A Crown Of War (Book 4) (19 page)

Whill
had never seen Roakore like this. Sure, the temperamental dwarf had his moods, but detached resignation had never been one of them. Whill could feel Roakore’s emotions emanating from him, so powerful were they that he could not help but sense them. The more Whill wielded the ancient elven blade, the more in tune they had become. As a result of the constant connection, his senses had been quite keen as of late. Had he not been so tested by the Other, he didn’t think that he would be able to control all of the strange new sensations that bombarded him. He felt Roakore’s anger, his fear, and his resolve; Whill knew then that his mind would not be changed.

“
I don’t know if I can do this without you, Roakore,” Whill told him.

It
was Roakore’s turn to pat a shoulder. “Bah, Laddie, ye done grown into a powerful warrior this last year from that whinny bitch I met atop Ky’Dren Mountain.”

Whill
could not help but laugh, and, though Roakore fought it hard, he too erupted into rolling laughter. Their laughter became contagious to one another, and, soon, they were leaning on each other, holding their sore sides. Whill was overcome then by fear at the thought of going forward without Roakore. Their laughter ebbed, and a smart silence filled the great hall.

Again
, Roakore gave Whill a pat on the back and a brotherly hug. With a sniff and a nod, he quickly looked away. “You be doing just fine, Laddie. You be a god among men with that blade,” said Roakore, and looked to him once more. “Mind what kind o’ god ye become.”

Roakore
turned on his heel and marched through the great hall. Whill meant to say something to him, but ʽgood luckʼ sounded to cryptic, and ʽfarewellʼ too final.

He
said nothing, and Roakore slipped through the sliver of light at the end of the great hall, and was gone.

Eadon
’s words faded, but the weight of them remained long after. The earthquakes subsided, though no one moved from under cover. They waited and listened, but Eadon’s words came no more. Dirk did not doubt Eadon’s ultimatum had been heard by all of Agora. The dark elf’s power seemed to have no limits. Dirk put Eadon’s every word to memory. The speech spurred many questions in Dirk’s mind: What and where was Felspire, and why was Eadon attempting to lure Whill?

Hours
had passed since the battle by the river, and the wagon train was slowed by the destruction of the bridge. They soon found a narrow expanse to cross, and got back on the road quickly. Even at their slow pace, Orington was less than an hour away.

Scouts
had searched for any sign of Fyrfrost, but to no avail. Chief and Krentz would be able to find the dragon-hawk, but he did not dare summon them yet; he wanted to give them time to recover from the dark elf necromancers’ attack.

Reeves
ordered the wagon train moving again. Slowly, they started out once more northeast. Many of the wagons had been ruined beyond quick repair, and many of the sparse supplies had been destroyed. The refugees were weary, having been on the road the better part of a week. The attack of the dark elves and the raising of their dead had shaken them all. Eadon’s claim of a seven day respite did nothing to quell the mounting despair. Even if the dark elf forces stood down for a week, there was still cold and hunger to deal with.

Dirk
rode ahead with the forward scouts to spy the road to Orington. The clouds had begun to part, but little warmth was gained from the sun which set fast behind them. Judging by the day’s weather, the night would be below freezing. No matter what condition they found the village in, at least shelter would be found. He hoped the rift he had seen outside of Kell-Torey had been the only one. If so, it was possible the dark elf armies had not made their way this far east.

The
forest stood tall and thick in these parts, and the road often ventured beneath heavy bows of everpine trees, creating a tunnel of sorts.
Good place for an ambush
, Dirk reminded himself as he scoured the quiet forest. The thick forest abruptly ended, and he looked out over a wide valley of rolling hills lined with snaking streams and rivers. The waters ventured from the high hills to the east that began the vast expanse of the Ky’Dren Mountains.

Orington
was found intact, its stacked-log walls standing high, and the smoke from hundreds of cottage chimneys hung in the twilight promising warmth. The small city was alight with the glow of lanterns, torches, and scattered bonfires. Dirk noted the watch was out in force; many men stood guard upon the walls, and no doubt the towers were likewise full of watching eyes.

Dirk
raced back and informed Reeves of his discovery. Word spread quickly, and the mood and pace improved dramatically. The last stretch of mile seemed the longest to the hundreds of cold and starving refugees. Together, Reeves and Dirk rode ahead to the city’s western gate, and were met by two Eldalonian soldiers and two members of the city guard. When they noticed the general, the four men stood at attention and saluted their superior.

General
Reeves was the highest ranking member of the Eldalonian army in the city, and therefore, the command was his whilst he remained. The gates opened wide, and the city began to prepare for the influx of refugees. Every inn and tavern on every street was ordered to ready their empty rooms and spare cots, to the annoyance of more than a few innkeepers. Hot tea and bread was brought to the refugees as they continued to pile in, and, after nearly an hour, the city gates swung closed.

Dirk
remained outside when the gates closed; the time had come to summon Chief and Krentz. He rode his borrowed horse back to the edge of the forest from which he had first eyed the city, and drew the wolf carving from his pocket.

“
Come forth, Chief, I summon thee!”

S
ilver mist swirled out of the trinket and solidified into the spirit-wolf Chief. Dirk patted his leg, and Chief strode over to stand at his side. He lifted his chin and accepted a vigorous scratching behind the ears.

“
Now, there’s a good fellow, how you feeling boy?” Dirk asked.

Chief
gave a single bark.

“
What of Krentz, is she ready?”

Again
, Chief barked. Dirk stood and summoned Krentz to his side. To his relief, she solidified before him looking as good as she ever had. She glanced around searchingly, as if expecting trouble to be afoot. When she saw nothing, she turned her gaze to Dirk.

“
What happened?”

“
The dark elves are dead, as is the Draggard horde. The people are safe for the time being in Orington, just west of here,” said Dirk, pointing in the direction of the city. “However, Fyrfrost is lost to me. One of the elves turned out to be a shifter. The last I saw of him, Fyrfrost was fighting an aerial battle. He might have gone down anywhere between here and the bridge.”

“
I will find him,” Krentz assured him.

“
What of you? What were the dark elves doing to the two of you?”

Krentz
gave Chief a scratch on the ribs, and his back leg kicked the air. “They were necromancers,” she said with disgust. “Attempting to take control of our spirits. If you hadn’t dismissed us when you did, I don’t know how much longer we would have lasted.”

“
One of them raised a dozen dead soldiers’” Dirk told her.

“
Yes, they are quite powerful,” Krentz nearly whispered. Her distant gaze told Dirk she was deeply troubled.

“
You’ve told me little of such sorcery.”

“
Had little to tell until now,” said Krentz, looking out over the city of Orington. “Eadon has unleashed his most powerful weapon: the undead.”

“
How does it work?” Dirk asked.

“
That is a long tale, and we’ve precious time to find Fyrfrost if he is injured,” she said abruptly.

“
You are right. Are you sure you’ve recovered? You may need to travel far from the trinket in your search.”

“
I will be fine,” said Krentz as she bent to Chief’s level and petted his head. “We search for Fyrfrost; he may be injured, so we must be swift.”

Chief
barked, and together they turned to mist and flew off in separate directions. Dirk began down the road, leaving the city behind him. He was not sure if he would return. If the dark elf armies came this way, Orington would surely burn. It seemed to matter little now, since Eadon’s ultimatum. In seven days, Whill would be forced to face Eadon. Dirk had little faith that Whill could defeat him. If he had his way, he and Krentz would leave this land forever. Agora was doomed. However, Krentz had a mind of her own on the matter, and she wanted to help in the fight against her father

M
ore than an hour passed before either of them returned to the road. Dirk had not seen any sign of the dragon-hawk, as he had expected. He could only see so far through his enchanted hood, and nowhere did he see any sign of Fyrfrost.

Chief
came flying out of the forest in spirit form. The horse reared, startled, and nearly threw Dirk from his saddle.

“
Whoa, boy, whoa!” he said, calming the beast. “Chief, have you found him?”

Chief
barked and spun in a circle.

“
Lead me to him.”

Chief
leapt into the forest and turned, waiting for Dirk to follow. Dirk knew the horse would only slow him in such dense woods. He tied his mount off on a birch and trailed Chief through the heavy snow.

He
followed Chief for what felt like hours. The going was slow. A lot of snow had fallen in these parts the last few days. Even where there were no drifts, the snow came up to Dirk’s knees. Chief avoided the worst of it however, keeping under the weighted bows that caught much of the snowfall.

Chief
danced a circle and barked as they neared Fyrfrost in a large clearing. Dirk quickened his pace and caught up with Chief. As he got closer, he realized this was not a natural clearing. Many trees had been snapped in half and lay strewn about, while others laid on their sides, their roots having pulled with them large clumps of earth. Beyond the initial destruction, lying on his side amid the felled lumber, was Fyrfrost. Krentz knelt beside him.

Fyrfrost
’s breathing was slow and labored. Blood pooled around him, turning his silver feathers red. Many deep cuts and gashes riddled his still body. One wing lay mangled and broken, splayed out across the snow; the other was simply gone. His left hind leg was broken; jagged bone protruded from his thigh, leaving the leg dangling awkwardly. All along his slowly heaving chest, feathers had been burned away, and the scorch marks from spells marred his once beautiful scales. The gravest injury however, was a thick piece of broken tree branch that had impaled him during the crash landing.

Dirk
walked a slow circle around his mount, his foreboding growing with every injury he found. He turned to face the dying dragon-hawk and saw tired resignation in his large eyes.

“
Can you heal him?” he asked Krentz.

“
Yes, but his injuries are extensive. I was weakened more than I first thought by the dark elves; it will take some time before he is in any condition to fly.”

“
You told me you would be fine,” said Dirk, concerned. He and Krentz didn’t keep things from one another.

F
ollowing his train of thought, she waved a dismissive hand his way. “I said I would be fine, and I shall.”

“
Chief, set a wide perimeter; let none pass through,” said Dirk. Chief whined for Fyrfrost and reluctantly left his side to keep watch.

“
I will collect what deadwood I can find. If the last few nights have been any indication of the weather to come, tonight will be a cold one.”

Krentz
only nodded at him, having already begun her inspection of Fyrfrost’s injuries beyond the surface of his flesh.

Dirk
went to gathering the deadwood. The work was slow and tedious, having to dig through the forest for the frozen branches. The fallen and broken trees around the crash site would come in useful, though they were still green. Krentz could use spell work to force the wood to burn. In an hour’s time, Dirk had procured enough for a fire, and Krentz set the wood ablaze with a spoken word.

“
I am ready to begin,” Krentz announced as she stood from her kneeling position beside the dragon-hawk.

“
First we must remove this branch from his belly. I need you to keep him calm.”

“
Keep him calm?” Dirk laughed. “You are the one who can speak to his mind, and hear his thoughts.”

“
Yes, but he trusts you. I must focus on stopping the bleeding.”

Dirk
went to stand before Fyrfrost’s large head, which, when lying on the ground, came up to Dirk’s shoulder. The dragon-hawk’s breath still came quick and shallow, and his heavy eyes seemed to float at the threshold of death.

“
It’s all right Fyr. Krentz is going to fix you up. But this is going to hurt…a lot,” said Dirk as he stroked Fyrfrost’s long, beak-like snout.

“
He understands your words,” Krentz informed him. “Best you take his mind off of the pain.”

“
Best he knows what’s coming, don’t you think?” Dirk retorted.

“
He will soon enough,” she said as she summoned a ball of healing energy to her palm. Closing her eyes, she began to chant.

Dirk
leaned toward Fyrfrost as if imparting a secret. “Buddy, when this is over, we’re going to go hunting, just you and me. We’ll find us long-stretching fields of green with no end, fat with cattle and deer. Maybe a clear stream of mountain water filled with all the fish you can eat.”

Fyrfrost
’s eyes shot wide open, and he let out a roar of pain.

“
Hold him down!” Krentz hollered over the cries.

“
You’re joking, right?” Dirk yelled, backing away from the thrashing dragon-hawk.

“
Got it!” Krentz cried victoriously, and Fyrfrost let out an ear-piercing roar once again.

The
bloody shaft was tossed to the side as Krentz set to work to staunch the bleeding. Blue healing energy was sent weaving through the air and into the deep wound. Fyrfrost gave one last cry, and his head dropped heavily. His tired eyes found Dirk and closed with a flutter.

“
Did my fearless dragon-hawk just pass out?” Dirk asked with mock disbelief.

Krentz
settled in for a long healing session. She understood far less about the dragon anatomy than she did elves or even humans, and she knew nothing of the anatomy of a dragon-hawk crossbreed. Dirk went about once more gathering wood. By the time midnight came, three separate fires blazed around Fyrfrost. Dragons withstood colder conditions more comfortably than people, but he thought the extra warmth couldn’t hurt. Fyrfrost gave no indication of his preference. The dragon-hawk slept so soundly during Krentz’s spell work, Dirk would have mistaken him for dead if not for the slight wisps of smoke from his nostrils.