The Final Storm

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  “The sword,” Antoinette mumbled. “How?”

  “That Ebenezer is a miserly old fool.” Kearn smiled. “But in the end, my knights were able to persuade him to accept my generous offer of gold. They returned from Baen-Edge with it. I was going to keep it mounted on my chamber wall, a memento to remind me of a worthy opponent. But when the master revealed his plans for you . . . well, then I had a different thought.”

  Antoinette wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.

  “I am going to give you your sword,” he said. “It will not cut your chains, nor will it open the locks that bind you. But no warrior should be killed by an executioner’s axe, dying like some common criminal. No, you keep your sword. Hide it under this cloth in the corner of your cell. And when at last the walls of Alleble have fallen and Paragor sends his guards for you . . . unleash your blade. Fight like you never have before, and take out as many of them as you can. Die well in battle. A true warrior deserves as much.”

  Kearn bowed to Antoinette and went to hand the sword to her. But suddenly a blast from a war horn rang out, and Antoinette turned to the window of her cell. In that moment, she heard the clatter of metal hitting stone and she jumped. Antoinette turned and whispered, “Kearn?” But he did not answer. He was gone from the cell, vanished as if he had never been there at all. Only her sword remained. Antoinette thought she knew where he had gone, but she wondered what that could mean.

  Antoinette lunged toward the sword that lay beyond the bars. She stretched and pulled at the chains, but she could not reach the sword. Remembering the ring, she sat down in the center of the cell and began to twist it. The one loose metal band slithered out several inches. Antoinette slid it into the keyhole of the lock that held her ankle chains. She fished it around for a long time, until she felt something inside give a little. She threaded another inch of the metal band in, and then twisted it. Click! The lock opened!

  Antoinette yanked the chains loose from the floor and dragged them to the bar. This time she had easily enough reach. She grabbed the Daughter of Light and drew it into her cell. It felt like meeting an old friend, and she hefted the blade in each hand. She placed it nearby and went to work on the locks at her wrists and ankles. With some effort, they each came free. The only lock left was the one on the cell door. Antoinette didn’t think the riddle ring’s metal band was strong enough for that.

  But before she could make an attempt, a wailing howl rose up from outside. Antoinette covered her ears and fell to her knees. The sound rose in pitch and at last trailed off. She had heard that mournful cry before on the Forest Road.

  Antoinette stepped to the window and looked out. She squinted and rubbed at her eyes, for she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. Far down on the Grimwalk, near the base of the Prince’s Crown, something dark began to creep. It was like shadowy tentacles at first, but then it began to gush forth from within the mountains. It spread and became like a dark fog bank, slowly advancing across the Grimwalk.

  Then Antoinette heard other sounds. She looked to the left. What she saw made her blood run cold. Below, filling every path and marching along every bridge and rampart, was an endless army of soldiers. Thousands upon thousands they marched forward, eventually disappearing into the mists upon the Grimwalk. The flow of soldiers did not slow. This army was ten times those she’d seen before, and there was nothing but greater numbers behind them as far as she could see.

  Antoinette knew where they were going. These soldiers were bound for Alleble. Paragor’s attack was about to begin.

  21

  A FATHER TO

  THE FATHERLESS

  Robby hoisted Aidan’s backpack behind him and made his way home, his mind spinning. He sighed with relief when he saw that his father’s sleek black sports car was gone. Robby crept into his house. There was no sign of anyone, so he ran upstairs to his room, shut and locked the door, and lay down on the bed.

  Is it possible that everything Dad taught me about The Realm, about Paragor, is a lie? Robby turned onto his back and looked up at his shelves crammed with trophies. He saw the tall state championship trophy, delivered by his gamewinning goal. He thought of his father returning after so many years. He thought of Count Eogan coming to earth. Paragor’s three guarantees had all come true! That’s got to mean something.

  Then he thought of Aidan. Robby had never had a friend like Aidan before. Not in all the years in Florida, not on any of his sports teams. Never. All those other kids that called themselves friends—Robby knew they just hung around because he was good-looking and very good at every sport he ever tried. Fashion friends. That’s all they were.

  Aidan, on the other hand, took the time to get to know Robby. He listened when Robby was feeling down. Robby grinned. Aidan wouldn’t care if I looked like a catfish on a bad hair day or I couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a baseball. He’d still be there for me.

  But Aidan hadn’t been there when Robby needed him. He had moved. Once again, Robby had been hurt by someone he trusted. Paragor had promised to give Robby power enough so that no one would ever hurt him again. And Paragor had brought his father back. Robby could not ignore that.

  But as much as Robby wanted to be powerful—invulnerable even—he could not dismiss what he had just seen. Aidan had shown Count Eogan’s stories for what they were: lies. Aidan really had been to The Realm. Robby could tell by the changes in Aidan’s personality—his confidence, his attitude, his actions. And Aidan had seen things that Count Eogan could not refute. Robby just couldn’t make his mind stop spinning.

  Then, as if painted in large letters on the side of a building, came an answer: the Scrolls. Robby grabbed up Aidan’s backpack, started to open it, but stopped and looked at his bedroom door. He knew the consequences would be severe if his father caught him reading Aidan’s Scrolls. No, he thought. I’ll hear Dad’s car pull up. I’ll just stash the Scrolls if he comes home.

  Robby took out the Scrolls and untied the leather lace that bound them. He stared down at the first line:

  Outside of time and place,

  there is a realm of

  great nobility and renown.

  As Robby began to read, he felt a peculiar sense of nostalgia, like after being away on a long trip he had finally come back home. Line after line, page after page, his excitement grew. But then he came to the story of a brave young knight, rising through the ranks to become one of King Eliam’s elite Elder Guard. It was the story of Paragal, the King’s most favored.

  Something came over Robby as he began to read the account. He found that he couldn’t focus. His vision blurred. And then Robby’s eyelids fell, and his mind’s eye wandered far away. A picture began to emerge. There was a handsome young knight seated at a table in a very small chamber. Behind him were shelves piled high with innumerable rolls of parchment. As Robby stared, the picture became remarkably clear, more like a window.

  Robby’s door flew open so hard that it slammed into the wall. Robby jumped up, scattering pages of parchment.

  “What are you doin’, son?” Robby’s father asked, his jaws so firmly set they appeared to bulge. “And why was your door locked?”

  Robby shook his head and retreated until his back hit the wall on the other side of the bed. “I . . . I have Aidan’s Scrolls,” he whispered, trying desperately to summon more courage. “I was reading them.”

  “I thought I made it clear you were not to see Aidan again.” Robby grabbed up all the loose pages and clutched them to his chest.

  Mr. Pierson glared at his son. “Give those to me right now, Robby!”

  Robby swallowed and stood to face the man in his room. “I know what happened in Alleble that night,” Robby said quietly. “Aidan saw it. And now, I’ve seen it. I know that Paragor plotted behind King Eliam’s back and murdered him and his Elder Guard. And at last, I know that everything you ever told me about The Realm is a lie!”

  Mr. Pierson raised a fist, but Robby was too fast. He ducked the blow, slipped out of his room, and
swiftly pulled the door shut behind him. Then, Scrolls in hand, he bounded down the stairs and out the front door. Mr. Pierson slammed open the bedroom door and leaped down after him. But by the time Mr. Pierson strode out into the front yard, Robby was on his bike and a hundred yards down the street.

  “You won’t get away, Robby!” Mr. Pierson screamed. “Paragor will find you!”

  Robby pedaled with all his might. At the turn in the road, Robby tried to jump the curb. But he didn’t make it. His shins and elbows burning from new scrapes, he stood up and saw that the bike chain was broken.

  Not knowing what else to do, Robby grabbed up the Scrolls and sprinted into the woods.

  The sun was just about gone, so when Robby disappeared under the canopy of trees, he found himself in a landscape of shadows. Gnarled trees with grasping branches rose up on both sides of the narrow path. Unseen briers ripped at his pant legs. Invisible spiderwebs caught in his face and mouth. Still, Robby ran on! Not knowing where he was going—just running . . . escaping. Then a voice inside his head said . . .

  “There is nowhere for you to hide. You cannot escape me. You are mine.”

  Robby’s heart hammered against his rib cage as he sprinted up the path recklessly. His gait, normally graceful and athletic, was now awkward, frantic, even crazed.

  “I will never let go of you. I am always waiting, even in death.”

  “No, stop it! Get out of my head! Stop!” Robby tripped over a root and flew headfirst into a thicket of briers. His face stung from a dozen fresh scratches and his body ached. He clutched the Scrolls and curled up at the base of a tree, staring out into the dark woods.

  A great winged shadow rose up among the trees, and Robby heard the cracking of branches. This thing was getting closer.

  Robby shook uncontrollably. From the shadows came a long hissing intake of breath and then a deep, angry growl.

  “Please, King Eliam . . . ,” Robby cried. “I . . . I don’t know if you’re out there! I don’t know if it’s too late, but please help me.”

  No sooner were those pleading words spoken than there was a blinding flash of blue light up ahead. The creature roared, but the roar was cut short by a crack of thunder. And then, all was still.

  Robby’s mind raced, and he wondered what had happened. Had King Eliam rescued him? Robby tried to remember everything Aidan ever told him about the King of Alleble. But the thought that kept coming to his mind was to look at the Scrolls.

  Robby stared at the Scrolls. It was impossible. Too dark to see anything. But then Robby felt a tingle in his right hand. And suddenly that page of parchment began to shimmer. Words began to appear written in bright golden light, as if an invisible hand was writing upon the Scroll.

  Line after line appeared until, at last, there was a glowing block of text right there in front of Robby. He gasped and began to read:

  There are passages and doors

  And realms that lie unseen.

  There are roads both wide and narrow

  And no avenue between.

  Doors remain closed for those

  Who in sad vanity yet hide.

  Yet when belief is chosen,

  The key appears inside.

  What is lived now will soon pass,

  And what is not, will come to be.

  The Door Within must open,

  For one to truly see.

  A poem! Robby thought. Aidan had said something about a poem. But it’s like a riddle. What is “The Door Within”?

  Then, as before, in glistening golden light, two new lines of text appeared.

  Do you see?

  Believe and enter.

  Yes! Robby thought. I want to enter! I want to go where Aidan went. I want to get out of here right now!

  He waited a few heartbeats, wondering if King Eliam would just suddenly appear and whisk him off to The Realm. Nothing happened, and that, Robby thought, meant there was more to figure out.

  Robby had never been very good at riddles. Still, he felt passion stirring inside, and he wanted desperately to understand. Realms that lie unseen—that’s got to be The Realm, he thought. Doors remain closed for those who in sad vanity yet hide. Robby knew that vanity was kind of like being conceited or prideful. His sister Jill and her constant primping came suddenly to mind.

  “But no,” he voiced his thoughts aloud to the Scrolls. “I’m the one who’s been hiding, aren’t I, King Eliam? Aidan tried to tell me about you, but I didn’t listen. My dad came home, and I bought every one of his lies just because I wanted a father again. I figured I was finally getting life to go my way. Now look at me. I feel more powerless now than I ever have in my whole life, and I still don’t have a father!”

  “My power can work through your weakness.” A voice spoke to Robby. Not the raspy, condemning voice he’d heard before. No, this voice felt warm and somehow wholesome. There was safety in this voice—and understanding. “No servant of Alleble will remain fatherless.”

  Tears streaked down Robby’s face, and he stood up. The terrors of the woods were gone—vanished like storm clouds driven by strong wind. When belief is chosen, the key appears inside. It was all starting to make sense. One by one, the answers to the riddle began to appear.

  “I choose to believe in you!” Robby cried aloud. “I want the key!”

  A warm breeze flowed over him, and he stared down again at the golden text upon the Scroll. What is lived now will soon pass, and what is not, will come to be. Robby felt a yearning, an aching of his heart to let everything go—to leave all the frustrations, fear, and loneliness behind. To throw himself on the mercy of King Eliam and be a servant of Alleble.

  The Door Within must open, for one to truly see. The final piece of the puzzle became as clear to Robby as the dazzling golden text upon the Scroll. I need to enter a door inside me! he thought excitedly, and he closed his eyes.

  At first, Robby tried to imagine a picture of a door, but soon he simply relaxed and let his mind wander. The darkness lifted and before him was a cliff. A narrow, rickety-looking plank and rope bridge extended out over a chasm of unknowable depth and disappeared into the white haze far away.

  Robby pictured himself approaching the bridge, and somehow it was clearer in his mind’s eye than anything he had ever imagined before. He looked warily down at the foundation of the bridge, staked down to the cliff. It seemed secure, as if it had been there for many ages past and would be there for many ages to come. Robby took a step closer, and peered over the edge. The distance fell away so quickly that Robby caught his breath and hurriedly stepped backward.

  It was silly, Robby thought, to be afraid of something that he had just conjured up in his imagination. But there was little comfort in that thought, for the bridge—and the potential to fall—began to feel more real than the woods on the edge of his neighborhood. Tentatively, Robby reached back with his free hand to feel the large tree that should be behind him. But there was nothing behind him.

  The bridge beckoned, and Robby knew he must cross.

  22

  THE DOOR WITHIN

  Agentle breeze played with Robby’s long blond hair as he stepped out on the bridge. With the Scrolls clutched in one hand, he used the other hand to grip the rope guides and bring his other foot out as well. Slowly, one tentative foot after another, being sure not to look down, he made his way across. But the whole time, his legs were shaking and unsteady. C’mon, Robby! he berated himself. Get a grip. You’re a star athlete. This should be easy!

  But it was anything but easy. Sweat poured down his face, his throat dried up, and he felt his stomach twisting in knots. And even though the planks beneath his feet had not even so much as creaked, Robby had a constant, nagging fear that his next step might break a board, and he would fall through . . . fall into nothingness.

  He quickened his pace—all the while staring ahead into the haze for some sign of where the bridge might end. It seemed to go on and on, and Robby certainly wasn’t going to try to look back over his shoulder to see
how far he’d come.

  The wind picked up, and the bridge began to sway. Robby shook so hard he had to stop and crouch down. The wind increased even more, howling and gusting at times. “No!” he cried out, but it was too late. The wind took the Scrolls right out of his hand. He watched them fly away, and then he shut his eyes.

  Robby wanted to turn around and run back to the safety of the ledge where he’d begun. Slowly he stood, and the idea came into his mind that if he turned back and made it to the cliff, he could open his eyes and find himself back in the woods near his neighborhood. His old life would still be there waiting.

  “But I don’t want that old life,” Robby said aloud. He knew all too well the kind of life it would be. A life of uncertainty, a life of fear—his biological father would see to that, he felt sure. C’mon, Robby, let’s get going.

  He took a step. Then another. The wind shrieked and the bridge swayed, but Robby held the guide ropes and coached himself as he pressed on. Four years of gymnastics—I’ve got good balance. Nine years of baseball, football, and soccer—I’ve got the strength.

  He felt a subtle change in the incline. The bridge had bottomed out and now began to climb. I’m doing it! Robby thought excitedly. I’m going to make it!

  He walked faster, with more confidence, and his hold on the guide ropes wasn’t as severe. He even released his grip a couple of times and walked more casually. The incline steepened, and Robby was so pleased with his efforts that he ventured to look over the side. Just once.

  His left foot slid off the side of one of the planks. His right knee buckled, and he fell. All Robby’s worst fears came rushing back. Frantically, he grabbed the left guide rope with both hands. But his hands slipped off.

  As his body fell below the bridge, Robby grabbed the planks with both hands. He felt the tendons in his hands protest, and his fingernails felt ready to rip right off the ends of his fingers. But still he hung on.