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

idea of being a king, and hearing himself spoken of in such a way made him uncomfortable. “Thank you, good king.”

After a moment of silence, Ky’Ell rose from his throne and descended the four steps. “Let us eat, then. Ye must be starved from yer journey.”

With that, he led Abram and Whill to a passage at the right of the throne. It went down into a wide tunnel. They soon stepped into a huge dining room. This one was smaller than the Chamber of Kings but, like that room, boasted highly polished marble floors. Its walls were adorned with great banners and paintings of kings of old. Five massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and at the center of the right-hand wall, sat a giant fire place, more than twenty feet wide. In the middle of the long room, a beautiful stone dining table had been exquisitely crafted, and adorned with various gems and precious stones. Its wooden chairs were no less beautiful, intricately carved as they were, with silver trim and blue satin cushions. The stone table could seat over one hundred, and Whill found that four places had been set for breakfast at the end closest them.

Whill assumed that the fourth chair meant that Fior would be joining them, but when Roakore entered the room, the king sat and bade the three to do the same. Fior gave a small bow and exited the room as four dwarf maidens entered. Whill looked in wonder at the sight of the dwarf women. To his knowledge, no man had ever laid eyes upon a female dwarf, and rarely were they even mentioned in any of the accounts he had read concerning the dwarves. Whill suddenly felt embarrassed by his gawking. The king noticed his reaction but only grinned; the women were not bearded, as many of the stories told, nor were they in any way ugly. They were shorter than the male dwarves—a foot shorter on average—and had thick flowing hair that was so long, it had to be held up with ribbons to keep it from dragging on the floor. They wore full length dresses and aprons over their plump figures, and merry cheeks accompanied warm smiles as they set the many dishes before them. Whill thought to himself that at any moment one of them would fall over under the weight of their huge bosoms, and he fought off a chuckle.

When they finished, the maidens bowed slightly and, with wide smiles, exited the room.

“Our women are built as sturdy as the mountains themselves,” noted the king. “You should know, Whill, that you are one of the very few outsiders who has ever laid eyes upon them. We love and guard our women as fiercely as we do our treasure, for they are the givers of life, the greatest gift bestowed upon us by the gods.”

Whill regretted his earlier thoughts and wondered for a foolish moment if the king had read his mind. “I am honored once again, good king. They are indeed a treasure.”

The king eyed Whill for a moment. “Fret not, young Whill, fer years I too have pondered the mystery o’ how they stay on their feet.”

Whill flushed as he realized that his eyes had given him away. He began to stutter a response but the king interrupted. “But how I do love to investigate the many aspects o’ that mystery!” His chuckle grew into all-out laughter. Abram and Roakore joined in and, after a moment, Whill was laughing too.

When they had all finally stopped, the king took a piece of roasted duck from one of the platters and bit into it fiercely. “Eat up, friends, and tell me the tale o’ your meeting and the battle with the Draggard.”

Before them sat a feast of roasted duck, boiled goose eggs, strips of fried wild boar, ham, cakes, pastries, coffee, juices, goat’s and cow’s milk, and various fruits and bread. Whill found that he had a monstrous appetite, and knew that it was due to the healing of his leg. The food was good and the wine sweet, and the king listened intently to the story, He complimented Whill’s genius in using the diamonds as bait, and grunted approvingly at the ways the Draggard had been dispatched.

When they had finished eating, Abram took out his pipe, as was his habit after a good meal, and so did Roakore and Ky’Ell. The king gestured to Whill with his pipe. “Do ye smoke, lad?”

Hoping not to offend him, Whill answered truthfully, “No, thank you. I never acquired a taste for it myself, but I do enjoy the smell of another’s.”

“Very well.” The king puffed and blew a large smoke-ring into the air, and quickly sent another smaller one through the middle.

“Now for business.” He sat up in his chair. “What of the invitation I have received from Kell-Torrey?” He asked Abram.

“King Mathus of Eldalon has summoned all the other kings of Agora—as well as the Queen of Elladrindellia—to a secret meeting in his castle at Kell-Torey. He has not, however, invited King Addakon.” He paused and glanced at Whill. “Instead, he has requested that Whill attend, being that he is the rightful heir to the throne, and true king of Uthen-Arden.”

King Ky’Ell scowled. “The elf queen? I’ll be damned if I enter the company of an elf.”

Abram, who had foreseen that the mention of Queen Araveal might hamper the meeting, continued cautiously. “Please, Ky’Ell, hear me out.” Ky’Ell nodded and puffed on his pipe. “Addakon has invaded Isladon. There has been no word from King Fenious for weeks, and King Mathus has decided to hold this meeting under my council. He believes, as do I, that King Addakon intends to take over all of Agora, including the mountains of the dwarves.”

Ky’Ell choked on his smoke. “Bah! The snake can try, but he’ll not find it an easy task. He is flanked on both sides by Dwarf Mountains.”

Abram continued. “There is more, good king. I’ve told you I was there when Whill’s parents were killed—that it was Addakon who saw to it.”

Ky’Ell nodded impatiently. “Yes, yes, ye told me the tale.”

“What I failed to tell you was that the ambush was performed by a host of Draggard.”

The king was suddenly concerned. “Twenty years ago?”

Abram nodded. “Yes. It is my strong belief that Addakon has made allies with the beasts—to what extent, I can only guess—but if he has waited this long to act, I can only assume he has been amassing a Draggard army. Worse yet, he may be in alliance with Eadon himself.”

Ky’Ell spat on the floor at the mention of Eadon, the Dark elf who had crossed dragon with elf and created the Draggard. “Then the elves o’ Elladrindellia be in on it also, the scum! Brought the dragon half-breeds here to take our treasures, eh?”

“No!” Abram interrupted. “If you value me as a friend, and know me to be a man of truth, listen to my words! The elves of Elladrindellia have more disdain for the Draggard than even the dwarves do. They are not in league with the Dark elves. Their people were slaughtered and driven from Drindellia those hundreds of years ago by the Draggard.”

“Bah! A lie built to hide their true intent! I’d wager they aim to take over Agora themselves, an’ enslave us all with the help o’ the Draggard scum. Yer deluded, Abram. Ye believe a lie!”

Whill shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The tension in the air had become suffocating since the mention of the elves. He feared that Ky’Ell would erupt with rage. Roakore watched the exchange too, but his face showed that he was on the side of the king.

“If you will not listen to me, then listen to logic,” Abram continued, “If the elves of Elladrindellia are what you say, then why have they waited over five hundred years to strike? Wouldn’t they rather have amassed their army and crushed Agora long ago? Would they show up claiming to be refugees, only to wait hundreds of years before attacking?”

Calmer now, the king pondered for a moment. “I know that ye believe in what ye say, an’ if yer correct, Agora will have a valuable ally in the elves. But think for a moment, What if yer wrong, an’ the king has invited the enemy to the meeting? Then all is folly, an’ they will know our every move.”

“Well met, Ky’Ell. But I would wager my life that the queen and her people are good, and do indeed despise the Draggard as fiercely as yourself.”

The king leaned forward and puffed his pipe. “On what grounds would ye make such a wager?”

Abram looked at Whill. “On the grounds that, if the elves were indeed in league with Addakon, they never would have let Whill live, let alone save his life!”

The king scowled as he eyed Abram, then Whill, but did not speak. Abram went on. “When I took Whill from that bloody field, he was barely alive. I brought him to Elladrindellia and the queen herself healed our wounds. She knew who he was, yet she helped. So I ask you, good king of Dy’Kore, why would an ally of Addakon save the true king from certain death?”

Ky’Ell leaned back in his chair. Even Roakore seemed stumped. Whill watched with anticipation as the silence thickened. Abram, however, crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, his pipe hanging from his mouth. He seemed to know he had won. Finally the king spoke.

“Ye present a good argument, Abram, one which I cannot dispute. But know that I remain wary.” He puffed on his pipe, but found it spent and began packing another load. “Enough o’ this bickering. Let us assume fer now that what ye say be true. What does King Mathus propose?”

“That is the purpose of the meeting. He would like to present the facts of Addakon and the Draggard to all, and hear what each has to say. But one thing I do know: he believes that unity alone will ensure our victory in the coming war.”

Ky’Ell did not look convinced. “I understand that Uthen-Arden be the largest kingdom o’ men, an’ boasts the largest army, but they be no match for the combined armies o’ the other kingdoms, which flank them on all sides. Surely it will be an easy defeat. I doubt also that the soldiers o’ Uthen-Arden will have much heart fer battle under a ruler such as Addakon. It is well known that he is hated by most of his people.”

“You are correct in that assessment, but the presence of the Draggard implies that something much graver awaits us all.” He looked at Roakore. “I believe that when the Draggard took over your mountain twenty years ago, it was under the command of Addakon.” Roakore tensed as Abram let the statement set in. “I also believe that the purpose of the attack was to set up a base for the Draggard army. It is my theory that within the great halls of your fathers lies a Draggard queen. For these twenty long years, I suspect, the Draggard army has been steadily growing, hidden within the mountain, waiting to be unleashed.”

Roakore was speechless, but his rage was apparent. The King looked at Abram, wide-eyed. “How many, do ye guess?”

Abram sighed and leaned forward. “It is said that a queen can lay more than twenty eggs a day, and those eggs can lay dormant for years. I would guess we are looking at an army of