Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) (28 page)

“A
Dark Watchman is indeed a mighty weapon,” said Taris. “He is a
warrior unlike any other. To even have one Dark Watchman on our side is a great
blessing. I would say that Lannon is, in his own way, just as important as any
Flamestone. If, that is, he can manage to keep himself alive.”

“But
that’s the problem,” said Trenton. “Lannon is young and able to fall
into snares. Also, he bears the great potential to be cursed by the Deep
Shadow, like all the Dark Watchman of ages past—which means he could turn
against us. Can we afford to have him as a foe, considering all the other
dangers we face? Probably not. He could doom us. And it is not likely he will
escape that curse.”

“Does
it matter?” said Shennen, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like we’re
going to throw Lannon out because he might be a future threat to us.”

“Lannon
can escape the curse,” said Taris. “It doesn’t matter if the others
faltered. Lannon doesn’t need to follow in their footsteps, as long as he
remains strong and wise. He has compassion and nobility, and if he clings to
both relentlessly, he will not fail. Yet even a single act of selfishness or
cruelty could doom him.”

“I
have never spoken to Lannon,” said Lort. “But I admire him greatly. I
believe he of all Dark Watchman will maintain his honor.”

“Perhaps,”
said Trenton, “but the odds are against it.”

Shennen
yawned. “Why do we discuss topics that have been talked to death? Yes,
Lannon could fall to the Deep Shadow. We know that. We knew it before we
recruited him. And so on and so forth.”

Taris
smiled. “You are still fairly new to the High Council, Shennen. You will
come to understand that
talking a topic to death
is what we do.
Especially with Trenton around, as he is never satisfied.”

Trenton
shrugged. “An issue tends to remain on the agenda until we figure out a
solution. So yes, I will continue bringing up old topics.”

“Can
we move on now?” asked Shennen.

Trenton
sneered. “I take it you would rather be out and about assassinating
someone? Why don’t you go and dispatch King Verlamer?”

“I
have considered it,” said Shennen, his expression serious.

“Moving
on, then,” said Taris, reaching for his tea. The sorcerer hesitated,
seemingly lost in thought all of a sudden. “What were we talking
about?” he asked, looking confused. It was no secret that the Lord Knight
of Dremlock still suffered pain from his terrible injuries—from the scars on
half of his face that had been inflicted by evil sorcery to a severe head
injury that had damaged his brain—and occasionally he experienced brief mental
lapses that caused him to forget things or lose focus. But overall, Taris
remained the wisest figure at Dremlock and the one whom everyone looked to for
answers. He had done an extraordinary job of overcoming wounds that had once
nearly forced him into retirement, and his skills as a sorcerer had increased
dramatically in spite of his struggles.

“The
Flamestones,” Shennen reminded him.

“We’ve
talked enough about the Flamestones,” said Trenton. “Let us talk
about the Hand of Tharnin and what has become of it.”

Taris
fixed his gaze on Lort. “Recently, we sought to bring the Hand of Tharnin
and the Black Flamestone to Dremlock. However, our Knights were ambushed three
days ago and the Hand of Tharnin was stolen. The Black Flamestone was carried
off by one of our Elder Hawks during the battle and brought here, and now it is
locked safely in a very secure vault.”

“Was
it Bellis?” asked Lort, dreading the thought that King Verlamer was in
possession of the Hand of Tharnin.

“We
believe it was Tenneth Bard,” said Taris. “The Black Knight is alive
again in the flesh, and he was seeking the device. Now that he has possession
of it, he will be even more dangerous—which is why I suspect he will try to
take Ollanhar. Furlus will have his hands full against this foe.”

“If
you don’t mind me asking,” said Lort, “what does this all have to do
with me? Why are you sharing this information?”

“You
are very adept at using a shield,” said Taris. “The best at Dremlock,
in fact. You have mastered a style that hasn’t been used for two centuries. It
is our opinion that we need more of what you have to offer. We need to create
strong defenders of Ollanhar who can withstand Tenneth Bard and his Goblins.
You will go there with a group of Brown Knights—twenty in all—and train them
in how to properly use their shields as weapons. We have forged spiked shields
for all of you. You are hereby promoted to the Council of Ollanhar.”

Lort
bowed, overwhelmed by the great honor that had just been bestowed on him.
“Thank you Master Taris, Master Shennen, and Master…” His mind drew
a blank for a moment in his excitement.

“Master
Trenton
,” said Trenton, frowning.

Lort
bowed twice to the former Investigator. “I will do my best to serve, as
always. But I have a question, if you don’t mind. How is fighting with a shield
superior to fighting with sword or axe?”

“It’s
not necessarily superior,” said Shennen. “Just different. At one
time, Brown Knights fought
only
with shields and were very successful.
However, that was eventually changed because of Kuran Darkender—who wielded
both sword and shield. It was decided by the High Council that the Brown
Knights should return to their roots. But we believe that was a mistake, that
fighting with a shield only—as you do, Lort—is the best way for Brown Knights
to engage in battle. It is a style that Tenneth Bard won’t be familiar with,
and it will give us an edge.”

“We
need an edge,” said Taris, “because Tenneth Bard has raised a massive
army of mighty Goblins, and with the Hand of Tharnin to serve him, we can only
guess at how powerful he has become.”

“When
do I leave?” asked Lort, eager to begin the mission.

“Today,”
said Taris. “Go and choose your twenty Brown Knights, then prepare your
horses. You will ride out after lunch.”

“I
will defend Ollanhar to my last breath,” Lort promised. He couldn’t help
but grin, thinking of how his career had just taken a huge leap forward. He was
now on the Council of Ollanhar! He couldn’t believe his good fortune.

The
Green Knights exchanged grim glances, and Lort’s grin faltered. “Yet
hopefully it won’t come to that,” he added. He lifted his cup with a
trembling hand and finished off his tea, which had grown cold.

Chapter 14:

 
The Golden Truth

“I
will give you one more chance,” said the Lawkeeper, to the captives.
“You will tell us everything you know about, well,
everything
—and
do it quickly—or I will coerce the information from you by means of
pain.”

None
of the Divine Knights spoke.

The
Lawkeeper was soaked from the storm, yet somehow his silver hair continued to
maintain its spiked appearance. His devilish Birlote face was twisted with
anger. “I could be warm and dry inside my tent, relaxing with a goblet of
wine, but I have to stand here getting blasted by the rain like a fool waiting
for you to speak. With each moment that passes, your suffering will be
greater.”

“What
do you hope to learn?” asked Galvia. “You already know why we’re
journeying through these mountains. You know what our goal is. You have been
following us for that very reason.”

“Don’t
try to deceive me,” said the Lawkeeper. “You are on the Council of
Ollanhar. I know there is useful information you can give me that would result
in a quicker and more pleasant death for you.”

“Death
is death,” said Galvia. “The manner in which you kill me doesn’t
matter, for eventually my pain will end. You have nothing to barter with.”

“The
life of the boy, perhaps?” said the Lawkeeper. He drew a dagger and
stepped close to Taith.

Taith
cringed and shrank back.

“Don’t
think I won’t do this,” said the Lawkeeper. “Even a child’s life can
be sacrificed for the greater good of my kingdom. So are you willing to tell me
what I wish to hear in exchange for his survival?”

“No,”
said Galvia, glowering up at him. “I will not barter for his life or the
life of anyone else. I will obey the Sacred Laws no matter what, as commanded
by the Divine Essence. Do what you must.”

The
Lawkeeper’s face turned crimson. “I’m so weary of you insane fanatics and
your pathetic god. Even the life of an innocent boy won’t sway you from your
wretched beliefs?” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “This is why I
hate dealing with Divine Knights.”

“We
have nothing to tell you,” said Garaloth.

“Very
well,” said the Lawkeeper. “You leave me no choice. I must introduce
you to one of my favorite devices—The Golden Truth.”

The
Golden Truth was a fancy torture rack on wheels that was rolled into the tent.
It was made of oak and polished brass, with symbols of the sun carved into the
wood. The Lawkeeper gazed at it with pride.

“This
will make you talk,” he said. “It has never failed.”

Galvia’s
irons were removed and she was bound to the torture rack. Slowly the Lawkeeper
turned the crank, stretching her body. “You will feel immense pain in your
joints, like nothing you have ever felt before.”

As
a Divine Knight of Dremlock, Galvia was well prepared for torture. Using the
power of her mind, backed by her Knightly essence, she fortified her body
against the torment, flooding her limbs with energy. The energy not only dulled
the pain, but it also protected her against injury.

Frowning,
the Lawkeeper turned the crank even more, grunting from the effort, and still
Galvia’s face did not change expression. She was capable of resisting for hours
or even days if need be, her mind going into a deep state of meditation. Time
and space became meaningless for her, and all she knew or understood was the
fortification of her body against the force that was trying to stretch it. She
became like stone—immobile, unyielding, and blessed with endless patience.

“I
think I’ll go have some wine,” said the Lawkeeper. “Meanwhile, you
just enjoy the warm embrace of The Golden Truth. It will loosen your
tongue.” He strode from the tent, leaving a soldier with a crossbow to
guard the prisoners.

“Are
you okay, Galvia?” Wreld called out.

“Don’t
talk to her,” said Garaloth. “She will need all of her focus.”

“Sorry,”
Wreld mumbled.

“So
this is how Bellis treats its prisoners,” said Garaloth, to the soldier.
“Putting a woman on a torture rack. Are you enjoying the sight?”

The
soldier—a lean man with a scarred, weathered face and eyes that reflected
bitterness—sneered in response and spat on the ground. “Why should I
care? You are enemies of King Verlamer and no punishment is too harsh for you.
If I could put an arrow in you right now, I would.”

“Are
all warriors of Bellis so heartless?” asked Wreld. “You leave a boy
in shackles to shiver in the mud? What kind of coward are you?”

“Don’t
waste your time,” said the soldier. “You won’t get any pity from me.
I’ve killed women and children myself, and I don’t regret it in the least.
Those who oppose my kingdom are not human and don’t deserve compassion. I hate
the whole lot of you and will enjoy watching you die.”

The
Knights fell silent, knowing it was useless to try to reason with this warrior.
He was jaded to the point where even a child’s life meant nothing to him and
all he knew or understood was hatred for his foes.

An
hour passed, and then the Lawkeeper returned with a Thallite Giant who had to
duck to fit under the tent roof. The giant seemed to fill up the tent, his
massive muscles bulging beneath his crimson armor.

“Are
you ready to talk yet?” the Lawkeeper asked.

Galvia
didn’t respond, lost completely in her focus. She was aware of what was going
on around her, but only in a vague, detached sense.

“Amazing,”
the Lawkeeper said, shaking his head. “Divine Knights are extraordinary
warriors. No wonder your kingdom is still free when so many others have fallen.
But let’s see how you do against a Thallite.”

The
Lawkeeper turned to the giant. “Use your strength freely, my friend, but
don’t kill her. I only want her to suffer greatly.”

Grinning,
the giant seized the brass crank in his huge hand and slowly began to turn it.
The others groaned, dreading what was about to happen.

***

Lannon
and the others followed a winding mountain path that led them across narrow
ledges and steep slopes. They realized they could not have ridden their horses
along this perilous route anyway. They found themselves in places where one
slip would send them tumbling to their doom, with the wind and rain and lightning
making things all the more deadly.

At
last they came to a point in the trail that was nearly impassable. The path
ended at a sheer cliff, but resumed higher up on the mountainside across a
narrow divide. Lothrin had a coil of rope and a grapple hook, and he tried to
snag it on rocks on the upper path, but it kept slipping back down.

“Unless
we can figure out a way to fly,” said Jace, “we seem to be in trouble
here. By the look of things, it appears the mountain rock shifted at some
point, rendering this trail useless.” He pointed to where the trail
climbed ever higher up the mountainside, revealed by the lightning. “I’m
guessing this is the only way up to Wallrock from here, unless one has plenty
of rope and other climbing gear, which we do not. We are ill equipped for this
journey.”

“Yet
if the horses went to Wallrock,” said Aldreya, “there must be an
easier route.”

Jace
nodded. “There is, but I don’t know where to find it. It has been too long
since I last visited these peaks, and I don’t remember.”

“I
think I can make the jump,” said Lannon, gazing upward. “Give me your
rope and hook, Lothrin.” The prospect of leaping up and over a deadly
divide made Lannon’s stomach churn, but he had no intention of giving up. His
focus was on rescuing Prince Vannas at all costs.

“We’re
all going to get struck by lightning,” said Dallsa, who was crouching by a
boulder. “This is too dangerous. We must turn back.”

“We
have to continue on,” said Aldreya.

Lannon
took the rope coil and hesitated, flooding his body with the Eye of Divinity
and focusing his mind. The others stood in silence, heads bowed, not wanting to
disrupt his focus. He waited for the lightning to flash, and then he raced
forward and leapt high into the air. It was a magnificent leap, but he failed
miserably to reach his lofty target—instead using his sorcery to raise him up
the rest of the way to the path. He lay on the ground exhausted for a moment, a
colossal amount of energy expended to levitate himself.

He
fastened the hook to a thick black root (a dead root that looked to be from a
Goblin-spawning Mother Tree) and then tossed the rope down to Lothrin. Without
hesitation, the Ranger climbed up to the higher path. One by one the others
climbed up, with Dallsa having the most trouble. The healer was not skilled at
climbing, but Lannon seized her with his power and helped her along. By the
time she reached the higher ground, Lannon was so exhausted he had to rest for
several minutes before they could resume their journey. Using the Eye to move
objects took a severe toll on him lately, as his power had become more focused
around swordplay, strength, and quick, athletic movements (the typical style of
a Dark Watchman).

As
they slowly worked their way along the narrow path, lightning struck perilously
close to them, causing Lannon to shove the entire group backward on
instinct—and nearly causing Dallsa to stumble off the ledge to her doom. Jace
seized the healer in one huge hand before she could fall.

Lannon
groaned in weariness. “Couldn’t there be an easier route?”

When
they came to a shallow cave in the mountainside, Aldreya ordered them to halt.
“We shall rest here and wait for the lightning to calm down. It’s simply
too dangerous to continue on right now.”

“So
now we decide to wait,” said Dallsa, shaking her head in amusement.
“What brought on that decision?”

“That
last lightning blast was a bit too close,” said Aldreya. “I’m certain
I could feel the heat from it, and I’m surprised my hair isn’t sticking
up.” She touched her curly silver hair that hung in wet tangles. Her
youthful face had gone a bit pale. “I know every second counts, but if we
get struck by lightning we won’t have any chance of rescuing Prince Vannas
anyway.”

“I
have to agree,” said Jerret. “I thought we were finished right then
and there. Death by lightning is a sad way for a warrior to go.”

“I’ve
been struck by lightning before,” said Jace, shrugging. “It
tingles.”

“Were
you injured?” asked Aldreya.

Jace
didn’t answer, his grey eyes distant.

“Were
you injured?” she asked again, louder.

“What?”
he replied. “Oh, not really. Just burned somewhat, from head to toe. I
lost an eye too, come to think of it.”

“You
lost an eye?” said Lannon.

Jace
nodded. “It popped out of my head and was hanging by a thread. I pushed it
back in with a spoon, though. Good as new.” The sorcerer nodded.
“That’s right, my friends. If your eye ever pops out, a spoon really comes
in handy. That’s why I always carry one with me—ever since that
incident.” He felt around in his cloak pocket and took out a wooden spoon.
He grinned. “The very spoon I once used to fix my eye. It also comes in
handy for soup.”

The
others had no idea what to make of that story.

Lannon
felt restless, wondering how Galvia was faring. “I hope they don’t have
any trouble back at camp,” he said. “Especially with Taith there. I
wouldn’t want anything to happen to the boy.”

“They
will be fine,” said Jerret, with a dismissive wave. “Galvia will take
care of him. Trust me, Lannon, our camp is well defended.”

“Of
course,” said Lannon, but he remained plagued by a gnawing feeling in his
stomach. He wanted to hurry and rescue the prince so they could return to camp.
Yet they were stuck in a cave until the lightning slacked off.

***

“Surely
you must be in terrible pain,” the Lawkeeper said to Galvia. “And
trust me—it can get much worse. Do you have anything to say?”

Galvia
didn’t answer. She was aware that the pressure had increased considerably, but
still her body held. The Thallite Giant gazed down at her and frowned, his hand
pausing on the crank.

“Leave
her be, you coward!” Garaloth shouted.

“Silence,
or I will gag you,” the Lawkeeper said. He motioned to the giant.
“Double your efforts. Whatever happens, happens.”

The
giant licked his lips, eager to cause damage. He turned the crank some
more—until it seemed the chains might rip apart—and still Galvia’s body held.
His eyes wide, the giant looked to the Lawkeeper.

“She
is like iron,” said the Thallite, in a booming voice that was louder than
the storm. “This torture won’t work on her. If I apply greater pressure,
she will likely be ripped apart. And so I await your orders.”

“Last
chance to talk,” the Lawkeeper said to Galvia.

The
others bowed their heads, their faces pale.

Galvia
heard his words, but she had no intention of responding. Her focus was
extreme—beyond anything she had ever accomplished before. Her skill of Fire
warmed her body, flooding her limbs with massive strength and endurance, as she
prepared for the next phase of the torment.