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

Rhunis gave the dwarf a queer look. “What is he doing?” he asked no one in particular.

“What we should all be doing—preparing,” said Abram, as he slowly unsheathed his blade.

Just then the scream of a dying Draggard ripped through the air. Three great flashes of light erupted from within the forest, and Zerafin and Avriel came dashing out of the woods.

“Prepare for battle!” yelled Zerafin. He and Avriel each reached down and gathered stones. With a spoken word, the stones began to glow brightly. They threw them into the woods in every direction illuminating the still night.

Only then did Whill realize that Tarren was still asleep, snoring even. He gently shook the boy. But to no avail. He shook harder. “Tarren, wake up!”

“Do not bother,” said Avriel as she threw a few more stones into the woods. “I have made it so he will sleep soundly. The boy does not need to see this.”

Whill nodded, grateful for Avriel’s thoughtfulness.

Zerafin looked back at the others. “They have surrounded us.”

“Twenty, maybe thirty of them,” added Avriel.

Zerafin surveyed the night sky. “And at least a dozen Draquon. Ready your bows, and guard the boy.” He strung an arrow of his own.

Roakore seemed not to hear any of it as he stood with eyes closed, chanting still.

So they waited: Abram, Whill, Rhunis, and Roakore, with their backs to the fire and Tarren lying next to it. Zerafin stood guard on one side, Avriel on the other, facing the illuminated woods.

They did not need to wait long. No longer seeing a reason for stealth, the Draggard erupted from the shadows. Just as quickly the elves stretched out their arms at the attackers, an unseen energy hit the Draggard. The beasts were lifted into the air and thrown back into the shadows.

Whill could only watch in awe. Roakore saw also, and knew that it was time. With one last loud chant, he raised his hands and the stone bird whirled to life. Up into the air it flew, and with a thud it connected with a flying Draquon. The beast fell to the ground ten feet from the fire, its head crushed.

Whill and Abram sprang into action, firing shots into the night sky as ominous shadows flew overhead.

“Duck down!” shouted Avriel, and all four warriors obliged. A split second later a Draquon’s tail whipped overhead, and Avriel shot quickly. Before her warning had even begun to echo through the forest, the Draquon fell with an arrow through its eye.

From his crouch Whill noticed that the Draggard which had been thrown backwards by the energy blast had regrouped. “Watch out!” he shouted, as the Draggard threw their many spears in unison.

The missiles came whirling in, and Whill lifted his sword to deflect the onslaught, but there were too many.

The elves each raised a hand, and the spears swiftly changed course and flew into the night sky. More than a half dozen Draquon fell from above, the weapons protruding from their many wounds. The Draggard who had thrown them hissed and growled as they charged in. Once again the elves sent a shockwave of energy to throw them back.

Whill felt helpless as he watched the elves unleash their devastating power. He and the others stood at the ready. Roakore’s stone bird whirled by and took another Draquon from the heavens. The elves turned their focus to the flying Draggard as well. They raised their arms, chanting in Elvish, and blasted multicolored spells into the sky. Burnt and broken bodies fell from above. One unfortunate beast landed directly in the fire, and embers and burning wood flew in all directions. Rhunis’s cloak caught fire, as did Tarren’s blanket. The knight stomped on the blanket as Whill and Abram slashed and stabbed at the thrashing Draquon still alive in the blaze.

Roakore settled his sights on the two closest winged beasts, who were dazed but not down. The stone bird pounded mercilessly back and forth as he guided it from one Draquon’s head to the other until they moved no more. The elves engaged the others with their devastating swords as the Draggard regrouped and charged at the warriors.

Whill again was left to watch in awe as the elves took down the beasts with graceful precision. The Draggard were no match for their power. They fell one after another as the siblings cut through blade and armor, bone and flesh. Roakore let his stone bird fall and breathed in gasps as he took up his axe.

“They’ll not have all the fun!” he huffed, and charged into the fray. Rhunis was right behind him. Whill and Abram, reluctant to leave Tarren, watched as the others made short work of the remaining Draggard.

With the last killing stroke came again the darkening of the night. Whill thought that, with the threat gone, the elves had extinguished the glowing stones. He soon realized that was not the case.

“Be ready!” said Avriel in a hushed tone.

Whill was chilled once again; there was a hint of fear in Avriel’s voice. The six formed a tight circle around the fire and Tarren.

“What is it?” asked Rhunis.

Zerafin closed his eyes for a moment. “A Dark Elf.”

“A powerful Dark elf,” Avriel added.

“Bah! Bring ’em on!” said Roakore, as he put his stone bird back in motion. “I see him hiding.”

“Roakore, don’t!” warned Avriel, but too late. Roakore released his weapon and it disappeared into the night. Just as quickly as it left, it returned—hitting Roakore square in the chest and sending him flying over the fire. He did not move.

“Damn!” exclaimed Zerafin. “All of you, hold!”

From the woods where Roakore had sent his stone bird, a figure emerged. He came boldly from the shadows and into the light, not twenty feet from the group. He was indeed a Dark elf. His long black hair was tucked behind tall, pointed ears that were adorned with many earrings, and he wore no armor—a fact Whill found more than a little unsettling. Instead he wore a flowing black robe. The hood was drawn back, revealing a shiny black, dragon-scale tunic underneath. His face was as fair as any elf’s, but for the swirling black tattoos.

Zerafin stepped forward and spoke in Elvish. “Go now and tell your master that you and your band of monsters have failed here tonight, or you will not see the dawn.”

The Dark elf did not move. Instead he laughed, a wicked, guttural laugh. “Ah, yes—the noble Zerafin. Much like your father you are, but a little less brave. As I remember, you left him to die and went sailing away with the other elf children. How valiant your words seem now.”

Avriel stood beside her brother. “Your insults have no power.”

The Dark elf took a step forward. “And the princess of the fallen Elves of the Sun, Avriel. It is such a treat to see you again. I shall enjoy every moment I spend with you henceforth, my love, do not doubt. But for now I have your coward brother to deal with!”

A flash of red light emanated from his hand and traveled toward the two elves. They raised their hands in return and from them leapt their own energy to meet the attack. The Dark elf laughed once again.

“I see you need the help of your sister to meet my challenge! How fitting. This only shows once again the greater power that is to be found within darkness.”

The elves almost seemed to be at a stalemate, but the siblings looked slightly more taxed in holding the Dark elf’s attack at bay, while he showed not a sign of effort.

Rhunis shot an arrow at the elf. It flew straight at his head and stopped dead, floating only inches from his flesh. With his free hand the elf reached out, snapped the arrow in half, and let it fall to the ground.

“Humans, I find, are the most interesting of minor creations. They are brave, I must say.” The elf’s face twisted with rage. “But none too smart!” He clutched the air with his fist and Rhunis was lifted off the ground, his hands frantically gripping his throat.

Zerafin gave a cry and charged ahead, sword in hand. Avriel was forced back many steps, having to hold back the Dark elf’s energy on her own, but not for long. Zerafin quickly engaged the elf, who had by then drawn his own sword. Avriel, now free of the energy attack, rushed forward to aid her brother. Rhunis fell to the ground.

Whill watched on in awe as the three exchanged blows. The siblings fought well together, but so fast was the fighting that it was hard for Whill to follow. He looked to Abram. “What do we do?”

“What can we do?”

Whill found himself useless.

Zerafin received a slash to the leg but fought on. Avriel scored a minor hit to the Dark elf’s shoulder. He jumped back out of reach and lowered his sword as the elves stood at the ready. The Dark elf looked at his bleeding shoulder and laughed as the wound healed in an instant.

“Fools! You cannot defeat me. You have felt my blade; you know it to be true. Why fight on when to do so is folly?”

It was Avriel’s turn to laugh. “You are the fool. We have had five hundred years to prepare our blades for the likes of you. Have you so quickly forgotten the ways of the Elves of the Sun?”

“You should have left while you had the chance,” said Zerafin.

The Dark elf soon understood. Zerafin and Avriel locked their free arms and came at him in a spinning, attack. The elf was forced back on his heels as he frantically parried blows that neither Whill, Abram, nor Rhunis could register. Zerafin struck followed by Avriel, and though both were blocked, the Dark elf had to bring his blade low to counter the second strike. When he did Zerafin was there with a thrust through the chest. As the blade sank, the Dark elf extended his free arm and there was a flash of light. Avriel’s blade flew from her hands as the Dark elf slashed her stomach. Zerafin stabbed again, this time through the neck.

The sight of Avriel’s blood maddened Whill. With a cry he charged forward with his father’s blade.

The Dark elf’s laugh became a gurgle as blood poured from his neck. He slashed again and severed Zerafin’s sword hand at the wrist. As he reeled back in pain, his sister thrust both hands forward into the open air. A shockwave of energy rushed forth and shattered the kneecaps of the Dark elf. He fell to his knees, but thrust forward once again, and impaled Avriel through the gut.

Whill watched in horror as the blade came out of Avriel’s back. He screamed and brought back his blade for a killing blow, but stopped dead as the Dark elf raised his free hand. Whill felt more pain than he had ever known as red light emanated from the wounded elf and hit Whill with steady pulses. The evil creature laughed as he looked Whill dead in the eye. “Everyone you love will die horribly, fool human—”

The Dark elf fell quiet as Zerafin pulled his sword from the Dark elf’s throat and hewed off its head. There was