The Warcrown Legacy

by Michael James Ploof

  Roakore read from the long list of the fallen, and each name was repeated by the gathered dwarves. Songs were sung in honor of the dead, tears were shed, and eulogies given. The dwarves had lost nearly a thousand warriors in the reclamation of Velk’Har, but each had earned their place in the Mountain of the Gods.

  “Many fell,” said Roakore. “But many heroes emerged as well. Three of them stand with me here today. First, it be me honor to name me good friend Philo. Many of you know him as the reigning champion of the annual ale guzzling competition, but his taste for the spirits proved vital in our victory over the mind-benders. It was Philo alone who discovered that the albinos couldn’t get into our heads if we be drunk, and it be because o’ him that we be victorious.”

  The crowd cheered for Philo the Thirsty, and Roakore raised a cloth-covered object into the air.

  “It be with great pleasure that I present Philo with the Golden Goblet!” Roakore said as he pulled back the cloth.

  The crowd cheered, hooted, and whistled, and a tipsy Philo walked out onto the stone ledge and accepted the goblet with a wide grin. Everyone waited to hear his victory speech with happy smiles. But then Philo frowned, eyed Roakore, and turned the goblet upside down.

  “It be empty! What good be an empty goblet?”

  He turned to regard Roakore, who stood with hands on hips, shaking his head in amusement. Helzendar rushed out from the shadows then and dumped a full barrel of beer over Philo, to the great amusement of the crowd. The goblet was filled in the process, and an ale-soaked Philo raised his glass and then guzzled it down.

  “Once we learned the secret to defeatin’ the albinos,” said Roakore, “we needed to procure the spirits necessary to carry us through battle. The next award goes to me cousin, and one hell o’ a warrior, Raene the Goldenheart!”

  The dwarves chanted Raene’s name as she stepped forward with a wide smile on her face. The females especially loved the princess, for her proclamation had given the female dwarves the same rights as the menfolk. When the crowd finally settled, Roakore presented Raene with a gold- and gem-encrusted miniature of the largest of the Velk’Har Mountains.

  “Ye be the heart o’ the mountain, Raene,” Roakore told her with watery eyes. “And ye be a true servant o’ Ky’Dren if I ever did see one. Thank ye for your service.”

  A dwarf carried another covered prize over to Roakore, and he motioned for Ragnar to join him near the ledge.

  “Ye all be knowin’ that this man, Ragnar Hillman, be a blessed o’ the dwarven gods. And yet again he has proven their great wisdom. Had it not been for Ragnar, the wagon o’ spirits never would’ve made it to the mountain.” Roakore turned toward Ragnar and unveiled his prize. The dwarves all fawned over the magnificent treasure. It was a gilded key that was one foot long and covered in red rubies. “Ragnar Hillman, I present ye with the key to Velk’Har, and I hereby name ye guardian general o’ the mountain.”

  “Thank you, me king,” said Ragnar as he accepted the heavy key.

  Raene watched with shimmering eyes, and when Ragnar turned to her and spread his arms wide, she shocked the entire crowd by running to him and embracing him in a hug.

  “Uhhh,” said Roakore as he shared his people’s surprise. “Let the celebrations begin!”

  The shocked exclamations of the dwarves were suddenly drowned out by upbeat drums, and Raene kissed Ragnar full on the mouth.

  Chapter 37

  “Whillhelm Warcrown has been successful in Drindellia,” said Larson Donarron.

  Dirk glanced in the mirror at Krentz as he poured himself rum at the small bar.

  “This is good news,” Krentz said stiffly.

  “Indeed,” said Larson, and a knowing grin fleetingly teased the corner of his mouth.

  “Perhaps now we can know true peace,” said Dirk. He had heard other rumors, told to him by men and women who claimed to have a connection to the spirit realm, and they had told Dirk that Whill had faced the gods themselves. He didn’t know if the mystics’ information could be believed, but he didn’t put it past Whill to accomplish such a feat.

  “Would you like me to continue searching for others with Whillhelm’s power?” Larson asked.

  “Yes,” said Dirk. “There are still those out there who would use the gifted young men and women for ill intent. They must be protected.”

  “Of course, my lord,” said Larson. He bowed to Krentz, offering her a “My lady,” and then slipped out of the room with the easy grace of a serpent.

  “This changes everything,” said Krentz.

  Dirk joined her by the window and watched the soldiers marching across the courtyard far below.

  “If what the spirit-seers say is true, the world is now safe from the wrath of the gods,” said Dirk. “We have been spared destruction; surely you don’t think that is a bad thing.”

  “Of course not, but it will be that much harder for us to secure the throne of Eldalon,” she reminded him.

  “We shall see about that,” said Dirk. “With more people like Fern, it may be easier than you think.”

  “I am sure that Whill has plans for them,” said Krentz.

  “I suspect that there may be far more men and women out there like Fern than we think. And I doubt that Whill will be able to find or control them all. He has made Drindellia his new home, and he is all but blind to the happenings in and around Agora. People like Fern will prove invaluable to our future, and that of our kingdom. For I believe that he who controls them, controls Agora.”

  “They will prove dangerous,” said Krentz.

  “All the more reason to gather them as soon as we can and help them to understand their powers. There will be those among them who will resist, of course, and many more who will try to rise to power on their own. And they will need to be dealt with.”

  “I had hoped to know peace for a time,” Krentz lamented as she rubbed her swelled stomach.

  “Where there is great power, there is war,” said Dirk. “We cannot change the nature of the sentient races. But we can try and ensure that someone like your father never comes to power again.”

  A knock at the door caught Dirk’s attention, and he invited the caller inside.

  “Sir, the portal has opened,” a guard said from the door.

  “We will be there in a moment,” said Dirk.

  He and Krentz changed into clothes more befitting a meeting with elven and dwarven royalty and flew Fyrfrost to the portal on the hill outside of the city. After dismounting and dismissing the spirit dragon, they stepped through the portal and walked out into the Drindellian sunshine.

  The countryside looked nothing like Dirk thought it would. There were no signs of war, though he knew that the drekkon had attacked New Cerushia. From the hill overlooking the land, he could see the elven city in the distance to the north, and the human settlement to the south.

  “Whillhelm is eager to speak with you,” said an elf as he approached, and Dirk extended his hand to Azzeal and smiled.

  “Azzeal, my friend, you look well, as does the land,” said Dirk.

  “Thank you,” Azzeal said with a small bow. He took Krentz’s hand and kissed it, then smiled when he glanced at her stomach. “Lady Krentz.”

  “Hello Azzeal,” she said with a bow.

  Zorriaz flew overhead and let out a roar before landing behind Azzeal.

  “Shall we?” Azzeal asked as he gestured toward the dragon.

  They mounted Zorriaz and flew to New Cerushia, where they found thousands of elves crowding the streets in merry celebration. There were humans there as well, along with a large group of dwarves. A flock of silver hawks circled above the city, and Dirk guessed that Roakore was among the dwarves who had come to celebrate.

  His guess was proven correct when Azzeal led them into one of the large pyramids at the center of the city. For inside he found not only Roakore and Helzendar, but also the king of the Elgar Mountains, Whill, and Zerafin.

  “Governor,” said Whill as Dirk and Krentz approached
. “You look surprised to see me.”

  “I’m always surprised to see you alive, Whill,” Dirk admitted with a wry grin.

  Whill laughed, and to Dirk he sounded like a happy man. Since Dirk had known him, Whill had been a brooding young man, but given the weight that was put on his shoulders, it was understandable. Now, however, that weight seemed to be gone.

  “Please, have a seat, there is much to discuss,” said Whill, motioning to the large round table at the center of the pyramid.

  Dirk and Krentz sat at the table between Zerafin and the dwarf kings, and they all offered their greetings. Whill took a seat opposite Dirk and Krentz, and Dirk could tell that something was weighing heavily on Whill’s mind.

  “I have spoken with some of you about this privately,” said Whill as he glanced at Roakore. “And I am sure that the rest of you have heard the rumors. I have tried to put into words what happened to me when I freed Lunara and took upon myself the power of the mantle of darkness, but there are no words to properly relay the experience. I must admit that now it all seems like a dream.” He paused and gauged the room, specifically Dirk. “I have faced the gods,” he said bluntly. “I have faced the gods, and somehow I have appeased them. They have agreed to leave this world alone.”

  Everyone stared, and Whill sat back in his chair, looking much more relaxed to have gotten the incredible news off his chest.

  “Did ye speak with Ky’Dren?” said Helzendar.

  “I do not know to whom I spoke. But one of them seemed very much like a dwarf. I believe there was a human, a dragon, and an elf, among others. Most of my interactions were with the Lord of Light, and I think that he was leaning toward sparing our world all along. I do not know what motivates them, nor do I know who or what they really are, but I trust the man I spoke to, and I believed him when he said we would be left to live in peace. Ironically, however, the gods have deemed it fitting to let us retain our many blessings, our gods-given magic, and that brings me to my most pressing concern, which is the other blessed humans.”

  Dirk and Krentz shared a glance, and Whill didn’t miss it.

  “To tell you the truth,” Whill went on, “I think that we would all be better off if there was no magic at all.”

  “Now that be rubbish!” Du’Krell protested.

  “We be the blessed o’ Ky’Dren,” Helzendar put in.

  “Kellallea thought as you do,” said Zerafin. “And many elders died because of her folly.”

  “I agree with Whill, to an extent,” said Dirk, silencing them all. “Granted, I have no magic, but I have dealt closely with it most of my life, and I have seen the devastation that it has wrought. We humans have been at a disadvantage for centuries. Our entire continent was nearly lost because of the feud between sun elves and dark elves, but now that some among us have been blessed with this incredible power, humanity has the power to protect itself.”

  “Hear, hear,” said Roakore.

  “It will only be a matter of time before one among the blessed humans rises up,” said Whill. “Agora is shattered. People are scared, tired, angry. It will only take a man or woman with the slightest bit of charisma to turn the people to their side, and I fear that they may retaliate against the elves for what happened, and maybe even the dwarves.”

  “Bah, but ye just be guessin’,” said Du’Krell.

  “I wish that were so,” Whill said. He let out a reluctant sigh. “When I possessed the power of the mantle, when I became the Lord of Darkness and Death, I…saw things. The memories are foggy, as though born from a dream that I have just awakened from. But I remember the essence of my premonitions, and I believe that a war between the blessed is inevitable.”

  “Then what do you suggest be done about it?” Du’Krell asked.

  “That is why I have gathered you all here,” Whill said with a shrug. “I am at a loss. There are many options, but none of them are practical or morally sound.”

  “I have spoken to Whill about this in the past,” said Dirk. “And it was I who suggested that the most practical route would be to simply put them down. But of course we cannot do that. Having the powers of the humans of old does not make one guilty.”

  “Bah,” said Roakore. “Ye be worryin’ too much, Whill. Ye be a blessed o’ the humans, and your power never blackened your heart.”

  “Thank you, my friend, but it was not easy, and where I have succeeded, I fear that others might fail. Humans and power are a dangerous mix. And this ability that I have, that we have, it is attained before it is earned, and as you well know, power without wisdom leads to disaster. Humans with the ability to absorb the power of the other races is like an infant with a magical sword. Would you want to be anywhere within striking distance?”

  “There will always be those who use their power for evil pursuits,” said Zerafin, “but there are many more who do not. I propose that the blessed humans be sought out and taught how to control their magic. With you as their leader, Whill, I do not doubt that they will be a blessing to society, and not a bane.”

  “It takes only one to undo all the good that has been done,” said Whill. “Look at Eadon, Eldarian, Kellallea, and the human Orrian.”

  “Bah, a dwarf ain’t never used his power for ill,” said Du’Krell.

  “All due respect,” said Dirk. “But didn’t the dwarves just wipe out the creatures living in the Velk’Har Mountains?”

  “Them was evil little mind-benders!” said Roakore.

  “Where they evil? Seems to me they were just defending their territory.”

  Roakore stood up and slammed a hatchet down on the table. “The Velk’Har Mountains be the original home o’ Ky’Dren! It be rightfully ours!”

  “Then all of Agora is rightfully ours,” said Dirk with a shrug. “We were the first to settle the land. Does that mean that the humans should rout the dwarves and elves from Agora?”

  Roakore was left speechless and fuming.

  “Dirk has a point,” said Krentz. “And if my memory serves correctly, weren’t the Velk’Har Mountains originally home to the dragons?”

  “This be blasphemy!” Du’Krell bellowed and shot to his feet.

  “Please, let’s not let our emotions get away from us,” said Zerafin. “These are all valid arguments.”

  “Now ye be sidin’ with the dark elf?” Du’Krell spat.

  “I side with reason, good dwarf.”

  “I did not mean to insult any of you,” Dirk said loudly. “I am merely trying to illustrate that evil is a matter of perspective, and vengeance leads to ill deeds. Whill is right to worry about what will happen should humanity become too powerful, and frankly, I am surprised that the rest of you aren’t more concerned.”

  “If ye fear yer own kind so much,” said Du’Krell, “then hunt ‘em down and destroy ‘em. We ain’t afraid o’ what might happen. Humans and dwarves have lived together for centuries. Ye all be fussin’ over nothin’.”

  “I am simply trying to think of the future and avoid unnecessary war,” said Whill.

  “Your concerns are noble, and they are appreciated,” said Zerafin. “And that is why I reiterate my suggestion that the other humans like you are sought out and properly trained.”

  “Trained by who?” said Whill. “The elves?”

  “We would be glad to help, of course,” said Zerafin. “We have, after all, trained the men in your family line for centuries.”

  “Yes, including Addakon, who grew to become Eadon’s puppet,” Whill said with a mirthless laugh.

  “Perhaps under your tutelage, Whill, another Addakon can be avoided,” said Dirk.

  “I refuse to take on that responsibility,” said Whill. “I cannot change a person’s nature, and in the end, I would inevitably fail.”

  “If ye be scared, then say ye be scared,” said Du’Krell.

  “A man without fear is a dangerous man indeed, good king. But I have not gathered you all here so that you can decide whether I should train and lead the blessed humans. I have come to help
you all come to a decision as to who else might take on that responsibility.” Whill paused and looked them each in the eye, and Dirk could see how tired the man was. “I have decided to dedicate my time to the Morenka arts; therefore, I graciously decline your nomination.”

  “Morenka?” said Roakore with surprise. “Ye want to be a damned monk?”

  “Yes,” said Whill. “I have seen enough of war and death. I have defeated Addakon, Eadon, and Eldarian. Hell, I have battled the gods themselves on the behalf of every living person on this planet, and I believe that I have earned my retirement.”

  “Right ye be,” said Roakore with a solemn nod. “I apologize for me outburst. If any man deserves peace, it be ye.”

  “That be all fine and dandy,” said Du’Krell. “But we still need to decide what to do ‘bout the blessed humans.”

  “I will lead them,” said Dirk. “Aside from Whill, there isn’t a man alive with more experience than I. With the elves’ help, and of course that of the dwarves, I would see to their training, and I would establish a code of honor and conduct.”

  “Heh!” Roakore laughed. “Leave it to Dirk Blackthorn to slide right into the role like the slippery snake he be. Ye think we forgot how ye sold us out to Eadon?”

  “I did what I had to do to save Krentz,” said Dirk.

  “Aye, and what if ye be put in that position again?” said Roakore.

  “Dirk is the governor of Uthen-Arden,” said Whill. “Do you think that I would let him rule the kingdom of my forefathers if I had any doubt about his character?”

  “Bah,” said Roakore. “Ye can think what ye want. But I know what kind o’ man he be.”

  “I gave my life in the fight against Eadon,” said Dirk. “It is only by the grace of the gods that life was returned to me. What more must I do to prove myself to you?”

  “Once a liar, always a liar,” said Roakore.

  “Please,” said Whill. “Fighting will get us nowhere.”

  “Well I ain’t agreein’ to this,” Roakore told him.

  “Aye, me neither,” said Helzendar.