“How did you find Fyrfrost in the spirit world?” Krentz asked Dirk.
He was quite faded, tired as he was. She knew that he didn’t have it in him to hold physical form for more than a few seconds.
“The summoning ritual that Gretzen has been working on. I was just as surprised to see him as you were.”
He stared off at the gentle ocean with a look in his eyes that Krentz knew well. For as long as she had known him, he had always possessed a thirst for power that was insatiable.
“Do you know what we can do with a spirit as powerful as Fyrfrost?” he asked. “Soon I will have bound a small army of spirit animals to me.”
“We will be able to do a lot of good, for once,” said Krentz.
“Sire, Princess Avriel has arrived.”
“What?” Whill couldn’t believe his ears. He hurriedly put away the correspondence that he had been reading and wheeled around the desk.
“She would like to speak with you, sire.”
“Where is she?”
“In the courtyard, sire. The dragon is causing a bit of an uproar in the city.”
“Guard!”
Marshal, Whill’s new captain of the guard, entered the room. He gave a small bow, causing his thin auburn hair to fall over his breastplate. “Sire.”
“Bring me to the courtyard, and quickly!”
Captain Marshal wheeled him through the pillared veranda and gardens beyond, coming out in the southern half of the courtyard. Avriel was there, standing on the shores of the swan pond. Zorriaz stood next to her, glimmering in the sunlight. To Whill, they were both as beautiful as a dwarf king’s horde.
“Princess, I am honored by your presence. Please tell me that you have no bad news,” he said, glancing at her stomach.
“I am afraid that I do,” she said, glancing at the captain. “But not about what you fear most.”
Whill understood and inwardly sighed with relief. “Please, let us speak privately in my chamber.”
Zorriaz bent her neck and nudged Whill on the shoulder gently.
“Ah, my other princess. Hello, Zorriaz.”
“Perhaps a flight would be better,” said Avriel. “There is plenty of privacy in the sky.”
Whill would have loved to, but getting up into the saddle of a dragon would have been quite a spectacle. He knew that he should have no shame of his condition, yet he hesitated to do anything that put it on display.
Avriel saw his hesitation and smiled. “I have already worked out everything.”
She turned and climbed up Zorriaz to the big saddle to retrieve what looked to be a leather harness with one large metal ring hanging from it.
“Put this on and Zorriaz will help you to the saddle. No bother, no fuss.”
He was reluctant still, and Avriel scowled stubbornly. “I insist.”
Whill shook his head and laughed. “Fine, fine. Show me how this works.”
Avriel and the captain helped him into the harness, which strapped around his shoulders with the metal ring hanging down Whill’s back. Zorriaz gently took the ring between two teeth and lifted Whill out of the chair, easily twisting her neck and placing him over the saddle. Avriel guided his legs into the seat, strapping him in at the waist.
“You’ve put me in front,” Whill noted.
“Thought you might want to steer, if she’ll let you.”
Whill couldn’t help but laugh. This was just what he needed. And seeing Avriel had already put him in a cheery mood. “Come Zorriaz, let us fly to the moon!”
The dragon gave a roar and leapt into the sky. Men on the battlements gave a cheer as they rose into the sky and flew out over the city.
“I’ve missed this,” said Whill.
Avriel was silent behind him, waiting.
He turned and glanced at her. “Being with the both of you, and flying.”
“As have I,” said Avriel. “I have felt so alone since Zerafin left…and mother.”
The shadow of a cloud passed over them as they soared over the northern city wall. “She has gone to the east…”
“Yes,” said Avriel. “I shall never see her again in this life.”
A lump swelled in Whill’s throat. Queen Araveal had been the one to first awaken his true power. She had welcomed him with open arms and had been nothing but kind.
“She will be missed and remembered for all time by all of Agora.”
“Thank you,” Avriel said quietly.
They flew for a time in silence. Whill wasn’t even holding the reins, but letting Zorriaz fly where she might. The sun was just beginning to set, and Zorriaz turned in that direction. Over ponds and valleys, steep outcroppings of hills and forests alike they flew.
Finally, Avriel found her voice. “Zorriaz, please tell him what you have told me.”
The dragon turned her neck in flight to regard the two, and her giant orbs gave warning. “It began at first like a rumbling in my mind. Then the voice became clearer. It beckoned. Offering me glory and salvation. A great migration is under way. The ancient green dragon Reshikk has summoned all of my kind to him. Every day his voice grows stronger. Every day the terror of dragons grows in number.”
“To what end?” Whill asked.
“He will bathe the world in flames and build a kingdom from the ashes.”
“It is as the goddess has said.”
Avriel touched his shoulder. “She has come to you again?”
“Yes,” said Whill. “For the last time.”
He explained to her everything that had happened during the visions and afterward. Avriel was silent for a long time, taking it all in.
“This is perhaps the most ancient account of history ever laid to mortal ears,” she finally whispered.
“Indeed,” said Whill. The gravity of the situation should have come as a shock. But to Whill the last year of his life had been a series of ever mounting impossibilities. First he was the son of a king, next he was the chosen one named in an ancient elven prophecy, now he was said to be the chosen champion of the human race. A blessed of the gods. He felt that any moment he would wake up on the road with Abram and spend the next three days telling him of the strange dream he had had.
“What do you plan to do?” Asked Avriel.
“I have called for a meeting with Roakore. If after spending time with him I can move stone with my mind, I will know that the tale is true.”
“But how will you find a healer? Orna Catorna is no more.”
“Zander healed himself when I impaled him with the dagger.”
“You mean to go after him.”
“I must.”
“Of course,” said Avriel. “You always give yourself to whatever situation needs you most.”
He turned to regard her. “What does that mean? If you wonder if it is duty that makes me want to be a father to our child, then you are partially right. But it is also out of love.”
“This changes everything.”
“I know it does, Avriel. It means that we have nothing to fear in this world.”
“How can you say that? Think of what I have been through. My story is much different than yours. I have not been so blessed. Magic has been taken from me…forever. I carry the child of a man that I do not know. I—”
“You know me. Dammit, Avriel, look at me. You know me. I don’t care what Eadon tried to do, something of our love remains in you. You know it to be true.”
“I know that I once loved you…that is enough for me to try. And I am trying.”
Zorriaz flew to the top of an outcropping of rock overlooking a long stretching valley. As soon as they landed, Avriel leapt off. The sun had begun its quick descent, sending orange, yellow, violet, and pink beams of light shooting across the sky to illuminate the wispy clouds overhead.
“One does not have to
try
at true love,” said Whill.
She walked to the edge of the stone and looked out over the valley.
“They say that the heart does not forget. And so my heart remembers. When I look upon you, my heart leaps, though I know not why. Your smile sends my mind spinning; your laughter is like music. Yet…I am scared. I must give everything to impulse.” She turned to him, tears welling in her eyes. “I am in the dark, yet I am afraid of the light.”
“I have felt that way for more than a year now. And I have questioned my worth. Why have I endured when so many have perished? Why must I face these immense challenges? Sometimes I feel like a god’s plaything, dancing to the tune of his amusement. In the end I do so because I must. Because someone has to. No matter who finds themselves chosen, they will doubt their quality. We must have faith in that we were chosen. We must have faith that good shall overcome evil, that love, prosperity, and life will endure through hate, depression, and death. For what else is there but hope?
“My hope is that we can know again the love we shared, and show it to our child. I would see us as king and queen over this land, or else explorers of another. It matters not. I want only you. For I have seen battle, I have known glory, I have witnessed death. I want to see birth, prosperity, and hope. Avriel, I want to see it with you.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she watched the setting sun. She turned and looked up at him with a love in her eyes that he had once known.
“Now I know what I saw in you. You are a good man, Whill of Agora.”
They returned to the castle close to midnight and stayed up in Whill’s chamber talking and laughing until the sun came up. It wasn’t until Avalyn knocked on the door that they realized the early hour.
With the night come and gone and far too many things requiring Whill’s attention, he saw that Avriel was given a comfortable room near to his and began his long and tedious day.
That night, when his duties were done, he joined Avriel in a dinner on the Veranda. His eyes were heavy and grainy due to his having skipped a night’s sleep. He found too that his mind was light, as though he had been given a dose of milk of the poppy.
The dinner came on silver trays and bowls. There was a creamy soup and bread, fine cheeses from faraway lands, and roasted rack of lamb. They dined and they talked, and after a round of desert and tea, they were quite full.
“Thank you for the wonderful dinner,” said Avriel when she had finished.
“Thank you for visiting me. I have had a good time. It feels like the old days.”
She offered him a pleasant smile, not quite knowing what to say to that.
“What do you remember of the events leading up to Eadon taking your memory?” he asked, seeing her discomfort.
“Well, I remember a lot, but the memories are always shrouded in fog. It is like trying to remember a dream. I recall that Zerafin and I left Elladrindellia to search you out. And I remember traveling from Sherna to Kell-Torey—just not the parts with you in them. The rest of the memories are the same.”
“Kellallea will tempt you with the lost memories,” said Whill. “Just as she will try to use this child to get her way. I fear that I have made a terrible enemy in her.”
“But you said that she will not dare act against you, for fear of making you like her.”
“Yes, but there are other ways to get to me. Through you, for instance.”
“Let your mind be at rest. Now is not the time for such worry. Now is a time for happiness and hope.”
Whill got a good night’s sleep that night. In the morning he and Avriel met with his council to discuss Zander and the gathering of dragons on Drakkar, as well as Elladrindellia’s plans of defense. It was agreed that if the tales of the ancient dragon were true, he would be out for revenge against the elves of the sun.
Whill was reluctant to tell the council members about Kellallea’s claims. Although he knew that the Empyrean Magister would no doubt be interested to hear the tale, he waited. He had known Alrick Dupree for seven months. The magister had even recognized Whill when first he stepped through the portal from Drindellia. Whill trusted the man, but he knew that Kellallea, in her great power, could likely get to anyone.
Instead they spoke of defenses and the movement of wagon trains. Whill promised Avriel a force of two thousand to secure the Uthen-Arden–Elladrindellia border and deal with the Old Ardenians. Avriel, in turn, said that the elves could muster an army of twenty thousand if need be. She had no intentions of sending them off to the north, however, as they might soon have to defend against a dragon invasion. She did promise that should the undead horde begin to spread south, the elves would help to stop them.
“With all due respect, Princess Avriel, the necromancer is said to be a dark elf,” said Magister of Secrets, Larson Donarron. “Is it not the responsibility of the elves to stop him? We know nothing of this…dark magic.”
“We know nothing of it either,” said Avriel. “Magic has been taken from us, as has all knowledge of such things. Even our spell and lore books are blank.”
“Be that as it may, your highness, it is still something that must be dealt with by the elves. It was you who first attracted them to these lands. If the elves of the sun hadn’t come to Agora, none of this would have happened.”
“That is quite enough, Donarron!” said Whill.
“No,” said Avriel. “He is right.” She looked to the gathered council with a mix of sympathy and sorrow. “We did bring this scourge to your lands. And we owe Uthen-Arden everything. Had the Warcrowns of old not given us Elladrindellia, we would have surely perished on the uncharted western seas. My mother has always kept the human race at arm’s length. Long ago we could have shared with you our gifts. But we did not. For this I will be eternally regretful. My brother wishes to leave these lands, as do many others. Soon the exodus shall begin. I have decided that I am staying.”
Whill snapped alert. She hadn’t spoken of the decision before.
“I shall remain here with those who also wish to stay. I wish to usher in a new era of elf-human relations. No more will we hide away in our crystal pyramids and forests. It is our responsibility to help against Zander, and help we shall. Forget my earlier statements. We will send five thousand skilled warriors to help take back the north. I would offer more, but I fear they will be needed should the dragons decide to attack.”