The Final Storm

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  “Trenna Swiftfoot,” Kaliam began. “Steadfast huntress of Yewland, you are not called tonight to abandon all loyalties to your home-land. Nay, serve your queen faithfully. But by your declaration, you have already become a full servant of Alleble by making a confession of allegiance in the presence of Lady Antoinette. So this night, we make public that which you have already declared in private.

  “Do you, Trenna, confess allegiance and absolute loyalty to the one true King, the provider of all that is just and good? Even were the hordes of darkness to assail you in hopeless demand of your life—even then do you swear devotion forever to the King? Trenna, say ‘aye’ only if this is the sincerest wish of your heart.”

  Trenna looked up, her eyes glinted blue, and she said, “Aye!”

  “Huzzah!!” Mallik bellowed. Kaliam glared at his hammer-wielding friend as if to say, “We are not finished yet!”

  Kaliam took the sword and lightly tapped it on each of Trenna’s shoulders. “Then by the heartfelt confession of your lips, I dub thee Lady Trenna, swordmaiden and defender of Alleble!”

  The room erupted in cheers—and huzzahs! And, crying tears of joy, Trenna accepted her sword from Kaliam’s hands. Kaliam then turned to Robby. At first, Robby avoided the Sentinel’s gaze.

  Trenna decided so easily! he thought. The whole time Kaliam had been speaking with Trenna, Robby had been silently debating. The strange encounter with the old Glimpse in the mountains kept replaying itself over and over in his mind. “The choice is whether you will fulfill that mission or return to your world in the hope of bringing your family to the point of turning. Some good will come of either deci-sion, but you must choose tonight.”

  Kaliam took the second blade from Kindle and turned to Robby. “Robby,” he said, “you responded to King Eliam’s invitation and entered The Door Within. You traveled the narrow path and have come now to make the good confession. This sword . . .” Kaliam held the blade aloft for all to see. “This sword was crafted long ago for a doughty knight who fought for Alleble in the Cold River Battles. It is a fearsome, heavy blade, emblazoned with the image of a dragon. And you have come to Alleble with the ferocity and the passion of such a beast.

  “And already, in just a short time, you have struck a blow against the enemy that he will find hard to endure.”

  Mallik came within an inch of shouting out another HUZZAH, but Nock elbowed him in the ribs.

  “And you have shown yourself courageous in battle,” Kaliam continued. “Your skills warrant knighthood, so I now require of you . . . the good confession.”

  Robby shifted uncomfortably on his knees. He wanted desper-ately to become a knight and serve King Eliam, but he felt another kind of desperation as well . . . and he wasn’t sure which would win out.

  “Do you, Robby, confess allegiance and absolute loyalty to the one true King, the provider of all that is just and good? Even were the hordes of darkness to assail you in hopeless demand of your life—even then do you swear devotion forever to the King?”

  In that moment Robby’s field of vision clouded. And he saw his mother, smiling and happy as she often was when they lived in Florida. She was flattening dough with a rolling pin and looking up expectantly. Then he saw his sister Jill, but she was younger . . . wearing pigtails like she used to before makeup and high school. She was just grinning like she knew the world’s greatest secret. Finally, Robby saw his father. They were at the marina in Panama City. He was wearing that Hawaiian shirt Robby had given him for his birthday. He was showing Robby how to cast the fishing rod. Robby couldn’t help but think how contented they both looked—father and son. But then the vision changed horribly. The faces, except his, were all still there. But they were grief-stricken, anguished, and fearful. There seemed to be dark water all around them—are they drowning? But wait! No, it was not water. It was oil . . . dark oil, and his mother, father, and sister were in the fountain. Suddenly, fire ringed the fountain and engulfed them!

  “Noooo!” Robby screamed. The crowd gathered in the Great Hall gasped.

  “Robby?” Kaliam said. “Robby, what is wrong?”

  Robby put his head in his hands. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” he cried.

  “I do.” And suddenly Lady Merewen was there. She went to Robby and put her hand on his wet cheek. “You are torn,” she whispered.

  “I just can’t let them die!” he said, looking up at her with des-perate eyes.

  “Who, Robby?” Lady Merewen asked.

  “Mom, Dad . . . Jill—they’ll die if I don’t go back!” Robby closed his eyes and began to shake.

  “Robby, look at me!” she said, and she lifted his chin. And slowly, Robby looked up at her. “Now,” she said, “who told you they would all die?”

  “He did.”

  Lady Merewen tilted her head and restrained the anger she was feeling. “Paragor is a liar, Robby!” she said forcefully. “For the longest time, he ruled you by his lies, and now that he has lost you, he wants only one thing: to render you powerless.”

  “But my family . . . if I don’t go back, who will tell them?”

  Lady Merewen smiled and put her hand on Robby’s shoulder. “King Eliam the Everlasting has many servants,” she said. And sud-denly, Robby felt another hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and there was Trenna, grinning like a schoolgirl. Yet another hand, a big one, landed on Robby’s other shoulder. Robby smiled, for there was Mallik. Nock came next, then Kindle, and another . . . and another. And still many more after that until Robby was surrounded by Glimpses. Their hands chased away the chill, and Robby pictured the eyes of the old Glimpse from the mountain.

  “The only thing you must decide is whether you will continue to trust.”

  “Robby, I offer to you now the good confession,” Kaliam said. “Think deeply on this, for you are free to choose. Only answer ‘aye’ if it is the deepest longing of your heart.”

  Robby looked up at the glad loving eyes of his new friends, but no, they were somehow more than friends. They were family. I will trust you, Robby said in his mind. But out loud he yelled at the top of his lungs, “Aye!”

  “Then by the heartfelt confession of your lips,” Kaliam announced, tapping the sword blade lightly on his shoulders, “I dub thee Sir Robby, Twelfth Knight of Alleble and servant forever of King Eliam the Everlasting!”

  The roar that escaped the Great Hall in that moment could be heard even by those who passed by the castle on the road. The cel-ebration ensued, but for Kaliam, Robby, and many of the warriors gathered there, they could not enjoy much of it, for they had impor-tant matters to discuss.

  “Can they do it?” Kaliam asked. He stood beside a roaring fire in Guard’s Keep.

  “My people are masters of mountain and stone,” Mallik replied proudly. “If there are any fissures in the tough white rock of Pennath Ador, we will exploit them. Still, it will take an army, and we need to begin now, before my kinsmen arrive.”

  “What must we do?” asked Farix, and he pulled a rolled parch-ment and a quill pen from his wide sleeves.

  “First, we will need more cutting and wedge tools,” Mallik explained, the lust for his craft thick in his voice. “King Brower will bring those that were not destroyed in the attack on Ludgeon. It is a goodly amount, but not enough. These will need to be made with haste and precision—not an easy feat to combine. And they can be made only from the purest veins of murynstil.”

  Kaliam turned to the armory keeper, who looked lost in thought. “Kindle?”

  “Aye,” he replied. “We can do that. Naysmithe can make anything from any metal in The Realm. But he will need a team of craftsmen, and every forge in Alleble will need to be stoked. I will see to it.”

  Mallik nodded. “Good!” he said. “Next we will need to harvest dragon skins—enough to stitch together a flexible pipeline that will reach halfway up the mountains.”

  “My word,” said Elspeth. “I can get the skins, for as you know, our dragons shed their skins often. But what on
earth would you need such a length for?”

  “Ahhh,” Mallik said, a twinkle in his eye. “That is the secret of our craft, but you shall learn it soon enough!”

  “What more do we need?” Farix asked, busily scrawling every-thing on the scroll.

  Mallik twirled a braid of his mustache for a moment. “A hun-dred kettles to boil snow,” he said. “Miles of good rope, a forest’s worth of timber, fifty sturdy carts with several hundred spare wheels, and as many dragons as we can spare.”

  “Splinter will help!” Robby chimed in.

  “Nay!” Mallik exclaimed. “I would take any dragon in Alleble, save that one. Splinter is your steed now, and you shall need her for your mission.”

  “Soon, Sir Robby!” Kaliam said, seeing Robby’s eagerness.

  Robby grinned, for he liked being called sir. Wait ’til Aidan sees me! he thought.

  “That is quite a list,” Farix said.

  “This is quite a task,” Mallik replied.

  “And time is the great unknown,” King Ravelle said. “We are hoping to do much without knowing when Paragor will mount his offensive. Have we heard from your scouts on the Cold River?”

  “Yes,” Kaliam replied. “There is much movement in Paragory. More troops arrive each day, but at least so far, he has not given any indication of when he might attack.”

  “That is good news,” King Ravelle said. “Perhaps we will have new walls upon which to fight, after all! Oh, and well defended those walls will be. Nock and Queen Illaria have been training Yewland’s Braves with the arbalest. As is expected, they have taken to them with great enthusiasm! Combining the arbalest with Blackwood Arrows has absolutely devastating effect.”

  “Excellent.” Kaliam stood, clapping his hands. “Well, then, many of you have your orders. See to them, and honor our great King with your work. The twelve I have selected will remain, for we must discuss your mission into King’s Forest.”

  The fire in Guard’s Keep was now just glowing embers. It hissed and popped behind the black grate, its warmth nearly spent. The candle chandelier swayed and turned slowly, sending flickering shadows dancing around the room. The chilled night air slipped in through the closed shutters.

  All mirth had disappeared. Each knight looked grimly thoughtful. Robby gazed at the other warriors, and aside from himself and Kaliam, he counted only ten. Kaliam stood by the fireplace, staring expectantly at the chamber door. Robby wondered who was missing.

  “I am sorry!” came a voice from outside the room, and in sped Trenna—now wearing the bright armor of Alleble. “I did not mean to keep you waiting,” she said. “But I would feel out of place among such proud ironclad warriors without my own silver armor.”

  Trenna quickly took a seat next to Robby.

  “Tonight,” Kaliam began, “you all met Sir Robby of the Mirror Realm and Lady Trenna from Yewland.”

  “Never alone!” sang out a Glimpse with bushy eyebrows and a lion’s mane of black hair. “And well-met, I say!”

  “Yes, Sir Oswyn,” Kaliam said, smiling. “Well-met, indeed. For we know them, but they do not know all of us. I shall remedy that presently.”

  “When tomorrow you take flight over the Mountains of Glory and enter King’s Forest, Thrivenbard will lead you.” A princely looking dark-haired knight with sharp features and large brown eyes stood briefly and bowed toward Robby and Trenna.

  “Thrivenbard’s wood knowledge is without equal in The Realm,” Kaliam went on. “And of the twelve, he alone has ventured into King’s Forest. Even so, Thrivenbard would be the first to tell you that for such a mission as this we will need all the woodland experience we can muster. So Halberad, his apprentice, will join us.”

  Halberad, a knight clad all in brown leather armor, stood a moment and bowed.

  “Like Trenna, the next three warriors were born and raised among the trees in Yewland,” Kaliam said. “Nock, Baldergrim, and Boldoak.”

  The sandy-haired archer stood first and winked at Robby and Trenna. “Hail, Dragonfriend and Swiftfoot,” Nock said. “I trust there will be no more races in the forest.” Robby and Trenna glanced sideways at each other and blushed.

  The two knights who stood next could not have been more different. The one called Baldergrim was tall, slender, and golden-haired, clean-shaven with skin smooth like porcelain and large gray eyes. Boldoak was broad and muscular with unruly shocks of dark hair and a wild beard to match. His skin was weather-beaten and worn, with a large scar prominent on his cheek. Boldoak’s dark eyes were barely visible slits beneath his protruding brow.

  “At your service,” Baldergrim said in a rich, deep voice.

  “For the King’s glory,” said Boldoak, his voice low and gravelly. They both bowed and sat.

  “The realm of Acacia, ever a friend to Alleble, sends three of its greatest hunters, Jarak, Locke, and Valden, to help us on this quest.” Three warriors stood, each dressed in armor of burnished copper. Jarak, a medium-build Glimpse with clever green eyes and a reddish Vandyke beard, said, “Proud to serve with you!”

  “As am I,” said Locke, who looked very young with a mop of light brown hair and a sprinkling of freckles upon his nose and cheeks.

  Valden was taller than the other two, and had waves of ruddy blond hair, small peaceful eyes, and a narrow goatee. In spite of the kindly appearance, Robby noticed that Valden had a pair of long-handled axes dangling from holsters at his sides. Valden said nothing but bowed just the same.

  “Valden does not speak much,” said Locke.

  “Except in battle,” corrected Jarak. “Then, cover your ears!”

  “You have already heard from Sir Oswyn,” Kaliam continued. “But know now that he is gifted with herbs and medicines.”

  “I deliver balms that heal for our allies,” Oswyn stood and said. “And more explosive remedies for our enemies!”

  “Your fire powder is most effective!” said a massive knight with long blond hair. He stood, reached over his shoulder, and brought round a huge, dual-bladed battleaxe. “Sir Rogan, of Mithegard,” he said.

  Sir Rogan sat down and winked mischievously at Robby. When he did, his eyes sparkled blue a moment. With curious fascination Robby looked from knight to knight. Each of the warriors, though clearly from many cultures and realms, had eyes that flickered blue, the color of devotion to King Eliam. Robby smiled, thinking that somewhere on earth his own Glimpse dwelt. And now, this Glimpse twin would have eyes that glinted blue as well.

  After meeting such a collection of gifted warriors, Robby felt very honored to be counted among them. Most of them were trackers or hunters—except Oswyn, who seemed a type of doctor. They all have a certain job, Robby thought. Except Sir Rogan—and me.

  Robby wondered what their roles on the mission would be, but Kaliam interrupted his thoughts. “Somewhere in a hidden village under the canopy of King’s Forest lives a very old Glimpse,” Kaliam began. Robby looked up with great interest. “His name is Zabediel, and he was the scribe for King Eliam when this world was new.”

  “Lives?” questioned Thrivenbard. “Surely you mean lived.”

  “Nay, my friend,” Kaliam replied. “For once, it is you who have gone off track. Zabediel was one of Torin’s kin, in the direct line of the firstborn Glimpses. To him has been given unnaturally long life. By the word of King Eliam, Zabediel is yet alive.”

  Looks were exchanged around the room. No one could fathom anyone, aside from the King, of course, having lived so long.

  “Zabediel was pleased to record the King’s ideas and his decrees,” Kaliam went on. “He did so for many years. But at one point, still long before Alleble came to be, the King saw into the future of The Realm. And what he saw Zabediel recorded on a single sheet of parchment.”

  Sir Oswyn nodded as if he knew something of Kaliam’s tale.

  “This scroll remained in King Eliam’s keeping,” the Sentinel continued. “Even as Alleble was founded and many things in The Realm were born and grew, the scroll was safe. But when The Sch
ism occurred, Zabediel, fearing for his own life, sought refuge in King’s Forest. And the scroll . . . well, the King hid that away, for he knew what could happen if one of ill intent knew its contents.”

  “The Scroll of Prophecy!” said Sir Oswyn. “That is the parchment you speak of!”

  “Yes,” Kaliam replied.

  “But that is just a legend,” Jarak said.

  “As were the Wyrm Lord and the Seven,” Nock said. “And yet they live and breathe—I have seen it.”

  Jarak fell silent.

  “There are many legends in The Realm,” Kaliam went on. “Legends laughed off as harvest tales or children’s lore. But even the most far-fetched stories can often be traced back to a kernel of truth. I do not know how much of the legend concerning the Scroll of Prophecy is to be heeded, but this much is known to me: It will help us identify the Three Witnesses.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jarak said, pinching the end of his tapered red beard. “Who are these Three Witnesses you speak of ?”

  “Mighty champions,” said Sir Oswyn. “Bold-hearted warriors with magnificent weapons. It is said that these three will come to Alleble in its time of greatest need and defend us from the threatening darkness.”

  “We have our mission, then!” Baldergrim exclaimed, his gray eyes intense and turbulent like a storm about to break. “Let us go and get this scroll. And then we might match Paragor’s living legends with our own!”

  “We cannot,” Kaliam replied. The chamber became utterly silent. They waited for Kaliam to explain. “Paragor has it.”

  “You mean that is why he cut down the Ancient One?” Boldoak asked. “That is what he stole from the hollow at Sil Arnoth’s center?”

  Kaliam nodded.

  “What would Paragor want with such a scroll?” Sir Rogan asked, fingering the sharp edge of his axe. “Does it not tell of his demise?”

  “I do not know if Paragor’s demise is a certainty, my friend,” Kaliam said gravely. “Some say the Scroll of Prophecy does not tell the way things must be in the end, but rather the way events might unfold for good or for ill. The destruction of Alleble could be foretold or the way that our end could be brought about. It could be that the prophecy tells both how the Three Witnesses may be found—and how they might be defeated. In any case, Paragor went to great lengths to get the scroll, and now he has it.”