Whill of Agora: Book 03 - A Song of Swords

by Michael Ploof

  Trapped within his mind, Whill fought the memories and the crushing fear but to no avail. It was not until Avriel’s hand upon his shoulder caused the Other to lose his concentration in her eyes. The spell ceased and Whill was suddenly able to mentally wrestle the Other for control of his body. He fell to a knee and panted as he stared out over the destruction the Other had wrought.

  Cheers rang out as elves and dwarves alike celebrated the destruction of the armies. Rain soon put out the purple flames and smoldering bodies littering the valley for miles. Through the rift the draggard armies stopped marching and it became quiet.

  Avriel, with her hand still upon Whill’s shoulder, turned him to face her. Gone were the Other’s scars and blood. She smiled at him with concern. “Are you all right? I could not contact you, there was a shadow…was it—”

  “It is all right, I am fine.” He suddenly noticed the entirety of the elven and dwarven armies watching him. “Let us bring the fight to them! To the rift!” he yelled above Avriel, and then gave her a long, fierce kiss that sent the dwarves into louder cheers.

  The armies charged over the smoldering remains of the draggard armies down into the valley. Through the rift, all that could be seen were stars in a clear black sky. The wind near the rift blew at high speeds and made advancement hard. Dirt and debris flew around the mouth of the rift and the armies soon came to a halt before it. Whill walked a few steps closer and turned back to his friends.

  Without a word, Whill summoned the courage and flew from the ground up and into the rift.

  Chapter 39

  Chieftain of the Seven

  None stood to challenge Aurora that day, and soon word had spread throughout all of Volnoss. Aurora Snowfell, the Chieftain of the Seven, had defeated Icethorn, and now called all warriors to the rift.

  A camp had been made close to the rift that night, and by morning the warriors of the seven tribes began to file onto the Gretchnar Hills, where the mysterious portal had appeared only days ago. Any that had gone through the rift had not come back out, but that did not stop brave barbarian warriors from going through also.

  Aurora met with the chiefs of the seven tribes and learned that the rift had appeared but nothing had yet come through. She told them to rouse their armies and have them there immediately. The chiefs complied and soon the vast stretching camps of the seven armies grew around the portal.

  She looked out over her vast army on the fifth day and felt such pride that she was overwhelmed by tears. She was the chieftain of the seven, she had avenged her father, and she would lead her people to glory. Aurora was confident now that she was free of Eadon's curse.

  Azzeal came to stand beside her as she surveyed her army from on high. Her tent had been set up on the highest bluff overlooking the rift. Through the portal could be seen bright stars against a background of dark. The stars shifted nearly unnoticed within the rift, whose crown of storm cloud and lightning never ceased to rage.

  "Soon they will come forth from the rift, and you will be tested," said Azzeal at her side.

  Aurora looked down at him and scowled. "I answer not to Eadon."

  She expected Azzeal to once again argue the point, but he did not. Aurora had gotten to know the elf well enough to know that something was amiss. He had a look in his eyes she had not seen him wear. He seemed distance, as if a great burden weighed upon his mind.

  "What is it?" she finally asked when he would not meet her gaze.

  Azzeal jerked as if he had been roused from a trance. He met her eyes searching, and finally looked away.

  "I am master of many schools of Orna Catorna. Others I have studied and have some skill in."

  Aurora looked to him waiting, she began to feel as though she did not want to hear what came next, so heavy was the weight of his words.

  "I have had a vision of the near future." he said with uncharacteristic intensity.

  "Soon the rift will empty, and your debt shall be due," he explained.

  "I die, is that it?" she asked with a raised chin. "So be it, my people will fight on in my stead. The dark elves shall not have Volnoss. I will die defying Eadon."

  Azzeal shook his head gently with her every word. "Will you?" he asked, clearly angered by her words.

  Aurora turned on him with anger of her own. "Yes! My life is forfiet; I have done what I came here to do. If my pledge of fealty remains then I shall die defying it.”

  "Even at the expense of your tribes?" Azzeal asked.

  "What do you know?" she asked, tired of his riddles.

  Azzeal would not meet her eyes. His haunted gaze looked beyond the army and rift below.

  "I have never had much interest in the art of Aklenar. It is a difficult and dangerous practice. Many elves with the gift have gone mad trying to decipher the future. For once it is seen..." he looked to her and smiled weakly. "Remember this, if you side with Eadon, you will wish you had died instead."

  Azzeal turned and was gone in a shower of falling feathers. Aurora heard his words again in her mind. What had he seen that had shaken him so? What would she do? Was she truly prepared to die and leave the fate of her people to the gods?

  "Many ghosts haunt you this night," said a voice.

  Aurora whipped her head and scoured the tent. From the large open window she could see the entire room. It held little place to hide. She wondered if she had imagined the voice when it came again.

  "My master told me that you were a rare specimen, 'a beauty of the north to match the fire burning strong within her', he had said."

  The ground at the center of the tent bulged and grew. Grass and dirt fell away leaving a dark figure standing before her. Aurora reached for her sword but an unseen force held it firm.

  "That won't be necessary," said the figure.

  Although it was an hour before sunset and even with the many candles alit in the tent, a shadow played around the figure leaving him cloaked in darkness. The voice was none she recognized.

  "I am Zander, it is an honor to finally meet you... general." said Zander.

  "General? If I am a general of yours release my sword arm."

  Zander nodded curtly and Aurora felt the grip let up. As soon as she was free she unsheathed her blade and had it at the phantom's throat in a heartbeat.

  "Who sent you?"

  "You know who sent me."

  "Why did you call me your general?"

  "Because you are my general."

  "Enough of the games!"

  Zander turned to black smoke which swirled around Aurora and flew to a chair at her large table. He solidified sitting back easy with one leg over the other. The shadow had left him. Aurora stared across the room at a devilishly handsome dark elf with swirling dark red tattoos of intricate patterns and arching symbols. She shuddered with realization.

  "Eadon," she whispered.

  "My master, and yours as well," Zander smirked and his long pointed eyebrows lifted lightly his black bangs.

  Zander indicated the chair opposite himself with a gloves finger set with a long curved metal talon. His arm and body alike were bound with twisted leather and black shining metal; over his shoulder and draped about him was a cloak of living shadow. A sapphire the size of a fist was set at the center of his chest, it pulsed faintly casting a light red aura about him. Aurora took the seat; she felt very small before the dark elf. Her vow of fealty to Eadon played out maddeningly in the back of her mind. She wanted to flee, flip the table and run, run far from here.

  "So soon you have forgotten your vow?" Zender asked with a small scowl. "Do not tell Zander Miak that you stand conflicted."

  Aurora could not speak, her head swam sickeningly. Her vow to Eadon blended with that cursed voice relentlessly singing "coward at your back".

  Zander moved to speak low across the table as if conspiring. "Our master has the entire country in a choke hold. All of the rifts save this one have poured forth his magnificent armies. Mighty Eldalon has fallen, the dwarf mountains have been compromised, and as we speak
Cyrushia falls. What is it that you ponder?"

  Aurora failed to hide her shock in hearing of the fate of Agora. Where was Azzeal, why had he abandoned her? She remembered her words to the elf; her promise that she would die rather than join Eadon. But what of her people?

  "It sounds as though there is no use for us. It sounds as though we have won," said Aurora trying to relay bored detachment. Zander's eyes told her that he was no fool.

  "There is much to do. The dwarf mountains will take years to route. The barbarians will be glad to return to northern Ky'Dren will they not? T'was once yours was it not, named then (enter name). The horn of Eldalon as well; it shall fall upon your people to conquer and claim that as land."

  Zander moved like a stalking cat around the table to kneel at her feet. "I see your heart Aurora, it is good that you are bound by honor. But where does your guilt and loyalty lie? Your people were murdered by humans and dwarves. Tossed from Agora like animals and left to die on this frozen wasteland. The time for tears is past, now is time for justice."

  Aurora listened to the dark elf enchanted. His words weaved a beautiful tapestry of reclamation and conquest, a return of her people's honor and homelands. A tear found her cheek and she knew why Azzeal had left. Another spilled down her opposite cheek and she knew what he had seen. Aurora put her hands to the dark elf's shoulders and she grinned. "Let us begin."

  Chapter 40

  The Lady and the Wolf

  The explosion threw Dirk back into the catapult with so much force that he was knocked unconscious. Had the enchantments about his armor not absorbed the brunt of the blast, he would have been destroyed. What armor was left had been drained of power and was now no more than leather and metal.

  His ears hammered and he could hear nothing of the world. In a daze he blinked at the smoldering world and knew he must be dreaming. There, standing between himself and the seething hordes, was Krentz. In one hand she held her blade and from the other she blasted draggard with spells. Her tight, sleek armor reflected the dancing flames around them with its seamless sheen; it looked as though she wore black ice.

  He drifted in and out of dreams. In one he helplessly watched Krentz fight a dark elf. In another he watched as whirlwinds of smoke and ash flew up as a brilliant dragon with silver feathers landed and began ravishing monsters mercilessly. In his final dream Dirk watched the rift float by as if time had slowed. Beneath him Fyrfrost steadily beat his wings, and Krentz’s sweet voice hushed him back into deep dreamless sleep.

  He awoke in a field of tall golden wheat next to a thick forest. His armor was gone, and he wore nothing at all. Instantly he became alert to his surroundings. He crouched on all fours and peeked over the wheat to the dark forest. Sound came from within, a soft hummed song that was hauntingly familiar to him. He was drawn into the woods by the voice—by her voice.

  Dirk followed Krentz’s humming and came to a small clearing. There hanging from an oak tree were his underclothes. He pulled on his trousers and laced them up as he looked around at the apparent camp. He quickly realized the humming had stopped. He walked into the clearing, and through the trees on the other side came Krentz. The low morning sun shone through clouds, sending beams of light dancing through the clearing.

  “This is real?” Dirk asked hopefully as he walked slowly toward Krentz and she to him.

  “It is.” She smiled.

  “Before…that wasn’t a dream?” he asked, coming closer.

  “No.” She laughed and hugged her lover.

  Dirk took in the smell of her hair and knew it to be true. “But how?” he asked, backing his head and looking her over. “You defy the will of Eadon as we speak. How did you get out of the relic? Where are we?”

  She kissed him for a long, soft moment. “It is over, my love. We are free.”

  “But how?” he insisted.

  Krentz lowered her gaze and turned. She walked into the clearing and Dirk followed. Her right hand found her left arm and held it the way that she did when she had something she did not want to say. It was a nervous tic Dirk knew well. She led him to the middle of the clearing and turned to sit with him.

  “When I went into the spirit world with the wolf…something happened that broke my vow of fealty. I must obey it no longer. We are free.”

  “What happened?” asked Dirk, squeezing her hand and hoping it was anything but what he guessed.

  Krentz took a deep breath through her nose and smiled sympathetically. “I died.”

  Dirk swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair as if wanting to tear it out.

  “It is not your fault, it is not a bad thing, it was the only way,” she told him urgently, but he was not convinced.

  “How were you revived?” he asked, touching her warm flesh.

  She turned her head to the side and moved away from him to stand. Turning to face him, she wore the same shy look she had the first time they had laid together.

  “I wasn’t,” she said, rubbing her arm. He rose to come to her but she stepped back and held out a halting hand.

  “Don’t. I must show you.”

  Dirk nodded slowly and stood opposite her. Before his eyes she became translucent and turned to silver-gray smoke. Astonished, Dirk watched as the smoke snaked its way around him, causing him to turn with it. She took form once again before him but remained translucent.

  “You are…?” Dirk struggled to speak past his sorrow. “You are a ghost? I have killed you?” he said with the heavy weight of guilt. He reached for her but his hand moved through her as if through air. The hairs on his arm stood up and he looked upon her painfully.

  “You have freed me,” she argued as she materialized and took his hands in hers. “Only through death could I be free of the curse. You have given me that, and I have come back to you.” She gave him a smile he did not share.

  “But your body…where…?”

  “I do not know. When I went into the spirit world, my body…it changed. Now I am like the wolf. I am of the spirit world.”

  Dirk’s tears threatened to fall and she pulled him onto a kiss. “I was prepared to die for you. This was the only way. Now we can be together. Now we are free.”

  “Krentz, I never meant for this—”

  “There was no other way,” she insisted.

  “There is always another way. I meant to trap you within the relic until I had sought out help.”

  “Help from whom?”

  “Whill. He is in possession of the ancient blade. I had hoped—”

  “Even if he could help, would he? You betrayed his trust, and I am a dark elf. No help would have come from him. No help will come from anyone, you know that.”

  Dirk sighed and sat again upon the grass. He looked around curiously at the forest. “Where are we? What day is it?” he asked.

  “Don’t you recognize it? This is Eldon Island. You have slept a day and a night. You needed it—what have you been doing to yourself? You had nearly enough adrenaline and dragonroot in your system to kill you, and you have barely eaten.” She lectured him as she always had.

  She was back, they were together, and they were free. The realization hit Dirk like a brick and he smiled. He suddenly rushed forward to kiss Krentz and she met him with equal urgency. They clung to each other in the afternoon sun as the pressure of the last few weeks finally lifted like the weight of a mountain. They were not only free of Eadon, they were free from worry.

  They talked for hours and Dirk ate. Roasted cronies, wild onions, roots, and nuts were their dinner, and it was the most delicious food he had ever eaten.

  Dirk told Krentz about his race to Kell-Torey from the portal in Uthen-Arden nearly a week before. And she told him her tale. How she had been gifted great power by her father, power that he did not give often or to many. How she had tried to sneak away, had tried to run. But the more she moved against her father, even in thought, the more she was pained. She could not even move to kill herself, or be killed. She tried to explain that she had not chosen to kil
l the royals of Eldalon, that it had been impossible to disobey. Dirk knew she was pleading her innocence to herself as much to him.

  “The children, the families…I can still see their faces, I can still hear their surprise. I was the harbinger of death to the innocent…I—”

  “Stop,” said Dirk with a hand to her shoulder. “You did nothing. You were used, you were merely a weapon. Is the sword capable of murder?” He lifted her chin and released it roughly. “Remember the code that you taught me? You have not broken it.”

  “I killed an entire family!” She suddenly erupted into tears.

  Dirk held her and rocked her gently. The wind picked up and the smell of thunderstorm rain filled the air. He looked around at the blowing trees and suddenly to Krentz, making the connection.

  “Shh, do not punish yourself. You know that you are innocent in this. If you have guilt, only then are your tears justified.” He made her look at him. “Did you want to do it?”

  “No!” she cried, giving him a stabbing look.

  “Did you enjoy it?” he pressed.

  “No!” she yelled again, now angry. Lightning flashed in the distance and a crackling boom of thunder soon followed.

  “Then stop this childish behavior! Or do you mean to ravish the world?” he asked, gesturing to the storm growing around them.