Eyes widened, but Harrington still made no sound.
“Now, I can brand you with the crest of Lord Gelding, but as you know, his crest is applied to the forehead of his vassals, and it is quite large, quite unsightly. The Blackthorn crest, however, is much smaller, less painful, and goes on the top of the right hand. Which will it be, my lord, Gelding or Blackthorn?”
“Ackhone,” said Harrington through the hilt.
“Sorry, did you say Blackthorn?”
An eager nod.
“I must inform you, that this brand is a sign of allegiance, fully and completely, and for all time. If you choose Blackthorn as your lord, you promise to uphold his will. You will vote for him in the election, and encourage your vassals to do the same. Do you understand?”
Harrington nodded.
“Excellent,” said Dirk and turned to Chief. “If he moves or makes a sound, rip out his throat.”
Chief stalked forward until his snout was only inches from Harrington’s face.
Dirk lit a torch with the candle burning on the nightstand beside the bed and held his brand over it. After a few silent minutes, in which the lord and lady lay terrified beneath Chief’s gaze, Dirk withdrew the brand, which glowed bright red.
“You will want to bite down on the leather hilt, and please, try to take it like a man,” Dirk told the lord.
Dirk pressed the glowing brand against the skin of Harrington’s right hand. Eyes rolled, and the lord’s body tensed. The brand sizzled against the flesh, and Dirk held firm. After a few seconds, he withdrew and took the dagger from the lord’s mouth.
“Welcome to the winning side,” said Dirk before stabbing him in the neck with a dart.
Krentz pierced the lady’s skin as well, and soon the two were snoring soundly.
They made their way back to the edge of the forest and summoned Fyrfrost. There were many more lords to visit, and the night was young.
Chapter 25
The Migration Begins
Zalenlia stood on the shores of Drakkar Island and looked up at the noonday sun. Whill watched her, and then looked out over the land. The dragons had begun bringing up the thousands of eggs from the warm depths of the volcano and were stacking them in piles on the lava stone. Roakore, Helzendar, and Arrianna had left shortly after they returned from defeating Longclaw, who they said now lay at the bottom of the ocean. Roakore’s wife had not been able to bear the sight of the dragons any longer. Gretzen and Azzeal remained, however, and stood with Whill on the beach.
“You can stay, you know,” Zalenlia said to Zorriaz. “You are welcome to come with us to the homeland.”
The white dragon bowed her head as a blushing lass might. “I’ve never…”
“I know. But you are a dragon, no matter if Eadon had a hand in your coming into the world, you are still a dragon.”
Zorriaz looked to Whill, and he knew that the same love that Avriel had for him remained within Zorriaz as well.
“If it is what you wish, Avriel will understand,” said Whill.
“I…you are my family. They are my kin,” said Zorriaz. Her large watery orbs held Whill in their gaze, the blue rings around the eyes sparkling. She turned to Zalenlia and gave a dep bow. “Thank you for your kind offer, but I must think it through.”
Zalenlia nodded. “We will be leaving in a few days. Should you decide to follow, meet us just off the southern coast. We will be following it to Elladrindellia and beyond.”
“I will, thank you.”
“Whillhelm Warcrown,” said Zalenlia, bowing slightly. “Thank you again for all that you have done. I believe that we are now even.”
“I believe that we are,” he said with a smile.
She glanced at Gretzen and Azzeal. “Do they know of your plans?”
Whill nodded.
“Then I can speak plainly. Before you face Eldarian, seek me out. You needn’t face him alone.”
“You don’t have to do th—”
“Nonsense. Find me in the Mountain of Migration. Are you familiar with the legend?”
Whill recalled the Book of Ky’Dren, and a dread spread through him—if Roakore knew…
“I have heard of only one such mountain. It was stated in an ancient dwarven tome that it was once a great mountain kingdom…until a migration of dragons destroyed them all.”
“Yes, that is regrettable. That mountain was fought over every migration. But I assure you, we were there first.”
“But you owe me nothing. Why do you wish to go with me?”
“The fate of the mantle of darkness will affect us all. I do only that which I believe must be done.”
“Very well. I will seek you out. Thank you.”
As they flew away from the island, Zorriaz glanced back at Whill, her eyes knowing. “You know that Avriel is intent on going with you, as are many of your friends. As am I.”
“Then I will forbid it,” said Whill.
Zorriaz laughed deep in her chest, vibrating Whill’s saddle. “A man is not the ruler of his friends. He cannot forbid them from doing anything. That is the nature of friendship, understanding without judgement.”
“Please, Zorriaz. I will tell the rest what I am telling you. When I face Eldarian and attain his power, none of you will want to be within a hundred miles of the place.”
“Are you afraid?”
The question gave Whill pause, and he choked up with sudden emotion. “I am afraid that I won’t be able to see my children grow up. That they, like me, will grow up not knowing their father. They will be cursed by my legacy. This is what I fear.”
“Can you defeat him?”
“I must. And I must then take up the mantle and replace him in his eternal prison. It is the only way.”
Zorriaz sighed, and they flew in silence.
Chapter 26
The People’s Choice
They returned to Del’Oradon by nightfall and found the city streets packed. People had gathered all around the city square to hear the results of the election. A podium had been erected, one upon which Whill himself would tell the people the results of the election and officially introduce the first governor of Uthen-Arden.
Zorriaz landed on her perch high in one of the castle towers, where Avriel waited to meet them. When Whill dismounted, Avriel rushed to his side and gave him a hug before looking him over.
“Roakore told me all about it,” she said.
“It went better than I could have hoped, considering that we were attacked by hundreds of dragons,” said Whill with a laugh.
“I’m glad that you are home safe. Come, let’s get you into more regal cloths. You’ve a governor to announce shortly.”
She chose for him a crisp white leather outfit with a stiff collar and a long cloak of white fur. Whill put his crown on for the last time and looked at himself in the mirror, wondering if he was doing the right thing. In a way, choosing to have a governor elected to take his place said that Whill did not expect to return from Drindellia.
“Do you think I have made the right decision, abolishing the kingship?”
“You wonder if your father would approve?”
Whill nodded.
“You are doing what you think is best for the people,” said Avriel. “I believe that he would approve of that at least.”
“But am I doing what is best for the people, or what is best for me?”
“You are doing what is best for us all, as you always have. And when you go east to Drindellia, we will be behind you, and so will the gods.”
You believe that the gods will intervene in my favor? said Whill to her mind, in an attempt to hide their plans from Kellallea.
I have to believe it, Whill.
I know that you have plans to come with me, as do others, but I must do this al—
There will be time to talk about this later.
Avriel…
“Come,” she said with a smile. “Your subjects await.”
Whill met with Larson Donarron before heading to the cit
y square. The Magister of Secrets handed him the envelope with the election results.
“Have you read it?” Whill asked.
“Of course.”
“And?”
“The people have spoken. I believe that you will be pleased.”
Whill thought to press the man for a straight answer, but decided to let it go. He would know soon enough.
He and Avriel were led to the city square by carriage. People were packed into every street, waiting to hear the results of the election. It took nearly half an hour for the carriage to make its way to the city square, where the high podium awaited Whill’s announcement. Dirk was there, along with Lord Gelding, who looked as though he had already accepted defeat. Dirk nodded as Whill took the stairs up to the podium, and Whill returned it stiffly.
The crowd chanted Whill’s name and cheered when they saw him, and he held up the envelope, silencing them all.
“Good people of Uthen-Arden! Today we make history!”
The crowd cheered, smiling faces peering up at him.
“For the first time in history, you will have a leader that you have voted for. And a government for the people, selected by the people. It was with much consideration and forbearance that I came to the decision to dismantle the kingship, for it has been the way of the land for thousands of years. But alas, a new age has come to Agora. One of prosperity and peace. And I wish for each and every citizen of this once great kingdom to become truly free, now and forevermore. The rise of power of my late uncle Addakon has convinced me that a kingship cannot ensure such freedom, for those who are evil of heart will always be born into high positions. So I have decided to leave the choice of your ruler to you, the people. I trust that you have now chosen, and will continue to choose, wisely.”
Whill opened the envelope and was not surprised by what he saw. He glanced over at Dirk and Gelding. The lord held his chin high, while Dirk simply smirked, looking quite pleased with himself.
The crowd waited patiently, holding their collective breath.
“The votes are in!” said Whill. “And it was a close race indeed. Lord Gelding has made an impressive showing, with nearly 30,000 votes.”
Those who had voted for Gelding cheered, while others who had voted for Dirk booed.
“General Blackthorn, however, is the people’s choice.”
Shocked exclamations washed through the crowd, and Dirk’s followers cheered jubilantly. “With nearly 31,000 votes, I give to you, the first governor to serve the free nation of Uthen-Arden for a term of four years, Dirk Blackthorn!”
Dirk strode past Gelding and shook Whill’s hand. “Thank you, my king,” he said before turning to face the crowd. “Good people of the free nation of Uthen-Arden, thank you, thank you. I am humbled by your decision, and resolute in my promise to fulfill my duties to the people of this great nation. In his great wisdom, Whillhelm Warcrown has decided to give to you the greatest of gifts, true freedom, and a voice in your governance. All hail the greatest, and last, king of Uthen-Arden. Whillhelm Warcrown!”
Dirk grabbed Whill’s hand and thrust it to the heavens, to the delight of the crowd. Whill glanced sidelong at the man, wondering if he had made a terrible mistake.
Dirk walked through the dining hall, shaking hands and laughing at bad jokes. Whill had set up the dinner in his honor, and many of the heads of the great houses had come to show their fealty to the new governor. Even Gelding had shown up, though he was ignored by most, who wanted nothing to do with the man anymore. Not since the most powerful families had suddenly sided with Dirk, even going so far as to brand their right hands.
Seeing Lord Harrington and his wife, Dirk smiled and introduced himself. “Lord Harrington, I presume.”
The man blanched and shook Dirk’s hand with his sweaty one. “Governor,” he said with a nod.
Dirk turned the hand over, grinning at the still healing brand upon it. “I am humbled and delighted to see that you and so many of the great houses have branded yourselves to show your support for me and the new government. It is leaders like you who will help to solidify our new nation.”
“We know which way the wind blows,” said Harrington with a half-smile.
“Ah,” said Dirk, noticing King Carlsborough and his daughter. “Please, excuse me.”
He made his way over to the king and greeted the man with a bow. “King Carlsborough, and the beautiful Mary Ellen,” said Dirk, taking her hand in his and kissing it.
Mary Ellen blushed, and the king smiled on them both, looking quite proud. “I was pleased to hear the announcement. I look forward to the continued union of our two countries.”
“As do I, my good man. As do I. May I steal your daughter for but a moment? I believe that we have an announcement to make.”
Carlsborough nodded happily, and Dirk whisked Mary Ellen to the closest table. He helped her to stand on top of it with him before grabbing a spoon and tapping a glass to get everyone’s attention.
“My good people, quiet please, quiet if you will. I have an announcement to make!”
Everyone turned to regard him and fell silent.
“Thank you,” said Dirk, smiling on the crowd and meeting the eyes of those around him, one after another, as he spoke. “I have recently met with King Carlsborough of Eldalon, and I have asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage!”
The crowd glanced at each other, murmuring. Mary-Ellen blushed further still, and Dirk smiled on her as might an adoring suitor.
“It is my great pleasure to announce to you all that King Carlsborough agreed, and Mary-Ellen has as well. We will be wed within the week!”
The crowd erupted in cheers, and many glasses were emptied to various toasts. Dirk tossed back a glass himself and smiled upon the adoring crowd.
Whill watched from the other side of the room as Dirk did what he did best. He still did not fully trust the man, but what was done was done, and there was no taking it back now. He resigned himself to his chamber, where he was surprised to find not only Avriel waiting for him, but Roakore, Gretzen, Azzeal, and Lunara as well.
“What is this?”
“This be an intervention o’ sorts,” said Roakore, who stood with his back to the small bar with a mug in hand. “We be knowin’ o’ your plans to take on Eldarian in Drindellia, and we’re here to tell ye that we be goin’ as well.”
Whill looked to Avriel.
“This is not my doing,” she ensured him.
Whill gave a sigh and joined the others by the fire. He slumped down in an armchair and looked at them all, laughing to himself. “I am flattered, but really, I must do this on my own.”
“Bullshite,” said Roakore, moving to sit among them. “Zalenlia already pledged her support, and we be as well. This ain’t about ye and yer pride, this be ‘bout the fate o’ the world. If ye fail in Drindellia, then it be all our heads on the pike. I for one ain’t takin’ no for an answer.”
“Nor am I,” said Gretzen stubbornly.
Whill shook his head. “I suppose that even if I say no, you will follow me across the eastern ocean.”
Roakore nodded. “You be damned straight!”
“Very well,” said Whill with a sigh. “When the time comes, I will be honored to have you all with me.”
“I am going as well,” said Avriel.
Whill offered her a small scowl. Let us speak of this in private.
When everyone had left, she squared on him. “I’m going.”
“Avriel. I am sorry, but I forbid it.”
“You forbid it?” she said with a raised brow of indignation. “I am your wife, not your subject.”
“You are also the mother of my children. If something goes wrong, I do not want them growing up without either of their parents.”
“Whill—”
“No, it is too dangerous.”
“If it were me with your power, and I told you to stay, what would you do?”
That gave him pause, but he quickly recovered and raised his chin. “I would
see the logic in your argument, and I would stay behind.”
“Bullshite.”
“The children are the most important thing right now,’ said Whill, touching her shoulder and giving a small squeeze. “Trust in me as you always have, and watch over them in my absence. That is the greatest thing you can do to help me right now.”
Tears welled in Avriel’s eyes, but she nodded agreement. “Fine, damn you. But know this, if you do not return, I will seek out your prison and tear it asunder.”
Part 2
Chapter27
Abe and Arra
The summer months quickly gave way to autumn, and Whill counted the days until he would have to leave for Drindellia. Kellallea had warned him not to tarry longer than the winter solstice, which was fast approaching.
He had sworn in Dirk as governor a few weeks after the elections, taking the time to bring him up to date on the country’s many issues before officially stepping down as king. Whill had his reservations, but Dirk seemed sincere in his promise to uphold the new government, and the man seemed more than competent.
It was a relief to Whill when he finally stepped down. He had never felt that he was qualified to be a king, and he hadn’t enjoyed the job very much during his short reign. Avriel had eased any guilt that he felt, telling him that he had done more than his share for the people of Uthen-Arden.
They had left Del’Oradon shortly after. Dirk had suggested a grand going away party, but Whill had preferred slipping away quietly. He had had enough of crowds and banquets, parties and celebrations. With the winter solstice less than a month away, all that Whill wanted was peace and quiet and time with Avriel. And so they had retired to Elladrindellia, where they might be alone for a time. Tarren went with them, saying that he wanted to be there for his siblings’ birth. The lad was given a month’s leave from the academy and eagerly joined Whill and Avriel on the flight to the elven lands. The only other person to go with them was Ragnar Hillman, who had said that his allegiance was to Whill, and not to Uthen-Arden. Whill had told him that he was not in need of a bodyguard, but the man had insisted. In the end, Whill agreed. He liked the man, who reminded him a lot of himself.
The Mantle of Darkness: Whill of Agora Book 7: Legends of Agora Page 12