Page 27 of Lion of Thunder (De Lohr Dynasty: Sons of de Lohr #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

H arker knew he was down here.

He had seen the de Lohr brothers dragging Olan out of the keep and across the bailey, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Many people had seen it and the soldiers were whispering about the situation at large. Since the House of de Lohr arrived, it seemed that Massington was riddled with mysteries. No one seemed to be able to get the full story.

But Harker knew.

And he knew what needed to be done.

The army had departed about an hour earlier, heading north to Hell’s Forge and the battle that awaited there. A battle that would have been completely preventable had it not been for a jealous knight and his turn to the dark side. But now that the army was gone and there was just one brother left with a small escort that would be returning to Lioncross Abbey on the morrow, or so he’d been told, it was time to carry out his plan.

It was time to right a wrong.

Harker had mostly stayed out of the way since the de Lohr army arrived. He had been very helpful and done as he’d been asked, but he hadn’t taken a lead role in anything because it had been clear from the start he hadn’t been needed. At first, that hurt his pride, but as the days went by, he was glad that he wasn’t responsible for what was going on. Harker had come to Massington so many years ago and had assumed a quiet post that he cherished. He was never meant for the bigger battles or the higher chains of command, so taking a secondary role in the situation at Massington had been right for him.

But there was something he wasn’t going to take a secondary role in.

And that was Olan.

He knew what Olan had done. He had seen it all. Although he never knew the man to be shifty or treacherous, he knew that Olan had a secretive underbelly that he liked to keep hidden. It was that secretive underbelly that came into the light when Olan had actively participated in betraying Westley de Lohr. The truth was that Harker felt greatly slandered by Olan’s behavior because Olan was under his command. And every commander was responsible for the behavior of his subordinates.

That meant Harker was responsible for Olan’s actions.

Not that anyone blamed him, because no one did. He had briefly seen Esther in the great hall, stealing a moment of private time with her where she had told him everything that had gone on since the de Lohr army’s arrival. She spoke of Westley’s return and Christopher’s health, things she had been privy to. That was how Harker knew everything that had been whispered about. But he wouldn’t spread rumors or participate in gossip. That wasn’t his style. But given what he knew, and everything he’d been told, he viewed Olan’s actions as a mark upon his record as the knight in command.

Olan’s stain was his stain.

He simply couldn’t stand for it. That was why he was heading over to the vault entrance at this very moment. The vault of Massington had been built under the gatehouse of the castle. The ground had been very rocky and hard, so the vault was uneven and narrow in places. Some du Nor ancestor had built the castle and Harker remembered Marius telling him once that building the vault had taken as long as building the castle itself because of the hardness of the ground.

These days, the vault was akin to the outer levels of hell because of its living conditions. It was cold and dank and, at some point, groundwater had seeped into it and created great blooms of mold on the walls and on the floor. Olan was down there, in the cell that was the least damp of all of them, with only a small torch on the outside of the cell for light. There wasn’t even a fire for warmth, though the man had a couple of woolen blankets for comfort.

But that was all.

And Harker didn’t feel bad about it.

In fact, he didn’t feel bad about anything that had to do with Olan, not even what he intended for the man, so he entered the gatehouse and went straight to the door that led down to the sublevels. The stairs were carved out of the rock and, due to the humidity in the vault, very slippery with growth that the soldiers cleaned off on occasion. There were nineteen steps from the top of the vault to the bottom, with a severe drop from the top of the flight to the ground below.

Harker stayed to the right side of the stairs where the wall was, his hand on the wall to steady himself as he made his way down. In his left hand, he carried an iron key for the lock on the cell doors. Once he reached the bottom, he took the torch from the wall and used it to light his way to the first cell, which was reached via a small, low-ceilinged corridor. It was isolated from the other cells and not in sight of the stairs.

As Harker drew near, the smell of human habitation hit him. So did the smell of rot. Peering into the cell, he could see the bucket for waste, damp straw over the ground, and a pile of old straw in the corner with blankets on it for a bed. Sitting atop the old straw and blankets, Olan turned his head slowly in Harker’s direction. Because of the dim light he’d been forced to sit in, he had to shield his eyes from the torchlight until they became accustomed to it. When he finally saw who it was, he gave a wry, toothless smile.

“What do you want?” he asked, muffled because of his torn-up mouth. “Have you come to finish what the de Lohr bastards started?”

Harker had no sympathy for the man he’d once considered a friend. “If it were up to me, they would have done worse,” he said. “When a knight turns bad, he taints everything around him. You tainted me, Olan. You have made them suspicious of me.”

“Nonsense,” Olan said. “Their anger is at me.”

“Whatever you did, I hope it was worth it.”

Olan shrugged. “Time will tell,” he said. “Why?”

“Because Westley has returned.”

That brought a reaction from Olan. He looked at Harker in shock. “How is that possible?” he gasped. “Fitz Walter would not let him escape!”

Harker remained emotionless. “He did not allow him to escape,” he said. “Elysande knew what you did and went to Hell’s Forge to free her husband. Your treachery, your jealousy, may very well bring her death. Now tell me how your betrayal was worth it.”

Olan’s toothless mouth popped open in shock. He staggered up from his straw bed, the blankets falling away as he made his way over to the rusted cell door.

“What is happening?” he said, bloody saliva spraying from his lips. “Is she still at Hell’s Forge?”

Harker was insulted at the level of concern Olan was showing. “What is it to you?” he said. “You caused this.”

“I caused it to de Lohr, not to her!”

“She has fallen in love with her husband,” Harker said, knowing Olan’s feelings for her, so it was a dig at the man. “Anyone could see that. Why else would she go to Hell’s Forge to secure his release?”

Olan was beside himself. He was sick, injured, and had been without any kind of care at all. His mouth was one giant blood clot. He only had three teeth left, on the bottom, and in the front. The vicious de Lohr brother had started with his molars, and Olan gave up any resistance toward the end. He should have given up at the beginning, but pride and a sense of righteousness had prevented him from doing so.

Now…

Now, he was a mess.

He had caused a mess.

“Oh, God,” he muttered, a hand to his head. “Ella is at Hell’s Forge, at the mercy of a madman. What has she done?”

Harker had had enough. He was growing increasingly disgusted watching Olan lament the situation. Putting the key in the lock, he turned the tumblers and yanked the cell door open.

“Come with me,” he said.

Olan looked at him in surprise. “Where are we going?”

Harker simply crooked a finger at him, luring him out of his cell. It didn’t take much, truthfully. Olan was ready to go. Without a word, Harker headed to the stairs with Olan close behind, skittish because he thought Harker was removing him from the cell with the intention of hiding him from the de Lohr brothers. Given that they had served together for so long, that would have been the right thing to do. They were comrades. They were even friends. Harker knew why Olan had done what he did and, in some small way, surely supported it. No one wanted to see Elysande married to that barbarian of a son of the Earl of Hereford.

Certainly not Olan.

They were heading up the treacherous stairs. Harker was in front and Olan was tucked in behind him, hiding from the light that was trickling in from above.

“Where are you taking me?” Olan asked. “If I am seen by anyone from the de Lohr family, they might throw you in the vault, too. You must hide me.”

Harker didn’t say anything until they neared the top of the stairs, when he suddenly came to a halt and faced Olan.

“I do not plan to hide you,” he said.

Olan looked at him curiously. “What do you plan to do?”

“Kill you.”

With that, he shoved Olan back by the face and the man had no chance to save himself. With the steep angle of the stairs and the severe drop to the floor below, he tumbled backward, striking his head. It knocked him out because the rest of the fall was as if he had no bones, flailing and flapping and smacking all the way to the bottom. He ended up falling off the bottom of the stairs, tumbling the last five or so feet to the hard ground below with his head twisted all the way around on his shoulders so he was facing backward.

Clearly dead, he lay in an unmoving heap at the bottom.

Slowly, Harker made his way down the steps until he was standing over Olan’s battered body. There was no remorse in his expression, no sense of loss, no hint of sorrow.

Just a cold, dead stare.

“When a knight goes bad, he reflects on the other knights around him,” he repeated quietly. “You have reflected on me badly. You have endangered the family you have sworn to protect. Most of all, you have created chaos at the place I love. The place I have spent most of my life at. I will protect Massington and its family at all costs, and this time, the cost is you. Consider your punishment to have fit the crime.”

With that, he headed up the stairs, his face upturned toward the light that was shining in the darkness. A light coming from the sun over Massington, illuminating the way for a man who had just dispensed justice.

And wasn’t the least bit sorry about it.

But he had other plans, too.

Before the hour was through, Harker of Kent packed his belongings and departed the gatehouse of Massington Castle, heading back to the land of his birth where he would find a good woman and have many sons. That was what he’d told Esther, once.

It was time for him to find his happiness.

Finally, he was going home.