Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) (21 page)

Gelarro
bowed. “I thank you so much…”

Faindan
left him there, kneeling on the bank by his dead Goblin. He rode away from the
lonely house without looking back.

Chapter 11:

The
Celebration that was Ill Fated

Lannon
Sunshield and the Divine Knights rode into the Soddurn Mountains along rocky,
narrow trails that led between boulders and stunted pines. The thick fog, steep
slopes, and muddy ground made the journey treacherous, as the horses slipped
and stumbled. After the attack on Lannon and Bekka, the Knights were staying
fully alert, riding in silence and watching everything (or as much as could be
watched with the dreadfully thick mist shrouding the landscape).

Bekka
was still unconscious—lying in the back of a wagon—since being bitten by the
Ghoul. She moaned and writhed about in her sleep, waving her arms as if to ward
off unseen foes. Whatever nightmare she was trapped in was too horrible for the
others to imagine, yet they could do nothing to wake her. Dallsa had already
spent hours working on Bekka, yet she showed little sign of improvement.

 
Everyone wanted to get through the Soddurn
Mountains quickly and without further incident, but the going was torturously
slow. They felt like arrogant intruders (and perhaps they were), boldly daring
to venture where so many others had perished over the centuries. The Knights
were supposed to fear these mountains and go around them, as most everyone else
did, but with the White Flamestone in their possession, they rode straight into
the gloomy peaks where forgotten horrors of the Deep Shadow lurked and hungered
for human flesh.

They
made camp for the evening on a fairly level area amidst some pines. They built
a bonfire with dead, grey trees that looked like a huge pile of burning bones.
Smoldering pieces of ash drifted with the breeze beneath the pine boughs. They
cooked bear meat for dinner, and a young Blue Knight named Garaloth Demonfoe
played melodies on a flute. Garaloth was a short, stocky Red Knight with red
hair and a beard and a constant cheerful expression. He had been trained as a
bard and was also the scribe and record keeper.

“There
is so much gloom in these mountains,” said Garaloth, “that I propose
we hold a Knightly celebration—a Crimson Feast to be more precise. We need to
show these slaves of Tharnin that we do not fear them, that Divine Knights will
make merry anywhere and under any circumstances.”

Lannon
had never taken part in a Crimson Feast before. This was just one of many
rituals and celebrations held by Dremlock. He glanced down at Taith, who was
standing next to him looking bored.

“Would
you like to celebrate with us?” Lannon asked.

“No,”
said Taith. “Why should we celebrate? I don’t like these mountains. They
make me feel sad and afraid, like all of us are going to die.”

“That’s
the presence of the Deep Shadow,” said Lannon. “It gets into the mind
and tries to drain your will. You have to learn to resist it.”

“I
don’t like the Deep Shadow,” said Taith. “Don’t like it one bit.
Can’t we just keep riding until we get through the mountains?”

Lannon
didn’t bother to answer.

“I
think we should indeed celebrate,” said Aldreya. “It would make a
powerful statement—to hold a Crimson Feast in the Soddurn Mountains.”

“Yet
it could also offend our enemies,” said Jace. “It could stir up the
evil against us and make our foes bold. That could lead to bloodshed.”

“Bloodshed
has already occurred,” said Aldreya. “Bekka Nightspear lies in the
back of a wagon, seemingly more dead than alive. She hasn’t gotten a moment of
rest since being bitten. The Soddurn Mountains struck first, and now it is up
to us to respond. We will show our defiance.”

“I’m
with Jace on this,” said Vorden, who was leaning against a pine and
holding his spiked shield. His face looked troubled. “I know more about
the Deep Shadow than anyone here. I was a prisoner of it for a long time. I
suggest we just quietly slip through the mountains, as quickly as we can. With
Lannon and Prince Vannas riding with us, the servants of Tharnin may simply opt
to let us pass through. But not if we hold this feast. If we dare to honor the
Crimson Flamestone that killed so many creatures of Tharnin, we are sure to be
attacked.”

“Listen
to Vorden,” said Jace. “He, above all others, is wise in the ways of
Tharnin. Let us simply eat, sleep, and ride on come morning.”

“Perhaps
my suggestion was foolish,” said Garaloth. He sighed and ran his fingers
through his red hair. “I…I wasn’t really thinking about the
consequences. I certainly don’t want to stir up our foes.”

“Why
not?” said Jerret. “Bekka is suffering wretchedly. And as Divine
Knights we’re supposed to simply ignore that and slink off through the
mountains? We need a bold statement—one that will set an example for all the
land. So many Knights have vanished here. We owe it to them to show we are not
afraid.”

Aldreya
smiled. “Well said, Jerret. I very much agree.”

Galvia
patted Jerret on the back. “You are growing more wise each day, my very
good friend. Yes, we need to show Tharnin what we’re made of.”

“Even
if we hold this feast,” said Prince Vannas, “Tharnin will not dare
attack us. They would burn in white fire. No, our foes will hide in the fog and
fear us like the cowards they are.”

“But
there is a fortress in these peaks,” said Jace, “called Wallrock.
Many Knights were taken to that foul place and met some terrible end. I do not
speak in jest. There is a real fortress filled with real enemies of immense
power that could be unleashed upon us. Have we come here to start a war? No,
our goal is the Green Flamestone and our conflict with Bellis.”

“We
have not come to start a war,” said Aldreya, “but we are Divine
Knights, and wherever we go, we must display the banner of Dremlock and the
Divine Essence. It is our duty to never show fear or weakness.”

Jace
sighed. “With all due respect, Green Knight, you’re not thinking clearly.
This isn’t about fear or weakness. Sometimes stealth and avoidance of conflict
is desirable, and I firmly believe that is the case right now.”

“I’m
with Vorden and Jace,” said Lothrin. “No need for us to hold this
celebration when we can quietly go about our business.”

“I
want a feast,” said Daledus. “And a grand one at that. With a crimson
bonfire and everything else. We shall make this mountain bow to our will.”

“What
is your opinion, Lannon?” asked Aldreya.

“Lannon
wants to leave here quickly,” Taith answered, “without any
feast.” He squeezed Lannon’s arm. “Right, Lannon?”

“You
don’t speak for me, Taith,” Lannon said firmly. “Now go sit down and
stay out of this discussion.” He pointed at a log.

Sighing,
Taith shuffled over and sat.

“I’m
not sure I want to hold the feast,” said Lannon. “I love Dremlock’s
traditions, and I do want to honor all the Knights who have died in these
mountains…but I don’t know. We don’t want to start a war up here.”

“I
need a firm decision from you,” said Aldreya.

Lannon
hesitated, then said, “My decision is…it would be best if we didn’t hold
the feast. I’m trusting Jace and Vorden on that.”

“Some
are in favor, some are against,” said Aldreya. “So who feels
comfortable with me making the final decision?”

The
Council Members all raised hands.

“Very
well,” said Aldreya. She stood in silence for a time, then said, “I
can almost feel the souls of the fallen around me. I can almost hear them
asking for this feast to show they did not die in vain. I think the Divine
Essence would want this. Therefore, we will go ahead with it.”

Vorden
slammed his shield down and walked away.

Jace
nodded. “So be it. We must be cautious, then, and limit how much wine and
ale we drink. We will have to watch everything.”

Garaloth
shrugged, then threw a concoction into the fire and changed it to a crimson
hue. He said, “Well, looks like we’re going to do this. I must admit I
feel a bit apprehensive in light of our conversation. But…” He grinned
broadly. “But if we’re going to proceed, let us celebrate like Divine
Knights!”

The
crowd cheered.

Garaloth
raised his arms proudly and said, “We hold this feast in honor of the
dead—those valiant Knights who dared enter these mountains, for whatever
reasons they had at the time, and found only suffering and death.” He
bowed his head. “Indeed, we cannot even imagine what they endured, in the
blood-soaked cliffs and in that terrible fortress of Wallrock where all hope
and goodness has withered away. They must have felt so alone and so far from
home.”

Garaloth
stood in silence for a few moments. Then he went on, in a louder voice:
“And we are here to honor the Crimson Flamestone, the Blood of the Divine
Essence that cleansed the world of the Barloak Demons.”

A
burst of spark and flame rose from the fire.

Garaloth
suddenly turned, and his eyes were glowing crimson. A gasp arose from the
Knights. He said: “We also hold this feast in honor of Ethrin, son of
Lothrin, that he may be the first in over two-thousand years—
two-thousand
years
—to hold the Crimson Flamestone in his hands.”

The
Knights looked on in amazement, for they knew the Divine Essence was speaking
through Garaloth. It was no longer the Red Knight before them, but a human
vessel filled with the mind of their god.

Aldreya
turned to Lothrin, an expression of awe on her face. “Our god speaks of
your future son, Lothrin. Respond!”

Lothrin
stepped forward, his face pale. “My future son will be named Ethrin? Yet
how will I produce a son if I remain a Divine Knight?”

“Ethrin
Windbow will be his name,” replied the Divine Essence. “I command it
to be so. You must strive to bear a son—when the time is right—and name him
such. Yet the Sacred Laws cannot be broken.”

Lothrin
reached up and touched the strange, leaf-shaped birthmark on his cheek.
“Then Ethrin will be the one. He will be marked by the leaf that burns.
Only
he
will be able to remove the Crimson Flamestone from its bed of
straw, where Olzet Ka, our mighty king, placed it so long ago.” He spoke
with deep reverence.

Lannon
couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Was the Divine Essence actually speaking
through Garaloth, or was it some trick of the Deep Shadow? Lannon could feel
the presence of his god, however, and his doubts vanished. He glanced about and
saw only expressions of shock and wonder.

Jace’s
eyes were fierce with emotion as he watched the scene unfold. At last, the huge
sorcerer stepped close to Lothrin and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You
must tell us more, oh mighty lord of Dremlock! Tell us everything that you know
so we will understand how to serve you better!”

“I
know only this,” said the Divine Essence, again speaking through Garaloth.
“My blood must be free again in the land, or there will be no land. All of
the Flamestones are one, even though they remain apart. Find one, and it will
lead you to another. I will go silent now for seven years, during which time
many things will be decided. There will certainly be much pain and loss, but if
my Knights stay strong and true, there will be victory as well.”

Lannon
and Prince Vannas stepped forward, waiting for words of wisdom. As the two most
important warriors at Dremlock, they hoped the Divine Essence would take a
moment to guide them. But their god hadn’t appeared for that purpose, and
Garaloth’s lips spoke no more.

Finally,
Garaloth’s eyes became normal.

“Incredible,”
said Jace. “I haven’t seen such a thing…well, ever. Not that it hasn’t
happened before, but I wasn’t around to see it.”

Lothrin
looked stunned. “Our god wants me to produce a son and name him Ethrin
Windbow. The name makes sense. It is one of Birlote royalty. But…I am to
produce a son without violating the Sacred Laws that forbid marriage? It is
impossible!”

“In
time, anything is possible,” said Aldreya.

“Your
son will hold the Crimson Flamestone?” said Prince Vannas, looking
skeptical. “While I trust in our god, it just doesn’t seem likely. Any son
of yours, Lothrin, would be inclined to spend his days hunting and fishing and
wandering the forest, not wielding a Flamestone.”

“Lothrin’s
son
might
gain possession of it,” said Jace. “He apparently
has the potential to remove it from the straw. This is a huge revelation, my
friends. This is what I have been seeking for a long time, because I know only
the Flamestones can defeat Bellis and the Deep Shadow now.”

“But
this is crazy!” said Lothrin. “I don’t have a son! I’m limited only
to friendship with women. Therefore, how can I produce a son?”

“Knights
do retire and marry,” Lannon pointed out. That seemed the obvious answer,
but that meant that Lothrin would have to keep himself alive for a long
time—not always an easy task for a Divine Knight.

“Yet
that could be decades from now,” said Lothrin, “if it ever happens.
Am I supposed to wait that long? Am I supposed to worry that I will fall in
battle and my future son will never be born?”