Chapter 2:
The Battle Beneath the False Moon
Disposing of an army of dead Goblins was a terrible way to spend an afternoon. Fortunately for Prince Vannas, he was still dazed from the rock striking his head (or so it appeared), and he was allowed to sleep while everyone else did the work. The dead beasts were hauled by wagons to a suitable location and burned, leaving smelly smoke to drift over the land. Once the cleanup effort was complete, a funeral was held for the dead Knights and then their bodies were sent off to Dremlock Kingdom for burial. It was all very somber and exhausting.
Lannon couldn't deny that Bellis had accomplished its goal. He was left feeling weary, wondering yet again if Ollanhar Tower was worth defending. Aldreya never seemed to waver, but it was difficult to tell what she was really thinking. The newly appointed Green Knight of Ollanhar was an unyielding Birlote who would hide her true feelings and adhere to honor and duty at all costs. And while Lannon had no intention of surrendering, he was fearful of how far Bellis would go in trying to force them from the tower.
He feared for his companions, who were isolated from the protection of Dremlock's army and expected to deal with overwhelming odds. A few days before, Aldreya and Vorden had been attacked by poison arrows from a hidden foe as they walked a forest trail. Vorden had been struck, but his unnatural healing ability had allowed him to survive. The assassin had not been caught, and Lannon was certain he would strike again.
With all the hard work finished for the day, Lannon wandered from the mossy clearing alone and into the oak forest. He paused to glance back at the tower, which was framed against a sky that was streaked red by the late afternoon sun. Dallsa was preparing a late dinner, but Lannon wasn't hungry. He was restless, longing to wander alone with his thoughts.
Ollanhar was shadowy and bulky, filled with sinister sorcery and secrets left from the time of the Dark Watchmen. Lannon was now the master of that tower--the High Watchman of Ollanhar--and the ancient spirits that dwelt beneath the keep recognized his authority. But Dremlock did not. By the will of the Divine Kingdom, Aldreya was in charge of this outpost and Lannon was to obey her commands. It was an odd arrangement--the Green Knight ruling over the High Watchman. In fact, Ollanhar had never had a Green Knight before. The position had been created so that Lannon would have to answer to Aldreya. He usually didn't mind her being in command, but lately she had grown more rigid and demanding, and he found himself disagreeing with many of her decisions.
Lannon walked the wooded trail between the massive oaks, the shadows deep around him and the animal life quiet. A chill had crept into the air. As he rounded a curve, he encountered a dark figure standing in the trail. Lannon's hand clamped around his sword hilt, but the Eye of Divinity revealed this to be one of the Blue Knights who patrolled the outskirts of the tower grounds.
His name was Merrick Nightborn, a lean Tree Dweller who possessed Ranger skills. "Greetings, Master Lannon," he said, bowing.
Lannon nodded in return. It still felt strange to be called Master, especially by a Knight who was a few years older than Lannon.
Merrick was concealed beneath dark blue clothes and armor, with only his face exposed, and he easily blended with the shadows. "I sense something dangerous lurking about, though I've not glimpsed it. It could be a Goblin, or another assassin. I would advise staying out of the woods except in daylight."
"I'm on my way to check on the town," said Lannon, referring to a shop and an inn recently built in the hill country beyond the oak grove.
"It's doing fine," said Merrick. "The Goblins never bothered it. I guess they were too busy focusing on the tower."
Lannon already knew this, but he felt like visiting the town anyway. He was too restless to return to Ollanhar. "Very well, but I'm going there anyway to have a drink. Thank you for the warning."
"Perhaps I should accompany you, Master Lannon," said Merrick. "As I said, I sense danger lurking about."
"I can look after myself," said Lannon.
"Of course," said Merrick. "But it is my duty to guard your life, and in light of the recent assassination attempt on our Green Knight..."
"I understand," said Lannon, "but I will continue on alone." If some foe was creeping around, Lannon could find him with the Eye, and he didn't want any distractions. And the Blue Knights always seemed on edge, believing that assassins were lurking everywhere--though seldom did any turn up.
Merrick bowed. "Have a pleasant evening, Master Lannon." With that, the young Knight moved past him and continued down the trail.
Lannon sent forth the Eye of Divinity and scanned the forest for danger, but saw nothing except a common Tree Goblin watching from a lofty branch. The tiny Goblin was no threat to Lannon, and he moved on.
He came to Ollanhar Stable--a long wooden building nestled amongst the trees-- and paused by the door to listen, but all was quiet within. There was an armed guard on duty at all times who watched over the Greywind horses, and Lannon peered inside to find him sleeping in a chair, an ale jug in his lap. With a whistle, Lannon woke the guard--a bearded Red Knight who leapt out of his chair at the sight of the High Watchman--and warned him there could be danger in the woods. The embarrassed guard vowed to stay awake, and Lannon left.
Soon he emerged from the trees and into the grassy hill country. In a small valley between the hills nearby stood the shop and the inn. There were also three other stone and wood foundations for buildings that had yet to be completed. This town, which was named Tower Haven, was protected by forty of Dremlock's Knights--led by the Grey Dwarf known as Daledus Oakfist--who were ordered to remain there at all costs. Their tents stood amongst the buildings.
As Lannon approached the town, evening was settling quickly about the land. Some of the Knights on guard duty greeted him as he walked between the tents. Sounds of merrymaking came from the Inn--including a roar that surely had to come from the throat of Daledus Oakfist. Lannon smiled.
The Greenhill Inn was nearly complete, with only a few rough spots here and there that needed attention. It was a two-story building with a large tavern on the first floor and rooms for rent on the second. The tavern was lit by firelight and lanterns. As Lannon passed between the oak tables, the Divine Knights greeted him warmly, raising mugs of ale.
Daledus stood at the bar talking to the Dwarven innkeeper--involved so deeply in a loud and animated conversation that he failed to hear the others greet Lannon. Amused, Lannon approached quietly and pinched his shoulder.
Daledus slammed his ale mug down and whirled around, scowling, eager for a fight. Then his expression softened. "Master Lannon," he bellowed. "Welcome to my inn."
Lannon chuckled. "So you've claimed the inn as your own. Or maybe just the tavern and its ale barrels? Why am I not surprised?"
Daledus grinned. "That's right--I lay claim to it unless any man can trade punches with me and stay standing." He raised his meaty fist to Lannon's chin.
Lannon seized the fist and lowered it. "I'm not here to spar, Daledus. I had enough of that with King Verlamer. The inn is yours, my friend. I came here simply for a drink and to get away from that tower."
Daledus nodded, looking grim. "I don't blame you one bit, Lannon. I couldn't spend an hour in that cursed place." He turned to the innkeeper. "Our best ale for the High Watchman. He fought well today, so I hear." Some of the other Knights cheered in agreement.
"Just milk," Lannon said quickly, his mind flashing back to his father. The old man had consumed ale all day long, as empty jugs piled up around his bony legs. Because of that dreary memory--and others like it from his unhappy childhood--Lannon typically refused to drink any liquor.
"Milk it is," muttered the innkeeper, pouring Lannon a large mug of it. "Nice and fresh, brought in this morning--good and cold from the ice box."
"But it's not ale," said Daledus, with a look of contempt.
The innkeeper shrugged. "The High Watchman gets what he asks for."
Daledus Oakfist was a powerful Grey Dwarf. He typica
lly wore heavy armor and carried an oversized--almost absurd--battle axe, but on this night he wore only a green tunic and brown trousers. He had bushy sideburns, and a bushy beard, that he took great pride in. Like all Grey Dwarves, his hair and thick beard were naturally dark and his eyebrows drooping. He had a large nose that did not bleed easily in a fight and a jaw that seemed impervious to being broken.
The milk was indeed cold and fresh. Lannon savored it in silence for a moment, but Daledus was never one to keep still for long.
"Heard the leader escaped," he said. "Is that true?"
"The man on horseback?" asked Lannon, thinking back to the dark rider who had nearly killed Aldreya with his axe. "Yes, he retreated and vanished."
"What a shame," said Daledus. "I hope he comes to my little town, so I can put an end to him. One who consorts with Goblins deserves to die."
"He is a powerful foe," said Lannon. "And I'm fairly certain he will return at some point. I believe Bellis has appointed him the leader in the war against Ollanhar. Whoever he is, he intends to drive us from the tower."
Daledus smirked. "I also heard Aldreya is now the Green Knight over there. It seems Dremlock changed its mind about you being in charge--once Cordus Landsaver retired, that is. With Taris as the Lord Knight of Dremlock, I guess it was inevitable that a Birlote would be in charge of Ollanhar."
There was no Knight that Lannon respected more than Taris Warhawk, and he felt compelled to defend his character. "I'm sure Taris had a good reason for making Aldreya the leader."
"Sure," Daledus said quietly. "It's Birlote politics. Always before it was the High Watchman who was in charge of Ollanhar. Everyone knows that. But Taris has to appease the Birlotes of Borenthia if Dremlock wants them to remain friendly. Come on now, Lannon. You know it's true."
Lannon shrugged. Daledus was probably correct, but Taris was a sorcerer of unsurpassed wisdom and Lannon was not about to question his decisions. "I'm fine with things as they are."
"Of course you are," said Daledus. "Because you're a nice fellow willing to take it on the chin to keep everyone happy. You should speak up now and then, though. Stand up for yourself."
"I'll keep that in mind," Lannon mumbled.
"By the way," said Daledus, "I hunger for adventure. I miss being part of the Divine Shield and roaming the land. If anything comes up, let someone else defend this town. I want to go with you."
"Of course," said Lannon. "I'd be happy to have you at my side, my friend. You're one of the strongest warriors I've ever known."
Daledus nodded. "Good," he muttered in a low voice, "because the men in here have had about enough of me. Bunch of thin-skinned Noracks, always offended over everything. An opinionated Dwarf is too much for these weaklings to handle. You Noracks are a strange lot. Won't take advice unless you ask for it. Always worried about someone's tone of voice or expression, or even worse--their politeness!" He slammed his fist down on the bar. "I tell you, Lannon, it makes me want to punch a man straight in the jaw for whining about this or that. But better to have a drink so as not to leave a grown man crying from a broken nose and shame himself..." He guzzled some ale, losing some of it down his beard.
Lannon took a quick sip of milk.
"So when do we depart?" Daledus asked.
Lannon shrugged. "Unfortunately, right now I think we're stuck at Ollanhar. Things aren't like they used to be."
"You never know," said Daledus. "A new day could bring anything."
Lannon didn't respond, preferring to enjoy his milk in silence. He too found himself longing for adventure, but he guessed that a new day would bring more of the same--defending Ollanhar from Bellis. Yet in the back of his mind he kept thinking of the dark rider and hearing the words: "You don't recognize me, Lannon Sunshield. Doesn't my voice sound familiar to you?"