The Rise of the Wrym Lord

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  “I think Brindle likes you,” said the mustached Glimpse.

  “Awww,” Antoinette said. She reached down to pet it, but it sprang lightly onto the top of her hand, spiraled up her arm, and sat on her shoulder. “Aelic, look! How cute!”

  “Yes, it looks quite at home in your fiery red hair,” Aelic replied. “Perhaps it thinks you are its long-lost mother.”

  “Very funny, Aelic,” Antoinette protested.

  Aelic reached into a small brown leather pouch and handed the mustached Glimpse a gold coin. “I think we will take this whoosel, plus a little something for your trouble.”

  “Why, thank you, kind Sir Knight!” he replied, staring at the coin. “I may just close me shop early today! Very generous indeed!”

  “Thank you, Aelic!” Antoinette looked at him with glad eyes. “Awww!”

  “Take good care of Brindle now,” said the mustached Glimpse, and he turned to walk away. It was then that Antoinette noticed the many pairs of bright eyes gleaming out from the Glimpse’s fur garment. It was really no garment at all. The Glimpse was wearing a shirt of whoosels!

  “I think we should be getting back to the castle,” Aelic said. “Bring your furry new friend, and let us be on our way.”

  Antoinette patted Brindle on the head and followed Aelic back out of the alley. The lanky creature squeaked happily in Antoinette’s ear, and she was grateful to have something to distract her. For the specter of the third test still loomed before her.

  14

  THE THIRD TEST

  Too soon, it was time for Antoinette to meet Kaliam for the third test. Slowly, the Sentinel led the young swordmaiden down a steep flight of stairs in the Castle of Alleble. Brindle rode on her shoulder but stayed mostly hidden in her hair. Torches flickered ahead and behind, but aside from that and the steps, Antoinette saw nothing more. “Where are we going?” Antoinette asked.

  “We are traveling a seldom-used stair to the old storehouse deep beneath the castle. In the storehouse there are many chambers. It is there you will face your final test.”

  “So what’s the test?”

  “The nature of the third test is not known to me,” Kaliam replied. “But it is said that the challenge of the third test is not merely physical. All I know for certain is that within the first chamber below, you will be offered a choice of some kind. You must then pass into the second chamber. And there you will discover the consequences of your choice.”

  “Consequences?” Antoinette didn’t much like the sound of that.

  “Well,” Kaliam said, “I do not know another way to put it. Something will happen to you in that second chamber. Depending upon your choice, it may not be pleasant.”

  They continued their descent in silence. At last they came to the final step, and before them, lit by torches on either side, loomed a massive wooden door. It was shrouded in cobwebs and looked as if it had not been opened in a century.

  “I have to go in here?” she asked.

  Kaliam nodded.

  “Great,” she replied, feeling uncertain. “Aidan didn’t have to do this, did he?”

  “No. As I said before, there is no time to train you as we did Aidan.”

  “Are you sure?” Antoinette asked, looking back at the door. “Because I think I’d rather do a week of training than go through that door. It gives me the creeps.”

  “The training Aidan endured was a greater trial for him than you know,” Kaliam explained. “Aidan learned his knightcraft under the withering stare of Captain Valithor.”

  “Okay, fair enough,” Antoinette replied. She knew about the demanding regimen of Captain Valithor’s command from Aidan’s stories. “But I still don’t like this door.”

  “Nonetheless, you must pass through it,” Kaliam said. “And now is the time.”

  “Right, yes . . . ,” she said between taking deep breaths. “Give me just a moment.”

  Kaliam cocked an eyebrow and smiled.

  Antoinette reached for the black iron knob and turned it. Brindle emitted a squeak that sounded strangely like “uh-oh!” The terrified whoosel leaped from Antoinette’s shoulder and onto Kaliam’s. It clambered atop his head and crouched warily. Its long orange-and-white tail whisked back and forth in front of Kaliam’s nose.

  “I see you have been to the market,” Kaliam said.

  “Aelic bought her for me,” Antoinette said.

  “It is better that she remain with me,” he said, and he gestured toward the door as he gently removed Brindle from the top of his head.

  Antoinette frowned and pushed hard on the door. The door protested a moment, came free, and groaned on its hinges as it swung into the room beyond. A smell like old books and mildew swirled out of the darkness.

  “Uh, you aren’t going anywhere, are you, Kaliam?” Antoinette asked. “I mean, in case I get into trouble. I can call you, right?”

  Kaliam slowly shook his head. “I am not permitted to assist you in any way. The moment this door shuts behind you, I will ascend to the Guard’s Keep. If you return, you will find me there.”

  “You mean when I return, right? Not if ? ”

  Kaliam stared at her for a moment and then said, “I fully expect you to return, Antoinette. You have marvelous courage and tremendous skill, but the choice ahead of you may require more. Remember, you are never alone!”

  Antoinette swallowed. She pushed the door open wider, slipped into the chamber, and slowly closed the door behind her. The moment the door was shut, she heard a ringing metallic click. The door had locked. There was no going back.

  She found herself in near darkness. The vast chamber was lit in pale gray as if by moonlight, but Antoinette could not see the source of the illumination. In the center of the room were two white pedestals. There was something on each of them, but Antoinette could not tell what. Beyond the pedestals, on the other side of the chamber, loomed the dark outline of another door.

  Antoinette approached the two pedestals. And, in the spectral light, the choice became clear. A sword lay upon one pedestal. A scroll lay on the other.

  “Easy,” Antoinette thought aloud. “There’s probably a maze on the other side of that door, so I’ll choose the scroll.”

  She took one step toward the scroll, but stopped short. She thought she should at least take a closer look at the sword. It seemed to be the only thing in the chamber not covered in a layer of dust or shrouded in cobwebs. It glimmered with pale light, and as Antoinette began to study it, her desire for the weapon grew.

  The blade was about three feet long, both edges sharp and tapered to a subtly curved point. Near the base of the blade was an engraving of the sun, whose rays reached up the blade and curled decoratively into runelike letters of a language Antoinette did not understand.

  The crossguard was like the outstretched wings of a great seabird perched above the grip. Upon its feathers were ornate designs: knights on horseback, shields, and more of the runelike writing. Crisscrossing banners spiraled down the grip to a large silver sunburst pommel.

  Antoinette could imagine the weight of the sword in her hand. She knew somehow that it would feel just right, and she longed to pick up the weapon. But to pick it up would mean to choose. She began to reach for the sword.

  Wait! Antoinette thought. Kaliam had said that the challenge was not merely physical. And I’ve already been tested with the sword.

  She looked back to the scroll. King Eliam wrote The Scrolls of Alleble. His wisdom filled each page of parchment. I could use some wisdom right about now.

  Antoinette froze.

  A faint scratching sound came from the door on the other side of the chamber. It was like something was digging on the other side at the base of the door. Rapid—scratch, scratch, scratch.

  Antoinette looked back to the sword. Then, there it was again. Scratch, scratch, scratch.

  Something was there, behind that door. Scratch, scratch, scratch.

  Antoinette approached as silently as she could, listening, straining to determine w
hat would make such a sound. The scratches stopped as Antoinette drew near. Slowly, she leaned over and put her ear to the door.

  WHAM!!

  Something slammed into the other side of the door, sending Antoinette sprawling backward to the floor. A deep growl rolled out, until it seemed the whole chamber was filled with a menacing rumble.

  Scratch, scratch, scratch. SCRATCH, SCRATCH, SCRATCH! Something tore into the bottom of the door.

  It’s trying to get in here! Antoinette’s mind raced as a jagged chunk of wood was ripped free from the base of the door. A dark claw reached through, grasping, seeking. Then it withdrew. And just for the briefest moment, a yellow reptilian eye appeared.

  Frantically, Antoinette slid backward. She screamed. A rivet from her armor pressed into her side. She rolled over on her stomach, the new wound burning.

  The sword! I’ve got to get the sword!

  She got to one knee. The scratching continued behind her. She heard another piece of the door being torn away. Another growl.

  Antoinette struggled to her feet and ran awkwardly to the pedestal. Her hand was an inch from the sword.

  No. The sword is not the answer, Antoinette suddenly realized. I am not the answer. I need the King’s word.

  The clawing continued. A larger chunk of the door broke off, and the taloned claw came through again.

  Antoinette made the decision and grabbed the scroll. She unrolled it and read:

  FeaR is the enemy. And tRust is youR fRiend.

  I will not leave you. YouR life will not end.

  The cReatuRe knows evil.

  The cReatuRe knows good.

  You must stand fast befoRe him, when he bReaks down the wood.

  The scent that you caRRy

  is a song that you sing.

  It caRRies the melody, youR oath to the King.

  Antoinette looked up from the scroll. A pair of three-toed claws reached through the gaping rent in the door. They clutched a ragged edge and began to pull with violent strength.

  Stand fast? How can I just wait around for that thing? Antoinette looked to the other pedestal, but the sword was gone.

  “Okay, I get it!” Antoinette yelled. Clutching the scroll, she edged closer to the door. Finally, just a few feet away, she stopped and closed her eyes. She could hear the relentless scrapes and scratches of the beast’s sharp talons on the door. She could hear shards of wood cracking and being torn away. She could hear the anxious breaths of the creature on the other side. Antoinette knew, in moments, it would get in.

  Through the terrifying ruckus, Antoinette repeated the words from the scroll, again and again in her mind. I will not leave you. Your life will not end. I will not leave you. Your life will not end. I will not leave you . . .

  There was a tremendous, splintering crack, and then the sound of something heavy being thrown with great force into a corner of the chamber. Cold air washed over Antoinette. She stood very still. She felt something in the room with her.

  There were footfalls, many footfalls. There’s more than one creature?!

  Antoinette struggled to keep her eyes shut. She struggled to keep still.

  She felt an icy breath on her forearm. She heard it sniffing her. Then something wet touched her skin.

  “Please don’t kill me!” she whimpered.

  “Kill you, hmmm? Is that what you thought I would do to you?” came a deep, rasping voice very near to Antoinette’s face. “No, no, no, my dear. Faethon would rather be grilled in the open sunlight than to harm a servant of King Eliam. Besides, you are unarmed. It would be hardly sporting for me to attack a weaponless knight. Open your eyes, my dear. Open them and behold Faethon!”

  Antoinette opened her eyes to a squint. A scaly creature was coiled in a wide circle around her. It was armored with dark scales on its long body. Some of the scales glimmered as if encrusted with jewels. The scales tapered off to gray leathery flesh on the creature’s many limbs.

  That’s why I thought there was more than one! Antoinette thought.

  “Impressive, hmmm?” The creature grinned. Its face was broad, its jaws long and filled with rows of fangs. Creased winglike ears swept back from its head. And large yellow reptilian eyes gleamed out from heavy lids. Antoinette was reminded of the dragons she had seen in Chinese New Year parades.

  “I am Faethon, a mortiwraith,” he said. “The last living son of Falon the Great! I serve King Eliam and guard his treasuries, among other things. And today, Antoinette, I became your challenge.”

  Antoinette sat down hard on the floor and winced in pain. The wound in her side stung.

  “You are injured,” Faethon said. “I smelled fresh blood. I am sorry. I suppose I got a little carried away when I ripped down the door.”

  “It’s my armor,” Antoinette said. “Something on the side here keeps poking me.”

  “Nothing Kindle in the armory cannot fix,” Faethon replied. “Your wound shall be fixed as well. The leechcraft in this city is excellent. Perhaps Sir Oswyn is available . . . yessss, he is the best in The Realm. Ask Sir Aelic to take you to Oswyn’s apothecary.”

  “You know Aelic?” Antoinette asked.

  “Yes, though he has only been in Alleble for a short time,” Faethon said. “Aelic comes down from the Guard’s Keep to bring me meat. He keeps me company from time to time. I think he has become quite fond of you.”

  Antoinette blushed.

  “Yessss, very fond of you indeed,” Faethon said. His toothy grin widened. “He tried to make me promise not to harm you. I refused, of course.”

  “What if I had picked up that sword?” Antoinette asked.

  “That is a good question,” Faethon replied. “I most likely would have spared you anyway, as I sensed the purity of your heart from the moment you entered this chamber. But had you taken that blade and attacked me, hewed at one of my beautiful limbs through the door . . . then I do not know what I might have done. A mortiwraith provoked is a fearsome sight, indeed. But let us not think of such unpleasant things, hmmm? You have passed this test, Antoinette. It is time you enter the second chamber. Climb the spiral stair to the Guard’s Keep. I believe Kaliam the Sentinel . . . and Sir Aelic are waiting.”

  “Congratulations, Antoinette. You survived your meeting with Faethon,” Kaliam said when Antoinette entered the Guard’s Keep. “Though not unscathed, I see.”

  “It’s just a scratch,” she said dismissively. “There’s a rivet or something sticking out of this back thing—”

  “The backplate,” Aelic offered. Brindle sat on his shoulder, but scampered down when she saw Antoinette.

  “Faethon said Kindle could fix the armor,” Antoinette said. She winced as she stooped and Brindle returned to her new home in Antoinette’s hair.

  “Yes,” Kaliam replied. “But your wound needs tending first. Aelic, escort Antoinette to Sir Oswyn’s apothecary. Do you know it?”

  Aelic nodded. “Who would not? Os plays his lute and sings to great crowds at dusk every evening! I know the way.”

  “Excellent,” Kaliam said. “Make haste from there to Kindle’s, and be sure that he will have Antoinette’s backplate ready this evening for the gathering.”

  15

  WOUNDS THAT

  DO NOT HEAL

  Aelic led Antoinette again through the market. Brindle bounded along behind them. Many of the shops were closing for the day, and there were fewer goods to see. But those Glimpse merchants selling food were very active and had lines waiting to be served. One Glimpse merchant stoked a mound of glowing embers till it cracked into a fire beneath dozens of hunks of meat turning on iron spits. Juices dripped from the roasts and fell with a hiss into the fire. The smell that wafted from that place was almost overwhelming, reminding Antoinette she had not eaten since the scones early in the morning.

  “Do you think we could get a bite to eat?” Antoinette asked. “After we get my side taken care of. The final test took a lot out of me.”

  “Ah, you also have fallen prey to the scents of
the marketplace, eh?” Aelic said, and he laughed. “There will be food in plenty at the gathering this evening. I think a morsel could be arranged prior to that. I know someone who makes a remarkably good stew—”

  “Elspeth, right?”

  “Oh, she told you about my insatiable appetite for her savory stew, did she?” Aelic grinned. “I am not surprised. Once Elspeth begins to talk, there is no telling when she will ever stop.”

  Antoinette laughed and then winced. “Owww,” she said, clutching her side. “This stings! Stop making me laugh.” She said nothing to Aelic, but blood was seeping through her tunic.

  “We had better get to Oswyn’s quick,” Aelic replied. “For I do not know if I can restrain my jovial nature!”

  “Ouch!” Antoinette said, coughing through a laugh. “Yeah, we better hurry.”

  They turned a corner and came at last to a little gray house with a thatched roof and an etched mortar-and-pestle sign hanging from its gables.

  “Sir Oswyn!?” Aelic called, leaning inside the door. “Sir Oswyn, are you here?” There was no answer at first, so they walked in. There was no one in the shop, but there were candles burning.

  “Wow!” Antoinette said, looking around. The square room they had entered was absolutely stuffed. Arched alcoves recessed into every wall were lined with shelves and stocked with ceramic or glass jars of every imaginable size and color. In the middle of the floor, turned this way and that, were several six-foot-high cabinets. And each of those had innumerable tiny drawers, each labeled in the same flowing script. No doubt for herbs, Antoinette thought. Brindle raced around the shop, stopping now and again to sniff at something.

  Antoinette looked up. Larger ingredients webbed in fishing nets, strings of dried plants, and various vines hung even from the ceiling! At the back of the store was a wide counter made wholly of dark maple. Aelic approached and called out again. “Sir Oswyn!? Sir Oswyn, if you are here, I need you!”