Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) (9 page)

The
Lawkeeper raised an eyebrow as he gazed at her. “You are a strange one. If
you have nothing important to say, perhaps you can keep quiet.” He turned
his gaze toward Lannon. “I see you lack proper servants as well—and a
proper scribe.”

Lannon
shrugged. “We do what we can here.” He didn’t bother to explain that
Ollanhar’s servants were currently busy in town or that Dallsa often volunteered
to perform duties such as cooking, delivering messages, record keeping, or
serving drinks when she wasn’t required to do so.
 

The
Lawkeeper ran his fingers through his spiked hair, looking dismayed.
“Perhaps King Verlamer has overestimated Ollanhar, in which case I am
utterly wasting my time. Nevertheless, we shall proceed.” He removed a
scroll from his satchel and opened it for Lannon to see. “Do you recognize
this?”

Lannon nodded. “It’s the agreement I signed concerning
my duel with King Verlamer. I have my own copy.” He read it again anyway:

Honorable
Duel

Participants:
 
Verlamer the Just (King of Bellis) and
Lannon Sunshield (Divine Knight of Dremlock and famed Dark Watchman).

Location:
The North Tower Courtyard, Dremlock Kingdom.

Time
and date:
 
Noon, 1219, Year of the Hawk

Until
death, submission, or inability to rise.

Rewards:

King
Verlamer’s life and Lannon Sunshield’s goods and, if slain, his remains.

The
liberation of Lannon Sunshield’s Kingdom of Dremlock, including the return of all
seized items, for an indefinite time period (provided that Dremlock not
interfere with the affairs of Bellis).

Signed…
Verlamer the Just

Signed… Lannon Sunshield

“Does Dremlock honor this agreement?” asked the
Lawkeeper. “A simple question that demands a simple answer. Yes, or
no?”

“Yes,” said Lannon.

“Yes,” said Aldreya.

“Indeed.” The Lawkeeper looked amused. “Then
why is Dremlock seeking to expand into territories owned by Bellis?”

“I wasn’t aware,” said Aldreya, “that Bellis
owned any land in this region. Ollanhar Tower has always belonged to
Dremlock.”

“King Verlamer disputes that,” said the
Lawkeeper. He opened one his thick books and proceeded to read a few complex
passages regarding kingdom law that Lannon didn’t understand. He jammed his
finger against the page periodically as he read, as if pointing out some fact
that could not be disputed.

Aldreya listened carefully but said nothing.

“Sounds like a bunch of sly statements,” Jerret
muttered, “designed to support Verlamer’s tyranny. “Why should
Ollanhar care what your book says, Lawkeeper? We don’t follow Bellis’
rules.”

The Lawkeeper snapped the book shut and slammed it down.
“These laws are ancient and have proven themselves sound again and again
throughout the ages. But I wouldn’t expect a common warrior to understand that.
I would, however, expect someone to understand it who holds the title of High
Watchman—or a Birlote from the Royal Family of Borenthia.”

“I understand it well enough,” said Aldreya.
“There is some truth there—but it has been twisted in favor of your
kingdom, either deliberately or by careless misinterpretation.”

“That’s
your
opinion, Green Knight,” said
the Lawkeeper. “Others throughout Gallamerth do not share that view.”

“Because they’re enslaved,” said Jerret.

The Lawkeeper scowled. “Hardly. They have never been
more liberated. Regardless, I have done my best to convince you—in the
clearest manner possible.” He rested his hand on the book and sighed.

“But what does it mean?” asked Lannon, yawning.
“In simple terms.” Lannon knew very little about the laws of the
land. His recent official appointment as High Watchman had come as a surprise.
In fact, such topics bored him deeply. But he didn’t want to appear lazy or
disinterested to this arrogant Lawkeeper.

The Lawkeeper raised a silver eyebrow, apparently surprised
at Lannon’s lack of comprehension. “Simply that King Verlamer rightfully
interprets this agreement to mean that Dremlock must stay on its mountain and
stay out of Bellis’ affairs. By occupying this tower, you have invaded land
claimed by Bellis. Therefore, you are interfering with our affairs. Thus, the
expansion is not legal.”

Jerret laughed, and raised a mug of ale. “Your king
interprets things however he wants, to serve his own goals. I wondered how long
it would take before Verlamer started complaining that we had violated the
treaty.”

“He has every right to complain, barbarian,” said
the Lawkeeper. “In fact, he has every right to make war on your little
kingdoms—both Ollanhar
and
Dremlock. It is only by his amazing
generosity and love of peace that he currently refrains from doing so—in hope
of a better solution.”

“Love of peace?” Jerret grinned. “He doesn’t
love peace anymore than I do. He lives to conquer. Are you speaking in
jest?”

“Perhaps you’ve had too much ale, barbarian,”
said the Lawkeeper. “Peace is what King Verlamer lives for. His goal is to
stop all of the wars that rage across Gallamerth, to make it one unified
kingdom. Dremlock is seeking to disrupt that goal, and that is why I have come
here—to insist that you stop this illegal expansion, abandon this tower, and
return to your mountain. If you do so, you will be given more freedom to trade
with the cities of Silverland. It will work to your advantage. Otherwise, I’m
afraid another war is inevitable, and all of you know how the last one turned
out for Dremlock.”

“That is not our decision,” said Aldreya.

“It doesn’t matter,” said the Lawkeeper.
“You will report this to Dremlock, and Taris Warhawk and his High Council
can decide.”

“Then why didn’t you go directly to Dremlock?”
asked Lannon.

“Because I am assigned to another task,” said the
Lawkeeper. “King Verlamer has requested that I place you under
observation, Sunshield. So henceforth, I will be watching you and reporting
what I observe.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Lannon. “The
agreement never allowed for that. You are forbidden to remain at
Ollanhar.”

“Is it worth starting a war over?” asked the
Lawkeeper.

“You cannot threaten us with that,” said Aldreya.
“Dremlock does not yield to the demands of a tyrant. If you go to war,
then
you
break the treaty—and I assure you the Birlotes and Olrogs will
be most displeased. Such agreements are considered sacred throughout
Gallamerth.”

“You have been living a lie,” said the Lawkeeper.
“Believing in nonsense. The Birlotes and Olrogs will do nothing.
Dremlock’s only hope is to withdraw from Ollanhar immediately and sign a new
treaty stating that it will never seek to expand again. It’s as simple as that,
and peace will result.”

“We have your message,” said Lannon. “We
will deliver it to Dremlock, and the High Council will decide. Is there
anything else?”

The Lawkeeper produced a leather pouch and laid it on the
table. He fixed his gaze on Lannon. “I understand that you have made
claims that King Verlamer stole from you. Is this true?”

Lannon nodded. “He took my Glaetherin throwing star.
It was an extremely rare and valuable item.”

The Lawkeeper opened the pouch and took out a gleaming star
blade. It looked exactly like the one Lannon used to own, but a quick scan with
the Eye of Divinity revealed it was a fake—a replica made of Thallite steel.

The Lawkeeper bore a smug look. “Our great king is no
thief, so you can cease your complaining and smearing his reputation. The star
blade was taken by accident.”

Lannon took the throwing star and weighed it in his hand.
It was roughly the same weight and the metal was quite durable—though
certainty not as strong as pure Glaetherin. “It’s not my blade, but I’ll
keep it anyway.”

The Lawkeeper looked appalled.
“Not your blade? But
you’ll keep it?”
He seemed speechless for a moment, his mouth hanging
open.

“Did you think Lannon wouldn’t know?” asked
Aldreya. “He bears the Eye of Divinity. A foolish effort on King
Verlamer’s part.”

The Lawkeeper shook his head. “Such disrespect and
arrogance! That is indeed your blade, Sunshield. I personally oversaw the
testing of the metal. Either your precious Eye is mistaken, or you are not
being truthful.”

“There is no mistake,” said Lannon. “My
throwing star rests in your king’s trophy collection, along with several other
valuable items from Dremlock.”

“Like Vorden’s sword,” said Jerret, with a laugh.

“We have returned your blade, Sunshield,” said
the Lawkeeper. “My scribe has witnessed and recorded the act. You can say
whatever you want, but be assured that Bellis will dispute your claims. You
will no longer be believed.”

Lannon knew a response was pointless.

“Is there anything further you would like to
discuss?” asked Aldreya.

“Not today,” said the Lawkeeper. “I’m a busy
man, and I like to keep my meetings brief. I should inform you, though, that I
fully intend to do my duty and place you under observation, Sunshield. I will
leave the tower but remain camped nearby. If you travel, I will travel with
you.”

“If you must,” said Lannon. “However, if you
intend to meet with me again, you should give notice in advance. Otherwise I
won’t be available.”

The Lawkeeper’s face turned crimson. “I’m going to
loosen my tongue a bit here and speak what’s on my mind.” He glared at his
scribe. “The meeting is officially ended.”

The scribe bowed and closed his record book.

The Lawkeeper again fixed his gaze on Lannon. “You’re
no High Watchman—just a weak puppet leader that should never have been
appointed. You’re probably in league with the Deep Shadow.”

“If the meeting is over,” said Lannon, “then
leave.” He fought down the rising anger. The Lawkeeper seemed to know how
to get to him.

“If you haven’t fallen to Tharnin,” the Lawkeeper
went on, “you will do so soon enough. Your kind always does. And that is
exactly why King Verlamer has placed you under observation. A Dark Watchman…
a
monster
…”

The words stung Lannon, but he remained passive.

Dallsa leapt up, pointing at the door. “Get out of
here before…” She was shaking with rage.

“Before
what?”
The Lawkeeper rose, and his
warriors pressed closer. “Do you want to start a war here and now?”

Jerret stood, knocking his chair over in the process, and
drew his sword, his muscles tense and bulging beneath his armor. “I
wouldn’t mind.”

Weapons were drawn or raised throughout the chamber.

Lannon remained seated, however. He rarely drew his blade
unless he intended to use it—and he was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.
Another war was the last thing he wanted, and at the moment, Ollanhar Tower was
without most of its fighters.

“Sit down, Dallsa and Jerret!” Aldreya commanded.
“That’s enough of this nonsense. This will be settled in a calm and
rational manner.”

Dallsa sat, her eyes smoldering, but Jerret didn’t move.

Aldreya gazed at him sternly. “Sheath your sword,
Jerret.”

Reluctantly, Jerret did as ordered.

Lannon folded his arms across his chest, appearing relaxed.
He forced a smile. “Have a pleasant day, Lawkeeper.”

For an instant, hatred flickered in the Lawkeeper’s green
eyes. Then he gathered his books, turned, and bellowed, “Make way!”
As his warriors parted, he strode from the chamber. The warriors followed,
until the last Thallite Giant had lumbered through the doorway.

Chapter
6:

The Festival of Souls

The following day was warm and cloudy, with a light
sprinkle of rain in the air. Everyone gathered in the tower courtyard around
noon at long, polished oak tables adorned with Birlote runes. Furlus and the
others had returned victorious, which added to the celebratory mood and made it
easier to forget the Lawkeeper’s visit. There was much food and drink to
indulge in, and a bard on loan from Dremlock played songs now and then, did
magic tricks, or read poetry. Orange Squires—servants who were never able to
obtain Knighthood—moved about the courtyard serving drinks and replacing empty
food platters with full ones.

The Council of Ollanhar sat at one of the tables apart from
the others, in wide chairs adorned with the mischievous faces of woodland
creatures from the Birlote Tree City of Borenthia, discussing the implications
of the Lawkeeper’s words. It was a pleasant day, the breeze fresh and the
courtyard green and lush around them in the shadow of the mighty, vine-laden
tower that rose into the grey sky above them. The sprinkle of rain carried on
the breeze helped keep them cool.

Vorden was doing remarkably better. In fact, he seemed
almost fully healed as he indulged in beef and potatoes and sipped at a goblet
of wine, showing no hint of pain and the color having returned to his skin. He
seemed cheerful and full of vigor—with only his yellow eyes serving as a
reminder that he would never be completely normal. Dallsa was not happy with
his decision to leave his bedchamber, but she had to grudgingly admit that most
of his strength had returned.

 
It was hard not to
feel good on this fine day. Furlus Goblincrusher, however, did not seem to be
in a festive mood. He sat quietly for a time, gazing sullenly at his mug of
ale. At last he muttered, “I sent a Hawk. But it won’t make any
difference. We will continue our expansion even at the risk of war.”

No one really wanted to discuss such grim topics. They
wanted to eat, drink, smoke pipes and celebrate the Festival of Souls that
would honor all Divine Knights who had died in service of their god. But duty
could not be ignored.

“What about our forthcoming journey?” asked
Lannon. “In light of this development, should the White Flamestone still
go with us? With Bellis threatening war, taking it out of Silverland would seem
like pure folly.”

“I agree,” said Aldreya.

Jace dropped his oversized spoon in bowl of stew with a
splash. He was so agitated he accidentally leaned on his bread and smeared
butter on his cloak sleeve. “What? Of course it is still going with us! It
must!” He paused for a moment, wringing his huge, bony hands together,
allowing himself a moment to calm down. “I assure you we
will
be
confronting Bellis on the journey. King Verlamer will seek to make us disappear
at land or sea, so that even our bodies will never be found. Without the White
Flamestone, how would we survive?”

“Yet how can Dremlock survive?” asked Aldreya,
handing Jace a towel, “if Bellis goes to war and we have no Flamestone to
defend the kingdom? Our survival is not as important as that of our god and
kingdom.”

“Perhaps,” said Jace. “But remember—there
is another Flamestone out there, and we must obtain it before Bellis does.
Could you imagine the devastation that would result if King Verlamer gained
possession of it? Any lingering hope of preventing Bellis from taking all of
Gallamerth and the lands beyond the sea would be crushed. It could mean victory
for the Deep Shadow as well.”

Lannon couldn’t deny that Jace’s argument was compelling.

“King Verlamer has sought that Flamestone
before,” said Aldreya. “And he has failed to obtain it. It may be
impossible to remove it from the island. There is something dreadfully dark and
dangerous out there. It haunts my dreams. We know very little about it. But war
is a reality we have already faced. Without the White Flamestone for
protection, Dremlock fell and many Knights perished. It was only because of
Verlamer’s madness and stupidity in challenging Lannon to a duel that Dremlock
is liberated today. He will not make that mistake twice. I am certain that if
Dremlock falls to Bellis again, it will truly be the end for us.”

“Yet nothing has changed,” said Furlus. “We
knew that Bellis was unhappy with the expansion before this Lawkeeper arrived.
This is just another attempt to scare us into retreating. It is very unlikely
that Bellis will publicly break the agreement and make war on us. Instead,
they’ll continue to use the Goblins and the Blood Legion to try to drive us out
of Ollanhar. But as I said, I sent a Hawk and look forward to hearing what our
Lord Knight has to say on the matter. Perhaps he will insist the White
Flamestone remain here.”

“I hope not,” said Prince Vannas, with a sigh.
“I was really looking forward to this adventure.” The handsome
Birlote leaned back in his chair, puffing at a pipe. He had been unusually
quiet lately, allowing Aldreya and Lannon to make the decisions. He blew a
perfect smoke ring that almost tickled Jace’s long nose.

Lothrin sat next to the prince and also hadn’t spoken much
lately—though that was not unusual for Lothrin. The lean warrior often kept to
himself (when he wasn’t arguing with his cousin Vannas) and spent many hours
wandering alone. He was still a Ranger at heart, favoring wild, uninhabited
lands and solitude. Yet Lothrin was a wise man whose opinion was as valued as
that of his royal cousins.

“I, too, long for adventure,” said Lothrin.
“But as much as it pains me to say it, our petty desires hold no weight.
This is about the future of Dremlock and Gallamerth—a future which lies in
great peril.”

“Of course,” said Vannas, looking slightly
annoyed. “As always, I will do whatever is best for our kingdom.

The bard approached their table, grinning, his
white-and-purple clothing shimmering as he bowed. His black hair hung in
flamboyant curls from beneath his wide hat. He raised his flute to begin a
song, but Aldreya dismissed him with a motion of her hand. With another quick
bow, he hurried away.

A large golden butterfly with blue swirls on its wings
landed on the rim of Lannon’s silver goblet. Lannon watched it in amusement
until Furlus leaned over with a scowl and blew a puff of air on it, sending it
into flight. The confused butterfly then landed in Furlus’ bushy beard. The
Grey Dwarf plucked it out and tossed it into the air, where it flew off.

“What is best for this kingdom,” Furlus muttered,
“is for us to go and retrieve that Flamestone. Then, with two Flamestones
at our command, Bellis will truly fear us. I am certain Taris will agree with
me. The Flamestones are the greatest weapons in all the land, greater even than
anything the Olrogs or Thallites could invent. They belong to the Divine
Essence—our god, whose word is law—and thus they belong to Dremlock. We have
every right to lay claim to them.”

“Say no more,” said Prince Vannas, smiling.
“I will be happy to use the power of the White Flamestone to defeat any
enemies who seek to interfere with our quest. And I will attempt to use that
same power as a guide.”

“How?” asked Aldreya, looking puzzled.

“All of the Flamestones are linked,” said the
prince. “They’re all part of the White Guardian. It stands to reason that
one Flamestone could be aware of the presence of another. It’s certainly worth
putting to the test.”

Jace nodded. “It just might be possible! Perhaps your
Flamestone can lead us directly to the other one, no matter how well hidden it
us.”

“You’re just guessing, though,” said Bekka.
“You don’t actually have any evidence that it will work.”

“I don’t need evidence,” said Prince Vannas, with
a smug look. “My heart tells me it is so. My instincts tell me. That is
all I need.”

Bekka shook her head. She was taller than Vannas and more
muscular, with broad shoulders and very dark skin. Not easily impressed by
words, she demanded proof whenever someone made boasts. “If I trusted my
heart every time it told me something, it would have been cut out long
ago.”

Prince Vannas nodded. “But that’s you,
Norack
.
I am a Birlote, and a Birlote can trust his heart to lead him to the
truth.”

“Agreed,” said Aldreya, pride in her voice.
“A Birlote’s instincts are not to be taken lightly. We can sense things
Noracks and Olrogs cannot.”

“Believe what you will,” said Bekka, “but
until I see some evidence that this White Flamestone can actually guide us, I
won’t be relying on it.”

“Nor will I,” said Jerret.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Furlus. “Whether
it can guide you or not, the journey will likely proceed.” He winked at
Bekka and muttered in a low voice, “But I wouldn’t trust a Birlote’s
instincts either.”

“Exactly,” Daledus Oakfist mumbled in response.
The brawny Dwarf had three mugs of ale and a heaping platter of beef in front
of him.

The Birlotes frowned but said nothing.

***

They enjoyed the remainder of the afternoon, avoiding any
serious topics of conversation and instead focusing on the food and
entertainment. The clouds parted in the afternoon and left blue sky overhead,
while the pleasant breeze continued to keep them cool. It was shaping up to be
a wonderful evening for sitting beneath the stars and partaking in the Festival
of Souls. There was not a Goblin to be seen within miles of Ollanhar (though
the Lawkeeper and his warriors were camped just beyond the oak grove), and an
attack seemed unlikely.

As nightfall settled over the land, they built a huge
bonfire that sent sparks soaring into the starry heavens. The tables were laden
with all manner of food, though all but the heartiest eaters had already tired
of feasting. Wine and ale poured constantly into mugs and goblets, and a few of
the Knights had already lapsed into slumber for the evening, seated at tables.
(It was considered unacceptable for a Knight to drink until unable to sit or
stand—though the rule was often broken without consequence if the
circumstances were right.)

 
Aldreya, Dallsa,
and Lannon sat apart from the others. Never willing to drink alcohol, Lannon
sipped sweetened milk from a goblet—a special Birlote beverage that was
supposed to invigorate him. However, it had the opposite effect in that it
quickly made him tired. The milk was delicious, though, and he drank three
servings of it before he grew dizzy. Puzzled, he found himself thinking strange
thoughts—admiring Aldreya’s beauty and wondering why she looked so perfect. He
kept staring at her until he noticed that Dallsa was glaring at him, and then
he looked away, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

“Are you okay, Lannon?” Dallsa asked, frowning.
“You seem to be watching our Green Knight rather intently.”

Aldreya seemed to take no notice, however, her eyes fixed
on the bard as he sang and danced.

“It’s nothing,” said Lannon, waving at her. His
words sounded strange to him—distant. “You know I only have eyes for
you.”

Dallsa looked shocked (though delighted).

Lannon was startled by his words. He realized he wasn’t
entirely in control of his thoughts or actions. He gazed at his goblet of
Birlote milk, wondering what the beverage contained. One of the Blue Knights
had given it to him with a grin and a wink, stating that if Lannon didn’t like
wine or ale then he might as well have some truly invigorating milk. Suddenly
the truth dawned on Lannon.

“I’m drunk!” he mumbled.

Dallsa’s expression darkened. “Oh, I see.”

Aldreya glanced at Lannon. “It must be Greeule Milk.
Yes, you should slow down a bit on drinking it. It is very potent.”

“I had no idea,” said Lannon, irritated that the
Blue Knight had duped him into doing something he had sworn never to do. He
reached for the goblet to push it away and knocked it over, spilling it into
Dallsa’s lap.

With a disgusted sigh, Dallsa moved to another table.

Lannon shook his head helplessly, then took to gazing at
Aldreya again. He regretted offending Dallsa, but he could barely keep his eyes
off the radiant Birlote girl. In the back of his mind, he knew he was ignoring
the Sacred Laws by taking such an interest in her, but his gaze seemed
hopelessly locked in place.

Aldreya smiled at him. “You will sleep well this night.
Had I known what was in your goblet, I would have warned you.”

“Thank you,” he said, though his words seemed
meaningless. “Your hair is amazing. I’ve never said this before, but the
silver curls…”

She didn’t respond, but her fiery green eyes drew him in.
He could glimpse the depths of her power shining in her gaze—not just the
power of sorcery, but the natural energy that all Birlotes possessed. He wanted
to touch her hair, but his Knightly training was too strong to allow it even
under these circumstances.
Or was it?
He found himself leaning closer to
her until his lips were inches away from hers. Hopelessly lost to her spell, he
gave in and attempted to kiss her.

“Lannon!” The sharp tone broke the spell.

Startled, Lannon leaned back swiftly and nearly tipped his
chair over. Aldreya was gazing at him sternly. “Control yourself.”

He bowed. “Of course. For a moment I…lost
myself.”

She nodded. “For a moment, you did.” He glimpsed
an amused twinkle in her eyes, but couldn’t make sense of it. Was she toying
with him?

Aldreya focused on the bard again, while Lannon sat
pondering how to regain control. The High Watchman of Ollanhar was acting like
a drunken fool, and that was unacceptable.

Aldreya pushed a platter of bread and cheese toward him.
“Eat. It will help you overcome the milk.”

Lannon wasn’t hungry, but he did as she instructed.

 
Meanwhile, the bard told stories of legendary battles against the
realm of Tharnin: