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

the crowd was still cheering and demanding for Whill to come out. He peered through the side of the window. Twenty armed Eldalon soldiers had formed a barrier in front of the house, and he suspected that there were more guarding the rest of the building. He could hear women and men alike pleading for him to work another miracle.

“Please, my son is blind, if you could just help him,” one woman pleaded.

“My father is sick, good sir, would you take just a moment—” said another.

“My mother, she cannot walk, surely you can help us?” asked a young man.

And there were countless others.

Whill looked at Abram, who gave him a look that said clearly, “No!”  The pleas were making Whill sick to his stomach, and he wanted to be far from this place as fast as possible.

“How do we get out of here without being noticed?” he asked.

“I have had four days to plan our escape, Whill. Do not worry. As you know, many of the herbs and roots and such needed by a healer must be kept cool.”

Whill nodded. “An underground storage room.”

The old man pointed to a trapdoor near the northern wall. “There is a tunnel that leads to our cold room; it can be exited through a small hatch that looks like a tree stump.”

“I told Tarren to have Hagus bring a wagon around back,” Abram said. “From there we should have no problem escaping to the woods.”

Whill was satisfied. “Sounds like you have thought of everything. But what shall we do with Tarren?”

Abram gestured to the old man and woman. “Iam and Laurna have agreed to be so kind and watch over him until we return.”

“We would be happy to,” said Iam.

“It is our honor,” Laurna added with a smile.

“Thank you, both, so very much,” Whill said. “And please accept payment for this deed. I insist. If not for yourselves, then take it for your patients. I know that gold can buy medicines that are scarce in these parts. And though I cannot help these people right now, as I would wish, perhaps my money can.”

From the window, Abram spoke. “Tarren has returned. We must go.”

Abram had readied their things so they could leave as soon as Whill awoke; their weapons, packs, and supplies sat in a heap at the foot of the bed. As they prepared for travel, Tarren entered the room and quickly closed the door on the screaming crowd. The sound of the mob was unsettling; Whill tried to block out the sounds of the pleading people, but found it difficult. He wished he had control over his powers; he wished he could help every one of them. But knew he could not.

Once ready, he turned to Tarren. The boy smiled bravely with a slight shimmer in his eyes, and Whill could tell he was scared. Bending to one knee, he said, “You be good for Iam and Laurna, alright, lad?  Help them out and stay out of trouble.”

Tarren tried to be tough, as always. “When will you be back?”

Whill knew how Tarren felt; he saw himself in the boy now more than ever. “We will return before the tenday. I promise, Tarren, we will come back for you. You have my word.” He gave the boy a hug and turned away with watery eyes of his own, and joined Abram at the trapdoor.

Abram regarded Tarren with a reassuring smile. “You be a good lad. We’ll be back before you know it.”

It was the same thing he always told Whill before leaving on one of his adventures. To hear it now made him even more somber. Together with Abram, he descended the steps to the tunnel. Iam closed the hatch behind them, whispering, “Farewell, and good luck.”

The tunnel was dark, but for the candle that Abram held, and smelled of earth. Low and not more than ten feet long, it was cool and dank. The emerging roots left just enough space to walk in a crouch, but soon the two came to the cold room. It was fairly small, and spanning its entirety were shelves of various roots and herbs, tinctures, and animal extracts; it was a well-stocked supply room. At the opposite end of the small room was a ladder leading to the hatch. Abram ascended it a few feet and lifted the hatch just enough to peer outside.

“Good, Hagus is here. Ready, Whill?”

Whill nodded and Abram extinguished the candle. As he lifted the hatch, Whill was blinded by the daylight, but quickly followed Abram outside. Directly in front of them was Hagus’s wagon. They scampered to the rear of it and jumped inside as Hagus urged his horses into motion.

The wagon was not covered, but the innkeeper had furnished a large blanket to conceal them until they were out of town. They rode quietly as the wagon made its way to the forest trail. After about fifteen minutes Whill peered out from under the blanket and saw the surrounding treetops. The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly overhead; it looked as though it would be a good day to travel.

After another half hour of riding, the wagon stopped and Hagus said, “You’re clear.” The two emerged from under the blanket and got out of the wagon. “I loaded all the things you asked for, Master Abram. Also a few treats made by m’ dear wife. If there is anything else I could do fer ya, let me know. I would be honored.”

Abram grabbed a few of the supply bags and his bow. “You have done us a great service, Hagus, and we are grateful. We need not remind you to keep silent about where we are headed.”

Hagus raised his eyebrows and shook his head vigorously. “No, no, I will not say a word, not to no one. You have me word.”

Abram eyed Hagus for a moment, more to intimidate him than out of suspicion. “Good. And thank you once again.”

Whill finished unloading his things and stood next to Abram. He too thanked Hagus for his services, and they watched as the wagon traveled out of sight back down the forest trail. 

Whill surveyed the surroundings. To the south and north the forest trail could be seen winding slightly through the forest. The trees were in bloom now, and sprouts could be seen on almost all of them. Some early-blooming flowers also stood proudly, scattered here and there along the forest floor. At a hurried pace, they left the trail and headed eastward through the forest, toward the mountains.

Whill thought of the infant and his mother. Now it all seemed like a dream. He knew Abram had much to say on the topic, but decided to wait until he brought it up. At the moment his friend was silent, thinking deeply on something. They walked for an hour until Whill could no longer bear the silence.

“Abram, I’m sorry for the other day.”

Abram did not look at him. “Whill, I don’t think you understand what you have done.”

He let out a deep breath. “I know, I shouldn’t have healed the infant, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was like—”

“You could have died! Again! Not only that, but you have alerted the enemy to your existence and whereabouts. We will be hunted now, you can be sure of that.”

Whill took the offensive. “Hunted by whom? Men who think I’m a sorcerer? Let them come.”

Abram stopped and looked Whill in the eye. “The Draggard will be after us now, son— many of them. Surely he knows where we are, and they will be sent.” He began to move again.

Whill, shocked, hurried to catch up. “The Draggard! They come for us now? Why? And who is this man you speak of?”

“He is a very powerful foe. If the elf woman warned you of him, then we are in great peril for sure. Do not ask more on the subject. We will be in the mountains soon.”

Whill was left once again to wonder. He feared the Draggard; though he had only seen paintings of the fell beasts, he feared them like he feared no man. They were bred for one purpose: killing. Rumors had begun in Agora that winged Draggard—named Draqwon by the elves—had been seen near the Ebony Mountains. This thought greatly unsettled him.

Abram’s voice pulled him from his violent imagination. “Other than the elf woman’s visit, what else occurred during your healing?”

Whill thought for a moment. It sounded mad, but he told Abram anyway. “I saw my mother.”

Abram turned to Whill, dumbstruck. “Your mother?”

For the next hour of their journey, Whill told Abram what had happened. When he was done, Abram went silent for a moment. “Then I suppose it was good that you healed the infant, or you never would have had this...encounter,” he said at last. “You are fortunate for such a thing.”

Whill was surprised. “You believe me?”

“Of course I do. For one, your description of your mother was perfect. For another, I believe that we move on to live other lives. It is true that your tale is a fantastic one, but fantastic things do occur. Take comfort in your mother’s words and be grateful. We shall soon see how great the price will be.”

Whill was not comforted by Abram’s statement, though he was still grateful for the chance to meet his mother, if only in spirit. He felt bad for bringing more peril upon them. He was, however, comforted by the mountains that could now be seen in the distance. The forest had become considerably less dense, and the terrain steeper. From his vantage point he could see the many rolling hills ahead, and the mountains beyond. The sun was high and shone brightly among thick white clouds. There was little wind, and a strong scent of pine floated in the air. The forest floor was alive with rich greens and flowers. Ferns were in abundance, as were redclove plants.

They walked steadily for the rest of the day, talking little— which was of no concern to either; they had traveled together for many years and were comfortable in their silence. Also, Whill could sense that Abram was wary of danger.

With each step, he was closer to the mountain that held so many answers for him. Who his parents had been, what their names were, and most importantly, why Abram had withheld such information? His excitement grew, as did the mountains before him.

With the sun getting low and only a few hours of daylight left, Abram picked up the pace. They had not taken a break since they started out, and Whill knew that he did not intend to.

“At this pace, we will reach the foot of the mountains before dark,” Whill said. “Do you intend to camp?”

Abram reached for his leather water bag and took a long drink. “If we do indeed have pursuers, it would not be safe camp here in the forest. We would be better off on the mountains at night.” He wiped the dripping water from his mouth.

The terrain was very steep as they climbed one of the final hills that stood between them and the mountains. Whill’s legs and shoulders ached from the exertion. He was used to carrying many packs when hiking, but they usually did not go this long without