Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) (7 page)

“I
think I deserve to know,” said Lannon, “considering I came up here
once again to try to open this wretched safe.”

“Very
well,” said Vorden. “In battle, I get consumed with energy and
passion.
Consumed
, Lannon. It’s impossible for me to hold back, and my
blade burns too hot. That’s really all there is to it.”

“So
you lack control,” said Lannon.

Vorden
nodded. “I’m not a Dark Watchman like you. I don’t have precise control of
my emotions in combat. I fight more like a Grey Dwarf, I suppose. There is a
lot of anger inside me, if you didn’t notice. Sometimes I also go berserk and
lose myself to it—just like an Olrog.”

“Maybe
you could learn control,” said Lannon. “Ever thought of that?”
He truly had no desire to pit himself against the wheel lock again. He was
weary to the core of being defeated by it. And he felt Vorden was exaggerating
about his lack of control. Vorden had a strong, rational mind. He was not a
raging barbarian like Jerret Dragonsbane.

“I’ve
tried,” said Vorden. “It just isn’t how I fight.”

“I
don’t believe it,” said Lannon. “I think you just want a better sword
so you can wield more power. That’s what I think.”

Vorden
scowled. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“Of
course not,” said Lannon, backing away from a confrontation with his
friend. “But I think deep inside that’s what this is about.”

Vorden
hesitated, then shrugged. “Believe what you want, Lannon. But even if that
were true, it is a perfectly valid reason considering the dangers we face as
Knights of Ollanhar. Now are you going to open it or not?”

Lannon
seized the wheel lock in frustration. He steadied his mind, determined that he
would not fail again. He wanted desperately to prove Vorden right for believing
in him, but the wheel lock was a mighty barrier. It had been designed to
prevent anyone but an elite Dark Watchman from opening it, and Lannon wasn’t on
that level yet. He knew it in his heart, but that didn’t necessarily mean he
couldn’t succeed. How talented was he? There was no good way to measure it. The
Dark Watchmen were long dead, their strengths and weaknesses only revealed
vaguely in books.

Using
the Eye of Divinity, Lannon peered into the safe. Six spectacular swords
greeted his vision—swords made of Glaetherin and charged with sorcery. These
were some of the mightiest blades ever forged. But the other items in there
caught his interest even more—a large silver chalice inscribed with the words
The
Essence Cup,
a scroll that showed the location of six hidden chambers in
the tower (only one of which Lannon had explored), a book about the affairs of
the Dark Watchmen and Silverland, a detailed map of the portals to Tharnin that
existed in Silverland, and another book that was very thick and titled
Shadows
of Ollanhar.
This book
held the deepest secrets of the Dark
Watchmen—a book that Lannon could have easily read from where he stood.
Lannon, however, had been warned by Taris not to read the book until he was
able to open the safe. Taris believed the book would only tell him lies—until
it rested within Lannon’s hands.

The
safe was the ultimate test of Lannon’s power. Until he could unlock it, he was
not ready for the knowledge contained within. He didn’t deserve it. As the last
of the Dark Watchmen, the items belonged to him. The very walls of Ollanhar
were waiting in breathless silence for Lannon to claim those items and prove
that he was, beyond a doubt, the High Watchman.

Lannon
drove the Eye of Divinity into the wheel lock, demanding it open. He made three
mighty attempts—but each time the wheel finished spinning, no click could be
heard.

At
last, Lannon bowed his head in defeat. “I’m sorry, Vorden. I’m just not
ready yet. Maybe I never will be.”

“You
surrender too easily,” said Vorden.

“Not
true,” said Lannon, feeling a spark of anger. “I gave everything I
had. It just wasn’t quite enough. I want this safe opened more than you do. I
dream about it almost every night. But I need to develop my skills a bit more.
Maybe this journey will help me reach a new level.”

Vorden
gazed at him in silence for a few moments, then nodded. “I understand,
Lannon. You did your best. Try again, after the journey.”

Lannon
felt sorry for his friend. Vorden had to face the perilous quest with a weak
blade. But maybe there was still hope. One of the treasures within the safe was
accessible to him—the scroll that revealed that hidden chambers in Ollanhar.
In the one chamber Lannon had explored, he had found his extraordinary
Glaetherin throwing star. It seemed likely that other treasures could be found.

Vorden
started toward the rope, but Lannon grabbed his arm. “Wait a moment. How
would you like to explore a hidden chamber? It will likely be dangerous, but we
might find something useful.”

Vorden
hesitated, then said, “I’m guessing all the good swords are in this safe,
but…I suppose. I have nothing better to do right now.”

Lannon
read the scroll and selected a hidden chamber. Chills crept over his flesh.
This would be no easy task, and death could be the result.

***

The
secret chamber was located beneath the tower. Lannon and Vorden went downstairs
until they reached Ollanhar’s Entrance Chamber, which was an octagonal room
that contained soft rugs, comfortable chairs, and one large circular table. A
bookshelf filled with thick tomes stood against one wall, barrels of wine and
ale stood in the corners, and shelves held jars of tobacco and other luxury
items. This was where the Council of Ollanhar held meetings with outsiders, and
it also served as an office for Aldreya, with stacks of papers on the table and
locked safes on the shelves holding official documents.

At
the center of the Entrance Chamber was a heavy stone trapdoor with an iron ring
embedded in it. Their destination lay beneath that trapdoor.

“I’m
not allowed down there,” Vorden reminded Lannon, as the two warriors stood
gazing down at the trapdoor.

It
was true. The lowest level of Ollanhar was forbidden to anyone except Lannon
due to the immense danger of the ghosts of the Dark Watchmen that lurked below.
They would kill anyone other than the High Watchman.

“I’m
making an exception,” said Lannon. “Just stay away from the ancient
door down there, and you’ll be okay. I must warn you, though, that you will
experience some intense feelings as the shades seek to frighten you away. They
are extremely powerful entities.”

“I
can handle that,” said Vorden. “I’m used to the Deep Shadow, remember?
I know all of its tricks. I’ve used them myself.”

It
was a chilling statement. Indeed, Vorden had once been a Black Knight of
Tharnin and the commander of the Blood Legion. Lannon sometimes forgot that
Vorden had been consumed by darkness. Lannon in fact wanted to forget, but
Vorden always seemed to remind him.

“Steady
your mind,” said Lannon. He lifted the trapdoor, and they headed down some
stone steps into darkness. Whispers of doom filled their minds, warning them
away. When the ghosts realized it was Lannon, they withdrew from him—but
Vorden’s presence caused them great agitation.

Vorden
raised his hand as if to shield his face. “Ugh! They’re swarming on me
like bats!” The shadows had left the ancient door that stood at the base
of the stairs and had surrounded Vorden.

“Leave
us!” Lannon commanded, waving his torch at the ghosts. “We have
business here that does not involve you.”

Reluctantly,
the shades withdrew back into the door. They would obey the High Watchman—as
long as they felt he was making war on the Deep Shadow. Yet they didn’t fully
trust Lannon and perhaps never would.

“Wretched
ghosts,” Vorden muttered, his face pale. He wiped sweat from his brow.
“I actually wasn’t expecting that. It was amazingly intense.”

“I
told you they were powerful,” said Lannon. “What did you expect from
the ghosts of Dark Watchmen?”

They
quickly exited the stairs just in front of the thick oaken door bound in iron.
For a moment, Vorden’s gaze lingered on the door, above which hung a gleaming
battle axe. He seemed lost, his eyes fixed on the dark spaces between the moldy
planks.

“It’s
an illusion,” said Lannon. “Resist it.”

But
then Vorden’s gaze rose to the battle axe. He pointed at it, his yellow eyes
shining with excitement. “But that axe is real, Lannon! I sense great
power within it!” He started forward.

Lannon
yanked Vorden away from the door. “Forget you ever saw it. The shades
would destroy you if you tried to claim that weapon. They use that axe to guard
this portal to Tharnin, to make sure no human or beast passes through.”

“Sorry,”
Vorden mumbled. “I lost myself for a moment.”

“Never
come down here without me,” Lannon warned, fearing Vorden might return
later and try to retrieve the axe. “You would only find your doom.”

“I’m
not stupid,” Vorden muttered.

They
stood before a lumpy stone wall that was barren except for a rusted iron torch
holder and a circle of runes. Lannon probed the wall with the Eye and found a
powerful illusion in front of him that was generated by the runes. A section of
the wall was actually missing, yet Lannon could reach out and touch the stone
that wasn’t there, feeling every bump and pit.

“Amazing,”
he said. “It looks and feels totally real, but it isn’t. We can walk right
through this wall.” He probed beyond it and found a passageway that led to
an iron door that radiated dark sorcery.

With
that, Lannon stepped into the passageway.

Vorden
watched as Lannon seemingly disappeared into solid stone, his face bearing a
startled expression.

“Come
on in,” said Lannon.

Vorden
stepped forward and bumped the wall with his armored chest. Looking greatly
confused, he beat on the stone with his fist. “It’s totally solid, Lannon.
Are you sure this is an illusion?”

“Of
course,” said Lannon. “A very potent one. But you saw me go through.
Now all you have to do is make yourself believe.”

Vorden
closed his eyes and focused, and with his Knightly training and mastery of
sorcery, he was able to join Lannon in the passageway. “That was easy
enough,” he said, as he stepped inside.

“Yes,
that was the simple part,” said Lannon. He pointed at the iron door that
was just barely revealed in the torchlight. “That door, however, is the
real barrier, and I assure you this one won’t be easy.”

The
door was dreadful—a monstrous construction of iron and dark sorcery that had
guarded the passageway for centuries. It was a large circular wheel, covered in
smaller wheels, amidst which protruded a demonic face. The face was that of a
mighty Barloak Demon of Tharnin, with a bull-like head bearing six horns and an
open mouth filled with curved fangs. Eyes of blue crystal gazed at them. Those
eyes were currently lifeless, but Lannon could sense the powerful energy within
waiting to be awakened.

A
real demon lurked inside the iron door, endlessly patient yet always hungry for
victims. Scattered throughout the passageway were the bones of the dead—those
who had survived the shades and had sought the treasures that lay beyond this
door. They had gambled against the demon and lost.

Lannon
scanned the passageway and found other traps—yet they had all been sprung or
deactivated. All that remained now was the demon.

“Well,
this looks rather dangerous,” said Vorden.

Lannon
nodded. “Maybe
too
dangerous. Is it really worth it just to explore
a hidden chamber?”

Vorden
shrugged. “It’s your decision, Lannon.”

Lannon
was eager to find out what lay beyond the door, but he didn’t want to put
Vorden in danger. “You should wait here until I disable the door.”

“Nope,”
said Vorden. “If you go, I go.”

“Then
stay behind me,” said Lannon. “I can shield us both.”

They
started forward, Lannon using the Eye to protect himself and Vorden trailing
along. As they approached the iron door, the large wheel and the smaller ones
began to rotate. A howl like the moaning of the wind arose, and then a hiss as
steam poured from the demon’s nostrils. Lannon gazed at the demon head with
shock and disgust. Everywhere there were turning, squirming motions, as
countless wheels and gears clicked and rotated and tumbled here and there into
and out of slots. It was as if the iron structure was truly alive, made of
hundreds of moving parts that channeled dark sorcery and magnified its
power—all with the intent of slaying intruders. No sorcerer, however mighty,
was meant to pass this barrier.

The
demon’s crystal eyes glowed with a frosty blue light, freezing Lannon’s soul.
The steam from the nostrils clouded his vision, until only those twin lights
could be seen before him. Then a blast like blue lightning shot forth and
struck him, knocking him backwards into Vorden, who toppled over.

Lannon
turned and reached down to help Vorden up, when another blast struck him from
behind. This one was more powerful than he had anticipated, and he pitched
forward onto the floor.