A Crown Of War (Book 4)

by Michael Ploof

  Krentz was a blur of sword and smoke as she cut a path through the Draggard. Dirk followed in her wake, blasting those who got too near with explosive darts. Whill had risen once again, and was cutting through the Draggard in a rage. His eyes glowed bright white to match the elven blade.

  “Whill!” Dirk yelled over the tumult. If he was heard, he did not know, for Whill surged forward and slammed into Eadon.

  *

  Their energy shields sparked and hissed against one another as Whill slammed into Eadon and drove him back through the air to collide with the sheer wall of Felspire. They crashed through the wall and into a dark chamber and across, blasting through the back wall five hundred yards away. Eadon laughed all the while. Abruptly, Eadon stopped in his flight and hit Whill with a spell that sent him flying back into the spire. In a blur of shining light, Eadon had unsheathed his blade and was lunging forward. Quickly, Whill brought up Adromida to block, but Eadon hit him with such force that the blade was knocked out of his hands and spun away. Eadon grabbed him by the throat and lifted him high.

  “I will have the power of Adromida! How many of your allies must die before you accept your destiny?”

  Whill mentally called to Adromida and the blade flew to his right hand at once. He punched out with his left with an energy blast, hitting Eadon in the chest, but the spell was absorbed. Eadon laughed and released him. He took three strides and turned back on Whill with a smirk. “You cannot kill me with my own blade, boy.”

  Whill looked to Adromida horrified. Eadon laughed all the more.

  “Your purpose had been fulfilled, Whill of Agora. I have made you a legend among men. I have given you not one, but two kingdoms. And this is how I am repaid!” Eadon screamed, and shot a spell that Whill could only brace for. The blast slammed him through Felspire once more, shattering crystal. He landed and rose to his feet quickly as Eadon stalked him.

  The power coursing through Felspire hummed and crackled. Through the center of the wide shaft, a beam of white energy shot up toward the heavens. Eadon outstretched his hand and pulled Whill through the air to land at the center of Felspire. Whill looked to Adromida and the power of the ley lines coursing through the spire. A glance at Eadon showed him the dark elf’s sudden fear, and Whill plunged Adromida into the power beam.

  *

  Raene charged her way through the Draggard crowd, ducking low and running around and between their scaled legs. Finally, she came to Dirk and Krentz who were fending off the Draggard. Raene saw who they were defending and stopped dead in her tracks. Floating above glowing gems in chains of light, was an elf maiden and Raene’s cousin, King Roakore. The dwarf had whiplashes all about his naked body. He had only a loincloth for clothes, and blood poured from many wounds. Still, he fought his bondage, screaming obscenities at the nearby Draggard.

  At her back a Draggard lunged, and she whirled around and brought her shield up blocking a spear. She shattered her attacker’s knee with her spiked mace, and turned to run to her kin.

  Roakore wondered if he were dreaming. Possibly he had been drugged by the dark elves. He saw the scoundrel Dirk Blackthorn coming toward him with some sort of ghost elf, and, there, running after them with shield and mace, was a dwarf warrior…a female dwarf warrior! Roakore fought his bonds, thinking the assassin was coming to settle their score once and for all. Before Dirk could reach him, Tarren materialized before his eyes.

  “Well, I be the son o’ stone! He’s alive!”

  The Watcher raised a hand, and the spell that bound Avriel and Roakore winked out and they fell to the hard earth. Roakore immediately barreled toward Dirk. The assassin leapt over him, and he and his ghost elf charged on toward Felspire.

  “Come back, ye coward!” Roakore yelled after him.

  “Roakore! You be all right?” the dwarf woman grabbed his shoulder. He looked at her closer.

  “Raene? Ky’Ell’s little one?”

  “Bah!” she spat. “I be lookin’ little to you?”

  “What you doing here?” he asked, eyeing her armor and mace.

  “Savin’ your bloody arse, it seems,” she laughed.

  The Watcher came to them, holding Avriel’s hand as Draggard and dwargon alike pounded on the energy shield he had created.

  “Who be the little kid?” Raene asked.

  “He be an old elf,” said Roakore, to her puzzlement.

  “Princess Avriel has not only forgotten who Whill is, but also all knowledge of Orna Catorna. It is not safe for her here,” said the Watcher.

  Roakore looked to her, and in her eyes he saw none of the elf’s ferocity; instead he saw confusion, and fear. Behind them, Felspire rumbled, and the ground quaked beneath it. The power coursing through the spire surged, and large chunks of crystal began to fall upon the gathered armies.

  “You will want to be far from here shortly, come with me,” the Watcher told them.

  “My place be next to Whill, he be needin me now more than ever!” said Roakore, turning to look where Whill had blasted Eadon through the crystal.

  “You can offer no help now, good dwarf,” said the Watcher, looking to the south. Roakore followed his eyes and saw Zorriaz, the white dragon Avriel had once been, and upon her back rode King Zerafin.

  The ground shook once more, and larger chunks of Felspire began to rain down upon the battlefield. Spells streaked through the air from all directions still, and explosions flashed everywhere. The sun had been blotted out by the thick fog of smoke that hung over them, and blackened snow and ash fell slowly to the ground.

  Roakore gave a growl of frustration as Zerafin landed, and Avriel and the Watcher climbed on. The Watcher’s energy shield melded with Zerafin’s, and Tarren’s eyes waited patiently for Roakore.

  Raene looked from Zorriaz, to the spire, and back to Roakore. “What’s it gonna be, cuz?”

  “If you do not come with us, you will both die,” said the Watcher. “You can offer Whill no help now.”

  Roakore reluctantly turned from Felspire. For once, he thought about his people over his sense of glory.

  “Bah, come on,” he said to Raene.

  They mounted Zorriaz and flew away from the crumbling monolith.

  *

  Dirk summoned Chief on the run as he and Krentz went through the hole Whill had made. He spotted Whill and Eadon at the center of the hollow spire. Whill’s blade was thrust into the energy beam coursing from the earth. His eyes glowed with the flowing power, and Eadon backed away.

  Dirk sprinted as fast as his enchanted boots would carry him and rushed to Whill’s side. Krentz reached Whill first, but was blasted by Eadon. She was thrown back twenty feet with crackling, writhing green lightning surrounding her. Dirk yelled to Whill, who seemed to be draining power from Felspire.

  “Eadon wishes to possess y−” Eadon hit Dirk with a bolt of power that lifted him from his feet and sent him crashing to the smooth crystal floor, far away. A hole had been blasted through his side, nearly tearing him in half.

  He lay on his back, fighting for breath, with half of his torso missing. He could not move his legs, and when he tried to feel his wound with his right hand, he found that his arm was missing. Dying, his head lolled to the side, and he beheld his beautiful Krentz. She was reaching for him as she flickered in and out of solid form, crawling across the crystal floor. The writhing green tendrils crackled around her, but she inched her way across the floor to him.

  “Dirk!” she struggled to say. “Keep your eyes open, baby. Dirk!”

  He was tired, and he wanted only sleep. He knew he was dying, but there was nothing to be done. His eyes would not stay open, they were so heavy, so heavy…

  “Dirk!” Krentz screamed, closer now. “Take my hand, please, take my hand.”

  Dirk forced his eyes open and looked down at his left arm splayed out beside him. Krentz reached for him desperately. “Take my hand my, love,” she begged.

  With the last of his strength, Dirk moved his hand slowly to hers, and she grabbed a hold of i
t tight.

  “Now, send me away,” she told him. “Send me away.”

  Dirk’s vision swam, and his eyes closed as his breath came in shorter, more desperate gasps. “Return…to…the spirit world…Krentz,” he said with his last words. He felt himself falling then, but falling with Krentz in his arms. His body fell away as they drifted down, down, down…

  *

  Whill saw Eadon hit Dirk with a beam of piercing light. The assassin had yelled a warning, but Whill did not understand the words. The power coursing through him crashed in his ears like a raging waterfall. Eadon backed away, and the look on his face quickened Whill’s heart: it was fear. Whill turned from the energy beam coursing through Felspire and reached out to the dark elf with a clawed hand. No spell erupted from it; instead, Whill pulled at Eadon’s power, the way that he had taken the life force of many dark elves.

  Whill felt resistance as Eadon squared on him and held his sword before him defensively. Whill poured all of his hate and all of his rage into the spell, and Eadon began to scream. The Sword of Power Taken cannot be given, only taken. The words played across his mind, and he summoned the power of Eadon’s blade, Nodae.

  “This cannot be!” Eadon cried in rage, and Whill was electrified by his victim’s helplessness as he drained the energy from the Sword of Power Taken.

  You are being fooled, Whill. Give me the power before it is too late, I beg of you! said Kellallea in Whill’s mind. She was suddenly standing next to him. She laid a hand in the power beam coursing through Felspire, and the beam of light shooting up through the shaft dimmed considerably. Whill ignored her plea, and with one last surge of power, he tore Eadon’s blade from his hands, and Felspire exploded.

  Chapter Forty-five

  The Taking

  The ground rumbled and shook, knocking all within the shadow of Felspire to their knees. The Draggard and dwargon lurched and shrieked, looking to the spire with fear. There was a surge of power, and, then, sudden quiet, and for a surreal moment, the armies were still. Felspire suddenly exploded with a deafening report that shattered the silence. Shards of crystal and chunks of stone were blasted out in every direction for miles.

  Zerafin covered his sister and the others with an energy shield as the spire exploded. Little of the debris landed among the armies, so great was the energy that had been released.

  “Kick his arse, Laddie!” Roakore screamed throughout it all, and Raene cheered right along with him.

  With his mind sight, Zerafin looked to what had once been the base of the spire and saw Whill floating high above the ground. In each of his hands, he held a brilliant sword of power, and Eadon was nowhere to be seen.

  *

  Felspire exploded with an earth-shattering force, and Whill felt the power of the two blades come together around him. Eadon disappeared as the power of the ley lines winked out and the walls of the spire exploded, leaving him standing within the eye of a storm of swirling debris. Above, the heavens split wide and a beam of purest white shone down on the battlefield. Kellallea remained standing were she had been. Whill looked up expectantly, wondering if the prophecy of the two swords were true. He felt the power of the blades coursing through him, and realized that he now possessed the power of the gods.

  Pain exploded in his head, and he dropped to his knees. You have served your purpose, Whill of Agora, Eadon’s voice came to him then. Whill cried in torment, and the voice echoed ever louder in his mind. He instinctively summoned the power of the blades, but he could not focus an attack on the dark elf, who had invaded his body. Eadon tore at his very soul, as their spirits grappled within the caverns of his mind.

  Whill’s body floated above the ground, and beams of white light shot from his eyes and mouth as he screamed to the heavens. Random spells erupted from the two blades as he and Eadon struggled for possession of his body. Whill felt himself growing weaker, and Eadon stronger. He was losing the battle for dominance. In his mind, he knelt before Eadon as the dark elf took over his body.

  Quickly, before it is too late, Kellallea urged him. Eadon grinned and the suffering threatened to shatter Whill’s mind.

  He is mine, ancient one. The gods come.

  “Let go, and you shall know peace.” Tarren’s words echoed in his mind in the Watcher’s voice.

  Whill felt himself fading. He was losing his grip on the power of the blades. The great, pressing weight of Eadon’s presence crushed the life out of him. Their souls began to merge, and it was more agony than Whill had ever known. A brilliant light illuminated the dark storm of Whill’s mind as his soul was devoured. A sudden surge of energy coursed through Whill, and he felt the presence of his inner demon, the Other.

  The Other attacked Eadon’s soul with all of the pent up rage Whill had carried all his life. Images of his torture replayed in his mind, but rather than Whill strapped to the torture wheel, it was Eadon. The dark elf’s spirit lessened his grip on Whill’s, as the Other attacked with everything he had.

  Whill’s eyes shot open, and he beheld the destruction he was wreaking upon the land. Lightning and fire whirled all around him, as a tornado of jagged chunks of crystal and large pieces of earth torn from the ground below spun in a wide circle. The ground had opened up beneath him and was falling into itself, swallowing up everything around it. Brilliant stars shone above, and Whill knew that the gods bore witness to the battle.

  Kellallea stood amid the tumult, seemingly unaffected. She reached out an offered hand, and regarded Whill with a pensive brow.

  Eadon wishes to possess you! Dirk’s words came to him then.

  The Other was being destroyed, it would not be long before Eadon once again focused his attention upon him fully.

  Whill, let go, said Abram in his mind.

  Whill understood then Eadon’s design, the link between their souls laid out his thoughts as if they were his own. Eadon had seen this battle unfold eons before when he went by the name Adimorda. He knew Whill would not voluntarily hand over such endless power, and that would be his doom.

  Whill felt the Other being devoured by Eadon’s soul, and he knew he had only moments. Mustering everything he had, he pointed the two elven blades at Kellallea.

  “Kellallea, I give to you all the power that I possess!” he bellowed in a voice that shook the earth.

  Eadon screamed in his mind and tore at his soul like a ravenous beast. From Adromida, Sword of Power Given, a bright blue beam of power struck the ancient elf as she raised her hands to the heavens and floated into the air. A red beam erupted from Nodae, Sword of Power Taken, and Whill felt Eadon tear his soul apart. Whill fell to the earth, dying, Eadon’s scream echoing in his shattered mind.

  *

  Zerafin and Roakore flew over the battlefield upon Zorriaz The White. The Draggard had begun to flee when Felspire exploded. Those who had been near the blast had been disintegrated. The dwarves and elves pressed the charge in the wake of the blast, but they dared not get too close. Whill floated above the earth radiating with power, spells shot out in every direction as he arched back facing the heavens. Suddenly, the swirling storm around him subsided and the debris rained down upon the battlefield.

  “Kellallea, I give to you all the power that I possess!” Whill cried in a voice that echoed for miles.

  Zerafin and Roakore watched wide-eyed as the power of the two blades flew from Whill to Kellallea, and Whill fell to the ground, dead. Zorriaz steered them toward Whill. Through raining debris and streaking spells they flew, and, together, Zerafin and Roakore leapt from the saddle. They landed mere feet from Whill and were forced to avert their eyes from the brilliance of Kellallea, who shone before them like the sun come to earth. When Zerafin could stand to look once more, he noticed that every dark elf and Draggard upon the battlefield was dead.

  “My Elves of Drindellia,” she said in a booming voice as she floated above them. “Long ago, I took from the elves all knowledge of Orna Catorna. It nearly destroyed us then, and it has nearly destroyed us now. I allowed the elv
es the knowledge of magic once again, in the hopes that the lesson had been learned, but alas, it was not. You are not ready to wield such power. You may never be ready.”

  “Kellallea, no,” Zerafin whispered, knowing what was coming.

  Again, there was a brilliant explosion of light, and Zerafin felt the magic and stored power torn from his mind and body.

  Thousands of glowing orbs of energy flew from every elf in Agora, and were absorbed by Kellallea as she floated above them. She opened her arms wide to accept the power she stole. All knowledge of the craft, and all of the stored energy the elves possessed was taken from them.

  Zerafin dropped to his knees as his tears fell upon the scorched earth. He searched his mind for the vast knowledge he had once possessed, but he remembered nothing. He felt as if he had lost a piece of himself.

  “You shall live as mortals once again, and you shall find peace. I am sorry, my children, it is the only way. Remember what happened here for all time. One man, a human, gave up the power of a god, so the world might know peace. Those of you with such righteous hearts might once again find the magic that was lost, and have the blessing of your goddess, Kellallea.”

  The heavens above opened wide, and beyond the tear in the clouds, brilliant stars shone brightly. The stars below the clouds converged, and Kellallea rose up to meet them.

  Rise, Whill of Agora. The words came to Whill through the infinite darkness, and he gasped for breath. He found himself lying upon the ground. Above him, brilliant stars rose up through a tear in the heavens. He rose to his feet and gazed upon the elven blades in his hands. Roakore and Zerafin ran toward him, and, standing before him a stone’s throw away, was Eadon. The dark elf stared at his empty hands in disbelief. Just as Whill and the elves remembered nothing of Orna Catorna, neither did Eadon. He was now as mortal as any human.