The Final Storm

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  “What was that all about?” Robby asked.

  “Oh, well . . . they do not often see beings from the Mirror Realm,” Kaliam replied. “Especially one so handsome and knightly as yourself.” Robby laughed, but he wondered if that was all there was to it.

  After many winding passages and several flights of stairs, they turned a corner and Robby gasped. “I have never seen anything like that before!” he said, staring up at the great white stone faces of mountains.

  “Pennath Ador!” Kaliam exclaimed. “The Mountains of Glory! It is said that when the first rays of the dawn sun shine between those snowy peaks that great glory will be won by those who are pure of heart!”

  “Righ-ight,” was Robby’s only response. The mountains were dizzying in their immense grandeur, and somewhere in the back of Robby’s heart he wondered what it might be like to find some winding path and attempt to scale them.

  “Here we are!” Kaliam announced. Robby beheld a network of wooden fences, several archery ranges, and a large field and pavilion that reminded him of a racetrack.

  “These are the private training yards of the Elder Guard, the most highly skilled warriors in all of Alleble. Most of them,” Kaliam said, glancing northward, “are on a very important mission in the Blue Mountain Provinces. So we ought to have the yard pretty much to ourselves.”

  “Will you tell me what my mission is now?” Robby asked.

  “In time,” Kaliam said as they entered a fenced-in ring. “I would test you first on the training urchin, but alas, it is under repair. So we will just have to give it a go the old-fashioned way. King Eliam told me that you have considerable skill with a blade. Is this so?”

  “I guess I’m pretty good,” Robby replied. “But I don’t really know how I compare to the other Knights of Alleble. I was trained—”

  “By your father,” Kaliam finished the sentence. “He is the human twin of Lord Rucifel, Paragor’s right hand. Yes, I know. Rucifel’s swordcraft is lethal, but we shall see.”

  Robby twisted and leaned to test the limits of his armor. “My father said I was a little better than a beginner, but Count Eogan said that I am a gifted swordsman. I think he was just tryin’ to flatter me.”

  “Did you say Eogan?” Kaliam asked.

  Robby nodded. “Did you know him?” Robby asked, looking afraid. “He said he was a former ambassador from Alleble.”

  “I did not know him,” Kaliam said. “We have had dealings with Count Eogan, and he certainly was no ambassador of ours. Masquerading as one of us, Eogan stirred up quite a bit of trouble with our allies. If only I could get my hands on that scoundrel.”

  Robby looked downward. “You won’t see him again.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Kaliam asked.

  “I . . . I killed him.”

  “Why?” Kaliam asked.

  “He tried to stop Aidan from entering The Realm. I had no choice. He would have killed Aidan.”

  “Oh,” Kaliam replied. “Well, I am glad Eogan’s treachery has come to an end, but I am sorry for the ordeal you have been through. Just remember, we are at war with Paragor and his allies. What you did was just.”

  “I know,” Robby said, and he turned back to his Sentinel. “But I don’t like to kill.”

  “Neither do I, Robby, neither do I,” said Kaliam.

  “Sir Kaliam, don’t you get used to killing?” Robby asked.

  “No. No true servant of Alleble does. We fight to defend our land and our allies. We slay when we have no other choice,” Kaliam said.

  Robby stared at the mountains. Kaliam’s uneasy feeling around Robby had strengthened. Can I really trust a former servant of the enemy? The thought just imposed itself in Kaliam’s mind. But he immediately shook it away. After all, he mused, I did propose marriage to a former servant of the enemy! And Robby had shown no signs of duplicity or hidden evil—just the opposite, actually. Still, I will feel much better when Robby has made the good confession.

  At last, Kaliam dragged a barrel out of the center of the ring. “These are not the finest swords in the land,” he said to Robby with a wink. “But they are far better than the first weapon Aidan ever used. Now, choose a blade.”

  Robby went to the barrel and sorted through the weapons. He took out several—all broadswords—but one at a time he put them back. Growing frustrated, he finally settled on one. He carved a swift two-fisted C-shape in the air and frowned. “Don’t you have anything heavier?”

  “Heavier than that?” Kaliam asked. “That is a claymore!”

  Robby smiled apologetically. “I like the length,” he said. “But it just doesn’t seem like it’ll pack the punch I’m used to.”

  “What is wrong with the sword?” came a gruff voice from behind the fence, and presently Kindle, the armory keeper, and Lady Merewen appeared.

  “The lad has a claymore,” Kaliam replied. “And he says it is not heavy enough for him.”

  “Really?” Kindle whistled. “You must be a mighty lad to wield a heavier weapon than that.”

  “M’lord,” Lady Merewen said, “why not let Robby try your sword? It should be heavy enough.”

  “It would indeed!” Kindle hacked a laugh. “Last time I tried to handle that, I thought my shoulders would pop from their sockets!”

  Reluctantly, Kaliam drew his grand broadsword. He presented it to Robby grip-first and said, “If it is too heavy for you, I will search the other barrels in the yard. I am sure we can find—”

  “No, this is great!” Robby said, and he turned and whipped Kaliam’s blade toward the fence, stopping within an inch of striking it. “I like this, Sir Kaliam!”

  “Yes, I see,” muttered the Sentinel. Lady Merewen stifled a laugh, and she and Kindle left the ring, choosing to watch from the safer side of the fence.

  Still grumbling, Kaliam chose the claymore and moved to the opposite side of the ring. “Stand you ready?” Kaliam asked.

  “I guess so,” Robby replied.

  The word “Begin!” was barely out of Kaliam’s mouth when Robby bolted toward him. He slammed a high stroke against Kaliam’s claymore, so hard that the sound made both combatants’ ears ring. But with their blades locked at eye level, Robby shoved with all his might and Kaliam lost his balance. He stumbled backward, and when he looked up, he found the tip of his own broadsword level with his throat. Lady Merewen and Kindle were speechless.

  “You cannot fight like that,” Kaliam protested. “A knight with a lighter blade would cut you to ribbons!”

  Robby considered Kaliam’s point. “I guess he could try,” Robby replied.

  Kaliam gestured and Robby returned to his spot. “Again!” Kaliam yelled.

  And again Robby bull-rushed. This time Kaliam was ready. He absorbed Robby’s first blow and used it to spin around. The next thing Robby knew, Kaliam had the claymore suspended three inches from the back of Robby’s neck. “That was cool!” Robby said. “Can you teach me that?”

  Kaliam smiled, pleased to have evened the score in front of his bride-to-be. “There is much I can teach you,” Kaliam said. “In time. Let us tilt again!”

  On the third duel Kaliam rushed out to meet Robby’s charge, and their blades met with a tremendous crash. Kaliam tried to roll off the blow and spin like before, but Robby ducked it and slapped away Kaliam’s attack. Their weapons struck again and again, long, sweeping, heavy blows—always followed by grunts from the two fighters. Sweat poured off of them both and the straining muscles of each glistened.

  Kaliam began at last to wear Robby down. He backed him into a corner, but Robby did something Kaliam did not expect. He turned the broadsword so that when he struck again, it would not be with the sharp blade, but rather the full flat of the blade. Robby chopped down with all his might on Kaliam’s claymore near the hilt. The force of the blow was such that it knocked the blade from Kaliam’s hand. Robby thought he had won, but before he could deliver the final shot, Kaliam grabbed the claymore and in one motion rolled and brought the blade point to Robb
y’s back.

  “Uh, okay, I give!” Robby said.

  Kaliam lowered the sword. “How did I beat you?” he asked.

  “I didn’t think someone as big as you could move that fast,” Robby replied, shaking his head.

  “Most cannot,” Kaliam said. “Still, you acquitted yourself well with my broadsword. I will see if something like it can be found for you to use more permanently.”

  “You mean I passed the test?” Robby asked. “I’m a knight now?”

  “You have more than enough skill with a sword to be a knight,” Kaliam said. “But there is more to it than that. Go now with Kindle. He will take you to Guard’s Keep for the midday meal. Afterward, we will meet again, and I will show you your chores.” He winked at Lady Merewen. “One of them in particular was Aidan’s favorite!”

  “Well?” Lady Merewen asked after Kindle and Robby left the train-ing compound.

  “Robby has no classical technique,” Kaliam replied, absently massaging his forearms. “But what he lacks in style, he makes up for in brutality! He is reckless, almost maniacal with that broadsword. Why, his initial charge is an onslaught of one person! I would gladly have him guarding the walls of our city, and I pity any enemy knight who scales a ladder only to meet Robby and his heavy blade.”

  “Why do you still have hesitation in your manner, m’lord?” Lady Merewen asked.

  “I wish I knew . . . for certain,” Kaliam replied, staring into the skies to the north.

  “Is there something you guess, then?”

  “Tonight, after Robby’s Confession Ceremony, I need to speak to him and ask him a question. Then I will have some wisdom and not just a hunch.”

  “You speak in riddles, m’lord,” Lady Merewen said.

  He turned to face her and said, “Perhaps it is one of many things I have learned from our King.”

  She laughed but then pointed over Kaliam’s shoulder. “Kaliam, look!”

  And there in the skies to the north were hundreds of gray winged shapes. A horn call came on the wind, and it was answered as the trumpets of the city rang out.

  Kaliam sighed with great relief. “The dragon riders have returned!”

  25

  PENNATH ADOR

  This is grievous news!” exclaimed Kaliam. He banged his fist on the table, startling all those assembled in Guard’s Keep. “Mallik, is there nothing your resourceful folk can do?”

  Mallik’s coppery brow was knotted in anger. He wore a sneer of distaste as he spoke. “Paragor’s attack was more precise than we ever could have imagined. Some of our cutting tools were spared, but every last one of our wind-carriages was burned to cinders! We are resourceful, yes, but we cannot carve walls without tools—nor trans-port stone without carriages!”

  “In spite of our careful planning,” said King Ravelle, “the enemy then stays one step ahead!”

  “So it would seem,” Kaliam replied. Lady Merewen’s light touch on his forearm calmed him enough to sit down.

  “The gray walls of Alleble are yet proud and sturdy,” said Queen Illaria. “Can they not buffet Paragor’s attack?”

  Farix answered, “If all the enemy brought to bear on us was his catapults and his fiery projectiles . . . then yes, the walls of Alleble would stand. But the Wyrm Lord’s fire is a weapon beyond the strength of normal stone. He would open breaches in our defenses and allow Paragor’s foot soldiers to invade.”

  “And that is our chief fear,” explained Kaliam. “Paragor may try to drop his forces behind our walls with his dragon carriages, but our own dragons and archers will limit their effect. But if he is able to break through the walls, we are then forced to abandon our plan of attack to plug holes in our defense!”

  “What then is to be done?” Lord Sternhilt asked.

  “What indeed?” echoed Kaliam, and he shook his head. “For the Wyrm Lord was a mere shadow of his former strength—shriv-eled and weak from his captivity—when Clarion fell to him like kin-dling. Now that he has been nursed to health in the bastions of Paragory, his fire will burn all the hotter. And who can say what powers the firstborn dragon will wield when his strength waxes?”

  “It seems we have little hope,” said Nock.

  “There is always hope,” whispered a voice from a hooded Glimpse at the chamber door. And yet each knight in the room felt as if it had been spoken privately in his ear alone. They all turned as the stranger lowered his hood. He had dark feathery hair flecked with gray and brushed to one side where it rippled like willow branches in the wind. Luminous blue eyes with huge dark pupils peered out thoughtfully from under gray brows. A slight smile appeared above his squared goatee, but it was the smile neither of joy nor of madness. No, this Glimpse’s expression was in many ways grim, but his smile spoke of confidence and security, an anchor in the room where the sea had become so turbulent.

  “Naysmithe!” Kaliam said, and he stood and went to shake his hand. “You are most welcome. Long has it been since you have offered your wisdom in this room!”

  “I only repeat such wisdom as I am given,” Naysmithe replied mysteriously. “But I say again, there is always hope. The Three Witnesses are coming.”

  Eyebrows were raised and those at the table broke into mur-murs. They spoke excitedly and asked such things as: “How do you know?” “Are the tales then true?” “Can they save us from the enemy?” and, of course, “Who are they?”

  Kaliam studied the former Sentinel. “Naysmithe, friend and sage . . . why do you say this?”

  “In a time when ancient, legendary evils threaten The Realm,” he said in that strange penetrating whisper, “the Three will come. All of Alleble awaits them. And soon I will complete the blades they will wield. It stirs the soul. Can you not sense it?”

  Kaliam was silent. Though he could not explain how he knew, he could indeed sense the coming of the Three. Later, as he stood alone on the balcony above Guard’s Keep, he stared at the shadows in the west . . . and wondered.

  “Mallik!!” Nock shouted as he sprinted into the dining area of Guard’s Keep. “At last I have found you!!” The hammer-meister was so startled he spit stew halfway across the table.

  “Great moonrascals!” Mallik bellowed, swabbing his bearskin tunic with a clean cloth. “What in The Realm is the matter?!”

  “You will never believe it, my friend!” Nock said. And he grabbed and tugged on Mallik’s thick arm. “Come, you must see!”

  Mallik had barely enough time to grab his hammer before Nock dragged him out of Guard’s Keep, down several flights of stairs, and out into Alleble’s late afternoon sun. At last, they cut behind the gatehouse and made their way to the dragon pens.

  There they found evidence that someone had been very hard at work. All of the pens had been raked clean of dragon scat. Huge, steaming mounds were piled in the dump zone beyond the last pen. The dragons all seemed to be resting contentedly on fresh straw. And that was not even the wonder Nock had brought Mallik to see.

  For a young blond warrior with unusual pinkish skin lay upon the back of an enormous dark gray dragon. His eyes were closed, and his head rested between the creature’s shoulder blades. The dragon’s tail curled protectively over the knight’s legs. But what really caused Mallik’s eyes to bulge was seeing the four ivory-white spikes protruding from the dragon’s tail.

  “King Eliam, save us!” Mallik cried. “Is he dead?”

  “Nay, my friend,” Nock said. “Only sleeping.”

  “But that is Splinter he is lying on!”

  “I know!” Nock said. “Why do you think I came to get you?”

  “Who would be so foolish as to sleep on that beast?” Mallik asked. “I would wager my beard he is another from the Mirror Realm!”

  “That is Robby,” answered Nock. “A good friend of Sir Aidan’s. Lady Merewen told me he is to be Twelfth Knight on the mission into King’s Forest tomorrow. But hush, we must rescue him without waking the monster.”

  Mallik and Nock tiptoed to the pen, and Mallik held his ham-mer high
above Robby’s sleeping form. “Go ahead,” Mallik whis-pered urgently. “But mind the eyes!”

  Being incredibly light on his feet, Nock leaped to Mallik’s broad shoulders and walked across the haft of his hammer. Nock hooked his legs around the huge steel head and dangled down until he could reach Robby.

  “Robby,” Nock whispered. “Robby, wake up!”

  Robby shrugged his shoulders, but his eyelids did not even so much as flutter.

  “Robby!” Nock said a little louder. “Wake up! You are in danger!” This elicited a growl from Splinter. And finally Robby opened his eyes.

  “Oh,” Robby said. “I’m sorry! I was fixin’ to get back to work, but I guess I must have dozed off.” Then he looked strangely at Nock and Mallik. “What are you guys doing?”

  “We are trying to save you!” Nock exclaimed. “This dragon is untamed—very dangerous!”

  Robby sat up with an amused look on his face. “What, her?” he asked. “She’s just a big ole pussycat!”

  “Nay, Robby!” Mallik argued. “She is ornery and tempestuous! Trust us. We have seen her aroused.”

  Robby laughed. “You’re joking! I know I’m the new guy, so I should expect it, but c’mon. You could at least come up with some-thing serious!” Robby folded his hands behind his head and made no attempt to get off the dragon’s back.

  “Grab on to Nock’s hands!” Mallik bellowed. His shoulders were beginning to wear down. “She is dangerous, I tell you!”

  “Oh, stop!” Robby said as he spun around and straddled Splinter’s back. Then he made a clicking noise with his tongue and his teeth. Immediately, Splinter rose on all fours and spread her wings. She brought her nose close and nuzzled Robby’s chin.

  “Ya see?” Robby said. Nock fell off Mallik’s hammer, and the two of them stared.