Whill of Agora

any other on earth. So answer me this, Parpous, why do you lie to my face, and why do your men tense their sword arms at the sound of the truth?”

Parpous chuckled, and his cronies followed suit. The big man clapped his hands together. “Rhunis, my friend, you are a clever one, but I assure you, the old man gave over this bar to me and I am now the owner. And I intend on keeping it that way.” He leaned closer also and his smile faded. “What do you say to that, friend?”

Rhunis breathed deep as he leaned his head back. “I say you let the old man loose from the basement, give him back his pub, and never bother him again.”

Parpous flinched at the mention of the basement. “May I remind you that I have dealings with the king?”

“And need I remind you that I do as well? Dealings with the king! You are talking to one of his commanders. And by the king I order you to do as I’ve said, or you will pay dearly.”

Parpous’s nostrils flared. “Is that a threat?”

“Not really, but how does this suit you?” Rhunis stood and planted his white knuckles on the table. “If you do not do as I say, I will cut your arm off and beat you with it!”

Roakore chuckled. An instant later the room erupted. Parpous thrust a dagger at Rhunis, but before the blade connected Rhunis grabbed his arm and twisted it violently. Roakore took hold of the table with his powerful hands and sent it crashing into the seated entourage. Though Parpous hadonly shown up with twelve, it seemed that many of his men were in the bar as well. They attacked the companions from all sides, some with fists, others with a blade. Whether they were ignorant of a dwarf’s strength or simply stupid, they soon discovered the truth. Roakore sent man after man flying as he laid into them with his powerful punches. Those that attacked him did not soon get up, if they got up at all.

The elves too made short work of those before them with their strange dance of kicks, dodges, and punches. Whill and Abram fought side by side and tried to keep up with the three. All the while Rhunis and Parpous exchanged blows until finally Rhunis bested the man and sent him crashing to the floor, his nose and jaw apparently broken. The crowd hardly noticed until a howl split the room and everyone stopped.

Rhunis, true to his word, had chopped off Parpous’s arm with his sword, and was now beating the man mercilessly. Parpous’s men froze.

“Call off your cronies or I’ll kill you where you lie!”

Parpous spoke through broken teeth. “Do as he says!”

Everyone watched as Rhunis raised the man off the floor and shoved the severed arm back into the socket. He motioned to Avriel. Parpous whimpered with pain. “Now listen closely friend,” Rhunis said. “You have a choice: keep this bar for your own and I shall feed your arm to the dogs, or you keep your arm and give the pub back to Harlod. Which will it be?”

“My arm,” Parpous said, almost inaudibly.

“What was that?”

“My damned arm!”

“Very well.” Rhunis turned to Avriel. “Heal it, my lady.”

Avriel took hold of the bloody arm, paused to ensure that it was set right, and then closed her eyes. Blue tendrils of healing energy burst forth from her hands and wrapped themselves around the wound. After a moment it was over, and both Avriel and Rhunis let go of the man.

Parpous eyed his arm with wonder, as did all in attendance. The crowd gasped and cursed in awe. Rhunis pointed at Parpous. “On your honor, if you have any left in you, and on that of your men, you must now swear to leave Harlod alone, to never bother him again as long as you live, nor any of us, for that matter. You will go about your days happy you did not die here tonight, and if you seek any form of revenge, you will pay with your souls.” He looked at Avriel. “Curse them with rotting disease should they break their oath.”

Avriel suppressed a smile and raised her arms to the heavens. “Olda thenn hendo drelancer hilgo dor!”

Palpous and his men all stared wide-eyed at Avriel. Rhunis broke the spell. “Now swear it on your lives!”

“I swear, I swear!” Said the fearful men.

“Now get out of here!” Rhunis ordered.

As the men scurried for their lives, Roakore burst into laughter. “Heh! This man knows how to party! What pub we goin’ to next?”

Just as Avriel and Zerafin had sensed, Harlod was found bound and gagged in the basement. Rhunis released him and brought the weakened man upstairs. His grey hair was caked with blood, his clothes tattered, and his body too thin. Rhunis called to the barmaid. “Fetch some hot tea, please. And heat up some stew.”

Avriel was already tending to the old man. Blue tendrils of energy mended his many wounds and gave the old man the strength he would need. His eyes cleared and his grimace turned into an amazed smile. “Tell me I have died and gone to the heavens. An elf maiden here, in my pub!” His eyes fell upon the companions and Rhunis. “Rhunis, my old friend! Such company you keep. Elves, dwarves-tell me I am dreaming,”

“No, my friend, this is no dream. How do you feel?”

“Twenty years younger.” He looked around the trashed pub. “Now what in the blazes happened here?”

Whill woke from a dreamless sleep, the morning breeze from the open balcony door caressing his cheek. The air was cool but welcome, for it soothed his slight headache. Tarren stood within the balcony archway, staring out onto the courtyard. Whill watched him for a few minutes and decided that the boy probably had been there for some time and would not move any time soon. Whill rose from bed and pulled on his pants. He tried to make a bit of noise as not to startle Tarren when he approached him.

“Beautiful morning, it is not? Good day for sailing.”

He hoped that Tarren had not folded himself into an inner shell of despair and self-pity. If his spirit had been broken, he would no longer laugh, no longer speak so jubilantly, would no longer see any good in the world. Whill had seen it before, in men and in women, and in children. But his fears were put to rest when Tarren looked up and nodded. He did not speak, he did not smile, but this small acknowledgment was enough to tell Whill that he would be alright. He would cry, he would lose himself to despair time and again, he would curse the heavens. But he would not let the cruelty of the world defeat him.

Whill smiled to himself and put a hand upon Tarren’s shoulder. For a long time they watched from their perch as the courtyard bustled with activity. To the west were many soldiers, marching, sparring, and practicing archery. At last Tarren spoke.

“I want to learn how to fight.”

“And you will, Tarren. You are now officially part of the royal family of Eldalon, be it as it may, you will be taught a great many things. You will become both a scholar and a fighter. But all in good time.

Tarren looked up into Whill’s eyes. “I want to start my training today.”

Whill met his gaze. He understood, and he nodded.

Whill honored Tarren’s wishes and let him begin his training. He then met Zerafin in the garden once more for his own training. He found the elf in the meditative pose he’d used the day before. Whill copied his pose and let himself fall into a state of relaxation. For more than fifteen minutes he meditated, awaiting Zerafin’s instruction.

Open your eyes, Whill.

Whill looked around but saw no one, only the lush, empty garden. Zerafin was gone.

All living things are made of energy, from the frog to the squirrel, from the flower to you and I. Today your training is to pinpoint my location.

“How do I…?” But Zerafin did not answer. Five minutes came and went. “How do I…?” he said louder.

You start by keeping quiet. I am addressing you through your mind. If you wish, I can hear you as well. Simply think what you wish to say, and focus on me…project.

Whill closed his eyes and thought of Zerafin. How do I…?

Much better. To find me you must first decipher the beings around you. Close your eyes and focus on the energy that flows within and around yourself. See with your mind.

Whill did as he was told and imagined that he could see the energy around him. For more than ten minutes he could decipher no more than the blackness beyond his eyelids. Then he saw something.