Whill of Agora: Book 03 - A Song of Swords

by Michael Ploof

  “I know what you mean,” said Whill, joining his friend. “I had to move to a cave in the thousand falls to get away.”

  “I be believin’ it.” Roakore stared absently at his book.

  “Can I get you anything?” Whill asked.

  “Ye got anythin’ to wet the whistle?” said Roakore, tonguing his mouth. “An’ ye best be openin’ a window if you got one.”

  “No windows,” said Will, getting up to fetch a drink. “The elves even built dwarven wind tubes into this mock dwarf mountain.”

  Roakore eyed the room and walls with a scowl. “This ain’t nothin’ like a dwarf mountain.”

  Whill turned from the stacked gifts he had received as he inspected a bottle. “It is as good a copy as I have ever seen.”

  Roakore only grumbled and lit his pipe.

  “Elven cider?” Whill asked.

  “Cider? Lad, give me somethin’ that’ll be turnin’ me curlies straight.”

  Whill frowned at his friend and returned to the table with the cider, a bottle of dessyberry wine, and a brick of cheese. The elves had given him a pile of gifts, and he was thinking about getting a separate room for it all.

  “What is on your mind, Roakore?” he asked as he poured him a glass of dessyberry wine. “You cannot be this flustered over curious elves.”

  Roakore nodded thanks for the wine and gulped down the whole thing. He offered the glass and Whill pulled back the bottle stubbornly.

  “What is going on? Are you nervous about traveling through the portal?” Whill asked.

  Roakore moved his mouth as if to speak but could only stutter.

  “You can still back out,” Whill teased.

  “Back out!” Roakore finally stammered. “Nervous? I ain’t been nervous since the time it burned to pee. No, it ain’t that, it be this damned book. It be the reason I be here.”

  Whill focused then upon the tome of Ky’Dren and reached to touch it. Roakore flinched but let Whill take it up.

  “The one you found within the elven library. Of course, you wanted me to translate it then. Roakore, I had forgotten.”

  “You can read it, then, and tell no one what ye learn?”

  “Of course. What are you afr—what do you think you will find?”

  “I ain’t for knowin’, but I ain’t for likin’ the implications laid by that Azzeal. Says Ky’Dren was from Drindellia, an’ yer right for thinkin’ I be afraid o’ that book, if I was ever afraid o’ anything.” Roakore’s eyes never left the book; they seemed to look through it. His eyes widened and one twitched now and again.

  Whill filled Roakore’s glass and cut a chunk of cheese off the block. The dwarf just stared. “Don’t read it, then,” said Whill.

  Roakore’s incredulous eyes snapped to him. “I got to be knowin’. This be the word o’ Ky’Dren.”

  Whill laid the book on the table and straightened to the task. “Look at this writing.” He whistled. “It is beautiful…and long. Roakore, this will take all day to read.”

  “Then we be readin’ all day,” replied Roakore, snatching up the bottle and pouring himself the wine.

  “Wait!” said Whill, suddenly excited. “I changed parts of my…I can speed-read this book.”

  “Well, that don’t be helpin’ me to speed-hear it.”

  “No, but I may be able to share the experience.”

  “How about we just read it normal-like,” said Roakore, puffing on the pipe between his teeth.

  “No, I can do this. Move closer. Here.” Whill indicated to the left of himself and got comfortable. Roakore shuffled his chair over noisily and with a frustrated sigh. Whill laid the book out and put a finger under the first page, then placed his left hand upon Roakore’s forehead. The dwarf followed the hand apprehensively until he was cross-eyed looking up at it.

  “Don’t be fryin’ me damned brain!”

  “You have my word.” Whill took three calming breaths. He began to read slowly in his mind and mentally projected it onto Roakore. The dwarf gasped and laughed. “Faster!” he begged.

  Whill picked up the pace until he was scanning a page in a few seconds, the entire tale coming into view in his mind. A sweeping landscape of mountains deep and valleys long played out. Gold and silver and diamonds and jewels, thriving dwarven cities and a kingdom of peace stretched out before their imagination as a tale of glory and sorrow was spun. During those times, the dwarves named the elves friend, and from them they learned many things, including stone melding.

  Ky’Dren spoke of his line, for he named himself the twenty-seventh in the line of Du’Wrenden, and eldest son to the king. The dwarves had prospered for centuries and lived well from trade with the elves. The mountain kingdom of Du’Wrenden thrived until the arrival of the dragons. The elves called it the great migration; the dwarves called it a war waged by the gods. Du’Wrenden was overwhelmed overnight by thousands of dragons, and while the dwarves were as legendary fighters as any, the dragons were too many. The elves at first helped in the battle, but quickly their dead piled and their resolve waned. They drew back on the sixth day and offered to help the dwarves to retreat. The dwarves would have none of it. The dwarf king refused and the dwarves closed themselves up in their mountain. For more than a year they held out inside their mountain, and for more than a year the dragons waited. The beasts continued to arrive throughout the year, and soon their numbers doubled and then tripled. They marked their territory one hundred miles around the mountain in all directions, and killed any trespassers by the droves. The dwarven lore masters eventually agreed with the elves: this mountain, it seemed, was an ancient dragon breeding ground. The dragons were there to breed and lay their eggs, and they would allow no threat to their young. The elves took their losses and retreated from the shadow of the mountain, forced to bring their trade with them.

  Supplies were immediately rationed, but as the year wore on, the supplies dwindled and the dwarves slowly starved. Tunnels had been ordered dug, and some hunting came from the surrounding forests. But always the dragons sniffed them out. Dragon fire engulfed the tunnels and dragon claws dug them out all the way back to the mountain. No matter how many miles the dwarves dug, the dragons always found them. It was believed that the dragons could hear or feel the disturbance in the earth below. The beasts tunneled into the mountain themselves, burrowing deep and digging into the dwarves’ own halls and cities. Dragon fire decimated the dwarves, and though many dragons fell, they took with them hundreds.

  The dwarves lost city after city along the mountain range and poured, starving, into the deepest and most fortified capital city of Thengar. There they made their last stand, and there the dragons ignited a chamber of gas from the earth’s bowels. The blast was the end of the dwarves, and the dwarven mountain kingdom was conquered, the last of the dwarves defeated. Many lived on to starve or die fighting along the mountain range, but only a handful escaped. Ky’Dren had led that group.

  The tale ended the day they left, and Whill closed the book. He released Roakore and the dwarf king gasped for breath. He stood so fast that his chair skidded across the floor.

  “How in the hells did he end up in Agora, and why ain’t there any record o’ this from his gospel? It don’t make no sense. This be directly contrary to the scripture.”

  Whill stretched his sore muscles. Though he had speed-read the tome, it had still taken nearly an hour. “We do not know that this book is true. Perhaps the lore masters can help shed light on its authenticity.”

  “Shed light? I ain’t wantin’ no light shed on this…this…blasphemy. Be ye understandin’ what this would do to me religion, to me culture? If this be true, everything we live for be a lie!”

  “But it could be also seen as liberating,” Whill offered, trying to see the bright side.

  “Liberating?” Roakore spat.

  “Yes. If this is indeed true, if Ky’Dren learned stone melding from the elves, and you can do the same because you are of his line, then that means that you can move not only stone, but
anything. It means that any dwarf can learn the elven ways.”

  “I ain’t for carin’ to learn the elven ways!” Roakore yelled as he paced. “Didn’t ye hear? The elves let the dragons wipe out me people.”

  “You said yourself we don’t know if it is true,” said Whill, at a loss.

  Roakore would not be consoled; nothing Whill said calmed him down. The dwarf king grabbed the bottle from the table and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Whill asked, getting up.

  “I need to think!” said Roakore and slammed the door behind him.

  Whill could only look after his friend with concern in his heart.

  Chapter 34

  Homeland

  Aurora instructed the elves to the harbor of the capital city of stone named Grethen Dar. As they neared the harbor Aurora first realized that these were not mere fisherman that escorted her, judging by the armor they soon donned and the weapons they carried. Azzeal informed her that indeed these were his druids, each a master of one or more school of Orna Catorna.

  "They are fourteen in number, each able to transform into one of seven of your people's tribal animals."

  "One of seven of my people's... They will think that I command the spirits of the seven?" Aurora began to shake her head. "No, I cannot make such a claim, it is not right."

  "It will gain their favor quickly," said Azzeal. "And it is true is it not? Surely one with the tribes at heart has the favor of the spirits?"

  "You are right," she decided. "You have thought this through haven't you?"

  "I have tried." said Azzeal as the boat docked.

  There was not a soul to be found in the harbor. The boat was tied off promptly and Aurora touched her native homeland for the first time in a long time. It was good to be home. But something felt wrong about the place. The rift loomed in the distance beyond the snow covered hill that led to Grethen Dar. The sense of evil was nearly palpable. It came as a strange scent upon the wind, a feeling of foreboding that left her cold in her furs and elven cloak.

  Azzeal and his druids took to land and before Aurora's eyes they changed into the spirit animals of her people. Two there were each, bear, eagle, hawk, snow cat, fox, dragon, and finally her own tribe's timber wolf. The elves in animal form regarded Aurora with quiet anticipation. She looked upon them with joy in her heart.

  "Stay nearby," she informed them. "I will call out the chief of the seven and when I give word, come forth."

  The elves took to the forest at the foot of the hillside two by two and disappeared within. Azzeal remained at her side as he promised he would. They began up the hill but did not veer towards the city. Instead they traveled to the snowy field on the other side of the city to the south.

  An hour later they reached the high bluff that marked the very fields upon which her father had fallen. Aurora stood upon the plains and took in the crisp air; it was a good day to die. Her sword was sheathed; upon her back she wore her shield. She looked to the dragonlance and to Azzeal.

  "It is time," she said to him. "Lend your magic to my voice."

  Azzeal nodded and raised a hand before her. Aurora spoke the words that she had waited to say for years.

  "Icethorn!" her voice boomed with Azzeal's enchantment. It echoed over the hills like rolling thunder. "I challenge you chieftain of the seven! Come and answer the challenge of Aurora Snowfell!"

  Her resolve was strengthened by the sound of her own booming voice. A horn answered her challenge. It rang out in a long deep keening that was heard for miles. The horn announced to all that there had been a challenge. Another, deeper horn bellowed forth, this one in answer to the challenge. Aurora's heart leapt in anticipation of the coming battle.

  From the direction of he rift opposite the city and harbor there came the thunderous pounding of horses. Then too the sound came from the city. Soon a ruckus approached them from all sides as barbarians both mounted and on foot migrated to the field to bear witness to the challenge. Whispers of elf and Aurora Snowfell began to circle them as the hour passed and hundreds arrived. She assumed the fourteen elves to be watching from the woods, for no cries had yet announced their discovery.

  "Aurora!" her mother ran to her from the crowd. She looked to have aged greatly in Aurora's absence. Her mother reached her and threw herself at her with open arms. Aurora embraced her tearful mother and felt the strength still left in her old bones.

  "Oh my brave daughter what have you done!" she asked through her tears.

  "I shall have my revenge. Mother, it is alright, we will talk after I kill Icethorn," said Aurora gently pushing her away.

  All heads turned as the screeching roar of a dragon echoed from the city. Aurora knew the cry of that dragon well; ever did it play in her dreams. It was the cry of Icethorn's dragon Czarra

  "Be safely away mother," said Aurora as she gently pushed her and brought her shield to bear.

  "I love you Aurora," cried her mother as she was pulled along by two men.

  "No final words mother, I shall live to see this night."

  Czarra came into view over the city and flew quickly to the field to circle high above. Icethorn came down swiftly and flew low over Aurora and Azzeal and the crowd. The dragon roared as they passed and even the toughest of the barbarians were forced to cover their ears. Czarra landed before Aurora with a great flapping of wings that kicked up a bitter-cold whirlwind of ice and snow.

  The crowd of barbarians had reached the thousands, and Aurora realized that they must have already been gathered within the city, likely due to the looming threat of the rift that crackled with lightning far to the south. The seven tribes stretched out around the field in a circle giving the two fighters a wide berth. The biting wind coupled with the overcast sky gave the day a dreary feel, but Aurora felt not the cold. The felt only her rage; she saw only her enemy.

  Icethorn sat high upon his saddle at the base of his dragon's neck. Czarra the black glared at Aurora as if she were food and took four quick steps that brought the beast to within feet of her. Aurora found her courage and held her ground. Icethorn would not allow the dragon to attack her without a formal acceptance of the challenge, it would be considered cowardly. For the same reason Aurora stayed her fingers from pressing the gem that would extract the lance and likely kill Czarra. Icethorn pulled back his mount as he stared at Azzeal. The leaf-clad elf stood defiantly before him.

  "What is this?" Icethorn asked the crowd as his mount was turned in a circle. "My ears decieve and mine eyes lie! Did I not hear challenge given strong? Why do I see no warrior before me.?

  "I stand before you blind coward. Aurora Snowfell, daughter of Wolfbane Snowfell of the Timberwolf Tribe. I claim my bloodright as my father's daughter. I challenge thee."

  Icethorn gave a hearty laugh and his heavy knotted black locks whipped his bare back. He wore seven heavy plates of armor strapped to his body with thick knotted braids of leather. Above heavy boots upon each shin were two plates or armor, the left was adorned with the standard of bear tribe, the right bore the howling face of the timber wolf. The plate armor upon his thighs depicted the fox and snow cat tribes. Upon his shoulders were large pauldrons engraved with the hawk and eagle. Dragon tribe was left for his thick chestplate of steel. His fur cloak of many tails blew in the wind. He regarded Aurora with wicked eyes set close behind a braided beard. The warpaint upon his face matched the black of his dragon; its sharp lines highlighted his fierce features.

  "Your bloodright as daughter!" Icethorn laughed and many of the gathered barbarians joined in. "Daughters have no bloodright to challenge their father's killer," said Icethorn.

  "Nor do you have the right of claim as chief of the seven. When you took control of the tribes, you broke all bonds of rights and law. I challenge you Icethorn to the death. I have the spirits of the seven with me, and I will jot be denied."

  On cue startled proclamations began to ring out and in many places the barbarians began to part. Icethorn looked angrily to see what the cause was
. Soon a pair of bears emerged into the circle, followed by timberwolves and two huge foxes. To everyone's astonishment two great eagles and hawks swooped down to land behind Aurora. Out came the snow cats and finally and to everyone's awe, a pair of shimmering dragons landed before dragon tribe.

  The crowd broke into frenzy. Women pulled at their hair, elders fell to the ground before the animals. The tribes fell in worship of their respective spirit animals. The elves had played their part perfectly. Aurora thumbed the ruby and the lance extended once.

  She took four purposeful steps towards Icethorn and brought her shield to bear. The chieftain laughed and waved her away.

  "You are food for my pet daughter Snowfell. Czarra she is yours," he said stepping aside. The black dragon lurched forth and spat a thin line of fire. Aurora quickly brought up her shield and cocked back the dragonlance of Ashai. Her arm was bathed in dragonfire as it thrust forth and the pointed end shot through the air from the main shaft and impaled the dragon through the head.

  The crowd gasped as Czarra lurched back from the blow and reeled to the side scattering fox tribe. Aurora screamed through the pain of her burns and charged the faltering dragon. It fell and pawed drunkenly at the lance buried in its head. Aurora leapt upon its fore leg and with a war cry buried her longsword under its jaw. Czarra gave a strangled roar and spasmed; then he moved no more. Aurora swooned from the pain and pulled her blade free. She ignored her charred wounds and turned to Icethorn and let out a roar of her own.

  The chieftain regarded her with burning hatred. He unsheathed a seven-foot long sword with sawed edges, and also a great one-handed battleaxe. Icethorn clanged the blades together and pumped his legs into a charge. Aurora answered the call and sped leaping from the dragon towards her enemy. They came together with a clash of metal. Icethorn was the bigger of the two by far, but Aurora came down upon him from on high. She shield-bashed the giant barbarian as he swung up with his axe and sent it wide; the collision left them both standing on solid footing. With matching growls they met with swords high above their heads. In came the axe from the side; out wide again went the shield. Aurora struck with sword low and Icethorn drove her blade into the dirt. He swung his axe to distract from his intentions as he slipped inside her reach. Aurora knew his mind and twirled away behind the guard of her shield. Icethorn came on banging axe and then sword heavily against her shield. She struck from behind it straight out and drew first blood as she sliced his leg above the plate armor. Axe and sword came together in a blow that sent her tumbling across the grass. A sword landed upon her shield as she rolled and blocked. Icethorn hooked the shield with the curved blade of his axe and tore it from Aurora's grasp. The sword came down again and she was forced to block with her own. Towering above her Icethorn brought his axe down from the side. She brought her her sword down across herself and jabbed it into the ground to block. The axe hewn it in two and was turned in its flight. Aurora was hit hard in the head by the deflected axe and rolled blindly to her side. She got up quickly but stumbled as the world spun and her vision blurred. Icethorn kicked her in the chest and she landed hard on her back. She rolled over onto her abandoned dragonlance shaft.