A Crown Of War (Book 4) (8 page)

Veolindra
greeted her at the center of the large dome, and to her utter surprise, the dark elf pulled her down and kissed her on the lips. They remained that way for a long moment in which Aurora’s wide eyes stared at Veolindra’s closed ones. When she released her, the lich lord kept her eyes closed and bit at her bottom lip, savoring the kiss.

“
You have a fire in your soul that is seldom found, Aurora Snowfell,” she said, holding Aurora’s hands in hers.

“
Come, sit, and let us drink.”

She
led Aurora to a heavily cushioned lounging chair and guided her to sit. Her hair spun in a flourish as she went to the liquor cabinet.

“
What is your drink?” she asked as she eyed the contents.

“
The road has been slow and uneventful. I want fire in my stomach.”

Veolindra
hummed hungrily and returned with two small crystal glasses and a dark red bottle. The dark elf poured them each a half glass and raised hers.

“
To the Chieftain of the Seven: together, we shall conquer Northern Agora in the name of our master.”

Aurora
nodded as they clanged glasses. She had asked for fire, and fire she got. The liquor went down like lava, and she did all she could not to choke. The drink was stronger than any of the barbarian spirits, stronger still than any concoctions of the dwarves she had ever had. The drink hit her stomach and spread warmth throughout her body. Veolindra refilled her glass and sat in the large fur-covered chair beside her.

With
a murmured word, a small cage of stone, set upon the low table, came alight with dancing flame. The lich lord sipped her drink and surveyed Aurora’s long form. She was accustomed to being gawked at, but not often by women.

“
What is it called?” Aurora asked, raising the glass.

“
This drink is Kronosh. It is as old as my people.”

“
It is the strongest I have found,” said Aurora, studying her glass in the light.

“
And likely the strongest you will ever find. I would have offered something sweeter, but this seemed to be what you wanted,” said Veolindra. “But enough of spirits; you had asked about my death knights,” she said with a devilish grin.

The
door melted open once again, and a soldier walked inside to stand before them both. He stood, heavily clad in silver plate mail, with a sash of purple over one shoulder. At his hip sat a long, thick sword sheath, and upon his helmet a plume of brilliant silver feathers, that of the silverhawk. He came to attention with a click of the heels and took off his helmet to address his mistress. Aurora expected the same milky white eyes as the lich Azzeal’s; instead she found green, glowing orbs set deep in a sunken face.

“
Mistress,” he said in many voices, one deep and gravely, another unnaturally high but faint, and yet another, cold and menacing.

“
They are much more useful in this form. Not long ago, the soldiers, and then captains and generals, began to ask too many questions. The humans became suspicious, and we would have soon lost control. Lord Eadon saw to the work himself. He is yet a master of arts unknown; his work is marvelous,” said Veolindra. Aurora could only nod, disturbed by necromancy.

“
Does anything of the person they once were survive?” Aurora asked quietly.

“
Sometimes. Depends on how much fire they held in their hearts,” replied Veolindra with a grin. “Their most primal emotions live on, scattered memories. Rarely do they rebel against their bondage, and, when they do, they are made example of.”

“
What is your name?” Aurora asked the death knight.

“
Seven, of ten.”

She
turned from the death knight to Veolindra, confused.

“
Seven of ten. Each of the ten command one thousand. I dictate to the ten, and they down to the others. They will do anything I say. Watch,” she said, and pointed a long black fingernail at the knight’s dagger.

“
General Seven, remove your left glove and stab yourself in the hand.”

Seven
took off his glove, unsheathed his curved dagger, and buried it to the hilt through his hand. He stood unflinching and held out his hand; no blood fell to the ringed carpet at his feet.

“
They feel not pain, they know not fear,” said Veolindra.

“
Leave us!” she ordered Seven.

The
death knight commander saluted Veolindra and left them. Aurora was glad; she was no more comfortable around the death knight than the lich.

Veolindra
seemed to sense her unease. “They take some getting used to.”

“
Indeed,” said Aurora. “Though I am anxious to see them in battle.”

The
lich lord smiled at that. “Soon, my friend.”

Krentz
did what she could for the Eldonians. They had sent their women and children into the heart of the Burning Mountains and built defenses. Krentz laid wards inside the mountain, rather than out, as the dark elves would find any magical workings suspicious. Dirk would have stayed to help them defend, if not for Krentz’s determination to move against her father. She would not be swayed, and Dirk let the argument go.

They
left the next morning and flew north from Eldon Island toward the shores of Eldalon. The wind had picked up throughout the night, and now large waves distorted the waters below. Upon Fyrfrost, they would be all but invisible to anyone below. The channel between Eldon and Eldalon was quiet, with not a fishing boat nor Eldalonian naval vessel to be seen. This did not sit well with Dirk. Emptiness permeated the air, lending a foreboding quality to the blustering wind. The capital city of Kell-Torey had fallen, and the land was without a king. Dirk knew nothing but murder and mayhem awaited him in the kingdom.

“
Do any of Whill’s line survive? Is there an heir to the Eldalonian throne?” he asked Krentz over his shoulder. After a pause, she answered, her voice carrying the weight of sadness.

“
I left none alive,” she said in a low voice.

“
The twins…was it just you three set to the task?” he asked.

“
No. I was set with but one task: the King and his immediate family…I…It is likely the other assassins succeeded,” said Krentz.

“
No, the twins failed. I killed them both. Lord Carlsborough yet lives, or so I left him.”

“
Whill remains the heir, either way,” said Krentz, her voice somehow unaffected by the wind as was Dirk’s. “Unless Lord Carlsborough is of closer relation than the king’s grandson.”

“
He is the late King’s third cousin, or so he says,” Dirk confirmed.

“
Then, your Whill of Agora is heir to two falling kingdoms.”

“
May the Gods pity he who hath the world,” said Dirk reciting an ancient elven proverb. Krentz finished it for him.

“
For he has nothing more to gain, but loss.”

The
coast came into view before the noon sun, and soon, the ground was speeding past below them. The winds from the sea pushed them on for many miles during which Fyrfrost only glided. Dirk had long ago learned to keep his hood tight to his ears, lest the wind pound them deaf. The weather had turned colder since his last long flight. His cloak did much against the chill, but any exposed flesh felt the bite of the wind. Krentz sat behind him and often leaned forward to hold him tight, but she was not a source of heat in her spirit form. She possessed the ability to conjure such an inner warmth, and she would if asked, but Dirk did not want to remind her of her lack of warmth and, therefore, her condition.

“
Fyrfrost tells me of movement ahead,” said Krentz, and Fyrfrost growl-cooed the affirmative.

“
Can’t you teach him to speak?” Dirk asked.

“
With time, but dragon speech at its best is nearly impossible to understand. The massive teeth tend to hamper pronunciation.”

Fyrfrost
turned into a spiraling descent to bring them closer. They were still too far for Dirk to make anything out, even with his enchanted hood.

“
He says there are Draggard ahead.”

“
How many?”

“
Twenty, twenty-five. A dark elf is among them, their handler,” said Krentz.

“
Handler? They usually command hundreds, thousands,” Dirk replied, intrigued.

“
Yes. Either they are on a mission of importance, or there are more dark elves within Agora now.”

Dirk
pondered the situation as the group finally came into view. Fyrfrost’s color-changing feathers would not hide them from the dark elf’s mind sight. He just hoped the elf didn’t use it.

“
They are a small enough group for a bit of practice. Shall we?” he asked over his shoulder. Krentz was not there. She had turned to a wisp and suddenly solidified, straddling his lap. Her hair blew rapidly, leaving them in its shelter. For a moment, only her eyes existed, and then her lips as she kissed him softly, and they were warm. For a fleeting moment, Dirk wondered if she had read his mind, and the moment was gone.

Krentz
dissolved as Fyrfrost flew over the marching group and bathed their flanks in dragon fire. As screams of pain and warning rang out, the attackers banked left to circle around once more. Fireballs erupted from the Draggard ranks, but missed as Fyrfrost turned.

“
Fly high, Fyrfrost. When she gets the caster’s attention, bring me in low,” said Dirk.

The
Draggard began to spread out wide, increasing the target range. No barked orders rang out, however. Krentz once told him the dark elf handlers controlled their groups with but a thought.

At
the southern edge of the group a noticeable disturbance began, and he knew it to be Krentz. From his pocket, he took the wolf figurine and yelled to Fyrfrost. “Fly me around to the left flank, keep well away from the caster, and get the runners.”

Fyrfrost
complied and banked left to the edge of the scattered group. Dirk leapt from the gliding dragon and landed in a roll.

“
Come, Chief, battle awaits,” said Dirk.

Swirling
smoke drifted out of the figurine along with a howl. The nearest Draggard rushed them and soon wished it had disobeyed its master. Chief slammed into it, and, together, they rolled away in a tangle of thrashing claws and snarling maws. Dirk came in faster than the next Draggard’s striking tail. A dart to the eye sent the beast reeling back in agony, and when its hands instinctively flew to its face, Dirk sliced open its belly with his enchanted sword. He sped along to the next, leaving the Draggard’s steaming entrails spilling into its clawed hands.

They
ambushed the group on an open road surrounded by nothing but rolling fields of wheat and corn. The fields had long been harvested and were now brown with the coming of winter. Chief moved through the dried and brittle husks like smoke and solidified upon the back of the Draggard in front of Dirk. He sliced the back of the Draggard’s knees as he passed, and Chief rode it to the ground tearing at its neck. Across the road, flames erupted in the wheat field, and Dirk knew Fyrfrost had rejoined the fray.

Chief
was at his side once more as Dirk kept low through the field of husks. He could have used his hood to locate the Draggard, but instead, he trusted Chief to guide him true. They moved north, and Chief gave a low growl. His quarry came into view not far off through the gaps in the corn: three Draggard. Dirk threw an exploding dart up into the air that arched in its flight and came down in the midst of the small band. The explosion was followed by many shrieks.

“
Finish them off!” said Dirk.

Chief
charged toward the rising smoke, and Dirk continued north and east. Another explosion rang out among the tumult. He came out of the corn field and scanned the road to the south. Fyrfrost bathed it in flames from on high. Between him and the dragon-hawk, Krentz battled a dark elf handler and his minions. She moved with liquid grace and deadly precision, dancing around her opponents and turning to smoke before their blades landed. The dark elf knew his danger and kept his beasts after her as she advanced.

Dirk
started toward them, and Chief came crashing through the field to join him. They ran down the road at the dark elf’s back as he hurled spells frantically at Krentz. The wheat field to the left was littered with scorched bodies; none lived to attack from the side of the road. To the right was the cornfield they had just circled from. If any Draggard remained, they did not advance.

“
Distract him, Chief!” Dirk called.

Chief
took spirit form and shot toward the dark elf with a snarl. Dirk went wide of the elf as Chief took form and slammed into him. Beneath Chief, the elf vanished, leaving only a cloak to be pawed at curiously by the confused wolf. Dirk ran the outskirts of the group Krentz had engaged and, with his enchanted blade, cut two of the beasts’ tails off. When they turned in a rage, Dirk went to work with sword and dagger. A spear came at him and was deflected wide, followed by a spiked ball and chain. Dirk spun away from the heavy ball and turned quickly as it hit the ground hard. The Draggard yanked back on the handle, and Dirk severed the chain and sent the beast flying backward. His dagger came up to catch a long spear blade as he engaged two others. He moved in a blur of motion, leaving the Draggard weaponless and bloody, even as their heads slid from bleeding necks and shock covered their hideous faces. He cut through another to find Krentz standing before him, holding her bloody curved blade.

“
It’s about time,” she teased, and he wiped his blades with a smile.

Chief
whined and pawed cautiously at the dark elf’s cloak. Krentz knelt and felt the ground beneath her. She closed her eyes in concentration, and, after a time, stood, shaking her head.

“
He is gone to the south.”

Fyrfrost
sat, gnawing on a Draggard head, trying to get to the brains. The road stretched on toward the coast between similar fields. Bare road and blue sky dominated the landscape.

Dirk
moved to investigate the cloak, but was stopped by Krentz.

“
Wait,” she said with a hand to his chest. “He would not leave his cloak behind. Any practitioner of Ralliad or Krundar knows how to shift their effects along with themselves. It is likely a trap.”

“
Come, Chief,” said Dirk, and then whistled to Fyrfrost.

“
Men approach from the north, an army it seems,” Krentz told him.

A
hill in that direction obstructed Dirk’s view. “How far?” he asked.

“
A few miles,” she said as if listening. She bent and once again felt the earth at their feet. “They are many hundreds. With cavalry and wagons.”

“
Shall we avoid them?” he asked.

Kr
entz shook her head slowly. “We should learn what we might.”

“
They will not take kindly to a dark elf,” he reminded her.

“
I can appear however I wish. They will see not a dark elf, but an elf of such beauty they will be compelled to cooperate,” said Krentz.

“
Chief, stay close, but stay hidden and wait for my word,” said Dirk. It would be much easier on the horses.

They
mounted Fyrfrost, and he flew them over the hill to the north. Large regiments of marching soldiers came into view. A cavalry, two horses wide and at least twenty long, followed. Long lances of silver and blue shone brilliant in the sunlight. Two knights rode ahead and behind the company, each flying large Eldalonian flags on long poles. The army of silver and blue stopped on command as the first cries of “dragon!” began to ring out.

Between
the marching soldiers and cavalry were hundreds of men, women and children: the refugees of Kell-Torey.

Dirk
urged Fyrfrost to land upon the road many hundred yards before the soldiers. He and Krentz dismounted as the company halted, and arrows were nocked by the soldiers as they took a knee. The cavalry split and charged past the soldiers and refugees to form a wide barrier. Dirk raised his empty hands to them and began to walk down the road to meet them. Krentz followed. The arrows did not fly. He considered that a good sign. A flag bearer and two knights on armored horses galloped out to meet them on the road.

“
Ho!” one shouted as they approached. “Show your hands!” he yelled. The three knights circled them with lances pointed at their chests. The speaker, who was only distinguishable beyond the helmet by his large curled mustache, seemed to be the leader of the group. He eyed them both, but paid particular attention to Krentz.

“
Drop your weapons and surrender,” he ordered, shooting a wary glance at the dragon-hawk.

“
We are not enemies of Eldalon,” said Dirk as he tried not to think about the recently deceased Royal family. “Neither will we lay down our arms.”

The
knights tensed and held their spears a bit higher. Dirk stared down the shafts. The two looked to their general for guidance, but the mustached man only continued to take measure of Dirk and Krentz as the knights circled slowly.

“
You would dare defy an order from an Eldalonian knight?” barked the general.

“
No need for all this, good sir. We are not enemies to Eldalon, but allies. Our enemies are one and the same: Eadon and his dark elf minions.”

“
Lay down your arms. This is your last warning,” said the general, unsheathing his sword.