The Final Storm tdw-3

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  “First, we will need more cutting and wedge tools,” Mallik explained, the lust for his craft thick in his voice. “King Brower will bring those that were not destroyed in the attack on Ludgeon. It is a goodly amount, but not enough. These will need to be made with haste and precision-not an easy feat to combine. And they can be made only from the purest veins of murynstil.”

  Kaliam turned to the armory keeper, who looked lost in thought. “Kindle?”

  “Aye,” he replied. “We can do that. Naysmithe can make anything from any metal in The Realm. But he will need a team of craftsmen, and every forge in Alleble will need to be stoked. I will see to it.”

  Mallik nodded. “Good!” he said. “Next we will need to harvest dragon skins-enough to stitch together a flexible pipeline that will reach halfway up the mountains.”

  “My word,” said Elspeth. “I can get the skins, for as you know, our dragons shed their skins often. But what on earth would you need such a length for?”

  “Ahhh,” Mallik said, a twinkle in his eye. “That is the secret of our craft, but you shall learn it soon enough!”

  “What more do we need?” Farix asked, busily scrawling every-thing on the scroll.

  Mallik twirled a braid of his mustache for a moment. “A hun-dred kettles to boil snow,” he said. “Miles of good rope, a forest’s worth of timber, fifty sturdy carts with several hundred spare wheels, and as many dragons as we can spare.”

  “Splinter will help!” Robby chimed in.

  “Nay!” Mallik exclaimed. “I would take any dragon in Alleble, save that one. Splinter is your steed now, and you shall need her for your mission.”

  “Soon, Sir Robby!” Kaliam said, seeing Robby’s eagerness.

  Robby grinned, for he liked being called sir. Wait ’til Aidan sees me! he thought.

  “That is quite a list,” Farix said.

  “This is quite a task,” Mallik replied.

  “And time is the great unknown,” King Ravelle said. “We are hoping to do much without knowing when Paragor will mount his offensive. Have we heard from your scouts on the Cold River?”

  “Yes,” Kaliam replied. “There is much movement in Paragory. More troops arrive each day, but at least so far, he has not given any indication of when he might attack.”

  “That is good news,” King Ravelle said. “Perhaps we will have new walls upon which to fight, after all! Oh, and well defended those walls will be. Nock and Queen Illaria have been training Yewland’s Braves with the arbalest. As is expected, they have taken to them with great enthusiasm! Combining the arbalest with Blackwood Arrows has absolutely devastating effect.”

  “Excellent.” Kaliam stood, clapping his hands. “Well, then, many of you have your orders. See to them, and honor our great King with your work. The twelve I have selected will remain, for we must discuss your mission into King’s Forest.”

  The fire in Guard’s Keep was now just glowing embers. It hissed and popped behind the black grate, its warmth nearly spent. The candle chandelier swayed and turned slowly, sending flickering shadows dancing around the room. The chilled night air slipped in through the closed shutters.

  All mirth had disappeared. Each knight looked grimly thoughtful. Robby gazed at the other warriors, and aside from himself and Kaliam, he counted only ten. Kaliam stood by the fireplace, staring expectantly at the chamber door. Robby wondered who was missing.

  “I am sorry!” came a voice from outside the room, and in sped Trenna-now wearing the bright armor of Alleble. “I did not mean to keep you waiting,” she said. “But I would feel out of place among such proud ironclad warriors without my own silver armor.”

  Trenna quickly took a seat next to Robby.

  “Tonight,” Kaliam began, “you all met Sir Robby of the Mirror Realm and Lady Trenna from Yewland.”

  “Never alone!” sang out a Glimpse with bushy eyebrows and a lion’s mane of black hair. “And well-met, I say!”

  “Yes, Sir Oswyn,” Kaliam said, smiling. “Well-met, indeed. For we know them, but they do not know all of us. I shall remedy that presently.”

  “When tomorrow you take flight over the Mountains of Glory and enter King’s Forest, Thrivenbard will lead you.” A princely looking dark-haired knight with sharp features and large brown eyes stood briefly and bowed toward Robby and Trenna.

  “Thrivenbard’s wood knowledge is without equal in The Realm,” Kaliam went on. “And of the twelve, he alone has ventured into King’s Forest. Even so, Thrivenbard would be the first to tell you that for such a mission as this we will need all the woodland experience we can muster. So Halberad, his apprentice, will join us.”

  Halberad, a knight clad all in brown leather armor, stood a moment and bowed.

  “Like Trenna, the next three warriors were born and raised among the trees in Yewland,” Kaliam said. “Nock, Baldergrim, and Boldoak.”

  The sandy-haired archer stood first and winked at Robby and Trenna. “Hail, Dragonfriend and Swiftfoot,” Nock said. “I trust there will be no more races in the forest.” Robby and Trenna glanced sideways at each other and blushed.

  The two knights who stood next could not have been more different. The one called Baldergrim was tall, slender, and golden-haired, clean-shaven with skin smooth like porcelain and large gray eyes. Boldoak was broad and muscular with unruly shocks of dark hair and a wild beard to match. His skin was weather-beaten and worn, with a large scar prominent on his cheek. Boldoak’s dark eyes were barely visible slits beneath his protruding brow.

  “At your service,” Baldergrim said in a rich, deep voice.

  “For the King’s glory,” said Boldoak, his voice low and gravelly. They both bowed and sat.

  “The realm of Acacia, ever a friend to Alleble, sends three of its greatest hunters, Jarak, Locke, and Valden, to help us on this quest.” Three warriors stood, each dressed in armor of burnished copper. Jarak, a medium-build Glimpse with clever green eyes and a reddish Vandyke beard, said, “Proud to serve with you!”

  “As am I,” said Locke, who looked very young with a mop of light brown hair and a sprinkling of freckles upon his nose and cheeks.

  Valden was taller than the other two, and had waves of ruddy blond hair, small peaceful eyes, and a narrow goatee. In spite of the kindly appearance, Robby noticed that Valden had a pair of long-handled axes dangling from holsters at his sides. Valden said nothing but bowed just the same.

  “Valden does not speak much,” said Locke.

  “Except in battle,” corrected Jarak. “Then, cover your ears!”

  “You have already heard from Sir Oswyn,” Kaliam continued. “But know now that he is gifted with herbs and medicines.”

  “I deliver balms that heal for our allies,” Oswyn stood and said. “And more explosive remedies for our enemies!”

  “Your fire powder is most effective!” said a massive knight with long blond hair. He stood, reached over his shoulder, and brought round a huge, dual-bladed battleaxe. “Sir Rogan, of Mithegard,” he said.

  Sir Rogan sat down and winked mischievously at Robby. When he did, his eyes sparkled blue a moment. With curious fascination Robby looked from knight to knight. Each of the warriors, though clearly from many cultures and realms, had eyes that flickered blue, the color of devotion to King Eliam. Robby smiled, thinking that somewhere on earth his own Glimpse dwelt. And now, this Glimpse twin would have eyes that glinted blue as well.

  After meeting such a collection of gifted warriors, Robby felt very honored to be counted among them. Most of them were trackers or hunters-except Oswyn, who seemed a type of doctor. They all have a certain job, Robby thought. Except Sir Rogan-and me.

  Robby wondered what their roles on the mission would be, but Kaliam interrupted his thoughts. “Somewhere in a hidden village under the canopy of King’s Forest lives a very old Glimpse,” Kaliam began. Robby looked up with great interest. “His name is Zabediel, and he was the scribe for King Eliam when this world was new.”

  “Lives?” questioned Thrivenbard. �
��Surely you mean lived.”

  “Nay, my friend,” Kaliam replied. “For once, it is you who have gone off track. Zabediel was one of Torin’s kin, in the direct line of the firstborn Glimpses. To him has been given unnaturally long life. By the word of King Eliam, Zabediel is yet alive.”

  Looks were exchanged around the room. No one could fathom anyone, aside from the King, of course, having lived so long.

  “Zabediel was pleased to record the King’s ideas and his decrees,” Kaliam went on. “He did so for many years. But at one point, still long before Alleble came to be, the King saw into the future of The Realm. And what he saw Zabediel recorded on a single sheet of parchment.”

  Sir Oswyn nodded as if he knew something of Kaliam’s tale.

  “This scroll remained in King Eliam’s keeping,” the Sentinel continued. “Even as Alleble was founded and many things in The Realm were born and grew, the scroll was safe. But when The Schism occurred, Zabediel, fearing for his own life, sought refuge in King’s Forest. And the scroll… well, the King hid that away, for he knew what could happen if one of ill intent knew its contents.”

  “The Scroll of Prophecy!” said Sir Oswyn. “That is the parchment you speak of!”

  “Yes,” Kaliam replied.

  “But that is just a legend,” Jarak said.

  “As were the Wyrm Lord and the Seven,” Nock said. “And yet they live and breathe-I have seen it.”

  Jarak fell silent.

  “There are many legends in The Realm,” Kaliam went on. “Legends laughed off as harvest tales or children’s lore. But even the most far-fetched stories can often be traced back to a kernel of truth. I do not know how much of the legend concerning the Scroll of Prophecy is to be heeded, but this much is known to me: It will help us identify the Three Witnesses.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jarak said, pinching the end of his tapered red beard. “Who are these Three Witnesses you speak of?”

  “Mighty champions,” said Sir Oswyn. “Bold-hearted warriors with magnificent weapons. It is said that these three will come to Alleble in its time of greatest need and defend us from the threatening darkness.”

  “We have our mission, then!” Baldergrim exclaimed, his gray eyes intense and turbulent like a storm about to break. “Let us go and get this scroll. And then we might match Paragor’s living legends with our own!”

  “We cannot,” Kaliam replied. The chamber became utterly silent. They waited for Kaliam to explain. “Paragor has it.”

  “You mean that is why he cut down the Ancient One?” Boldoak asked. “That is what he stole from the hollow at Sil Arnoth’s center?”

  Kaliam nodded.

  “What would Paragor want with such a scroll?” Sir Rogan asked, fingering the sharp edge of his axe. “Does it not tell of his demise?”

  “I do not know if Paragor’s demise is a certainty, my friend,” Kaliam said gravely. “Some say the Scroll of Prophecy does not tell the way things must be in the end, but rather the way events might unfold for good or for ill. The destruction of Alleble could be foretold or the way that our end could be brought about. It could be that the prophecy tells both how the Three Witnesses may be found-and how they might be defeated. In any case, Paragor went to great lengths to get the scroll, and now he has it.”

  “Is all then lost?” Trenna asked, her eyes large and dark. “For you said our mission is to King’s Forest, not Paragory.”

  “We yet have hope, Lady Trenna,” Kaliam replied. “For the Scroll of Prophecy was written in a very old language-the same as The Stones of White Fire that surround the Library of Light. Paragor studied long in that place, and I believe he would be able to translate some of the scroll, but not all. And there is only one being left in all The Realm who still speaks that old tongue.”

  “Zabediel,” Sir Oswyn said.

  “Does Paragor know about Zabediel?” asked Nock.

  “He may,” Kaliam replied, shaking his head angrily. “Somehow our enemy has discovered many secrets of The Realm! He learned of the Wyrm Lord, the Sleepers, and now the Scroll of Prophecy. I have often wondered how! It could be that he shrewdly pieced together bits of truth from old legends. Or, perhaps he has employed more clever traitors than we ever imagined. It has even entered my mind that perhaps, on the night of the Betrayal… perhaps Paragor saw these things when he looked into the first scroll of Alleble. Ah! It is maddening!” Kaliam sighed. “In any case, we must assume that Paragor knows of Zabediel.”

  “Right then,” Sir Rogan said. “Our mission is to find this eldest of Glimpses before the enemy!”

  “Yes,” Kaliam replied. “Tomorrow the twelve of you will take flight over Pennath Ador, but you must enter King’s Forest on foot. Find the hidden village where Zabediel now dwells, and bring Zabediel back to Alleble. We must learn the mysteries of the Scroll of Prophecy-and keep Paragor from learning them himself!”

  “Do you like the sword?” Kaliam asked Robby as the two stood on the balcony overlooking the seventh fountain.

  The long broadsword rang when Robby drew it from its sheath. He carved the air with wide two-fisted strokes. “It’s perfect,” he said. “The weight is exactly what I like, and the whole dragon emblem thing is cool.”

  “Indeed it does seem to fit you,” Kaliam said, admiring the blade. “I thought so when Kindle first showed the sword to me. The dragon on the crossguard, as I said in the ceremony, is especially appropriate given what you did with Splinter. That was one bad-tempered wyrm!”

  “Well, I think she and I have an understanding,” Robby said with a laugh. “At least I hope so. I’ll be on her back, high in the sky, with just one flying lesson!”

  “You are a natural, Sir Robby,” Kaliam said. “And the way Splinter has taken to you, she will not let you fall. Remarkable, really… the way she responds. It is a singularly unique ability.” They were quiet for a few moments. The two knights stared out over the sleeping city of Alleble. They listened to the hypnotic rush of the fountains.

  Inwardly, Kaliam debated. He wanted to-no, needed to-ask Robby a question, but he was afraid of the implications of the answer. King Eliam knows what he is doing, Kaliam reminded himself. Then he took a deep breath and said, “Sir Robby, when you passed through The Door Within, did anything strange happen to you?”

  Robby laughed. “The whole thing was strange!”

  “Yes, I suppose it was,” said Kaliam. “What I mean is… did you hear or see anything that troubled you?”

  Robby’s smile disappeared. “I… I don’t really know what I saw,” Robby explained. “There were scenes all around me, images of things. They weren’t from my world, I can tell you that.”

  Kaliam nodded thoughtfully. He waited a few heartbeats before asking, “Since you have been here in Alleble, have any of these visions come to pass?”

  Robby hesitated. “No… I don’t think so. First, there was a terrible storm-worse than the ones that blow in off the Gulf where I used to live. Then I saw an army and a forest. The last thing I remember-wait, yeah, that’s right-there was a battle, and it was in front of a walled city.” Robby pointed at Alleble’s walls. “It might have been Alleble. I’m not sure. And in the middle of the fighting, some kind of thing with great big claws started tossing knights around like toys.”

  Kaliam stared out at the fountains and imagined a battle raging. He imagined the coming of the Wyrm Lord and the destruction that ancient horror could cause. He looked at Robby and smiled grimly. Aidan, Antoinette, and now Robby-all of them seeing visions as they passed between worlds. Captain Valithor had been right all along. And now Antoinette is in the hands of the enemy. And where is Aidan? Is he too now a captive of Paragor?

  “Kaliam?” Robby asked. “Why did you ask me about what I saw? I mean, it seems like you expected me to have seen something.”

  “Yes, Sir Robby, I did expect it,” Kaliam replied, but he did not elaborate.

  “Is there something wrong?” Robby asked, growing concerned. “Have I done something wrong?�
��

  “Nay, Sir Robby,” Kaliam said, and he put his hands on Robby’s shoulders. “You have done everything right since you entered The Realm, but these things that have happened to you-the visions, your ability to tame Splinter, the visitation by the old Glimpse in the mountains-these things may be of great importance. But we must find Zabediel to know for sure.”

  Robby was on his way to his chamber for some much-needed sleep, when he remembered something else from his visions between worlds. In the forest, there had been a knight. And he became surrounded by many dark, glassy eyes. Robby had no idea if it was important, but he thought Kaliam might know. So Robby sped back the way he had come, at last arriving at the door to the balcony above Guard’s Keep. The door was slightly ajar, and Robby hesitated. He felt strangely awkward, and the thought entered his mind that he had no right to just go mucking about in the Castle of Alleble. Then he heard voices. Feeling even more uncomfortable, Robby drew close and put his ear to the narrow crack and listened.

  “Is it as you suspected?” one voice asked, and Robby thought it might have been Sir Rogan.

  “I cannot be sure,” a voice answered. That had to be Kaliam.

  “Do you think he knows?”

  “No,” Kaliam replied. “But we must be careful what we say in his presence.”

  Robby felt as if a blade of ice had been drawn over his spine. Could they be talking about me? he wondered. Robby’s eyebrows knotted, and he listened more intently.

  “What do you want me to do, then?” asked Sir Rogan.

  “Watch him,” Kaliam replied. “Do not let him out of your sight, for he may rule the fate of us all.”

  Hearing footsteps, Robby sprinted away from the door and raced all the way back to his chamber. Moments later, he lay in bed and stared into the darkness. His stomach churned, and he flopped back and forth trying to get comfortable.

  Then, like the uninvited whisper of chill wind, a familiar voice came into Robby’s mind. “They do not trust you.”

  27

  THE BLACK BREATH