Knights: Legends of Ollanhar (22 page)

Chapter
12:

The Giant of Callaboren

With some help from the Eye of Divinity, Lannon and Doomar
managed to avoid the Hill Dwarves. It wasn't easy, though, as the forest was
bustling with enraged Malrogs on the hunt. Lanterns and torches bobbed amongst
the tree trunks, and the two escapees had to keep moving to dodge the lights.
Whenever the two thought it was safe to take a rest and perhaps even sleep a
bit, the Malrogs would close in on them and they were forced to flee.

By the next morning, Doomar began to feel ill and his pace
slowed considerably. He kept clutching his stomach and groaning. They had to
stop frequently to rest. Finally Doomar lay down in the leaves, refusing to go
on.

"What's wrong?" Lannon asked. He had assumed
Doomar was suffering from too much exertion and too little sleep, but now he
wondered if something more serious was going on. The Dwarf looked wretched, his
face pale and twisted with pain, and he was breathing hard.

Doomar didn't answer, so Lannon asked again.

"Poison," Doomar said at last. "I'm certain
of it. When I was in the dungeon, the guard must have put something in my food.
He despises me for killing the warrior who tried to lock me in irons. They all
hate me now."

"But why poison you?" asked Lannon. "They
were going to execute you anyway." This was grim news. For all his
abilities, Lannon couldn't cure poison (at least as far as he knew).

"My execution wasn't certain," said Doomar.
"The guard must have wanted to make sure I was finished off one way or
another. But I have a strong constitution. I can survive this, if I can just
get to my home. I need good food, clean water, and some bed rest. My body will
heal on its own."

"I'll have to carry you," Lannon said
reluctantly. He was very weary, but what choice did he have? "How far are
we from your village?"

Doomar shrugged. "I'm not sure exactly where we are.
We traveled so far in the dark that I lost my way."

They were still surrounded by wooded hills. If Doomar was
wrong, it would be quite easy for them to walk in a big loop and end up deep in
enemy territory again. But Lannon had dealt with a similar situation before,
when he had been lost in Old Hill Forest and pursued by the dead.

"I have an idea," said Lannon. "If I can
glimpse your village from here, I can lead us there. But I need to know what to
look for."

Doomar nodded. "Look for an ancient wooden guard
tower. It should be rising high above the trees on a hilltop. It marks the edge
of my village. It is a structure left from the days when the Malrogs made war
on others."

"I'll need to find a tall hill," said Lannon,
"with a tall tree."

It didn't take them long to locate a worthy hill. Lannon
climbed to the top of a towering beach tree. It took him several moments to
find the guard tower, as it was far in the distance and just barely visible in
the haze. But once he spotted it, the Eye locked onto the target and would not
forget.

Lannon climbed down again. He lifted the Dwarf over his
shoulder. Doomar groaned. "Stay strong," Lannon told him. "I'll
have you there soon." Telling such a massive Dwarf to
stay strong
sounded ridiculous to Lannon's ears.

They set off again.

After hours of uneventful travel, they crossed a stone
bridge webbed in vines. The bridge spanned a wide, rocky river. Colorful cliffs
that blended with the fall leaves rose up from the forest. The bridge led them
out of the Malrog lands and into a region where the Malrogs seldom ventured.
They were certain they had escaped the Hill Dwarves. They took a celebratory
rest before moving on again.

It was late in the afternoon, and as they journeyed through
the rocky forest beyond the river, the shadows deepened around them. Lannon had
been hoping they would reach Doomar's home by nightfall, but it now seemed
quite unlikely. Doomar was still sick (and currently unconscious) and Lannon
was exhausted from carrying the heavy Dwarf. And though they had eaten a few
small meals of plants that day, the gnawing hunger remained.

The Eye of Divinity eventually led them onto a winding
road. Lannon could see log cabins here and there. They passed a tavern called
The
Duck Overlord
that displayed a huge statue of, of course, a duck. The duck
wore an iron helm and held a spear in its beak.

 
Lannon woke Doomar
and revealed what he saw.

"We're not far from my home," said Doomar.
"This tavern lies just outside the town of Callaboren."

"The Duck Overlord?" Lannon asked, raising his
eyebrows.

"Excellent little tavern," said Doomar.
"They serve wonderful duck soup called The Overlord's Delight. Very
peaceful place."

"Why a duck?" asked Lannon.

"It's a great symbol of the warrior," said
Doomar. "Didn't you know that? When the duck is with you in battle, you
never need to duck." He passed out again and broke into loud snores.

Still baffled, Lannon moved on. Had Doomar been babbling
nonsense? Lannon wasn't sure. But the possibility that he was close to the
Dwarf's home invigorated him, and he picked up the pace.

***

Doomar's house was on the very edge of town, in the woods.
It was a tall dwelling with a long shed attached to it. It was a strange home.
Twisted iron masks decorated the trees in the yard, leering at Lannon like
demon faces, and iron gnomes holding gardening tools stood in flower beds in
gleeful poses. The large, oaken front door featured a brass doorknocker shaped
like an Ogre's hideous face. Doomar no longer had a key, but Lannon used the
Eye to unlock the door.

The house's interior was as strange as the yard. The oak
walls of the living room were adorned with deliberately ugly, oversized Dwarven
weapons and more odd-looking iron masks. Bizarre metal statues stood in the
corners--skeletons fused together and bearing horrified expressions, bleeding
serpents winding around each other, and a tall pillar adorned with tortured
faces, gargoyles, and reaching hands. Lannon had seen this style of art
before--at Dremlock. It was called Old Garthane, and it was somewhat
controversial at the holy kingdom. But Doomar's art seemed even more dark,
sinister, and strange, leading Lannon to wonder what sort of tormented thoughts
lurked in the deepest reaches of the Dwarf's mind.

Lannon laid Doomar on a couch. The Dwarf's eyes were half
open, and Lannon wasn't sure if he was asleep. Lannon found some matches and
got a fire crackling in the stone fireplace. He then found some ingredients for
a stew--along with bread and cheese--and soon had a kettle boiling on the
stove.

The two ate heartily, though Doomar struggled to keep his
food down. Eating seemed to aggravate his stomach all the more, but Doomar
insisted that he needed food to recover.

"I especially need meat," said the Dwarf.
"Perhaps tomorrow you can journey into town for me and purchase some beef.
Fatty meat invigorates Dwarves and makes it easier for us to fight off illnesses."

Lannon hadn't actually planned to stay very long, as his
companions were continuing on without him. But he couldn't leave Doomar in such
a grim condition. "I'll need some money," he said.

"I have money," said Doomar. "No need to
worry about that. But there is something you do need to worry about. A giant
plagues this town, a wretched bully sent by Bellis to rule over us. The people
of Callaboren hate him, but are also terrified of him. He demands taxes we
cannot afford to pay and constantly harasses people. Those who challenge him
are snapped in two like sticks."

"A Thallite?" asked Lannon.

Doomar nodded. "He stands at least a dozen feet tall.
I've wanted to do battle with him more than once, but it would have been
suicide. I've seen powerful men lifted into the air and heard their bones snap.
It was sickening." The Dwarf shuddered. "Not even you would dare
oppose him, Lannon. Just avoid him if possible. If he gives you an order,
obey."

Lannon frowned. "I suppose it depends on the
order." A Thallite was an extremely dangerous foe, even when matched
against a Dark Watchman. Lannon had no desire to battle the giant, but he
wasn't necessarily willing to obey an unjust order simply for the sake of
peace.

Doomar shook his head. "Don't do it, Lannon. You're stronger
than any Norack or Dwarf, but we're talking about a giant here. He will crush
you into pudding, my friend." Doomar got so agitated that he went into a
coughing fit. When he was done, he sighed deeply. "Perhaps you better not
go."

"I'll go," said Lannon. "And if possible, I
will avoid a fight. I'm not the type to antagonize someone."

"It doesn't matter," said Doomar. "The giant
will antagonize
you
, if he's so inclined. But if you stay quiet and
humble, you should be able to avoid his wrath. If he demands a tax, pay it.
I'll give you extra."

Lannon nodded. "I will do my best to preserve peace in
Callaboren. Just finish your meal and get some rest, Doomar."

***

The next day, Lannon left Doomar's home with a bag of
silver. The town of Callaboren was large enough that Bellis had taken an
interest it, with many streets lined with shops, inns, and taverns. The
townsfolk mostly consisted of dark-skinned people known as Aramats--forest
dwellers who had once been bitter enemies of the Malrogs. They were kind, noble,
and intelligent and took great interest in science and mathematics. They
worshipped forest gods in large stone temples located in the wooded hills
beyond their town.

The Aramats were exceedingly friendly, greeting Lannon with
smiles and nods as he walked the streets. They wore colorful robes. The men
were bald and the women had orange braids. Lannon found the village to be very
pleasant--except for a nervous feel that hung in the air, no doubt the result
of the giant's presence. Some of the townsfolk whispered to each other as they
glanced at him.

Then one of the women stopped before him--a girl in her
late teens with a worried look. She brushed her orange braids from her eyes,
peering at Lannon with dire concern. She spoke to him in a strange language.

Lannon summoned the Eye, and her words were revealed.

"You seem to be wandering," she said. "An
outsider wandering aimlessly is sure to attract suspicion from the giant
Gralladus. If you need directions, just ask. Can you understand what I'm
saying? This town is no longer safe, because of Bellis Kingdom. You could get
killed here."

Lannon nodded. "Thanks for the advice."

She shook her head. "I don't understand Norack speech.
Many Aramats do, but I never learned it. I suppose I never had the patience to learn
it. But I'm glad you understand me. So what are you seeking here?"

"Beef," he said. When she didn't respond, he
said, "Cow."

She shook her head.

Lannon drew a cow in the dirt, then pretended to lift it to
his mouth. "Cow," he said, pointing at it. "Meat."

"Meat," she repeated, in his language. "I do
know that word. There is a butcher shop down that street." She pointed.
"It is good that you have a purpose here. If you encounter Gralladus,
explain your mission and then do as he says."

Lannon nodded. He gave her a smile.

She smiled back, but still looked quite concerned.

It was a sunny fall day, with the smell of wood smoke
drifting through the town. Lannon would have loved to wander around and learn
more about Callaboren and its people, but Doomar was waiting for his beef.

Stone buildings adorned with vines and colorful, sacred
symbols stood amongst the houses and shops. Each building displayed a
"face" in the form of a single towering mask on one wall (usually on
the wall that faced the street). Some of these faces were painted with bright
colors, while others were entirely silver. Round doorways led into the
buildings, and the smell of incense drifted out. Towering wooden statues of
beasts that looked human from the waist down also stood here and there--some
with hawk-like heads and others with the heads of bears, wolves, or fish.
Baskets of fruit and bread lay at their feet.

As Lannon started down the street toward the butcher shop,
he happened upon Gralladus the giant. The towering figure was seated in the
road, feasting on a basket of turkeys. His face and fingers were dripping with
grease, and he periodically lifted a huge wooden mug of beer to his lips. His
icy blue eyes were full of arrogance. He wore fancy, colorful clothes, with his
red tunic displaying the golden Crest of Bellis on the chest. A tattoo of a
crimson sun adorned the giant's bald head. He was so massive he seemed to block
off the street.

Lannon paused. The giant didn't seem to take notice of him.
The townsfolk had abandoned this street, and Lannon could have slipped away
like the others and waited for the giant to move on. But he was in a hurry.

Lannon entered the shop.

He purchased the beef--which cost a bit more than Doomar
had anticipated--and then returned to the street. The giant was still eating
turkey and drinking beer. Lannon glanced at him, then started off.

"You there, halt!" came a rumbling command.

Lannon turned around. "Can I help you?" He had
almost made it, and he chastised himself for not moving faster.

The giant nodded. "You're an outsider, obviously.
That's a fine side of beef you have there. Should make you a tasty meal. But
there are taxes to be paid in this town whenever a purchase is made. Such taxes
are not paid to the shopkeepers--they are paid to me. I am the official tax
collector here, as authorized by King Verlamer of Bellis."

Lannon sighed. "How much do I owe?"

"It's simple," said the giant. "Taxes are
thirty percent of the purchase cost. I assume you can do math. If not, I'll
calculate it for you."

Lannon shook his head in disgust. "Thirty percent?
Those are hardly fair taxes. How can anyone afford anything in this town?"