A Crown Of War (Book 4) (27 page)

Helzendar
lowered his head in shame. “What danger be me father in? King Zerafin.”

Whill
turned to his friend as well. In his excitement at the news of the Watcher’s deception, he had forgotten the warning.

“
Eadon opened a rift above the city and laid waste to many buildings. He also took Avriel,” said Zerafin. “He meant to take Tarren as well. Stands to reason that Eadon would try to capture Roakore as well. Surely, he knows of your friendship. This is a game to him, and he is collecting his pieces. He will use them as hostages to convince you to give him the power of Adromida,” he said to Whill.

Whill
pondered this, and his anger grew. Not because of the lengths Eadon would go, but because, once again, his friends were in danger due to him, and that, even now, with the incredible power of Adromida, he was unable to help them.

“
I must discover the fate of Roakore,” Whill told them all.

“
I would go with you,” said Lunara, coming to him.

Whill
saw clearly the love in her eyes, but thought of nothing but Avriel and Roakore. He put a hand to her soft cheek and offered her a thankful smile.

“
I need you to watch over Tarren and Helzendar,” he said.

“
If you be ridin’ the path to me mountain, I be going with ye. We be at war, me place be in Ro’Sar,” Helzendar insisted.

“
You will remain, and that is the last of it,” Whill retorted.

“
Take care of them both,” Whill said to Lunara. He moved to the door and turned to the elves. “I go to learn of the fate of Roakore. I shall not return. If you go with your king to Felspire, I will see you on the battlefield.”

Whill
left them and made his way out of the castle with Alrick and Captain Walker in tow.

“
Whill!” Zerafin yelled from the stairs. Whill waited for him at the door to the Great Room.

“
Alrick, see to it the repairs to the city continue, we’ve still a long winter ahead of us, no matter the outcome of the days ahead,” said Whill with a firm hand upon the older man’s shoulder.

“
Yes, sire,” said Alrick with a bow. His proud eyes shimmered and lingered on his king. “Thank you.”

“
Captain Walker, close off the city, but do not turn away any refugees. Prepare the city for attack. Be ready for anything.”

“
Yes, sire,” Captain Walker bowed.

The
two took their leave as Zerafin approached. Together, he and Whill walked out to the courtyard.

“
Do not attempt anything before we arrive at Felspire,” said Zerafin.

“
I shall wait for you, and, together, we will face the dark lord,” Whill told his friend.

“
Together,” Zerafin repeated, his eyes showing a hint of skepticism. He extended his hand in the common human greeting. Whill took it and was pulled into a one-armed hug.

“
Go with the blessing of the Elves, Whillhelm Warcrown.”

Without
another word, Whill summoned the power within Adromida and shot up into the sky heading north.

Whill
flew in the direction of the Ro’Sar Mountains so fast a clap of thunder sounded. His egg-shaped energy shield formed at the tip of his sword and set the air aflame. The energy of Adromida coursed through him as he flew through the sky like an arrow.

He
soon overtook the marching dwarves, and his heart leapt. He slowed and quickly descended to land before them. The dwarf Philo approached cautiously, but on seeing Whill, he relaxed his grip on his weapon.

“
Aye, Whill,” he said in greeting.

“
Where is Roakore?” Whill asked, scouring the dwarves as they approached.

“
He and Holdagozz left us yesterday. His crazy silverhawk returned, and me king wasted no time in flying to Ro’Sar.”

Whill
gave a disappointed sigh and looked again to the north. “Have you seen anything strange in the north?” he asked Philo.

“
Ain’t seen nothing strange,” said Philo, turning to gauge the response of the dwarves. When no one spoke up, he looked to Whill. “What this be about?”

“
Eadon attacked Del’Oradon and took Princess Avriel. He also appeared through a rift out to sea and attempted to kidnap Tarren,” Whill told him and turned to leave.

“
Where ye headed?”

“
Ro’Sar, I believe Eadon went after Roakore as well.”

“
Then take us with you, we be needinʼ to be in Ro’Sar yesterday!” Philo insisted.

“
I cannot, but I can lend you the strength to spur you on without rest.”

“
Well, then let’s have it,” said the gruff dwarf.

Whill
extended his right hand and his left settled on Adromida’s hilt. Philo cringed in anticipation of the energy offering. He had not approved of the offering outside of the city the day before, but the energy had turned out to be valuable. The dwarves had run all through the night and day without the need for rest, but they had not been impervious to the blisters that came with such haste.

Tendrils
of blue-yellow energy shot forth from Whill’s extended hand and surrounded the gathered dwarves. He healed their sore feet and replenished what energy they had used. Philo hooted and hollered when it was done, barely able to contain the vigor within him.

“
I must be off, good luck to you all,” Whill told them, and shot into the sky once more.

“
And to you, Whill o’ Agora!” Philo yelled after him.

Within the hour, he arrived at the Ro’Sar mountain range. He flew to the peak Roakore had said Silverwind’s high perch was located. He found the arched entrance to the cave and flew into the opening, landing within the chamber. Silverwind cooed from the center of the room, but Whill’s hope was short-lived when he noticed the bandages set against the bird’s bloody, silver feathers.

“
Who you be?” a dwarven woman insisted, holding a long dagger out before her.

“
My name is Whill, I am a friend of Roakore,” said Whill, holding his empty hands out to the sides.

The
dwarf woman lowered her dagger and eyed him over suspiciously. “You be Whill o’ Agora?”

“
I be,” Whill assured her.

“
I be Roakore’s assistant, Nah’Zed.”

“
Well met, Nah’Zed. I have heard a lot about you.”

“
And I, you,” she said, unimpressed. “You be the one Roakore thinkin’ he need be leavin’ his mountain for.”

“
Is he here?” Whill asked.

“
No. I was hopin’ you brought word with you. Silverwind showed up this morning all bloody and beat up. I ain’t for knowin’ how she made it in her condition,” said Nah’Zed.

“
What of the invasion? Was a rift found within the mountain?”

“
Aye. Hell-born devils invaded not a week ago, been all we could do to hold ʼem back. Had a few dark elves with ʼem they did, two o’ Roakore’s sons died takin’ ʼem out, but they got the devils, they did. Told Roakore not to go; his place be here with his people. When he finds out about his kin…he ain’t gonna be forgivin’ his self soon.”

“
I am sorry for clan Ro’Sar’s losses,” said Whill. He agreed with her as well. Roakore already felt bad about being away during such an important time. When he learned of his sons, he would be crushed.

“
You said you had held back the Draggard. Have they been defeated?” Whill asked.

“
Nay, they be trapped in Whar’Rok cavern. We sealed off every way into and outta there. The sittin’ king be formulatin’ plans as how to kill ʼem all. Drown ʼem out I say. Others say gas ʼem, others beg to be let in to kill ʼem. Some o’ them men ’r crazy. Others say let ʼem starve and eat each other. Any o’ themʼs fine by me. Can still hear the scratchin’ and clawin’ at the stone, ye can.”

“
How many lives were lost in the initial invasion?” Whill asked.

Nah
’Zed looked away to the side in thought for a moment. “Two hun’red seventy-two, and thrice more injured. A few die every day from their wounds. The ones who make it a week will make it a year, they say.”

“
Do you think they will accept my help?” asked Whill.

“
I ain’t for seein’ why not. They be knowin’ ye be a good friend o’ Roakore’s. I can lead ye down. First though, ye mind takin’ care o’ Silverwind? The king be right fond o’ the bird.”

“
Of course,” said Whill, and began inspecting Silverwind’s injuries with his mind sight. Seeing the extent of her internal injuries, he was also surprised the bird had made it home.

Whill
finished Silverwind’s healing, and Nah’Zed led Whill down the many stairs, tunnels, and hallways leading to the injured dwarves. Few protested, and those who did were soon convinced to accept the healing. Roakore’s son, Ror’Den, who had been left in charge of Ro’Sar in his father’s absence, came to the cavern in which the healing was being performed.

“
Aye, Whill o’ Agora, I done heard a lot ’bout ye from me pa. Welcome to Ro’Sar, once again,” said Ror’Den, slamming his fist to his chest. Whill returned the gesture in kind.

“
Thank you. I hope you do not mind my healing of your dwarves. Nah’Zed told me about the injured, and I offered,” said Whill.

“
Bah, we be takin’ all the help we can be gettin’. If me father be callin’ ye dwarf friend, then dwarf friend ye be.”

“
About your father,” Whill began, and Nah’Zed perked up instantly. She lingered off to the right, acting busy with the recently healed dwarves, but Whill knew where her attentions lie. “I believe Roakore has been taken by the dark elf Eadon.”

Ror
’Den’s brow furled in anger, and his cheeks reddened as he looked around at the crowded chamber. “Come, we will find a place with fewer ears.”

He
led Whill through a tunnel that opened into a large natural cavern of stalactites and stalagmites, shimmering mineral rich walls, and waterfalls large and small feeding a massive underground lake. The crashing of the water would hide their voices from any curious ears.

“
Eadon, ye say?” said Ror’Den, looking out over the lake. Torches illuminated the wide expanse in a ring about the still waters.

“
Yes, he has kidnapped the Elven Princess Avriel as well, and meant to take Tarren, but was thwarted by a clever old elf.”

“
Hah! Well then, that be a bit o’ good news then, ain’t it? I grew to know Tarren well while he was livin’ here…good to hear he got away from the scoundrel,” said Ror’Den, stroking his long beard.

Ror
’Den was the same age as Whill, though one wouldn’t guess by his appearance. He was tall, taller than Roakore and most other dwarves. At only 20, he had a beard that reached the floor, braided in fat knots and set with silver rings every few inches. Ror’Den had wisdom beyond his age in his eyes. In those deep, dark pools, Whill sensed a high intellect, and the stubbornness of Roakore; also pain and worry, though no dwarf would admit as much. Whill did not have to read Ror’Den’s mind to know he feared for his father’s fate. Should Roakore not return, Ror’Den would be king of all of Ro’Sar. Whill knew the dwarf would rather see his father’s return than accept his throne at such an early age.

“
What ye thinkin he be wantin’ with me Pa?” Ror’Den asked.

“
Eadon is baiting me to Felspire,” said Whill.

“
Seems he wants you there and right badly.”

“
It would seem,” Whill replied.

“
Why there?” Ror’Den asked, his eyes still locked on the faraway shore of the cavern’s lake.

“
Sorry?” Whill asked.

“
Why Felspire? Seems a right stupid move to follow a wolf into his den. He be baitin’ ye, but why that place?”

W
hill thought about the question, but the answer eluded him. Eadon had tapped into the convergence of energy within Agora’s ley lines, and was more powerful than ever−likely more powerful than Whill and Adromida. Eadon would use Roakore and Avriel against him, and would likely kill them if Whill did not hand over the power of Adromida. But Whill would not give him what he wanted, no matter the cost. Avriel and Roakore would not want Whill to hand over such power on their behalf, and therefore, he would not.

“
There are rivers of energy below the earth, ley lines they are called. Seems Eadon has bonded to those rivers of energy, and, with them, he created Felspire,” Whill explained.

“
He be luring you to where he be most powerful. The cowardly piece o’ Draggard shyte,” Ror’Den spat. “And he be usin’ me pa as bait.”

“
If I know anything about Roakore, Eadon will wish he hadn’t,” said Whill.

Ror
’Den gave a hearty laugh that echoed across the lake and was lost in the crashing of the waterfalls. Whill recognized genuine mirth in the laughter, but also a hint of nervous apprehension. One could say that at twenty years old−which was quite young for a dwarf who could live to be 400−Ror’Den was quite over his head. But, then, so too was Whill, who only a year ago had no more problems than those brought on by the weather. However, like Whill, Ror’Den would do his duty.

“
You be goin’ after him eh?” Ror’Den surmised.

“
I be,” said Whill.

A
long silence followed, one of tumultuous pondering on the part of the young dwarf prince. Whill did not read his mind; he didn’t have to, Ror’Den was projecting. He wanted to go with Whill; wanted more than anything to be part of the final battle. His sense of duty was too great, however. A part of him was angry with his father for ever leaving his post to help in human and elf affairs, but another part of him felt ashamed for such thoughts.

“
When you see me pa, tell him Ror’Den crushed the Draggard invasion, and that he be keepin’ the throne warm for him. Ye bring him back now, ye hear?”

“
I will tell him,” Whill promised.

Nah
’Zed appeared then behind them, and the two turned to regard Roakore’s teary-eyed assistant.

“
You bring him back to where he belongs,” she demanded, “say it, on your word, you be bringin’ him back.”

Nah
’Zed walked determinedly toward Whill, her big red cheeks streaming with tears, two shaking fists gripping her thick braids, as if holding herself down from exploding with anger.

“
You are a loyal subject and a good friend Nah’Zed,” said Whill, with a hand to her shoulder.

“
Promise!” she insisted through stifled sobs.

“
I will try,” said Whill; it was the only promise he could make.

By the time Whill returned to the surface, it was morning, and the sun rose behind a gray blanket of storm clouds setting the heavenly ceiling aglow. He had five days in which to respond to Eadon.

He
had offered his help in exterminating the trapped Draggard, but Ror’Den declined, saying that Whill had already helped in the reclamation, and if the dwarves needed help a second time to hold their mountain, then they didn’t deserve the mountain. Whill respected the wish.

Whill
left Ro’Sar and flew north toward the Ky’Dren Mountain Pass. If his Eldalonian kin had been slaughtered, and he was now the rightful heir to the Eldalonian throne, he would be needed there as well. Eldalon and Ky’Dren had been allies for centuries. They would be working together to protect the pass.