“Ah, sunset upon the ocean,” Abram said. “Never will man mimic such beauty.”
With the stars came a chill that rode on the wind as the night air pushed the ship steadily along. Whill shivered with the drop in temperature. Abram went below and retrieved his long, hooded brown robe.
“I was going to give you this in Fendale on your birthday next week, but I figure you’ll be needing it now. Besides, I can’t hide it forever.” He held up a large black fur coat. “I had this made for you in Fendale. I saved some of the wolf hides and had a tailor make this.”
Whill inspected the fine coat. It was black as a moonless night and so long it would fall to his knees. Around the waist was a long strip of leather for a belt, and there were large silver buttons down the front.
“Thank you, Abram! It is a fine gift.” He put the coat on and buttoned it up. It was very warm and a welcome barrier against the wind.
As the night passed Whill kept true to their course; with the silhouette of the coast to his far left it was hard to veer off. Abram put a hand on his shoulder. “You can handle her for a while, eh? I’m going to catch some sleep.”
“Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”
They had been sailing for nearly sixteen hours and Whill could still see the faint light of the Fendale lighthouse. He was amazed at how far it shone. As he stood at the wheel, hypnotized by the steady crashing of small waves and the endless bobbing of the boat, he thought of the journey ahead. They had ventured the Ky’Dren Mountains before, but that had been years ago, when Whill was just a boy. Still, he knew much of the history of the mountains, and indeed of every land. He and Abram had lived for a time in just about every town, and he had learned many of the traditions and ways of the various peoples. They had stayed in Brindon, Orenden, Bearadon, and even Belldon of the Shierdon kingdom.
Most major towns of Shierdon were built on the edges of Lake Eardon. Lake Eardon was more than 150 miles across, with a large island, Belldon, taking up the middle. Belldon was more of a fortress than a town. In the early days, during the war between the kingdoms, the people of Shierdon could retreat to Belldon and find safe refuge, for no army in the history of Agora had ever overtaken the island fortress. As people settled and spread throughout Agora, there were often wars waged over land as each king fought to increase the size of his own kingdom or take over another. Many times Belldon had saved its people, being virtually inaccessible but by boat.
In those days there were many more than four kingdoms of men. What was now Uthen-Arden had at one time been made up of more than twelve small kingdoms, constantly battling for power. As the years passed and lands were taken by war, two kingdoms rose above the rest, Uthen and Arden. After a bloody war between the two, they finally ended the strife and outlined their borders in the Uthen-Arden Peace Treaty. The kingdom of Uthen spanned from what was now the Isladon border and the existing mountain border of Ky’Dren eastward to the center of the Thendor Plains. The kingdom of Arden extended from the plains border, to the easternmost coast of Agora. Beyond the Elgar Mountains, including what was now called Elladrindellia.
The two kingdoms lived in peace for nearly four hundred years until war broke out between them once again. The great war of Uthen-Arden raged for more than thirty years, during which time children were born to both kings: Adolas, son of the king of Arden and heir to the throne, and Bryella, daughter of the king of Uthen, an old man who had yet failed to produce a son of his own. In the midst of the war, a secret love affair arose between Adolas and Bryella, and it happened that when both kings fell in battle on the Thendor Plains, Adolas became king of Arden. Shortly after he called an end to the war and took Bryella as his queen, combining the two great kingdoms into one, now called Uthen-Arden, though many referred to it simply as Arden.
Isladon had established itself long before the wars of Uthen-Arden. The borders that existed now along the Ebony Mountains and down to the coast were made years before either great kingdom came to power. Though many attempts had been made to overtake Isladon, none had succeeded.
Eldalon was the oldest and possibly strongest of the four kingdoms of men. This was mostly due to the mountain borders and the Ky’Dren Pass, against which many armies had marched and been defeated. Unlike all other kingdoms, Eldalon maintained an alliance with the dwarves. According to legend, this amiable relationship dated back to the time when the king of Eldalon gave the great mountains back to the Dwarves after it had been taken by what was at the time the kingdom of Gothneck. The mines of the Ky’Dren were rich with gold and diamonds, and the dwarves thought a man who would give back such a treasure must be of the most noble kind. They never forgot Eldalon’s kindness and fought alongside it every time the Ky’Dren Pass was challenged.
Whill looked forward to meeting the Ky’Dren dwarves, but more so he looked forward to finding out what secrets of his their deep chambers and vaults possessed. As he went over the long history of Agora in his mind, he wondered if there was indeed a possibility that it would ever fall to the Draggard. After all, the beasts had conquered the elves of Drindellia. True, the armies of Agora were strong, and the navies stronger still. But the elves had powers that humans did not, and if they could be defeated by the Draggard, then what chance did humans have?
Though the sky was clear and the night was calm, Whill was troubled. Suddenly he heard a loud banging noise that jolted him from his trance. Abram appeared from below the deck, swearing loudly and rubbing his head. Whill laughed. “You all right, old man?”
“The damned ceiling down there was made for a dwarf. I swear, if it were any lower I would have to crawl around like a fragging dog.”
“Well, Mr. Brightside, at least you’ve still a head to hit things on. It’s got to be the hardest head this side of the Thendor Plains,” Whill said, mocking Abram’s voice, which he happened to be very good at.
“Very funny.” Abram checked his fingers for blood.
“If you like I could try to find you an iceberg to bring down the swelling.”
Abram chuckled. “Alright, jester, why don’t you get some rest. I’ll take over for the rest of the night.”
Whill gave Abram a pat on the back as he took over the wheel. He then went down the six large steps to the sleeping quarters. He crossed the dark room with his arms outstretched. Suddenly he banged his head on a low beam. A flash of light appeared before his eyes and he became dizzy. Sharp pain shot from his throbbing forehead. He heard Abram burst into a fit of laughter above.
“Look out for that beam! My father always said what comes around goes around. You all right, boy?”
“Never better,” Whill grumbled as he found the cot. “Good night.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Wake up, Whill, we have trouble!”
Abram shook Whill out of his quiet and dreamless sleep. He sat straight up in the cot, alert and ready. “What is it?”
“Come above.” Abram started for the steps.
Whill followed Abram to the deck and looked at the sails and then the ocean with wonder. “What’s wrong?”
Abram pointed to the rear of the ship. “There.”
Whill followed Abram’s finger toward the horizon. With the morning sun just rising in the east, it was not hard to see the faint dot. “A ship, I presume?”
Abram nodded, troubled. “I noticed it not an hour ago. Whoever they are, they have been following our course steady, and they’re gaining.”
“Pirates!” Whill spat over the side of the boat.
“Yes. Followed us from Fendale, I imagine.” He slammed his hand down hard on the rail. “Damn, but I am a fool. We are not prepared for this.”
“Can we outrun them?” Whill asked.
Abram answered bluntly. “No. This ship is no match to theirs.” He paused. “We could sail toward shore and try to make land in time.” He pointed toward the distant shore, which was nothing more than a phantom beyond the fog.
