A Crown Of War (Book 4) (33 page)

Dirk
reached for Krentz, who seemed no more than a shadow by then. She had come dangerously close to being absorbed by the lich lord.

“
Back to the spirit world, my love,” he whispered, and her spirit returned to the trinket in his pocket.

Whill
stared down at him. All around them, the undead had stopped in their tracks, a dim, green light glowing in their eyes. With their handler dead, they did nothing, having no mind of their own. Whill scowled at Dirk. “You,’ he said accusingly.

Whill grabbed Dirk by the throat and lifted him off his feet. Dirk’s good hand clutched Whill’s firm grip, and the assassin’s words choked out along with his breath. Whill shook with rage and threw him to the ground once more. He held the tip of Adromida to Dirk’s chin, as the assassin coughed and tried to find his voice.

“
Go ahead,” he finally said. “I had no choice in the matter, he would have killed her.”

Whill
told himself not to listen to him; he was a trickster, a weaver of lies. The assassin was just trying to save his own hide.

“
Who is
he
?” he asked, keeping the blade where it was.

“
Eadon,” said Dirk, rubbing his throat. “He held my woman hostage.”

“
When did you come into Eadon’s employment?”

“
Before the fight in the arena, I was captured snooping around the castle where she was being kept hostage. Had I not made the deal to spy on you, he would have killed her. What was I to do? You were a stranger to me at the time.”

Whill
didn’t want to believe him, but he recognized enough truth in his eyes to lower his sword.

“
Why are you here?”

Dirk
stood hesitantly, dusted himself off, and showed his empty hands. “Krentz and I came here with one General Reeves of the Eldalonian army. We met up in southern Eldalon and helped a band of refugees to the Ky’Dren Pass. He is here somewhere to back up my story, unless he has been killed. Would be a shame really, good man that one.”

“
Why did you help me against the necromancer?” Whill asked.

“
She tried to kill a friend of mine. I took it personally.”

Whill
eyed Dirk for a long while. After a time, he turned his attentions to the smoldering battlefield. The sun was beginning its descent, and nighttime would be upon them in only a few hours. His mind drifted from Dirk easily; he didn’t care about the man’s motives. Soon, he would have to face Eadon. Such trivial things as the assassin seemed to not matter. He turned back on Dirk; the assassin had not moved a muscle while his back had been turned. Whill could not trust the man, and should have killed him where he stood. However, he could not kill a man in cold blood, not this one, at least. Dirk had betrayed him, but he had also possibly saved him from the necromancer.

Whill
remained shaken by that experience. The dark elf had gone through his shield too easily. He had no idea how to fight against such dark magic. He realized once again how helpless he still was against some of the powers of the elves. Though he possessed one of the most concentrated sources of power in Agora, he did not possess the invaluable experience that came with time, nor did he possess the wisdom. He had crammed the knowledge of the Elven Tomes into his mind, but he had never performed most of the spells, and had not the privilege of learning from his failures as he went. He was a freak of nature and magic as well; the bastard child of a prophecy gone awry.

“
I do not trust you…cannot,” said Whill. “Neither can I kill you.”

“
I ain’t for thinkin’ you be killin’ this one. Hell o’ a fighter,” said Raene, walking toward them from the battleground.

The
undead led by Veolindra had fallen, or continued to stand in place, absently staring into the distance. Groups of dwarves traversing the pass eagerly sent the soldier’s souls on their way. Raene walked toward them, taking the time to crack two of the undead soldier’s skulls. The second one she spent a good deal of time on, and when she finally stood before Whill and Dirk, she was covered in blood and gore.

“
Where the elven lady go to?” she asked as she absently wiped her bloody hand on her armor.

Whill
remembered seeing a dark-haired elven woman conjuring the whirlwind and then later fighting with the necromancer, but, by the time he recovered from the dark elf’s strange attack, she had disappeared.

“
She is recovering,” Dirk told her quickly.

“
Aye,” said Raene. “As we all be. Was a right bloody battle, eh? The men be sayin’ different, but if you hadn’t arrived, the Pass might have fallen,” she told Whill.

Raene
slammed her fist to her chest and offered her hand in the human greeting, Whill shook it. “Name’s Raene, daughter o’ King Ky’Ell o’ the Mountains Ky’Dren.”

“
Whill…Warcrown,” he said with a nod as they shook. “Well met.”

“
Well met, indeed. I be knowin’ who you be. Not a year ago, you met with me pa in Dy’Kore, eh? He told us all bout ye, says ye be a good friend o’ Roakore o’ the Mountains Ro’Sar.”

“
That I am.”

“
Where he be at?” she asked, looking around. “From what we be hearin’ as o’ late, you two be thicker than the fur on a snow goat.”

“
He has been captured by Eadon, he and friends of mine,” said Whill.

“
Captured!” Raene repeated, shocked. “Then best we be goin to get him!”

“
You ain’t goin’ nowhere, young lady!” Ky’Ell yelled as he approached on his war goat.

The
king dismounted deftly and landed sure footed on the scorched ground before her. His gaze moved from her and fell upon Dirk. “I thought I be tellin’ you to mind she be keepinʼ put.”

Raene
stepped forward with a grave expression on her usually rosy-cheeked face.

“
Pa, me King,” she bowed and tears found her eyes. “Me brother, Ky’Ro, fell, he be dead.”

Ky
’Ell closed his eyes and began to shake.

“
I found the body. How did it happen?” he asked in a shaking voice of barely controlled rage.

“
A dark elf, you killed him when you threw the big slab o’ stone on his head.”

Ky
’Ell’s eyes went wide and shot in the direction she meant. His gaze turned back on his daughter and his already angry face turned to a snarl. “He still lives; the stone slab has been moved. Saw it when I went to Ky’Ro’s body. No dark elf lay dead under the stone.”

“
Then we will track him down.” Raene said with a patting hand on her father’s shoulder.

Ky
’Ell flung off her hand. “I done told you to keep put. Be a direct order from your King you disobeyed, be it not?”

“
Pa-”

“
Be it not?”

“
Yes, me King.”

“
If you woulda done what I told, then we woulda been alerted to the dark elf gettin’ away!”

“
Yes, me King.”

The
King raised his calloused hand to slap her.

“
Ky’Ell!” Whill yelled.

Ky
’Ell turned on Whill with murder in his eyes. “This be a family matter, mind your tongue, and your business.”

He turned back on Raene.
“Get your arse back to southern Ky’Dren, and report to your mother. ʽBout time you be gettin’ a husband and start actin’ like a gods damned woman!”

“
Pa…” she begged.

Ky
’Ell slapped her so hard that she fell to one knee.

“
Now!” he screamed.

Without
another word, Raene got up and left them for the tunnels to the south.

“
I got other things to be tendin’ to,” he said to Whill. “I wish you to remain to sup at least. We’ve much to discuss.”

Whill
nodded, having lost some respect for the dwarf.

“
You too, man in black. The help o’ your elf friend is much appreciated. You both be named dwarf friend in Ky’Dren,” he told Dirk.

“
Honored,” Dirk said with a nod.

The
king mounted his war goat and charged off to the east, and Whill turned on Dirk.

“
What are you playing at?”

“
Sorry?” said Dirk.

“
First you are a prisoner of Eadon, then his spy, and now what? You work for the dwarves? If Roakore ever sees you again, he will likely kill you, just on principle.”

Dirk
laughed. “Indeed, he would, he proved quite successful the first time around.”

“
So what is your game?” Whill pressed.

Dirk
’s eyes searched the ground in retrospect; Whill thought he was either acting, or truly looking inside himself for the answer. Dirk seemed to notice his broken arm again for the first time, hanging limply at his side and turned at an awkward angle.

“
You mind?” he asked Whill.

“
Yes,” he replied.

Dirk
’s brow raised and his face said,
I don’t blame you.
He sighed and produced the timber wolf figurine. “I’m not sure how it works. But, I don’t think it is the magic of dark elves. The trinket is a link to the spirit world. From it, I can summon the spirit of a timber wolf of Volnoss. I suspect the relic is barbarian make.”

“
Humans have no magic,” said Whill.

“
Perhaps we do.
You
do,” Dirk retorted. “The barbarians have witch doctors. Perhaps there is some magic about them after all.”

Whill
shrugged.

“
Anyhow. My woman, Krentz, swore fealty to Eadon. I tried to trap her in the trinket until I could figure out a way to break the vow without killing her.”

“
And?”

“
And she died when pulled into the trinket by the wolf. She is now like he, a spirit who can conjure her physical form.”

“
Why did she swear fealty to Eadon?” Whill asked.

“
She did it on a trade. My vow for hers.”

“
And you only made your vow to save her in the first place?”

“
Correct, but it seems she didn’t want saving,” said Dirk.

Whill
thought about his story. Dirk had taken a bit of a risk admitting his woman had become essentially an undead, or lich, or whatever she might be now. Whill could take the trinket from him at any time; they both knew it.

“
Show me,” he found himself saying.

Dirk
sucked in air between his teeth. His face said
I don’t know.

“
The wolf was nearly absorbed by the lich, I dare not summon him as of yet.”

“
And the woman?”

“
Krentz needs to recuperate as well. She can hold her own against any, but it seems these necromancers can inflict real damage to spirits.”

Whill
believed him; the warning voices in his head had begun to fade. However, he still didn’t think Dirk told him the whole truth.

“
Why did Eadon kidnap her in the first place?”

Dirk
held his gaze. “He caught wind of my reputation, wanted me to work for him.”

“
Why not just force you?”

“
You’ve met the elf; he likes willing servants over mindless slaves.”

True,
but Whill remained unsatisfied.

“
If he wanted you so badly, why would he trade your fealty for hers?”

Dirk
said nothing, as if he had wondered that very thing. “He is a great deceiver. I cannot begin to understand his motives in anything. Perhaps he thought he could keep me snared, dangle her over my head to keep me in line. He sent a dark elf after me after releasing me. I believe he meant to rein me back in.”

Whill
smelled a rat. He didn’t invade Dirk’s mind for his answers, but he listened intently for Dirk’s projected thoughts.

S
ilence.

Either
the assassin had a great amount of control, he felt guilty about nothing, or he told the truth.

Sensing
what Whill was doing, Dirk stretched out his good hand. “Go ahead, read my mind if it will get us anywhere faster.”

“
Who is she?” Whill asked.

“
I don’t trust you any more than you trust me,” Dirk answered.

“
Then you have something to hide, or rather, she does?”

“
Don’t we all?” Dirk countered, not backing down.

Tension
filled the silence as they both stared at one another. Finally, Whill reached out his right hand. Dirk didn’t flinch. Whill nodded to his broken arm, and Dirk hesitantly walked toward him. Placing his hand on Dirk’s broken arm, he surrounded it with blue healing energy. He delved into the wound with his mind sight, healing torn tendon and muscle, and setting the bone in place with a force of will. He touched upon an energy coursing through the assassin’s body and armor. The wound had already begun to heal itself, and Whill followed the energy flow to a gem set in Dirk’s chest. Elven magic was at work inside him.