“Just fine,” said Faindan. “Last I knew. But I’ve returned here to discuss my personal situation.”
Furlus motioned for him to sit. “I don’t have all day, so tell me your story quickly. Why did you ignore Aldreya’s command?”
“I don’t know,” said Faindan. “For some reason I was compelled to come here.” He shrugged. “I wish I knew why.”
Furlus scowled. “That’s a sorry reason to disobey the Green Knight of Ollanhar. Are you sure you weren’t struck in the head as well?”
“My thoughts are clear,” said Faindan. “Somewhat.” He sighed. “I cut off my own hand. It was infected with the Deep Shadow.”
“Poking around in old ruins, were you?” asked Furlus.
“Exactly that,” said Faindan.
Furlus nodded. “That’s usually a terrible mistake, but not always. Sometimes there is treasure to be found. So did the infection threaten your life? Was it temporary, or permanent?”
“Dallsa had it under control,” Faindan admitted. “I would have healed. I severed it simply to be rid of my terrible pain.” His face burned hot with shame as he spoke. He felt like a wretched excuse for a Knight.
“I see,” said Furlus, frowning. “So you caved in like a weakling. I’ll bet you made a fool of yourself as well. Did you cry like a baby?”
“All of that and more,” said Faindan.
“So you broke the Sacred Laws,” said Furlus, “and now you only have one hand to show for it. And you’re hoping I will take pity on you—something the rigid Taris Warhawk wouldn’t do. You want to keep your Knighthood and fight on with one hand. Yet you seem to possess a weak will, so why should you retain your Knighthood? You come in here intent upon saving it, but you show no passion. Your voice is flat—as if you have given up hope or no longer care. If you truly wanted to remain a Knight, I would expect a more desperate plea—maybe even a tear or two shed. You make it very easy for me, lawbreaker, to simply demote you to Orange and be done with it.”
Faindan sighed. “I’m not very emotional. I find it hard to express my feelings. But yes, I do care greatly about serving Dremlock.”
Furlus yawned. “The Sacred Laws strictly forbid what you have done, and then you disobeyed a direct order from your Green Knight. I truly hate to see a Knight fail, and warriors in similar situations to yours have come before me and retained their Knighthood. But they were convincing, and you are not. I don’t care that you lost a hand. Many great Knights—Dwarves in particular—have had missing arms and even missing legs! Have you ever heard of Hathod Ironfist? He was a Grey Dwarf with a metal leg. He led Knights to victory in many battles. But you are not him. You seem to lack heart, and that is intolerable. I’ll give you one last chance to prove me wrong before I strip you of your rank. One last chance.”
“I have plenty of heart,” Faindan mumbled. But he felt weary to the core, and his mind seemed to go blank. He questioned whether or not he truly did want to remain a Knight. Furlus was right. Where was the passion? At last he said, “I was chosen for the mission to obtain the Green Flamestone.”
Furlus stroked his beard thoughtfully. “True. I’m sure you were respected and talented, and I greatly appreciate all you’ve done for Dremlock. But the Sacred Laws are never to be broken.” He waited.
Faindan scratched his head. “I’m friends with Lannon Sunshield. I think he would be disappointed if I was stripped of rank.” His words sounded desperate and silly to his ears, and he regretted speaking them.
Furlus didn’t respond to that. He continued to wait.
“I’m good with the blade,” said Faindan. “Very good, actually. I slew a Wolf. A really huge one. You wouldn’t believe how big it was.” He held up the stump of his wrist. “Yet I killed it with one hand.”
“That’s worth something,” said Furlus, nodding with approval. “That’s the sort of thing I like to hear. What else?”
Faindan struggled to think of something. “The Wolf was the biggest I’ve ever seen. I still can’t believe I defeated it.”
Furlus frowned.
“But that’s not all,” Faindan said quickly. “I slew a Goblin with tentacles that was terrorizing an artist. It was very powerful.”
Furlus looked skeptical. “Tentacles, you say?”
“It grabbed me and squeezed me,” said Faindan. “I nearly died.” He instantly regretted admitting that last truth.
Furlus sighed. “What else?”
“I just…have a lot of heart,” Faindan said weakly. “I love being a Knight. I absolutely love it. It’s all I think about.” He wiped a dry eye in pretense that a tear had formed there. “See, I don’t even have the words to say how much I truly love it. I want to serve our god and kingdom, and I will never break the Sacred Laws again.” Faindan leaned back in his chair, certain he had just failed miserably.
Furlus bowed his head, looking almost embarrassed. “Well, I think you do have some heart and talent, but I’m not feeling it. A Divine Knight needs to be extremely dedicated and focused. I think you should be demoted to Orange for now, but if you do your duties without complaining for six months, I will permit you to go to Taris and plead your case.”
Faindan groaned. “Then it’s truly over.” He rose from his chair, trembling. “I’m finished as a Divine Knight. I guess I’ll just go…somewhere. Can I keep my horse?”
Furlus shook his head. “The Greywinds remain at Dremlock or Ollanhar. I’m sorry, Faindan. I offered you a chance to speak to Taris, but if you must leave, then I wish you well. It is always a sad day when we lose a Knight.”
“Six months as an Orange Squire?” said Faindan. “That’s the chance you offered me? That would be terribly humiliating.”
“It would also be humbling,” said Furlus. “And I think you need that. If you endured the shame and served us well, Taris would be more inclined to listen. Taris is not as unreasonable as some tend to think.”
“Six months,” said Faindan, “with no promise that my Knighthood would be restored? Not even a slight promise?”
“No promises,” said Furlus.
“I’m going to pass on that,” said Faindan. “Goodbye.”
Furlus shrugged. “Your choice. Obviously, you don’t care about Knighthood as much as you claim. Good luck on your journeys. You should visit Dremlock for payment and other instructions on how to properly retire. You can take your horse that far, at least. You can purchase a lesser horse there.”
A lesser horse, Faindan thought. He would have to part with his best friend, and the thought of it filled his heart with pain.
“I do care,” Faindan insisted. “But I’m certain Taris would refuse me, and my humiliation would be for nothing.”
Furlus focused on his map again, content to let the discussion end.
Faindan searched his mind in a final attempt to think of anything that might sway the Tower Master. “I saw Kuran Darkender,” he said, remembering the vision. “Well, it wasn’t actually him, of course. It was like a waking dream.”
Furlus looked up, a sudden glint in his eyes. “Explain.”
“When I was fighting that Goblin,” said Faindan. “The one with the tentacles. I was being crushed to death, and suddenly Kuran Darkender was there and I felt strong. That’s how I broke free and killed the beast.”
“Are you being truthful?” asked Furlus, his voice taking on a dangerous tone. “Look into my eyes and repeat what you said.”
Faindan did so, wondering what this was all about. “I’m being completely truthful. However, I don’t actually think Kuran Darkender’s spirit came to me. I think it was all in my mind, but it did seem to lend me strength.”
“Describe the incident in more detail,” said Furlus.
Faindan did as commanded, telling all he could remember.
Furlus sat in silence for a few moments, a somber expression on his grizzled face, and Faindan thought he might have angered the Dwarf. Perhaps Furlus thought he was lying or somehow insulting Kuran Darkender.
But at last
Furlus’ expression changed. He displayed a rare smile. “Well, Faindan, it seems you did put forth a great effort against that Goblin, which was probably quite a powerful foe. Perhaps I made my decision too quickly. On second thought, I think you should remain a Divine Knight. Would you care for some ale?”
Faindan was completely baffled.
“Let’s have some ale,” said Furlus, filling a couple mugs.
“What about the Sacred Laws?” asked Faindan. “And the fact that I disobeyed Aldreya? Am I to be punished?”
“No need for that,” said Furlus, pushing a mug of ale toward him. “I am overruling Aldreya’s decision, and as far as the Sacred Laws go…well, we all make mistakes from time to time. Just don’t let it happen again.”
“I won’t,” said Faindan, in amazement. He considered asking Furlus what had brought on such a sudden change, but he decided he better not press the issue. Instead, he simply enjoyed his ale, which was the best he had ever tasted.
***
After their meeting, Faindan was sent to town by Furlus to speak to the leader of the Nine Axes, Valedos Firehelm. Valedos was a legendary Dark Knight who wore an extremely rare, full set of Glaetherin armor—including a horned helm—that he had found in the maze of tunnels below Dremlock. The armor, which had belonged to a Dwarven prince, had been a perfect fit, and the High Council had awarded it to Valedos for his many heroic deeds.
Valedos wasn’t wearing his armor on this day—though he did have his battle axe with him, as always. He stood in the tavern at the bar, his shoulders as broad as those of Furlus and his body laden with muscle beneath his black tunic. A forge accident had left his face scarred and part of his beard unable to grow back—with the latter being a mark of shame that added to his sullen demeanor. He watched Faindan with suspicion as he approached. The tavern was filled with Knights engaged in merrymaking in their free time, though the rest of the Nine Axes were not present. Valedos stood alone, a big wooden mug in hand.
Faindan bowed. “Greetings. I was sent here by Furlus.” He showed Valedos his missing hand. “He seemed to think you could help with this.”
Valedos slammed his ale mug down on the bar. “Can’t help you,” he growled. “I have no idea how to make a hand grow back.”
Faindan wasn’t sure what to make of that response. “Okay, but I didn’t expect you to have that sort of skill. I’m just doing what Furlus told me to do—come here and see you. So here I am.”
“What happened?” asked Valedos.
Faindan told his story. When he was finished, Valedos gazed at him with contempt.
“That’s a pathetic tale,” said the Dark Knight. “I’m surprised Furlus didn’t just toss you right out of the Order.”
Anger burned within Faindan. “Well, he didn’t. He wants me to remain a Knight. So can you help me, or not?”
“Possibly,” said Valedos. “But why should I? You brought disgrace to Dremlock and Ollanhar. If I help you, I want some assurance that you’re going to grow a backbone and become a real warrior.”
Faindan’s anger increased. “I can’t give any such guarantee, because the whole concept of it is rather insulting. Until you’ve been in the situation I have, you shouldn’t judge me.”
“You came to me for help,” said Valedos, “and I’m deciding whether or not you’re worth the effort—so I’m going to judge you. You’re one of those snobbish Blue Knights, I see, who think you should get treated like royalty. Well, I’m going to speak my mind. If you don’t like it, the door is that way.” He pointed.
Faindan stood his ground.
Valedos nodded. “Then as I was saying, I won’t help you until you prove to me you can overcome that weak will of yours.”
“How can I possibly do that?” asked Faindan. “There is no way to prove such a thing.”
“Sure there is,” said Valedos. “You must pass through the Gauntlet of Axes and become an honorary member of the Nine Axes. Only a handful of Knights have made it through the Gauntlet. A good many have failed.”
“And what would it accomplish?” asked Faindan. “What would it mean to be an honorary member?”
Valedos laughed. “Essentially nothing—beyond earning great respect. But if you succeed, I will find a way to turn that missing hand of yours into your greatest strength. Bear in mind that the Gauntlet of Axes is difficult. Usually only very stout Olrogs can emerge victorious. If you were to prevail, it would erase the cowardly actions of your past—actions that other Knights will look upon with contempt. But if you complete the trial, no one would question your heart and skill ever again. So what is your answer?”
The challenge sounded worthy. Faindan didn’t want to be a Knight that others regarded as a coward, and it would take many heroic deeds to change their minds about him. Yet the Gauntlet of Axes seemed to offer a quick fix for his reputation—if he could prevail. And if he failed, no one would think less of him. It seemed to be a gamble with little risk.
“I’ll do it,” said Faindan.
“Good,” said Valedos. “Just a word of warning—the Gauntlet of Axes can be very painful and dangerous. It can leave you scarred. Still want in?”
Faindan felt he had to prove himself regardless of the risks. “I’m ready. We can do this right now if you want.”
Valedos grinned in approval. “That’s the spirit. We’ll have a drink or three first, though. My warriors are busy right now helping some townsfolk repair a bridge. We’ll meet up with them later and go out back.” His grey eyes narrowed. “And then you’ll truly know the meaning of pain.”
“I already know the meaning of pain,” said Faindan. “I cut off my own hand after being driven mad by pain, remember? Trust me—I’m prepared for whatever punishment you plan to give me.”
Valedos didn’t reply.
***
The Gauntlet of Axes took place in the grass behind the tavern. The Nine Axes were present, along with all the Knights from the tavern. It seemed Faindan had already earned a bit of respect just for agreeing to the test, as the onlookers cheered for him. He sensed they didn’t envy him, however, as they seemed to know something he didn’t.
Valedos stood off to one side, in full armor, and the remaining eight members of the Nine Axes gathered in two rows—four on each side and spaced unevenly across from each other. They raised their battle axes, which were bathed in a fiery glow from the late afternoon sun that made them look bloody. Their bearded faces were grim, showing no hint of mercy.
“You’re lucky,” Valedos said to Faindan. “There used to be Ten Axes, with five on each side of the gauntlet. You only have to endure eight.”
“How do I begin?” asked Faindan, gazing at the menacing battle axes and wondering what the Dwarves planned to do with them. Surely they weren’t going to swing at him—but when it came to Olrogs one never knew.
“As with all gauntlets,” said Valedos, “the goal is to pass through it. Make it through and you win. Fall down and give up—you lose. And don’t worry, you will not be cut. This is a trial of endurance only.”
Faindan took position at one end of the gauntlet. The crowd went silent, their faces tense as they watched.
The battle axes burned with yellow fire.
Shoring up his will, Faindan started forward. The first Dark Knight he encountered brought the burning axe close to him, and the pain that exploded within Faindan was something he could not have prepared for it. It hurt so bad he screamed and dropped to his knees. It felt like his flesh was boiling.
Was this the end of the trial? Was he so weak he couldn’t even get past the first axe? He asked himself these questions, and the answer was that he somehow had to get up and keep going. The memory of severing his own hand flooded him with anger and determination and drove him to rise again.
Faindan stumbled forward, and all he knew was a haze of pain, as axe after axe came down to touch him with yellow flames. He wasn’t even sure he was still walking or if he was dead and his soul was simply floating along. All he knew was he had to
make it through the gauntlet or he could never find peace.
At last he simply gave out. There was nothing left, and his mind went dark. He didn’t know if he had succeeded or failed, but he had given everything he had and was proud of himself regardless.
Faindan became aware that someone was slapping his face just hard enough to wake him. He looked up to find Valedos standing over him. The leader of the Nine Axes gazed down on Faindan with awe in his grey eyes, as the crowd cheered.
“You did it!” Valedos said. “You made it through!”
“I made it?” Faindan mumbled. “How?”
Valedos seemed to contemplate that for a moment. Then he replied, “I have no idea. I never expected you to succeed.”
Then Faindan passed out again.
Chapter 16:
The Lair of Hatred, Flame, and Iron
The Knights waited almost an hour for the lightning to cease, but it only slacked off a bit. Finally they emerged from their cave and started upward along the mountain path again. The wind and rain had not let up at all, however—continuing to hammer into them with a force that threatened to push them to their doom.
They moved slowly along a narrow ledge, pressing close to the sheer rock wall as the wind shoved at them. The rain was coming down so hard there were small yet dangerous waterfalls all over the cliffs. It was as if the entire mountain was working against them and seeking their doom.
After a flash of lightning, Lothrin cried out a warning, pointing upward. “I saw something crawling down the mountainside!”
Jace lifted a Birlote torch high into the air with his long arm, and the reddish light from the glowing gem revealed a Ghoul with gleaming eyes—crawling straight down the sheer cliff toward them.
As soon as it was exposed to the glow, the Ghoul leapt straight for Lannon, its jaws opening wide as if coming unhinged to expose its fangs. Lannon caught the monster with his sorcery, with the Ghoul hanging just above him, and forced it over the ledge. As it fell past him, Lannon lashed out with his sword and beheaded it. The dead monster dropped silently from view.
Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) Page 26
