Knights: Legends of Ollanhar Read online

  Lannon sent his gaze beyond the barrier--and glimpsed treasure. But Lothrin had already begun tearing apart the heap.

  "Can you believe this?" said Lothrin, pausing to wipe sweat from his brow. "The Ghoul must surely visit its treasure often--probably several times a day. And each time, afterwards, it must pile up all this stuff again to hide it. Apparently, it is very passionate about its hobby."

  "This is madness," said Lannon, tossing a battered wagon wheel aside. "Greed that is beyond my comprehension."

  "Imagine spending your existence," said Lothrin, "building a heap of refuse and then tearing it down again--over and over--for fear that some intruder must glimpse your hoard. Could human greed ever reach such a level?"

  Lannon nodded. "It seems human greed can go far beyond that. Look at what King Verlamer has done--waging war on the entire continent, enslaving one kingdom after another. Those who serve greed are often tireless."

  "You must think the Birlotes are greedy, then," said Lothrin. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt. "Our empire is large. My family is very wealthy, with vast treasure troves."

  "Did they steal that treasure from others?" asked Lannon.

  "Of course not," said Lothrin, looking slightly offended. "That's not our way. We created our own wealth through hard work."

  "Then that's different," said Lannon. "I wouldn't mind being wealthy, as long as I earned it."

  "You are wealthy," said Lothrin. "At least compared to most."

  Lannon considered Lothrin's words, and saw the truth in them. "I guess you're right. For some reason I don't feel wealthy."

  Lothrin chuckled. "Because we're still digging in the dirt. As Divine Knights, we're still sacrificing all of our time to help others."

  "That must be it," said Lannon.

  With a groan, he pulled a partially buried log free. "Anyway, this sort of greed is beyond belief. This heap is gigantic!"

  "It's monstrous," Lothrin agreed, ripping a tangle of black roots free that looked like a giant spider. "I don't even know what to say."

  "It makes my flesh crawl," said Lannon. "To tear all this apart---and then build it back up. Every single day. Over and over, for who knows how many years or decades...or even centuries." He shuddered.

  At last they cleared the heap, and found a pile of gold and silver coins beyond. Mixed into that pile were precious gems (mostly rubies), along with jewelry, objects such as platters and goblets made of expensive metals, fancy decorative objects like statues and vases, and exquisite weapons and armor. A pair of Birlote torches--silver rods with glowing gems atop them--lit up the treasure, causing everything to gleam and sparkle hypnotically.

  It was an impressive hoard and a great find for Ollanhar, and for a few moments Lannon and Lothrin simply gazed at it in wonder.

  Since joining Dremlock Kingdom, Lannon had seen a lot of treasure. But there was something truly magical about this find--to see all this sparkling loot in a single heap lying at the back of a dirty cave. Lannon normally cared little for wealth, but he was filled with the urge to start stuffing his pockets.

  "One problem," said Lothrin. "How are we going to carry this?"

  Lannon shrugged. He examined the weapons and armor with the Eye and found a helm made of Glaetherin. It looked almost aquatic, with two rows of what resembled fish gills and a single curved horn jutting out from the forehead. The horn was infused with energy, granting the wearer endurance. It had been crafted by the Grey Dwarves for the Norack ruler of a coastal kingdom, centuries ago, and had ended up belonging to a famous pirate for two decades who had terrorized the coast. The name, referencing a fierce sea god, was inscribed on it in small runes:

  HEAD OF GRANACK

  LORD OF THE WATERS

  "You want this helm?" asked Lannon, kicking it toward Lothrin. He explained what the Eye had shown him.

  Lothrin knelt and touched the helm, his eyes wide. "Items of sorcery are extremely rare, Lannon. This helm has to be worth a fortune--maybe even more than your sword. Surely you should keep it."

  "I don't like armor," said Lannon. "I move faster without it. Go ahead and see if it fits. If it doesn't, we can give it to some other Knight."

  Lothrin tried it on, but found it a bit too large for his head. "Doesn't feel right," he said. "Its power is lost on me." He sighed, then removed it.

  "Maybe Daledus would want it," said Lannon. He thought it over and then said, "Actually, his head is probably too wide for it."

  Lothrin looked skeptical. "I'm not sure you have the authority to just give it away like that. We're talking about a legendary helm crafted for a king. Surely the High Council will decide what becomes of it."

  "I'm not too concerned with that," said Lannon, examining a large jeweled goblet inscribed with Birlote runes. "We're not at Dremlock or Ollanhar, and a good piece of armor shouldn't go to waste."

  "This isn't just a good piece of armor," said Lothrin. "You saw it yourself. This helm can make you a greater warrior. I can't even imagine how long it took to craft this item--all the effort that must have gone into it."

  "It's a great helm, obviously," said Lannon. "But we're not talking about the Hand of Tharnin here. It won't make you invincible."

  "True," said Lothrin, "but it also does not corrupt like that gauntlet does. It can be used endlessly with no consequences. Or am I wrong?"

  Lannon examined it again. "I can't see any drawbacks. But it doesn't mean there couldn't be some hidden ones. I believe any item of sorcery can be dangerous if misused. I'm bonded to my sword to the point where I occasionally start to become obsessed with it and worry that I'll lose it. And my sword only contains a mild amount of sorcery held within the Dragon bones."

  Lothrin touched the gleaming horn and the gills. "This helm may mean nothing to you, Lannon, but this could easily be the heart of a kingdom. An item like this could spawn decades of war--and probably has."

  "If you say so," said Lannon, not convinced. "To me it's a lump of metal that sits on the head and gives you a boost."

  Lothrin gazed at him in amusement. "You're a strange fellow, Lannon. As a Ranger, I too have shunned wealth and royalty in favor of a simple life. But even I can recognize the true value of this helm."

  "It would hold more value for you," said Lannon, "if it actually fit your head. I think I'll see if Bekka wants it. Might fit her."

  Lothrin frowned. "Bekka shouldn't have it. Although she is a member of the Council, there is nothing extraordinary about her. If you don't want it, it should go to Aldreya or Prince Vannas."

  "Because they're Birlotes?" said Lannon.

  "Because of their royal blood," Lothrin answered.

  Feeling irritated, Lannon swiped up the helm. "It's going to Bekka, whether it fits her or not. She's just as good as anyone else."

  "Of course," said Lothrin, his face reddening. "I didn't mean it like that."

  "Then how did you mean it?" asked Lannon. The attitude of superiority that many of the Birlotes seemed to share sometimes annoyed him.

  For a moment, Lothrin was at a loss for words. "I don't know. But you're right. There is no reason Bekka shouldn't have it. She suffered horribly from that Ghoul's attack, and has fought valiantly to recover. She is worthy."

  The two stood in silence for a time.

  Lannon gazed at the glittering heap. "There is no way the two of us can carry all this. I'll wait here and guard the treasure. We'll need a wagon."

  ***

  Once the treasure was moved to the camp, the Divine Knights held a meeting. Lannon sat with the Glaetherin helm beside him, waiting for a moment to propose that it be given to Bekka. Bekka was sitting up, looking stronger--though she wasn't wearing her armor and still seemed exhausted. Her eyes held a determined, yet haunted look, her fingers digging at the earth as she fought to hold herself upright. Her dark skin dripped sweat from pain and exertion, her formidable muscles knotted with the mere effort of sitting up. She had insisted on attending the meeting, and Lannon found himself admiring her courage.
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  Young Taith sat beside Lannon, running his fingers over the helm. His clothes and face were dirty, and a dead leaf was stuck in his tangled brown hair. "Why can't I have it, Lannon?" the boy whispered.

  "I already told you," Lannon whispered back, as he plucked the leaf from Taith's hair. "It's too big for you."

  "I'll grow," Taith pointed out.

  Lannon gazed at him sternly. "It will go to a Knight who can make good use of it. Now stop asking for it."

  "But my dagger is gone," said Taith, sighing. "I don't have anything now. And that helm is amazing. Please, can I have it?"

  Lannon shook his head. "You'll get weapons and armor at Dremlock. Now be quiet, for our leader is about to speak."

  Taith bowed his head, looking gloomy.

  "The Hawk has returned," said Aldreya, "bearing commands from the High Council." The Green Knight of Ollanhar was standing on a log, her curly silver hair blowing in the breeze to reveal her pointed ears. She wore a green cloak of Birlote silk that signified her rank. Her face was strikingly beautiful and youthful in the sunlight that broke through the clouds, but her expression was grim.

  "Let me guess," said Jace, scowling. He was seated on a rock, long arms folded across his chest. "The mission is over. We've been ordered to go home and indulge in some rice pudding." The towering, purple-cloaked sorcerer spoke with heavy sarcasm. He had run out of pipe tobacco recently and his mood had soured as a result. This was the first time he had spoken all day.

  "Not exactly," said Aldreya. "We are commanded to resume the quest for the Green Flamestone immediately. There is a town called Red Barrel beyond the mountains. We will journey there, and leave Taith with the innkeeper. Later, a group of Knights will come for the boy."

  Taith's eyes widened. He clutched Lannon's arm. "I don't want to be left with some strange innkeeper. Do I have to go there?"

  "Sorry, Taith," said Lannon, "but yes, you have to go. You'll be fine there. The Knights will take you to Dremlock to begin your training." It was hard for Lannon to believe that this fearful, uncertain lad had the potential to become a Dark Watchman. Yet the truth was that Lannon himself had been a fearful, uncertain lad not too long ago. Lannon had changed rapidly after becoming a Squire, and he saw no reason why it would be any different for Taith. Soon the boy would learn how to fight and kill--and more significantly, how to unlock the extremely dangerous Eye of Divinity. The boy's childish innocence that made Lannon feel so fatherly and protective was fleeting, soon to be replaced by the grim soul of a warrior.

  "But we're short on Knights," Vorden complained. "All that remains is the Council, with Jerret being our lone mercenary. We're expected to complete this mission on our own, with no help from Dremlock?"

  "We had help," said Aldreya. "They're all dead."

  "That's not our fault," said Vorden. "These mountains are filled with evil. We did the best we could. Dremlock should send us more fighters." The Soddurn Mountains had taken a toll on Vorden, invoking dreary memories of his past as a puppet of the Deep Shadow and the leader of the Blood Legion. He looked weary and haunted as he leaned against a pine.

  "Dremlock can't spare any Knights," said Aldreya. "They must remain in Silverland to defend against Bellis and the Blood Legion. However, some will be sent here to secure Wallrock Fortress, which means we are free to leave at once. In the town of Red Barrel, we can find mercenaries who might be willing to join us for the right price. And thanks to Lannon and Lothrin finding that treasure, we have a lot of extra money to help finance our mission."

  "We can hire some stout fighters, certainly," said Vorden. "But they're not Divine Knights."

  Aldreya shrugged. "The High Council commands us to depart this very day. The decision has been made. Discussing it is pointless."

  "Who will be in charge of these mercenaries?" asked Lannon.

  "Jerret can bear that responsibility," said Aldreya. "He is not on the Council of Ollanhar and is in need of duties."

  "I have enough duties," said Jerret, "dealing with our foes." The muscular warrior had been sullen and angry since Galvia's death and his expulsion from the Divine Order. His blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, exposing a face empty of all joy. He had been forced to surrender his powerful red armor, and now only a grey tunic covered his thick chest. He still possessed his mighty Glaetherin broadsword however--a gift that belonged to him alone.

  "Not good enough," said Aldreya, "considering how much you're being paid. You will be in charge of the mercenaries. That's an order."

  Jerret nodded. "As you wish. But is it wise to put a lawbreaker like me in command of mercenaries?"

  "I'm not sure," Aldreya admitted. "But you are at least somewhat aware of our laws. Besides, I'm sure you'll enjoy the role."

  "I will, actually," said Jerret. "I'll enjoy keeping them in line--knocking some heads together if the need arises."

  "After leaving Red Barrel," Aldreya went on, "we will journey to Wolfbine Kingdom, which rests on an island on the continent's largest lake. The kingdom is under control of Bellis, but we can find some of the best fighters in all the land there. I'm mainly interested in the Temple of the Great Light found on the island's coast. The Paladins who serve that temple are extremely skilled fighters. I'm hoping we can recruit at least one of them."

  "Traveling there will be very dangerous," said Lannon. "It will be difficult to go unnoticed by Bellis' soldiers. Is it worth it?"

  "Very much so," said Aldreya. "To lay hands on the Green Flamestone, we will need all the help we can get. Wolfbine holds some of the fiercest and most arrogant warriors alive--warriors as powerful as Divine Knights. The city is not heavily guarded by Bellis, and we should--with great care--be able to slip in, hire the warriors we need, and slip out again without a fight."

  "I have been to Wolfbine Kingdom," said Jace. "I have encountered some of the warriors you speak of, and they are indeed fierce. Bounty hunters and mercenaries with strange abilities and colossal reputations--living legends. Their services won't come cheap, but we should be able to afford a handful of them provided we don't lose or spend too much treasure on the journey."

  "From there," Aldreya went on, "we will travel to the Birlote outpost called Werldock and try to obtain some archers. Not far from there is the coastal city of Blackthorn, where we can secure a ship. By then we should have enough warriors for a good crew."

  "Then it's out to sea," said Jace, a grim look on his face.

  "Yes," said Aldreya, "out to sea, where some of Bellis' greatest warriors went and never returned. Who knows what awaits us out there?" She hesitated, her eyes distant, then said, "I see it in my visions like a black storm cloud--an unknown terror hovering above the sea that will engulf us...perhaps some bloated beast. And that is why we need the best fighters we can get."

  "What can we..." Bekka started to speak, but she seemed to lose her voice. She started to fall over. Lannon rose to help her, but she motioned him back. She tried to talk again, then shook her head.

  Dallsa knelt by her and held her arm, smiling. Dallsa had been tireless in her duties of caring for Bekka. The plump, dark-haired healer was fiercely loyal to everyone on the Council (especially to Lannon, whom she openly expressed her love for in spite of such love being a violation of the Sacred Laws). She had the warmest heart of anyone Lannon knew, and he had grown extremely fond of her. But the Sacred Laws always came first with Lannon, and there was no place for marriage in his life. He intended to remain a Knight until he was old or dead.

  "That is all I have for now," said Aldreya.

  "If I may," said Lannon, "I would like to present this helm to Bekka--if it fits her. It's a good helm." He cleared his throat. "Made of Glaetherin."

  "Has it been tested?" asked Aldreya.

  "I examined all of the treasure," said Dallsa. "There were two cursed items--a goblet and a large coin. I removed the curse from both objects. Everything else is clean. Well, not clean. It should be washed. But no Deep Shadow."

  "It is my belief," said Aldre
ya, "that this mighty helm be passed down the chain of command. Since Lannon and I wear no armor, that leaves Prince Vannas with the first choice. And I believe his head is the right size."

  The prince rose. "Such a magnificent helm should go to the Birlote royal family. I will wear it with pride and eventually take it to Borenthia."

  "I disagree," said Lannon. "It belongs to Dremlock, not the Birlotes."

  "Agreed," said Daledus, scowling.

  "Actually," said Aldreya, "it has been claimed by Ollanhar, not Dremlock. And therefore, the Council has the right to decide where it goes."

  "But we're an extension of Dremlock," Lannon pointed out.

  "Yes," said Aldreya, "but we're also independent in many ways. We're allowed to claim treasure without seeking approval from the High Council--if we choose. The High Council, of course, can overrule us."

  "I'm surprised at you, Lannon," said Vannas. "Why wouldn't you want me to possess this helm, when my survival is so vital to Dremlock?"

  "It's not that," said Lannon.

  "Then what is it?" asked Vannas.

  Lannon didn't answer. He simply felt sorry for Bekka and wanted her to have it, but he didn't bother explaining that.

  "I propose," said Aldreya, "that if it doesn't fit the prince, then Bekka may borrow it."

  "Indefinitely," said Lannon. "Or at least for as long as she is a Knight."

  Aldreya was thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "I will agree to that, since I firmly believe it will fit the prince."

  Reluctantly, Lannon handed the helm to Vannas, while Bekka looked on without expression. Bekka was too weak to speak up, her mind and body still plagued by evil sorcery from the Ghoul's attack.

  Vannas grinned and raised the helm. "Surely this was meant to be mine--just like the White Flamestone. It will be a perfect fit. That's why I grew a bit bigger than you, Lothrin. Just so I could wear this. It was fate."

  Lothrin rolled his eyes. "Like you need more power, cousin."

  Vannas lowered the helm onto his head. In his fancy gold-and-blue robe of Birlote silk, with the magnificent helm and its lone horn gleaming the sunlight, he was a wondrous sight to behold. Yet his grin vanished.