Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) by Robert E. Keller

undergone a
lot of remodeling since Dremlock’s Knights had moved in, with paintings and
suits of armor displayed here and there and comfortable rugs on the stone
floors. It now resembled one of the great towers of Dremlock on the inside—but
this tower lay under a shadow of darkness. Evil sorcery from the age of the Dark
Watchmen infested the keep, leading to dreary nightmares and other unpleasant
happenings. Lannon was used to the strange events—the groaning and shuffling
noises from behind the walls, the laughter and whispers that one could just
barely hear, the chills that crept over the flesh. The Deep Shadow was always
trying to assert its control, but the Knights of Dremlock knew how to resist
it.
    Lannon moved down to the fourth floor—to storage rooms
filled with crates, sacks, and barrels. Each room in Ollanhar had a high
ceiling, which seemed like a foolish design. It meant the tower had a lot of
empty space. Lannon guessed there had once been a good reason for this, but he
couldn’t imagine what it was, and the Eye of Divinity failed to reveal the
answer.
    The Dining Room lay on the third floor. Seated at the stone
tables were members of the Council of Ollanhar: Furlus, Jace, Fadar Stonebow
(who had recently been appointed to the Council), Aldreya, Prince Vannas,
Bekka, Lothrin, Jerret, and Galvia. Dallsa, who was serving bread, cheese, and
drinks, smiled when she saw Lannon walk down the stairs, her face lighting up.
      Furlus
Goblincrusher sat at the head of the table—the strongest Grey Dwarf in all the
land and a famed Tower Master of Dremlock. He was second in command of the
Divine Kingdom and a master of warfare. His dark beard was as wide as the
table, his grizzled face sullen in the sunlight that streamed in through the
window. He liked to present his best appearance at meetings, and so he wore
heavy Glaetherin armor and a huge battle axe was strapped to his back.
    “Greetings, Lannon,” said Furlus, giving the High
Watchman a nod. “Good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?”
    Lannon bowed. “Good to see you as well, Master Furlus.
I’m feeling much better, actually. And I have Jace to thank for saving my
life.”
    “Nonsense,” said Jace. He paused to light his
pipe and then added, “You were holding your ground when I happened
along.” The sorcerer was a true giant by Norack standards—standing a
half-inch shy of seven feet tall with huge shoulders and hands. In spite of
being two centuries old, Jace retained a youthful appearance—his broad face
smooth and his black, curly hair containing no hint of grey. His eyes held a
twinkle of great intelligence—and perhaps a bit of insanity.
    “ Holding my ground? ” mused Lannon, shaking
his head. He sat down next to Aldreya. “Hardly. I think I was pretty much
done for.”
    “Don’t underestimate yourself,” said Jace,
sending a piercing gaze his way. “In the most desperate moments, the Eye
of Divinity is at its best.”
    “I’ll take your word for it,” said Lannon, not
caring to argue the point (though he wasn’t convinced in the least).
    “Regardless,” said Furlus, “you’re on the
path to recovery, and Dremlock can breathe a big sigh of relief. I strongly
suggest you avoid traveling alone. In fact, I’m tempted to order another Divine
Shield placed around you.”
    Lannon groaned. “Not another Divine Shield. Surely
you’re joking.” He had come to love his freedom, and the thought of being
under guard night and day—everywhere he went—did not appeal to him in the
slightest.
    Furlus chuckled. “You’re the High Watchman now,
Lannon. You would have to approve of such a measure. And, yes, I’m only
speaking in jest. I think you’re quite capable of looking after yourself,
however you see fit.”
      Aldreya frowned.
“I’m not as confident as you are, Furlus. I don’t mean to question
Lannon’s skill, but that was a dire situation in the forest. Lannon could
easily have met his doom.”
    Lannon told