Whill of Agora Trilogy: Book 01 - Whill of Agora (7 page)

For five long months the elves sailed ever westward until they reached Agora. They landed on the easternmost coast of Uthen-Arden, and made contact with the people of Opalmist. Soon the ruler of Arden at that time, King Thoerolus, heard of the refugees and went personally to see them. Whill knew many songs in both human and elven tongues that spoke of the meeting of the queen of the elves and the good king of Arden. The king agreed to help the elves and he gave the southeastern land the elves called Elladrindellia. Since then the elves had lived there quietly and built great cities the likes of which had never been seen in Agora.

Whill had heard countless stories of the elves from Abram and never tired of them. He longed to meet one some day, but that was not likely since they did not leave their territory often, and humans had been banned from entering without permission long ago by King Thoerolus. Most people regarded the elves with fear, mostly because of their use of what humans called magic. The dwarves particularly despised the elves and blamed them for the appearance of the Draggard in Agora. For two hundred years both men and elves had kept the Draggard at bay. They always came from the east, and were always defeated by the navies of the five kingdoms. But recently the Draggard had been attacking from all sides of the ocean and had already overtaken the Ebony Mountains, making them their own. This only infuriated the dwarves more, intensifying their distrust for the elves.

Whill thought of the stories of the elves and wondered if he should indeed become a knight of Eldalon. Abram had told him of the war that would come, and suspected that Abram would expect him to become a soldier. Whill headed back towards the city as the sun climbed higher in the sky. He didn’t want to be late for his meeting with Freston.

He entered the city and rode to the shipbuilder’s house. Abram was already there, and they soon continued the plans for the ship. Freston calculated what it would all cost to build and added roughly 320 hours of labor for each of his three sons. That brought the total to 32 gold coins, hardly one percent of Whill’s fortune.

That night Whill and Abram enjoyed a hearty dinner, and afterwards visited the Wet Whistle again. For hours they listened to Barlemew tell his tall tails of dragon attacks and mermaids.

The next day Whill awoke to find a light rain falling on Fendale. From the grey sky thin sheets of mist lazily fell to the earth. Whill was unsure of the time because the sun failed to shine through the thick clouds. He guessed it was only a couple hours past dawn. He got up and stretched with a great yawn and was about to begin washing when he saw a note on the small table.

Whill
,

I’ve gone to take care of some small business.

I’ll be back after dusk.

Abram

Whill wondered what business Abram was tending to. He was a little disappointed that Abram would not be at the docks, for today the building began on his ship. He finished washing and dressed. After a small breakfast of fresh pastries and coffee he headed to the Fendale Bank on horseback and withdrew enough gold to pay Freston for the ship in advance and to buy Abram a gift. After putting the gold in his saddlebags, he headed for Freston’s house. As he made his way down Fendale’s main street, he felt as though he was being watched. Since the tournament, many people now pointed at him as he rode or walked by. Some children asked for his signature, and he gave rise to many hushed whispers wherever he went. But this was not the feeling of adoring fans watching him. It was more like the feeling he had had in the woods before the wolf attack.

He stopped his horse in the street and looked around. Rain fell softly on the cobblestone street. A woman shook a rug from a second-story window. The street was fairly quiet; only a small crowd moved about. Three children hurried after two women. Men on horseback rode by, talking loudly, and a kid pulling a wheel cart ran past. The strange feeling did not ebb as Whill searched for its source. He began to ride again, slightly faster now. The feeling followed him all the way to Freston’s door.

Once inside, he peered through the small window on the front door. A lone horseman slowly rode by, coming from the same direction that Whill had. He could not determine whether the man had been following him, though, for he looked straight ahead and showed no interest in the house.

“Are you ready to begin work on your beauty?”

Whill jumped. The old man looked at him oddly. “Are you alright, Whill?”

“Uh, yeah, fine, a little jumpy. I brought payment for the ship.” He handed over a bag of gold coins. “That is the agreed-upon amount.”

Freston’s eyes grew wide as he felt the weight of the gold. “You know, you could have just transferred the gold from your vault to mine at the bank.”

Whill felt like an idiot. “I’m sorry, it didn’t cross my mind. I should have assumed that a man such as you would have his own vault. Now I feel like a genuine ass.”

“No matter,” assured Freston. “But you shouldn’t travel the city with so much gold. There isn’t a person in Fendale who doesn’t know about your victory, or your generosity. You have become a target of bandits and thieves already, I’m sure. But they will not be bold enough to try to rob you here in the city. They will wait until you set sail.”

“I could just leave the money here in Fendale.”

“That you could, but they will assume you have the gold on you anyway. Your best bet is to trade the gold for jewels, which are much easier to carry and less difficult to conceal. As for setting sail, I would ask for a naval escort if I were you.”

Whill pondered the situation. “Maybe you’re right. Would Lord Rogus grant such an escort?”

“He could spare at least one ship, I’m sure. Don’t worry yourself about it. Abram has been through worse than a pirate raid. I’m sure he is prepared for such things.” Freston smiled reassuringly. “Now let’s see how my boys are coming with the frame.”

Whill followed Freston the short distance to the dock entrance. There were many ways to get to the docks; at least twenty passages led from different parts of the city down into the great cave. They headed down a wide spiral stairway lit with large torches mounted every few feet. As they descended, Whill’s excitement increased. He had of course read about the great cave harbor of Fendale, and had even seen elaborate drawings of it in many books. Now he was having his own ship built there. They reached the end of the stairway, and Whill beheld the great harbor.

The cave was bigger than Whill had envisioned—at least a half a mile across, as far as he could tell. Its ceiling was more than one hundred feet high in some places. Light from the sun, along with the ocean waters, came in through four great gates carved out of the cave wall and was reflected off of the cave’s shiny surface. From the back wall to the gates he guessed was a distance of about one thousand feet. It was hard to believe that above them sat the great city of Fendale. Within the immense cave there were over one hundred ships docked. The harbor was abuzz with movement. There were fisherman unloading their latest catch from giant nets, and merchants loading their cargo for distant cities of Agora. Others unloaded cargo that had been imported to the city: men carried large bags of grain and wheat, while others hauled large barrels from the decks.

Whill was in awe. He followed Freston to where his ship was being built, and noticed a large section of the dock that was for use only by the royal navy. Great warships the likes of which he had only seen in books loomed overhead. They were massive, nearly three hundred feet long. From some came soldiers in full armor down large ramps, while on others soldiers were boarding, off to spend a few months patrolling the great ocean. It was a very emotional sight. The returning soldiers were greeted by their loved ones with open arms and many hugs and kisses, while the departing soldiers endured the tears of theirs. Women and children waved and blew kisses as one of the ships was launched with a great many large oars protruding from its lower sides. Freston stopped and bowed his head as the women began the farewell song. Taking his lead, Whill did the same as the voices of the women rose to the ceiling and echoed throughout the vast harbor.

Goodbye, my love, till your ship returns

To the city of light, where the elven torch burns.

May the ocean be kind, may the wind catch your sail

May the stars guide true, and may your vessel not fail.

As the light from the sun rises each day

In my heart you will dwell, and forever stay.

Though foe you may find, and fell they may be
,

You will vanquish each threat, you are kings of the sea.

If darkness doth find you, and find you it may
,

Think of the clear light that shines night and day.

I’ll wait for you here till your ship returns

To the city of light, where the elven torch burns.

The song ended as the ship left the cave and entered the open sea. Freston raised his head with watery eyes. “My father was a soldier for the royal navy. I was only ten when my mother and I sang that very song. I was forty when my wife sang it for my eldest son.” He gave the women a nod and smile as they walked by, some with children, some without. “Their ships never returned. My father’s nor my son’s.”

He started for the building site. Whill followed, not quite knowing what to say. His mood had been greatly dampened by the sight of the leaving ship, and by the song. “This city has lost many men to the sea, be they fisherman or soldiers,” Freston said. “Dragons, pirates, storms, and the Draggard wars are a constant threat to all who venture over the great waters. Every month one or more ships do not return, and lately that number has doubled. There is a need for more and more soldiers to hold the eastern borders of Agora. Ships that used to be gone for only weeks are now on duty for months. There is hardly anyone in this great city who has not known loss to the ocean. Yet we love it still. And we will remain people of the blue waters until the day they overtake this land.”

Whill looked at the old man as he spoke and saw him as he had not before. Within his weathered face and pale blue eyes he now saw a quiet sadness.

“I never knew my father,” Whill said. “All I know of him is that he died when I was just an infant. I sympathize with your great loss and hope that none other befalls you.”

“Tragedy is a storm we all must weather, my friend. To let it break you is the worst tragedy of all. Instead we stand tall in defiance and wear a smile when all reason for smiling has left us. Let this great vessel of yours be a symbol of your defiance of your own tragedy, and let us take joy in it.”

Whill wondered if Abram had gotten his optimism from living in Fendale. He was never discouraged by anything, a virtue he had instilled in Whill at an early age and for which Whill was now thankful. Without such a way of thinking, he could have easily become a very different man.

“Ah, here we are.” They had finally reached the building platform. Three men were busy at work on the frame of what would become Whill’s ship. Freston put two fingers to his mouth and gave a loud whistle. The men stopped what they were doing and greeted their father.

“Come here, boys. I’d like you to meet a friend.” The men put down their tools and joined Whill and Freston on the walking platform. Whill extended a hand and shook with each of them in turn.

“Aye, Kellis is the name. Nice to meet you,” said the first and biggest of the three men. He wore brown pants and boots with a white shirt cut off at the sleeves. His long brown hair was pulled into a tail to keep it away as he worked. A thick brown beard covered his jolly face, and his father’s eyes, as bright as his smile, peered at Whill above a proud nose.

“Name’s Trellen,” said the second man. He was dressed like his brother with the exception of a black shirt. His hair was brown like Kellis’s, but it hung in curly clumps about his face. His smile was like his father’s also, though his face was clean-shaven.

“Nice to meet you, Whill. I’m Leukas,” said the third and youngest man. He wore white pants that had been soiled with sawdust; his shirt was blue and long at the sleeves. His hair was long like his brothers’, but blond rather than brown, and it was pulled back like Kellis’s. He wore a goatee and long thin sideburns. He was the best-looking of the three, with a well-defined jaw and sharp features.

“So, boys, how goes it?” Freston asked, eyeing the frame of the ship.

“It’s going as well as it can. We’re actually ahead of schedule,” said Trellen with a proud smile.

Whill looked with great pride at the one-hundred-foot-long skeleton that would become his ship. He could hardly wait until the day they launched.

“You gentlemen mind a little help?” Whill asked, ready to get his hands dirty.

“The more help the better,” answered Leukas.

Kellis put a hand on Whill’s shoulder. “It’s good to see a man with money who is still eager to work.”

Together the five of them went to work. Whill enjoyed the company of Freston’s sons and was eager to learn all he could about the building process. He asked many questions, which the men were happy to answer. He was impressed by their passion for building. Even Freston, who had been building all his life, still went at the project with great enthusiasm. As the sun set over the ocean they called it a day and agreed to start again at first light.

Whill left the dock feeling excited and energetic, eager to tell Abram all he had learned. But first he rode to one of the many blacksmiths in the city and bought a full set of armor for Abram. Whill felt that since he had won his own beautiful armor on account of Abram, it was only fair that the man have his own. He paid the blacksmith, and with the armor in a large bag he headed for Ocean Mist. As he rode down the main street to their lodgings, he suddenly felt the eyes again. Trying to ignore it, he rode on, looking straight ahead. He wasn’t as perceptive as Abram, but he could not shake the intense feeling of being watched. He abruptly stopped his horse and jerked his head to look behind him, but no one was there. No one peered at him from the rooftops of the large buildings that surrounded him, either. This part of the street was fairly empty, but for the occasional horseman or guard. Indeed, no one looked at all threatening or took any apparent interest in him.