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

flames were lit, and soon the others joined in. The voices grew stronger as their words rose to the heavens.

Rest now, my love, till we meet again

Under the tree of the gods, I’ll see, my old friend

Rest now, my friend, your work here is through

When my song is sung, I shall be with you

Wait for me, love, and watch over me

Help me to remember what kind of person to be

Life may bring pain, like a cold winter rain

This sorrow will be mine, till we meet again

The song went on and was taken up by not only Whill and his friends, but also by the two elves as well. After it went for the customary seven verses, and ended with the throwing of many flowers into the great Pyre, Rhunis stepped forward and spoke for the dead.

“Today we say farewell to many good people who died defending those they loved. We say farewell to true heroes. In a time when that word is spoken too freely, we see firsthand its intended meaning all too clearly. The spirits that rise from the ashes this day are heroes by right and by deed. For none cowered before the nightmare that befell your village this day’s eve. None failed in their duty to kin and country; none ran to save themselves. No! They fought on—against all odds, and against the most terrible foe imaginable.”

He walked in a circle around the pyre as he spoke, looking every man, woman, and child in the eye.

“So when someone asks you of the one you lost, tell them they fought and died valiantly in the Battle of Sherna, and speak those words with your head held high. For they lived life as we all do, but they died heroically—which is as much as any man can ask. We all, every one of us, will die; that is inescapable. But we will not all be remembered—we will not all find immortality through deed and song. No, all of us will not. But what of these spirits that fly free this day? Will they be remembered?”

Rhunis circled faster as he spoke, his words becoming louder with each sentence. The shimmering eyes of the people stared back at him, their tears running down proud faces.

“Indeed yes!” Rhunis cried. “They will be cherished by those whom they saved and remembered in song by all throughout the ages. So this day, weep for your losses, weep for fear of an uncertain future, but do not weep for the spirits before you. They have achieved the greatest of all seats in the afterworld. Smile for them now, and be proud!”

The crowd broke into cheer. Tears fell and smiles gleamed, and an exhausted Rhunis took his leave. Whill, along with Abram and Roakore, followed suit, leaving the people to their mourning.

They came upon Rhunis shortly after, outside his tent. He sat upon the ground, taking large gulps from a bottle of dark liquid. Whill patted him on the shoulder. “I feel for your loss. No doubt you knew many of the fallen soldiers as friends.”

Rhunis looked up, raised his bottle to the heavens, and took yet another long swig. Wiping his mouth, he accepted condolences from Abram and Roakore as well, and then got to his feet. He offered his bottle to the other three, and they all took a hearty drink in turn.

Roakore took a second swig from the bottle and rounded on Rhunis. He slammed his fist into his chest and bowed slightly before the scarred knight. “Rhunis, Dragonslayer o’ Eldalon. It be an honor to meet ye. I be Roakore, son o’ Ro’Din o’ the Ebony Mountains.”

Rhunis, having dealt with the dwarves before—and being aware of Roakore’s title—replied in earnest. He slammed his fist to his chest and bowed slightly. “Well met, Roakore, son of Ro’Din of the Ebony Mountains. I knew that my friends here traveled with a dwarf. But I knew not that they kept such esteemed company.” He offered his hand in the customary human greeting and the two shook.

They were soon joined by Avriel and Zerafin. Abram, being acquainted with all, introduced everyone. Shortly after, they all retired to Rhunis’s tent, giving the villagers their peace, and emptying many bottles of wine.

The conversation went on for more than an hour, and various tales of adventure and folly were shared. Whill enjoyed the company of the others immensely, though he found himself staring at Avriel far too often. Roakore had relaxed around the elves, it seemed, and the talk turned eventually to the upcoming meeting in Kell-Torey.

“That is the reason I followed you from Fendale,” said Rhunis as he popped yet another cork. “King Mathus ordered me to follow the two of you when he learned you were being trailed by Captain Cirossa. Upon finding you, I was to see that you made safe passage to Kell-Torey. Whoever you are, Whill, King Mathus sees it prudent that you make that meeting.”

All in the room besides Rhunis shared knowing glances. But Rhunis was no fool.

“Well then, out with it. Who are you?”

Whill looked at Abram, who only offered a shrug. Whill hated these formalities, but knew they were necessary. He stood and faced Rhunis. “I am the son of Aramonis, rightful king of Uthen-Arden.”

Rhunis looked at Whill dumbfounded. He glanced at Abram and then the others. He seemed to ponder for a moment, and then went down on one knee before Whill. “It is an honor, and a great joy, to meet you, King Whill. Your mother was the beloved princess of Eldalon, and your father was the greatest king of his time. You have my blade, and my undying loyalty.”

Whill looked down at the kneeling knight. He felt uncomfortable and a bit silly, but he knew that Rhunis was serious. “Please stand, Rhunis. Though I appreciate the gesture, I am not yet king.”

Rhunis stood and refilled everyone’s glasses. “To Whill, rightful king of Uthen-Arden—may he take back the throne which is his, and bring peace to Arden!”

“Hear, hear!” cried Roakore.

“Hear, hear!” cried Abram. They all clanged glasses and took hearty drinks.

Abram and Roakore lit their pipes in the short silence followed. Whill looked to Avriel, who smiled approvingly. Rhunis shook his head in wonder.

“I never would have imagined that the child of Celestra had survived. This is indeed great news.” His brow furrowed. “But how did this come to be?”

“That tale would be better told by Abram,” Whill said.

Abram told Rhunis the entire story, with Avriel adding here and there when it turned to Elladrindellia. To Whill’s amazement, he learned that she had helped in his healing as an infant. What astounded Rhunis was that, not only had the Draggard been the attackers, but Addakon had seen to it.

“I have never liked Addakon, though I have met him only twice,” Rhunis said. “There was always something off about that one—nothing like your father, Whill, nothing at all. Your father was a great man: he helped his people, he was just and honest—but Addakon—something about the man always made me uneasy. I can’t quite place it. He always had an air about him of superiority and greatness, a condescending smile...oh, how I despise that smile. Nothing like your father, I say.”

Roakore spoke up for the first time in a while. “Aye, nothing at all, I too once met yer father, and later yer uncle. Ye be yer father’s son, an’ not o’ yer uncle’s make.”

Zerafin, to whom Whill had not yet spoken beyond introductions, then addressed him. “I met the both of them when they came to be trained many years ago, and I can say that we all felt the difference between them. The older and very wise of our people even urged our mother not to let Addakon be trained. She knew his heart, do not doubt, but she had made a pact with the late king of Arden those many years before. She could not break her vow, and both twins were trained in the ways of Orna Catorna.”

There came a slight tap upon the tent, and then another. Rhunis raised a hand for silence. “Enter.”

An Eldalonian soldier threw back the flap. Seeing the great company Rhunis was entertaining, he bowed low repeatedly and said sheepishly, “General Rhunis, sir, I apologize for the interruption, but there is pressing business within the town still.”

The knight got to his feet. “Of course.” He nodded to the surrounding group. “If you will excuse me, then.”

Abram stood. “I think I’ll join you. I’m sure the good people could use as much help as possible.”

Roakore wiped wine from his mouth with his long beard. “Aye. I think I’ll make meself useful, too.”

“I’ll be along shortly,” Whill said as the three departed.

Zerafin held up the wine bottle, gesturing to Whill. “No, thanks, I’ve had enough,” Whill said.

The elf smiled as he poured himself and Avriel a small amount. “What is on your mind? You wonder how it is that we came upon you, yes.”

“You read my mind.”

Zerafin chuckled. “Not quite. It is simply a logical deduction. We would not enter your mind without your permission—unless you were in grave danger, of course, as Avriel did when you so weakened yourself healing the boy.”

Whill had known deep down that it had been real. Nonetheless, hearing it spoken of so plainly was a comforting confirmation. Zerafin scratched his hairless chin and asked nonchalantly, “Did you realize that you would have died if Avriel had not intervened? You gave Tarren so much that you left nothing for yourself.”

Avriel shrugged shyly. Whill thought for a fleeting moment he saw her blush. Zerafin chuckled once again. “My sister has always been modest.” He smiled at her. They held their gaze for only a few seconds, but Whill had the feeling he was missing part of the conversation. Avriel raised an eyebrow at her brother and turned to Whill.

“To answer your question of how we came upon you—we left Elladrindellia shortly after the incident with Tarren. We were instructed to find you and attend the meeting in Kell-Torey.”

“We were able to locate you rather easily,” Zerafin explained. “Since my sister was one of the healers in your infancy, you have always shared a bond.”

Whill looked at Avriel with more wonder and admiration than ever, though his new feelings were accompanied by something else—a notion that his growing fondness was that of a silly young mortal. Avriel returned the gaze with a smile, and Zerafin went on.

“It is hard for a human to understand such things, I know, but in time you will learn to understand these bonds, and to use them. You will no doubt share such a bond with Tarren, though he will be oblivious to it. You will be able to decipher where he is, for instance, and what he is doing. Also, though neither I nor my sister have experienced it...”

He paused and looked at Avriel. She continued her brother’s thought. “You may share a similar bond with those you killed, since you took their life energy for your own,” she explained. Seeing Whill’s startled look, she