Whill of Agora woa-1 Read online

  With the stars came a chill that rode on the wind as the night air pushed the ship steadily along. Whill shivered with the drop in temperature. Abram went below and retrieved his long, hooded brown robe.

  “I was going to give you this in Fendale on your birthday next week, but I figure you’ll be needing it now. Besides, I can’t hide it forever.” He held up a large black fur coat. “I had this made for you in Fendale. I saved some of the wolf hides and had a tailor make this.”

  Whill inspected the fine coat. It was black as a moonless night and so long it would fall to his knees. Around the waist was a long strip of leather for a belt, and there were large silver buttons down the front.

  “Thank you, Abram! It is a fine gift.” He put the coat on and buttoned it up. It was very warm and a welcome barrier against the wind.

  As the night passed Whill kept true to their course; with the silhouette of the coast to his far left it was hard to veer off. Abram put a hand on his shoulder. “You can handle her for a while, eh? I’m going to catch some sleep.”

  “Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”

  They had been sailing for nearly sixteen hours and Whill could still see the faint light of the Fendale lighthouse. He was amazed at how far it shone. As he stood at the wheel, hypnotized by the steady crashing of small waves and the endless bobbing of the boat, he thought of the journey ahead. They had ventured the Ky’Dren Mountains before, but that had been years ago, when Whill was just a boy. Still, he knew much of the history of the mountains, and indeed of every land. He and Abram had lived for a time in just about every town, and he had learned many of the traditions and ways of the various peoples. They had stayed in Brindon, Orenden, Bearadon, and even Belldon of the Shierdon kingdom.

  Most major towns of Shierdon were built on the edges of Lake Eardon. Lake Eardon was more than 150 miles across, with a large island, Belldon, taking up the middle. Belldon was more of a fortress than a town. In the early days, during the war between the kingdoms, the people of Shierdon could retreat to Belldon and find safe refuge, for no army in the history of Agora had ever overtaken the island fortress. As people settled and spread throughout Agora, there were often wars waged over land as each king fought to increase the size of his own kingdom or take over another. Many times Belldon had saved its people, being virtually inaccessible but by boat.

  In those days there were many more than four kingdoms of men. What was now Uthen-Arden had at one time been made up of more than twelve small kingdoms, constantly battling for power. As the years passed and lands were taken by war, two kingdoms rose above the rest, Uthen and Arden. After a bloody war between the two, they finally ended the strife and outlined their borders in the Uthen-Arden Peace Treaty. The kingdom of Uthen spanned from what was now the Isladon border and the existing mountain border of Ky’Dren eastward to the center of the Thendor Plains. The kingdom of Arden extended from the plains border, to the easternmost coast of Agora. Beyond the Elgar Mountains, including what was now called Elladrindellia.

  The two kingdoms lived in peace for nearly four hundred years until war broke out between them once again. The great war of Uthen-Arden raged for more than thirty years, during which time children were born to both kings: Adolas, son of the king of Arden and heir to the throne, and Bryella, daughter of the king of Uthen, an old man who had yet failed to produce a son of his own. In the midst of the war, a secret love affair arose between Adolas and Bryella, and it happened that when both kings fell in battle on the Thendor Plains, Adolas became king of Arden. Shortly after he called an end to the war and took Bryella as his queen, combining the two great kingdoms into one, now called Uthen-Arden, though many referred to it simply as Arden.

  Isladon had established itself long before the wars of Uthen-Arden. The borders that existed now along the Ebony Mountains and down to the coast were made years before either great kingdom came to power. Though many attempts had been made to overtake Isladon, none had succeeded.

  Eldalon was the oldest and possibly strongest of the four kingdoms of men. This was mostly due to the mountain borders and the Ky’Dren Pass, against which many armies had marched and been defeated. Unlike all other kingdoms, Eldalon maintained an alliance with the dwarves. According to legend, this amiable relationship dated back to the time when the king of Eldalon gave the great mountains back to the Dwarves after it had been taken by what was at the time the kingdom of Gothneck. The mines of the Ky’Dren were rich with gold and diamonds, and the dwarves thought a man who would give back such a treasure must be of the most noble kind. They never forgot Eldalon’s kindness and fought alongside it every time the Ky’Dren Pass was challenged.

  Whill looked forward to meeting the Ky’Dren dwarves, but more so he looked forward to finding out what secrets of his their deep chambers and vaults possessed. As he went over the long history of Agora in his mind, he wondered if there was indeed a possibility that it would ever fall to the Draggard. After all, the beasts had conquered the elves of Drindellia. True, the armies of Agora were strong, and the navies stronger still. But the elves had powers that humans did not, and if they could be defeated by the Draggard, then what chance did humans have?

  Though the sky was clear and the night was calm, Whill was troubled. Suddenly he heard a loud banging noise that jolted him from his trance. Abram appeared from below the deck, swearing loudly and rubbing his head. Whill laughed. “You all right, old man?”

  “The damned ceiling down there was made for a dwarf. I swear, if it were any lower I would have to crawl around like a fragging dog.”

  “Well, Mr. Brightside, at least you’ve still a head to hit things on. It’s got to be the hardest head this side of the Thendor Plains,” Whill said, mocking Abram’s voice, which he happened to be very good at.

  “Very funny.” Abram checked his fingers for blood.

  “If you like I could try to find you an iceberg to bring down the swelling.”

  Abram chuckled. “Alright, jester, why don’t you get some rest. I’ll take over for the rest of the night.”

  Whill gave Abram a pat on the back as he took over the wheel. He then went down the six large steps to the sleeping quarters. He crossed the dark room with his arms outstretched. Suddenly he banged his head on a low beam. A flash of light appeared before his eyes and he became dizzy. Sharp pain shot from his throbbing forehead. He heard Abram burst into a fit of laughter above.

  “Look out for that beam! My father always said what comes around goes around. You all right, boy?”

  “Never better,” Whill grumbled as he found the cot. “Good night.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Diamonds and Greed

  “Wake up, Whill, we have trouble!”

  Abram shook Whill out of his quiet and dreamless sleep. He sat straight up in the cot, alert and ready. “What is it?”

  “Come above.” Abram started for the steps.

  Whill followed Abram to the deck and looked at the sails and then the ocean with wonder. “What’s wrong?”

  Abram pointed to the rear of the ship. “There.”

  Whill followed Abram’s finger toward the horizon. With the morning sun just rising in the east, it was not hard to see the faint dot. “A ship, I presume?”

  Abram nodded, troubled. “I noticed it not an hour ago. Whoever they are, they have been following our course steady, and they’re gaining.”

  “Pirates!” Whill spat over the side of the boat.

  “Yes. Followed us from Fendale, I imagine.” He slammed his hand down hard on the rail. “Damn, but I am a fool. We are not prepared for this.”

  “Can we outrun them?” Whill asked.

  Abram answered bluntly. “No. This ship is no match to theirs.” He paused. “We could sail toward shore and try to make land in time.” He pointed toward the distant shore, which was nothing more than a phantom beyond the fog.

  “But broad cliffs line those shores for miles. Our only option is to fight.” Whill looked at the ship upon the horizon, already growing larger. �
�What if we just give them the diamonds? That’s what they want.”

  “Pirates have a code, as you know: leave no man alive whom you have wronged. They will take what they want and kill us without hesitation.”

  “Then what chance do we stand?”

  Abram smiled at him. “None but hope, my friend. Hope that our path is not destined to end here. That is all we have.”

  Whill was not encouraged by Abram’s speech. “We should start tossing everything we don’t need!”

  “That will give us a little more speed and a little more time, but that is all. Let us prepare for battle.” Abram loaded his quiver with arrows. Whill went below and donned his armor from the tournament. He also grabbed the armor he had bought for Abram and brought it up to the deck.

  “I was going to give this to you yesterday but we left in such a hurry I didn’t have a chance.” He held out the bag.

  Abram took the contents out of the bag and marveled at the silver armor. He gave Whill a one-armed hug and pat on the back. “Thank you, Whill. Not only is this a wonderful gift, but it will also come in very handy very soon.”

  The hours passed and the ship gained steadily on them. Soon it was not more than a half-mile away. Whill could tell at that distance that it was a black ship with all-black sails but for a large white dragon symbol at the center of each.

  “That can’t be,” he said in astonishment.

  “I’m afraid it is. The Black Dragon.”

  Whill knew of the Black Dragon, as did most people living in Agora. It was the ship of the notorious pirate Captain Cirrosa, who had been a captain for the Arden navy. His last mission had been as a guide for a merchant ship sailing from the port city of Hentaro, destined for Fendale. The cargo he had been ordered to protect was a wealth of diamonds and jewels, over twenty chests. After sailing from Hentaro, neither his nor the merchant vessel were seen again. It was rumored that the ships were lost to a great storm, or destroyed by dragons. But when a black vessel identical to the Black Dragon was reported to have been plundering ships, it became clear to the king and people of Arden that it was indeed Captain Cirrosa and his crew. Since then Cirrosa had become the most feared and wanted pirate to sail the great oceans of Agora.

  Abram scowled at the approaching ship. “We have but one advantage: the element of surprise.”

  Whill knew exactly what Abram had in mind and he quickly went to work. From one of his bags he retrieved a length of bandage cloth. He tore it into long, thin strips and wound them around the end of his arrows. Next he dismantled a lantern, opening it at the basin so that he could dip his arrows into the oil. He and Abram quickly converted ten arrows in this manner. Finally Abram lit a torch and they were ready for their surprise attack, feeble though it might be.

  The Dragon seemed to Whill to be about two hundred yards away. He nodded to Abram, gesturing for him to light his arrow. With the tip of his arrow ablaze, Whill steadily pulled back on the bow as he aimed at a point high in the sky. Bringing the bowstring all the way back until the feather of the arrow touched his cheek, Whill fired. The blazing arrow flew high into the sky in a large arch, straightened out, and began its descent upon the ship. The arrow missed its target; instead of hitting the sails, it landed on the deck of the vessel. Whill and Abram could hear someone cursing and screaming obscenities and assumed it was Captain Cirrosa ordering his men to put out the small blaze. As the first arrow hit, Whill was ready with another. Abram lit this one in the same fashion and Whill recalculated his shot. The second arrow took flight in the same manner as the first, but this one found its target. It hit the closest sail in a small burst of flames, which quickly began to spread. Men swung from ropes, trying to douse the flames with buckets of water. The captain’s barked orders became more urgent now, and Whill heard him yelling, “Drop sail, you useless fish turds, drop sail!”

  Before the crew of the Dragon could comply, Whill shot another arrow at the same sail, this time hitting it higher than before. He followed with two more arrows aimed at the deck of the ship. The Dragon was now less than one hundred yards from their boat, and Whill could see that a small group of archers was preparing to fire upon them. He let loose another arrow, aiming this time at the archers. The men saw it coming and ducked out of the way as the arrow stuck in the mainmast, spraying liquid fire on the surrounding ship and men. As the arrow hit, the archers surfaced again and shot a barrage of twelve arrows at Whill and Abram. Whill yelled, “Get down!” and ducked in the stern as the arrows struck the deck and water.

  Not daring to peek over the side of the ship, Whill watched as Abram abandoned the torch and went for his own bow, which lay beside him. He readied an arrow and began to say, “All right, when they get-” but his words were interrupted by a deafening crash as the Black Dragon rammed them at the starboard rear. Though they were huddled close to stern, Whill and Abram were now smashed hard against it from the great force of the collision. As they recovered from the blow, they saw the bow of the Dragon come into view. It loomed more than sixty feet over Old Charlotte and seemed ten times as broad. Abram scrambled into a shooting position, as did Whill, and as the archers came into view the pair took down two of them with simultaneous shots. Their fellow archers cursed them as they let their arrows fly. Anticipating the return fire and with no immediate cover, Abram grabbed Whill and ran for the sleeping quarters. Arrows fell right where they had been, and more followed close at Whill’s heels. Abram and Whill had instinctively notched another arrow each and took the opportunity to fire before the archers could. They stopped just long enough to get off a clear shot, and quickly closed the distance to the opening as two bodies fell to their deck from above.

  Whill and Abram hurried into the doorway to the sleeping quarters and stood with their backs to the wall opposite the attacking ship. Whill stood closest to the opening. “That’s one hell of a large ship,” he said as more arrows hit the opposing wall.

  Abram nodded as he readied another arrow.

  Whill did the same. “There must be over a hundred men aboard.”

  “Aye. And here they come.”

  Whill heard what could only be large ropes hitting the deck. Abram grabbed his arm and switched places with him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “There’s no time to bicker.” Abram abandoned his cover, dropped to his knees, and fired three arrows in rapid succession. Whill heard three loud thuds as bodies hit the deck. Abram retreated to within the stairway once again and strung another arrow.

  “There are seven ropes over the side of the Dragon and men are filing down one after another. It appears that the captain dropped anchor on the approach, because they are almost completely stopped next to us.” Abram laughed. “They say that Captain Cirrosa can stop his ship on a coin. Too bad they’re right.”

  Whill wasn’t amused. “What do we do?”

  “We can’t hide here forever. Let’s do the unexpected and meet them head on, my boy. Are you up for a good fight?”

  Before Whill could answer, Abram ran out into the opening, firing arrows as he went. Whill followed suit and ran screaming onto the deck. At least twenty men were now descending upon the ship down the long ropes. Whill shot at the men highest on the ropes, hoping they would take some of their fellow seamen with them as they fell. He took up his position next to Abram as they took down two more men each with their bows. Though they were excellent bowmen, the men were too many, and soon they were on deck. Some of the attacking pirates had swords, while others brandished a long knife in each hand. Still others carried hatchets and maces. The men didn’t look anything like Whill thought pirates might. They wore rags for clothes and looked very thin, as if they hadn’t eaten for weeks. Two men charged forward and were quickly taken down by arrows, but as they fell four more charged in their place. Outnumbered and out of arrows, Whill and Abram drew swords and made a charge of their own. The men came at them with wild screams and curses, fearless in their attack.

  Whill blocked a blow meant for his head and qu
ickly brought his sword down and across the chest of his attacker. Pushing the man back into the group of pirates, he ducked as an arrow zinged past his left ear. Abram had killed two men and was now fighting a third when Whill noticed an archer taking aim at his friend. Whill quickly dispatched another pirate, grabbed his knife, and threw it at the archer sixty feet overhead. The blade found its mark and hit the bowman in the throat as the arrow intended for Abram hit a pirate descending the ropes. Two men now came at Whill, one with a hatchet, the other a sword. The hatchet-wielding pirate made a two-handed overhead attack as the other jabbed straight at Whill’s chest. Whill blocked the swordsman and spun away from the hatchet blow. Abram chopped the head off the hatchet-wielder and blocked a blow of yet another foe as Whill parried the swordsman’s attack. The pirate was no match for Whill, who cut the man down with ease. Even as more men came onto the deck, Whill and Abram steadily drove them back.

  “Come on, you pirate scum!” Whill screamed as he took down three more men. Abram was now fighting a large man with two swords. Whill again faced a man with a hatchet, who came at him with a wild cry. As the pirate swung at Whill’s head, Whill quickly blocked the blow. Swinging his sword down hard, he effectively caused the hatchet to lodge in the deck floor. Before the attacking pirate knew what had happened, Whill stabbed him through. Before the body could fall, Whill had impaled another pirate who had just landed on deck. Whill turned and grabbed the hatchet that had stuck in the deck and simultaneously blocked a sword attack. Abram killed Whill’s attacker and was quickly faced with yet another foe. Whill launched the hatchet towards the top of the rope that held the most men. The hatchet cut the rope clean and sent six men falling towards the deck. As the men fell, there was a shout from the ship above.

  “Enough!”

  Captain Cirrosa stood with his hands upon the side of the boat, looking down at the battle below. His hair and clothes were black as night. His face was deeply tanned and rough with age and years at sea. He wore a mustache and pointed goatee, which, along with his menacing eyes, gave him the look of a bird of prey, ready to attack.