Dark Echoes of Light

by Michael James Ploof

  “Alright, I be in agreement then,” said Roakore.

  “Any matter,” said Zerafin, “Whill and I will be going through tomorrow to speak with our respective councils. If you would like to discuss this matter with your fellow kings, Roakore, then you should come with us.”

  Roakore had not wanted to tell the other kings about having to retreat from the mountain, let alone talk to them about it in person. But now that the chance had been given to him to do so, it was his duty to go and speak with them about it. “Aye,” he said to Zerafin gruffly. “Thanks for the invite.”

  Chapter 19

  A Dark Gift

  Orrian had left the confines of his room, but his body remained. He floated upon the winds of the ether, gliding through the halls of the castle like a ghost. He stopped when he heard Dirk’s voice, and slowly he crept through the wall to the library. Larson Donarron was there with him again, and they were speaking about Whill’s coming arrival. Orrian was intrigued, and he floated in closer, but a sudden streak of blue light caught his attention, and Chief came zipping through the wall and bumped into Orrian’s astral body. Dirk and Larson glanced over at Chief, and Orrian thought it best to get the spirit wolf out of there before Dirk started asking questions. He nudged Chief and flew through the wall with the wolf in tow.

  They haunted the halls for a time, zipping through rooms and playing tag. Orrian liked the spirit wolf, and more than once it had occurred to him to steal the trinket from Dirk. With it, he knew, one could summon not only Chief, but several other spirits as well.

  He was about to tell Chief that he was done playing and that he had to return to his body, when he saw another astral form. He froze, and suddenly, overwhelming fear consumed him.

  “He’s coming!” he heard himself scream in his room upstairs, for he could feel his body sitting up in bed and screaming the words. Over and over he screamed the words, and fear like a whip suddenly pulled Orrian back to his body. He flew through the ceiling and into his room, but was suddenly caught by a writhing black tentacle before he could fall back into his body.

  Orrian’s astral body, indeed his spirit, was crushed with such awesome, overwhelming pressure that he thought he might implode. The weight bearing down on him was not a physical weight, but rather a mental and spiritual weight. Anger, darkness, death—they all came crashing down on him. It was a power so colossal, so terrible, that Orrian knew not how to even begin to fight it. In the face of such godly doom, he felt naked and weak, waiting to be devoured.

  A face of black flames glared down at him. There was no castle, no earth, and no sky; there was only the face in the flames.

  “I will show you power beyond your greatest dreams,” said the darkness. “I will show you the inevitable truth.”

  Orrian tried to scream as the world came rushing back to him. He saw the bed, and he saw his body upon it. To his horror, he watched as the dark flames receded to a single snaking form and floated across the room toward his body. Still frozen by the terrible force, Orrian watched helplessly as the writhing black flames wriggled into his mouth before disappearing down his throat.

  Now, I will show you the truth, said the darkness.

  “He’s coming! He’s coming! He’s coming!”

  “Orrian!” said Krentz, shaking him.

  He opened his eyes and stared at her, not remembering who she was.

  Kill her, said a voice in his head. He froze, knowing it was HIS voice. He felt the darkness inside, the cold, endless, beckoning darkness.

  “Orrian, are you alright?”

  Kill her!

  “No!” Orrian screamed, grabbing Krentz by the shoulders and squeezing. Tears streamed down his face and he clung to her. “He’s insi—”

  Something choked him from inside, squeezing his throat with icy fingers. He felt his mind being overwhelmed by the terrible force.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, though he had not chosen to speak the words. Shocked as he was, his voice remained steady and sure. “I just need to rest. Please, Krentz. Leave me for a while.”

  She regarded him with concern. “I might be able to help, I can try to—”

  “No,” he said forcibly. “Please do as I have asked.”

  She had more to say, but nodded and left his bedside. She glanced back at him at the threshold. “Open or closed?”

  “Closed…please.”

  She left him lying in the dark, and he tried to scream for her to return.

  “It is no use,” came that terrible voice, and a tall elf stepped into view.

  “Eldarian.” Orrian gasped, for he realized that he knew the elf standing before him; he knew him as well as he knew himself. He saw the battle those thousands of years ago with the Lord of Darkness and Death. He saw Eldarian’s victory and his imprisonment by the gods. He felt the anger, frustration, betrayal, and hatred that had fueled Eldarian’s endless screams as they echoed off the wall of his prison for thousands of years. Orrian saw too the birth and death of worlds, moons, and suns; he saw the cycle of life and death play out in his mind’s eye, and he was humbled.

  “You see, don’t you? You see that it is inevitable. It is neither good nor bad; it is only the way of things. The way of the gods. This world must die so that another might be born in its place.”

  “Why can’t it remain?” said Orrian, grieving for the world that he knew and loved. “Surely there is enough space among the stars for another world.”

  “There are indeed other worlds, as there always have been, as there always will be. But this one has come to the end of its cycle, and so it, like all things, must pass on the spark of life.”

  A vision flashed in Orrian’s mind, one of himself standing before a crowd of people in the glorious sunlight.

  “The humans of his new world will need a leader. This leader will have many wives and many sons, and he will be known as the first great king of men.”

  Tears streamed down Orrian’s face as he beheld the grand illusion.

  “I could use you like a puppet,” said Eldarian. “But I would rather you serve me of your own free will. For I see greatness in you, Orrian.”

  His instinct was to fight, but how did one fight the inevitable? Orrian felt again the power, knowing that it could be his. He needed only say the words. From the ashes of the old world, he could help to build the new. He would be the king of kings, the first ruler of the new world. His would be a world in which humans thrived. No longer would they cower to the power of the other races.

  “What would you have me do?” Orrian asked, bowing before Eldarian.

  “I would have you stand and receive my gift of power.”

  Shakily, Orrian rose to his feet before the god-like elf. Eldarian reached out a glowing hand, and the dark energy that had snaked its way into Orrian’s soul surged, filling him with untold power.

  Chapter 20

  The Portals

  The five portals that led to Agora sat upon a hilltop halfway between Rhuniston and New Cerushia. Whill led Zerafin, Roakore, and the others up the hill, disassembling the incantations as he went. They stopped before the wide portals, which were housed in stone and embedded with many crystals and glyphs. With a long string of spell words, Whill brought each of the portals to life. The crystals burned brightly, and the glyphs began to glow. Slowly, the open space within each portal began to shimmer and crackle with power, and the faint images of Agora could be seen in the dancing light.

  “Look a lot like Eadon’s gates,” said the dwarf, holding tight to Silverwind’s reins.

  “In many respects, they are,” said Whill.

  “How in the hells ye figure out how to make one o’ these?”

  Whill ignored the question, for he didn’t even want to begin to explain his strange new powers. “It’s a long story,” said Whill. “But I assure you, it is safe.”

  “Alright,” said Roakore, pulling up his trousers. “Come on, lads.”

  He and his two sons stepped through the portal leading to the Ro’Sar Mountain
s and disappeared.

  “Wish me luck with the elder council,” said Zerafin as he approached the portal leading to Cerushia.

  “Good luck,” said Whill. “I will see you shortly.”

  Zerafin nodded and walked through the shimmering portal.

  Whill stepped through the portal leading to Uthen-Arden. He hardly noticed the transition, so used to such travel was he. When once traveling by portal had been sickening to the stomach, even painful, now it was as easy as walking through a door out into the sunlight.

  He came out on a hill a few miles north of Del’Oradon, and the guards there jumped when he walked through.

  “At ease, men,” said Whill.

  “Sire…er, Mr. Warcrown, sir,” one of the guards stammered.

  “I trust that it has been quiet.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the guard. “This side of the portal has been clear.”

  “Good work, men. Keep it up.”

  To the south he could see the city, his city, the city of his forefathers, and he could see the castle that he had handed over to the people’s government.

  “Why did I ever allow Dirk Blackthorn to become the ruler of Uthen-Arden,” he wondered aloud.

  Five minutes later, Whill landed before the castle gates, and upon seeing him, the guards were quick to clear the way.

  “Bring me to Governor Blackthorn,” he said to the closest guard.

  “Yes, sire,” said the guard, addressing him as though he were still the king, as many of the soldiers did. He knew that to them, he was still the king, and he did not dislike their loyalty.

  He was led to the dining hall, where Dirk, Krentz, and Princess Mary Ellen were enjoying a quiet dinner.

  “I don’t mean to intrude, I can wait—” he said, seeing that they were dining.

  “Whillhelm Warcrown,” said Dirk, rising from his chair with arms wide. “Blessed is my table, is it not, my ladies?”

  “Have you eaten, Whill?”

  “Not this night.”

  “Excellent. Come, join us. We were just talking about the attacks on Rhuniston.”

  “There was only one attack, and they didn’t come close to harming the city,” said Whill as he came around the table to greet Mary Ellen. He took her hand in his and bowed. “Cousin.”

  Mary Ellen smiled and bowed as well. “How are the children? Have you brought them? I so wish to meet them.”

  “They are back in New Cerushia with their mother. But I would like them to meet both you and your family.”

  Dirk motioned for the server to pour Whill some wine and nodded respectfully. “What can you tell us about these creatures who attacked Rhuniston? Is it true that they are…intelligent?”

  Whill sipped his wine and offered a grim nod. “They speak. They wear clothes, walk upright…hells, they even know magic.”

  “What?” said Krentz, looking horrified. “I have never heard of these creatures, and I grew up in Drindellia.”

  “I imagine there are many things in Drindellia that you have never heard of,” said Whill. “Eadon had centuries to experiment; who knows what horrors lie in wait in the old world.”

  She nodded solemnly. “Drindellia is vast, and you are correct; many secrets live in the homeland.”

  “Have you come looking for soldiers?” Dirk asked.

  “If they are willing to fight. Agora has been through a lot, but it seems that once again we have found trouble.”

  “Is there any threat to us?” Mary Ellen asked, clutching her chest at the thought of it.

  “There is no immediate threat,” said Whill.

  “But what of the portal that you have opened? Surely if you can venture through from Drindellia, so too can the drekkon, or any ungodly beast for that matter.”

  “I understand your concerns about the portal, and I assure you, I have taken measures to prevent that from happening.”

  “It should be disassembled until the threat has passed,” said Mary Ellen with royal authority.

  “I tend to agree,” said Dirk.

  “Very well,” said Whill. “Once the soldiers and I are through, I will close it.”

  “That would be wise. I believe that Agora has had enough trouble recently. But it is good that you have found the drekkon, for surely they would have turned up sooner or later, whether the elves returned to Drindellia or not.”

  “Forgive me for being so candid,” said Krentz. “But with your power, surely you can eradicate this threat from Drindellia.”

  Whill noticed how Dirk looked at him expectantly. “Perhaps I could,” said Whill. “But if I wipe out an entire species, what does that make me? History is filled with stories of dictators who have committed genocide for a cause that they thought was righteous and good.”

  “But you are fighting the forces of evil,” said Mary Ellen. “Surely this is different.”

  “We do not know that they are evil,” said Whill.

  Mary Ellen was aghast. “But they are draggard, created by an evil elf for evil means…”

  “They have lived in Drindellia for hundreds of years. And they fought against Eadon’s rule. They consider Drindellia their homeland. When they marched on Rhuniston, they were simply responding to what they saw as an invasion. Would we have done no less? So, to address your remark, Mary Ellen, we do not yet know that they are evil.”

  Krentz shot to her feet. Her anger had been growing, Whill knew, and she had reached her limit. “We have all agreed that Eadon’s creations are abominations. You have slaughtered thousands; you have basically wiped out the draggard and the dark elves, and now you choose to get soft?”

  “We cannot simply exterminate entire races because they attack us!” The dark power surged in Whill, and he quickly composed himself. The others must have seen the change in him, for they looked at his eyes with alarm.

  Krentz sat down slowly.

  “We must be better than that,” said Whill. “I must be better than that. Don’t you see? In the beginning, Eadon and even Kellallea thought that what they were doing was righteous and good. They were defending themselves and their loved ones against an attack by those more powerful. If we continue to react as they did, then we will become what they were.”

  “What do you propose?” said Dirk, much like Zerafin had. “That we co-exist with these creatures?”

  “We have agreed to co-exist with the dragons,” said Whill.

  “That is different, they’re…” Krentz began, but she faltered.

  “What? They’re sentient? They can speak? So too can the drekkon.”

  “Well,” said Dirk, “you did kill their king. Perhaps you should not preach about peace so swiftly.”

  “He left me with no options.”

  Dirk raised a brow.

  “There were one hundred thousand to our ten thousand,” said Whill. “I was defending my people. I was not attacking, and I do not intend to attack.”

  “Who will rise in their king’s place?” said Mary Ellen. “Perhaps you should learn of this, and try to gain his ear.”

  “I have already sent out spies. And I intend to do as you have mentioned.”

  “How many soldiers do you need?” said Dirk.

  “As many as can be spared.”

  Chapter 21

  In Search of the Drekkon Lair

  Raene was glad to be gliding among the clouds, for she had not had a proper flight in weeks. Her silver hawk, Moonbeam, followed Zorriaz as she ferried Azzeal and Ragnar north, and the farther they traveled from the dwarf mountains and the familiarity of the human and elf settlements, the more she began to dread what she might find.

  Why had she volunteered to go on this quest with Azzeal and Ragnar? What was she hoping to gain? Her people needed her now more than ever, and here she was, traveling with an elf and a human, heading north to spy on yet more monsters. Trouble seemed to follow the dwarves of Ro’Sar like a haunting ghost, first with the taking of the mountain, then with the invasion of the dragons, and now, telepathic albino in the deeps. Raene
had to laugh, for it was either that or cry in frustration.

  She knew why she had agreed to go north. She needed to get away from the long faces of her people, the pained expressions, the cries of the young children. They had thought themselves safe in the new mountain, but it seemed that they would never be safe. Raene had lost her father and her brother to the wars, not to mention countless other friends and relatives, and she wondered when the dwarves might once again know peace.

  Up ahead, Azzeal motioned for her to follow them to the ground. The sun was getting low, and the moon that would replace it was new. This was foreign land full of unknown dangers, and not a place that one wanted to be flying through in the dark of night. But they would be continuing after this break, Raene knew, for Zorriaz and the silver hawk had no trouble seeing in the dark. This would be just a small break, albeit a much needed one. They had been flying the entire day, and a short walk and quick stretching of the legs would do her good.

  Zorriaz landed along the northern bank of Lake Ellarin. There were no lights to indicate nearby villages, but then again, the drekkon might live below ground.

  “Hungry?” said Azzeal when Raene dismounted. He offered her an open sack full of seeds and berries.

  “Not for bird food,” she told him as she surveyed the surrounding lake and the sparse forest of birch behind them.

  “I’ve got jerky,” said Ragnar, and Raene happily accepted the dried meat from the big man.

  “So, what we be looking for?” she asked as she ate.

  Ragnar gave her a queer little grin, and she was taken aback. “What the hells ye grinnin’ ‘bout? Eh?”

  “Nothing. You’re cute is all. Remind me of a dwarf lass from a story my father once told me.”

  “Cute?” she said, as though she had never heard of the word.