For days, Aidan had been forced to survive on very little food. So when Kaliam mentioned being fed, Aidan’s stomach churned with hunger.
But perhaps even overpowering his other felt needs was the desire to rest. He wanted sleep in the worst way. But a young attendant from King Ravelle’s court insisted on tending Aidan’s arm.
“This dressing will need to be changed twice a day,” the attendant said. “Or else the wound could turn green and you could lose that arm. Do you understand?”
Aidan nodded yes.
“There, that should do it,” said the attendant. “Now, I think your friends will lead you to your quarters and a soft bed.”
A bed sounded like paradise.
Kaliam led Aidan and Gwenne inside a cottage near the kingdom’s outer walls and showed each of them to a room. Aidan fell into his room’s small bed.
As he lay there, tears flooded his tired eyes. In such a short time, he had witnessed unspeakable horrors. So many innocent souls slain and cast aside. He thought of Eleazar, Matthias, Bolt, and Captain Valithor—friends for far too short a time.
Aidan awoke to the sound of Kaliam banging on his door. “Arise, Sir Sluggabed, arise!” Kaliam bellowed. “Or do you plan to sleep another day away?”
Another day? Aidan thought with a start. He ran to the door and let Kaliam in.
“How long have I been in here?” Aidan asked.
“Almost a day and a half,” Kaliam replied with a smile. “Now, up with you. I’ve drawn you a warm bath and filled a table with food. Make haste, for we must leave for Alleble in time for the great ceremony.”
“What ceremony?” Aidan asked, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“What ceremony?” Kaliam echoed. “Why, tomorrow is the last day of Minuet, what you call July. Ere dawn, we will go to the fountains to celebrate many things and to remember.”
With that, Kaliam was gone. A bath had been drawn for him, so Aidan bathed. And in the washing away of those stains, it seemed a great burden was lifted from Aidan’s heart. He was rid of the filth, rid of the evidence of the evils he had lived. But not all reminders had been washed away. Wounds, there were still. Some would be treated and vanish. Others could not be healed by salve or bandage, and scars would remain.
Aidan’s spirits lifted more as he dressed in the silver of Alleble. And he was amazed at the armor that was left out for him to wear. For upon his new breastplate, engraved with careful artistry, was the symbol of the sun rising between the two mountains. He was equipped also with a new belt for his sword. And as he slid Fury into its sheath, he discovered that it did not feel as heavy as it had. In fact, the blade did not drag the ground any longer. It was as if the armor was custom-made just for him.
Moments later a small feast was delivered, and Aidan ate. He ate a lot.
With a contented, overstuffed grin on his face, Aidan sat at a table in the cottage until Gwenne came in.
“Good evening, Sir Aidan,” she said. “I’m glad you’ve eaten, for it is time to go. Kaliam has saddled several dragons for our return trip to Alleble.”
Aidan nodded and stood. And it seemed that Gwenne was awestruck. She stared at Aidan and went pink in the face.
“What’s the matter?” Aidan asked, feeling like he’d put his armor on wrong again. He checked his couters, just to be sure.
“Nothing, Sir Aidan,” she replied. “It is just that you look different in your new armor.” And she would say no more.
They left the cottage, and as they walked through the courtyard, Aidan looked around with amazement. The last time he had seen Mithegard’s courtyard, it was soaked with blood and littered with the bodies of knights from three armies. But now, it was totally cleared. The Knights of Alleble, led by Tal, had been busy reforming it from a place of horrors to a place that could be rebuilt.
There was much evidence still of the tremendous battle: stone was cracked and shattered, buildings were reduced to rubble, and anything wooden was charred or rent. And worst of all, the once-proud Castle of Mithegard lay in ruins, its seven towers laid low.
Kaliam, Nock, Farix, and Mallik greeted Aidan and Gwenne when they entered the stables and pens behind the remains of the castle.
“Ah, Sir Aidan and Lady Gwenne, good evening to you both,” said Kaliam, bowing low. Mallik, Nock, and Farix simply stared at Aidan.
Mallik seemed especially affected, and he turned and whispered something in Nock’s ear.
Kaliam spoke again. “We have a long journey ahead of us this evening. Let’s mount up, shall we? Gwenne, your own dragon, Gabby, is here for you to ride. And Sir Aidan, if you will, join me on Blazewing. I would like to hear of your adventures since we parted the day of the battle.”
“No fair!” said Mallik, his coppery brows in a knot. “Sir Aidan was to ride with me! Indeed, I am in need of something to distract me from the smell of the beast I must ride!”
The dark green dragon near Mallik flexed its wings and growled.
“You see?” exclaimed Mallik.
“I will ride with you,” said Nock with a wry grin. “I have tales to tell you of my brother Bolt that may distract you from your fear of flying.”
“What! Fear of flying?” Mallik objected. And he mumbled something inaudible.
“What say you, Sir Aidan?” asked Kaliam.
“Gladly, Kaliam,” Aidan replied. “But first, have you heard any news of the King of Mithegard? Did he make it to Alleble? Or was he . . . was he killed in the battle?”
Gwenne and Kaliam exchanged odd glances before Kaliam answered hesitantly. “The King of Mithegard was not found among the dead, Sir Aidan. But many have passed between here and Alleble since the siege.”
It wasn’t totally disheartening news, but it didn’t guarantee anything about Aidan’s father.
So Aidan tried to put his anxiety aside for the trip. After all, he had never ridden awake on a dragon before! He had been unconscious when Gabby had brought him to Alleble, so this time he planned on enjoying the ride.
32
THE KNIGHT
OF THE DAWN
The creatures began to extend and flap their awesome batlike wings. Dirt and dry grass swirled beneath them, and one by one the dragons went airborne. Watching the ground fall away so quickly stole Aidan’s breath, but he kept his eyes open as the recognizable trees, hills, and mountains shrank into a patchwork quilt—colored crimson by the setting sun. And as the light faded, stars began to blink to life in the vast night sky. Aidan stared at the stars and wondered how anything could be so beautiful.
Kaliam interrupted Aidan’s thoughts to ask him how he had rescued Gwenne, so Aidan told him the entire tale, beginning with the terrifying walk down Falon’s Stair and the secret of the labyrinth.
“You mean there is no maze?” Kaliam had asked. “It was the creature itself ?!”
“An amazing creature,” Aidan had replied.
Kaliam listened in awe to Aidan’s adventures. His tale lasted for several hours, and when it was over, Kaliam had simply replied, “Well done, servant of the King . . . well done.”
Kaliam began to tell of his own adventures, but the rhythmic beat of the dragon’s wings pulled Aidan into a deep, peaceful sleep. And Aidan slept through the rest of the trip.
After the landing, the knights dismounted. Kaliam carried Aidan to his chamber and laid him, armor and all, on his bed.
There came a soft knock at Aidan’s door. It was Gwenne. Her armor was gone and she again wore the beautiful jewel-studded lavender dress she had worn the first time Aidan had seen her.
“I let you sleep as much as I could,” she said. “But come now, for we do not want the sun to rise without us.”
It was all rather mysterious, and as he trotted down the stairs, Aidan wondered what to expect from the celebration. Gwenne would not tell him anything. She simply smiled and said, “Come and see.”
Finally, they left the stairs, turned the corner, and walked out of the gatehouse into the blue-gray before dawn. And Aidan
stood as one turned to stone. He gazed out into the main thoroughfare of Alleble, but it was not the Seven Fountains that made him still. For such a crowd was gathered there as Aidan had never seen. It seemed that every Glimpse in Alleble must be there, shoulder to shoulder, side by side, all around the fountains and upon every foot of available space along the entire expanse of the road. And all were absolutely silent—even the tiniest of children seemed to know the reverence of the moment and made no sound.
There, before Aidan and Gwenne, standing on a podium con- structed in the heart of the dry seventh fountain, was a tall Glimpse. But his back was turned so that he could face the gathering.
He seemed to know that someone was behind him, and he turned his head and smiled.
Aidan was stricken with gladness, for it was King Ravelle of Mithegard. He had survived after all. He gestured for Aidan and Gwenne to come closer, and the crowd parted and let them through. When they stood near, King Ravelle began to speak.
“Good people of Alleble, Glimpses young and old,” he said, his voice like thunder announcing rain after a drought. “This is a solemn occasion, and I do not feel fit to speak to you who know what I have only just learned. But if for no other reason than gratitude, I will speak.”
Aidan stared at his father’s Glimpse, straining to see the color of his eyes.
“Today we mourn,” said the King. “We mourn the loss of a champion. And I say ‘we,’ for were it not for his valor, I and the rest of my people would have perished. For the noble Captain Valithor died—in much the same way as he always lived, I am told—in sacrifice!”
Aidan’s eyes grew wet. Gwenne reached down and their hands met.
“And it was his sacrifice and the sacrifice of many from your beloved land that has brought me and my kingdom to this point.”
If the vast crowd had been silent before, it became more silent still, and they waited on King Ravelle’s words.
“We Mithegardians were a proud nation. Our Seven Towers stood tall, and we were pleased to be alone. I am sorrowful to confess that it was I who drew us away from Alleble. For though many of you do not know this, I was born in Alleble. My father was a great servant of King Eliam.”
King Ravelle’s father? Aidan’s mind raced. He had never really thought about it before. But he reasoned that if everyone on Earth had a Glimpse, and Grampin’s Glimpse was Captain Valithor, then . . .
The King drew in a deep breath and continued. “But when my mother died, I was filled with grief . . . and with wrath. But I blamed King Eliam most of all, for it was he who sent my mother on her final journey. I forsook Alleble, and in my youthful rebellion I fled to Mithegard. I fled from my father because he did not blame King Eliam, and he would not abandon his trust in your King. In all that time while I squired and trained to be a knight for Mithegard, while I campaigned and became King, while I ruled selfishly over my people—all that time I shut my father out. And now, I have lost him, but not before he taught me the single most important lesson of all.”
Aidan squeezed Gwenne’s hand.
“You see, my father, Captain Valithor, told me . . . ,” began King Ravelle, and his thunderous voice faltered. A collective gasp like a wave surged through the crowd. Tears ran freely down the faces of every Glimpse, and Aidan as well. King Ravelle mastered himself and continued. “He told me about King Eliam—about the sacrifice he made on the balcony behind where I now stand. And in my bitterness, I did not believe him. But I have seen the truth of his words in the lives of all who serve the Kingdom of Alleble. I saw it when your people came to me and showed me real offers of peace. I saw it when your knights, with no care for their own lives, defended my city. I saw it when my father laid down his life for a friend! So, I come here to mourn with you, for I have lost as you have lost. But also I come to confess. So hear me, Glimpses of Alleble! Hear me, as I confess with my lips that I will return to Mithegard. The Seven Towers shall be rebuilt, and forevermore they will be allied with the Seven Fountains! For as for me and my kingdom, we shall serve King Eliam the Everlasting!”
A roaring cheer rose up from the crowd, and it seemed that they all spoke with one great voice, with one accord that it was good and right.
King Ravelle descended the podium while the cheers continued, and he sprang lightly over the fountain wall and ran to Aidan.
“I spoke of you just now,” he said. “When you offered your sword to the enemy—do you remember?”
Aidan could say nothing. He simply nodded and stared into the eyes of his father’s Glimpse. His eyes glinted blue and he embraced Aidan.
“You know,” said King Ravelle, drawing back and holding Aidan by the shoulders, “I have a son, but my wife grew tired of my self-seeking ways, and she left Mithegard and took him away while he was very young. I hope wherever he is that he has grown into a lad like you.”
Aidan cried tears of joy and he smiled, thinking, Oh, I have a hunch he’s a lot like me.
The King turned as Kaliam strode forward.
“King Ravelle?” Aidan said, and he glanced at Gwenne. He wasn’t sure if he should ask. Gwenne, for once, had not guessed his thoughts. She just stared back at him quizzically.
“Uh, one moment, Kaliam,” said the King. “Yes, Aidan?”
“Your son . . .”
“Yes.” King Ravelle looked at him strangely.
“Well, I was wondering, what is his name?”
Gwenne shot Aidan a glance that was half curious and half worried. She apparently didn’t know if Aidan was allowed to ask such a thing either.
“Aelic,” said the King. “His name is Aelic. It means, One who overcomes fear.”
Suddenly, trumpets rang out, and the crowd once again was as silent as stars seen from a hilltop in the wild. Kaliam stood at the podium in the seventh fountain. He waited, for what? Aidan could not tell. But Aidan saw Kaliam in a new light as he stood there, tall, broad-shouldered, wearing the silver armor of Alleble and mantled with a dark blue cloak. Princely, he looked now, commanding. Until then he had always seemed so, well . . . regular. It was the only word Aidan could think of, for Kaliam had always been the most friendly, joking with everyone and sharing advice with Aidan. Before, he had always dutifully followed in Captain Valithor’s shadow. Aidan wondered what had changed about him.
Finally, Kaliam spoke. His voice did not carry the thunder of King Ravelle’s voice, but it was clear and precise. And those who heard him understood and felt as if Kaliam were speaking directly to each of them personally.
“Captain Valithor shall be remembered,” he said, “in the lore of Alleble and in all of our hearts forever. King Eliam has decreed that our great Captain shall be laid to rest in Mithegard, not Alleble, so that he may be near his son.”
Kaliam smiled warmly down at King Ravelle.
“But this morning,” Kaliam continued, “this morning is not solely about grief ! For though many of their kin have fallen, Mithegard is now allied with Alleble, and not even death can break that union! We must welcome the Glimpses of Mithegard, and we must come alongside our new brothers as they rebuild what was wrongly destroyed.”
Kaliam went silent and looked into the crowd from face to face. He raised his fist and spoke again. “No, this morning is not solely for grief ! For though we stand where of old the Great Betrayal was consummated, this is also the hallowed ground of Alleble’s greatest victory! For it was here that King Eliam rose with the dawn and cast out the enemy! And today, as the sun rises between the peaks of Pennath Ador, we have the privilege to add a name to the King’s Hall.”
Entranced by Kaliam’s words, Aidan was shocked when two knights escorted him to the podium. He stood there shaking, for he was now visible to every Glimpse in Alleble. But there was something else, some immense gravity to what was about to happen.
Kaliam smiled down at Aidan. “Do you see, fine Glimpse-kind?” Kaliam said, turning Aidan to face the crowds. “Do you see the armor worn by this young lad? Perhaps you cannot yet. But you will. For though Aidan wil
l not remain among us for much longer, he will remain a hero of Alleble forever. For his bravery in the face of a terrible enemy, for his valor on the field of battle, and for his faith when there seemed no hope at all—this day, Aidan is named Knight of the Dawn!”
The crowd roared with cheers, but it was abruptly muted. And a great golden light blazed behind Aidan.
Turn around, Aidan, a voice said.
Aidan turned and looked into the light. And this time, it did not burn. All images faded in the brilliance, but Aidan saw clearly, up on the huge castle balcony, a lone figure. He was dressed in white armor, and a great white robe waved around him. And the light shone forth from him. Aidan knew him, for it was his voice that drew Aidan beyond The Door Within. It was King Eliam the Everlasting!
Aidan could not see his face, but he felt that he was looking into the eyes of hope. And indeed, as he stared at King Eliam, Aidan was filled with a peace like he had never known. It was as if every good and precious experience in his life had somehow been captured and was channeled through the King’s eyes. The proud, desperate love of his parents looking down on their newborn son, the feel of cool water on a hot day, Robby’s grin as they waded in the creek, the comfort of blankets against the cold whispering wind outside, the feel of Gwenne’s hand in his, the sun rising over the Atlantic Ocean . . .
Then King Eliam raised one hand high, and a clear beam of the purest white light streamed forth and fell upon Aidan’s breastplate. The image engraved there, the sun rising between two mountains, blazed with that same white light, like molten iron fresh from the fire.
And then the light dimmed, and Aidan could hear the crowds once again. He turned to them, and they saw his armor then. And behold, the light of dawn poured into the thoroughfare. For the sun had finally risen between the majestic peaks of Pennath Ador.
And Aidan wept, for the fountains of Alleble were all aglow with the splendid rays of the rising sun. And King Eliam spoke once again, My good and faithful servant, well done.
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