A Crown Of War (Book 4) (35 page)

Whill
sat with King Ky’Ell and a few of his generals around a large fire near the eastern mouth of the Pass. Dar’Kwar was among them. Whill had healed those dwarves he could, and had saved many from the clutches of death. The Ky’Dren dwarves had taken many casualties during the invasion, but the Draggard had been routed, the day had been won. The dwarves were in a celebratory mood after the victory. Ky’Ell did not share the jovial spirit around him. He had lost a son and many other good soldiers during the battle. Many of his cities had been destroyed, and all under his watch.

“
What can you tell me of the invasion of Eldalon?” Whill asked Ky’Ell, putting down his bowl of stew.

Ky
’Ell regarded Whill as if he had been torn from deep pondering. “Not much, lad. I been fighting my way here from Northern Ky’Dren these last few days. You be findin’ more answers at the western mouth o’ the Pass.”

“
If I might interrupt, me King, I come from the west recently,” Dar’Kwar offered.

Ky
’Ell nodded and the dwarf went on.

“
I been there, on account o’ that Dirk Blackthorn and his flight from Uthen-Arden. Eldalon be in shambles, far as the refugees be tellin’.”

“
Blackthorn?” Whill asked.

“
Aye, the man came to the Pass like a bat outta hells, said he knew o’ a plot to kill the royal family o’ Eldalon, and said he been tryin’ to stop it. I left him at the western mouth, ain’t for knowin’ where he went from there, but if he was trying to stop the slaughter, he ain’t been successful. Be true bout yer kin, sir. Last came to me ears, the King o’ Eldalon and his family been killed. I ain’t for knowin’ how many survived.”

Whill
only nodded at this. He had heard as much, but clung to the possibility that the stories were false. How had Dirk known of such a plot? Better yet, why would he care to stop the assassinations? He searched for the assassin, but saw no sign of him in the nearby dwarven camps. He began to regret his decision to let him go. Another question burned in his mind: Why would Eadon bother exterminating his line? Was he simply trying to goad Whill into fighting him once and for all? Surely, that was the reason he kidnapped Roakore, Avriel, and who he thought was Tarren.

“
Might I ask what your next move be? You plan on facin’ Eadon?” Ky’Ell asked, and took a long pull from his metal flask. He offered the liquor to Whill, who declined.

“
I came here in hopes of learning the fate of my kin. I suppose I will travel to the western mouth and see what might be learned. I will face Eadon in due time. I had hoped to rally the kingdoms of Agora against him, but it seems his ultimatum will leave little time for such a feat. The elves of Elladrindellia move toward Felspire as we speak.”

Ky
’Ell nodded grimly and lit up his pipe. “What o’ the Uthen-Arden armies? You be king o’ them now, ain’t ye?”

“
Yes, though I am not known to them. I have no power to move them to action, not with so little time. If the undead we faced earlier are any indication, I doubt many of Uthen-Arden’s soldiers are still…themselves.”

“
Aye, Laddie, be dark magic we face. Not for you, our dead woulda been raised against us to take the Pass. We be in your debt, Whill. Any way we can help rid Agora o’ this scourge once and for all, just say the word.”

Whi
ll pondered the offer. He didn’t want anyone else to die because of him, but he could use all the help he could get at Felspire.

“
I had intended to unite the races against the dark elves. I think Eadon understands this, and I believe it is one of the reasons for the recent invasions. I would be honored, Ky’Ell, if you and your dwarves stood with me during the final battle.”

“
The honor be ours,” said Ky’Ell. “The dark elves and their abominations need be dealt with, once and for all!”

“
Hear, hear!” Dar’Kwar cheered, and many dwarves joined in, ever ready to toss back a drink.

Ky
’Ell took another shot from his flask, and, this time, Whill joined him. “This Felspire you speak of. Seems it be seen from the mountain lookout posts. It be bout fifty and a hun’red miles from here. You says you got four days? Then, by the gods, we’ll muster what we can and be there with ye. Between us ’n the elves, we’ll give ʼem a right wakeup call.”

“
Hear, hear!” the cheer went up again, and the spirits flowed.

A man strode forth from the edge of the fire glow, and stopped before Whill.

“Is it true? The one named in legend is here before my eyes?”

“Well met,” said Whill extending a hand.

“General Mick Reeves of Eldalon,” said Reeves with a wide smile.

*

              Dirk listened to the conversation through the enchanted studs in his ears, and he was glad he had not been near when Dar’Kwar mentioned him. Whill would have more than a few new questions for him, questions he could not answer. He was glad to learn that Reeves had survived the battle. The general had a few cuts and bruises, and his armor was dented and dirty, but he was alive. Dirk considered waiting for Reeves to be away from Whill, but that would likely be a long time indeed. They were talking in depth about the fate of Eldalon.

Dirk
decided it was time to be on his way. He turned from the cliff of the southern mountain range and climbed the rocks up to the ledge Fyrfrost had landed upon.

“
It is time we were on our way, Fyr—”

A
noise came from somewhere above him on one of the jagged outcroppings of stone. He put up a cautious hand for Fyrfrost to stay hidden. The dragon-hawk had taken on the likeness of the surrounding stone, and even Dirk could hardly find him perched against the mountainside.

“
Who goes there?” he asked the night.

“
I be goin’ here,” Raene called back.

Dirk
sheathed his dagger as the dwarf’s silhouette peeked out over the stone. She made her way down to him deftly, scaling the stone with surprising agility.

“
Ye be on your way then, aye?” she asked as she came to stand before him.

“
What if I am?”

“
I’m thinkin’ it be time I be on me way as well. You headed to this…Felspire?” she asked.

“
What if I am?”

“
I would go with ye, be a good three days march to the strange spire. The lookouts be sayin’ they can see it from the peaks. Long walk that be, me thinks you could use the company anyway.”

Dirk
stared at the feisty dwarf warrior, confused. “You want to go with me?”

“
ʼTis where they be holdin’ Roakore, ain’t it?”

“
I thought your father ordered you to report to your mother?”

“
So? I ain’t for a life o’ cookin’ and cleanin’ and birthin’ an such. And pity on me father for not seein’ me for what I be.”

Dirk
laughed. He liked Raene, and wouldn’t mind having her along. Though, she would never ride on the back of a dragon-hawk.

“
I am afraid you would not agree with my means of travel.”

“
If’n you be meanin’ the magic dragon-bird, you be wrong. He be your mount, then he be good enough for me,” said Raene.

“
You don’t even know me,” Dirk protested.

“
I be knowin’ ye saved me hide today, and ye put me brother to rest. If nothin’, I be owin’ ye the benefit o’ the doubt,” she told him as she eyed the spot where Fyrfrost hid.

Dirk
realized she had been spying on him for a while without his knowledge, and he was more than a little impressed.

“
You would ride a dragon-hawk?” he asked skeptically.

“
I be meanin’ on bustin’ me cousin Roakore outta Felspire. Even if it means ridin’ your dragon-bird,” said Raene.

“
You don’t share your people’s beliefs about the dragons?”

“
I be believin’ everything ain’t as it appears. Me people believe women can’t be warriors, just as they believe all dragons be evil. Who’s to say they always be right?”

Dirk
considered her for a long while. “And if I say no?” he finally asked.

“
Then I be screamin’ dragon,” she threatened, and Dirk had to laugh.

“
I thought you might say that.”

Raene
peered over the ledge to the Pass below, a hint of apprehension on her face. He couldn’t be sure what this kind of defiance meant for the daughter of a dwarf king, but he guessed it wouldn’t be good. For a fleeting moment, her face showed sorrow, regret, and longing. Raene’s expression quickly hardened as she gave a single nod. She had said her goodbyes.

She
followed Dirk to Fyrfrost’s side and mounted the dragon-hawk. To her credit, Dirk sensed no fear of the mount.

“
Best hang on tight,” he told her, and Fyrfrost took four powerful strides and leapt off the side of the mountain.

*

              Whill bid the king and his soldiers farewell and was about to leave for the western mouth of the Pass, when something in the sky caught his eye. A shadow had passed in front of the illuminated clouds. With his mind sight, he made out the glowing life force of a dragon and two riders. Upon closer inspection, he realized one to be Dirk, and though he couldn’t believe it, he thought a dwarf flew with him. He pondered the idea of confronting the assassin once again; he had a few more questions for him. He decided to let it go for the time being, sensing that this was not the last he would see of the man.

Good
riddance, Dirk Blackthorn,
he thought and took to the sky.

Fueled
by the power of Adromida, Whill flew to the western mouth of the Pass before the sun had come up. He passed over legions of dwarven soldiers marching from the mountain. At what must have been the middle of the Pass, the soldiers broke into two directions, east and west. He guessed there had been, or would be, trouble near the Eldalon border.

H
e reached the western mouth of the Pass and found a smoldering city of tents and an army of humans and dwarves standing shoulder to shoulder. Beyond the mouth waited an army of Draggard, draquon, and dwargon. With his mind sight, he determined at least a dozen dark elves among them, judging by the bright glow of their stored power. For whatever reason, the dark elf army was not advancing.

Whill
landed before the front line to a chorus of surprised exclamations and shouted warnings.

“
I am Whillhelm Warcrown, King of Uthen-Arden! I come in peace!” he said, holding up his empty hands to the crowd.

“
I ain’t for knowin’ no Whillhelm Whatsit!” yelled a dwarf, pushing through the crowd to face him.

“
Whill of Agora,” Whill clarified.

“
Whill o’…” the dwarf began, and his face lit up with recognition.

“
I heard o’ the name, what you want?” he spat.

Whill
walked forward despite the spears and hatchets aimed at him. Another dwarf pushed past the first and slammed his fist to his chest with a bow.

“
Whillhelm Warcrown, be an honor. Word o’ your exploits an friendship to our cousin Roakore be legend. Orzor Brightstone, at your service.”

The
first dwarf scowled at Orzor. “I be the rankin’ dwarf round these parts, shut your gabber and mind your place!” He squared on Whill once again. “Name’s Griznor, I be General o’ the Western Door.”

“
Well met, Griznor,” said Whill with a slam to his chest that seemed to put the dwarf at ease a bit.

The
dwarves and humans alike had begun to stir; his name was whispered by a hundred voices. An Eldalonian knight broke through the ranks and stood before Whill with a shocked expression on his face.

“
Now, here is a sight for sore eyes,” he said, extending his hand

Whill
didn’t recognize the man, but he shook the hand nonetheless. Seeing his searching eyes, the knight introduced himself.

“
Theolus Klemus, I met you in Kell-Torey.”

“
Ah, yes, Rhunis’s friend. You led us to the castle. You were a city guard at the time, if I remember correctly,” said Whill, regarding the knight’s armor.

Theolus
lit up at Whill’s recognition. “Seems I have been promoted again, sign of the times, I suppose,” he replied humbly. “We have lost so many, soon enough farm boys will be knights if they can only hold a blade steady.”

“
The losses have been great, indeed,” said Whill, thinking of Abram and Rhunis.