The Door Within

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  “Yes, but—”

  “And,” Falon interrupted, “you said you need to get to the other side of these caverns so that you can save your friends, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then, young one, I suggest we leave soon, for the sun has set.

  When it rises again, the Paragor Knights will march toward their black kingdom.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Aidan replied. “Though I still have no idea what I’m going to do once I get there. What good is one person against an army?”

  “You are a servant of Alleble, aren’t you?” Falon asked, staring intently at Aidan.

  “Yes, I am,” Aidan answered, the meaning of Falon’s question becoming clear. Fresh hope surged in his heart. “I am a servant of Alleble, and I am never alone!”

  “That’s the spirit, young one!”

  “Aidan, my name is Aidan.”

  “Then, young Aidan, I shall hold Fury, and you climb onto my back,” Falon said, smiling and extending an arm like a ramp for Aidan. “It is a long journey to the Black Crescent . . . a journey full of winding caverns and hidden pitfalls. It will be faster and far safer for you to ride.”

  Aidan carefully clambered up. He examined the creature a little differently now that he wasn’t afraid of being eaten. The morti-wraith was scaled in layers like a dragon, but each scale was different and beautiful in its own way. Some were deep purple or blue like the luminous stalactites from the cavern’s roof. Others were the dark green of the cavern floor. But all had embedded stones and precious gems. Aidan supposed the color and the gems had rubbed off as Falon traveled through the tunnels beneath the mountains.

  As he climbed to her neck and sat down, he thought that Falon was a beautiful creature—though nevertheless fearsome in a pinch.

  “Hold on to my hair, young Aidan,” warned Falon. “I know every twist and turn of these caverns, so I tend to navigate them rather swiftly!”

  Aidan gripped a couple of the thick cords of the creature’s dark purple hair. He felt like he always did before a ride blasted off at the amusement park.

  In moments, Falon began trotting along, increasing speed as she went. Aidan looked back and watched almost in a trance as Falon’s numerous legs rose and fell rhythmically like pistons all along her lengthy body. How many legs does she have? he wondered.

  The eerie blue light continued wherever Falon turned, and Aidan saw the openings to innumerable tunnels and caverns. And he knew there was no way he’d have ever made it through without Falon.

  Her speed increased more and more, until she began to make turns, banking hard left and right. Struggling for a better grip, Aidan held on to Falon’s ropelike locks for dear life as the air whipped by him. The muscles in Aidan’s forearms burned with pain, and he screamed when his entire body went airborne as Falon dove low into underground valleys. When Falon leveled out each time, Aidan slammed into the back of her neck.

  Unlike any roller coaster Aidan had ever ridden, Falon’s ride seemed to last forever. Up, down, hard left, jerk right—all the while zooming at breakneck speed. He tried to look backward and sideways, but everything was now a blur of various shades of purple, blue, black, and green.

  If this ride didn’t end soon, Aidan thought, he would surely fall off and be lost forever in these puzzling caverns.

  Eventually, the air whistled a little less in Aidan’s ears, and he sensed that Falon was slowing down. When she finally came to an abrupt stop, Aidan slid off her neck, down one of her front legs, and plowed facefirst into the mossy tunnel floor. He sat up and clutched at his forearms—they burned as if thrust into a furnace.

  “Well, young Aidan,” Falon said, breathing in heavy huffs and handing him Fury, “not bad for an old mortiwraith, hmmm?”

  Aidan had to laugh in spite of the pain. “Yes, that was quite fast.” He chuckled. “You just about bounced me off three or four times!”

  “Well, young Aidan, I am glad you survived, for I guess you have much to do,” said Falon, pointing with one clawed hand to the wide paths ahead. “Come this way, for these passages you see before you open into the caves of the Black Crescent.”

  Aidan followed Falon up the middle path. He had to walk to the side of her never-ending body as she half slithered, half crawled up the path.

  “Falon, how many sets of legs do you have, anyway?” he asked.

  “Many . . . ,” she replied with an amused snort. “Mortiwraiths grow a new pair of limbs every five years, and as you can see . . . I’ve been around for quite some time.”

  The path wound onward and upward a short distance until, finally, the blue light of the caverns began to fade and was replaced by the subtle gray of night. The path ended, and an incredibly vast opening was before them. It was an opening to the plains of the Black Crescent. Aidan looked out, and he could see where the mountains got their name. The moonlit black peaks curled left and right before tapering off toward the horizon.

  Inside the Crescent was an enormous plain dotted with hills and craggly trees. Aidan’s attention was drawn to the center of the plain, for there was an immense dark mass, dotted with the light of torches and campfires. It was the army of Paragory—they were still there!

  Great! Aidan thought. Now all I have to do is sneak past a thousand heavily armed soldiers, release Gwenne and the other prisoners from Mithegard, and get back out without anyone noticing.

  “I’ll be back in a second,” Aidan whispered to Falon, and he ventured out of the cave. He needed to get closer to the enemy camp if there was any hope of finding out where they were keeping their prisoners. Gwenne’s life depended on his coming up with a plan of rescue, and the odds of his success were stacked heavily against him.

  There were patches of tall dead grass everywhere, and Aidan crouched down as he passed through it to avoid being seen. As he did, a few tiny glimmers of light sprang to life in the grass. LANTERN SPIDERS! Aidan realized immediately. He had jostled them awake as he walked through the tall grass. They seemed to be all over the place, for every step Aidan took, the spiders’ lights blinked on.

  Aidan smiled, remembering early in the journey to Mithegard how terrified he had been, thinking that the lantern spiders were torch-bearing soldiers preparing an ambush.

  Man, I need to catch some of these to take home, Aidan thought. If I ever get out of here!

  He wandered through the tall grass as close as he dared to the Paragor Knights’ camp. Aidan suspected they would have numerous sentries, watching for the slightest hint of an intruder. Sure enough, there were soldiers moving around in the camp. They were marching back and forth near the many tents. Aidan guessed that Gwenne and the other prisoners must be somewhere in the center tents—much more difficult for them to escape, or be rescued, for that matter.

  There’s no way I’m going in and out of there, unless, Aidan thought, unless I could somehow get some of the Paragor Knights’ armor . . . Maybe Falon would have some in her treasures! Still . . . they wouldn’t just let me walk out of there with Gwenne and the others.

  Aidan knew there had to be a way. The King of Alleble wouldn’t have brought him this far only to have him fail. So, Aidan looked from one end of the camp to the other. Then, he looked into the mountains and all over the plains. Could he start an avalanche? Nope, no good. The rocks would barely reach the camp. Maybe a fire . . . the tall dead grass would burn easily enough, but perhaps only enough to let the enemy know his position. Okay, so that’s not going to work, but then what?

  There just didn’t seem to be much to work with: rocks, grass, a small stream that wound behind the enemy’s camp. Aidan’s eyes wandered along that tiny stream.

  Strangely, it disappeared into a large dark clump of something. Trees maybe? Aidan stared at the huge mass, and he couldn’t tell if his eyes were playing tricks on him or not, but it seemed like it was moving . . . how strange. Aidan shrugged and hurried back to the caves to talk to Falon.

  He sprinted through the tall grass and hurtled up the hill into t
he caves. Falon lay there, her eyes gleaming somehow even in nearly complete darkness. “See anything useful, hmmm, young Aidan?”

  “There are guards all over the place,” Aidan replied shaking his head. “I might be able to sneak in, but I don’t know . . . there are so many!”

  “I wish I could help,” Falon growled. “But even though the moon is veiled in clouds at this hour, it would be enough to finish me.”

  “What is that big gray clump beyond the camp?” Aidan asked, pointing toward the horizon.

  “That, young Aidan, is a massive herd of blackhorne,” Falon replied. “They graze upon the tall grasses. Mmmmm, what a feast that would be.”

  “Blackhorne, huh?” Aidan replied absently, his thoughts wandering. But suddenly, he felt a peculiar prickle on his neck. In a quick, reflexive movement, he swiped at his neck repeatedly.

  “Looks like you picked up a stowaway while you were out playing in the grass,” Falon laughed.

  Aidan looked down at the floor of the cave, and there, skittering around, blinking frantically, was a rather large lantern spider.

  “Yuck!” Aidan exclaimed. “That thing was on me?!”

  In that moment, Aidan became very still. Something clicked in his mind. It was like turning the last number of a combination lock.

  A memory flittered through his mind, and the pieces of the plan came together all at once.

  “Falon!” Aidan nearly shouted. “I think I know how I’m going to rescue my friends! And I think you can help!”

  “Tell me, young Aidan,” Falon replied, her enormous ears perking up like a bat’s wings.

  After Aidan explained his plan, a wide, mischievous smile spread across Falon’s face. “Mmmm . . . sounds like a delicious plan,” she said.

  “Can you bring me those items from your treasures?” Aidan asked.

  “Oh, yesss indeed!” Falon replied, turning back toward the tunnels. “I will make all speed, for the night will not wait for those who tarry.”

  30

  THE PHANTOM ARMY

  Falon returned in moments—apparently, she had been moving rather cautiously earlier, but with Aidan off her back, she was able to hurtle quickly through the tunnels and caverns beneath the mountains.

  “Here is everything you asked for,” Falon said, opening a hefty canvas satchel she had flung around her neck. “One Horn of War, quite loud, for I remember the fellow who carried it blowing it like mad when he saw me! Guaranteed to get the attention you want. One clay pot with a lid, large enough, hmmm? One longbow—it is from the Blackwood, the best there is—and a quiver full of arrows. And, of course, the armor and helmet of a Paragor Knight. It may not fit you just right, but it was the only one I could find that wasn’t fouled or much too big. Oh, and this, I thought you might want a sheath for the sword of Valithor. It is heavy, hmmm?”

  Aidan was amazed. “This is great, Falon, really. I can’t thank you enough!” he said excitedly.

  “Well, young Aidan,” Falon replied playfully, “it is for Sir Valithor that I do this. But if your plan works out the way you described, you will have paid me back many times over, hmmm? Go now, save your friends! I will be waiting. . . .”

  “Good-bye, Falon!” Aidan called after her. “I hope we meet again some day!”

  “Perhaps.” Falon’s voice echoed, then faded.

  Never alone, Aidan thought as he struggled to strap on the Paragor armor. He felt creepy putting on the black-and-crimson armor of the enemy, and the helmet was plainly too big, but it had to be done for the plan to work. The quiver of arrows slid easily over his shoulders, and the War Horn hung around his neck, but he had to carry the longbow in one hand and the clay pot in the other.

  Aidan hopped cautiously out of the cave and down the little hill into the tall grass. Immediately, lantern spiders began to blink all around him. Aidan needed both hands for the clay pot, so he put down his longbow. As fast as he could, he meticulously began plucking the black-and-green arachnids from their webs in the grass and putting them in the clay pot. Aidan had never asked if the things were poisonous, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way.

  I wonder if anyone who dies from lantern spider bites would glow in the dark? With such thoughts, he continued brushing through the tall grass, grabbing every lantern spider that gave itself away by lighting up. Fortunately, the lantern spiders were numerous, and in a short time he had the great clay pot stuffed with hundreds of unhappy glowing critters.

  With stage one completed, Aidan put the lid on the clay pot, picked up his longbow, and ran as fast as he could for the herd. The enemy’s camp was between Aidan and the blackhorne, so he took a long, curving route to get to the animals. As he ran, the War Horn smacked against his armor on the front, and the quiver of arrows smacked him on the back, and worse still, his helmet kept sliding over one side of his face. Even so, Aidan hurried on.

  Aidan could smell the large beasts long before he reached them. It was a mixture of thick animal sweat and tons of freshly deposited manure, and it was not pleasant. He wished he had a third hand to pinch his nose shut.

  Blackhorne were similar to cows, Aidan noticed, but much, much bigger. Their coats were jet black and extremely shaggy, and all of them had a set of thick horns that protruded from the sides of their skulls and ran backward to a sharp point.

  As Aidan got closer, he was surprised at the size of the herd: There were thousands of blackhorne. And even though they were peacefully munching on the dead grass, they looked dangerous. And Aidan was counting on that!

  Aidan ran to where the blackhorne were closest to the camp of the Paragor Knights. There he again put down his longbow and opened the spider-filled clay pot. Swiftly, he took out the spiders, one at a time, and placed them atop the heads of the blackhorne. Most of the big, smelly animals didn’t notice the spiders, though a few snorted and flopped their ears around a little. Aidan repeated the process over and over and over again, until the clay pot was empty and well over a hundred blackhorne had little glowing hitchhikers.

  Then, he discarded the clay pot, retrieved his longbow, and circled around behind the herd. There seemed to be enough of the tall dead grass. There would have to be, for there was no time to cut and gather piles of grass—no, this would have to do.

  Now begins the most dangerous part of the plan, Aidan thought as he reached down and picked up some mud. He smeared the dark, muddy soil on his face and all over the armor. Then, he drew Fury.

  Aidan put the blade to his forearm and gritted his teeth. In one swift motion, he ran the sword across his arm, opening a large gash from which blood began to pour. He let the warm red fluid run down his arm and drip on his clothing, then his armor—he even spattered some on his helmet. The wound on his arm would leave an ugly scar, but it would be a scar Aidan would wear proudly . . . if he survived.

  His costume complete, Aidan began the long run back toward the Paragor camp.

  “Great King of Alleble,” he said aloud. “Be with me, please, and guide me!”

  With only a hundred yards between him and a thousand Paragor Knights, Aidan stopped and took in the deepest breath of nighttime air he could manage. He put the War Horn to his lips and let loose a tremendous blast on the horn. Its sound was a blend of a freight train and a thunderclap, and it echoed off the mountains of the Black Crescent. Again and again, Aidan blew the horn, shattering the quiet of the night.

  Then, as Aidan sprinted again toward his enemies, he saw frenzied movement in the camp. He slowed down as he neared the first tent and began to hobble-run, dragging his left leg as if it were broken. Suddenly, a deep voice rang out from the shadows. “Halt! Declare yourself or be shot dead!”

  “It’s me, Dreadlock!” Aidan replied, giving the most evil-sounding name he could think of. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I was bringing a message from our master when I was attacked by some scouts from Alleble.”

  “What’s this you say?!” exclaimed a huge ironclad Paragor warrior. Many other Paragor Knights were drawing sword
s and running up to join him.

  “I barely escaped with my life,” Aidan explained, trying to deepen his voice. “The armies of Alleble are on the way—thousands and thousands of knights. As I ran, I could see their torches behind me and hear the thunder of their steeds.”

  “I see nothing!” complained a short, stocky slant-eyed Paragor Knight. “Where are they?”

  “Just over that ridge!” Aidan swallowed hard—they didn’t seem to believe him, so he summoned his courage and lashed out at the Paragor Knights. “Listen, you fools! We can stand around here arguing until they swoop down on us and cut us to shreds! Or we can man the catapults and make ready for battle!”

  There was a great murmuring among the knights until, finally, the tall one spoke again. “I don’t see any—wait! There is something there. I see lights, lights in the shadows! We must make haste! Prepare the catapults!” He bellowed, pointing his long sword at the other knights. “Knights of Paragory, draw your blades, dip your arrowheads, for tonight we get to slay the armies of Alleble!”

  The moment the order was given, the whole camp erupted in a flurry of activity. Well-armed knights ran every which way—some carrying supplies, others relaying orders, and still others manning their posts at the catapults. All of the knights near Aidan ran off as well—except one: the short, stocky Glimpse.

  “You say you came from Paragor himself, bearing a message, eh?” he said, eying Aidan suspiciously. “Well then, what was the message?”

  Aidan hadn’t thought that far, but before he could answer, another Paragor Glimpse appeared and ordered the short one away. For the moment, Aidan was left alone and pretty much ignored. Aidan whistled a sigh of relief.

  Then, dodging other knights as he went, Aidan started searching. There were boxes and crates everywhere, but so far he didn’t see any barrels. After a brief moment of despair, he realized that the barrels would have to be near the catapults. Aidan ran from catapult to catapult, searching for the barrels he needed.