Dirk whirled to the right as a sword slashed across his cloak and back, cutting the cloak in half and slashing a long gash across Dirk’s shoulder. Both dark elves came at him then, but the Krentz-impersonating twin stepped on his special trap. There was a click as she stepped on the loosened stone he had put his bomb under, and for a brief moment Dirk was satisfied to see her surprised. He threw a cyclone dart at her feet as the trap exploded in a raging ball of fire. The dark-elf twin was caught up in the cyclone of burning dragonsbreath and, screaming, was lifted up into the night by the explosion. Dirk braced himself as the whirlwind pulled in everything in the courtyard not tied down.
He had only a few darts that could cause such havoc and he rarely used them, but facing both of these dark-elf assassins at the same time was cause for such extreme force. The dark elf’s sister came at him in a rage of slashes and powerful blows. Their blades sent showers of sparks into the cyclone above as the dark elf pressed Dirk toward the whirlwind.
Boom! The dragon slammed into the wall of the castle and roared in a rage. Fire leapt up into the whirlwind as the dragon clawed its way up onto the castle wall. It spotted one of its riders and belched flame down on Dirk. He dove to the left and rolled himself into his cloak as the flames engulfed the courtyard.
When the fire subsided, the dark-elf assassin was there, chopping down at him from on high. A cross-blade block stopped the attack but the dark elf slammed down on him, trying to pin him. Dirk rolled onto his back, heaving with his legs. The dark elf twirled through the air to land on her feet as Dirk got to his. The dragon roared again and cocked its head as if to breathe fire once more. Chief flew from nowhere and landed claws first on the dragon’s face. The beast reared and slipped as the cyclone pulled on it as well. The dragon-hawk crashed into the courtyard as it pawed at its snout, trying to dislodge the spirit wolf, but Chief would not be budged. The ghost wolf became translucent as the great clawed paw came at him to squash him. When the hand receded, the wolf turned to physical form and slashed at the snout and eyes. Blood and feathers had begun to fall from the furious dragon-hawk’s face.
The burning body of the other dark elf landed upon the stairs to the wall and rolled to the bottom. Dirk followed his attacker’s eyes and saw fear there. He grinned.
“Chief, kill the burning elf!” he ordered and threw Krone at the dragon. Chief had clawed and bitten enough to weaken the dragon’s magical defenses, and Dirk’s enchanted dagger plunged through it. It twirled through the air and into the dragon’s mouth, wedging itself in the soft skin between the dragon’s teeth.
Chief landed upon the burning dark elf just as her healing light began to glow. The spirit wolf bit her neck and shook violently, trying to break it. Sparks popped and flew from the dark elf’s energy shield as the spirit wolf raked with vicious claws that carried with them the mysterious power of the other side.
The other assassin snarled and met Dirk once more in battle. She flung a ball of fire at him but it was absorbed by his enchanted left glove. The gems within the glove began to glow with the absorbed power. Dirk took advantage of her surprise and shot the glove out forward, sending the pent-up energy in a shockwave that crushed the center of a giant pillar. The pillar was one of four that held the giant slab of the upper floor, and it shuddered and cracked when its supporting pillar crumbled. Dirk had chosen that very pillar because it was above the thrashing dark elf and Chief.
Dirk’s opponent screamed as the slab buckled and cracked and fell with crushing force upon her sister and Chief. Seeing the tide of the battle turning, the guards rallied their courage and poured out of the destroyed keep door. Men scrambled to man the harpoons, not daring to imagine what had happened to the last spearmen. By the dozens they poured, and their quarry was the dark elf. Dirk pressed his attack in a blur of spinning sword and dagger. The dark elf looked from Dirk to the charging men, then to the dragon that sat upon the wall like a statue, paralyzed to move against him, and finally to her sister, crushed beneath the weight of the stone, her energy shield flickering and sparking against the great weight. With a cry she shot a glowing orb of energy at the center of the attacking men. It exploded with a bang, sending many men flying through the air, and still they charged.
Whirling away from Dirk, she darted to her sister’s side. Dirk looked up at the dragon and screamed, “Kill her!” The mind control dagger Krone forced it to obey.
The elf skidded to a stop before her crushed sister and with raised arms began to mentally lift the stone slab. The dragon roared and leapt from the wall onto the slanted broken slab. The pinned elf’s energy shield died in a show of webbing lightning. Beneath the stone slab the dark elf fell to one knee with the effort of keeping it off her sister. She trembled and quaked, and from her mind curled tendrils of healing energy. The guards came with a dozen swords that exploded against her shield. The men pounded with sword and axe, weakening her shield. Dirk threw the last of his dragonsbreath darts at the trapped, dying elf. The bomb exploded on impact with the elf’s energy shield and the explosion cracked the slab further, causing it to break off at the high end and come crashing down upon the courtyard.
The dragon-hawk slammed a huge front paw down on the remaining twin. With a grunt she ducked under her protective shield as it absorbed the blow. With a scream of rage she blasted the dragon with a massive surge of lightning that left her trembling, her energy spent. The guards slashed and stabbed as Dirk came at her from the right, whipping daggers in rapid succession. The dark elf began to tremble and shake. She screamed so loud that it was instantly deafening. The daggers were deflected by the shield but it was wavering. The dragon rebounded from the wall and slammed the dark elf into the far wall. She shot out of the destroyed wall and charged at Dirk with murder in her eyes and her sword leading. Dirk braced himself, but the blow never came. The dragon lunged forward and struck like a snake, catching the dark elf in its jaws with a snap. The teeth clamped down and she screamed as her energy shield was taxed to exhaustion. The dragon shook its head violently and slammed the elf down, shattering the stones beneath her broken form. Dirk came down with his sword, stabbing her in the chest as a dagger found her throat and drew blood.
“Where is Krentz?” he demanded. Blue healing energy swirled around the sword in her chest. She coughed red and grinned with bloody teeth.
“Gods take you, worm,” she snarled as a weapon clattered upon the stone. Dirk realized it was the mind-control dagger he had wedged between the dragon’s teeth. The dragon was no longer under his control. Dirk pulled his blade from the dark elf’s chest, and blood gushed for a moment but stopped as she used what power she had left to heal the mortal wound.
Dirk stepped back from the dragon that now glared at him with ice-blue eyes of cold fury. The guards followed Dirk’s lead. The dark elf laughed and no longer gurgled from her wounds.
“Now you will die,—” she said, and was bitten in half by the dragon. Her torso and legs stood for a moment and then slowly fell to the knees and stone. The dragon shook its head and sent the upper body over the castle wall.
Everyone looked at the dragon in a defensive crouch, but the dragon looked at Dirk. No one moved. Dirk slowly sheathed his sword, and then his dagger. The dragon watched his every move.
Dirk squared up on the dragon from ten feet away and put out his empty hands. “I have no quarrel with you, dragon. It seems that our enemies were one and the same. We have no quarrel with you.”
The dragon-hawk reared and ruffled its large silver feathers, causing it to appear double its size. Feathers crowned the dragon’s head around two large, straight back horns. From behind a beaked snout, the dragon’s intelligent eyes looked to the dead dark elves and to Dirk. Finally the dragon lowered its gaze and turned to climb the broken wall and be away.
“Silver dragon-hawk!” Dirk yelled.
The creature turned from the wall slowly and regarded the assassin.
“Where will you go? You have no home. You are defying your maker and you know n
ot the world.”
The dragon-hawk’s feathers changed to match the stone and night sky above. Only the eyes were left to see clearly. The dragon-hawk listened.
“I too have been the dark elves’ captive, I too would seek revenge! I can show you the world; I can lead you to more of our enemies. I know of an island of dragons—I can lead you home, whatever you wish. Let me be your rider and I promise you friendship and loyalty.”
The guards watched on wordlessly, thinking Dirk insane. The dragon-hawk regarded the stars for a time and then knelt upon the stone wall, offering a boost to the first saddle rung. Dirk slowly climbed the broken wall to stand next to the dragon. There was a terrifying moment of anticipation as he put his boot up onto the dragon’s leg. Dirk climbed up to sit in the forward seat of the twin saddle. He took the reins and nodded down at the astonished guards as the dragon-hawk leapt and soared out into the night.
Chapter 29
King Zerafin
Zerafin redirected the dragonsbreath of Zorriaz high as Whill raised a hand and squeezed the air, and the dragon’s mouth clamped shut. Fire instead raged out of its nose as it reared and its tail sent four elves flying.
“Zorriaz, stop!” Avriel yelled and the dragon obeyed. The flames subsided and she walked toward Avriel. With the aid of the other healers, the two engulfed elves were tended to, healing blue energy surrounding their burnt bodies.
Zorriaz bent her neck to meet Avriel’s gaze. The dragon smelled her hair and stared at her through large eyes. Avriel lifted a quivering hand as tears ran down her face.
“Hello, Zorriaz. Be still, you are safe here,” Avriel crooned.
“Are you mad?” Queen Araveal screamed at her daughter.
“Zorriaz wanted to return. I simply helped her.”
“You are out of control, Avriel!”
“I am centuries old. I do not need mothering.”
The queen stepped forward into her daughter’s space and Avriel could not hold her gaze. “I speak to you not as your mother but as Queen of Drindellia! There are laws of conduct for a reason. Do you think you are the first to wish to reverse death? It is forbidden.”
Avriel bravely stepped forward to meet her mother’s glare. “You allowed such a thing in my transformation, Queen Araveal.”
“And my punishment will be the relinquishing of my crown,” said the queen with a raised chin.
Avriel jerked back as if slapped. “Mother, no,” she whispered.
“It must be so. I have willingly broken the rule of resurrection and I shall be punished accordingly. If I as queen do not uphold my people’s laws, then I am not fit to rule. Such is the way of the elves of the sun. You, my dear daughter, shall also answer for what you have done. I do not know how you did it, but you did.”
“I did it!” Whill suddenly blurted. Everyone in attendance turned to look at him. “I summoned the dragon soul, for it lingered still, unable to return to its vessel but also unable to move on. She is right, it wanted to return, but Eadon’s spell made it unable. I simply opened the door, if you will.”
The queen looked from Whill to Avriel, then left and right to the elven healers. “Is that what happened here?” she asked.
Heads slowly nodded agreement.
“Very well. I have been mistaken,” she said to the group, and looked into her daughter’s eyes. “It appears as though Avriel is innocent,” she said, and lingered long in her gaze.
A man who would lie for you truly loves you, said the queen in her mind, and Avriel smiled.
Beware. It also means that he would lie to you for you.
Avriel’s smile disappeared as her mother turned and left, with a quick glance at Whill.
Whill watched from the balcony as Avriel combed her long hair. It had grown down to the small of her back these six months, and Whill liked the look. In her bright white gown of golden lace, she looked every part the princess of Elladrindellia.
He moved from the balcony to stand behind her. Through the mirror he smiled.
“What?” She blushed.
“And thine eyes had not seen, nor had thine ears heard, until they beheld thee,” he said to her reflection.
“A reciter of elven poetry?” She smiled brightly. “I had not thought you the type.”
“I have read some, but rarely does life mimic such verse,” he said with a grin.
Her room in the palace near the heart of the city faced the city’s gathering hill, the very hill upon which Whill had been attacked, and Avriel had killed her kin. A light breeze blew through the open balcony door, and upon it rode elven music.
Whill was struck by the memory of another elven poem. He looked in the mirror as he began to recite it, and then recoiled with alarm.
“I had thought her dead for so long,” said the Other. He reached a broken-nailed and bloody hand toward the surface of the mirror, and Whill jumped to grab Avriel. He pulled her from the mirror as the hand reached. Whill pulled her up and held her to him. Looking back at the mirror, he saw the Other was gone. Only his terrified reflection stared back at him.
“Whill, what is it?”
Whill scowled at his reflection and leaned closer, inspecting the mirror and the room within it. There in the reflection, leaning cross-armed against the balcony door, was the Other.
“Powerful things, mirrors,” said the Other. “I am surprised one such as her would risk one.” He cocked his head at Whill. “Have you ever thought her to be vain?”
“Whill, is it the Other?” Avriel asked quietly.
He looked at her wide-eyed and nodded slowly. “Can you not hear him?”
She shook her head and put her hand upon his shoulder. “What does he say?”
The Other laughed. “Tell her I love her.”
Whill picked up the carved chair that Avriel had sat on, and with a growl he smashed the mirror. Avriel backed from him and the flying glass.
“It will not be that easy, my cowardly friend,” laughed the Other from the balcony.
“You leave her alone, you sick, twisted son of a—”
“Do not take our mother’s name in vain!” the Other screamed in a sudden rage that made Whill blink. “You ungrateful worm! I give us back Avriel, I bear the brunt of our torture, and this is what I get.” He walked toward Whill slowly, threateningly. “You forget, I am you. Remember that when you look at her. Remember that when you touch her,” he said, and was gone.
Whill blinked and looked around the room, to the broken mirror and into Avriel’s eyes. “I…,” he began, but could not find the words. The way Avriel looked at him took his breath away. Sensing this, she quickly smiled and dared walk to him. He turned from her and her hands clung to empty air. He left her there and hurried out into the night.
Whill walked through the congregation of elves, and though he tried to hide himself, a commotion began to commence around him. In short time he was so surrounded by gleaming elves that he could not press through the crowd easily. Whill thought to call upon Avriel so that he could fly far from there, but then he remembered she was an elf again. He began to panic. His breath came in short, frantic gasps and his chest tightened.
“Let me pass!” he bellowed, and all talking ceased in a heartbeat. The dismayed elves parted before him as wood to an axe. Whill sighed, embarrassed, and offered apologies as he quickly walked through the crowd.
“Bah!” came a voice. “Ain’t no king alive who’s got to be askin’ crowds to be movin’ for him, nor any need to apologize for expectin’ common sense!” Roakore roared as he split the crowds before him with his sheer presence. He scowled at the crowd as he met Whill.
“I be guessin’ common sense ain’t so common round these parts,” he said to the elves. “Eh, laddie?” He slapped Whill on the back hard enough to make him stumble. Roakore put him in a one-armed headlock, pulling him down to the side as they parted the crowd.
“C’mon, then. We got ourselves a right large beer tent set up already. The kegs be tapped and the spirits be flowin’.”
“To the three kings and the three races!” a dwarf cheered, and all the dwarves guzzled.
“To pissin’ on a dragon’s tail!” another put in. Laughter and drinking filled the tent.
“To Whill o’ Agora!” yelled another, and again they drank.
Whill wondered how long they could keep this up. He yelled over the crowd, standing taller than all. “To the good dwarves o’ Ro’Sar!” he cheered, and they drank to themselves.
“To hoggin’ on damsels!” Philo yelled, and ended his cheer with a loud raucous burp. There was silence for a moment as dwarves looked at each other curiously.
“Hear, hear!” said Roakore, and they all drank.
Thankfully, the dwarven cheers subsided for a time and Whill was introduced to yet more of Roakore’s warriors. Philo slammed his fist to his chest and snorted to clear his throat. “Well met, Whill. I hear you got yourself a blade o’ power.” His eyes went to the sheathed blade. Whill reflexively turned it from the dwarf. Their eyes met and Philo took on a serious tone. “It ain’t the size o’ the sword o’ power, laddie, it be how you use it,” he said, straight-faced. Suddenly the dwarf burst into frantic laughter that was taken up by all.
Roakore pushed Philo to the side. “Go on, ye maniac.” And Philo stumbled off in a fit of laughter.
Whill watched, amused. As always, Roakore had lifted his spirits. Just being around the hearty, life-filled dwarves made him feel better. For a time he forgot about the Other, and everything else.
Whill of Agora: Book 03 - A Song of Swords Page 26
