“Aye, but they ain’t dwarves, is they, good elf?”
“It is no matter,” Mathus said. “They would have had to plan the creation of another exit tunnel years ago to have it done, and you are correct, Roakore, they are not dwarves. The Draggard are animals and nothing more. They could not accomplish such a task.”
“No, they could not,” Zerafin agreed. “But a very powerful Dark elf could create such a tunnel in a short amount of time.”
Roakore scoffed at that. “Yer saying that elves are better diggers then me kin, that such a task is but a small thing to accomplish?”
“No, no, that is not it at all. I speak only the truth. The Dark elves have power beyond reckoning, and they have no morals to stop them from attaining their power. To them, all is there for them to take. Nothing is safe, nothing is sacred. Imagine if you will a Dark elf with no respect for any other living thing. His only purpose in life is to gain power beyond comprehension. Now imagine that he has a vessel to store that gained power, and a hundred years to collect it. He has the power to melt the very stone you speak of with only a thought, and the resources to see it through. I do not boast of the Dark elves’ power, Roakore. I only speak the truth so we may all realize what we face.”
Roakore looked as though he would speak but then lowered his head, eyes fixed up his calloused hands.
“But if they have not built another tunnel, then Roakore’s plan would work, would it not?” Whill asked.
Avriel smiled at him. “It would.”
“So are we to assume that they have not built a second tunnel?” asked Abram.
Rhunis began to pace around the table. “Whether or not they have built a second tunnel, we are set to storm the beaches in what, one week?” King Mathus nodded. “Then we must go with Roakore’s plan. If we are wrong, then we are back where we were at the beginning. So we will leave it to Roakore and his men to destroy the tunnel. We will engage the Arden forces at the foot of the mountain and do our best to push them back to their borders. If any of the Isladon forces remain there, they will welcome our arrival and bolster our numbers.
“I have sent five different spies to infiltrate Isladon and learn what they may. They shall return within three days. Until then we must go with what we know of the situation and prepare our troops.”
“True enough,” said Mathus. “Then let us put the gears of war in motion, and may the gods smile upon us.”
The following morning Whill and Tarren met Roakore at the docks, where a warship awaited the dwarf for departure to Sherna.
“Aye there!” Roakore called to them. Tarren ran up and gave him a hug. “Alright, alright, then, lad.” He patted the boy’s back. “Ye work hard in yer studies o’ the blade, boy. If ye learn fast enough, there may be a Draggard left for ye to kill. An’ take care o’ Whill,” he added with a wink.
Tarren laughed. “I will, Roakore. Good luck getting your mountain back, too.”
“Bah! Luck’ll have nothin to do with it, lad.”
Whill shook his hand. “It has been a pleasure fighting alongside you, friend.”
“And with you. An’ if this war is anything like them elves think it’ll be there’ll be much more fighting to take pleasure in, me boy.”
“I wish I could be there with you when you retake the mountain. It will be a glorious day.”
“Aye, That it will, lad, that it will.” And with that, Roakore turned and walked the ramp to the ship.
The following days the castle was alive with activity in preparation for the battle. Hundreds of warships had arrived in great numbers and could be seen on the horizon. Whill wondered if Freston was among them, He had sent word to Whill that the ship was complete and would be delivered personally by him and his sons. When the great armada shipped out for war, Whill, Abram, and the elves would leave with it on Whill’s ship. They would sail south with the armada until they reached the coast of Isladon. From there they would break off from the pack and continue south, one hundred miles clear of the coast of Uthen-Arden, and head east and finally north to the shores of Elladrindellia.
Recruitment had already begun for more soldiers into the Eldalon army. Property and gold were promised to any man who agreed to serve four years. This, Whill knew, was a precautionary and perhaps necessary measure taken by the king. Thousands signed up within the first day alone. Rumors had begun to spread like wildfire about the coming war-fragmented tales, mostly ill-informed. But the king and his council knew well enough the dangers of the misinformed masses, and so, one week after Roakore had set sail for Sherna, and two days after word had come that the dwarf armies were already moving out, the king made public the truth of the situation.
Whill stood with Abram at the gates of the castle, where it had been announced that the king himself would be speaking at high noon. Thousands crowded the streets, sat upon rooftops, and hung out of nearby windows to hear. A podium had been erected near the entrance, and all fell silent as King Mathus ascended the steps. Standing five feet above the heads of his people, with the spring sun shining down upon him and a quiet breeze crawling in from the ocean, he addressed the crowd.
“My good people of Eldalon, it is with stubbornly open eyes and a quickened heart that I have pondered the gravity of what I say to you now. Not a day of peaceful sleep have I seen in the last week, and I expect not to know one for some weeks to come. As you all know, or have heard through whispered rumors, King Addakon of Uthen-Arden has waged war upon Isladon. Perhaps not officially, but through his actions he has done so. Word has come from our neighbors in Isladon, over many miles and by the blood of many brave men, of the fate of the kingdom. My friends, the king of Isladon has been killed in battle.”
A gasp swept through the crowd. People cursed Addakon and Uthen-Arden, fists pumped the air, and men spat upon the ground.
“That is not the worst of it. It seems that King Ainamaf has declared allegiance with Uthen-Arden. I have heard it from his own lips.”
Abram turned to Whill and whispered, “He is wise to not mention that Ainamaf is also dead or imprisoned, and is being impersonated by a Dark elf.”
“You think so?” Whill asked dryly.
“With the drums of war waging to the south-with a centuries-old ally being invaded on false grounds and twisted reasoning-with a king who, so out of character, has made allegiance with a tyrant-what, my good people, are we to do?”
Already the crowd was yelling words of war. King Mathus let his voice ring out once again, with more passion than before.
“The terrible truth of it is that we have become cornered. We are the only human kingdom left within Agora that stands between certain destruction and liberation! I hereby declare and rectify that which already has come to pass. As in the days of old, when barbarians thought to overtake this land, and before that when the kingdoms were young and Eldalon fought countless enemies to become the beacon of freedom and prosperity that it is now-I have renewed our alliance with not only the dwarves of Ky’Dren, but all dwarf kingdoms of Agora. Like us, they have been swept up in this mad pursuit of power by King Addakon and the Dark elves of Drindellia.”
The crowd hushed slightly at the mention of the Dark elves.
“Yes, my friends, the legends are true. The Dark elves wish to do to all of Agora that which they did to the good elves of Drindellia. For years they have been attacking our shores, using the Draggard abominations as their puppets. And now it seems they have a new puppet, seduced with the promise of great power: King Addakon. It was he, along with the Dark elves and their Draggard horde, that invaded the Ebony Mountains twenty years ago. And it is he who now with that same horde, and an army of misguided soldiers, has waged war upon Isladon. And he has all the while named Isladon in league with the Draggard.”
The people were speechless in the face of so many revelations. The king allowed a moment for it all to sink in. In the faces of those nearby Whill saw many reactions-anger, fear, sorrow-but no doubt.
“I regret now dearly our inaction those years ago when the Ebony Mountains were invaded. I will bring this regret to the grave, I assure you. What kind of neighbors are we if we stand idly by while our neighbors-human, dwarf, or elf-are slaughtered by the thousands, their homes taken, their lives destroyed, their freedom stripped? What kind of neighbors, indeed. With these thoughts in mind, I have taken the following actions: I have renewed our allegiances with the dwarves, elves, and any human in Agora who believes and acts for our cause. But I leave the final choice to you, the people, for I cannot and should not make such decisions for you.
“So what shall it be? Shall we do nothing, hope that we can ride out this storm of tyranny in the comfort of
