Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) (32 page)

He glanced up—to find the other Ghouls scurrying away
along the walls. Soon they were lost from view.

He let them escape and moved on. He suspected they would
try to ambush him at some point, but his focus was on finding the prince.

Lannon was overcome with a strange sensation that he had
experienced in the recent past—some kind of odd battle lust. He found himself
eager for more combat, anxious to test his growing skills. A voice in his mind
whispered that this fortress was a great place for him to prove himself. He
wanted to kill the Barloak Demon—if that’s what indeed his foe was—and
conquer Wallrock Fortress. The thought of it sent a surge of energy through
him.

Lannon didn’t trust this feeling, as it was out of
character for him. Typically he wanted to avoid combat and didn’t care about
making boasts or proving himself. Yet he couldn’t deny how powerful it was. He
felt like a truly dangerous warrior—one his foes should be terrified of. And
he liked it.

Lannon paused, struggling with his thoughts. He told
himself that he didn’t want to turn into Jerret—a rampaging barbarian with
bloodlust in his heart. Jerret was not the ideal Knight of Dremlock or servant
of the Divine Essence, as he seemed to lack peacefulness and gentleness. Lannon
told himself these things, but his heart still smoldered with the desire for
combat. Ultimately he was forced to ignore the feeling and move on.

Soon Lannon found himself wandering a sprawling maze of
tunnels, in which he saw many strange sights—such as dungeon cells packed full
of human bones, gruesome torture chambers, and halls lined with incredibly
lifelike Dwarven statues. He did not encounter the escaped Ghouls, and he was
disappointed. He still hungered for combat, but there were no enemies to be
found.

At last the strange feeling departed from Lannon and he
returned to normal. He was left wondering if the curse of the Dark Watchmen had
temporarily had him in its clutches, and he shuddered. Was this what the future
held for him? For a moment he faltered, wondering if he should go on. He
remembered Vorden’s warning about the danger of losing himself in this
fortress.

But then Lannon’s thoughts focused on Taris Warhawk. The
legendary sorcerer had great faith in Lannon and believed Lannon could overcome
the curse of his predecessors. Lannon took comfort in that.

 
Soon Lannon located
Prince Vannas’ trail, and his excitement grew. Vannas had been alive very
recently—though Lannon also sensed the presence of the immensely powerful
creature. The trail was strong and easy to follow. The only question now was
whether or not Lannon could avoid a fight.

***

In the forge, Dallsa kept pacing about.

“You should sit and rest,” said Aldreya.

Everyone else had found places to sit.

“I can’t rest,” Dallsa replied. “Not with
Lannon gone. And he has been gone a long time. I think we should search for
him.”

“Your feelings for Lannon are too strong,” said
Aldreya. “A Knight should not be so infatuated with another Knight. It is
dangerous.”

Dallsa’s face reddened. “I’m well aware of that,
Aldreya. And if you’re going to lecture me on that topic, please do it in
private. I know the Sacred Laws and I know where I stand. I’m allowed to care
deeply for Lannon.”

“Calm yourself,” said Aldreya. “I never said
you couldn’t care about him. But your feelings are overcoming your judgment.
You’re a Divine Knight and on the Council of Ollanhar. You should behave
accordingly.”

“Actually, I’m still a Squire,” said Dallsa.

Aldreya shook her head. “Not exactly. You’re a
Knight
Appointed
—which means you’re a Squire that has the authority of a Knight.
That promotion was necessary for you to be on the Council, as Squires are not
allowed.”

“Fine,” said Dallsa, “but I’m still not a
fully recognized Knight. It will take time for me to change my behavior.”
Wringing her hands together, she paced around by the stairs. “What are we
even talking about? Where is Lannon?”

“Actually,” said Vorden, “Dallsa has a
point. Where
is
Lannon? This is taking far too long. I think we should
do some exploring below.”

“How?” asked Aldreya. “Don’t forget the
stairs are guarded by dark sorcery that Lannon felt was too strong for
us.”

“But you’re a sorcerer,” said Jerret, as he
chewed on some jerky. “Why can’t you break the spell? Or is it too strong
for you?”

Aldreya brushed her curly hair from her eyes, looking
thoughtful. “Maybe I could break the spell. But maybe I shouldn’t.”

Jace woke up and looked around. “What are we
discussing?”

“What about you, Jace?” asked Dallsa.
“You’re a sorcerer too. Why can’t you rid the stairs of the dark
sorcery?”

“Ah, there is a problem with that,” said Jace.
“I don’t have any magic.” With that, he bowed his head and started
snoring again.

“A sorcerer with no magic?” said Dallsa.
“How can that be?”

Jace raised his head again. “How many fireballs do you
see me tossing around? How many have I
ever
summoned in my two centuries
of life? I’ll give you a hint: it’s less than one. I may be known as a
sorcerer, but I assure you I am quite incapable of breaking evil spells. Now,
to contradict my earlier statement, I may possess just a bit of what you would
call magic. Just a tiny bit, yes, in my blood. But not enough to deal with the
fiendish darkness that haunts those stairs.”

“Well, someone has to try,” said Dallsa,
“because I have a strong feeling that Lannon is in trouble. He needs
us!”

“A strong feeling is not evidence,” said Aldreya.

“Unless it’s Birlote instinct, of course,” said
Jerret, rolling his eyes.

Aldreya didn’t reply.

“We should have faith in Lannon,” said Lothrin,
“and give him more time. If we go blundering around down there, we could
make things worse.”

“He’s had enough time,” said Vorden. “Lannon
is as swift as the wind, and he sees everything. He should have completed his
mission by now.”

“What is your opinion, Jace?” asked Aldreya.

“He can’t hear you,” said Jerret. “He’s
sleeping.”

Jace glanced up. “Who’s sleeping? Oh…it appears I
was. No worries, I heard the question anyway.” He yawned. “And the
answer is: yes, we need more fireworks at the celebrations. And more
cheese.”

“You must have been dreaming,” said Aldreya.
“I actually want to know if we should go below and search for
Lannon.”

Jace leapt to his feet. “Of course we should! We can’t
leave Lannon to fend for himself against the demon. It’s much too powerful. I
know—because I ran into it the last time I was here. It took me prisoner and
tortured me for three days before I managed to escape. It is a very cunning
foe—though I should call
it
a
he
, since all Barloak Demons are
considered males. Don’t ask me to explain, as I haven’t the time. Anyway,
Lannon must have been snared, or he would have returned by now. This is very,
very bad. We must go below at once!”

“So you’ve known about the demon?” said Aldreya.
“Why didn’t you mention it before?”

“I did,” said Jace. He scratched his head.
“Didn’t I? I’m still very tired.”

“You heard him, Aldreya,” said Dallsa. “Now
let’s go.”

Aldreya rose and went to the stairs. “I am reluctant
to do this, as I could spring the trap on all of us. If the darkness takes me,
I suggest the rest of you flee. Don’t try to rescue me. That’s an order.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” said Jerret, with a
wry smile.

“Thanks,” she muttered, glaring at him.

The others gathered on the other side of the chamber, as
Aldreya hurled several blazing fireballs down the steps. She hesitated, peering
below, and then launched a few more. Weary from expending so much energy, she
rested for a moment, breathing heavily from the strain.

“I think I did it,” she called out. “The
dark sorcery has retreated or been burned away. The stairs are clear. But let’s
wait a bit.”

They waited, but the stairs remained free of the curse.

“I guess Lannon was wrong,” she said. “I
broke the spell. And it was easier than I had anticipated.”

“I’ll go first,” said Jace, “to light the
way.” The sorcerer strode to the stairs and started down carelessly,
waving his Birlote torch around. He glanced back. “Come along now.”

The others followed.

When they were about halfway down, a dark fog suddenly
arose from the depths and surrounded them. Parts of the fog squirmed and
wiggled like fingers reaching for the fools who had thought it was defeated.

“The spell remains!” Aldreya cried.
“Flee!”

They ran back up the stairs, and all of them made it except
Jace. The fog engulfed the huge sorcerer—his eyes wide with horror—until only
his torch was visible. Then the torch clattered to the steps.

The others groaned in frustration.

“Hurl your fire at it,” said Lothrin.

“I dare not,” said Aldreya, “for I could
burn Jace to ash.”

“But he will be smothered!” said Dallsa.

A feeling of coldness in the air caused them to whirl
around. The chamber door stood open, and a white mist had flooded the forge. As
they watched, a ghastly figure walked toward them, flanked by eight Ghouls. It
possessed the shape of a male human, but it was at least nine-feet tall—a lean
figure with bone-white flesh, a bald head, and pointed ears. He was dressed
only in a golden, scaly, metallic loincloth, though the mist seemed to wrap
around him like a cloak. His hands ended in long white claws. He gazed at the
intruders with icy blue eyes. That image was there for an instant, and then he
blended with the fog that swirled around him and shifting shadows that crept
over his body.

Dallsa gasped and shrank back from an aura that was like
poison to her soul. The others simply stood and stared, too overwhelmed to
react. When they realized their mistake, it was too late—as the white mist
wound around them like chains, binding them fast. Not even Aldreya could escape
these chains of sorcery that held them in such a powerful grasp they couldn’t
even speak.

All they could see was white fog and shifting shadows—and
icy blue eyes that cut through the mist and gazed upon them. They could not
have anticipated the true power of this Barloak Demon—the mighty snares it
could cast at will that had doomed so many Divine Knights in the past. They
were just five more victims to the demon. Five fools who were defeated without
a fight.

***

Lannon followed the trail through several more tunnels and
chambers before encountering a locked iron door with a laughing Olrog face
sculpted at the center of it. The door gave him immense trouble. He tried every
technique he knew to get it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Because Prince Vannas’
trail passed beyond the door, Lannon had no choice but to keep trying.

The laughing Dwarf seemed to mock Lannon, making him
increasingly angry. Yet the more he struggled against the door, the more exhausted
he became and the weaker his attempts were. The key to the lock was dark
sorcery, and Lannon’s magic was just the opposite. At last he slumped down and
rested for a while, letting his strength recuperate.

Once rested, he wandered back along the tunnel, looking for
anything that would assist him. In a storage room he found a large iron anvil.
He carried it to the door and hesitated. Stealth and surprise were great
assets, but he was about to make enough noise to wake the dead (if they weren’t
already awake).

Yet Lannon felt he had no other options. The door’s lock
was simply too well-crafted by the Dwarves for him to manipulate.
 
Nothing would work on it except dark sorcery
or brute force.

With a grunt, Lannon hurled the anvil against the door with
all the power the Eye could lend him. The heavy piece of iron bounced off and
Lannon had to leap over it to avoid a couple of shattered legs. It had left a
tiny dent.

Losing himself to frustration, Lannon lifted the anvil
again and slammed it right into the laughing face—smashing it in. He heard a
cracking noise at the edges of the door. Again and again he drove the iron
object into the door, until at last he smashed it out of its frame and it fell
to the stone floor with a deafening clatter. Lannon drew his sword and leaned
against the wall, chest heaving.

He rested for a while, then moved on. He soon entered a
magnificent hallway with huge, rusty weapons lining the walls. These weapons
seemed built for Thallite Giants or Ogres, but the Eye revealed they were
actually for the Barloak Demons themselves. There were battle axes,
broadswords, spears, maces, and hammers. There were also helms, shields, and
breastplates. These were crude and simple weapons, not designed to look fancy
but simply to kill and terrorize. They were appropriately ugly—especially now
that the centuries had left them thoroughly rusted.

Beyond that hall some wide steps led down to a large dining
chamber full of chairs and oak tables, and it was here that Lannon found not
only Prince Vannas, but his other companions as well. The prince stood in a
corner, unshackled as far as Lannon could see. But there seemed to be something
wrong with him. He held the White Flamestone in his cupped hands, and its pale
glow filled the chamber. His gaze was locked onto the gem—his eyes blazing
with intensity—and he was standing as still as a statue. He seemed frozen in
some emotional moment.

The others—with the exception of Jace, who was nowhere to
be seen—stood on the opposite side of the room, their bodies held motionless
by a pale mist twisted about them. They were as frozen as Prince Vannas.

Cautiously, Lannon walked between the tables. The Dining
Room was filled with fog. He sensed the demon was in here and concealed by the
mist. The evil sorcery confused the Eye of Divinity, and the demon seemed
everywhere.