Whill of Agora woa-1

by Michael Ploof

  Whill faintly realized that all were now watching him as he advanced into the room toward the infant. He wondered why they did not try to hold him back. Then he saw what they saw: his outstretched hand. From the palm to each fingertip, blue tendrils of light convulsed and danced. The mother had stopped sobbing and stared in wonder. The healers made way for Whill and stepped to the sides, never taking their eyes off Whill. The infant laid upon the blanket, small, weak, unmoving, a blue hue to its skin. The look on her face was that of great discomfort, not peace. She wants to come back, he thought.

  As Whill bent and put his hand upon the baby’s head, he instantly felt her presence. Her faint spirit stumbled into his as a blind man might do, lost in an unknown place. The tendrils from Whill’s hand spread across the limp infant’s naked body, becoming ever brighter. Her spirit clung strongly to Whill as he tried desperately to monitor the transfer of energy. Then suddenly he felt a great urgency, a desperate struggle to hold on to life as it slipped away. He felt the baby’s simple emotions, her need for what he gave her. Before he could break contact, a sudden jolt surged through his body, dropping him to his knees. He stiffened as her desperate spirit drained from him as much energy as it could. Whill was no longer in control, unable to stop, fighting hard to break contact, he saw now that the baby had lost her blue color, and through the energy bond he felt the baby’s heart begin to beat. It pounded faster and faster, stronger with every beat her spirit clung to the energy pulses that Whill could not stop. He mustered his strength, told her spirit kindly to let go, but not with words. The spirit responded, and as yet another strange connection was achieved, Whill heard himself gasp.

  Now he sensed great knowledge and a vast intellect within the spirit’s consciousness. A wisdom of countless years resided within; memories like waves crashed into him. He saw strange lands and strange people, oceans, forests, and streams where he had never ventured. Mountain ranges foreign to him loomed before his mind’s eye and disappeared, Then a flash, and more memories, faces, feelings, and yet another death in the form of a flash. Another and another, until the lives of this ancient spirit poured into him like an avalanche. Then suddenly it stopped. Now a landscape he recognized spread out before him. The Ky’Dren Mountains, Lake Eardon, and Drakkar Island flashed before him. Then before him stood the Castle of Del’ Oradon, and a feeling of great love. Whill was now oblivious of his physical surroundings. He had no conscious link to the world around him. There was only this spirit, and the memories. He was not afraid; rather he felt great comfort and trust. As he watched the life memories of the spirit unfold, something caught his eye. It had only been a flash, but he asked to see it again. The spirit obliged and he saw in greater detail the form he sought. It was Abram, and he was a young man of in his mid-twenties. Whill could not believe what he saw, and wordlessly he questioned the spirit. It confirmed, and let Whill feel the emotions tied to Abram’s memory. Whill felt love, trust, respect, and great happiness. Abram was a close friend.

  Another vision flashed before him, a long corridor hung with great banners. Through the spirit’s memories Whill watched as the view switched to a grand mirror. It felt as if he was looking through the person’s eyes, but he did not see himself in the mirror. Instead a stunningly beautiful woman was reflected back to him. She seemed to be in her late twenties, with long black hair and a flawless face. Whill knew then that for the first and last time in his life, he was looking upon his mother. She gazed at herself and then at her large belly in the mirror. She gave it a few loving strokes before again venturing down the hall. Whill urgently tried to make her turn, but the vision faded. Now all was black, though he was not alone. The spirit that had at one time lived his mother’s life now coddled his as if he were the infant. Without words she relayed to him that she loved him and that she was very proud, as was his father. She made him understand that the baby he had saved was a new life, and would have no memory of him. She told him not to be sad, but thankful that they had shared this rare experience.

  Whill knew it was time to go but protested. She reassured him once again, and communicated a great sense of love and pride. Then she was gone, and the world was back. He knelt at the foot of the bed, vision blurred, his eyes burning with hot tears. He could hear the infant wailing loudly, and he smiled to himself as he passed out.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Road to the Mountain

  Will was again in the state he had been after healing Tarren. His body ached, his head pounded, and he floated in and out of strange, feverish dreams. He dreamed of his parents, and the mountain, and of places and people he had never known. He awoke briefly to find an old woman wiping his brow with a cool cloth. He attempted to ask of the infant but his head swooned with pain as he fell once again into a deep sleep.

  Again the elf woman came to Whill, and with her soothing touch and warm smile she took away all pain. Her beauty surpassed that of any mortal he had ever seen, and he was sure he would be content to stare into her eyes forever. Her face radiated with great compassion, but Whill could sense an urgency born of fear. As she soothed his many pains with her own healing energy, she spoke.

  “Whill, he can sense you. You must not use your powers again until you are among us. He knows where you are. You must go now.”

  Whill awoke abruptly and sat up. Abram jumped, his eyes heavy. Whill surveyed his surroundings. He knew where he was the house of healing. The old man and woman who had tended to the baby now tended to him, and they seemed as shocked as Abram. Even Tarren stared in wide wonder as Whill attempted to get out of the bed.

  “Abram, we must go, we have to leave know!”

  Abram gave Whill a look of concern. “Whoa, whoa there friend relax, give yourself a minute. Are you alright?”

  Whill found his shirt and other clothes and hurriedly put them on. Tarren retrieved his boots. “Thank you,” he said. “Abram, the elf woman from before told me we should leave, just now, before I awoke.”

  Abram’s face turned to a hard scowl. “What else did she say?”

  Whill tied his boots quickly. “She said something like ‘he can sense you,’ though I don’t know who she was talking about.”

  Abram paced the room for a moment as if in deep thought. “You’re right, we must go, and we must go now. Tarren, go and tell Hagus we are leaving.”

  The boy ran out of the room without a word. The old man peered out the window with a scowl. “I don’t know how easily you will escape the crowd, good sir.”

  “What crowd?”

  “That crowd there.” The old man pointed.

  Whill went to the window. “They have been outside for four days now, awaiting a glimpse of the great healer; he being you of course sir.”

  Whill was not surprised this time that he had been unconscious for four days, but he was surprised by the crowd. More than fifty people were camped outside of the small home. A man noticed Whill and cried, “There he is, there he is!”

  Whill quickly ducked away from the window as the people began to cheer. The old man smiled at him. “That was a wonderful thing you did for that child, though I know not how you did it. You have a great gift, son-an elven gift, if I may. Tell me, are you part elf?”

  “Uh, no, I am not. I do not understand my…abilities, either. How is the child, anyway?”

  The old woman smiled as she poured Whill some tea. “She is doing excellently, thanks to you. You know, upon learning your name, the mother named the baby Whilliana in your honor. She was most grateful. Every day she has come to see how you are. The town has been in an uproar for the last four days. The sick have even begun coming from surrounding towns to ask to be healed by you.”

  She handed Whill the tea and he thanked her. Abram peered out the window, wearing the same scowl. “Not all of them are adoring fans, mind you,” he warned. “Just last night a band of fools arrived carrying torches, demanding to have the sorcerer handed over. The soldiers would not let them pass, of course, but they came nonetheless. Word of this will soon spre
ad throughout Agora, Whill. Our troubles have only just begun.”

  Whill could sense that Abram had much more to say on the issue but held his tongue for now. Outside the crowd was still cheering and demanding for Whill to come out. He peered through the side of the window. Twenty armed Eldalon soldiers had formed a barrier in front of the house, and he suspected that there were more guarding the rest of the building. He could hear women and men alike pleading for him to come out and work another miracle.

  “Please, my son is blind, if you could just help him,” one woman pleaded.

  “My father is sick, good sir, would you take just a moment-” said another.

  “My mother, she cannot walk, surely you can help us?” asked a young man. And there were countless other pleas for help.

  Whill looked at Abram, who gave him a look that said clearly, “No!” The pleas made Whill feel sick to his stomach. He wanted to be far from this place, as fast as possible.

  “How do we get out of here without being noticed?” he asked.

  “I have had four days to plan our escape, Whill. Do not worry. As you know, many of the herbs and roots and such needed by a healer must be kept cool.”

  Whill nodded. “An underground storage room.”

  The old man pointed to a door built into the floor near the northern wall. “It leads to a small tunnel ten feet long and opens into our cold room. It can be entered from the outside and therefore exited from the inside, through a small door built to look like a large tree stump.”

  “I have asked Hagus to bring a wagon around to the back a few minutes after Tarren returns,” Abram said. “From there we should have no problem escaping to the woods without having to deal with the mob, adoring fans or no.”

  Whill was satisfied. “Sounds like you have thought of everything. But what shall we do with Tarren?”

  Abram gestured to the old man and woman. “I have asked I am and Laurna here if they would be so kind as to watch over him until we return. They have agreed.”

  “We would be happy to,” said I am.

  “It is our honor,” Laurna added with a smile.

  “Thank you both so very much,” Whill said. “And please accept payment for this deed. I insist. If not for yourselves, then take it for your patients. I know that gold can buy medicines that are scarce in these parts. And though I cannot help these people right now as I would wish, perhaps my money can.”

  From the window, Abram spoke. “Tarren has returned. We must go.”

  Abram had readied his and Whill’s things so they could leave as soon as Whill awoke. Their weapons, packs, bags, and supplies sat in a heap at the foot of the bed. Whill and Abram prepared for travel as Tarren entered the room and quickly closed the door on the screaming crowd. The sound of the mob was unsettling; Whill tried to block out the sounds of the pleading people but found it difficult. He wished he had control of his powers; he wished he could help every one of them. But knew he could not. Tarren helped as much as possible as they loaded up with the heavy packs.

  Once ready, Whill turned to him. The boy smiled bravely, though Whill could tell he was scared. He stood smiling up at Whill with a slight shimmer in his eyes. Whill bent to one knee. “You be good for I am and Laurna, alright, lad? Help them out and stay out of trouble.”

  Tarren tried to be tough as always. “When will you be back?”

  Whill knew how Tarren felt. He saw himself in the boy now more than ever. “We will return before the tenday. I promise, Tarren, we will come back for you. You have my word.” He gave the boy a hug and turned away with watery eyes of his own, unable to say more. He joined Abram at the trap door.

  Abram regarded Tarren with a reassuring smile. “You be a good lad. We’ll be back before you know it.”

  That was the same thing Abram had always told Whill before he left on one of his adventures. To hear it now made Whill even more somber. Together with Abram, he descended the steps to the tunnel. Behind them I am closed the hatch, whispering, “Farewell, and good luck.”

  The tunnel was dark but for the candle that Abram held, and smelled of earth. It was cool and dank, with roots emerging from the dirt ceiling and walls. It was not more than ten feet long, with just enough space to walk in a crouch. Soon the two came to the cold room opening. The room was fairly small, with shelves spanning its entirety. Upon the shelves were various roots, herbs, liquid medicines, fruits, vegetables, and animal extracts. It was a well-stocked supply room. At the opposite end of the small room was a ladder leading to a hatch. Abram ascended the ladder a few feet and lifted the hatch just enough to peer outside.

  “Good, Hagus is here. Ready, Whill?”

  Whill nodded. Abram extinguished the candle and discarded it. When he lifted the hatch, Whill was blinded by the daylight. He quickly followed Abram, however, up the ladder and into the cool day. Directly in front of them was Hagus’s wagon. They scampered to the rear of it and jumped inside as Hagus urged his horses into motion.

  The wagon was not covered, but Hagus had furnished a large blanket to conceal them until they were out of town. They rode quietly as the wagon made its way to the forest trail. After about fifteen minutes Whill peered out from under the blanket and saw the surrounding treetops. The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly overhead. It looked as though it would be a good day to travel.

  After another half hour of riding the wagon stopped, and Hagus said, “You’re clear.” The two emerged from under the blanket and got out of the wagon. “I loaded all the things you asked for, Master Abram. Also a few treats made by m’ dear wife. If there is anything else I could do fer ya, let me know. I would be honored.”

  Abram grabbed a few of the supply bags and his bow. “You have done us a great service, Hagus, and we are grateful. We need not remind you to keep silent about where we went and where we are headed.”

  Hagus raised his eyebrows and shook his head vigorously. “No, no, I will not say a word, not to no one. You have my word.”

  Abram eyed Hagus for a moment, more to intimidate him than out of suspicion. “Good. And thank you once again.”

  Whill had finished loading his many bags and weapons. He took a place next to Abram and also thanked Hagus for his services. Together they watched as the wagon traveled out of sight back down the forest trail.

  Whill surveyed the surroundings. To the south and north the forest trail could be seen winding slightly through the trees. To the east and west was only forest. The trees were in bloom now, and sprouts could be seen on almost all of them. Some early-blooming flowers also stood proudly, scattered here and there along the forest floor. Abram and Whill started out eastward through the forest toward the mountains at a hurried pace.

  Whill thought of the infant and his mother. Now it all seemed like a dream. He knew Abram had much to say on the topic, but waited to be spoken to. Abram was silent, thinking deeply on something. They walked for an hour until Whill could no longer bear the silence.

  “Abram, I’m sorry for the other day.”

  Abram did not look at him. “Whill, I don’t think you understand what you have done.”

  He let out a deep breath. “I know, I shouldn’t have healed the infant, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was like-”

  “You could have died! Again! Not only that, but you have alerted an enemy to your existence and whereabouts. We will be hunted now, you can be sure of that.”

  Whill took the offensive. “Hunted by whom? Men who think I’m a sorcerer? Let them come.”

  Abram stopped and looked Whill in the eye. “The Draggard will be after us now, son, the Draggard, many of them. If he knows where we are, they will be sent.” He began to move again.

  Whill, shocked, hurried to catch up. “The Draggard! They come for us now? Why? Who is this man you speak of?”

  “He is a very powerful foe. If the elf woman warned you of him, then we are in great peril for sure. Do not ask more on the subject. We will be in the mountains soon.”

  Whill was left once again to wonder.
He feared the Draggard. Though he had only seen paintings of the fell beasts, he feared them like he feared no man. They were bred for one purpose: killing. Rumors had begun in Agora that the winged Draggard, named Draquon by the elves, had been seen near the Ebony Mountains. This thought unsettled him.

  Abram’s voice pulled him from his violent imagination. “Other than the elf woman’s visit, what else occurred during your healing?”

  Whill thought for a moment. It sounded mad, but he told Abram anyway. “I saw my mother.”

  Abram turned to Whill, dumbstruck. “Your mother?”

  For the next hour of their journey, Whill told Abram what had happened. When he was done, Abram went silent for a moment. “Then I suppose it was good that you healed the infant, or you never would have had the…encounter,” he said at last. “You are fortunate for such a thing.”

  Whill was surprised. “You believe me?”

  “Of course I do. For one, your description of your mother was perfect. For another, I believe that we move on to live other lives. It is true that your tale is a fantastic one, but fantastic things do occur. Take comfort in your mother’s words and be grateful. We shall soon see how great the price will be.”

  Whill was not comforted by Abram’s statement, though he thought it wonderful that he’d had a chance to meet his mother, if only in spirit. He felt bad for bringing more peril upon Abram. He was, however, comforted by the mountains that could now be seen in the distance. The forest had become considerably less dense, and the terrain had become steeper. From his vantage point he could see the many rolling hills ahead and the mountains beyond. The sun was high, shining brightly among thick white clouds, which for now did not block its warm rays. There was little wind, but a strong scent of pine still floated in the air. The forest floor was alive with rich greens, moss, and flowers. Ferns were in abundance, as were redclove plants.