Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) (35 page)

“Who am I to argue?” said Jace. But he hesitated.

“It is time for something new,” said the demon.
“I wanted to kill you myself, but you are a bit stronger than I had
anticipated. Yet I have another trick up my sleeve—a snare that is perfect for
a young, naive warrior like you. I will reveal to you my greatest strength and
what has made me so feared throughout the ages.”

“I don’t like the sound of this at all,” said
Jace, his eyes wide. His pipe slipped from his fingers to the floor. Then he
flung himself at the demon, swinging his fist. But his attack found only fog.

Lannon realized something was trying to invade his
head—something that felt like a hand seeking to crush his mind. He summoned
the Eye to him, trying to fight off the evil sorcery, but the grip kept
tightening.

“My deepest apologies, young man,” came the
demon’s hiss. “This is not a very honorable thing I am doing here, but I
really have no urge to continue fighting you. Too risky. This is just something
that must be done.”

Horrified, Lannon called upon everything he had in an
effort to break free—and he almost succeeded. For a moment the invading,
invisible hand was pushed away, but then it returned even stronger, breaking
through his defenses and squeezing Lannon’s mind so viciously that pain
exploded in his skull.

I’m going to die
, Lannon thought numbly.

But he didn’t die. Instead, he found himself unable to move
or even think anything but limited thoughts. He stood there waiting to be
commanded—a puppet living only to serve his master. Somewhere deep inside he
felt despair over this enslavement, but he was powerless to change it.

“Good,” said the demon. “You are mine now,
Lannon Sunshield. This is going to be incredibly amusing. Unfortunate for you
that your prince is lost in a trance and cannot help you with his little
Flamestone. I’ll deal with him later, after you have done my work and slain
yourself.”

Lannon heard the words and understood them, but he didn’t
care. He would do whatever his master commanded.

“Kill the sorcerer first,” said Lord Hathannis. A
clawed finger emerged from the fog to point at Jace. “Kill him quickly,
Lannon.”

Lannon raised his sword and moved toward Jace.

“Wait!” Jace said, raising his hands. “Free
your mind, Lannon. Remember your training as a Divine Knight? Remember the
Eye?”

Lannon paused, wondering what Jace was talking about. He
remembered his training and the Eye perfectly well. Jace was a dangerous foe,
but Lannon was certain he could dispatch him. Jace was quite strong, but surely
he was too slow to defend against Lannon.

“You are a Divine Knight,” Jace reminded him.
“You only fight with honor, and you must obey the Sacred Laws. Think,
Lannon!”

Lannon pondered Jace’s words.

“Finish him now,” Lord Hathannis ordered,
interrupting Lannon’s thoughts. “The sorcerer is only trying to confuse
you, Lannon.”

Lannon darted in and took a swing at Jace’s neck. Somehow
the sorcerer ducked and got behind Lannon, nearly catching the Dark Watchman in
the head with a blow from his fist. The fist grazed Lannon’s hair.

Lannon whirled around and stuck Jace in the forehead with
the hilt of his sword, knocking him to the floor. Lannon moved in for the kill.

Groaning, Jace tried to rise, but Lannon kicked him in the
chest and knocked him down again. Lannon stood over the sorcerer, sword raised
for a downward thrust that would pierce Jace’s heart

Jace raised his arm to ward off the attack. “Enough,
Lannon. I surrender. The Sacred Laws forbid you to kill me.”

Lannon hesitated, not quite remembering the Sacred Laws.
Was he supposed to spare Jace’s life?

“
My
law is all that matters,” said Lord
Hathannis. “You simply must do as I command, Lannon. Now pierce his
heart.”

While Lannon was hesitating, Jace snagged Lannon’s legs
with his own and tripped him viciously. Lannon fell hard to the floor and
struck his head.

“Sorry, my friend,” Jace mumbled.

“This is tiresome,” said the demon. “You’re
making a fool of yourself, Lannon. Get up and kill him, or I will do it
myself.”

Lannon rose, blood dripping from his forehead, feeling
dazed. His mind almost went black, but the power of the Eye sustained him.

Jace rose to face him. “I don’t want to kill you,
Lannon. You may be more important to the fate of this world than I am. However,
I have a right to defend myself and if need be, I will take you down.”

Lannon swung at Jace’s neck with a speed the sorcerer
failed to match—but for some reason he didn’t finish the strike, the sword
blade pausing an inch from the flesh. Lannon was puzzled by this.

“You can’t do it,” said Jace. “You’re too
lawful.”

Lannon raised his blade again for another swing.

Then the demon let out a loud hiss of warning. Vorden had
somehow broken free of the sorcerous chains and was racing across the floor,
spiked shield raised. Vorden’s yellow eyes smoldered with rage directed toward
the demon.

“Defend me, Lannon!” Lord Hathannis commanded.

As Lannon turned to look, Jace lunged forward and swung his
fist at Lannon’s skull. Lannon knocked the fist aside and again struck Jace in
the forehead with his sword hilt, a brutal blow that knocked Jace instantly
unconscious. The sorcerer toppled to the floor and lay motionless.

Lord Hathannis laughed. “This should be an enjoyable
duel to watch. I think I’ll grab a goblet of wine. I’m having too much fun
tonight.”

Lannon’s sword clanged against Vorden’s spiked shield, and
Vorden shoved him back. The two warriors faced each other.

“I warned you of this, Lannon,” said Vorden.
“I warned you what could happen in this fortress, how you could lose
yourself. Except I thought it would be
me
who turned evil here. You must
find yourself!”

In response, Lannon swung at Vorden’s legs, but his Dragon
sword glanced off the plate armor, doing no damage.

“You’re my best friend, Lannon,” said Vorden.
“Maybe my only real friend in this world. I don’t want to kill you, but I
won’t leave you like this. I won’t let you exist as a monster like I did. I’ll
finish you before that happens.”

“Then finish him, cursed warrior,” said Lord
Hathannis. “Yes, I sense the power of the Deep Shadow in you. That’s how
you were able to break free.”

“I’m not the cursed one this time,” said Vorden.
“Lannon is.”

“You’re a child of the Deep Shadow,” said the
demon. “Like me. You can never escape from the clutches of Tharnin, young
man.”

“Wrong!” snarled Vorden, but he seemed to falter.

Lannon drove his sword into Vorden’s chest like a battering
ram—but again the armor held and the mighty sword was turned aside.

Vorden swung an armored forearm at Lannon’s head, but
Lannon blocked with his own arm—flesh meeting metal. Lannon’s arm—which was
shielded by the Eye—knocked Vorden’s aside.

Then Lannon tore Vorden’s shield away from him and flung it
aside. Vorden leapt in to get Lannon in a bear hug, but Lannon moved behind him
and got an arm around Vorden’s neck, choking him.

Vorden struggled to free himself, as Lannon sought to
squeeze Vorden’s throat until his breath was gone. Lannon was surprised at how
difficult it was to strangle Vorden. His neck seemed like iron.

At last Vorden broke free, and he turned to face Lannon.
“You’re fighting halfheartedly, like a weakling. I don’t possess the Hand
of Tharnin anymore. What is holding you back?”

Lannon pondered that. Was he actually trying his hardest?

“Remember the Divine Essence, Lannon?” said
Vorden. “Remember who you really serve? You should. You were blessed by
our god and given a special gift. Don’t waste it now living as a puppet.”

“I am your master now,” Lord Hathannis reminded
Lannon. But a hint of uncertainty had crept into his voice.

Lannon lunged at Vorden and kicked his legs out from under
him. Vorden fell to the floor, and Lannon tried to smash him in the skull with
his sword hilt—but Vorden blocked with his forearm.

Lannon shoved the forearm aside.

Vorden gazed up at him, sadness in his eyes. “I guess
you have to make a choice, old friend.” He closed his eyes, waiting.

Lannon hesitated.

“Kill him!” came the demonic hiss.

Lannon smashed Vorden in the head. But it was not a killing
blow, rendering Vorden unconscious with a severe concussion. Again, Lannon had
held back for some reason. He turned toward the demon.

“I grow weary of this,” the demon said. “I
sense life in him. I want your sword through his neck. Take his head and end
his miserable life.”

Lannon raised the sword, and he believed he would do as
ordered. His doubt seemed to fade, and he prepared to cut off Vorden’s head.

Then he heard a groan from behind him. It was Jace, who had
risen to his feet, blood dripping down his long nose. “Don’t kill him,
Lannon! In the name of Kuran Darkender, let your soul be free!”

Kuran Darkender? Lannon pondered the name. It seemed to
have been important to him at one time, but he wasn’t sure why.

Lord Hathannis seized Jace’s throat in a clawed hand,
lifting him into the air and shaking him. “Your death is long
overdue,” the demon bellowed. “I remember you, sorcerer. You, who
came here so boldly and raided my fortress. I will choke your head right off
your neck, you wretched thief!”

Lannon hesitated. Then at last he found himself, and a
flood of memories returned. The Eye, backed by Lannon’s will, broke the spell.

 
Lannon ran to the
demon—who was focused entirely on killing Jace—with silent footsteps and
shoved his sword into the pale back. The demon cried out in agony and dropped
Jace. He twisted loose from the sword and turned to face Lannon, his face
contorted with rage and hatred.

Vorden rose from the floor, his forehead swollen and his
yellow eyes unfocused. Then he seized his spiked shield and raced toward them.

“Now you’re finished!” said Lannon, rage and
disgust surging through him over what the demon had done. With Vorden at his
side, the two warriors moved toward their foe. The demon tried to hide in his
fog, but the Eye had adapted and Lannon could track his movements.

Realizing Lannon could see him, Lord Hathannis stopped
trying to conceal himself. He went after Vorden, who deflected a claw attack
with his shield—the spikes drawing blood from the demon’s hand. Meanwhile,
Lannon slashed a deep wound in the demon’s thigh.

Then Vorden’s shield turned crimson with sorcery. It grew
so hot that Lannon had to step away from it. Lord Hathannis sneered,
undoubtedly thinking the smoldering weapon was no threat to him, and waited for
Vorden’s attack. But Vorden simply stood there holding King Gormanol’s war
shield, which had become so hot that even the stout Birlote steel had begun to
droop.

Then Lannon attacked the demon from the flank. Lord
Hathannis turned and deflected Lannon’s sword stroke, while Vorden slammed the
glowing shield against the demon’s chest. The shield—heated by terrible fire
given to Vorden by the Hand of Tharnin—melted deep into the demon’s flesh and
became a blob of molten metal. Vorden released the shield and stepped back.

The demon backed away, wailing in despair, trying to tear
the glob of metal from his chest. Yet by then a huge hole had been burned into
him. Lord Hathannis stumbled and fell, his blue eyes wide with shock. He
continued to work at freeing himself from the blazing heat. The tyrant who had
inflicted so much suffering on others would not die easily. He clung viciously
to life.

Before Lord Hathannis could revive, however, Lannon
delivered the finishing stroke. Driven by the Eye, Lannon’s blade breached the
demon’s formidable barrier of dark sorcery and passed right through the pale
neck.

It was over. The demon quickly burned to black ash.

***

The demon was slain, but the spell that bound the others
did not fade. The wisps of fog were still wrapped around them, leaving them
unable to move or speak. They couldn’t even blink. And Prince Vannas was still
lost in his trance. He hadn’t moved a muscle the whole time Lannon had been
battling the demon, his gaze still fixed on the White Flamestone. Lannon
wondered how he could stand there with his hands cupped before him without
growing tired.

“Can you free the others?” Lannon asked Vorden.

“No,” Vorden replied. “My sorcery doesn’t
work that way.”

Lannon sighed. “We have three sorcerers here, and none
of us can break a dead demon’s spell.”

“I guess we stand guard and wait,” said Vorden.
“I know some of those Ghouls are still creeping about.”

“With their master slain,” said Jace, “I
doubt they will attack.”

Lannon sat at a table and worked on healing his ribs. He
was tired of getting injured and dealing with severe pain, but he kept battling
enemies of extreme power. He needed some easier foes for a change.

The others sat across from him. Everyone was hungry, with
the smell of spicy meat strong in the air—but they would not touch the food,
knowing it could be contaminated by the Deep Shadow.

“Sorry about your head wounds,” said Lannon,
sheepishly.

“Think nothing of it,” said Vorden. “You
were not in control. I’m just disappointed that you defeated me.”

“Yes, think nothing of it,” said Jace,
sarcastically. “What’s a little skull bashing between friends now and
then?”

Lannon was flooded with guilt, for he believed he would
have killed Vorden if Jace hadn’t distracted him for a moment. Lannon had been
fully prepared to bring the blade down. Would he have stopped himself at the
last moment? He would never know the answer to that, and it gnawed at him.

“I know what you’re thinking, Lannon,” said
Vorden, “because I feel it all the time. You wonder how you could have
behaved like a monster. I would like to tell you that you’ll get over the
guilt, but I never have—and I likely never will. You’re always going to regret
this.”