Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) (4 page)

But on this night, beneath the sprawling trees, it was
death that Lannon feared most, for it seemed like a very real possibility, as the
Eye continued to glimpse traces of evil sorcery. Lannon sensed he was being
stalked—that some grim confrontation was soon to take place—and he wasn’t
confident he was strong enough to survive. This human or beast was using the
dark sorcery to hide from the Eye, scattering it along the trail like a fog of
confusion, and this foe didn’t care if Lannon knew of the ambush. Lannon could
sense an arrogance so deep it was startling.

Something moved in the shadows next to the trail, and the
Eye locked onto it—but it was only a black squirrel scurrying up a mossy oak.
Lannon breathed a sigh of relief, but it was only temporary relief, as the foe
was still stalking him. He turned this way and that, scanning with the Eye, but
he glimpsed nothing but the fog of sorcery that swirled around him. Yet the
feeling grew intense that his enemy was bearing down on him.

Then a deep, inhuman voice broke the still air:
 
“Lannon! Look upon me!” A ball of
yellow light suddenly sprang from the darkness and rose into the air, looking
like a small version of the moon. It hovered above the trail, just below where
the great branches closed together, and lit up the area beneath. Revealed in
that light was the dark rider on the Goblin steed who had led the battle
against Ollanhar. As before, his hooded cloak kept him concealed, and the Eye
could not expose his secrets. He held his huge battle axe in one hand.

“You again,” said Lannon, chills flooding over
him. “What do you want?” Now that the rider had him alone, Lannon was
certain there was going to be a fight to the death. He strove to steady his
mind in preparation.

 
The rider sat in
silence for a time, perhaps contemplating whether or not to simply attack. Then
at last he said, “You did well in battle earlier, as I knew you would. I
watched you from the shadows as you cut down my Goblins as if they were
nothing. Your power has grown so rapidly since you first arrived at Dremlock
Kingdom. You are now the most dangerous Knight of all, perhaps with the
exception of Taris Warhawk. You have become a worthy opponent, Lannon, and I
look forward to slaying you.”

“Who are you?” asked Lannon. “Why don’t you
just show your face and get it over with? If we’re going to fight, at least let
me know who I’m fighting. Is that too much to ask?”

“No, it isn’t,” said the rider. He threw back his
hood to reveal a grim, black-bearded face with fierce (insane) eyes that
gleamed with a violate hue. “Well, do you recognize me? Look into my eyes
and you will glimpse the truth.”

“Tenneth Bard!” Lannon was barely aware he had
spoken. He was chilled to the bone at the realization. The insane eyes told
Lannon all he needed to know—this was Tenneth Bard, the ancient Black Knight
and sworn enemy of Dremlock. His appearance had changed immensely, however,
from the phantom-like mass of shifting shadows that had haunted Lannon during
previous encounters. He now looked quite human, except for his gleaming eyes.

The rider nodded. “Yes, you do recognize me. I see it
in your gaze. I have returned at last from the smothering embrace of the Deep
Shadow. My humanity has been restored. It was a long and perilous struggle to
achieve this—a struggle that you cannot even imagine—but it has been worth
it. To ride the land once again…to smell the scent of tree and earth and taste
the meat of a fresh kill…” He breathed deeply for a moment, shaking his
head. “The wonders of life…”

Lannon found his voice again. “If you are indeed
Tenneth Bard, then what do you want? My fight is with Bellis now.”

“No!” Tenneth Bard snarled, clenching his hand
into a fist. “Your fight is still with
me!
” His Goblin horse
snorted in response, its yellow eyes burning with hatred for Lannon. “I
came very close to destroying both you and Dremlock Kingdom. When my plans
failed, I had to form an alliance with King Verlamer, a man I despise. But I
have other goals that Verlamer is not aware of. I seek to make the Blood Legion
mighty once again, and there is something else I desire—the Hand of Tharnin. I
believe I am strong enough to control it. Once it is in my possession, I will
no longer have to answer to Verlamer or anyone else. I will then take revenge
on all those who have wronged me.”

Lannon sighed. “Becoming human hasn’t made you any
wiser. No one can control the Hand of Tharnin. And to live for revenge is an
empty life. Tenneth Bard or not, you are pathetic.”

The rider smiled. “I’m pathetic. Is that so? Yet over
the centuries, I’ve simply grown more powerful. Kingdoms rise and fall, but I
have benefited immensely from everything I do. I enjoy my life far more than
you could imagine. I have a noble purpose—to bring a new order to the land. I
have happiness and a purpose. What more could one ask for? What do
you
have?”

Lannon considered the question, then replied, “I have
a purpose too—ridding the land of the Deep Shadow forever and creating
peace.”

“Very well,” said Tenneth Bard. “But your
purpose conflicts with mine. Therefore, you must die.” He tossed aside his
huge battle axe and swung down from his horse. He threw off his cloak.
Underneath was magnificent black and silver armor, and a pair of curved swords
hung from his belt. The Eye revealed that the armor and the swords were made of
invincible Glaetherin.

He smiled at Lannon and then drew the swords, twirling them
briefly in his hands. They flashed like lightning in the light of the yellow
orb that still hung in the air above. This display of skill finished, he
lowered his weapons, gazing at Lannon smugly. “Make your move, High
Watchman.”

Lannon could now sense the mighty skills that Tenneth Bard
possessed. The Black Knight didn’t fear anyone or anything. He regarded Lannon
as drastically inferior. He fully expected Lannon to die there in the trail.

Tenneth Bard yawned. “So it has come to this. You once
sent my shattered body hurtling from a cliff. Remember that? Where is that
power now? You cannot access it. You’re no longer filled with wild sorcery, but
have learned to channel your power through your blade. You have grown more
deadly in many ways, but you have lost your unpredictability. I feared you more
as you used to be—when the Eye of Divinity was formless within you and ready
to adapt to anything. Now you’re just another swordsman, bound to live and die
by your techniques.”

“You’ve changed as well,” said Lannon.
“You’re flesh and blood now—which means you can die.” He wasn’t sure
if he spoke true, but he wanted to see how the Black Knight would react to his
statement.

Tenneth Bard nodded. “Yes, I can die. I had to
surrender my immortality to be free of Tharnin’s chains. I’m as human as you
are, Lannon. I chose freedom over slavery, even knowing it could mean the death
of me. But don’t think killing me will be easy. My sorcery is stronger than
ever, and my skills with the blade go far beyond that of any Knight—as you
will soon see for yourself.”

Lannon was flooded with weariness. “So what is your
plan? To rule everything like King Verlamer?” All of these tyrants just
seemed to want power over others—the power to make people miserable.

Tenneth Bard smirked. “I’m not that petty, Lannon.
I’ve never wanted to rule the world. I have a different goal. To keep my
humanity, I have to do something in return for the Deep Shadow. I have to open
the way for Tharnin so that it can lay claim to this land. That means
destroying Ollanhar and Dremlock Kingdom and opening all of the portals,
including the one below your tower.”

Lannon nodded. “So you are still a slave of Tharnin
with the same old goal. So much for your talk of freedom.”

“You are wrong,” said Tenneth Bard. “I no
longer have to obey the laws of Tharnin. I just have to honor my bargain.
Otherwise, I am free to roam and live as I choose—to restore the Blood Legion
to prominence once again. I don’t even hate you as much as I used to. At one
time, I was nothing but a mass of squirming hatred. I grew ever more enraged
with every humiliating defeat. You and your friends wounded me deeply below
Dremlock—a very painful wound that would have killed a lesser sorcerer, but I
was unable to perish from it and instead suffered for weeks afterward. I
watched my Great Dragon fall from the sky and burn in White Fire and my Blood
Legion made nearly extinct.”

“Dremlock stood firm against you,” Lannon said,
his voice filled with pride. “All of your evil schemes were ruined.”

“Not all of them,” said Tenneth Bard, looking amused.
“I’m still here, and I still have plans. So as I was saying—I don’t even
hate you like I once did. You’re simply in my way and must be dealt with. Given
time, the evil would take you anyway, Lannon. I’m about to spare you from that
fate.”

Lannon had no response. There was a chance Tenneth Bard was
correct—that Lannon would fall to the charms of the Deep Shadow as his
predecessors had. Some believed it was inevitable.

“You know I speak true,” said Tenneth Bard.
“When my blade pierces your heart, you will be free—and your reputation
will be forever intact. You will be remembered as a good man who never
surrendered to evil. Isn’t that what you want? If you keep on living, you will
destroy all you have worked to obtain. For you, Lannon Sunshield, death is the
only answer. Trust me on this. I know all about freedom, now that I am truly
free. Give yourself to my swords, painless and swift.”

Lannon was struck hard by Tenneth Bard’s words, but then he
remembered that the Divine Essence had chosen him for this role. Lannon’s
god—the god that dwelt below Dremlock—wanted him to live. It believed in him,
and he could not take the easy way out. Honor and duty demanded that he fight
on to his last breath. It was a grave risk to himself and everyone else, but the
only noble thing to do was stay alive and hope he somehow could stand against
the darkness that sought to consume him. And it was simply not Lannon’s way to
admit defeat.

“Your words are filled with sorcery,” said
Lannon, raising his blade, “that tricks the mind and will. But you cannot
influence me so easily. If you want to kill me, you’ll have to get past my
sword.”

Tenneth Bard shook his head in disbelief. “I should
have known. You’re as stubborn as a Birlote, Lannon. You’ve baffled me since
the first day I met you. You’re very frustrating to deal with, and I can’t wait
to see you dead.”

“Here I stand,” said Lannon, focusing the Eye
into his blade. “Do what you must.” At least if Tenneth Bard
prevailed, Lannon would die with honor. He didn’t want to die, but he could
accept that fate.

Tenneth Bard shrugged. “We will do this the hard way,
then.” He leapt forward gracefully, his blades flashing toward
Lannon—moving with blinding speed. Tenneth Bard was like a whirlwind of
razor-sharp metal slicing the air, and several of his sword strokes came
perilously close to Lannon’s flesh.

Lannon blocked several strokes, but defending against two
swords was difficult. Tenneth Bard had an unfair advantage, and the Black
Knight seemed just as fast as Lannon. But it wasn’t the swordplay that Lannon
feared most—it was Tenneth Bard’s sorcery, which was still mostly unknown to
Lannon.

After clashing for a few moments, they backed away from
each other, panting. Lannon had never before faced such a swift and skilled
swordsman. Lannon felt he was lucky to still be alive.

“I propose we make this a fair fight,” said
Tenneth Bard. “Just swords, no sorcery. In other words, no fireballs, no
grabbing with unseen hands—just whatever we can do with our bodies and blades.
Are you game?”

Lannon hesitated, not sure if he could win in a battle of
swords. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he could win in a battle of sorcery,
either. But he guessed that Tenneth Bard was just as uncertain. After all, the
Eye of Divinity was very mysterious. Even Lannon didn’t understand it half the
time.

“I accept,” Lannon finally said, deciding his
chances were slightly better in a sword duel. Immediately after agreeing, he
found himself doubting it had been a wise move. After all, Tenneth Bard had
requested it for a reason, and the Black Knight was obviously extremely
confident he could defeat Lannon at swordplay.

Their swords collided, and Tenneth Bard drove Lannon back,
kicking his feet out from under him. With a cry of victory, the Black Knight
tried to stab Lannon into the dirt, but Lannon rolled aside and the twin blades
found only the trail. With a colossal effort, Lannon managed to rise from the
ground, while blocking several attacks, and regain his balance.

They backed away from each other again and paused for
breath. Again, Lannon realized how lucky he was to still be breathing. He knew
he had to make a risky move soon, or he was going to die.

“Nearly had you, boy,” Tenneth Bard muttered.
“Next time you go down, you won’t be getting up.”

They clashed again, and this time Lannon flooded the Eye
into his body in a move he knew might cost him everything. He sought to
increase his raw speed at the expense of his skills, to become so swift that
Tenneth Bard could only hope to defend Lannon’s attacks while being unable to
launch any of his own. The move worked surprisingly well, as Lannon’s sudden
swiftness caught the Black Knight off guard and put him squarely on the
defense.

With the power of the Eye surging through him, Lannon drove
Tenneth Bard backwards until the Black Knight was against a tree. Sensing
victory, Lannon hacked furiously at his foe’s exposed neck, leaving Tenneth
Bard barely able to keep deflecting the blows. The Black Knight focused
entirely on shielding himself with his blades, and he finally dropped to his
knees, begging for mercy as Lannon continued to hammer at him.

Tenneth Bard’s pleas fell on deaf ears for a moment—as
Lannon was too focused on finishing him off to notice. Then Lannon paused, his
sword poised for a downward stroke. “Do you surrender, then?”