The Final Storm

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  She turned the sword.

  “Yeeeggg!” Drang yelled. “I have a horse! Stabled down below.

  She is old, not very strong, but she is yours.”

  “A horse?” Aidan yelled. “That’s it?”

  “All that is left! Now stop, please!”

  Antoinette removed the sword from Drang’s shoulder. He slumped to the ground. They tied Drang up and left him there on the balcony. Aidan led the way to the stables within the mountain.

  But as they ran, Aidan thought about Drang’s parting shot. “Go ahead, Dark Skins!” he had yelled. “Go ahead, ride my mare all the way to Alleble!” He laughed. “By the time you get there, there won’t be anything left.”

  34

  A TIME FOR

  ALL THINGS

  Kaliam stood near the three-tiered fountain in the courtyard where he had proposed to Merewen. He was thankful for the bright afternoon sun overhead, though he knew that in a matter of hours, that would change.

  King Brower, Mallik, and the rest of the Blue Mountain folk had worked day and night on the new walls. And now, just two days later, the walls were nearly complete. But still, Kaliam wondered if it would be enough. He remembered all too well the carnage at Clarion . . . and Yewland. The Wyrm Lord and the Seven Sleepers—they might turn the tide of the battle alone.

  “Kaliam,” a voice said. “It is time to prepare for your wedding.” Turning, Kaliam saw Sir Oswyn standing at the door and nodded.

  The guests had gathered in the garden. Sir Oswyn stood directly in front of the fountain. Kaliam took his place near the center, near Farix. Then all turned and looked. Between the trees, shrubs, and statues, they saw brief glimmers of white. And then, at last, Lady Merewen appeared riding a tall white unicorn. Her luminous violet eyes sparkled. A circlet of tiny white flowers rested above her brow. Her gown seemed to shimmer like cloth made of both white diamonds and deep blue onyxes. Draped across her shoulders and under her brilliant silver hair she wore the black velvet hand-embroidered heirloom sash that Kaliam had given her. Kaliam grinned. The unicorn stopped beside Kaliam, and he helped Merewen down.

  Oswyn read from a scroll. “Children of The Realm!” Sir Oswyn’s great voice rang out. “King Eliam the Everlasting calls you to this celebration to bear witness this day. If you are willing, so say you Aye!”

  The crowd spoke as one voice. “Aye!”

  “Very well then,” Sir Oswyn said with a broad smile. “May King Eliam and all the glad souls in the Sacred Realm Beyond the Sun witness this event also. And may all the blessings of our mighty King be upon you all.”

  From his pocket Oswyn produced two halves of a golden coin.

  “Kaliam and Merewen, I offer you each a half of this betrothal coin. If you accept, that means you agree to betroth your life to each other before King Eliam and these witnesses gathered here. Do you accept this coin?”

  Kaliam and Lady Merewen answered together, “I do.”

  Sir Oswyn placed one half in Lady Merewen’s hand and the other half of the coin in Kaliam’s hand. Turning to Kaliam he said, “Lord Kaliam, take this half as a—”

  But Os never finished the sentence. Kaliam interrupted, saying to Lady Merewen, “I gladly take the coin, but I will never need a reminder of what you are to me and what we are together.” Then he took the coin, joined hands with Lady Merewen, and kissed her.

  The crowd erupted in cheers far louder than Sir Oswyn’s plea, “Wait, Kaliam, you are not supposed to do that yet!” At last, Oswyn laughed and said, “In that case, by the power granted me by King Eliam, the provider of all that is just and good, I declare that you are husband and wife! Let the merrymaking begin!”

  In another corner of the garden, far from the merrymaking, King Ravelle sat alone on a stone bench. He looked up forlornly at a statue on the corner of a row of trees and hedges. It was the image of a maiden who appeared to walk forward and hold out her hands as if releasing a dove into flight.

  “It is a marvelous statue,” came a voice from the path to King Ravelle’s right.

  He looked, and his mouth fell open. “Ariana!” he exclaimed. “My wife! Of all the unlooked-for joys on this day!”

  She took him into her arms and they embraced. “I should never have left you,” she said. “You were a foolish, pigheaded warrior, but I was equally stubborn.”

  King Ravelle laughed aloud. “I hope we are wiser now.”

  She smiled.

  “I searched for you; where did you go?” he asked.

  “Many places. Eventually I found refuge in Balesparr.”

  “The hidden village?” he asked.

  “Yes. Come, Ravelle,” she said, her eyes glinting bright blue. “We have much to talk about.”

  As the celebration continued, Kaliam entered the courtyard where all the Knights of Alleble and their allies were assembled.

  “There is a time for all things,” Kaliam said loudly. “There is a time for singing, and we of Alleble sing each month at the fountain to remember the dawn where King Eliam returned to us and cast out the enemy. There is a time for weeping, and we have all wept bitterly for our losses at Mithegard, Clarion, Yewland, Ludgeon, and most recently at Balesparr.”

  Looks were exchanged. Many nodded, and some tears fell.

  Kaliam’s expression darkened. “Our enemy of old sits now on our doorstep. He has committed unspeakable evils and stands ready to do more. But I say we deny him!”

  The crowd cheered. Some raised fists high.

  “Our enemy has brought an army larger than any he has wielded before. An army built by deception, greed, and wanton violence. He is coming here to increase his force of slavery, but I say we deny him!”

  The cheers grew louder, and a buzz grew in the crowd.

  “Our foe has released ancient evils—names many thought were merely harvest tales for frightening children. But I assure you, they are real. The Seven Sleepers, the Wyrm Lord are under Paragor’s command, and he intends to bring down our strong new walls, but I say . . .”

  “DENY HIM!!!” the crowd answered together. But no voice was louder than that of King Brower from the Blue Mountains.

  When the noise quieted down somewhat, Kaliam went on. “The enemy was cast out by the one true King. And Paragor now comes to claim a throne that does not belong to him, but we say—”

  “DENY HIM!!!”

  Kaliam’s eyes smoldered. “I began by saying there is a time for all things. A time to sing, a time to cry, a time for peace—” Kaliam drew his sword and shouted to the crowd, “There is a time for all things, yes? But now I say it is TIME TO FIGHT!!!”

  The crowd went into an uproar. Shouts went up: “Deny Paragor!” “Defend Alleble!” “Fight now!” and “Man the battlements!”

  The crowd’s shouts were so loud, they did not hear the rumbling thunder in the storm clouds gathering overhead.

  35

  AN OLD FRIEND

  WELLMET

  The uncanny darkness generated by the Wyrm Lord covered the Grimwalk and extended in every direction as far as the eye could see. A turbulent storm continued to churn overhead. After leaving Drang, Aidan and Antoinette searched for a way to escape from the caverns inside the Gate of Despair. This proved to be long and difficult, for Paragor had left behind teams of sentries, and several times they were nearly caught. But for their efforts, they found no dragon steeds, only Drang’s horse. It was a black mare, old and tired from abuse, but it was the only thing they had.

  Antoinette wanted to leave right away, but knowing firsthand the icy dangers of the Grimwalk, Aidan insisted that they find something to keep themselves warm for their long ride. Eventually, they packed or wrapped themselves in anything they could find: stable blankets, leather tarps, strips of oily cloth.

  At last, the two Alleble Knights led Drang’s horse through a small side door on the far side of the caverns where the siege towers had once stood. They emerged into the strange twilight world created by the Wyrm Lord’s Black Breath. They could see within the shro
ud of darkness, and it was still frigid cold on the Grimwalk.

  “How good are you at riding?” Antoinette asked.

  “I seldom fall off,” Aidan said.

  “Okay, I’ll take the reins,” Antoinette decided. “What should we name her?”

  “You want to name Drang’s horse?”

  “She’s not his anymore. Any ideas?”

  “She looks so tired,” Aidan replied. “Like she’s really weather-beaten, y’know? Maybe something like Stormy, Thundergallop, Black Lightning, Stormchaser—”

  “Stormchaser?” Antoinette exclaimed. “I like it! In a way . . . we are chasing a storm.”

  Soon they were racing across the icy Grimwalk on Stormchaser. The bitter cold forced them to keep their faces covered up, and they did not speak.

  They had not crossed even half of the Grimwalk before the tiring horse stumbled on a rut in the half-frozen ground, almost throwing her riders. Antoinette slowed Stormchaser to a trot, then a walk—until eventually Antoinette and Aidan were forced to walk beside the poor creature. Finally, the beast was barely moving.

  Antoinette tried in vain to find some dead shrub or twisted root that the horse could eat. “There’s nothing out here!” she exclaimed, kicking at a patch of ice.

  They walked along, leading the horse for a few more minutes, but finally she would not move another step.

  “Do you smell that?” Antoinette asked. “It smells like pennies.”

  “What?” Aidan turned and ran to Antoinette. “We have to get moving!” he yelled.

  “But the horse,” Antoinette argued. “We can’t just leave her!”

  “We have to!” Aidan said, urgently trying to pull Antoinette along. “The Stilling has come!”

  “Stilling?”

  But before Aidan could explain, Stormchaser’s front knees buckled. Then she lay motionless on the snow, her eyes open.

  “She’s gone, Antoinette!” Aidan screamed. “It’s part of Paragor’s curse on this place. We have to leave now, and we have to keep moving, or it’ll happen to us too!”

  Aidan looked ahead into the murk. He thought he might be able to make out a ridge of rock a few hundred yards away.

  “C’mon!” he yelled. Their muscles burned, but they pushed themselves on. And suddenly, they were there at the ridge of stone. It was closer than it had appeared. Another trick of the Black Breath, Aidan figured. He searched over the craggy rock for a cave, but there were none to be found. There was, however, another find. Wedged between some rocks, they found a buttoned leather pouch.

  “Open it!” Antoinette said.

  Aidan took off his gauntlets and practically tore the pouch open. His hands shaking, he reached inside. “It’s food!” he yelled, pulling out a strip of dried meat. He tossed it to Antoinette and found a piece for himself. It was rock-hard, but after gnawing at it for a while, they were able to bite down.

  “This is so good,” Antoinette said, chomping on a second strip.

  They each managed to wolf down five or six strips before Aidan closed the pouch. “We need to save some of this for later,” he said, standing up.

  “Wait, Aidan,” Antoinette said. “I don’t want to get up yet. Let’s just rest a second.”

  “No, we need to keep moving, remember?” But Aidan’s muscles ached worse than he thought they possibly could. Running in armor over uneven terrain with air so cold they could barely breathe had taken its toll. A short rest sounded good to Aidan. He sat down next to Antoinette and slowly pulled his knees up to his chest.

  “Cold . . . ,” Antoinette whispered. “So cold.”

  Aidan took a layer of cloth off his head and draped it over Antoinette’s shoulders.

  “Thank you, Aidan,” she said, and those were her final words.

  Aidan curled up next to her, struggled to keep his eyes open, but succumbed at last and was still.

  When Aidan woke up, he couldn’t see and he couldn’t move. He was surrounded, wrapped tight in something dark and warm. He struggled, but it was like being held in a vise. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Good morning, young Aidan,” came a loud raspy voice that seemed to vibrate through whatever it was that surrounded Aidan. “I trust you had a good night’s sleep, hmmm?”

  Wait! I know that voice! Aidan thought. “Falon?”

  “Yes, Aidan,” came the reply. “You remember old Falon, do you? Hmmm?”

  Suddenly, the grip loosened, and Aidan fell backward. He landed in the palm of a large, dark three-taloned hand. And Falon’s huge fang-filled face hung right there in front of him. “I did not think we would meet again,” she said. “But I am glad.”

  “Antoinette!” Aidan cried out.

  “I’m over here!” Antoinette said. Falon uncurled another part of her long serpentine body, and there was Antoinette, smiling like it was her birthday. “I finally get to meet Falon the Great! Her son Faethon guards King Eliam’s treasuries, and he is pretty impressive, but nothing compared to his mother! She saved us, Aidan,” she said. “We fell asleep on the Grimwalk.”

  “Not a very wise thing to do,” Falon said. “It was fortunate for you that I was in the area. When I found you, you had both begun to turn blue. But Falon’s coils warmed you right up, hmmm?”

  Aidan sat bolt upright. “But Falon, you’re out of your lair. You’re out in the open! How is that possible?”

  “Ah, you remember!” Falon laughed. “Yes, normally, to be out under sun or moon would spell the end for old Falon. But this mist, this dark canopy, is over everything from Mithegard to Alleble. I found that I could endure it.”

  “What were you doing on the Grimwalk?” Antoinette asked.

  “When I discovered that I could move about,” Falon explained, “I decided to pay Paragor a little visit. I owe him much, young Antoinette, for he and his brood have all but destroyed the race of mortiwraiths . . . taking the blood of my kind for their poison. But when I came calling to his little castle, Paragor was not at home. Pity. And there were very few of his knights about either.”

  “Paragor has taken his armies to attack Alleble,” said Aidan. “Oh, no! How long did we sleep?”

  “Since last night,” Falon replied. “It is hard to tell in this bleak mist, but I deem that it is near midday.”

  “Falon, we’ve got to get to Alleble!”

  “Paragor is there, you say?”

  “Yes,” Aidan replied. “He has a massive army.”

  “But that’s not all, Falon,” Antoinette said. “He has monsters—the Seven Sleepers and the Wyrm Lord.”

  “The Wyrm Lord, really?” Falon said, laughing mischievously. “I thought King Eliam found a nice warm spot for that old dragon.”

  “He did,” Aidan replied. “But Paragor let him out.”

  “Dangerous creature, that one,” Falon said. “But then again, so am I.”

  “Will you take us?” Aidan asked. “Will you take us to Alleble?”

  “I would do this even if I was not hungry,” said Falon. “But I am starving, yesss, famished! And I have an old score to settle with Paragor.”

  36

  THE COMING

  OF DARKNESS

  From their team’s vantage point Mallik and Nock could see the world was roofed with a dark, swirling mantle of storm clouds. The turbulent clouds extended above the city, but the shadowy pall below advanced only within a hundred yards of the main gate. Lightning crackled overhead, illuminating the city and the pale faces of many warriors in an eerie green light. Thunder rolled and crashed.

  “What is it?” Mallik asked, staring out from a great height on the parapet of the new city walls.

  “It is certainly not like any storm I have ever seen before,” said Nock, and he adjusted the leather straps across his shoulders. He was not used to wearing two quivers—his usual quiver filled with Blackwood Arrows for his longbow on his back and now a smaller hard leather quiver full of bolts for the arbalest at his side.

  “Paragor’s devilry, no doubt,” said Sir Rogan, finger
ing his axe.

  “Well, let him come,” Mallik said. “He will find the walls of adorite hard enough to break his teeth on.” Robby and Trenna laughed.

  “Adorite?” asked Thrivenbard, his eyebrow raised.

  “So named by King Brower,” Mallik replied. “Delved by my kin from the face of Pennath Ador, this white rock is the hardest stone in all The Realm. Adorite it is called, the glorystone.”

  “I have heard it called by another name,” said Halberad, “as I ran errands among your people at the foot of the mountains. They called it faercrag. What does that mean?”

  Mallik laughed. “That is fire rock in the old language of my people.”

  Halberad nodded. “Ah, I should have guessed!”

  “Now, I do not understand,” came a quiet voice from behind.

  “Ah, Sir Valden,” said Thrivenbard. “You were so quiet I did not notice you standing there.”

  “Just wait until the fighting starts,” Robby said, grinning. Valden’s peaceful eyes narrowed, and he glared at Robby. When Robby’s smile disappeared, Valden grinned and they both laughed.

  “To answer your question,” Mallik explained, “some call the white stone fire rock due to its peculiar reaction to blunt force. Often when we struck the rock with our picks and hammers, it would spark. And—”

  “That is not unusual,” interrupted Sir Rogan. “There are other stones that do that . . . flint, slate, and such.”

  “To spark? Yes, that is common,” Mallik said. “But you did not let me finish. The adorite does more than spark. On an especially hard strike, a lick of white fire would appear. Its heat was intense—a few of my brethren were burned. But then we learned to flush the stone with snowmelt as we worked!”

  The knights continued to talk casually among themselves, but while the smiles and laughter were brave, they were also full of apprehension. None of them had seen anything like what they were witnessing. And they knew that somewhere in the heart of that darkness, Paragor and his armies were coming.

  Near another part of the battlements, Kaliam and Farix led Warriant and all three thousand of his Baleneers up an avenue. The Glimpses of Alleble and all of the citizens of their allies stared out at the newcomers. They were fierce in countenance and wore peculiar shingled armor on their chest and shoulders, but none save boots on their legs.