“Why did it help us?”
Abram shook his head. “I really don’t know, Whill. It may be that when it saw what you were doing to Tarren, it thought you were indeed an elf. The dragons and elves have a strange friendship, as you are aware. It has been less strong of late, since the creation of the Draggard by the Dark elf Eadon. But some loyalty still lies between them.”
Whill was at a loss for words. He couldn’t believe how they had all escaped such peril. And he still had not fully absorbed the fact that he had healed Tarren with energy. His head began to ache as he pondered the implications of such powers.
Abram again put his hand upon his shoulder. “Come, Whill, let’s get you something to eat. You’ve lost at least ten pounds in the last two days, or hadn’t you noticed? The slaves, it turns out, are from Eldon Island. The Eldonians are great fisherman and have caught quite a feast.”
Whill regarded the men at the opposite side of the boat. “They hold no animosity towards us? After all, we killed many of their people.”
“No, they do not blame us. They know we had no choice; we did what we had to do. On the contrary, they are grateful that we helped free them. Now come, and do not feel ashamed.”
Whill followed Abram to the rear of the ship and together they joined the Eldonian men. The men had caught a bundle of tuna, which Whill was eager to accept. Though he still felt awkward around them, he could not deny his hunger. He ate four bowls of the tuna as he listened to the Eldonians speak of their homeland. Eldon was a large island off the southern coast of Eldalon. In times of war it had been used as a lookout point. In the event that an attacking fleet was spotted, the people of Eldon would light great beacons atop the mountain peaks, which thus became known as the Burning Mountains. In return for their constant watch over the waters, the Eldonians received protection from the king of Eldalon, and were allowed to live the way they had for centuries. Fishermen by trade, they lived peacefully on their island and were thought by many to be a primitive people. They shunned many of the ways and practices of the mainland peoples and were content to live by their own customs.
Whill listened with admiration as an Eldonian man spoke of the ways of his people. “We want only blue skies and long lives; we are happy having what we need. The want for unnecessary material things leads only to envy and greed; wars are spawned from such ways of thought. We help the king of Eldalon because, in this day, it is a necessity for us to have his protection. We will defend our shores, if need be, but we would rather live in peace, as we were intended to.”
He paused and looked at Whill, who glanced away, uneasy. “When the pirates took us we were far out at sea, which is why Eldalon was not alerted to our dilemma,” the man went on. “We had been prisoners of those beasts for almost a full year. They attacked our ship and made us their slaves. Many of us they killed—not because we tried to revolt, but for their own enjoyment. The old, the weak, and the sick were disposed of quickly. They used our women...”
The man stopped, so filled with rage was he at the memory of their imprisonment. He took a deep breath and looked to the sky with tears in his eyes. “And then the captain told us about the two of you; he said that if we could kill you, he would let us go. So you see, we had to attack; though we knew you not, we saw you as our enemy—the only thing standing between us and freedom. In my heart I knew that Cirrosa would not hold true to his word, but we had no choice. We would have all surely died if it had not been for you, and for that we are grateful. Those who died attacking you did so with honor, and we begrudge you not for it.”
Whill did not know what to say. He knew the man was sincere and harbored no ill will for the slaves who died at their hands, but still he felt a deep guilt that seemed would never really be washed clean. He himself had never known his father… and now he had killed the fathers of many children. They had been good men, forced to fight. The thought of it all made Whill sick to his stomach. Hoping not to be thought rude, he excused himself from the eating circle and joined Tarren at the wheel.
“Hello, Master Whill, did dinner do you some good?” He wore the same wide smile with which he always regarded Whill.
“I’m no longer hungry, but I couldn’t feel worse.” He looked solemnly out over the waters. “Tarren, what do you remember of what happened on that ship? I mean, when I…when I helped you?”
Tarren’s face scrunched up in thought. “I remember pain, and falling. Then I saw nothing but blackness. Then your voice—you were angry—and a blue light.” His eyes were wide, and a new excitement entered his voice and demeanor. “And then I felt the strangest thing I’ve ever felt in my life, or call me a liar. It was like when you know it’s your birthday soon and you can’t wait, or when you’ve eaten way too much candy. Inside you feel like you might explode. It was like being in the center of a screaming crowd, but all of their excitement is inside your body. I felt no pain, and before I knew what had happened, your friend picked me up and told me to hide below.” He looked upon Whill with puzzlement and wonder. “How did you do it, Whill?
He put a hand atop the boy’s head. “I don’t know, Tarren. I don’t know.”
Chapter 10
Survivors
The night was cool, the ocean calm. The stars shone brightly in the heavens, untouchable diamonds of the night. To Whill it seemed that the ocean mocked the night sky, reflecting the stars with the same brilliance, but also making them dance and shimmer in a way that the sky never could. He stood at the bow, entranced, hands on the rail, mind drifting with the midnight sea. He was tired but not hungry. He needed rest but could not sleep among those he felt he had wronged. His legs, back, arms, and even his mind ached. He knew he had not fully recovered, and was not sure how soon he would. Yet, contemplating the length of time it would have taken Tarren to heal from his broken bones, Whill wondered how he himself had recovered so soon. Had the elf woman been real? Had she helped him along with some kind of magic—an energy healing of her own? Surely that was absurd, for they were hundreds of miles from Elladrindellia. She had been a dream figure and nothing more. But the more Whill thought of her, the more real she seemed. The way her hair hung low, her beautiful smile, her eyes….
Startled, as Abram put a hand upon his shoulder, Whill jumped back to reality and the cool night air.
“Sorry, Whill, I didn’t mean to disturb you. Are you alright?”
Whill let out a deep breath and gave Abram a weak smile. “I’m fine. I was just thinking.”
Abram gave him a pitying look. “Thinking of the Eldonian men? Whill, don’t beat yourself up; we had no choice in the—”
“No. Not about that. I was thinking of the elf woman I dreamed about last night.”
Abram looked puzzled. “What elf woman?”
Whill told him all about the dream in detail as Abram listened keenly. At the end of the story, Abram gave him a slight frown of puzzlement. “What was it she said to you?”
Whill thought for a moment. “Endalla orn, Whill, elan orna menon, lelalda wea shen ora. ‘Worry not, Whill, feel no pain, nothing can harm you.’ It was more like a chant, and when she said it, all pain left my body and I was at peace—more at peace than I have ever felt. I could not only see and hear her, I could feel her inside. I could feel her energy within me, pulsing, soothing. It felt so real.”
Abram regarded him, straight-faced. “It very well could have been real, Whill.”
Whill’s face lit up. To hear it from Abram gave the idea substance, made it seem like a real possibility.
“Elves have many powers that people do not, and will never understand,” Abram said. “It is quite possible that what you experienced was indeed real. She may have helped you to heal in much the way you helped Tarren. If nothing else, your fast recovery may be proof of it.”
Whill was baffled. “But I know her not. I have never even met an elf. Who was she, and why would she help me?”
Abram looked at him the same way he always did when asked this kind of question; Whill knew he held t
he answers, and also knew that he would not tell him. He looked at Abram with disappointment. “Let me guess: in the mountain.”
Abram sighed. “I am as tired of these secrets as you are. From your description I can only guess that she was one of Queen Araveal’s daughters. Which one I do not know, for they are all similar in appearance.”
Whill was not shocked to hear this; more so, he was relieved to hear an explanation at all. “So this woman—princess—she knows me?”
“She does, as does the queen. Why she does is part of a tale that must wait. It will be less than a week before we reach Dy’Kore. Be patient, my friend.”
Whill laughed a tired laugh. “I’ve waited nineteen years what’s another few days?”
Tarren sounded a small bell mounted above the wheel. “The island, I see it!”
Abram took over the wheel as the Eldonians hurried onto the deck. Whill watched as the island drew closer. Even now, at night, he could see the vast beach and forest beyond. Abram steered them into the Eldon Channel between the island and Eldalon. They sailed with Eldon to starboard for more than an hour, well into dawn. As the sun began to rise, the city of Do’Adore became visible. As they approached a large dock, where there was a fleet of small fishing boats, a great horn sounded from the trees; it was answered by another from within the city. Abram gently and masterfully steered the ship to the dock, and an Eldonian man secured a line.
The city was amazing. It had no great buildings, and no barrier separating it from the surrounding land. It consisted of thousands of large huts, each with smoke coming from a small chimney. The huts were identical, though some were larger than others. This, Whill had learned while listening to the Eldonian men speak of their village, was only due to the size of each family living within. Social status was not reflected in the size of one’s home, or in the things one might own. Each person had a purpose, and each purpose was vital to the survival of the people. Whill wondered why more people didn’t live in this manner. While others fought viciously over things they did not need—and in the end, brought them no lasting joy—the Eldonians lived in harmony with their surroundings, celebrating and sharing in good fortune, and mourning each other’s losses.
As the former slaves went down the ramp to the beach, they were greeted by their kin. Sobbing and laughing jubilantly, they hugged and kissed the family and friends who had thought them lost at sea.
Whill was reluctant to leave the ship, his guilt still weighing heavily on his heart. Abram came over to him. “Look, Whill, at the joy we have brought to so many people. If not for our actions, these people would never have returned. They would have died along with those other men. Don’t you see the good that has come from something so terrible? Those men would have died anyway, or been worked to death by Cirrosa and his men. If you had not won the tournament, Cirrosa would never have pursued us, and these people would not have a second chance at the life they love so. Everything happens for a reason, Whill. Take comfort in the joy you see before you.”
Whill knew Abram was right, and he told him so. Together with Tarren, they made their way onto the beach and were introduced by the Eldonians as great saviors of the sea. Blushing and feeling very uncomfortable, Whill nevertheless accepted hugs from the Eldonian women. Most were dressed in long hooded robes, due to the morning chill, but some wore only cloth covering their genitals. The men carried long thin spears, and some brandished swords.
The Eldonians insisted that they join them in a celebration meal. What Whill expected to be a small breakfast turned out to be a grand feast and celebration that lasted late into the day. By the time they were ready to leave, the sun was beginning to set. The surviving men and the chief walked them back to Old Charlotte, followed by what seemed to be the entire island population. As they approached the ship, the chief spoke.
“Once again, thank you for returning our people. We are forever in your debt and at your service. If ever you are in need, please, think of Eldon as an ally. You are welcome here eternally.” With that he bowed, as did the rest of the people of Eldon. Whill, Abram and Tarren bowed in return and made their way onto the ship. As they set sail once again, with Abram at the wheel, Whill and Tarren watched the people of Eldon wave happily after them. Night fell as the three companions sailed toward Sherna.
The deep blue sky had made way for a blackened one, and the stars awoke. They shone brightly in their heavenly realm, untouchable diamonds of the night. With the stars came a chill that rode on the whispering winds and clung to Whill’s bones like a long-lost love. Carrying an oil lantern, he went below to fetch his wolf-hide coat. It hung above his cot, which was now occupied by Tarren. The boy slept peacefully, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. But to Whill he appeared too peaceful, too still, as though death had come back to reclaim him—to fulfill a fate which had been altered. He nudged Tarren on the shoulder, and to his relief the boy rolled over, mumbling something inaudible.
Satisfied, he pulled a blanket up to the boy’s chin and retrieved his coat before silently returning to the deck. Abram was still at the wheel, sailing steadily east. Whill joined his friend, and for a while they stood in comfortable silence, sailing by moonlight. They were lucky to have the benefit of a full moon. Abram seemed mesmerized by its reflection upon the water, and more at peace than he had in a great while.
Noticing Whill staring at him, Abram simply smiled. “Is Tarren sleeping soundly?”
Whill turned his gaze to the water once more. “Out cold. He did have a long day.”
Abram laughed. “Didn’t we all. You should get some rest too. You must be tired, having not slept last night.”
Whill shook his head. “No, I’m not; I’m wide awake. I guess two days rest is enough for a while. I’ll take over for a bit, Abram; you haven’t slept either. I’ll wake you at dawn. If this wind keeps steady; we’ll be in Sherna well before noon. I’ll rest then.”
“Alright, Whill.” Abram gave him a pat on the back and stretched with a great yawn before heading to the sleeping quarters.
“Wait,” Whill said. “What do we do with Tarren? We can’t see him safely back to Fendale personally.”
Abram turned at the stair. “Do not forget we have a wealth of diamonds. Once in Sherna we will find a good woman to look after him until we return from the mountains. Then we will go to Kell-Torey to meet with the king. He will see to it that Tarren finds safe passage back to Fendale. Worry not, Whill.” With that, he disappeared below and left him alone with the moon and stars.
Whill took the wheel and once again let his mind drift with the waters. He thought of Tarren, and how amazing it still seemed that he had healed him. Only the elves had the power to heal with energy; if Whill was not of elven blood, then what could the explanation be? Also, if he could heal, what other powers did he possess? Could he also use his abilities to fight as they did? The ocean held no answers. Only within the mountains would Whill find any revelation.
As he sailed steadily east, the sun began to rise. The blackness of the night sky was replaced slowly by a dark blue. As the stars disappeared, the horizon glowed orange with hints of radiant pinks, reds, and purples. When the sun finally showed its face, it gleamed down upon the world with the magnificence and splendor of a god.
Whill secured the wheel and quickly went below to wake Abram. Though he meant not to, he woke Tarren as well. Soon the three friends were enjoying a simple breakfast of fish, gifts from the Eldonians. They passed the remaining time of their journey mostly answering Tarren’s candid questions.
As high noon approached and the mist parted, they could see the harbor of Sherna come into view. As it drew closer, Whill saw the distant snow-capped mountains beyond. The sight made his chest swell with excitement. Soon all his questions would be answered; all the secrets, revealed.
With Tarren’s help, Whill lowered the sail as Abram steered the ship into the small harbor. There were only seven vessels docked: six fishing boats and a small royal ship. Off the coast, the mother ship could be se
en rocking lazily with the waves. It was a battleship of the Eldalon navy. Whill could now see over a dozen Eldalon soldiers waiting on the dock. As Old Charlotte eased next to them, Whill threw a line to one of the soldiers, who quickly secured it to a worn post.
Abram lowered the small ramp and greeted the soldiers. “Beautiful day, no?”
The guards showed no expression. One stepped forward. “What business do you have in Sherna? Are you merchants?”
Abram’s usual patience seemed to desert him. “We are not merchants—we have no cargo but ourselves and our personal items. I am Abram, and that lad there is Tarren. The man next to him is Whill—of whom I’m sure you’ve heard, or vultures don’t eat red meat. We have had a long and tiresome journey from Fendale, and seek only a good day’s rest.”
The guards looked at one another, and the first man spoke again. “That man there—you say he is Whill? The one who beat Rhunis? But he is barely a man!” The guards all began to chuckle.
Whill went down the ramp, wearing a slight smile. Facing the guard, he looked him in the eye and let his smile fade. “It is true I beat Rhunis, and I have the diamonds to show for it—not to mention the king’s leave to travel all of Eldalon freely. And the man you see next to me, Abram, has not three days ago slain the menacing Captain Cirrosa—a feat that the great navies of Eldalon have failed to accomplish for a decade.”
The guard stared in wonder as Abram passed the other guard a scroll bearing the royal seal. Whill let his smile return. “Now would it be so much to ask for us to go on our way without more pestering? We have much to do and little time. Don’t be mistaken, I respect and admire the fact that you soldiers are far from your homes, serving your king and protecting these lands; but we are not enemies of Eldalon—we are forever its allies.”
The guard was left speechless. He simply looked Whill in the eye as if trying to sense whether he were lying. The other guard nodded that the seal was genuine. At last he said, “You say that Cirrosa is dead?”
Whill of Agora: Epic Fantasy Bundle (Books 1-4): (Whill of Agora, A Quest of Kings, A Song of Swords, A Crown of War) (Legends of Agora) Page 9
