Whill of Agora: Book 1 Legends of Agora

The full moon lingered like a magnificent pearl in an ocean of black. Fresh snow gave a faint crunch as the riders’ horses made their way down the old road. Cold, tired, and hungry, Whill and Abram rode silently toward Fendale.

Usually, they would make camp with the setting of the sun, but not tonight. The storm they had encountered the previous two days had set them back many hours.

“We should still be in time for the Winter’s End Celebration,” Will said.

“As long as we do not wander into another of those damned storms, we should be plenty early,” answered Abram as he scoured the woods. Something was on his mind, but Whill did not bother wondering what; he had thoughts of his own, like the feast they would enjoy the next night, and the music. The Winter’s End Celebration of Fendale was always a great treat. It had been going on as long as anyone could remember. People came from all surrounding towns and villages to take part. Abram had brought Whill when he was only eleven years old, and Whill had marveled at all the dancers, jugglers, acrobats, and animal tamers that had performed. The knights of Eldalon had put on a mock battle, and Whill sat in awe for hours watching them dual and joust. He had read their history in the books Abram had given him as a young child. To see them in person had been a surreal experience. The celebration had lasted all day and long into the night. The food had been fit for kings, and the children had received candy. Whill, now nineteen years old, was no less excited than he had been when he was eleven.

“Do you think that King Mathus will attend this year?” wondered Whill. Abram did not reply. He lifted his hand, motioning Whill to stop. While gently slowed his horse and was about to ask what was wrong when Abram put a finger to his lips.

Whill surveyed the surrounding forest but saw only the silhouettes of trees and the darkness beyond. Pine branches bent under the weight of the snow, as did the birches, which in some spots bowed down almost to the road. It was a world of white and black, shadows and moonlight. Minutes passed, but still, neither saw nor heard anything. He looked over at Abram, who sat like a statue upon his steed. Something indeed was wrong. Abram was not suffering from his usual excess of paranoia; it was too quiet. Lost in his thoughts of Fendale, Whill had not noticed until now. In an almost inaudible whisper, Abram told him to ready his bow. He did so as silently as he could, with a sudden and intense feeling that someone was watching, waiting. He resisted the urge to turn and look and sat as still as he could— bow in hand, his arrow ready. Abram had also readied his bow, and with a quick dart of his eyes, indicated a part of the woods in front and to the left of them. Whill peered at the spot and, at first, saw nothing; then he spotted sudden movement beyond the trees. It was a strange black shape, quick and silent, darting from behind one tree to hide behind another. It moved like a shadow, and Will would have mistaken it for one if not for the moonlight reflected in its eyes. Whill’s horse whined and began to stir, now alert to some danger. With a jerk Abram turned to scowl at the scared beast, and as he did the forest erupted with movement.

Abram hollered, “Ride, boy, ride!”

His heart hammering in his ears, Whill kicked the flanks of the horse, which was eager to comply. As it began to speed into a full gallop, Whill saw five black wolves dart out of the woods in front of them with alarming speed. Without looking he knew that more raced at them from behind. Before he could think he let loose an arrow at the closest wolf. With a cry the beast went headfirst into the snow, the arrow protruding from its neck. Even before the blood could flow, Whill had pulled another arrow, and Abram took down another of the approaching pack.

Instead of scaring the remaining beasts, the fall of the two wolves only seemed to infuriate them. Baring teeth, they charged ever faster toward the riders. In unison, Whill and Abram let loose their arrows and dropped the two closest wolves. Will reached for another arrow to take down the last wolf when suddenly two more jumped at Abram’s horse. Teeth snapping, they bit fiercely at its legs. A terrible cry issued from the horse as yet another wolf attacked; distracted by the others, they had not seen it coming. The wolf jumped, its jaws snapping at the face of Whill’s horse. He struggled to stay mounted and lost hold of his bow as the horse reared, almost throwing him to the ground. Alert to his trouble, Abram shot the wolf in the side as it rebounded and prepared to lunge once more. Whill was now facing the right side of Abram’s horse, his lips.

Whill surveyed the surrounding forest but saw only the silhouettes of trees and the darkness beyond. Pine branches bent under the weight of the snow, as did the birches, which in some spots bowed down almost to the road. It was a world of white and black, shadows and moonlight. Minutes passed, but still, neither saw nor heard anything. He looked over at Abram, who sat like a statue upon his steed. Something indeed was wrong. Abram was not suffering from his usual excess of paranoia; it was too quiet. Lost in his thoughts of Fendale, Whill had not noticed until now. In an almost inaudible whisper, Abram told him to ready his bow. He did so as silently as he could, with a sudden and intense feeling that someone was watching, waiting. He resisted the urge to turn and look and sat as still as he could— bow in hand, his arrow ready. Abram had also readied his bow, and with a quick dart of his eyes, indicated a part of the woods in front and to the left of them. Whill peered at the spot and, at first, saw nothing; then he spotted sudden movement beyond the trees. It was a strange black shape, quick and silent, darting from behind one tree to hide behind another. It moved like a shadow, and Will would have mistaken it for one if not for the moonlight reflected in its eyes. Whill’s horse whined and began to stir, now alert to some danger. With a jerk Abram turned to scowl at the scared beast, and as he did the forest erupted with movement.