Free A Crown Of War (Book 4) by Michael Ploof

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