The Mantle of Darkness: Whill of Agora Book 7: Legends of Agora

by Ploof,Michael James

  “The gods have renewed their pact,” said Kellallea, looking to Lunara. “The power of the mantle has been contained once again. We will not intervene in the lives of mortals, lest we weaken the prison as before.”

  “The gods have returned to their heavenly thrones, yet you remain,” said Whill.

  “Indeed,” said Kellallea, smirking, but she did not elaborate.

  She took one last look at Lunara and offered Whill a bow. “This is where I leave you,” she said and turned away from him.

  “Do you think I will let you get away with this?”

  Kellallea stopped and regarded him with a grin. “But I already have. The power has been contained. Your family is safe. Lunara did what she did of her own accord. Be glad that it is not you sitting upon that throne. Go back to your family and be grateful. You and I are finished.”

  With that, she disappeared.

  “Kellallea? Kellallea!”

  Whill shook with rage. He turned toward the throne and approached the orb of godly energy protecting the world from the power of darkness. Lunara’s eyes still glowed with the same hellish light.

  “I’m so sorry, Lunara. I never meant for you to get hurt.”

  If she could hear or see him, she gave no indication. Whill pounded his fist against the globe and was zapped and thrown backwards many feet. He groaned as the pain subsided and a strong hand found his shoulder.

  Whill looked up to see Roakore staring down on him with a look of sympathy and tears in his eyes.

  “I be sorry, lad.”

  Whill allowed himself to be helped up and looked to Lunara once more. “I will find a way to free you. I promise,” he told her, and turned away before he broke down.

  There he found the others staring past him at the new Queen of Darkness and Death.

  “What has she done?” Zerafin asked, walking past Whill to stand before the orb.

  “Lunara took up the power before I could. She sacrificed herself for me. She sacrificed herself for all of us.”

  “Did you hear those voices?” Ragnar asked, looking ashen. “Were those…it was the gods.”

  Whill didn’t answer, but he knelt before the energy globe as hot tears spilled down his scorched cheeks.

  “It be over, then?” asked Raene behind him. “The world be safe?”

  “Aye, cousin, the world be safe,” said Roakore solemnly.

  “I am sorry, Whill,” said Zerafin, laying a comforting hand upon his shoulder. “I know that she meant a lot to you. But take heart in the gift that she has given you and do not tarnish it with anger and sorrow. You can now return to Avriel and your children.”

  That should have lit Whill’s darkened heart. But all he felt was anger, sorrow, despair, and overwhelming guilt.

  I will free you from this prison, he tried saying to her mind.

  No answer was forthcoming.

  Chapter 42

  Fear Thyself

  Whill stepped out of the chamber and looked to the sky. The sun shone brightly, and there was not a cloud to be seen. The power that he had absorbed from Eldarian still coursed within him, and he retained as well the knowledge that went with it. He looked out over the dead land with mind sight, beyond the forest of needles, to the twisted land beyond. The sword of his father glowed in his hand, and he knew what he must do.

  “Stand back,” he told the others.

  Whill walked to the edge and closed his eyes, focusing on the power of darkness churning within him, but also the power of Zalenlia that he had absorbed those many months ago. With the golden dragon’s power, he transformed the dark energy within him to that of light and life, and unleashed it all onto the land.

  The spell hit the stone and dirt and rumbled across the land, spreading like a forest fire. But rather than destruction, life bloomed in its wake. Zalenlia came to stand beside him and began singing her song of healing, which echoed over the land wide and far.

  Whill poured more and more of the pent-up energy into the spell, trying to rid himself of it all. When he realized that there indeed was no end to his power, he cried out Lunara’s name and redoubled his efforts, spreading life and healing energy across all of Drindellia.

  Finally, he stopped, panting, and fell to his knees, staring at his hands.

  “Are you alright?” Zerafin asked.

  “I possess the power of a god. And I can’t be rid of it.”

  “You absorbed it from Eldarian?”

  Whill nodded, feeling terrified.

  “Fret not, my friend,” said Zerafin, helping him to stand. “If I know you, you will use it for good, as you have just done.”

  “And if I don’t…If I change?”

  “Then we’ll put a boot in yer arse,” said Roakore, trying to alleviate Whill’s dour mood.

  Whill couldn’t help but laugh, and his laughter turned into tears. He wiped at his nose angrily and looked to Zerafin. “You are right. Perhaps I can use it for good. Let me return to you the knowledge that was taken.”

  Zerafin blanched, realizing what Whill meant.

  “You don’t mean…can you do it?”

  Whill smiled and nodded, reaching out his hand and placing it on Zerafin’s head. Zerafin closed his eyes, and a placid expression crossed his face. With mind sight, Whill located the part of Zerafin’s mind that allowed him to perform magic, the part that Kellallea had altered. Blue tendrils of healing moved through his hand and into Zerafin, and the elf gasped.

  Whill released him and stepped back. “How do you feel?”

  Zerafin opened his eyes, and tears welled in them. He raised a shaky hand and glanced around for something. Spotting a rock, he reached out a hand and mentally lifted it up off the ground. A quick, delighted laugh escaped him. He shot his hand to the sky, and a fire spell erupted from his other palm.

  “This is incredible,” he said, staring at his hands. “Thank you, my friend, thank you.”

  “Ye plan on restorin’ all the power back to the elves?” Roakore asked with a cocked eyebrow.

  “I do,” said Whill.

  Zerafin’s smile faded, and a look of apprehension replaced it. “Do you think that we are ready? Kellallea thought that it would one day destroy us, as it nearly did.”

  “She nearly destroyed you. Eadon was her tool from the very beginning. As was I. Who is she to make such a claim?”

  “There will always be those who will use Orna Catorna for ill,” said Zerafin.

  “And there will always be people like us to stop them,” said Whill.

  “Here, here!” Roakore cheered.

  Whill noticed Zalenlia looking off to the east and approached her, admiring the way the sunlight danced upon her golden scales. “Are you leaving us?”

  Zalenlia craned her neck and nodded. “My children await my return.”

  “Thank you for all that you have done. Know that you have a friend eternal. If ever you are in need, I will answer your call.”

  “Likewise, Whillhelm Warcrown. You are a good man,” she said, and cocked her head to stare at him with one giant golden orb. “See that you remain that way.”

  Whill couldn’t help but notice how Roakore tensed.

  Zorriaz strode over to stand before the golden dragon. She glanced back at Whill, her eyes heavy with the weight of indecision. Finally she gave a sigh and addressed her queen.

  “Good Zalenlia. I have considered your offer to join you and the others in the east, but…”

  “Your heart lies elsewhere,” said Zalenlia.

  “Yes. For now I shall remain with Whill and Avriel.”

  “I understand. But know that you ever have a home in the east. Seek us out some day.”

  “I will.”

  Zalenlia offered the group a final nod of respect and turned and leapt off the ledge. Together the companions watched her soar over the now blooming landscape.

  “Come on then,” said Roakore in a huff. “Let’s get the hells out of this godsforsaken hellhole.”

  They left the mountain, now home to
Lunara and her godly prison, and flew west toward the coast. All the while Whill thought of her, trapped there in her eternal prison, and he began contemplating ways that he might free her.

  Chapter 43

  The Birth of an Age

  They reached the elven outpost a few days later, having flown straight from the mountain without stopping at Velk’Har. Flying over the land, Whill learned that his spell had indeed spread across the entire country, for this time they flew over a lush green land of forests, rolling hills, and sprawling meadows dotted with lakes, ponds, rivers, and streams. The trees had been healed as well, and though they were still gnarled and twisted, buds had begun to sprout on them. Whill had no doubt that winter would hinder their growth, but come springtime, he knew that Drindellia would flourish as it had not done in hundreds of years. He became excited to return to Agora and heal the northern lands that had been ravaged by Zander and his undead hordes. He and Avriel had done what they could after the war, but they hadn’t the great power that he now possessed. Whill hoped that in doing good with his godly power, he might have a better chance at resisting its dark nature.

  Philo and Azzeal were there to greet them when they landed, and soon the call went out all through the elven village that they had returned.

  Roakore dismounted and stretched his tired legs, and was nearly barreled over by an over-excited and slightly drunk Philo.

  “Ye made it back, me king. Glory be to Ky’Dren!” said Philo, hugging him fiercely. “And Raene Goldenheart, it be good to be layin’ eyes on ye again.”

  “O’ course I made it back, and what’s more, we found Velk’Har!”

  “Glory be,” said Philo reverently.

  “Me cousin claimed hisself king o’ Velk’Har, he did,” said Raene proudly. “And Ky’Dren blessed his proclamation with a cleansing o’ mountain water that done washed right through the city.”

  “Glory be,” said Philo once more. He slammed his fist to his chest and bowed low before springing up and taking Roakore’s hand and raising it skyward. “Listen up ye pointy-eared elves and ye grizzled dwarves! Roakore be the first king o’ Velk’Har!”

  The dwarves bowed low, praising Roakore and Ky’Dren alike, while the elves clapped and offered cheers of their own.

  Just then, a shrieking Arrianna pushed through the crowd and leapt into her husband’s arms, barreling Roakore over and landing on top of him, showering him with kisses.

  Whill couldn’t help but smile with the others, for it was indeed a glorious day for his friend and the dwarves.

  “My good elves, gather round, for I have an announcement as well,” said Zerafin.

  The elves heeded the call, and soon hundreds were gathered around the unfinished pyramid. Zerafin stood upon a large square block of stone that had yet to be put in place and raised his hands to quiet the curious crowd.

  “You all must be very curious as to what happened on our journey, and it is with mixed emotions that I tell you now. Firstly, the threat has been dealt with. The mantle of darkness has been subdued once more. Drindellia, and indeed the entire world, is safe!”

  The crowd cheered, and Zerafin waited patiently for them to settle down once more.

  “Secondly, it is with a heavy heart that I tell you that it was Lunara who took up the mantle before Whill could. She now resides in the eternal prison, which was remade by the gods.”

  Shocked expressions echoed through the crowd.

  “She sacrificed herself for us all. Let it be known that she is a hero, not only among elves, but men and dwarves alike.”

  Praises for Lunara rang out, and Whill choked back his sorrow and guilt and called her name in reverence as well.

  A feast was had that night as had not been enjoyed in Drindellia in half a millennium. The ocean was bountiful. Fish and seaweed there was aplenty, along with shellfish and eel. The dwarves had brought enough ale to last them months, and indeed it would be needed if Roakore’s ideas went as planned.

  “I be returnin’ to Agora the day after next with Whill,” he told Philo as they dined with the others.

  “Ye be returnin’, me king?”

  “Aye, I be wantin’ ye to stay here with the others. Find a beach that suits our needs. Until the land is healed proper and we get some livestock over here from Agora, fishin’ is what’ll be feedin’ us. So ye be needin’ to build an outpost, and machines to help clear a road from here to Velk’Har. Ye be needin to build boats as well. The trip takes three months each way, so I should return for spring. I expect to find everything done.”

  Philo nodded agreeably as he ate his fish. “Oh, ye’ll find everythin’ to yer likin’, I be thinkin’.”

  “Good. I be returnin’ with a thousand dwarves, and not only warriors. We be needin’ skilled workers to rebuild the mountain home. Ye want me bringin’ back any o’ yer wives or young’uns?”

  “Aye, bring ‘em all. I be puttin’ ‘em to work right quick. And good workers they be, one and all. Ye be bringin’ all yer wives?”

  Roakore glanced over at Arrianna, whose ears perked at the mention, though she tried to hide her eavesdropping.

  “I ain’t for knowin’ yet. I got me mind on other things. Tonight I want ye to put together a list o’ things ye think we might be needin’. There ain’t no easy goin’ back for things we forgot.”

  “Consider it done,” said Philo.

  “What was it like?” said Arrianna. “The mountain, I mean.”

  “Oh, lass, it was beautiful,” said Roakore, sitting back from the table and lighting a pipe. “It be the biggest mountain ye ever done seen, or I’m a dragon whelp. And the city, oh the city. It be fine craftsmanship what built that. There be columns five hundred feet tall if they be an inch, and buildings three, four, five stories high. Some were built into the walls o’ the great cavern, and others was free standin’ like. And all along them walls there be sculptures and runes. I can’t image what history we might find in that place. It be the missin’ link to our people’s past.”

  Arrianna sighed dreamily. “I can’t wait to see it. Oh, please, Roakore, bring me there before we leave. Surely Silverwind can fly us there and back in a week or less.”

  “I would love to, lass, but there be no time to be sparin’ a week. It kills me to return to Agora and not see Ky’Dren’s mountain for six months. But when I do see it again, I ain’t for leavin’ until it be settled proper.”

  Zerafin, who sat nearby and had overheard most of the conversation, lifted his glass. “To the new dwarf kingdom. We look forward to sharing a long and prosperous friendship with the dwarves of Drindellia.”

  Everyone at the main table raised their glass and cheered along.

  “Thank ye, good king. We be lookin’ forward to the same. Will be nice to have some peace for once. What about you, Whill? What be yer plans after returnin’ to Agora?”

  “Well, I am of the same mind as you and Zerafin. This is a vast land, with more than enough space for multiple settlements. I would like to bring those who want to come from the human kingdoms here and settle the land as well. As you say, peace would be a nice change.”

  “Hah!” said Roakore, slapping his knee. “That makes me a happy dwarf that does. Who would have thought that the three companion kings would have settled Drindellia together?”

  “It will be a glorious new age to be sure,” said Zerafin, raising his glass once more.

  Chapter 44

  Queen’s Landing

  Before they disembarked on the journey back to Agora, Whill took the time to return the knowledge of Orna Catorna to Azzeal. He had spoken about it at length with Zerafin, and in the end, the king of the elves had agreed.

  When they called him into Zerafin’s abode and told him of their decision, Azzeal fell to his knees and wept.

  “I cannot tell you what an honor this is,” he told them both.

  “If any deserve the powers of old, it is you,” said Zerafin.

  Whill touched his hand to Azzeal’s head, and like he had done for Zera
fin, he unlocked the part of his mind that Kellallea had hidden from him.

  At once Azzeal looked to his hands in wonder.

  “Well then, let’s see if it worked,” said Zerafin with a grin.

  Azzeal’s eyes went wide. He raised a hand to the heavens and spoke an incantation. There was a flash of light and his body suddenly morphed into that of a wolf. He tossed back his head and gave a triumphant howl.

  Whill laughed with Zerafin, happy to have a chance to spread so much joy.

  When the ships were ready, Whill and the others gathered on the dock to say their farewells. Azzeal decided to remain behind and help with the building of the first settlement, which was aptly named New Cerushia. Raene also opted to remain in Drindellia, teasingly saying that Philo would need the help. That seemed to please Philo to no end, Roakore noted.

  Two days after arriving in New Cerushia, Whill and the others set out. The day was mild, hinting at the winter to come, but the sun shone brightly in the sky, and fat white clouds drifted along swiftly, propelled by a strong wind.

  They left the cove to much fanfare, and as they did, the dwarves standing upon the cliff overlooking the ocean began to sing a traveling song. It was one that Roakore had never heard before, and he suspected the author to be Philo.

  After a few versus, the elves joined in, and their melodic harmonies combined with the dwarves’ deep baritones, coming together to create a uniquely beautiful and magical song.

  O’er oceans blue and mountains green, oh the sights I seen

  From dragon lair to elf maiden fair, oh the sights I seen

  Tales o’ the places I been could fill a dwarven tome

  But there ain’t no better sight, than settin’ me eyes on home

  The sails were lowered and the wind caught well. Whill looked to the west, eager to return to Avriel and once again lay eyes upon Abe and Arra. He thought of Lunara then, and he smiled, not wanting to tarnish the memory of her sacrifice as Zerafin had mentioned.