The crowd of widows, men. and children broke into cheer. Tears fell and smiles gleamed, and an exhausted and tearful Rhunis took his leave. Whill, along with a tearful but smiling Abram and Roakore, followed suit, leaving the people to their mourning.
They came upon Rhunis shortly after, outside his tent. He sat upon the ground, taking large gulps from a bottle of dark liquid. Whill patted him on the shoulder. “I feel for your loss.No doubt you knew many of the fallen soldiers as friends.”
Rhunis looked up, raised his bottle to the heavens, and took yet another long swig. Wiping his mouth, he accepted condolences from Abram and Roakore as well and then got to his feet. Rhunis offered his bottle to the three, and they all in turn took a hearty drink. Rhunis composed himself and smiled. “As I said, they died well. Simple tears will fall.”
Roakore took a second swig from the bottle and rounded on Rhunis. He slammed his fist into his chest and bowed slightly before the scarred knight. “Rhunis, Dragonslayer o’ Eldalon. It’s an honor to meet ye. I be Roakore, son o’ Ro’Din o’ the Ebony Mountains.”
Rhunis, having dealt with the dwarves before, and aware of Roakore’s title, replied in earnest. He slammed his fist to his chest and bowed slightly. “Well met, Roakore, son of Ro’Din of the Ebony Mountains. I knew that my friends here traveled with a dwarf. But I knew not that they kept such esteemed company.” He offered his hand in the customary human greeting and the two shook hands.
They were soon joined by the two elf siblings, Avriel and Zerafin. Abram, being acquainted with all, introduced everyone to each other. Shortly after, they all retired to Rhunis’s tent, giving the villagers their peace, and emptying many of Rhunis’s bottles of wine.
The conversation went on for more than an hour, and various tales of adventure and folly were shared. Whill enjoyed the company of the others immensely, though he found himself staring at Avriel far too often. Roakore had relaxed around the elves, it seemed, and the talk turned eventually to the upcoming meeting in Kell-Torey.
“That is one of the reasons I followed you from Fendale,” said Rhunis as he popped yet another cork. “Initially King Mathus of Eldalon ordered me to follow the two of you, after finding out you were being trailed by Captain Cirossa. Upon finding you, I was to see that you made safe passage to Kell-Torey. Whoever you are, Whill, King Mathus sees it prudent that you make that meeting.”
All in the room besides Rhunis shared knowing glances. But Rhunis was no fool.
“Well then, out with it. Who are you, Whill of Agora?”
Whill looked at Abram, but he only offered Whill a shrug. Whill hated these formalities, but knew they were necessary. He stood and faced Rhunis. “I am Whill, son of Aramonis, rightful king of the Uthen-Arden empire.”
Rhunis looked at Whill dumbfounded, his mouth opened wide. He looked at Abram and then the others. He seemed to ponder for a moment, and then went down on one knee before Whill. “It is an honor, and a great joy, to meet you, King Whill. Your mother was the beloved princess of Eldalon, loved by all, and your father was one of the greatest kings of his time. You have my blade, and my undying loyalty.”
Whill looked down at the kneeling knight. He felt uncomfortable and a bit silly, but he knew that Rhunis was serious, and knew also that his title was indeed an impressive one. He motioned for Rhunis to rise. “Please stand, Rhunis. Though I appreciate the gesture, I do not know if I will ever get used to it. And I am not yet king, anyway.”
Rhunis returned to his seat and refilled everyone’s glasses. “To Whill, rightful king of Uthen-Arden-may he take back the throne which is his by right, and bring peace to Arden!”
“Hear, hear!” cried Roakore.
“Hear, hear!” cried Abram. And they all clanged glasses and took hearty drinks.
Abram and Roakore lit their pipes as a short silence followed. Whill looked to Avriel, who smiled approvingly. Rhunis shook his head in wonder.
“I never would have imagined that the child of Celestra had survived. This is indeed great news.” His brow furrowed. “But how?”
“That story would be better told by Abram,” Whill said.
Abram told Rhunis the entire story, with Avriel adding to it when it turned to Elladrindellia. To Whill’s amazement, he learned that she had helped in his healing as an infant. But what astounded Rhunis was the fact that the Draggard had been the attackers, and that Addakon, Whill’s uncle, had seen to it.
“I have never liked Addakon, though I have met him only twice,” Rhunis said. “There was always something off about that one, nothing like your father, Whill, nothing at all. Your father was a great man: he helped his people, he was just and honest. But Addakon-something about the man made me uneasy. I can’t quite place it. He always had an air about him of superiority and greatness, a condescending smile…oh, how I hate that smile. Nothing like your father, I say.”
Roakore spoke up for the first time in a while. “Aye, nothing at all, I too once met yer father, and later yer uncle. Ye are yer father’s son, Whill, an’ not o’ yer uncle’s make.”
Zerafin, to whom Whill had not yet spoken beyond a simple greeting, addressed him. “I met the both of them when they came to be trained many years ago, and I can say that we all felt the difference between them. The older and very wise of our people even urged our mother not to let Addakon be trained. She knew his heart, do not doubt, but she had made a pact with the late king of Arden those many years before. She could not break her vow, and both twins were trained in the ways of Orna Catorna.”
His face was stern, and his eyes looked beyond the tent and seemed to focus rather on the past, to those many years ago when the twin princes of Uthen-Arden had come to be trained. Then his gaze turned to Whill with a scrutiny no less intense than his sister’s. Finally he smiled. “Good be it that one such as Whill has upon his shoulders such a task, good too that I and my sister should see to the first of his teachers.”
Then there came a slight tap upon Rhunis’s tent, and then another. Rhunis raised a hand for silence and asked, “Who goes there?”
An Eldalonian soldier entered. Seeing the great company Rhunis was entertaining, he bowed low repeatedly and said sheepishly, “General Rhunis, sir, I apologize for the interruption. But there is pressing business within the town still.”
Rhunis got to his feet. “Of course.” He nodded to the surrounding group. “If you will excuse me, then.”
Abram stood. “I think I’ll join you. I am sure the good people could use as much help as possible.”
Roakore wiped wine from his mouth with his long beard. “Aye. I think I’ll make meself useful, too.”
“I’ll be along shortly,” Whill said, and the three departed.
Zerafin held up the wine bottle, gesturing to Whill. “No, thanks, I’ve had enough,” Whill said.
Zerafin smiled as he poured himself and Avriel a small amount. “What is on your mind, Whill? You wonder how it is that we came upon you, yes?”
“You read my mind.”
Zerafin chuckled. “Not quite. It is simply a logical deduction. We would not enter your mind without your permission-unless you were in grave danger, of course. As Avriel did when you so weakened yourself healing the boy.”
Whill had known deep down that it had not all been a dream. Nonetheless, hearing it spoken of so plainly was a comforting confirmation. Zerafin scratched his hairless chin and asked nonchalantly, “Did you realize that you would have died if Avriel had not intervened? You gave Tarren so much that you left none for yourself.”
Avriel simply shrugged shyly. Whill thought for a fleeting moment he saw her blush. Zerafin chuckled once again. “My sister has always been modest.” He smiled at her. They held their gaze for only a few seconds, but Whill had the feeling he was missing part of the conversation. Avriel raised an eyebrow at her brother and turned her angelic gaze to Whill.