Vorden bowed his head in shame.
But Taith ran to Lannon and seized him, wrapping his arms around him. "Just leave them alone, Lannon. You're not cruel like that."
"It's not cruelty," said Lannon. But Taith's words and actions had made him realize he was behaving strangely.
"Sheath your sword, Lannon," said Vorden. "I sense the Deep Shadow at work in you. I can't prove it, but I know it's in there."
"Vorden!" Aldreya's eyes widened. "That is a very serious accusation. Lannon has every right to slay those Goblins." She strode forward and seized Taith's arm, tearing him away from Lannon and covering his eyes.
But Vorden refused to yield.
"Enough!" Jerret growled. He rose, drew his broadsword, and made quick work of the Goblins and their Mother Tree, soaking the back of the cave in black blood. When he was done, he cleaned his blade and sheathed it.
"I guess that settles it," said Jace, yawning.
"Disgusting," said Dallsa, turning away with a sigh.
Lannon simply stood in shocked silence, his sword dangling from his hand. What had happened to him? What dark power had sought to seize control? Was it truly the Deep Shadow as Vorden had insisted? Lannon wondered if this was the beginning of the end for him--that downward path to evil that all Dark Watchmen seemed to eventually walk. If so, could he stop it somehow? Should he take his own life before it was too late? These thoughts swirled through his mind and left him more miserable than he had ever felt before.
Dallsa clutched his shoulder. "Is everything okay, Lannon?"
Lannon could only shake his head.
And then Jace was there, peering down at him. "Don't fret, young man," said the sorcerer. "You were just having a moment. Happens from time to time to the best of us. Calm yourself and have some cheese." He smiled.
"What can I do?" Lannon asked, feeling helpless.
"Stay true to yourself," said Jace. "Or something like that. And have some cheese." He waved something under Lannon's nose.
Lannon's eyes slowly focused on the important object that Jace was presenting to him. It was a chunk of cheddar with a few bites missing.
***
They tended to the horses, and then dried themselves with sorcery. They sat in a circle on quilts, wondering how long the storm would keep them prisoner. Everyone still seemed sullen and quick to anger.
"This cave reeks of evil," said Jace. "That's why everyone is temperamental. The Deep Shadow comes in many forms. It seeps into the blood."
Aldreya smirked. "And here I thought we were simply being childish. Aren't Divine Knights supposed to be able to resist evil influences?"
"Not all of them can," said Jace. He gave Aldreya an exaggerated bow. "I don't mean you, of course. You are a strong Birlote of royal blood and can resist anything." There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"I vote we argue it out," said Daledus. He slapped the cave floor, sending up a cloud of dust. "Let's settle this like Dwarves!"
Prince Vannas rolled his eyes. "Yes, we'll drink ale until we can barely stand and then pummel each other with our fists. How very civilized."
Daledus laughed. "Is that how you view us?"
"Unfortunately, yes," said Prince Vannas. "Isn't that what Dwarves do?"
"That's what I do," said Daledus. "But not all Dwarves."
"Just the extreme vast majority?" said Vannas.
Daledus' grin vanished. "You have a lot to learn, oh prince. Put aside your little glow stone and I'll be happy to teach you."
"Here we go again," mused Lothrin. "Exactly why I prefer solitude."
"I tell you it's the Deep Shadow," said Jace. "No question about it." He stretched out on his quilt, his long body taking up an annoying amount of space, his huge boots inches from Daledus' beard. "I would rather sleep through all this nonsense. Wake me when the storm ends."
The Grey Dwarf gazed down at the boots, frowning. When Jace failed to move them, Daledus pushed his legs away. "Keep your stinking feet away from me, sorcerer. This cave is foul enough without your boots in my face."
Jace opened one eye. "That was quite uncalled for."
"I vote we throw Jace out of the cave," said Jerret, grinning. "Stinking boots and all."
"Try it," muttered Jace. "You might be built like a bull, but you'll find this old sorcerer isn't so easily pushed around."
"I'm growing weary of this," said Aldreya. "If we can't get along, then we should all be silent. We're setting a poor example for Taith."
"Yes, everyone be quiet," said Bekka. "I would hate to have to knock some heads together. Can't we just enjoy being warm and dry?"
Taith sat by Lannon, his face pale and full of worry. His mind was on other issues besides the petty bickering.
Lannon hadn't said a word since the incident with the Mother Nest. Instead he searched within himself for answers. How had he lost control so easily? One moment he had been confident--sure of who he was--and the next he was a completely different person who seemed to take delight in power and violence. Somehow he had let his guard down and the Deep Shadow had crept into his heart. It was a frightening realization. Tharnin had a way of sneaking up on people, of disguising its presence until it was too late, which was how it had been able to consume so many great Knights throughout history. All Lannon could do was try to learn from this and constantly seek to guard against it.
Outside, the storm began to let up. It would soon be time to move on again, to at last put the Soddurn Mountains behind them. Lannon would forever be left with bad memories of this place, of Galvia's death and his own loss of control. He made the vow of a Knight--to someday return and cleanse these mountains of evil so that the sun would shine upon the rocks and fair breezes would blow through the peaks. But for now there were greater battles to be fought.
It was time to enter new lands.
Chapter 3:
The Town called Red Barrel
It was a chill evening, with the parting clouds streaked red by the setting sun, when the travelers at last left the Soddurn Mountains behind. Lannon paused to glance back at the dark peaks that rose up against the crimson sky. Chills crept over his flesh as he gazed upon that evil domain, and then he turned his attention to the barren plains that stretched into the distance before them.
The new lands didn't look like much, so far. The only signs of life were grass and lone trees here and there. The soil was boggy, crisscrossed by pale, fallen pines and dotted with boulders, but the fog and rain were gone.
They continued on into the night, choosing to get as far away from the mountains as possible. The ground became firm, and they found themselves riding past cornfields and groves of hardwood trees.
With the stars cheerfully visible overhead, and an occasional farmhouse here and there, the travelers felt great relief. But Aldreya warned that something evil was following them. No one else could glimpse it (not even Lannon), but she insisted she sensed a dark presence watching them. Still, they relished the feeling that they had truly left the grim shadow of the mountains behind. It was still a dangerous region--with Goblins on the prowl, especially at night--but the signs of civilization around there were a very welcome sight.
At last they camped next to a cornfield. Wolves howled nearby throughout the night, and Vultures circled above--dark and ugly shapes outlined against the stars. Lannon opted to keep first watch, and Bekka chose to stay up with him. The two sat across from each other, a crackling fire between them sending orange sparks into the air. It was a cold night, and they had donned fur cloaks.
"The weather should warm," said Bekka, "as we near the coast."
"Good," said Lannon, shivering beneath his fur cloak. "Though I'm puzzled by that. Why is the weather so much warmer there?"
Bekka shrugged. "That's the way it has always been. Seldom do the coastal regions see snow or ice. The sun is brighter there, and warm winds and water currents pass that way. The people rarely need furs or quilts, and fruit is abundant. It's a blessing from the Great Light. What else could it be?"
&nb
sp; Lannon gazed into the distance. "I don't know. But warm waters and sandy beaches seem a long way from the cold and barren Soddurn Mountains. Our world is strange...so different from land to land."
"Perhaps," said Bekka. "Yet I fear that the ocean--and whatever terrors await us there--will make us long for those mountains. We're not journeying into a land of warmth and joy, but someplace dreadful, where Bellis' greatest warriors have vanished without a trace." She shivered.
"You're probably right," said Lannon, "but I can't imagine it. All I'm picturing is sunshine and peaceful blue waters."
Bekka laughed. "Keep picturing it. Enjoy it while you can."
They fell silent for a while, gazing at the fire. Bats darted in and out of the circle of light. An owl hooted nearby from a small oak grove.
Then Bekka rose unsteadily to her feet. She drew her Flayer and practiced a few moves, sending blue fire into the blade.
"You should rest," said Lannon.
"No," she said. "I can't rest...not since that monster bit me. All I can think about is improving, growing stronger."
"You remind me of Jerret," said Lannon. "All he ever wants to do is train. Believe it or not, he was once considered lazy." Memories flashed through Lannon's mind of his own youth, and he added, "Actually, so was I."
"He has become very powerful," said Bekka. "His training has paid off, making him a Knight to fear. Well, a former Knight to fear anyway."
Bekka was barely able to stand, yet she kept practicing.
Lannon rose and wandered off into the darkness--to the edge of the cornfield. He could sense a grim presence amongst the stalks, gazing out at him. He stood and waited for it to speak. He was lost in shadow and Bekka could no longer see him. That was just as well. He didn't want her trying to assist him.
The Deep Shadow lurked in the corn--in some form or another. It had crept down from the mountains and followed them, just as Aldreya had warned. It had a message for Lannon that it whispered in his ear. It had forgiven him for killing Lord Hathannis and it wanted him to surrender himself and become a Knight of Tharnin. It promised him wealth and prosperity beyond his imagination.
Lannon thought of Taith. What if such an offer of prosperity was made to the boy? Would he be able to resist it?
With two Dark Watchman serving Dremlock, surely one of them would eventually fall to the Deep Shadow. But who would it be?
"It won't be me," Lannon said aloud.
A pair of yellow eyes gazed at him from the corn.
"Do you hear me?" Lannon declared boldly. "It won't be me!"
The eyes moved closer, revealing a bulky shadow behind them and a foul stench that like that of an ancient tomb. "You are so certain of this," came an inhuman whisper. "But even if you resist us, others will fall."
Lannon drew his sword. He swore to himself he would resist the will of the Deep Shadow. He had to. Far too much was at stake.
"And it won't be anyone else, if I have my say," he added, thinking of Taith. I won't let you corrupt the boy, he vowed.
He thought he heard a quiet laugh.
"Go back to your mountain lair," Lannon commanded, "and don't seek me again." As he finished speaking, he realized the shadow was already gone. Only the dark and silent cornstalks remained.
***
The next day, they encountered many farms. They met other travelers along the road, some who greeted them warmly and some who regarded them with fear and suspicion--with the latter folks possibly mistaking them for Knights of Bellis. Many roads led off in many directions, and no one was journeying toward the Soddurn Mountains. Only an utter fool, a madman, or someone truly desperate would dare take that ancient route.
I guess that makes us truly desperate, Lannon thought.
It was a sunny day, a bit cool, and the smell of fall was in the air. The tree leaves were showing traces of gold and red. Wood smoke from chimneys drifted over the land, filling the riders' nostrils with a pleasant and inviting scent that spoke of warm fires and hot food. They were eager to reach Red Barrel and secure a good meal. They were tired of jerky and cheese and wanted something tender to sink a fork into.
"I crave three loves of bread," said Jace, licking his lips. "Maybe four. Yes, I think four will do. How far are we from that town?"
"Bread is the food of weaklings," said Daledus, "and those with big bellies. Give me a platter of beef and a piece or three of buttered squash. And some ale to wash it all down." He patted his belly. "Hard as stone."
Jace waved dismissively. "The boring diet of a warrior. Not enough sugar. I love my cakes, pies, and puddings. Life is too short not to indulge. I would rather die happy at the young age of two-hundred and twenty than have a boring existence and live to be four hundred."
Bekka lifted her tunic, revealing flawless muscles beneath her dark skin. "How does my belly look to you, Dwarf?"
Daledus nodded in approval. "Woman, those muscles look as hard as Dragon scales. Not bad for a Norack."
Dallsa smiled at Bekka. "You are becoming such a mighty warrior. Most Knights could not have healed so quickly--if at all--from that terrible wound. Even Shennen Silverarrow would be impressed."
Bekka shook her head. "I don't deserve Shennen's praise. Not yet."
"Keep training, Bekka," said Prince Vannas. "Someday you will be half the warrior that Shennen is." His face bore a serious expression.
Bekka glared at him and balled up her fist. "Now I just want to knock you off your horse, little prince. If only my strength was back."
Vannas shrugged. "Just stating the truth."
"Shennen will always be the best," Jerret agreed. "No one can come close. It would be an honor to be half the warrior he is."
Bekka turned toward the mercenary. "So you need to be knocked off your horse too, I see." She raised her fist. "As soon as I'm healthy, I'm going to give you and the prince a good beating."
Jerret chuckled. "Why be so angry, my love?" He drew his horse up alongside hers. "Why give me a beating when a kiss would be so much more pleasant?" He puckered up his lips and leaned toward her.
"Not a chance," muttered Bekka. "Jerret, I'm going to rip out your lungs and stomp on them before all is said and done."
Jerret ceased his behavior and drew back, his face somber. "Don't take it so seriously. I was only joking, Bekka."
She drew her Flayer and swatted him on the back with the flat of it. She laughed. "I never take you seriously. But I will cut off your lips if you lean in on me like that again."
Daledus roared laughter.
Looking grumpy, Jerret slowed his horse and let her move ahead. Lately, his moods changed swiftly and without warning. Galvia's death and the loss of his Knighthood weighed heavily on him day and night. He tried to pretend he was unaffected, but he often failed miserably at the task. Everyone knew he was hurting inside. What they didn't know was where that pain would lead him--if more trouble awaited him in the role of a lawless mercenary.
They rode on without speaking for a few miles.
Then Bekka whispered to Lannon, "I see flashes of the old Jerret there, but he's still struggling inside. His soul is wounded."
Lannon nodded and mumbled, "He'll figure it out. He just needs time." Yet Lannon wasn't so certain. Jerret was unpredictable and dangerous--stronger than all but a few Divine Knights and extremely skilled, with a mighty blade to match his abilities. His future seemed lost in a murky fog, and a future like that was sure to get noticed by the Deep Shadow. Jerret lived for combat and bloodshed, and Tharnin favored warriors like him and was sure to offer him a lofty position within its ranks at some point. Jerret was extremely stubborn--but with the loss of his Knighthood, could he be swayed to turn against Dremlock?
Bekka seemed to read Lannon's mind. "This is how the Blood Legion began--with Knights of Dremlock getting expelled from the Order." She still held her Flayer in one hand, as if too weary to sheath it. The act of swatting Jerret's back with it seemed have taken a lot out of her.
"Yes," said Lannon, who knew the
stories well. "It all started with Tenneth Bard, the bitter Black Knight. The same Tenneth Bard who nearly killed me in the woods not too long ago and who still plots against Dremlock after all these centuries. He has never forgiven our kingdom for banishing him."
"And many have followed in his footsteps," said Bekka, still whispering. "We will have to watch Jerret closely in the days ahead."
Lannon gave a quick nod, not liking the idea but knowing it was necessary. "Better keep an eye on me as well," he said. "After all, I'm a Dark Watchman and we know what became of them."
"Truthfully," said Bekka, "I won't be doing much watching of anyone. I'll probably be sleeping a lot in the days ahead, if I can deal with the nightmares. It's taking every ounce of my strength just to ride and talk with you. But I hate to sleep right now. I can't explain how terrible it is. I have no words for it."
"Dallsa can help you," said Lannon, feeling deep sympathy for her plight. Bekka was obviously in dire need of sleep, but she was choosing the lesser of two tortures--forcing herself to ride even as her eyelids fought to slip shut and her muscles could barely support her.
"Dallsa is doing all she can," said Bekka. "She's tired too."
Her eyelids finally won the battle and closed. Her body sagged to one side. The Flayer slipped from her hand and fell to the dirt.
Lannon propped her up in the saddle. Then he summoned the fallen Flayer to his hand and placed it in her sheath.
"Rest easy, Bekka," he said.
Her eyelids fluttered open. Then her hand clamped down on the sheath. Finding her Flayer there, her eyelids closed again. For a few moments she appeared peaceful, and then a dreadful moan escaped her lips and her body shook as the dark sorcery gnawed at her soul.
***
Red Barrel was a town in the middle of nowhere. It was occupied by farmers, fur trappers, and Rangers. Bellis Kingdom's oppressive presence was not felt there due to the town's remote location, and many of the Rangers from Silverland had moved there to escape being harassed by King Verlamer's soldiers. There were plenty of farms that needed protecting from Goblins, and plenty of travelers seeking to be escorted through areas were bandits prowled the roads.
Knights: Legends of Ollanhar Page 4
