Whill of Agora
Book 4
A Crown of War
Michael James Ploof
Table of Contents
Other Books by Michael James Ploof
Dedication
Clarification:
Chapter One
I Have Seen Your Heart
Chapter Two
A Prison for the Mind
Chapter Three
Spirit-Elf
Chapter Four
The Coming Storm
Chapter Five
Taming the Dogs
Chapter Six
Infinite Consciousness
Chapter Seven
Winterstar
Chapter Eight
Wolves at the Door
Chapter Nine
Kellallea’s Offer
Chapter Ten
Veolindra
Chapter Eleven
General Mick Reeves
Chapter Twelve
The Fall of Cerushia
Chapter Thirteen
The Lost Gate of Arkron
Chapter Fourteen
A Way Out
Chapter Fifteen
Trouble on the Road
Chapter Sixteen
Open Waters
Chapter Seventeen
Revelations
Chapter Eighteen
Warcrown
Chapter Nineteen
Say My Name
Chapter Twenty
To the Ky’Dren Pass
Chapter Twenty-one
Two Brothers and the Elven Blade
Chapter Twenty-two
Elven Stones and Dwarf Kings
Chapter Twenty-three
Dark Places
Chapter Twenty-four
Adimorda’s Vision
Chapter Twenty-five
The Eastern Door
Chapter Twenty-six
The Way of the Peaceful Monk
Chapter Twenty-seven
Taken
Chapter Twenty-eight
The Fate of a Friend
Chapter Twenty-nine
The Pass
Chapter Thirty
Captives
Chapter Thirty-one
We Go to War
Chapter Thirty-two
Sea of Shields
Chapter Thirty-three
Deeds of Legend
Chapter Thirty-four
Prisoners
Chapter Thirty-five
The Lich Lord
Chapter Thirty-six
Reunion
Chapter Thirty-seven
Judgment
Chapter Thirty-eight
Ancient One
Chapter Thirty-nine
The Western Door
Chapter Forty
Green Wood
Chapter Forty-one
Teera
Chapter Forty-two
The Only Way
Chapter Forty-three
Felspire
Chapter Forty-four
The Reckoning
Chapter Forty-five
The Taking
Chapter Forty-six
A New World
Chapter Forty-seven
The End of a Long Road
The End
Sample Chapter
The Windwalker Archive
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Copyright © 2014 Michael James Ploof
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1497399017
Other Books by Michael James Ploof
The Windwalker Archive
Book 1
Talon
Whill of Agora
A Quest of Kings
A Song of Swords
A Crown of War
The Sock Gnome Chronicles
Billy Coatbutton and the Wheel of Destiny
Billy Coatbutton and the Ring of Sockchild
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Paul Fiacco, the first wizard I ever met.
Clarification:
As stated in Whill of Agora: Book 1, elves name their blades the opposite of themselves. Hence, Zerafin’s blade is Nifarez. Other examples include: Aramonis−Sinomara, Avriel−Leirva, and Eadon−Nodae. In particular, some confusion has been expressed regarding the name of Adimorda’s blade, Adromida. Though obviously similar, it is not a typo or mistake.
A Crown of War
Do the bards sing of a hero’s fears?
A hero’s scars?
A hero’s tears?
Chapter One
I Have Seen Your Heart
Aurora walked with Zander out of the tent and into the bitter wind. Fat snowflakes whirled in the afternoon light, and the clouds above glowed in stark contrast to the dark storm around the rift.
“Your army waits,” said Zander, indicating the rift beyond the tents of the armies of the Seven Tribes.
Aurora’s reply was lost as she gazed upon Azzeal. A thin fog surrounded him as the snow was singed by his energy shield. “You will die before you join Eadon?” The accusation in his voice ripped through her.
“Decide now! Shall you die with your honor intact, or will you become yet another of Eadon’s puppets?” Azzeal screamed as he began to glow.
“You offer me only death!” she cried.
Zander stepped past her to face Azzeal. He regarded his sun elf cousin with disdain. “When you strike my enemy, my strength shall guide thy hand.”
Aurora knew the words that he spoke, for Eadon had said such a thing as they sealed their deal with flesh.
When you strike my enemy, my strength shall guide thy hand. The promise came to her again.
The fourteen elves that had disguised themselves as spirit animals stepped forth out of the swirling snow to stand next to Azzeal.
“You are clearly outnumbered, dark elf. Surrender, and we may find an excuse to let you yet breathe,” Azzeal snarled.
Zander laughed in Azzeal’s face. “To the rift!” he bellowed in Elvish.
There was a sudden rumbling that shook the ground. Far beyond the army of the Seven, the rift crackled and buzzed with lightning. The winds picked up, and, soon, a blizzard surrounded the encampment. Before any of the elves could retaliate, Zander had turned to shadow and swirled to the ear of Aurora.
“The Draggard horde pours forth, m’lady. What will it be? Do you mean to send your tribesmen to their deaths against us in the name of honor? Or, will you join our ranks and storm the beaches of Agora with a mighty army at your back?” Zander whispered.
Azzeal awaited her reply with a hard-set chin.
“Bring me to the front line so that I might calm my armies,” said Aurora.
As she was whisked away by Zander’s spell, the face of Azzeal−the face of the betrayed−stared after her with tear-filled eyes.
At the base of the storming rift, the barbarian armies prepared for the imminent attack. Aurora stood before her legions and raised her arms to the sky. With Zander’s help, her voice rang out loud and clear.
“Hold!” she said with authority.
The thousands of barbarians stirred, and many complaints found her ears. Behind her, the hulking form of a dwargon came through the rift. Alarms and calls to arms rose up above the tumult as a host of Draggard and dark elves followed.
Aurora could not believe that the beasts were now her allies, but once again the power of Eadon coursed through her. Her decision had been made, and it had been rewarded.
“The dark elves and their hordes are our allies!” she told her people.
“Allies?!” a barbarian cried, and many angered voices rose up.
“These beasts have been a scourge upon our lands for decades!” yelled another.
Aurora yelled over them. “It is true, we have had ou
r differences. But a deal has been stuck. They would have ravaged Volnoss, leaving none alive, had it not been for me. With the dark elves as allies, we shall know the glory of the past. We will retake our homelands of old, and once again we shall know honor!”
“There is no honor in this!” yelled Winterwind, Chief of Eagle Tribe. “These beasts are an abomination!”
“You would rather we die defending this frozen rock?” asked Aurora.
“I will fight before I join with the dark elves,” Winterwind proclaimed.
“Do you challenge my authority as Chieftain of the Seven?” Aurora asked. Behind her hundreds of Draggard had filed out of the rift and fanned out wide. Many dark elves came to stand by her and Zander.
Winterwind answered her with a war cry and charged across the frozen ground. Aurora met the charge with a cry of her own and sped to meet him. Eadon’s words played in her mind as Winterwind raised his massive war hammer and came on fast.
“When you strike my enemy, my strength shall guide thy hand.”
The dark elf’s power coursed through her, lending her speed and power. She thumbed a gem upon the Dragonlance of Ashai, and the blade extended to ten feet with a shriek. The tip shot forth in a blur of enchanted steel and impaled Winterwind through the neck. His body convulsed as Aurora heaved him high at the end of her lance and threw him through the air to land at the feet of the dark elves.
With three sharp clicks her lance retracted into the shaft. Aurora stalked toward the barbarian line and eyed each chief in turn. “I ask one more time: who here would challenge my authority?”
“I would!” A voice rang out, and the barbarians parted for the speaker. Aurora recognized the voice, and her heart broke as Azzeal and his elves, now in their true form, walked toward her.
Aurora shook her head and trained the lance on Azzeal’s chest, her thumb hovering above a gem. The elf paid the threat no mind and was soon standing before her. He offered her a sympathetic smile. Zander came to stand beside her. She could sense the other dark elves at her back.
“You can still do the right thing,” Azzeal begged her.
“Kill him,” said Zander in her ear.
“Be gone from here, sun elf. There is not but death for you now,” Aurora bade him with a whisper. “You offer me only death,” she reminded him.
“I offer you honorable death: freedom of your soul!” Azzeal erupted. Behind him, the fourteen druids unsheathed their curved blades in unison; the drawn swords of the dark elves at Aurora’s back rang out in answer.
A tear found Aurora’s cheek as Azzeal’s voice came to her. I have seen into your heart Aurora Snowfell; you are a good person. You cannot do this.
Zander stared at her from the right. The dark elf had taken a step back. “Defy thy master’s will, and you shall share his enemies’ fate. The barbarian warriors will be slaughtered, the women will be ravaged by Draggard, and your children will be their food.”
Eadon’s words echoed in her mind. When you strike my enemy, my strength shall guide thy hand.
Coward at your back, the voice whispered from her dreams.
“Choose,” said Azzeal.
As the single tear fell from her face, Aurora made her choice. Power coursed through her body and into the Dragonlance of Ashai as it shot forth into the energy shield and sank in Azzeal’s chest. Chaos erupted as Zander and his dark elves engaged the Elves of the Sun. Time slowed for Aurora as Azzeal’s dying gaze locked her in a stare. Spells erupted around them, and the clamor of blades rang out; Azzeal’s blade fell to the frozen earth as his power was leached from him by the Dragonlance. His face became taut and his eyes bulged as his strangled voice uttered words that would haunt her forever. “I have seen…your…heart.”
“Be still!” A voice boomed, and the world became silent.
Everyone froze. Aurora turned to gaze upon the portal. There, floating at its center, was Eadon. In an instant, he was before her.
“You have chosen well my Lady of the North,” said Eadon with a lingering grin. He turned to the Elves of the Sun and extended a hand. They cried out and withered to ash. Their essence was pulled forth into Eadon’s clenched fist and absorbed. Aurora retracted her Dragonlance, horrified at what she had done. Azzeal fell dead to the ground. The barbarians watched silently as Eadon stalked the line taking a measure of the armies. Their shoulders, once proud and strong, now hung down as they cowered before the dark elf’s power.
“Stand tall barbarians of Volnoss!” he cried. “Chieftain Snowfell has secured your place in the New Agora.”
Behind him, the rift churned and lightning lashed out from all sides. The Draggard army had reached the thousands. Overhead, scores of draquon circled, swirling like a gathering whirlwind, and sending phantom shadows swimming across the frozen landscape. The ground shook with the heavy steps of lumbering dwargon as they approached with dark elf riders saddled on their hunched backs.
“Kneel before me now, and prove your allegiance!” Eadon bellowed. The barbarians began to comply, and soon only a handful of brave souls remained standing. Eadon studied the two dozen barbarian warriors, men and women alike, and his gaze fell to Aurora. She straightened under that stare, her heart hammering all the while.
Eadon reached toward the standing barbarians, and they were pulled to him by an unseen force.
“Chieftain Snowfell, what do you suggest we do with these…traitors?” he asked.
Aurora considered them as she walked the line. One of the women spat in her face, but quickly regretted it. She was lifted by Eadon’s mental grip, and tossed high into the churning mass of draquon. Soon her blood and torn body were raining down upon the crowd.
“The tribes of Volnoss have no place for those that would not help us thrive. If you are not our allies, you are our enemies,” said Aurora. “Zander!”
“Chieftain?” he smiled.
“Dispose of them.”
“As you wish,” he said and turned to the group. He arched his back and tensed as his many gems and crystals began to glow. He threw out his right hand and blue lightning snaked forth and engulfed them all. After half a minute of thrashing and screaming, the barbarians lay dead and smoldering.
Aurora watched her kin die and felt nothing. Whatever goodness Azzeal had seen in her had died with him. Her choice had been made; there was no turning back now. She would lead her barbarians and the hideous hordes of Draggard in an attack on Agora, and reclaim the ancient lands and the mountains of the north.
Eadon followed her gaze to the crumpled form of Azzeal. He walked to the elf and turned the body over with his boot. With an outstretched hand over the corpse, Eadon began to chant in a hissing language unknown to her. Azzeal’s body lurched and convulsed and rose into the air. A lightning bolt crashed through the snowstorm and slammed into the body. A strangled cry issued forth from Azzeal, and Eadon grinned at Aurora.
“Rise, Azzeal of Drindellia. I yet have use for you,” said Eadon as Azzeal descended to the ground and stood weakly. His eyes were milky white. Aurora recognized nothing of the elf she had known in them.
“The undead elf will lead you to the southern coast; there you will find the waters frozen to the Shierdon shores. Near Orenden, you shall join forces with the armies of Shierdon, and reclaim your lands.”
“Yes, my lord,” said Aurora with a bow.
Eadon turned with a jerk, alert to something. Aurora recognized surprise in his face. He leapt from the ground and flew like an arrow toward the rift, but before he could reach it, there was a deafening explosion and the rift winked out of existence.
Chapter Two
A Prison for the Mind
The Other peered out over the ash-covered land and shuddered as the power of Adromida coursed through him. He sheathed the ancient blade and turned to his army. He had done what Whill would not; he had destroyed the entire Draggard force. The elves and dwarves stared at the destruction, dumbfounded. The horde that once stretched for miles was gone, as were the monolithic crystals, and, mor
e importantly, the rifts.
The dwarves burst into cheers, and the elves quickly joined in the celebration. But, soon the cheering subsided and the reality of the situation set in, and they found themselves trapped somewhere in Drindellia. They knew that thousands of miles away and across the sea, the dark elf armies wreaked havoc.
“Ye did it, lad, you destroyed ’em all,” said Roakore, as he came to stand next to Whill.
“It is good to see you again, Roakore.”
Roakore eyed him oddly and noticed the cuts and scars, the bloody nose and eyes.
“Yer hurt a bit, lad,” he said, looking uncharacteristically concerned.
The Other shrugged. “From the blast. It shall pass.”
Avriel and Zerafin approached and gazed out over the destruction. Avriel noticed the Other but said nothing. If Zerafin recognized a change in Whill, he did well to hide it.
“The rifts have been destroyed; we are trapped here,” said Zerafin.
Roakore beheld the smoldering battlefield as if for the first time. He had been so caught up in the victory he missed the ramifications of the rifts being destroyed. .
“We be trapped?” he yelled, looking around frantically. "And thousands o’ miles away?”
Roakore grabbed the Other by the armor and gave him a shake. “Open it back up. The rifts, they be leading to the Dwarf Mountains, I tell ye. We gots to be gettin’ home!”
The Other swung his arms up, loosening himself from the distraught dwarf.
“Calm yourself! We will find a way,” he said.
“Across the sea be the only way. Ye plan on buildin’ us a magic boat?” Roakore huffed.
“Upon the castle grounds of Del’Oradon is a tomb. Within lies one of Arkron’s lost gates, which leads here,” said the Other.
Roakore squared on him once again. “And this be a chunk o’ land how big? Nearly five times the size o’ Agora!”
A Crown Of War (Book 4) Page 1
