Roakore guided his fevered son from the saddle carefully, and laid him on the cold stone floor with shaking hands. Silverwind craned her head back and nudged the sleeping prince and gave a lamenting croon.
“Helzendar, ye stubborn bastard…” Roakore lost his voice to despair and called out at the top of his lungs for the healer. Guards came hurrying into the chamber and skidded to a stop before their king.
“WHERE SHE BE?” Roakore demanded.
“She be right behind us, me king,” said one of the guards.
“Ye hear that, laddie? Me best healer be comin’. Ye’ll make it outta this. Ye be the strongest and bravest dwarf I ever laid eyes upon.”
The guards shifted uncomfortably in the presence of their crying king. He eyed them with a murderous scowl. “If she be right behind ye, then where she be? Go find out. Carry her if need be, for Ky’Dren’s sake!”
They scrambled out of the chamber and left Roakore to his lamentations. He cursed the guards and the healer, too. Time had never passed so slowly in his life. The stump was swollen and raw. Green ooze had begun to seep out where metal melded with flesh. Roakore found his courage and pulled a hatchet from his leg strap—he knew what the healer would do.
Fire, he would need fire.
He ran to the nearest torch, pulled it off the wall and set it down on the stone beside Helzendar. He then laid a hatchet in the flame and waited until it was glowing red. Carefully he laid the stump across the stone.
“Forgive me, laddie,” he said, and before he lost his gumption, he came down swift and true and chopped off the end of the stump. Blood poured and spurted weakly with the labored heart, and he let it, hoping that some of the poison would go with it. Before too much blood could be lost, he pressed the glowing hatchet hard against the wound, stifling the flow and cauterizing it.
Just then the guards rushed in with the healer. She dropped down next to the boy and pushed her king aside. “Did he stir when ye severed the rot?”
“Not at all,” said Roakore, closely watching her face for a reaction.
She let out an angry sigh. “That’s not good. Here, hold this.”
Roakore took the torch and watched with worry as the healer went to work applying salves and ointments.
“What happened to him? Why’s the bit ye cut off look like it’s been melted like that? That ain’t from fire.”
“No fire did that. It was the acid spit o’ a green dragon.”
Everyone in the room turned to regard their king with shock and awe.
The healer blanched. “Call the holy dwarves. Call every healer within a day’s march. This be beyond me skill.”
For seven long days and nights, Helzendar fought the dragon’s venom. The healers did what they could, but none had seen such a thing in their lifetimes. The ancient dragons, those of the time of Ky’Dren, were said to possess such terrible abilities. The old tomes spoke of ways to cure such maladies. They were left to trust the words of their ancestors, and pray to the gods that Helzendar was not meant for the great mountain in the sky just yet.
Roakore rested little throughout the entire ordeal, only sleeping when the bottle knocked him out. Arrianna, was stronger than he in those dark hours. She left her son’s bedside not at all, and even called together all of her sister-wives and Roakore’s children to pray over the brave prince.
When Helzendar’s sickness began to take a turn for the worse, Roakore went to his private chapel and fell to his knees before the tall statue of Ky’Dren.
“Please, me king, if ye be havin’ the power, please extend yer grace to me son. I ain’t fearin’ for his soul. I know he has earned his place. But I ask that his life be spared for now. I see great things for the lad. He shall be a king of kings, a warrior so fierce that all dwarven foes will cower at his name. Please, if it be in ye power, help me boy.”
He got up and began to leave, but then stopped suddenly and whirled around to face the statue with burning eyes. “Ye owe me one for takin’ Nah’Zed the way ye did.”
The eighth day came and went without any improvement; on the contrary, Helzendar’s fever only worsened, and the veins beneath his pale skin shone dark green. It was feared that the dragon’s venom would cause something unnatural to occur in the young dwarf, and mercy might be needed—mercy in the form of an overdose of poppy milk. But Roakore adamantly refused and cursed those who suggested it.
On the morning of the ninth day, Roakore awoke beside his son’s bed. His wife lay beside him, and both of their hands held Helzendar’s. Roakore’s eyes shot open… He didn’t feel the burning heat he had the night before. He roused his wife and got out of bed in such a hurry he nearly tripped over the fur blanket someone had covered them with.
When he regarded his son, he blanched. Helzendar smiled blearily at him from the bed.
“By Ky’Dren’s glory, he be alive!”
Arrianna shrieked with glee and threw herself on her son, bathing him in teary-eyed kisses. Through it all, Helzendar smiled brightly at his father, who couldn’t help but laugh and cry all at the same time.
“I been to the mountain o’ the gods,” said Helzendar. “An’ I been sent back with a message.”
Letter to the Reader
Dear Reader,
Thank you for purchasing Kingdoms in Chaos. I hope you enjoyed this book.
I would love to hear what you thought of the story, good or bad, so please feel free to leave a review. I also invite you to join the Legends of Agora mailing list for updates on upcoming book releases, contests, giveaways, and my author blog.
I want to thank everyone who has helped make my far-fetched dream a reality. I am a self-published author and do not have the luxury of a team of promoters at my disposal. YOU are my team, and it is fans like you that make all of this possible.
To everyone who has left a review, shared my books on Goodreads, posted on Twitter or Facebook, or simply just enjoyed one of my books and told their friends—Thank you very much.
With humble appreciation,
Michael James Ploof
Table of Contents
Whill of Agora
Book 5
Table of Contents
Other Books by Michael James Ploof
Special Thanks
Agora Map
Chapter 1
Rise of the Ancient
Chapter 2
A Kingdom in Chaos
Chapter 3
The Ponderings of Dwarf Kings
Chapter 4
The Bearer of the Trinket
Chapter 5
The Forsaken King
Chapter 6
Father of Dragons
Chapter 7
Tortured Souls
Chapter 8
Hope and Despair
Chapter 9
Whispers in the Dark
Chapter 10
Crossing the Line
Chapter 11
The Old Ardenians
Chapter 12
Homeland on the Horizon
Chapter 13
A King’s Work is never done
Chapter 14
The Age of Dragons
Chapter 15
The Curse of Power
Chapter 16
The Crossroads
Chapter 17
Queen’s Landing
Chapter 18
Smoke on the Water
Chapter 19
Restless Seas
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
The Avengers of the Taking
Chapter 22
The Great Migration
Chapter 23
The Way of the Watcher
Chapter 24
A Force of Will
Chapter 25
Of Elves and Wolves
Chapter 26
Attack on Volnoss
Chapter 27
Fates Collide
Chapter 28
The Birth
of Hope
Chapter 29
Confessions of a Killer
Chapter 30
Unspoken Words
Chapter 31
Bad Tidings
Chapter 32
Blasphemous Words
Chapter 33
Dreams o’ Glory
Chapter 34
The Price of Knowledge
Chapter 35
Bound to Serve
Chapter 36
The Princess and the Lich
Chapter 37
Elgar Mountain
Chapter 38
The Five Hun’red
Chapter 39
Good Tidings from the East
Chapter 40
The Mending
Chapter 41
Like Father, Like Son
Chapter 42
Last words
Chapter 43
Breggard
Chapter 44
Second Chances
Chapter 45
Drakkar Island
Chapter 46
Kneel Before Your New God
Chapter 47
Brinn
Chapter 48
Lake of Fire
Chapter 49
An Act of War
Chapter 50
The Exodus Begins
Chapter 51
Necromancer of the North
Chapter 52
Mountain o’ Fire
Chapter 53
In the eyes of the Father
Chapter 54
The Summoning
Chapter 55
A Prayer in the Dark
Chapter 56
Inner Vision
Chapter 57
Turning the Tide
Chapter 58
Messenger o’ the Gods
Letter to the Reader
Table of Contents