“I know, Whill. I’m sorry also for having to put you through this. But soon we will sail, and soon you will know.”
Brillia returned with the steaming food. It smelled delicious, but Whill had lost his appetite. He ate little of the stew or bread and left the table saying that he was tired from the day’s work. As he lay on his soft bed and watched the moon flirt with the passing clouds, he realized that he indeed was very tired. Sleep soon found him, as did dreams of his long-dead parents. They stood upon a tall hill, waving happily. But he could not reach them; no matter how he tried, he could not find the top of the hill. The faster he climbed, the taller it got, until a mountain stood before him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The sun shone in upon Whill’s face. The sky was clear blue and the morning air sweet. A small bird sat at the windowsill peering curiously at Whill, quickly jerking its head to get different angles of him. He sat up as the bird flew away and noticed Abram sitting at the small table looking at what appeared to be a map.
“Good morning,” he said as Whill got up and hurriedly got dressed.
“Damn! I’m supposed to meet the brothers at first light at the docks.”
“Relax, I sent word with that boy Tarren that you would be late. I want to show you something.” He gestured to the opposite seat and rotated the map for Whill to see.
“I told you I had small business yesterday. Well, I met with King Mathus and Lord Rogus. The king is very eager to meet with us when we are finished in the mountains.”
“Why?”
Abram took a deep breath as if troubled. “It seems that King Addakon of Uthen-Arden has declared war against Isladon. As we speak, war wages upon its borders. No word has come from King Fenious of Isladon. The Arden navy has blocked off the entire coast of Isladon, and Mathus fears that Drindale will soon fall.”
Whill sat back in his chair in disbelief. “So Mathus wants to know if we intend to fight?”
“That he does.”
“And you told him yes, I assume.”
“No, I told him our answer will come after we visit Dy’Kore.”
Whill thought for a moment about the severity of a war within Agora. There had not been strife among the kingdoms for more than five hundred years.
“What of the Draggard within the Ebony Mountains?” Whill asked.
“It is as I have warned the kings for years: King Addakon has made them his allies. It was obvious when Addakon did nothing to help Isladon in vanquishing that retched scourge from the mountains. But the kings would not listen. They did not want to believe the ugly truth. Now it is apparent.”
Whill was stupefied. “But how can Addakon persuade his soldiers to fight their own kind within Isladon alongside those demonic beasts?”
“Addakon is of strong mind and he can make his will that of others. His army is nothing but a group of mindless pawns.”
“And what of the people of Uthen-Arden? They must object to this outrage.”
“The people know not of his alliance with the Draggard. He has told them that Fenious is the one who has befriended the fell beasts, and he has turned them against the elves as well. He tells his people that the elves are indeed the masters of the Draggard, and that they are plotting to take all of Agora for their own. I fear that Elladrindellia will be Addakon’s next target.”
Whill sat shocked. “This is ridiculous! King Addakon has treated his people terribly since he has been in power. Never in the history of Arden has there been a more brutal king. How can they believe his lies and follow so blindly?”
“Do not forget, Whill, Addakon will have been carefully planning all this for many years. And though he has treated his people badly, they will follow his lead if presented with a common enemy. Especially one so terrible as the Draggard.”
Whill’s mind raced as he tried to comprehend what he had heard. He stood up and slammed his fist down on the table. “We must do something! There is no time to wait for the ship to be finished. Let us go now to the mountains and be done with it! We must tell Mathus that we will fight.”
Abram smiled. “I’d hoped you would say that.”
With that, Whill and Abram grabbed their things and hurriedly packed their bags. They left Ocean Mist and made their way to the bank together on Whill’s horse. Once inside the bank they converted all but one bag of gold to diamonds. Upon finishing the transaction, they quickly rode to the docks and found Freston.
“We must leave Fendale at once, my friend,” Abram told him.
“What’s wrong? Is there trouble?”
“Yes, of the worst kind.” He quickly explained what he knew of the Isladon siege.
Freston did not seem shocked. “I knew Addakon was no good. Ever since his brother died, things haven’t been right in Arden.”
“We wish to leave today, as soon as possible,” Abram said. “Do you know of anyone who will sell us a vessel?”
“Of course. I will.” He pointed to a small ship docked forty feet away. “I have three of them, as you know, but there is no need to buy it. If you must go, go now and take
Whill stepped forward. “Will you take care of my horse until we return?”
“Like she were my own. And your ship as well, lad. It’s a shame you won’t see her come to life.”
Whill nodded. “I was looking forward to sailing her soon, but that will have to wait.”
Freston led them to a large wooden building built into the back of the cave. It was a store for sailors to get last-minute supplies. Whill ordered dried meats, cheese, bread, and a barrel of water. Next to the barrels of wine, mead, and water there was a large stack of barrels labeled “Dragon’s Brew” in bold red letters. He laughed to himself and said, “I’ll take a small barrel of old Barlemew’s brew also.”
He overpaid by a few gold coins and carried the meat while a young boy wheeled the rest of the things to the boat. Together Whill and Abram loaded the vessel and said their farewells to Freston and his sons.
Because there was no wind within the cave, the ship had to be pulled by a rowed tugboat. Twenty men pulled vigorously on their oars as they slowly pulled
“Are you ready to sail, my boy?”
“That I am, sir. That I am.”
Together they opened the sail and quickly caught wind. Whill took in the familiar smell of the ocean water. With the wind in his hair and the wheel in hand he steered them westward. Their path would bring them completely around the western coast of Eldalon, roughly a thousand miles to the port town of Sherna.
Whill looked at the city above the cliff. Even in the sunlight he could make out the white beam of the lighthouse. He regretted having to leave Fendale. He loved its people and the city itself. But at least now he would find out his past, locked away somewhere in the dark recesses of the Ky’Dren Mountains.
Abram looked at the sky. “We should make Sherna in about a week if this wind keeps up. From there it will be another forty or so miles to the mountains.”
Whill nodded. “I assume we’ll walk from there. Horses won’t be much use in the mountains.”
“No, they won’t, and it should be less than a day’s walk. But once we arrive we must travel through the mountains for another twenty-five miles. And as you know, the mountains can be treacherous.”
They sailed steady the entire day until the sun began to set behind the vast blue ocean. It appeared to be bigger than usual, soft orange behind the clouds. The sun’s rays shot up from behind the clouds in brilliant hues.
