Whill of Agora Book 01 - Whill of Agora - Michael Ploof by Michael Ploof

Author:Michael Ploof
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Unlikely Companions

The collection of the dead continued throughout the night and into the morning. No one slept, even those who could have. For demons newly born see dreams as a playground, and with sleep can only come the remembrance of screams, blood, death.

The morning sun shed light upon a village in ruin. Every building had been burned to the ground, save the town hall. The ground was so red with blood in some places it looked as though the earth itself were bleeding. The bodies of men, women, and a few unlucky children littered the village, all covered with cloth, awaiting the pyre.

So with the rising and settling of the sun upon its midday perch came the burning of the deceased. Hagus the barkeep was among them, along with more than a hundred Eldalonian soldiers, and hundreds of villagers. The survivors—hundreds of widows and children, and a few lucky men—made a wide circle around the great pyre. Some hung their heads, while others looked to the heavens proudly. All wept. Someone in the crowd took up the Eldalonian funeral song as the flames were lit, and quickly the song was taken up by all. As the words rose to the heavens, and the voices of the many women and children grew stronger, tears found the eyes of the watching companions.

Rest now, my love, till we meet again

Under the tree of the gods, I’ll see, my old friend

Rest now, my friend, your work here is through

Until my song is sung, when I shall be with you

Wait for me, love, and watch over me

Help me to remember what kind of person to be

Life may bring pain, like a cold winter rain

This sorrow will be mine till we meet again

The song went on and was taken up by not only the companions but also by the two elves. It went for the customary seven verses, and ended with the throwing of many flowers into the great Pyre. Rhunis stepped forward with shimmering eyesand spoke for the dead.

“Today we say farewell to the many good people who died defending those they loved. We say farewell to true heroes. In a time when that word is spoken too freely, we see firsthand its intended meaning all too clearly. The spirits that rise from the ashes this day are heroes by right and by deed. For none cowered before the nightmare that closed in on this fair village this day’s eve. None failed in their duty to kin and country; none ran when to do so would have saved them. No! They fought on, against all odds, and against the most terrible foe imaginable.”

He walked the circle of the pyre as he spoke, looking every woman, man, and child in the eye. His voice was heard by all as the fire burned fiercely behind him.

“So when someone asks you of the one you lost, you tell them they fought and died valiantly in the Battle of Sherna, and you speak those words with your head held high.

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