Whill of Agora: Book 1 - Michael Ploof (e book reader for pc .TXT) 📗

for more than an hour, well into dawn. As the sun began to rise, the city of Do’Adore became visible. As they approached a large dock, where there was a fleet of small fishing boats, a great horn sounded from the trees; it was answered by another from within the city. Abram gently and masterfully steered the ship to the dock, and an Eldonian man secured a line.

The city was amazing. It had no great buildings, and no barrier separating it from the surrounding land. It consisted of thousands of large huts, each with smoke coming from a small chimney. The huts were identical, though some were larger than others. This, Whill had learned while listening to the Eldonian men speak of their village, was only due to the size of each family living within. Social status was not reflected in the size of one’s home, or in the things one might own. Each person had a purpose, and each purpose was vital to the survival of the people. Whill wondered why more people didn’t live in this manner. While others fought viciously over things they did not need—and in the end, brought them no lasting joy—the Eldonians lived in harmony with their surroundings, celebrating and sharing in good fortune, and mourning each other’s losses.

As the former slaves went down the ramp to the beach, they were greeted by their kin. Sobbing and laughing jubilantly, they hugged and kissed the family and friends who had thought them lost at sea.

Whill was reluctant to leave the ship, his guilt still weighing heavily on his heart. Abram came over to him. “Look, Whill, at the joy we have brought to so many people. If not for our actions, these people would never have returned. They would have died along with those other men. Don’t you see the good that has come from something so terrible? Those men would have died anyway, or been worked to death by Cirrosa and his men. If you had not won the tournament, Cirrosa would never have pursued us, and these people would not have a second chance at the life they love so. Everything happens for a reason, Whill. Take comfort in the joy you see before you.”

Whill knew Abram was right, and he told him so. Together with Tarren, they made their way onto the beach and were introduced by the Eldonians as great saviors of the sea. Blushing and feeling very uncomfortable, Whill nevertheless accepted hugs from the Eldonian women. Most were dressed in long hooded robes, due to the morning chill, but some wore only cloth covering their genitals. The men carried long thin spears, and some brandished swords.

The Eldonians insisted that they join them in a celebration meal. What Whill expected to be a small breakfast turned out to be a grand feast and celebration that lasted late into the day. By the time they were ready to leave, the sun was beginning to set. The surviving men and the chief walked them back to Old Charlotte, followed by what seemed to be the entire island population. As they approached the ship, the chief spoke.

“Once again, thank you for returning our people. We are forever in your debt and at your service. If ever you are in need, please, think of Eldon as an ally. You are welcome here eternally.” With that he bowed, as did the rest of the people of Eldon. Whill, Abram and Tarren bowed in return and made their way onto the ship. As they set sail once again, with Abram at the wheel, Whill and Tarren watched the people of Eldon wave happily after them. Night fell as the three companions sailed toward Sherna.

––––––––

The deep blue sky had made way for a blackened one, and the stars awoke. They shone brightly in their heavenly realm, untouchable diamonds of the night. With the stars came a chill that rode on the whispering winds and clung to Whill’s bones like a long-lost love. Carrying an oil lantern, he went below to fetch his wolf-hide coat. It hung above his cot, which was now occupied by Tarren. The boy slept peacefully, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. But to Whill he appeared too peaceful, too still, as though death had come back to reclaim him—to fulfill a fate which had been altered. He nudged Tarren on the shoulder, and to his relief the boy rolled over, mumbling something inaudible.

Satisfied, he pulled a blanket up to the boy’s chin and retrieved his coat before silently returning to the deck. Abram was still at the wheel, sailing steadily east. Whill joined his friend, and for a while they stood in comfortable silence, sailing by moonlight. They were lucky to have the benefit of a full moon. Abram seemed mesmerized by its reflection upon the water, and more at peace than he had in a great while.

Noticing Whill staring at him, Abram simply smiled. “Is Tarren sleeping soundly?”

Whill turned his gaze to the water once more. “Out cold. He did have a long day.”

Abram laughed. “Didn’t we all. You should get some rest too. You must be tired, having not slept last night.”

Whill shook his head. “No, I’m not; I’m wide awake. I guess two days rest is enough for a while. I’ll take over for a bit, Abram; you haven’t slept either. I’ll wake you at dawn. If this wind keeps steady; we’ll be in Sherna well before noon. I’ll rest then.”

“Alright, Whill.” Abram gave him a pat on the back and stretched with a great yawn before heading to the sleeping quarters.

“Wait,” Whill said. “What do we do with Tarren? We can’t see him safely back to Fendale personally.”

Abram turned at the stair. “Do not forget we have a wealth of diamonds. Once in Sherna we will find a good woman to look after him until we return from the mountains. Then we will go to Kell-Torey to meet with the king. He will see to it that Tarren finds safe passage back to Fendale. Worry not, Whill.” With that, he disappeared below and left him alone with the moon and stars.

Whill took the wheel and once again let his mind drift with the waters. He thought of Tarren, and how amazing it still seemed that he had healed him. Only the elves had the power to heal with energy; if Whill was not of elven blood, then what could the explanation be? Also, if he could heal, what other powers did he possess? Could he also use his abilities to fight as they did? The ocean held no answers. Only within the mountains would Whill find any revelation.

As he sailed steadily east, the sun began to rise. The blackness of the night sky was replaced slowly by a dark blue. As the stars disappeared, the horizon glowed orange with hints of radiant pinks, reds, and purples. When the sun finally showed its face, it gleamed down upon the world with the magnificence and splendor of a god.

Whill secured the wheel and quickly went below to wake Abram. Though he meant not to, he woke Tarren as well. Soon the three friends were enjoying a simple breakfast of fish, gifts from the Eldonians. They passed the remaining time of their journey mostly answering Tarren’s candid questions.

As high noon approached and the mist parted, they could see the harbor of Sherna come into view. As it drew closer, Whill saw the distant snow-capped mountains beyond. The sight made his chest swell with excitement. Soon all his questions would be answered; all the secrets, revealed.

With Tarren’s help, Whill lowered the sail as Abram steered the ship into the small harbor. There were only seven vessels docked: six fishing boats and a small royal ship. Off the coast, the mother ship could be seen rocking lazily with the waves. It was a battleship of the Eldalon navy. Whill could now see over a dozen Eldalon soldiers waiting on the dock. As Old Charlotte eased next to them, Whill threw a line to one of the soldiers, who quickly secured it to a worn post.

Abram lowered the small ramp and greeted the soldiers. “Beautiful day, no?”

The guards showed no expression. One stepped forward. “What business do you have in Sherna? Are you merchants?”

Abram’s usual patience seemed to desert him. “We are not merchants—we have no cargo but ourselves and our personal items. I am Abram, and that lad there is Tarren. The man next to him is Whill—of whom I’m sure you’ve heard, or vultures don’t eat red meat. We have had a long and tiresome journey from Fendale, and seek only a good day’s rest.”

The guards looked at one another, and the first man spoke again. “That man there—you say he is Whill? The one who beat Rhunis? But he is barely a man!” The guards all began to chuckle.

Whill went down the ramp, wearing a slight smile. Facing the guard, he looked him in the eye and let his smile fade. “It is true I beat Rhunis, and I have the diamonds to show for it—not to mention the king’s leave to travel all of Eldalon freely. And the man you see next to me, Abram, has not three days ago slain the menacing Captain Cirrosa—a feat that the great navies of Eldalon have failed to accomplish for a decade.”

The guard stared in wonder as Abram passed the other guard a scroll bearing the royal seal. Whill let his smile return. “Now would it be so much to ask for us to go on our way without more pestering? We have much to do and little time. Don’t be mistaken, I respect and admire the fact that you soldiers are far from your homes, serving your king and protecting these lands; but we are not enemies of Eldalon—we are forever its allies.”

The guard was left speechless. He simply looked Whill in the eye as if trying to sense whether he were lying. The other guard nodded that the seal was genuine. At last he said, “You say that Cirrosa is dead?”

Whill nodded. “No longer will the Black Dragon be a menace to the great seas of Eldalon.”

The guard eyed Whill, who stared at him straight-faced. Finally the guard smiled. “It seems as if you bring good news in bad times. The king will be very pleased to hear of this. As you must know, there is a large bounty on Cirrosa’s head.”

Abram spoke up. “I will tell the king personally soon enough. But I wonder, good sir, could you tell us what has happened within Isladon as of late? Has war started there?”

The guard’s face became solemn. “No one has been able to enter Isladon yet. The Arden navy has claimed the waters surrounding the coast. This may be something better discussed when you see the king. I am not at liberty to speak of such things to—excuse the label—strangers.”

Abram nodded. “I understand. Thank you.”

With that the guards returned to their posts; the three travelers unloaded their things from the ship and went in search of lodging.

Beyond the harbor, the town spread out upon a slight hill. It was a relatively small town, with a butcher, a blacksmith, a town hall, and stables. The buildings, including homes, were made mostly of logs. Beyond the main street, rolling hills spread out as far as the eye could see.

There were few people about the street, most of which