The Final Storm

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  Robby sighed. “No, Aidan. I don’t think I want to look at those again. I know that story very well already.”

  It seemed to Aidan that the air inside the fort became chill. The shadows behind Robby seemed to grow. At last Robby said, “Aidan, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

  There was, in the way that he said it, a tone that made Aidan wish he had sat closer to the fort’s door. Aidan turned to his friend, and there was suddenly an eerie confidence about Robby that hadn’t been there just moments ago. “What is it, Robby?”

  Robby took a deep breath. “The night you left for Colorado,” he began, “I waited until Mama and Jill went to sleep, and I took off.”

  “You what?”

  “I left—ran away, or at least I meant to. Kinda stupid, really. I didn’t even pack anything. I walked outta my house with a jean jacket on my back and about fifteen dollars in my wallet. But I didn’t care what happened. I just wanted to get away, so I left.”

  “Why’d you do that?” Aidan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Robby replied. “I was mad, I guess. Mad that you had to move. Mad that my life never felt good for long. Mad at everything.” He laughed. “I ran all the way up that old path near the school. You remember the one where we found all those bottles that one time? Well, I stood there in the middle of the night and just went off on the bottles. I smashed ’em with rocks, hurled them at tree trunks—all the while, screaming like some kind of loony!”

  Aidan stared.

  “And you know what, Aidan?” Robby asked, an eerie gleam in his eyes. “It felt good to bust up the bottles. Like I was getting back at every bad thing that ever happened to me. I got so charged up, I ran up to the bleachers behind the middle school and just lay there staring up at the stars. And for once, I felt like I was in control of things. That’s when I heard the voice.”

  Voice? Aidan thought.

  Robby explained. “I was thinking about you, about my dad, about all those things I wished would have never happened. And then this voice was just kinda there all of a sudden. ‘You do not have to be afraid, ever again,’ it said. And I sat up on the bleachers fast. ‘Who’s there?!’ I yelled, but no one answered. There wasn’t anyone around.

  “I was about ready to bolt, but then I heard it again. It was like bein’ broadcast into my head. ‘I will teach you to control your fears,’ it said. ‘I will teach you many things.’

  “I said, ‘Who are you?’

  “‘In time. For now, you need know only this . . . I am the Keeper of Power. In my hand I hold your future. If you choose, I will make you a champion, a leader, a conqueror. So that you may know that what I say is true, I will provide you three guarantees. The first in one week’s time.’

  “And then, Aidan, the voice was gone. I sprinted back home like my heels were on fire. But one week later, my soccer team won the regional championship. We beat the team from Ashburn, the one that hadn’t lost in three years. And I scored the winning goal! Aidan, it was like the voice promised—the first guarantee.” Aidan frowned.

  “I know, I was skeptical at first. But the second guarantee came right after that . . . my dad came back home. It was not luck. It was not coincidence. Dad knew all about the voice. He knew all about the Keeper of Power. You see, Aidan, I know about The Realm. My dad taught me all about it. And now, I’ve seen it, in my dreams. I know why you wanted me to read those scrolls of yours. But the thing is, Aidan, you’re on the wrong side.”

  13

  WHEN LIGHT AND

  DARK COLLIDE

  Robby’s comment blindsided Aidan. “What?” he blurted out.

  “It’s what you said in some of your emails,” Robby explained. “You said you side with Alleble and serve King Eliam. But King Eliam betrayed his people—even his most trusted friends, Aidan.”

  Aidan couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “No, Robby, that’s not true. King Eliam is noble and good. Paragor is The Betrayer!”

  “That’s the story you’ve been told, is it, Aidan?” Robby asked. “There are two sides to every story. See, the voice promised me a third guarantee. C’mon outside. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Robby rose to a crouch and exited the fort.

  Aidan emerged from the fort and found it strangely dark outside. Turbulent clouds raced overhead and the towering pines swayed in an unusually cold breeze. From the shadows of nearby trees strode a tall warrior. He was Glimpse-kind and wore the dark blue cape and bright silver armor of Alleble. He had no beard but had long gray hair laced with strands of black and a mustache that curled straight down to his jaw line.

  The warrior presented Robby with a long broadsword. “A gift from the master,” he said. His voice was rich, almost musical. “Better, would you not say, than the one you have been training with?”

  To Aidan’s amazement, Robby took the broadsword with both hands and carved a figure eight in the air. “Dad told me I’d be getting my own sword soon,” Robby said. “I just didn’t think it would be today.”

  “Do you like it?” the warrior asked.

  “It’s not as heavy as the trainer,” Robby answered. “But tell the master I love it!”

  “You shall tell him yourself soon enough,” said the warrior, and then he turned and bowed to Aidan.

  “Aidan, I’d like you to meet Count Eogan. He is a former ambassador from the Kingdom of Alleble. He’s going to tell you the real story about Paragor.”

  The Glimpse knight extended a pale hand. Aidan looked him in the eye, saw a glint of blue, and warily shook his hand. “Well-met, Sir Aidan,” the count said. “Ah, yes . . . I know your name well. Robby has told me all about you. But even had he not, I would have known you for your exploits in Mithegard and upon the Black Crescent.”

  Aidan stiffened. Couched within the compliment, Aidan felt a veiled accusation.

  “This must all be rather startling to you—learning that what you thought was truth . . . was not the whole story—very troubling, I’m sure,” said Count Eogan.

  Aidan was troubled, but not in the way that the count thought. He glanced at Robby and then back at Count Eogan. “You used to be an ambassador from Alleble?” Aidan asked.

  Count Eogan tilted his head, smiled, and nodded yes.

  Aidan squinted at the count. He wore the armor and colors of Alleble, and his eyes glinted blue, proving his devotion to King Eliam, but something seemed wrong. Gwenne’s warning came back to Aidan, and he asked, “Do you serve Paragor now?”

  “Nay, lad,” the count replied without hesitation. “I am true to Alleble and to King Eliam—only Alleble as it was intended to be and King Eliam as he once was. For that, even Paragor himself yearns.”

  “Count Eogan, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aidan said abruptly.

  “Well, that is for you to decide,” Count Eogan said. “But think on this, lad. You read The Scrolls of Alleble, the account of the Great Betrayal, did you not?”

  Aidan nodded yes.

  “When you entered The Realm, the Glimpses who befriended you did seem to corroborate the tale? Of course they did. But did you ever consider the possibility that they have all been deceived? What if they only believe those stories because that is all they have been fed since the day of their births?” Aidan was silent.

  “Come, lads,” Count Eogan said, holding out both arms. “Come and sit with me a moment and hear the story in full.”

  They sat upon two fallen trees spaced a few feet apart. Count Eogan and Robby on one tree, Aidan on the other. The Glimpse adjusted his sword and took in a deep breath. “The tale you have no doubt heard,” he began, “is that King Eliam was a noble ruler, fair in all his ways. Paragor was a trusted knight, the Sentinel even, who became corrupted by lust for gold and power and sought to overthrow his kindly sovereign. Was that not what you have been taught?”

  Aidan nodded slowly. The count smiled. “I tell you today that things went much differently. You see, it was King Eliam who became corrupt—not Paragor. Parago
r was Sentinel of Alleble. And he was wise, powerful, and fair to behold. Soon, dignitaries, ambassadors, even the famed Elder Guard began to seek Paragor’s advice instead of the King’s. All of this, the King simply could not bear.

  “One night, King Eliam gathered those whom he felt he could still trust. He inflamed them with talk of mutiny and treason. He sent twelve soldiers to slay Paragor while he slept. Then he had the Elder Guard and their families rounded up in the middle of the night and made ready to execute them. But Paragor was far too skilled to be caught in that kind of ambush. He slew his attackers and fled to Guard’s Keep. That was when Paragor made the hardest decision of his life. He loved King Eliam but could not bear to watch the innocent die. Paragor fought King Eliam along the parapets. Their duel was the fiercest in the history of The Realm. But in the end, Paragor was the better swordsman. He slew the King.

  “In a rage, the treasonous soldiers who served King Eliam set fire to the fountain, which was filled with oil, and watched all of the Elder Guard and their families die. To Paragor’s dismay, no one survived,” the count said, leaning closer to Aidan.

  Aidan looked puzzled, but the count continued: “That very night, Paragor discovered that King Eliam had taken to Black Arts, a sorcery so powerful that it could even bring back the dead. By those Black Arts, King Eliam returned and banished Paragor and those in Alleble who would not blindly follow the King’s rule.” Count Eogan leaned even closer to Aidan and spoke softly, like a mortiwraith charming its prey. “You see, Aidan, from that time on, the Glimpses of Alleble learned only the King’s version of the story. They believe that King Eliam is noble while Paragor is the traitor. Their faith is genuine, but . . . it is genuinely wrong.”

  The wind picked up and made strange whispering sounds in the pine needles above. Aidan looked up into the sky, and his eyes were glistening. Then he shut his eyes tight and bowed his head. This could not be true. King Eliam would not deceive his people. But still, if he had . . . I would never know. And Count Eogan’s eyes, they . . . THE EYES! Then he remembered. Acsriot.

  Slowly Aidan rose to his feet, glaring at the count. “No one survived?” Aidan said.

  The count stood and faced Aidan.

  “Give it up, lad,” Count Eogan said, all humor gone from his voice. “That is the true story of the Betrayal. You may not like it, but do not throw your life away for a lie.”

  Aidan’s eyes were determined. “Your story would be hard to refute, if, as you say, King Eliam made sure there was no one left in Alleble who witnessed the events of that night. But there was someone else who was there. Your master did not tell you of the ‘little runt’ who got away, did he?”

  “That . . . that is preposterous. All of the Elder Guard and their families died in the fire,” the count said.

  “Valithor escaped,” Aidan said. “He saw Paragor’s soldiers round up his mother and father and lead them to the fountain filled with oil. He saw Paragor execute King Eliam in cold blood. And he saw the Elder Guard and their families burned alive by Paragor’s command.”

  Robby’s mouth hung agape and he moved ever so slightly away from Count Eogan. “Do not believe this rubbish, Robby,” Count Eogan said. “This is more of King Eliam’s sorcery at work. Aidan, you do not know of what you speak. Valithor was the King’s closest ally. Why would you even consider trusting his story?”

  “Captain Valithor was the Glimpse of my grandfather,” Aidan said, advancing another step. “But even if I did not have a trusted firsthand account of the events of that evening, even then I could expose you for the liar you are.”

  “I will not stand for this insolence,” Count Eogan barked, and he drew a jagged blade from his sheath. “Aidan, you have clearly chosen your path in life. For this, I pity you!”

  Aidan eyed the count’s sword and took a step back, but he would not be silent. “You have called King Eliam, his greatest servants, and my grandfather evil. And you have put Paragor upon a white pedestal and made him into some noble hero. Robby, listen to me, and Count Eogan, refute me if you can: If your master is so good and noble, his deeds would match, wouldn’t they?

  “I saw Paragor’s armies unleash a deadly attack on Mithegard, a kingdom that had done nothing to provoke warfare. I watched his forces rain poison-tipped arrows down on innocent Glimpse men, women, and children as they sought shelter from the skies. I watched as Lord Rucifel ordered his knights to plunder that city and then burn it to the ground.”

  “Robby, this upstart is more bewitched than I feared. There will be no turning him. Aidan is the enemy, and he must be . . . dealt with.”

  Count Eogan let his cape fall to the ground and strode forward. He raised his blade and whispered something in a language Aidan had never heard. Suddenly, the count’s sword burst into flame and he slashed it at Aidan’s right side. Aidan dodged it easily and maintained his distance from his foe.

  Robby stood near the fort. His eyes were restless and he seemed to debate within himself. “Stop,” he said quietly, but then yelled, “Stop! Don’t hurt him!”

  “Nonsense, Robby,” the count replied, continuing to stalk Aidan. “You know the first Principle of Power: You have to take what you want! Your so-called friend stands in your way.”

  The count slashed again, a short, measured attack at Aidan’s feet. Aidan leaped and then fell backward. Fire lingered briefly on his shoe and pant leg. Aidan stomped at it until it went out.

  “Oh yes, young knight,” the count said, sneering. “The flames are hungry! Beware of them.” Count Eogan pushed the fiery tip of his sword into the boughs of a nearby pine. Instantly, gray smoke sifted out from the center of the tree. A few licks of fire poked out and began to climb. Fire quickly engulfed the trunk—spreading to the fort’s roof. Aidan scrambled backward and leaped to his feet, barely ducking a vicious swipe meant for his head.

  “Stop now!” Robby yelled. He raised the sword Count Eogan had given him. But the count did not stop. He slashed the flaming sword blade at Aidan’s neck, missed, and sheared off a huge bough from one of the pines. Fire leaped to that tree as well. The clearing began to fill with smoke and the smell of burning pine.

  Aidan ducked and dodged, always keeping the trees between himself and his attacker, but he was tiring. And the count’s swordcraft was strong. There was no way he could elude his strokes for much longer. The flaming blade swept again overhead and then crushed a stump near Aidan’s shoulder. Aidan stumbled, turned to run, but then found himself backed up against the burning fort. Count Eogan’s thin lips turned upward in a ghoulish smile. “Now,” he said, sneering, “you will burn for the offenses that you have brought against the master.”

  From behind Aidan there came a strange sound. Several loud snaps as if from a bullwhip. A gust of wind washed over Aidan, and the flames on the count’s sword went out.

  Aidan felt a strange pulling sensation envelop his body, like a strong undertow in the ocean. And then, Aidan’s skin began to tingle. It felt like something prickly was crawling down his forearms. Aidan stood very still, feeling the pulling and prickling all over his body. And when Aidan looked down at his arms and hands, they began to fade. It’s happening! I’m being pulled to The Thread!

  Count Eogan knew what was happening to Aidan, and he knew that he had just moments before Aidan would be gone. He drove his long blade straight for Aidan’s chest. But Robby swept through with his own broadsword and smashed Count Eogan’s blade with such force, and from such an unexpected angle, it wrenched free from his hands and slammed to the ground. The count looked at Robby with utter malice. He drew two daggers from his belt and came at Robby.

  But Robby was too fast and too strong. He dropped to one knee and carved a two-handed stroke across Count Eogan’s midsection. The count stopped suddenly, dropped the daggers, and clutched his ruined stomach. Blood poured out between his pale fingers, and he fell to the dirt.

  Robby cast his blade down and turned to Aidan. But Aidan was barely there. A strange, wavering version of Aidan’s voice
said, “Robby, I knew you’d come through!”

  Robby reached for his friend.

  “Wait! Don’t touch me!” Aidan yelled urgently. “You’ll get shocked.”

  Robby pulled back his hand. “Aidan, what’s happening to you?”

  Aidan smiled. “I’m going back!”

  “To The Realm?” Robby asked. “Now?” Aidan nodded yes.

  “But Aidan, you can’t leave now!” Robby looked back at the prone form of Count Eogan and then down at his own hands. “Aidan, don’t go. I’m afraid.”

  “I’m being drawn in!” Aidan said. “I . . . it’s not the same as the first time. I don’t think I could stop if I tried. But Robby, do you understand what I’ve been trying to tell you? Seek King Eliam! Seek him now, Robby!”

  “I don’t know, Aidan,” Robby said miserably. “I . . . I can’t. The master promised me so many things. He brought my dad back. I don’t know!”

  Aidan faded out almost entirely for a moment, and Robby could see the fire continuing to spread. It burned in several places, climbing up the pines, crawling hungrily from tree to tree. The smell of smoke was thick and hot in the air. The fires crackled and hissed. Then Aidan was there again. His lips moved, but at first Robby couldn’t tell what he was saying. “. . . your father,” Aidan said. “Rucifel. Robby!”

  And suddenly, there was a blinding flash and a sharp crack of thunder. Robby fell backward and covered his eyes. When he looked up, Aidan was gone.

  Hot air surged over Robby. He stood up. Robby knew if he didn’t go soon, he would never leave. “Where are you?!” Robby screamed, watching the flames dance among the pine trees. How had everything, once again, gone wrong? Tears streamed down his face as he whispered, “You said I’d never have to be afraid. You said you’d make me powerful.”

  From somewhere overhead there came a tremendous crack, and a huge burning limb fell on top of the fort’s roof. Robby jolted, spun around, and finally recognized the danger. He started to run, but something made him look back. The plywood square that covered the fort’s entrance had fallen off. There, just barely visible, was Aidan’s backpack.