Champions of the Gods by Michael James Ploof Read Free Book Online Page B

his hammer because a few would use them as clubs? You have taken my power, yet you still possess yours. Who has deemed you worthy of such a gift? I held the power of a god in my hands and I let it go. But still you do not trust me to wield it responsibly. You would rather see me kneel before you. You would see me as your tool. And you would use me as a weapon. You, Lady Kellallea, are no better than any of us.”
    “I will not allow you to become the charge that ignites this world. I will kill you first.”
    “You cannot kill me,” said Whill. “Lest you open the floodgates for the gods to intervene.”
    Her expression soured, and Whill nodded slowly, knowingly. “I have been listening. I know that you cannot intervene. For every time that you do, you allow the other gods as much influence over their subjects.”
    “You think that you are clever, but you are not. You are arrogant like all the other humans before you,” said Kellallea.
    “Your influence over me will wane. You cannot hold back the tides whilst keeping me caged. Soon your strength will fail.”
    Kellallea burst into flame and doubled in size. She loomed over Whill. From her side she unsheathed a glowing blade and brought it back.
    Whill stared defiantly into her eyes, silently daring her to strike.
    Her body tensed. He thought the blow would come at any moment.
    But then she relaxed. She sheathed her fiery blade.
    “You do not know what you are meddling with, mortal! You see yourself as a hero, but you are the harbinger of death.”
    “You have lost this battle, Lady Kellallea. Speak of it no more. You ask for my fealty, and when I refuse, you try to gain it through lies. You say that magic is a curse, yet you wish to seize it all. If it is true what you say, that the gods wish to destroy this world, then I will work with you to defeat them. But I will not become your tool. I will never swear fealty to you.”
    “Then this is farewell, for now, Whillhelm Warcrown. I shall find another who might accept my gifts. As the other gods have done, I must now arm my people with the power that they need to defend themselves.”
    “You do what you have to do, and so will I,” said Whill.
    Kellallea offered him one last disappointed glance. Then she was gone.
    Whill sat on the sofa, staring at the fire and thinking of all he had learned. He didn’t know the lies from the truth, but he felt as though Kellallea had been forthright with him. It made sense. He was first healed by the queen of elves when he was an infant. In healing Whill, Araveal had given him the ability to heal. Then, much later when he met Zerafin and Avriel, he began to exhibit other powers.
    A mimic, Whill mused.
    If it was true, then he would not be able to heal himself again until he came in contact with someone with healing powers—assuming that Kellallea stopped interfering with him.
    Roakore. If I meet with him again, I should absorb his power to move stone at least.
    Whill was becoming excited by the prospect. Finally he was beginning to understand his power. It was ironic to him that the god of man had blessed him with such an ability, whilst Whill did not worship him.
    “Guard!”
    The door opened, and one stood at attention inside the room. “Yes, sire!”
    “Summon my scribe at once.”
    “Yes, sire.”
    Whill had a letter drawn up for Roakore, asking him to meet at his earliest convenience. With the power of the dwarves, Whill would be able to take back the north easily.

Chapter 7
The Blessed of Drakkar
     
     
    Reshikk sat perched on the rim of the smoldering volcano. With the rising of the sun he gave a fierce roar that rumbled throughout the island like rolling thunder.
    “Father of Dragons! I have gathered a terror of dragons as Agora has never known. Hundreds of eggs have been laid in the birthing chambers. We stand before you now, your servants, ready to exact your will upon the world.”
    He waited, horned head bowed low.
    You have done well, Reshikk the Green. Soon