The Final Storm

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  “By the King’s grace!” Sir Oswyn sang out. “They work fast!”

  “Elspeth, all of our remaining allies have arrived. King Brower’s folk are working like frenzied ants upon the walls. And the scouts on the Cold River have not returned with any news of threat. Do you have everything you need for the dinner celebration this evening?”

  “Yes, m’lord.”

  “There is one more thing I request of you, Elspeth—but you must keep it as a secret.”

  Curious, Elspeth stepped closer to him. “M’lord.”

  “Merewen and I shall marry at the celebration this evening,” he said, handing her a piece of parchment. “Would you be sure all of the people on this list are invited to join us in the King’s Garden?”

  Elspeth grinned. “I will personally see to it, Sir Kaliam. We shall all have a merry time tonight. Yes—”

  A sharp knock at the door interrupted Elspeth.

  “Sentinel Kaliam!” a voice called. “Thrivenbard has returned from King’s Forest! He awaits you with news in Guard’s Keep!”

  Kaliam took his place next to Lady Merewen at the head of the table in Guard’s Keep. Gathered there as well were King Ravelle, King Brower, Queen Illaria, Lord Sternhilt, Robby, Trenna, and a dozen other prominent Glimpse warriors.

  Thrivenbard stood and told the tale. He spoke of the battle with serpents and spiders and the lives that were lost there. He told of the finding of the hidden village of Balesparr and of their promise to fight for Alleble against the enemy. And last, he told of Paragor’s daring attack on Balesparr where he took Zabediel, the aged scribe, and flew away with him to the dark mountains in the west.

  “How long ago did this happen?” Kaliam asked. His eyes were vacant, and his face wore a stunned expression. “How long ago did Paragor take Zabediel?”

  “Two seasons, according to Warriant,” Thrivenbard replied.

  “Two seasons?!” Kaliam exclaimed. “That would put it before the battle at Mithegard!” Kaliam was silent a few moments, lost in thought. “This Warriant fellow,” he said at last. “You say his eyes glint green. Are you sure you can trust him?”

  Nock spoke up. “Sir Warriant is an honorable knight. If Paragor was his master, we would all be dead now. When we approached the hidden village, Sir Warriant and his Baleneers surrounded us in a clearing. They waited among the treetops with their sharp spears at the ready. It would have been like catching fish in a barrel.”

  “Besides,” Sir Oswyn chimed in, “if Sir Warriant was an agent of the enemy, he could just as easily have had eyes that glint blue to deceive us.”

  “No, these are Zabediel’s folk,” concluded Thrivenbard. “He is no enemy of Alleble.”

  Kaliam stood and paced the front of the room. “Two seasons,” he muttered to himself. And then to the group, “If it is as you say, then it answers many hard questions but leaves me still with one that troubles me even more. We can now guess that Paragor had the Scroll of Prophecy and Zabediel before our journey to Yewland. It must be that the Scroll revealed the location of the tomb of the Wyrm Lord in the Shattered Lands, as well as the Sepulcher of the Seven Sleepers in the Blackwood. This is how Paragor is able to stay ahead of our plans.”

  “Those are the answers,” Lady Merewen said, looking with concern to Kaliam. “What troubles you still?”

  Kaliam looked directly at her and then at the group assembled before him. “What I still do not understand—and forgive me for questioning the wisdom of our King—but, if Paragor took Zabediel months ago, the King must have known. Why, then, would he wait and send us on a mission that could not be achieved?”

  “Perhaps there was a greater mission,” Thrivenbard said as he stood. “M’lord Kaliam, I struggled with this same thought as I mourned the loss of many of our team. Why send them to their doom if Zabediel is not there to be rescued? But then I realized that while we have lost some of our finest warriors, we have gained thousands in return. And the spears they wield are swift, as silent as the grave, and deadly accurate! I wonder how many lives the Baleneers will save by going to war on our side.”

  Many expressed agreement with Thrivenbard as they left the afternoon meeting. Two warriors remained seated near Kaliam: Robby and Lady Merewen.

  “I liked what Thrivenbard said about King Eliam,” Robby said. “I haven’t known him long—the King, I mean—but that’s kinda the way he is. I mean, I’ve wondered for a long time about why things happen the way they do. I wondered why my dad left—abandoned us when I was little. But if he hadn’t, we might never have moved to Maryland. I might never have met Aidan. And then I wondered why Aidan had to move, but he needed to talk to his grandfather—needed to hear about Alleble so he could try to get the truth through my thick head.

  “So many things had to happen just the right way to get me here!” Robby wiped the tear off his cheek. “Y’know, I was thinking that maybe one of the reasons King Eliam waited so long to send a team into the forest was because of me. I learned a lot in those woods. I learned that some things are worth risking my life for.” He thought of Trenna and her radiant smile. “And I also learned I hate spiders!” Robby and Kaliam burst out in laughter.

  Kaliam put his arm on Robby’s shoulder for a moment. “Thank you,” he said.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Robby replied.

  “Yes . . . yes, you did.”

  Robby grinned and seemed to stand a little straighter. “I’ll see you, m’lord,” he said. “I’m gonna go play with Splinter.”

  “Do you still question?” Lady Merewen asked just after Robby left.

  “I do not question the King’s judgment, no,” Kaliam replied.

  “But I can see doubt lingering in your eyes,” Lady Merewen said, taking his hand.

  “You have a gift, m’lady, for seeing beyond my words,” Kaliam said, smiling a little sadly. “The doubt you see is not doubt of the King. I doubt myself.”

  “Why so?” she asked. “Alleble’s armies number nearly as many as our enemy now that our allies have all come—and add to that a legion of adept spearmen! The new walls will be complete in a few days. You have prepared as well as may be.”

  “You encourage me, Merewen,” he said. “But Paragor wields the Wyrm Lord and the Sleepers. He has also the Scroll of Prophecy and Zabediel, the only one left alive who could interpret it fully. Without that wisdom and knowledge, how can I possibly know for sure who the Three Witnesses are?”

  33

  DRANG’S GAME

  T he torchlit passages in the heart of Paragor’s stronghold twisted and turned like a den of serpents. “Please tell me you aren’t lost,” Antoinette said when Aidan stopped suddenly at a fork in the path.

  “Quiet, I’m thinking!” Aidan barked.

  Zabed placed a withered hand on Aidan’s shoulder. “What place does thou hope to find?” he asked.

  “It’s a huge balcony,” Aidan said. “On the northern side of the great tower. I tied the dragons there.”

  “Does thou mean the tower crowned with thorns?”

  “Yes!” Aidan exclaimed.

  “Then take the passage on thy left,” Zabed explained.

  There came a strange rumbling from below. It grew louder, and Aidan recognized the sound as the tromping of many iron-shod feet. Paragor had not emptied his fortress completely after all. “Soldiers!” Aidan shouted. “Antoinette, they know you’ve escaped! We must hurry!”

  They could hear shrieks and the shouts of many voices, distant but growing ever closer.

  “The rats in this cursed hold will smell us out, I fear,” Zabed growled. “I have told ye the prophecy of thy scroll. You have no longer need of me. Leave me behind.”

  Aidan looked at Zabed, who was starved from his long imprisonment, thin and frail with age.

  “Maybe there’s another way,” Aidan said, and he handed Fury to Antoinette. Then he grasped Zabed’s wrists and carefully slung him onto his back.

  “Nay, lad!” Zabed protested. “Leave me be! I will slow thou down
to the demise of all!”

  “Zabed, I won’t leave you,” Aidan said, hefting the sage and taking a few steps. “C’mon, Antoinette!”

  Aidan ran surprisingly fast, bearing Zabed’s extra weight more easily than he had thought he could. The passage curled and then sloped downward. Aidan whispered a quick Thank you to King Eliam and charged on. Antoinette, Fury in one hand, the Daughter of Light in the other, raced after him.

  Heavy footfalls fell in the passage behind them. Too close! Aidan thought. They’ll catch us before we can— Then he saw it. The passage opened up at the bottom and strange gray twilight fell upon the stone beneath a wide arch. Aidan knew that arch. The balcony and the dragons were just beyond it!

  “It’s just ahead!” he cried. “Hurry!” Just then an arrow swooshed over Aidan’s shoulder, struck the ceiling of the passage ahead, and clattered to the ground. Angry screams blared from the passage.

  Aidan dashed down the hill. The arch was closer. Almost there. Suddenly, Zabed groaned. His arms stiffened and then went limp in Aidan’s grasp. Zabed’s gray head fell on Aidan’s shoulders.

  “No!” Aidan exclaimed. “Zabed?!” But the old sage did not answer. Aidan surged beneath the arch into the ethereal gray of night in Paragory. But the moment Aidan stepped on the stone of the balcony, his feet slid out from under him. He skidded as if on ice and fell backward. His weight came down hard on Zabed.

  Antoinette was right behind him. She lost her footing as well, flailed to keep her balance, but crashed to the stone. Her sword and Fury clattered across the balcony. Antoinette pushed herself up from the ground. Her hands felt wetness. She stood awkwardly and looked at her palms. Even in the shroud of gray night, she could see glistening blood. Blood! Antoinette looked around. They were in a great wide pool of blood.

  Aidan struggled to his feet, turned, and saw the two white dragons he had brought from the stables below. They were slain, their long necks hewn and scored with many jagged wounds. And sprawled unnaturally near the dragons were five dead Glimpses. Paragor Knights—each of them gouged deep by dragon claws or bitten.

  Then Aidan saw Zabed, facedown in the blood. A cruel black shaft protruded from his shoulder, and he lay very still. “No! Zabed!” Aidan yelled, as he staggered toward the fallen sage. A dozen Paragor Knights appeared in the shadows on the downslope of the passage, but Aidan did not see them. He knelt next to the old Glimpse and felt for a pulse. There was none.

  Antoinette grabbed her sword and dove behind one of the dead dragons. “Aidan!”

  But Aidan seemed lost in a fog. He held the frail hand of the old Glimpse and thought of Captain Valithor, the Glimpse twin of Grampin. Aidan had held Valithor’s hand as he died, pierced like Zabed with an arrow meant for Aidan.

  Antoinette watched the enemy advance under the arch. In a moment they could hack Aidan to bits with their curved swords. “Aidan! Snap out of it!” she cried. “Aidan!”

  An arrow glanced off Aidan’s shoulder, and he fell backward. Finally aware of his own peril, he scrabbled in the blood, snatched Fury, and dove behind the other fallen dragon steed. Sickening wet thuds followed as a barrage of black shafts drilled into the fallen white dragons.

  “How many?” Aidan called out.

  “At least a dozen,” Antoinette answered. “There may be more coming. I don’t know.”

  Aidan grimaced. The balcony wall stood behind them, and beyond that, there was a hundred-foot fall to the jagged rocks of the Grimwalk below. Twelve against two and nowhere to go.

  Never alone, Aidan thought as he slowly rose to look over the dragon carcass. The enemy was there, but they were not advancing. Not yet. It seemed more to their taste to try to pick off their prey from a safe distance. After all, they were in no danger from return fire.

  “I see your game, Blarrak!” came a voice. “If that is who you really are!”

  Aidan peered over the dragon carcass. It was Drang!

  “Yes, I know your game!” Drang yelled. “But I play it better than you! Now give up Kearn’s prize, for I am several moves ahead of you!”

  Another volley of arrows streamed in. Many stabbed into the dead dragons, others hit the balcony wall and fell at Aidan’s feet. “Antoinette, the dead Paragor Knights in front of the dragons—do any of them have a bow?”

  Antoinette looked at Aidan strangely, then she nodded and peered around the dragon. The dead knights had only swords, no, wait! There was one bow. It lay beneath the Paragor Knight farthest from the fallen dragon in front of her. Antoinette ducked back and called to Aidan, “There is one bow. I can get it, but I’ll be exposed.”

  “No you won’t!” Aidan said. “Be ready.” Aidan suddenly stood up, and ran to the right of his dragon cover. He slashed Fury as he ran, and the enemy trained their bows upon him. At that moment, staying low, Antoinette sprinted from behind her dragon.

  The arrows flew at Aidan, and he dove to the ground and rolled. One shaft struck Fury’s crossguard and fell away. Several others bounced off the balcony wall. Aidan stood again and leaped for cover, but not before a black shaft struck him in the upper arm.

  Aidan hit the ground, and struggled to tear off the armor on his arm. He could feel the tip of the arrow on his skin, and he knew if it penetrated, the poison from even a scratch could kill him. At last the armor came free. The tip had gone clean through the armor, but there was no blood on his arm. He was safe.

  “I got it!” Antoinette called.

  “Do you know how to shoot?”

  “Yes, actually, I do,” Antoinette replied. But could she remember all that Nock had taught her in that short lesson at Torin’s Vale?

  Aidan grabbed every fallen arrow he could find, and even plucked a few from the dragon’s body. These he tossed over at Antoinette’s feet. Antoinette fitted the first shaft to the bowstring. She sat still for a moment, rehearsing the movements. Eye on the target, draw the bowstring to your ear, pull back a little more until the string releases itself . . . and, oh yeah, expect to hit the target!

  Then she stood suddenly. She spotted a broad warrior standing near the arch. She aimed, drew back, and the arrow was gone. She had been aiming for his chest, but the shot was a little high. The arrow plunged straight into the Glimpse’s neck. Antoinette lined up another shot. Another arrow flew, and another enemy fell. But the enemy fired back, and Antoinette dropped to the ground for cover.

  Lightning flashed, illuminating the balcony, and Aidan saw a pair of knights crawling across the bloody balcony. Thunder rumbled overhead. Aidan yelled, “Get the two on the ground!”

  He watched as Antoinette fired at the two prone figures. Her first shot drilled into the closest knight. His head hit the balcony with a dull thud. The other warrior got up and tried to run, but fell within a few steps as an arrow pierced his armor and plunged deep between his shoulder blades.

  “Wow! Who taught you to shoot?” Aidan asked.

  “Nock!” Antoinette replied with a wink.

  Aidan looked up over the dragon. There were two Paragor Knights left: Drang and a big galoot of a warrior who didn’t seem to know which end of the arrow to put onto the bowstring.

  “I’m out of arrows!” Antoinette said, drawing the Daughter of Light. “But I think we can take them!”

  “Okay,” Aidan called back. “I’ll take the big guy, but if you can, leave the other guy alive. He may know how we can get out of here.”

  “Uh, okay,” she said. “I’ll try!”

  The giant looked up and saw Aidan coming. He tossed away his bow and pulled a huge double-bladed battleaxe from his back. Aidan soon found out that whatever skill the giant lacked with the bow, he more than made up for with the axe. The giant’s first strike almost took Aidan’s head off. He ducked just in time, but had no time to mount a counterattack. He had to roll into the blood to avoid a devastating chop from the giant. He rolled to his feet. Lightning flashed, and Aidan saw rage flickering on the giant’s face as he pressed the attack.

  Aidan leaped over a low axe stroke and
then dodged to the side, but not far enough, and the axe blade slid over his leg armor. “Ah!” Aidan yelled. His thigh burned hot.

  This is not good! Aidan thought. The dragons’ blood was so slippery that it was hard to sidestep the warrior’s wide axe slashes. And he was afraid to try to block the axe with Fury. If the axe broke his sword, Aidan would be left weaponless.

  Then the giant came running with his axe held high. Skidding in the blood, Aidan ran too, but he ran away from the giant toward the balcony. The giant was right behind him, ready to bring the axe down when Aidan ran out of room. At the last possible second, Aidan swerved to his right, grabbed the tail of one of the dead dragons, and slid. He slammed into the balcony wall. The massive Paragor Knight tried to pull up at the last second, but slid in the blood. The balcony wall hit him about waist-high. He flipped over the edge and disappeared with an angry scream.

  Aidan got up and saw that Antoinette had done her part. She had disarmed Drang and had him pinned to the stone wall with her sword tip stuck in his shoulder.

  “Oww!” Aidan said, limping as he approached the two. He yelled at Drang, “Was it you who killed the two white dragons?”

  Drang glanced at Antoinette’s armor. “Servants of Alleble, eh? I have nothing to say to the likes of you!”

  “Antoinette,” Aidan said, rubbing his injured leg, “persuade him.”

  Antoinette twisted her sword blade just a tiny amount. Drang yelped with pain. “Ahhgg! All right! No, I did not touch the dragons. M’lads did it! Ahh, stop!”

  Antoinette stopped turning the blade. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled as an icy breeze washed over the balcony.

  “You ordered them to do it, though,” Aidan said. “Right?”

  “Right!” Drang laughed. “And now the dragons are gone, mine included—not one left! Looks like you’ll have to walk back to Alleble!”

  “Antoinette.”