A Crown Of War (Book 4) (36 page)

“
Take the reunion behind me front line, will ye?” Griznor growled.

Theolus
led Whill back through the standing armies. “General Steely will want to speak with you,” he said as they walked. “What of Rhunis, is he with you?”

“
He is not, he and Abram fell in Del’Oradon,” said Whill.

Theolus
stopped short, as if he had been punched in the gut. His jovial demeanor was lost at once, and a shadow spread across his face that seemed to cause him to age before Whill’s eyes.

“
Grave news, indeed,” he said as he began to walk with Whill once more.

“
Yes, they were both good men, and good friends,” Whill replied.

They
walked in silence for a while, Whill remembering his old friends with a smile, and Theolus with a frown of sadness. The dwarves and Eldalonian men alike craned their heads as they went. Word of Whill’s arrival had already spread throughout both armies. Many stopped him to shake his hand, both men and dwarves.

“
What of Fendale?” Whill asked hopefully, but Theolus’s face told him all he needed to know.

“
I am afraid Fendale has fallen, the Light of the North shines no more.”

Whill
’s heart sank. He had only been in Fendale for a short time. However, the city held a special place in his heart. In Fendale, he had won his weight in gold sparring against Rhunis, and it was the last time his life had been relatively normal…back before prophecies, pirates, dark elves, and ancient elven blades. He thought of Freston and his three sons, hoping by some grace of the gods they had survived. He guessed the old ship builder and his sons would have escaped by sea, if nothing else.

“
ʼTis a time of dark tiding, indeed,” said Whill.

They
came to a large tent well inside the mouth of the Pass, and Theolus recited Whill’s title to the standing guard. After a moment, the dumbfounded guard slipped through the tent flap and informed his general.

“
Enter,” he told Whill, unable to meet his gaze.

Whill
entered the tent, followed by Theolus. A big man stood from behind a large wooden desk and extended his hand in greeting.

“
General Steely.”

“
Whillhelm Warcrown, King of Uthen-Arden,” said Whill, shaking his hand.

The
general stopped dead. “King, you say?”

“
Yes. I am the son of the late King Aramonis. I have slain my murderous uncle and reclaimed the throne from the imposter Eadon.”

Steely
gestured to one of the seats opposite his desk, and absently sat after Whill.

“
I have not heard a whisper of this,” he said, regarding Whill with puzzlement.

“
You wouldn’t have, I claimed the throne nigh on three days ago.”

“
I met your father once,” said Steely, searching his face for resemblance. “Good man.”

“
So they say,” said Whill. “What can you tell me of my Eldalonian kin?”

T
he general stared, stone-faced.

“
My mother’s family…the Eldalonian Royals?”

“
Pardon my rudeness,” said Steely with a raised hand. He looked to Theolus. “You know this man to be the son of Aramonis?”

“
Sir, yes, sir,” Theolus answered with a sincere nod.

“
How do you know such a thing?”

“
Sir, I was introduced to Whill by Rhunis the Dragonslayer, in Kell-Torey. They traveled with King Roakore of the Ro’Sar mountains, and two elves, a prince and princess, I believe, and one by the name of Abram, sir.”

The
general nodded and seemed to be mulling over the information. In the blink of an eye, he seemed to make his decision and all suspicion left his face.

“
Well met, Whillhelm Warcrown.”

Whill
nodded. “What can you tell me of Eldalon? Of my kin?”

“
Eldalon stands upon the brink of collapse. Kell-Torey has fallen, and we lost Fendale recently to a massive naval invasion. Gods damned dark elf ships blasted the city to rubble. Our forces are scattered throughout the kingdom. What word reaches us, comes with the refugees. As for your kin…I am sorry to say the king has fallen, gods bless him.”

“
The others?” Whill asked.

“
Many of the king’s family have been assassinated,” said Steely, and Whill immediately thought of Dirk.

“
A man came round a few weeks back, claiming that he knew of a plot to kill the royal family. T’was likely he who thwarted the attack on Lord Carlsborough. The lord and his family arrived here in one piece a few days back.”

“
What was the man’s name?” Whill asked.

The
general seemed to become uncomfortable all of a sudden; he shifted in his chair and reached for a bottle of rum. He gestured with the glass to Whill who nodded. Steely poured two glasses and took a sip of his.

“
I don’t know his name,” he said, finally.

“
What did he look like?”

Steely
shifted again. “I hear he wore leather armor of all black, and some kind of fancy cloak made of gods knows what.”

“
You
hear?
” Whill asked puzzled. “Did you not say he came to you?”

The
general squinted and pursed his lips. “I am told he did.”

Whill
eyed the bottle of liquor with a raised brow, suspecting the early-morning-drinking general might not be the best source of information.

Steely
followed Whill’s eyes to the bottle. “Nothing like that,” he assured him. “The devil must have laid some sort of spell on me. I don’t remember a thing about him.”

“
Sounds like Dirk Blackthorn. Did he have a flying mount?”

“
They say he left Carlsborough Castle on one. Got it from a pair of dark elf twins. Who, they say, he killed.”

“
They?” Whill asked.

“
The soldiers who witnessed the fight. Seems the dark elves were after Lord Carlsborough and his family. The mystery man, your Dirk Blackthorn, saved them all. They may well be the only ones left,” said the general, and tossed back another shot.

Whill
tried to hide his surprise. Why would Dirk care about the fate of the Eldalonian royal line? Whill had come here for answers, but seemed to find only more questions.

“
I would like to meet Lord Carlsborough.”

General
Steely nodded to Theolus Klemus, and the man swiftly left the tent to fetch the lord.

“
What can you tell me of the wider world?” asked Steely.

“
Much, but first, how long has the dark elf army been out there?”

The
General glanced to the side with a scowl. “Three days. They attack randomly, and have killed every soldier and citizen seeking refuge. They taunt us by dropping the bodies throughout the camp at night.”

Whill
told General Steely about the dark elf necromancers and the undead soldiers. He spoke of the recent battle in the eastern Pass, among other things.

Lord
Carlsborough came shortly and was pleased to meet him.

“
Seems you might be the heir to the Eldalonian thrown,” Whill informed him after they had become acquainted.

“
Let us hope that isn’t true,” said Carlsborough sincerely. “My family has suffered a grievous loss. Our line goes back nearly a thousand years, and farther back still if you take into account tales of lost records and such. I still can’t believe it myself. Eldalon has never seen a king as great as King Mathus, gods bless his soul.”

“
I’ll drink to that,” said Whill, and the three tossed back a drink.

“
Now, what can you tell me of the man that saved your family?”

Lord
Carlsborough told him all about his encounter with Dirk, but the tale shed no light as to why he had helped them. Carlsborough only reiterated the assassins had been sent to kill his mother’s family; the question was why. Why would Eadon want him to be the sole heir to the Eldalonian throne? Why had he allowed Whill to reclaim the throne of Uthen-Arden? Had the assassination attempts been completely successful, Whill would have been rightful king of two countries.

He
left the tent with more questions than answers and set his sights upon the Draggard army blocking the way into the Ky’Dren Pass. He boldly made his way through the dwarven and human armies, walked to the halfway point between the two forces, and drew Adromida. The blade surged brightly with power, and the ring of the blade coming out of its sheath echoed loud and long. Draggard began to charge across the snow covered ground at the command of their handlers. He saw many dark elves take to the sky, transforming into large birds and even dragons.

Whill
stopped before the charging horde and summoned the power of Adromida. He held the form of the fire spell in his mind, seeing it clearly, visualizing the release, and letting the power gather. The Draggard closed in to less than ten feet, and Whill shot his open right palm toward them, casting the devastating spell with a cry of rage.

Silence
followed in the wake of his echoing voice, and time seemed to stop. The Draggard who had been charging toward him froze in place and floated slowly off the ground. Abruptly, they fell as sound returned to the world and a concussion like crashing thunder rolled over the Draggard army. The ground exploded beneath them and rolled on like a wave folding over itself and the Draggard, and continuing on to engulf the lot of them. The shockwave was followed by spells of fire and lightning that blasted from Whill’s right hand in rapid succession, peppering the trapped Draggard and leaving nothing but smoldering bones in their wake. Behind him, the dwarves and humans charged, and Whill took to the sky after the dark elves.

Fyrfrost
carried Dirk and Raene away from the Ky’Dren Pass steadily eastward toward Felspire. With his hood drawn tight against the blustering wind and the protection of his enchanted cloak, Dirk was not chilled by the biting wind. Raene had no such protection as she sat, pressed against his back. The night had gotten steadily colder since they left the mountain range of her birth, and Dirk new they needed to put down soon. When asked, Raene insisted she was fine, but her chattering teeth told him the truth.

S
parse forests and outcroppings of trees dotted the northern parts of the Thendor Plains, but Dirk was able to find a suitable location from their high vantage point. He steered them toward a thin coppice running the length of a ridge, and put down at its edge. Raene leapt from the saddle and landed square. She crouched, looking and listening to the surroundings.

“
We are alone,” Dirk assured her. “I scouted the area before we landed.”

“
Bah,” Raene replied in a near whisper as she scanned the area. “I been right behind ye when ye did, and I ain’t sure there wasn’t nothin’ down here.”

“
Trust me, I have means to see what you cannot. We are alone. Gather what wood you can find,” said Dirk.

“
This wood be green,” she said, breaking a small tree in half and having to peel it apart at the middle. “Doubt any deadwood worth tryin’ to burn be ’round here.”

“
We aren’t starting a fire with striking stone and tinder; we have a dragon. Trust me, the greenwood will burn.”

Raene
shrugged and went to chopping the small trees with her hatchet. Like her male counterparts, she carried four of the weapons strapped to her thighs.

Dirk
walked to the ledge of the ridge. Many such rims and rolling hills dotted the plains. In the moonlight, the smaller hills looked like nothing more than snow dunes blown by the wind, stretching off for miles in the quiet night. The ridges reached higher, and stretched west to east: roots of the distant mountain range. They were still in the shadow of the mountain, having traveled only a few hours and with no haste.

From
his pocket, he withdrew the wolf figurine and summoned Chief; he dared not bring Krentz forth yet. Chief swirled out of the trinket and solidified before him. From behind, Raene gasped. Dirk turned to find Raene standing wide-eyed twenty feet away. She had dropped many of the felled trees when she stopped in her tracks, and now stood with her arms out, holding a few of the remaining branches.

“
What kind o’ devilry be this?” she asked, shocked.

“
This is Chief,” Dirk laughed, and the spirit wolf wagged his bushy tail and cocked his head at the dwarf. He playfully pounced on the ground before him and suddenly sprang at her.

Raene
backpedalled and tripped, falling on her backside and sending the small branches flying. She had left her shield and axe where they had landed, and now frantically scrambled away from the big wolf. “Call off your dog, or I’ll kill him!” she screamed, brandishing a hatchet.

“
Be nice, Chief,” Dirk laughed. “He won’t harm you.”

“
Stop right there!” Raene commanded the playful wolf as she got to her feet and cocked back her hatchet. Chief heeded her command, stopped, and sat a few feet before her, wagging his tail lazily in the snow. She slowly extended her hand to pet his head. Soon, she had put her hatchet away and was scratching behind his ears, though she still cocked her head back from getting too close to his mouth.

“
Chief,” said Dirk, and the spirit wolf came bounding over to him, panting happily. “Is Krentz all right?”

To
Dirk’s disappointment, Chief gave a small whine and licked his paw.

“
Still recovering, huh?”

Chief
gave a small bark.

Dirk
realized he had saved her from the necromancer at the last moment. Krentz had become translucent, and had begun to glow with the green light of the lich lord’s spell. He decided to give her another day to recuperate.

“
Chief, watch the perimeter until morning.”

At
once, the spirit-wolf turned to mist and disappeared among the surrounding coppice.

Raene
had gathered a big bundle of trees and thin branches. Dirk built up the firewood and stepped away as Fyrfrost shot a jet of dragonsbreath, igniting the green wood quickly. The dragon fire melted the thin snow cover around the fire pit, leaving blackened earth and scorched patches of grass. His job done, the dragon-hawk leapt up into the sky, leaving a small blizzard of displaced snow whirling around the camp.

“
Chief and Fyrfrost will guard us while we sleep. Morning will come quickly; I suggest you get some shut-eye.”

Raene
didn’t argue, though her stomach growled for food. She had gotten little sleep in the last week since the invasion of the northern mountain range. She laid her bedroll opposite Dirk’s on the scorched earth and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Dirk
fed the fire enough to last until he woke, and lay back looking up at what stars could be seen peeking between the quickly passing clouds. He worried for Krentz. She had recovered quickly from the effects of the necromancer on the road to Ky’Dren, but the latest foe had been much more powerful than the other dark elf. He hoped she had suffered no permanent damage.

He
had been impressed by Whill’s display of power during the battle for the Pass. He seemed to have learned much since the last time he had seen him. Still, with the powerful elven blade in his possession, Whill had been vulnerable to the necromancer and her otherworldly powers. This disturbed Dirk greatly, for surely there would be other such dark elves in and around Felspire. Likely, Eadon possessed such necromantic powers, and even though Whill wielded Adromida, it would be useless against the dark elf if he attacked Whill as the necromancer had. Thinking back on what he had witnessed, he realized the dark elf woman had been trying to possess Whill.

A
thought came to him, and he sat up with a jolt at the grave revelation. The answers to the riddle came rushing to him. He finally understood why Eadon had cared to make Whill the sole heir to both Uthen-Arden and Eldalon, why Eadon had created a blade that he himself could not wield, and his true intentions in trying to corrupt Whill with those months of torture…Eadon wanted to become Whill.

Dirk
believed Eadon’s plan likely would succeed, given what he recently had seen of Whill’s behavior. He thought back on the fight scene again and again, paying attention to what he had seen of Whill’s use of the elven arts. He remembered now clearly how Whill had pulled the life force from his victims as Dirk had seen Krentz do many times. Whill did not follow the sun elves’ strict codes and magical laws. He took from his victims as readily as any dark elf might. He thought back on what he knew of the two blades of power. One was the greatest power given, and, as such, could not be taken, but only given. The other was the greatest power taken, and, as such, could not be given, only taken. The nature of the power of the blades was balance, and seemingly a failsafe against the attainment of both. Whill would never voluntarily hand over the power of Adromida, and Eadon understood as much, for it would mean a defeat worse than death. Neither did he have the power to defeat Eadon. How then, Dirk wondered, would Whill destroy the dark elf?