The Final Storm tdw-3

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  Aidan smiled and shrugged. “Not really.” There’s a lot about me that’s changed, Aidan thought.

  They played catch while the morning sun climbed, until Robby yelled, “Punt the ball to me and then try and catch me! I’ve got a move for ya!” Aidan kicked the ball high in the air. Robby caught it and rumbled toward Aidan. Robby was fast, and he juked to the left to get by his friend. But Aidan paid no attention to the move. He watched Robby’s waist and slammed into his buddy like a freight train. Robby sprawled backward on the turf, and the football came loose and tumbled away.

  Aidan held out a hand and helped Robby to his feet. “Nice hit,” Robby muttered, followed by a cough. “I was fixin’ to fake you out, but you nailed me.”

  Robby shook his head as he walked over to pick up the football he had dropped.

  “Mmm.” Aidan smiled, his mouth full of pizza. “Bambinos!”

  “Thanks for getting us pizza, Dad,” Robby said.

  “I figured two strong boys like yourselves could use a big lunch,” said Mr. Pierson. He patted Robby on the shoulder as if he had always been dear old Dad, but Aidan noticed that Robby flinched ever so slightly.

  “So what are you boys going to do now?”

  Robby shrugged. “Maybe play some video games. What do you want to do, Aidan?”

  Aidan felt Mr. Pierson’s gaze falling steadily upon him. “That’d be good,” Aidan replied. “What games do you have?”

  “Name it,” Robby replied. He got up and took his plate to the sink. “Dad got me all the systems. And a bucket of games for each.”

  “Cool!” Aidan said as he stood.

  “C’mon,” Robby said, and he made his way to the door to the basement. “I’ve got a really nice setup down here…” Robby hesitated. “Oh yeah, I forgot. You don’t like basements very much, do you?”

  “Really not a problem anymore,” Aidan said, grabbing his backpack and heading down the stairs.

  Robby’s basement was divided into two areas joined by a door at the bottom of the stairs. One side was comfortable, furnished, and cheery. That was where Robby and Aidan used to hang out. The other side, the work side, was exactly the opposite. It was a cold, shadowy place filled with rotting scrap wood and all manner of tools. Cobwebs adorned every corner, and the cinderblock walls had been stained long ago by some dark substance. The one light on the work side rarely worked. It hung from the ceiling like a hangman’s noose.

  “So basements don’t bother you anymore?” Robby said, and he too glanced at the work-side door.

  “We used to work ourselves up pretty good,” Aidan replied. Inwardly he struggled. He knew that Robby had presented him with a perfect opportunity to talk to him about the Scrolls. But that strange feeling he’d had earlier-like there were invisible enemies all around-was back and stronger.

  “You want to play NHL Hockey Supreme?” Robby asked. “Or wait, I’ve got this cool two-player adventure game called Oswald’s Quest. I bet you’d like that.”

  Three hours later, the boys were still playing Oswald’s Quest. And while Aidan seemed on the outside totally engrossed in hunting huge, hairy goblins, collecting piles of gold, and buying weapons and armor, he was really just playing on autopilot. Inside, his mind whirled. Get the Scrolls and tell him! he kept urging himself. But other thoughts kept complicating it. Why was Robby’s dad here? Why was he so interested in Aidan’s backpack? Why did he want Aidan to leave Robby alone?

  “Score!” Robby exclaimed. “We did it! We got to the final level! I could never do it by myself. I wonder what the monster’s gonna be.”

  Aidan snapped out of his trance and looked at the screen. Robby moved his sword-wielding character near the opening to a massive cave where he could ambush whatever came out. Aidan directed his bowman character into a covering position in the boughs of a tree. Aidan and Robby watched as a three-headed dragon slowly emerged from the cave. Robby attacked immediately, unleashing huge chopping strokes on the creature’s scaled belly. Most swordstrikes did no damage, but the ones that struck the dragon’s chest did. Each time Robby slashed there, all three of the dragon’s heads roared, and the creature’s eyes flashed bright red.

  Suddenly, one of the dragon’s heads plucked Aidan’s archer from the tree and began to gobble him up in a very colorful way. But Aidan was not concerned any longer about the game. Seeing the red eyes flash cut through Aidan’s indecision at last. He put down his controller and went to his backpack and fished out the Scrolls.

  “Aidan, you’re gettin’ walloped!” Robby said, peppering the buttons on his controller.

  “Robby, could you put it on pause for a minute?” Aidan asked as he sat down next to Robby on the floor and began to untie the Scrolls.

  “Okay. What is that?” Robby asked. The basement became eerily silent.

  “Robby, this is what I’ve been trying to tell you about ever since I left Maryland,” Aidan said, taking a deep breath. “These are The Scrolls of Alleble.” Robby stiffened. His eyes darted just for a second to the stairs.

  Aidan went on. “Do you remember before I moved, you told me that life seemed like a cruel joke?” Robby sat very still.

  “I didn’t know what to say,” Aidan continued. “I felt the same way at the time. It just didn’t make sense that I had to move so far away right after I finally found a good friend. But there was a reason.”

  Aidan went on to tell Robby about finding The Scrolls of Alleble and how Grampin helped him understand how to answer the invitation and enter The Realm. Aidan spoke of The Schism that divided The Realm from earth. He described the beings known as the Glimpses and told of their connection to their twins on earth. Aidan told of his training to be a knight in the service of King Eliam and of the great victory Aidan had played a role in, saving many lives.

  “If I hadn’t moved,” Aidan explained, “I might never have figured out that the Scrolls were more than just a story. I needed to be near Grampin-he knew all about it, Robby. Grampin showed me the path to the other world.”

  Robby looked at Aidan as if he had just told him the blue sky he’d been living under his entire life was actually purple. But Aidan was undaunted.

  “Robby, you told me you hated how tragic and unpredictable life is. You said you always wanted something you could count on.” He flipped through the Scrolls and found the account of the Great Betrayal. “Robby, there is someone you can count on. He is the ruler of Alleble, and his name is King Eliam the Everlasting. I want you to read this and see what the King did for his people.”

  Robby said nothing, but began to read the account. Aidan would have given his right arm to know what Robby was thinking at this point. But soon, Robby’s facial expressions began to tell a story. First there were subtle shakes of the head as if Robby disagreed with what he was reading. Next came the scrunching of his eyebrows and the squinting, and then he took a sharp breath. Just as he was about to speak, the basement door opened.

  “It’s getting kind of quiet down here, boys,” said Mr. Pierson as he hastily descended the stairs. When he reached the bottom of the steps he was smiling. But when he saw Robby with the Scrolls in his lap, his face contorted. His tanned skin, which to Aidan already looked stretched and unnatural, became so taut with rage that it seemed his skull would burst right through. His sunken eyes bulged behind the wire-rimmed glasses, and he directed his stare, heavy with accusation, at Aidan. Then he turned to his son.

  “Whatcha got there, Robby?” Mr. Pierson asked, his voice as taut as his skin.

  Robby glanced at Aidan miserably. “Scrolls,” he muttered at last.

  “Scrolls, huh?”

  “Th-they’re Aidan’s,” Robby said.

  “I think you ought to give them back to Aidan, right about now,” Mr. Pierson said in an emotionless voice that was somehow worse than anger. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” Robby replied, and he practically threw the Scrolls at Aidan. Aidan swiftly rolled them up and shoved them into his backpack. He turned and looked up at the mas
sive figure of Robby’s father.

  In that moment, Aidan saw in the face of Robby’s father a different identity. The skull-like grimace, the barely concealed rage, the arrogant confidence-Aidan remembered. “Rucifel,” he whispered.

  Mr. Pierson’s expression changed. His eyes narrowed, and one corner of his thin-lipped mouth turned up into a clever smile. “Robby, I think your friend Aidan has just about worn out his welcome here.” He reached slowly underneath his jacket.

  Aidan involuntarily stepped back a pace. Then, to Aidan’s relief, Mr. Pierson pulled out a cell phone. “Call your father,” Mr. Pierson said. “Tell him to come get you… right now.”

  Aidan punched in the number, spoke for a few moments, and then handed the phone back to Robby’s father. “He said he’d be here in about twenty-five minutes.”

  “Good,” Mr. Pierson replied. He led Robby and Aidan up the stairs. When they entered the hallway at the top of the steps, Mr. Pierson directed Aidan to the front door.

  “You are no longer welcome in this house, Aidan Thomas. So you’d best make other plans for tomorrow.”

  And with that, Mr. Pierson ushered Aidan out the front door into the yard. But not before Aidan spied Robby gesturing to get his attention. Aidan stared, and Mr. Pierson turned.

  “Son, we need to have a talk,” Mr. Pierson said, adjusting his glasses. “Go to your room.”

  But it was too late. Aidan had gotten the message. Robby had mouthed the word “fort.”

  8

  THE DEPARTURE OF SIR AELIC

  E lspeth banged on Kaliam’s door. “M’lord Kaliam! Are you in there? It is Elspeth! M’lord?”

  There came a muffled voice from inside. “Elspeth? You had better have a good reason for waking me!” The door swung open, and there was Kaliam, his ebony hair wild and hanging half over his face.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, m’lord,” she said. “Sir Aelic is alive!”

  At the mention of Aelic, Kaliam became fully awake. “Alive! Where did you get such news?”

  “Thrivenbard sent a messenger from Yewland. He flew all night,” Elspeth said. “He said, ‘Tell Kaliam that Sir Aelic has been found, and he is alive!’”

  Kaliam grabbed Elspeth by the shoulders and kissed her abruptly on the cheek. “Elspeth, this is spectacular news!” he said. “Praise to the King!”

  Elspeth seemed a bit taken aback by the kiss and the sudden emotion. “Sir, there is more to the message. Thrivenbard asks that you come at once to Yewland, for Aelic is very ill. Too weak to move, he said.”

  Kaliam’s smile faded a bit, and he slowly stepped backward into his chamber. “Have the dragon master saddle his four swiftest steeds,” he commanded. “Get word of this to Mallik, Oswyn, and King Ravelle. Tell them we leave for Yewland within the hour.”

  They flew through the morning hours in silence, and as the sun rose high into the afternoon sky, the dragons from Alleble descended into the glade known as the Hall of Sun and Moon-the threshold of Yewland.

  “Hail, Sentinel of Alleble!” called Baldergrim. He and a squad of braves came forth from the trees. “Welcome to all of you, but do not leave your steeds. Sir Aelic is under care in Her Majesty’s castle. It will be faster if we fly above the treetops.”

  Kaliam nodded. “How is he?” he asked. “How is Aelic?”

  “He is awake,” Baldergrim replied, but he seemed reluctant. “He has been asking for you, but… uh, Kaliam, Sir Aelic has taken grievous wounds. We have tended to him with such medicine as Yewland has to offer, but I do not know if it will be enough.”

  “Then let us cease this chatter!” Sir Oswyn bellowed. “For I bring salves and remedies like no other in The Realm.”

  Baldergrim nodded. He turned and whistled a soft, melodic trill. And from the trees, a white dragon spiraled down and landed next to him. Without a word, Baldergrim leaped into the saddle, and his steed swooped into the sky.

  The others followed, and from the air, the Knights of Alleble saw that the Battle on the Forest Road had penetrated far deeper into the heart of Yewland than they had imagined. When Kaliam peered down into the woods, he saw open areas with blackened glades and scorched, leafless patches of trees.

  The green Castle of Yewland itself did not escape entirely unscathed. Once a thing of wild beauty, like a solitary flowering plant burgeoning upon its hill with bud and bloom, the castle now seemed more like a rosebush after a storm. Turrets leaned or were roofless-one had even crashed to the hill and lay there in a pile. Several of the elaborate wooden stairways and balustrades were burned. But the main gate was still intact.

  Baldergrim’s white dragon steed hurriedly descended and landed lightly on the wide balcony of the castle’s east side. The others landed, and Baldergrim led them up several curving halls, up one flight of stairs, and to a large arched chamber. The room radiated green light, though from whence it came, none could say. There were no windows and no torches. Still, they could see the room was a house of healing, and the gentle green light was welcome.

  There were numerous beds, mats, and cots, and upon them lay many of Yewland’s wounded braves. Nock appeared and warmly greeted his old friends. “This way, my Sentinel,” he said, and they followed him.

  They found Queen Illaria, Trenna Swiftfoot, and Thrivenbard at Aelic’s bedside. Aelic lay there, eyes closed, his porcelain white skin now a dull ashen gray. When Kaliam saw the blood-soaked bandages on Aelic’s head, arm, chest, and stomach, he wanted to cry out, but he bit his tongue and smiled bravely.

  “My son!” King Ravelle cried, and though he wanted to swoop to Aelic’s side, he made way for Oswyn, who knelt by Aelic and opened a huge satchel. Oswyn fished around for a while and removed several cloth pouches and a half-dozen small, corked bottles. He went to work at once, examining wounds, crushing herbs from the packets, and daubing Aelic with salves.

  “We found him just before sundown last night,” Thrivenbard said. “It is no wonder that he was not found before. Kaliam, he was in the Sepulcher.”

  “The Sepulcher!” Kaliam exclaimed.

  “Aelic fell into one of the pits where the Seven were buried,” Nock explained. “When Aelic was last awake, he told us that one of the Sleepers chased him there. His dragon rescued him then.”

  “We found Gabby in that cursed valley,” Thrivenbard explained. “She had been mauled. We can only guess that the Sleeper left Aelic for dead.”

  Oswyn lifted the bandage on Aelic’s stomach, and they all heard his sudden intake of air.

  “Oswyn, what?” King Ravelle asked, and his voice pleaded. Oswyn turned to the king, started to speak but didn’t.

  Finally, he looked at King Ravelle and then Kaliam. “He is gravely ill. That is all I can say for now.”

  “Is there not anything I can do?” Queen Illaria asked. And Sir Oswyn looked at her and was reminded of her kindness to them… and their feast the night before the Twelve left for Acacia.

  “Maybe…,” Oswyn said, half to himself. “Your Highness, would you bring me a flask of Golden Tear?”

  The queen did not question. She didn’t even command an underling to go and get it. She sprinted herself from the healing chamber and returned in moments carrying a tall green urn.

  “Will this be enough?” she asked.

  “I am not sure,” Oswyn replied. He opened a large leather satchel. Long gray, feathery weeds spilled out. He snapped them again and again until they fit in his mortar. Then he ground them rapidly with a pestle. The air around him filled with a sharp odor. Sir Oswyn took all the contents of the mortar and poured them into the urn with the Golden Tear. He covered the urn with his hands and shook it.

  “King Ravelle, Nock, lift Aelic so that I can make him drink this.”

  The King and Mallik carefully sat Aelic up, and Oswyn slowly poured sips of the mixture into Aelic’s mouth. Aelic groaned a little, and he coughed the first mouthful back out, but Oswyn kept pouring. Then Aelic began to swallow.

  Suddenly, Aelic’s eyes popped open. “Os?” he whi
spered.

  “Shhh,” Oswyn said. “Drink this. All of it if you can.” Aelic did as he was told, and he drank until the urn was empty. Then they laid him back down.

  Aelic’s eyelids fluttered, but they remained open. He looked around. “Father!” he cried. And King Ravelle took his hand. “Father, I am sorry… I-”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, my son,” Ravelle said, brushing the damp hair from Aelic’s forehead. “I have heard the tale of how you fought. Valiant, I call you, one who seeks glory for King Eliam the Everlasting.” Aelic smiled.

  “Enough talk for now,” Oswyn said, then gently added, “Leave me with my patient.”

  There was a spring in Oswyn’s step as he walked into the chamber where King Ravelle, Kaliam, and the others awaited word on Aelic’s condition.

  “You may all see him now, but only briefly. He needs his rest,” Oswyn said.

  Quietly, they followed Oswyn to Aelic’s bedside.

  “Look, his skin is better, nearly restored!” Mallik exclaimed. And behold, Aelic’s skin had lost the gray cast, though it still lacked the vitality of a healthy Glimpse.

  “What was that you gave him?” Trenna asked.

  “It is an herb called yarrow, or staunchweed in the common tongue,” Oswyn said. “Then I remembered how quickly the Golden Tear restores a knight’s energy, and I thought perhaps it would speed this healing herb to unknown wounds within Aelic.”

  “You are brilliant!” Thrivenbard exclaimed.

  “We have great need of such wisdom in this room,” Queen Illaria said, and she looked kindly upon Oswyn.

  “Do not lavish accolades upon me,” Oswyn replied. “Aelic is improving, and for that we have King Eliam to thank.”

  Oswyn went to Kaliam, leaned toward him, and whispered, “The next few hours will tell us much, but I still do not know if I caught it in time.”

  “Aelic, lad, you are made of sterner stuff than those trees in Nock’s forest!” Mallik laughed. “To tangle with a Sleeper, and then last for days at the bottom of a pit? I agree with your pa, that was valiant!”