Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1)

by Keller, Robert E.

  “She burned them with sorcery,” said Aldreya, pointing at Ethella.

  Ethella laughed. “Don’t be absurd. I’m not that powerful, that I can make fire burn in the middle of a fierce downpour. Could you do that?”

  Aldreya didn’t answer.

  “You did it somehow,” said Lannon. “The Eye saw it.”

  Unable to contain himself any longer, Jerret growled, “This is a waste of time. You know what you did, and you will die for it. Here and now.”

  “Silence, barbarian,” said the Lawkeeper. “Let the intelligent amongst you speak. Go drink some ale or find some poor man or beast to bully. Go punch someone in a tavern. It’s all you’re good for.”

  Jerret gazed at him coldly, but didn’t reply.

  Aldreya pulled Lannon aside to whisper to him. “We must send a Hawk first, Lannon. If we arrest him, it will mean war.”

  Reluctantly, Lannon nodded. The arrogance of the Lawkeeper and Ethella was maddening, and his heart was flooded with the desire for justice—but not at the risk of war against a kingdom that nearly ruled the entire continent.

  “Is your business here finished?” asked the Lawkeeper. “I am a busy man with important things to do—and I haven’t had my breakfast yet. Hot tea and cake await me in my tent. Either arrest us, or leave my campsite.”

  “You are free to go,” Aldreya said. “For now. But eventually you will pay for your crimes. Such evil cannot go unpunished.”

  Jerret turned his sullen gaze toward Aldreya. “If we don’t arrest him, I will be forced to finish this myself.”

  “If you do anything foolish, Jerret,” Aldreya warned, “you will be permanently stripped of your Knighthood. You will lose everything.”

  “Get on your horse, Jerret,” said Lannon.

  “Be gone with you, savage,” said the Lawkeeper, motioning Jerret away. “I have no time to deal with such a dull-minded oaf.”

  “Galvia was worth more than all of you,” said Jerret, making a sweeping gesture toward Bellis’ fighters. He swallowed, overcome by emotion for an instant.

  “Apparently not,” said the Lawkeeper, “if she is amongst the dead. Apparently she’s not worth the dirt beneath my boots these days. She is nothing now.” He grinned.

  Jerret sat like a statue, knuckles white as he gripped his sword. “She was a friend unlike any other. We shared a bond between warriors that you can never know. And you took that away in the most cowardly fashion.”

  Ethella laughed. “I think the dumb oaf is angry. He lost his girlfriend and he wants to blame someone for it.”

  Jerret didn’t look at her. His gaze was focused on the Lawkeeper—and there was death in that gaze.

  The grin vanished from the Lawkeeper’s face, as he looked into Jerret’s icy eyes. He turned to Aldreya. “Better rein in your savage before—”

  Jerret’s broadsword cleared its sheath, catching the light of dawn for a moment before erupting into crimson flames. And then it tore through the air with a speed that no one—not even Lannon—had a chance to interfere with.

  The Glaetherin broadsword passed through the Lawkeeper’s neck. His body collapsed, as his head rolled down the rocky slope.

  A gasp arose from the onlookers.

  Ethella lunged at Jerret with her glowing staff—but Lannon was there in an instant, his sword blocking her attack.

  Ethella backed away from Lannon, a look of fear in her eyes.

  “Order a retreat!” Lannon commanded. “Or you will all be arrested!”

  Prince Vannas rode forward, the White Flamestone blazing.

  Bellis’ warriors had started forward, but Ethella waved them back. “I am in command now,” she told them. “We will not fight.”

  Reluctantly, the warriors lowered their weapons.

  Ethella sneered at the Lawkeeper’s body. “I hated that old fool anyway. I’m glad he’s dead.” Laughing, she motioned the Divine Knights to leave. “Ride away, little Knights. Your time will come soon enough.”

  As the Knights departed, Aldreya’s face showed deep disappointment.

  ***

  When they reached camp, and dismounted from the horses, Aldreya took a deep breath, turned to Jerret, and said, “For violating the Sacred Laws of Dremlock, I call for a vote to expel you from the Divine Order of Red Knights and from the Council of Ollanhar.”

  The other Knights looked dismayed.

  “Is there a way I can avoid this?” Jerret asked quietly. “Make amends?”

  “No,” said Aldreya. “What you have done—risking war with Bellis to satisfy your lust for vengeance—is not the way of a Divine Knight. You will never be a Knight of the Order again, for as long as you live.”

  “Then I await the vote,” said Jerret.

  “He should be given another chance,” Vorden said to Aldreya. “Jerret has served Dremlock honorably, and the Lawkeeper deserved to be executed for his crimes. Yes, Jerret should not have done it. But why deprive him of his Knighthood over the death of a wretched fiend like that? It makes no sense.”

  “Dremlock does not execute people,” Aldreya replied. “The Sacred Laws forbid it. Even our worst enemies—should they surrender—will face only imprisonment for their crimes. This is the will of the Divine Essence. Jerret slew the Lawkeeper without warning—and after no trial took place. His crime is so severe that we cannot in good conscience allow him to remain a Knight.”

  “How is that different than an assassination?” asked Vorden. “And we know Dremlock sends forth assassins.”

  “Assassinations are allowed,” said Aldreya, “when very specific criteria is met and the High Council has voted. That is not the case here. Jerret took matters into his own hands. This was nothing but an execution.”

  Lannon looked on in helpless frustration, knowing he was powerless to prevent this. Jerret had simply gone too far, and his career as a Divine Knight was finished. No other outcome was possible.

  Dallsa was summoned from the wagon, and the voting began.

  The Council gathered in a circle. “All in favor of banishing Jerret from Knighthood,” said Aldreya, “speak now.”

  Without hesitation, Lannon said, “I vote for banishment. The Sacred Laws demand it, and in this case it is truly justified. I’m terribly sorry, my friend. But you left me with no choice.”

  Jerret shook his head, looking disgusted. “I guess I’m not your friend after all, Lannon. I thought for sure I would at least have your vote.”

  “You’re being unfair to me,” said Lannon. “I must vote with my conscience. One cannot be a Divine Knight halfheartedly. I am in it all the way, Jerret.” But Jerret’s words stung deeply, and Lannon wondered if he was making the right choice, Sacred Laws or not.

  “I vote for banishment,” said Dallsa. “And shame on you, Jerret, for stomping on your friendship with Lannon over this. It was your choice to…to cut off that man’s head, and while he deserved it, that is not our way of things. You have to live with this always, and I hope you eventually find peace.”

  “I vote to award Jerret a Medal of Divinity,” said Daledus, his face sullen and defiant. “Taking the Lawkeeper’s head was justified.” He fixed his grey eyes on Jerret. “You may lose your Knighthood, but you have earned the respect of this Dwarf. Vengeance was ours today. I will say no more.”

  Aldreya sighed. “Who’s next?”

  “I don’t like what happened,” said Vorden. “Not at all. I’m glad the Lawkeeper is dead, but that just wasn’t right. However, I also believe people make mistakes out of wild emotion—sometimes truly wretched ones—and that forgiveness is possible. Jerret is an amazingly talented fighter and he has a noble heart. Therefore, my conscience dictates that I vote for him to remain.”

  “I vote for Jerret to remain,” said Jace, with a shrug. “He let his anger get the best of him, and put us at great risk for war, but he is an exceptional fighter and will be needed in the days ahead. Banishing him is pointless.”

  “Banishment,” said Prince Vannas. “The Sacred Laws can
not be compromised. This was an arrogant and blatant violation of all that Dremlock and Ollanhar stand for. It simply must not go unpunished.”

  “I vote to give him another chance,” said Lothrin. “But it doesn’t matter, because the majority has already spoken.”

  Aldreya stepped close to Jerret, face to face. “Jerret Dragonsbane, by official vote of the Council of Ollanhar you are hereby banished forever from the Divine Order. You are no longer a Knight. However, you will still receive payment for past services rendered, which you can collect at Ollanhar Tower. I will also allow you to keep your horse until you can purchase a different one. Then the Greywind must be returned to Ollanhar where it belongs.”

  “Then I guess it’s truly over,” said Jerret, with a huge sigh. His sword slipped from his fingers and clattered to the rocky ground.

  Lannon couldn’t imagine the despair Jerret was feeling—but it was his own fault. He had made his decision and would have to live with it.

  “I guess I’ll be leaving then,” said Jerret.

  No one answered, their hearts heavy with sadness.

  Jace, however, seemed in a cheerful mood. He picked up Jerret’s fallen broadsword with its wolf-head hilt and examined it. “Excellent blade,” he said. “The Lawkeeper never stood a chance.”

  “I had my revenge,” said Jerret, “but my future is lost. Would I do it again? Yes, but right now I feel…wretched beyond belief.”

  Jace shrugged. “Don’t feel bad. Futures come and go. I’ve lost my future many times—and found a different one to replace it.” He smiled. “I have a suspicion that Lannon needs to hire a henchman. Isn’t that right, Lannon?”

  “I don’t know,” said Lannon, caught off guard by the suggestion. “Am I allowed to? Jerret just beheaded the Lawkeeper without warning. Once word gets to Dremlock, he could even face a criminal trial for his actions.”

  “Well, it was rather impulsive of him,” said Jace. “But it’s not like that vile puppet of Bellis didn’t deserve to lose his head. Let’s not be too judgmental here over a bit of vengeance from a Red Knight. You know how they are. As the High Watchman, you have the right to hire some muscle—and Jerret has a lot of that. I say go ahead and put him on the payroll. Do you really think the High Council of Dremlock will interfere with your decisions? If so, you haven’t been paying attention.”

  “I forbid this,” said Aldreya, her face stony. “You are attempting to persuade Lannon to get around our decision. That is unacceptable.”

  Jace bowed. “Of course I am. Uncle Jace is full of such schemes—all for the greater good, of course. I must point out that the High Watchman has final say over who he hires. This isn’t about Dremlock, but Ollanhar. It is not your decision, Aldreya. And bear in mind that I too was banished from Knighthood—yet here I am, riding with Divine Knights and serving so well.”

  Aldreya turned to Lannon. “Then what is your answer?”

  Lannon sighed. “I like to keep things peaceful, of course. But…Jerret is a great fighter and certainly needed. For now, Jerret can ride with us and be paid for the trouble. It’s too dangerous to be alone in these mountains anyway.”

  Aldreya seemed about to reply. Then she simply walked away.

  Jace handed the sword to Jerret. “I guess you’ll still be needing this.”

  Jerret took the sword. “I suppose I always will need it.” He gazed into the distance. “Somehow I went wrong and forgot what it means to be a Divine Knight. Now I’m nothing but a barbarian, killing in the name of vengeance.” He shrugged. “If that’s what I am, then so be it. I don’t really have any skills beyond the use of my sword. I will remain a warrior for hire—if not with Ollanhar, then somewhere else. Now that I’ve lost my Knighthood, I realize how important it was to me. Galvia wouldn’t have wanted this for me.”

  “No, she would not have,” Lannon agreed. After he spoke, though, Lannon found he wasn’t so sure. The Grey Dwarves were not shy about claiming vengeance when necessary (much to the disappointment of Dremlock at times). As far as Lannon knew, Galvia’s soul might have been cheering Jerret on. There was nothing more to be said. Jerret was a different type of warrior than Lannon—a Red Knight to the core—and Lannon could never understand his ways.

  Chapter 20:

  The Banners of Ollanhar

  At Ollanhar, after funerals were held for the fallen Knights, a special ceremony took place outside on the tower grounds to honor Faindan, Furlus, Valedos, and the rest of the Nine Axes. Three days had passed since Tenneth Bard’s defeat, and it was a warm summer evening, the heavens filled with stars. A feast was held, and a fire was blazing. Orange Squires served drinks while a pair of bards wandered about between the tables and entertained the crowd.

  Faindan, Furlus, and Valedos sat apart from the others at a table. It was a pleasant evening, but Valedos was sullen—still feeling pain over the deaths of two of the Nine Axes at the hands of Tenneth Bard. Nevertheless, Valedos had already cleaned two platters of food and had consumed three jugs of ale.

  “What are we to be now?” he asked. “The Seven Axes?”

  “Seven are better than none,” said Furlus. “But there are other Dark Knights who would qualify. What about Garndon Steelbreaker? He is one of the stoutest Knights I’ve ever seen. Why haven’t you recruited him?”

  Valedos nodded. “Yes, I can find others. But the original Ten Axes fought together for so long I had come to believe we were invincible. Yet now three of us are dead. I thought the catacombs beneath Dremlock were as dangerous as things could get, yet all three perished above ground.”

  “No man is invincible,” said Furlus. “Not even Faindan here.” He nudged Faindan’s arm, smiling. “But he sure looked invincible when he knocked Tenneth Bard off his horse and injured him so deeply. It’s just a pity we were not able to successfully hunt down the Black Knight afterwards.”

  “I don’t know what I did,” said Faindan. “I just noticed my sword was wrapped in white fire, and I lashed out at him. I still can’t believe what happened.”

  “What happened,” said Furlus, “is that you caught Tenneth Bard off guard. He wasn’t expecting the white fire. If he survives his wounds, the next time he faces you he will be more prepared.”

  “What is the white fire?” asked Faindan.

  Furlus frowned. “Didn’t you pay attention during your studies as a Squire? You should have learned about the white fire.”

  “I hated study time,” Faindan admitted. “My mind was always wandering.”

  “The white fire,” Furlus said, “is an extremely rare ability that only a handful of Knights have ever possessed. Kuran Darkender was the first, and there have only been eight others since over the centuries. Faindan, you are the tenth overall. The white fire is extremely powerful, allowing a blade to cut through almost anything—even stone or steel.”

  “Like the White Flamestone itself,” said Faindan, in awe.

  Furlus shook his head. “While there are similarities, they are not the same. The white fire that you wield is something unique. It is the common Knightly fire taken to an extreme level. We believe that any Knight has the potential to unlock the white fire—but for whatever reason, only a few succeed.”

  “But what does this mean for me?” asked Faindan. “And what about the vision of Kuran Darkender I had? Does that mean anything?”

  “Possibly,” said Furlus. “Do you know what every Lord Knight who has ever served Dremlock Kingdom has in common? They all had a vision of Kuran Darkender when they were in a time of great need. In fact, such a vision is one of the major qualifications to becoming a Lord Knight.”

  Faindan shook his head in amazement. “So not only do I wield the white fire, but…if I worked extremely hard, I could be Lord Knight someday.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “A one-handed Lord Knight.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” said Furlus.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” said Valedos. “You fought well, Faindan. But you have much to learn, and the white fire can be
difficult to master. And I hate to say it, but now you will be a major target of the Deep Shadow—right up there with Lannon Sunshield and Prince Vannas.”

  “Great,” said Faindan. “I find out I have a rare power and the potential to be a Lord Knight—but now I have to constantly worry about being assassinated.”

  Furlus nodded. “Striking such a terrible blow to Tenneth Bard will have consequences for you. It is the way of things.”

  “What should I do now?” Faindan asked.

  “Eat, drink, and enjoy this fine evening,” said Furlus. “Whatever happens will happen. And that goes for you as well, Valedos.”

  Valedos’ hand clamped around his ale mug. “We already know how our stories will end. They will end with death. But what will we do in the meanwhile? What great deeds will we accomplish? There is still time.”

  “At least I have another chance,” said Faindan. “Not long ago I thought I was finished as a Divine Knight. I am truly blessed to be here.”

  “Any word from Lannon and the others?” asked Valedos.

  Faindan chuckled. “Aldreya probably thinks I’m long gone, that I quit in shame. She’s going to be in for quite a surprise.”

  “A Hawk has not arrived yet,” said Furlus, “but I doubt there is any reason for worry. They’re probably beyond the Soddurn Mountains now and well into new lands. Soon the Green Flamestone will be ours.”

  “The future is bright,” said Faindan, raising his ale mug.

  They banged their ale mugs together, as a bard broke into a new song about hope, peace, and justice in the land of silver.

  ***

  They left their tents standing on the mountainside. It was not yet time to move on. A Hawk had been sent to Dremlock carrying written news of their situation and questions for the High Council, and it would take days before they heard back—which meant days of camping in the gloomy peaks.

  Though the evil aura of the mountains was always present, the air smelled fresh and clean. With Prince Vannas claiming his ability to use the White Flamestone had improved, they were feeling optimistic about the future.