thrake Wolfaxe his life. Studying items of the Deep Shadow is a perilous task.”
“This is different,” said Furlus. “Taris has the support of the Birlote Wizards, who are sending someone to Dremlock to help with the research. They believe the gauntlet holds knowledge that could be very helpful in winning the war against Tharnin. We must return the gauntlet to Dremlock at all costs.”
“Then it shall be done, of course,” said Jace, though he looked a bit skeptical. “Hopefully, all three items will be brought to Dremlock—if indeed there is another Flamestone to be found.”
“This will be a long journey,” said Furlus, “into strange lands where Divine Knights are not necessarily recognized or appreciated. Tenneth Bard and the Blood Legion may follow, and Bellis is everywhere these days.”
“So who is going?” asked Lannon.
“It hasn’t been clearly decided yet,” said Furlus, raising his drooping eyebrows. “You’re the High Watchman. Who do you think should go?”
“Jace, obviously,” said Lannon. “Daledus Oakfist as well, if possible.” He hesitated, not wanting to play favorites. “Aldreya, of course, if Ollanhar can spare her. Sorcery will definitely be needed.”
“The tower will be left in good hands,” said Aldreya, “with Furlus here to guard it. I will make the journey.”
“I’m going too,” Jerret insisted. “I’ve had enough of this dreary keep. I want some fresh air and open sky.”
Lannon nodded. “I definitely need stout warriors, so Jerret, Vorden, and Galvia should come along. Also, we might need a highly skilled archer and a Ranger.” He nodded to Fadar Stonebow and Lothrin.
Lothrin smiled. “Thank you, my friend.”
Fadar bowed. “My bow is in your service, High Watchman.”
“Actually,” said Aldreya, “I would like you to remain at Ollanhar, Fadar. Archers may be needed to defend the tower. You could lead them.” She glanced at Furlus for approval, and he nodded.
Again, Fadar bowed. “I shall defend Ollanhar with my life.”
“What about me?” asked Prince Vannas, looking hopeful. “What about the power of the White Flamestone?”
Lannon hesitated, knowing the prince was going to be irritated by his response. “I think your skills would be most useful in guarding Ollanhar. After all, with the White Flamestone here the tower is firmly in our grasp.”
“I agree,” said Aldreya. “The White Flamestone should remain here, where it is close to Dremlock. And I’m sure the High Council would never allow it to be taken beyond the borders of Silverland.”
Prince Vannas glowered at Lannon. “So you’re going on a perilous quest into strange lands, with Tenneth Bard and his minions possibly chasing after you. Surely the protection of the White Flamestone is required.”
“True enough,” said Lannon. “But taking the White Flamestone into such strange lands—so fa
r from Dremlock—is too risky. If another war were to begin, you wouldn’t be here to defend our god and kingdom.”
Prince Vannas sighed. “I know you’re right, Lannon. But the adventure sounds exciting, and I hate to miss it. I’m weary of this tower.”
“There will be other adventures, my friend,” said Lannon. He knew exactly how Vannas felt, and he pitied him.
“I will remain here,” said the prince, his expression sullen, “as duty demands.”
“Thank you,” said Lannon, though it hadn’t been Vannas’ decision to make. “I will sleep well at night knowing Ollanhar is safe.”
Jace’s eyes widened. The sorcerer waved his pipe in the air dramatically as he blurted out: “Are you speaking in jest, Lannon? Leave the White Flamestone behind? This is not wise, in my extremely humble opinion! It might take a Flamestone to find a Flamestone. It might take the White Fire to keep us alive when the darkness comes to devour us. Furlus, what are your thoughts on this?”
“I, too, disagree with Lannon’s decision,” said Furlus. “Obtaining the Flamestone from Scalmfort Island could be very difficult. In fact, the entire journey could be quite perilous. The White Flamestone will be needed. The High Council has already voted on this issue. Prince Vannas must join the quest.”
Aldreya looked amazed, her green eyes wide. “Was the Council in unanimous agreement on this, Furlus?”
The gruff Dwarf nodded. “Yes, even Taris.”
“But what about Bellis?” asked Lannon, surprised at Furlus’ opinion and at the High Council’s vote. “Isn’t Bellis the greatest threat of all?”
“The peace treaty will prevent an outright war,” said Furlus. “If King Verlamer dared break it, he would shame himself and risk the wrath of the Birlotes and Olrogs. Such a thing could doom him. He knows that.”
“But he is breaking it,” said Lannon. “Obviously, Verlamer was behind the recent Goblin attack. He is still making war on us.”
“Yes,” said Furlus, “but only on a small scale. He must make use of the Blood Legion and the Goblins to avoid being held responsible—and those are threats that Dremlock can deal with. The Nine Axes will help defend this tower while you’re gone, and rest assured, Ollanhar will not fall.”
Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) Page 5
