A Crown Of War (Book 4) (39 page)

“
Dirk!” Krentz screamed, closer now. “Take my hand, please, take my hand.”

Dirk
forced his eyes open and looked down at his left arm splayed out beside him. Krentz reached for him desperately. “Take my hand my, love,” she begged.

With
the last of his strength, Dirk moved his hand slowly to hers, and she grabbed a hold of it tight.

“
Now, send me away,” she told him. “Send me away.”

Dirk
’s vision swam, and his eyes closed as his breath came in shorter, more desperate gasps. “Return…to…the spirit world…Krentz,” he said with his last words. He felt himself falling then, but falling with Krentz in his arms. His body fell away as they drifted down, down, down…

*

             
Whill saw Eadon hit Dirk with a beam of piercing light. The assassin had yelled a warning, but Whill did not understand the words. The power coursing through him crashed in his ears like a raging waterfall. Eadon backed away, and the look on his face quickened Whill’s heart: it was fear. Whill turned from the energy beam coursing through Felspire and reached out to the dark elf with a clawed hand. No spell erupted from it; instead, Whill pulled at Eadon’s power, the way that he had taken the life force of many dark elves.

Whill
felt resistance as Eadon squared on him and held his sword before him defensively. Whill poured all of his hate and all of his rage into the spell, and Eadon began to scream.
The Sword of Power Taken cannot be given, only taken.
The words played across his mind, and he summoned the power of Eadon’s blade, Nodae.

“
This cannot be!” Eadon cried in rage, and Whill was electrified by his victim’s helplessness as he drained the energy from the Sword of Power Taken.

You
are being fooled, Whill. Give me the power before it is too late, I beg of you!
said Kellallea in Whill’s mind. She was suddenly standing next to him. She laid a hand in the power beam coursing through Felspire, and the beam of light shooting up through the shaft dimmed considerably. Whill ignored her plea, and with one last surge of power, he tore Eadon’s blade from his hands, and Felspire exploded.

The
ground rumbled and shook, knocking all within the shadow of Felspire to their knees. The Draggard and dwargon lurched and shrieked, looking to the spire with fear. There was a surge of power, and, then, sudden quiet, and for a surreal moment, the armies were still. Felspire suddenly exploded with a deafening report that shattered the silence. Shards of crystal and chunks of stone were blasted out in every direction for miles.

Zerafin
covered his sister and the others with an energy shield as the spire exploded. Little of the debris landed among the armies, so great was the energy that had been released.

“
Kick his arse, Laddie!” Roakore screamed throughout it all, and Raene cheered right along with him.

With
his mind sight, Zerafin looked to what had once been the base of the spire and saw Whill floating high above the ground. In each of his hands, he held a brilliant sword of power, and Eadon was nowhere to be seen.

*

Felspire exploded with an earth-shattering force, and Whill felt the power of the two blades come together around him. Eadon disappeared as the power of the ley lines winked out and the walls of the spire exploded, leaving him standing within the eye of a storm of swirling debris. Above, the heavens split wide and a beam of purest white shone down on the battlefield. Kellallea remained standing were she had been. Whill looked up expectantly, wondering if the prophecy of the two swords were true. He felt the power of the blades coursing through him, and realized that he now possessed the power of the gods.

Pain
exploded in his head, and he dropped to his knees.
You have served your purpose, Whill of Agora,
Eadon’s voice came to him then. Whill cried in torment, and the voice echoed ever louder in his mind. He instinctively summoned the power of the blades, but he could not focus an attack on the dark elf, who had invaded his body. Eadon tore at his very soul, as their spirits grappled within the caverns of his mind.

Whill
’s body floated above the ground, and beams of white light shot from his eyes and mouth as he screamed to the heavens. Random spells erupted from the two blades as he and Eadon struggled for possession of his body. Whill felt himself growing weaker, and Eadon stronger. He was losing the battle for dominance. In his mind, he knelt before Eadon as the dark elf took over his body.

Quickly
, before it is too late,
Kellallea urged him. Eadon grinned and the suffering threatened to shatter Whill’s mind.

He
is mine, ancient one. The gods come.

“
Let go, and you shall know peace.” Tarren’s words echoed in his mind in the Watcher’s voice.

Whill
felt himself fading. He was losing his grip on the power of the blades. The great, pressing weight of Eadon’s presence crushed the life out of him. Their souls began to merge, and it was more agony than Whill had ever known. A brilliant light illuminated the dark storm of Whill’s mind as his soul was devoured. A sudden surge of energy coursed through Whill, and he felt the presence of his inner demon, the Other.

The
Other attacked Eadon’s soul with all of the pent up rage Whill had carried all his life. Images of his torture replayed in his mind, but rather than Whill strapped to the torture wheel, it was Eadon. The dark elf’s spirit lessened his grip on Whill’s, as the Other attacked with everything he had.

Whill
’s eyes shot open, and he beheld the destruction he was wreaking upon the land. Lightning and fire whirled all around him, as a tornado of jagged chunks of crystal and large pieces of earth torn from the ground below spun in a wide circle. The ground had opened up beneath him and was falling into itself, swallowing up everything around it. Brilliant stars shone above, and Whill knew that the gods bore witness to the battle.

Kellallea
stood amid the tumult, seemingly unaffected. She reached out an offered hand, and regarded Whill with a pensive brow.

Eadon
wishes to possess you!
Dirk’s words came to him then.

T
he Other was being destroyed, it would not be long before Eadon once again focused his attention upon him fully.

Whill,
let go,
said Abram in his mind.

Whill
understood then Eadon’s design, the link between their souls laid out his thoughts as if they were his own. Eadon had seen this battle unfold eons before when he went by the name Adimorda. He knew Whill would not voluntarily hand over such endless power, and that would be his doom.

Whill
felt the Other being devoured by Eadon’s soul, and he knew he had only moments. Mustering everything he had, he pointed the two elven blades at Kellallea.

“
Kellallea, I give to you all the power that I possess!” he bellowed in a voice that shook the earth.

Eadon
screamed in his mind and tore at his soul like a ravenous beast. From Adromida, Sword of Power Given, a bright blue beam of power struck the ancient elf as she raised her hands to the heavens and floated into the air. A red beam erupted from Nodae, Sword of Power Taken, and Whill felt Eadon tear his soul apart. Whill fell to the earth, dying, Eadon’s scream echoing in his shattered mind.

*

              Zerafin and Roakore flew over the battlefield upon Zorriaz The White. The Draggard had begun to flee when Felspire exploded. Those who had been near the blast had been disintegrated. The dwarves and elves pressed the charge in the wake of the blast, but they dared not get too close. Whill floated above the earth radiating with power, spells shot out in every direction as he arched back facing the heavens. Suddenly, the swirling storm around him subsided and the debris rained down upon the battlefield.

“
Kellallea, I give to you all the power that I possess!” Whill cried in a voice that echoed for miles.

Zerafin
and Roakore watched wide-eyed as the power of the two blades flew from Whill to Kellallea, and Whill fell to the ground, dead. Zorriaz steered them toward Whill. Through raining debris and streaking spells they flew, and, together, Zerafin and Roakore leapt from the saddle. They landed mere feet from Whill and were forced to avert their eyes from the brilliance of Kellallea, who shone before them like the sun come to earth. When Zerafin could stand to look once more, he noticed that every dark elf and Draggard upon the battlefield was dead.

“
My Elves of Drindellia,” she said in a booming voice as she floated above them. “Long ago, I took from the elves all knowledge of Orna Catorna. It nearly destroyed us then, and it has nearly destroyed us now. I allowed the elves the knowledge of magic once again, in the hopes that the lesson had been learned, but alas, it was not. You are not ready to wield such power. You may never be ready.”

“
Kellallea, no,” Zerafin whispered, knowing what was coming.

Again
, there was a brilliant explosion of light, and Zerafin felt the magic and stored power torn from his mind and body.

Thousands
of glowing orbs of energy flew from every elf in Agora, and were absorbed by Kellallea as she floated above them. She opened her arms wide to accept the power she stole. All knowledge of the craft, and all of the stored energy the elves possessed was taken from them.

Zerafin
dropped to his knees as his tears fell upon the scorched earth. He searched his mind for the vast knowledge he had once possessed, but he remembered nothing. He felt as if he had lost a piece of himself.

“
You shall live as mortals once again, and you shall find peace. I am sorry, my children, it is the only way. Remember what happened here for all time. One man, a human, gave up the power of a god, so the world might know peace. Those of you with such righteous hearts might once again find the magic that was lost, and have the blessing of your goddess, Kellallea.”

The
heavens above opened wide, and beyond the tear in the clouds, brilliant stars shone brightly. The stars below the clouds converged, and Kellallea rose up to meet them.

Rise
, Whill of Agora
. The words came to Whill through the infinite darkness, and he gasped for breath. He found himself lying upon the ground. Above him, brilliant stars rose up through a tear in the heavens. He rose to his feet and gazed upon the elven blades in his hands. Roakore and Zerafin ran toward him, and, standing before him a stone’s throw away, was Eadon. The dark elf stared at his empty hands in disbelief. Just as Whill and the elves remembered nothing of Orna Catorna, neither did Eadon. He was now as mortal as any human.

Zerafin
and Roakore came to stand beside him, and Eadon regarded them with fear. He looked around at the approaching elf and dwarven armies, and he saw no allies. He raised his hands up as the tear mended itself, and Kellallea ascended to her godly throne.

“
This is not how it happens!” he cried to the heavens.

Eadon
fell to his knees, and Whill stalked toward him. Suddenly realizing his doom, Eadon jumped to his feet and began to run the other way toward the advancing Elgar dwarves.

“
Not so fast, ye dark elf piece o’ shyte!” Roakore yelled, and threw a stone that sailed through the air and struck Eadon in the back of the head. Eadon went down hard, but found his feet quickly as he frantically searched for a weapon. He took up an abandoned Draggard spear and with fury in his eyes charged Whill.

Whill
’s heart pounded in his chest as he rushed to meet Eadon’s charge. He had fought as a mortal all his life, and, unlike Eadon, he was not afraid to die.

Eadon
stabbed forward with his spear, and Whill knocked it wide with Nodae. Eadon twirled away from Adromida as Whill slashed. The spear darted for his head, and Whill knocked it aside once more. Eadon had no magic left, but, in his long lifetime, he had mastered more than just Orna Catorna. Whill struck with the two swords, keeping Eadon backing defensively. The fire in the dark elf’s eyes had been replaced by fear. As he parried, Eadon looked for a way out, but none was to be found. Whill struck with all his might and Eadon blocked with the tip of the spear, just as Whill had hoped. With the other sword, he chopped the wooden shaft in half. Eadon took up the spear's shaft like a staff and began a twirling dance that pushed Whill back, blocking the flurry of strikes.

Eadon
turned and dove into a roll, coming up with a discarded sword. The dwarf and elf armies watched on as Whill and Eadon battled near the edge of the deep hole left by the destruction of Felspire.

Whill
charged Eadon once again with a flurry of slashing blades. The dark elf ducked the first and parried the second and quickly spun away.

“
There is nowhere to run, Eadon, you are defeated,” said Whill, stalking him.

Eadon
began to chuckle. “You have not defeated me, boy! You can never defeat me! I am the most powerful dark elf that ever lived!”

He
charged Whill and lunged forward with a powerful thrust. Whill parried the blade wide with one sword and stabbed Eadon in the gut. He stumbled back as his shocked gaze regarded his bleeding stomach. Whill retracted his blade and slapped the sword from Eadon’s weakened grip. He clutched his stomach and looked at the blood in his hands, confused as he fell to his knees.

Whill
tossed the blade Nodae to the side and brought Adromida to bear on Eadon’s neck.

“
This is not how it happens,” Eadon pleaded, blood dribbling from his lips. “I ascended to the heavens, I became a god.”

Whill
cocked back Adromida, and, with a swift strike, lopped off Eadon’s head.

Whill
stared into Eadon’s shocked, dying eyes as his head rolled and settled upon the scorched earth.

“
You forgot about choice,” said Whill. The dark elf could only stare up at him, and a look of utter shock became his death mask.