Free Whill of Agora Trilogy: Book 01 - Whill of Agora by Michael Ploof Page B

terribly since he has been in power. Never in the history of Arden has there been a more brutal king. How can they believe his lies and follow so blindly?”
    “Do not forget, Whill, Addakon will have been carefully planning all this for many years. And though he has treated his people badly, they will follow his lead if presented with a common enemy. Especially one so terrible as the Draggard.”
    Whill’s mind raced as he tried to comprehend what he had heard. He stood up and slammed his fist down on the table. “We must do something! There is no time to wait for the ship to be finished. Let us go now to the mountains and be done with it! We must tell Mathus that we will fight.”
    Abram smiled. “I’d hoped you would say that.”
    With that, Whill and Abram grabbed their things and hurriedly packed their bags. They left Ocean Mist and made their way to the bank together on Whill’s horse. Once inside the bank they converted all but one bag of gold to diamonds. Upon finishing the transaction, they quickly rode to the docks and found Freston.
    “We must leave Fendale at once, my friend,” Abram told him.
    “What’s wrong? Is there trouble?”
    “Yes, of the worst kind.” He quickly explained what he knew of the Isladon siege.
    Freston did not seem shocked. “I knew Addakon was no good. Ever since his brother died, things haven’t been right in Arden.”
    “We wish to leave today, as soon as possible,” Abram said. “Do you know of anyone who will sell us a vessel?”
    “Of course. I will.” He pointed to a small ship docked forty feet away. “I have three of them, as you know, but there is no need to buy it. If you must go, go now and take Old Charlotte . She’s not much to look at but she’s sturdy, and fast.”
    Whill stepped forward. “Will you take care of my horse until we return?”
    “Like she were my own. And your ship as well, lad. It’s a shame you won’t see her come to life.”
    Whill nodded. “I was looking forward to sailing her soon, but that will have to wait.”
    Freston led them to a large wooden building built into the back of the cave. It was a store for sailors to get last-minute supplies. Whill ordered dried meats, cheese, bread, and a barrel of water. Next to the barrels of wine, mead, and water there was a large stack of barrels labeled “Dragon’s Brew” in bold red letters. He laughed to himself and said, “I’ll take a small barrel of old Barlemew’s brew also.”
    He overpaid by a few gold coins and carried the meat while a young boy wheeled the rest of the things to the boat. Together Whill and Abram loaded the vessel and said their farewells to Freston and his sons.
    Because there was no wind within the cave, the ship had to be pulled by a rowed tugboat. Twenty men pulled vigorously on their oars as they slowly pulled Old Charlotte out of the harbor. Once they were out of the cave Whill could feel the strong wind on his face. Abram waved to the rowers and untied the line that connected them to the tugboat.
    “Are you ready to sail, my boy?”
    “That I am, sir. That I am.”
    Together they opened the sail and quickly caught wind. Whill took in the familiar smell of the ocean water. With the wind in his hair and the wheel in hand he steered them westward. Their path would bring them completely around the western coast of Eldalon, roughly a thousand miles to the port town of Sherna.
    Whill looked at the city above the cliff. Even in the sunlight he could make out the white beam of the lighthouse. He regretted having to leave Fendale. He loved its people and the city itself. But at least now he would find out his past, locked away somewhere in the dark recesses of the Ky’Dren Mountains.
    Abram looked at the sky. “We should make Sherna in about a week if this wind keeps up. From there it will be another forty or so miles to the mountains.”
    Whill nodded. “I assume we’ll walk from there. Horses won’t be much use in the mountains.”
    “No, they won’t,