Robby ran to the fort, grabbed the backpack, and charged through the pines to safety.
THE THREAD
Aidan found himself standing upon a gray stone path that stretched away into forever in a vast sea of black. It was the connection between earth and The Realm, what Glimpses called The Thread. Grampin was right, Aidan thought, and he smiled. I am going back to Alleble!
Even as he walked along the path, however, he was haunted by Gwenne’s voice: “Be wary of all you meet—in this world and in mine. Not everyone is who they appear to be.”
Aidan quickened his pace as the black all around him began to flicker and images came into focus. An enormous castle appeared. Among its many turrets, keeps, and balconies rose a nine-tiered tower. There were two enormous twin mountains behind the castle. Aidan knew it well. It was the Castle of Alleble. But the view changed and zoomed in on the side of one of the mountains. From a dizzying height, a great shelf of stone had come loose. It began to slide down the mountainside toward the city. There was a great cloud of snow and debris. When it cleared, the vision had changed.
As if from above, Aidan saw two figures walking across a white wasteland. One of the figures began to run. The vision zoomed in on the other. And though there was a strange haze over all things, Aidan could see that the figure was a young woman with flaming red hair. Antoinette! She looked up as if in answer, but then a monstrous shadow rose behind her. She turned to face it, but then the vision changed.
Aidan saw a vast canopy of beautiful wide crimson leaves. Beneath the adorning leaves were huge black limbs and long trunks. And at the foot of the trees there traveled a band of knights in dark armor. The vision sped ahead to a new location. It was a clearing where a tree of surpassing greatness had been felled. The bulk of the tree lay charred, stretching out of sight. At the end of it was a vast stump. In the center of the stump there was a small hollow. And from this hollow a sapling grew. Speared by the limbs of the sapling was a scrap of parchment.
Aidan had seen this vision before. It seemed important, and the vision did not fade. It lingered so close to Aidan that he felt he could venture just a few steps from the path and touch it. But Aidan remembered what happened the first time he left the path. He had entered The Realm, but far from his intended destination. That mistake had caused him to endure a very dark adventure.
But something about this felt different. Aidan felt a strange gravity drawing him toward the scene. It was not the feeling of dread that had driven him from the path the first time. No, this felt more like the gentle urgings of an unseen father.
A rush of noise flooded to Aidan’s consciousness. It was like the conversations of great crowds of people, buzzing, loud, unintelligible. But then one voice rose out of the chaos, and the others were silenced. This voice was calm, assured, peaceful. A brightness like the light from a tunnel appeared on the path ahead. Aidan shielded his eyes. It was a being in brilliant white clothing, his countenance too intense to behold.
“Seek what is lost.”
“My King?” Aidan asked.
King Eliam nodded and reached out. Something lay in his out-stretched arms.
“Fury!” Aidan smiled and took his sword from the King.
“My servant, the time draws near. Seek what is lost. Go, now.”
Aidan looked at the scrap of parchment hanging on the end of the sapling. He looked down at The Thread. Aidan swallowed, tightened his grip on Fury, and then leaped from the path.
The vision parted like a curtain and Aidan fell into darkness.
14
KALIAM’S CHARGE
What size is the force that assails the Blue Mountains?” Kaliam asked Sir Brannock.
The young scout, turned and looked at all the somber faces of those seated at the table in Guard’s Keep: King Ravelle of Mithegard, Lord Sternhilt of Acacia, Queen Illaria of Yewland, as well as the heroes of Alleble: Farix, Nock, Lady Merewen, Thrivenbard, Rogan, and Mallik. And they all waited anxiously for Brannock’s answer, especially Mallik.
Sir Brannock swallowed and said, “Two legions were brought through the air, transported in great carriages dangling from the largest dragons I have ever seen. They arrived first. By the time I had to flee or perish, there were easily a full six legions more on the ground.”
“Eight legions?!” Mallik exclaimed. “That is twice what we faced in Yewland!”
“What of the Seven Sleepers and the Wyrm Lord?” Queen Illaria asked.
“They were not abroad,” Sir Brannock replied. “At least they were not when I fled.”
“Nay, they would not be unleashed this soon,” Kaliam replied. “This attack is a feint of the enemy. He wishes to measure our strength, to draw us out early.”
“A feint?” Mallik blurted out. “Eight legions is a feint?”
“Perhaps it is more,” King Ravelle said, and all eyes turned to him. “Certainly, the enemy wishes to know how we will respond, both in numbers and in tactics. But could it be that he has guessed our plans to fortify Alleble’s battlements with the hard blue granite from Ludgeon?”
“Then he goes to war in the Blue Mountains, not to cripple King Brower . . . ,” Mallik began.
“. . . but to cripple us,” Farix whispered.
“Even were this thrust of Paragor’s not aimed at weakening our defenses here,” Kaliam began, “we would go to King Brower’s aid. They are our allies of old. But how should we respond?”
Mallik pounded his fist on the table. “Swiftly!” he grunted. “With numbers far greater than the enemy’s!”
“But what if Kaliam is right?” Queen Illaria asked. “What if Paragor means only to draw us out away from Alleble, so that he can bring his full forces against a depleted city?”
“That may well be his plan,” said King Ravelle. “Paragory, now swollen with troops from Frostland, Inferness, and Candleforge, hordes a fighting force of at least ten times what he spends now in the Blue Mountains. If he brought that group, the Wyrm Lord, and the Sleepers to bear upon Alleble in our absence, it could go ill.”
“What of our scouts at the Cold River?” Farix asked.
“There has been no report of Paragor moving beyond that border,” Kaliam explained. “It would seem that his grand attack is yet many days away. Still, can we take such a chance?”
“Every choice made in war is a chance, Kaliam!” thundered the deep voice of Sir Rogan. Then he bowed and lowered his voice. “Forgive me, my Sentinel, it is just that King Brower and the Glimpses of Ludgeon wait for help. And yet, here we sit. We must act, or the fate that befell Mithegard will happen again.”
Kaliam turned to his right. “Farix, how many dragon riders have we gathered in Alleble to date?”
Farix calculated a moment while staring into one of the chamber’s torches. “Counting those brought today by Queen Illaria and the Braves of Yewland, we could muster ten legions airborne.”
“Good!” Sir Rogan nodded heartily. “Then I say we set forth to King Brower’s aid at once! Empty Alleble of every dragon rider ready for battle!”
“And leave Alleble with no winged defense? Rogan, that is taking a huge risk,” Kaliam said.
“He’s right,” Queen Illaria said. “To allow Paragor’s dragons to roam the skies over Alleble unchecked is madness.”
“I do not see that we have a choice,” Sir Rogan replied. “Paragor’s attack on the Blue Mountains continues as we speak. The longer we delay, the greater Paragor’s chances of cutting off our ability to fortify the walls. We must go by air! Let us swoop down upon his forces and sweep them away like a storm!” Mallik roared in agreement.
“But what if that is what Paragor wants?” Nock asked. “What if Alleble’s scouts at the Cold River fail, and the enemy launches a full-scale attack?”
“Then let him come!” Rogan said. “Alleble is not some tiny village made of thatch! And even with the dragon riders gone, this city is not defenseless! Look who will be waiting. The archers of Yewland, the mounted cavalry of Mithegard, the swordsmen of
Acacia—the walls will be manned by such an alliance of hearty warriors that even with the Wyrm Lord, Paragor will find an assault upon Alleble very costly.”
Sir Rogan paused and glared at everyone in the chamber. His eyes were afire with pride, and his confidence began to spread. Seeing the nods and smiles of his comrades, Sir Rogan went on. “If we bring such a lightning attack upon Paragor’s troops in the Blue Mountains, we will win quickly. And then, with King Brower’s doughty folk as reinforcements, we will return swiftly to Alleble. If Paragor is here, then . . . we will come upon his flank and smash him against the walls of the city like a hammer to an anvil!”
Many of those assembled cheered and slammed fists upon the table. But Queen Illaria said, “Kaliam, I agree with Sir Rogan in one aspect, at least. We must take action now.”
“This decision is fraught with peril. Whatever course I choose, lives will be lost,” Kaliam said. “But after hearing such prudent counsel, I agree that we must act swiftly and with overwhelming force. I say we saddle every last dragon and leave for the Blue Mountains before the sun sets! If this be a test to measure our strength and our resolve, then let us pass it mightily!”
15
THE BATTLE OF THE
BLUE MOUNTAINS
What about this one, Mallik?” asked Nock from the post of a nearby dragon pen.
Mallik looked at the dragon and raised his eyebrows. “That is Splinter—a nasty one, she is. I tried to saddle her, but she knocked me aside like swatting a fly. I say we leave her.”
Nock took a closer look. The dragon sleeping within the pen appeared black or dark gray in the moonlight. She was large and muscular; her wings stretched lazily at her side. Nock noticed the four ivory-white spikes protruding from her tail, and six more from the bony ridge on the back of her head. So that is why you are called Splinter.
“Kaliam said every dragon in Alleble was to be saddled,” Nock called to his friend.
“Then you do it!” Mallik yelled. “I will be content with this dragon here. Butterwing, yes, now that sounds like a dragon for me!”
“You see, my rigid friend . . . ,” Nock said, opening the pen. The dragon stirred slightly, but did not open its eyes. “There is an art to saddling a raw dragon. You cannot break them in with the same method you use to break rocks with your hammer!”
Nock laughed and put the saddle down inside the pen. He walked slowly up to the creature, and still it did not seem to awaken. “You must show them respect,” Nock continued as he slowly approached the creature. “Show them tenderness.” Nock brushed his hand along the creature’s neck. This earned Nock an ominous low growl.
“Easy, Splinter,” Nock said, slowly letting his fingers tickle close to her folded ears. “You see, Mallik, all you have to do—”
Suddenly, Splinter’s right foreleg unfolded, and the dragon backhanded Nock so hard that he flew out of the pen and landed with a crash ten feet away. The saddle, torn in two pieces, landed with a WHUMP beside the fallen archer. Splinter snorted and went back to sleep.
“Nock!” Mallik yelled, racing to his friend’s side. “Are you all right?”
“Uh . . . ,” Nock said, steadying himself. “Nothing is broken, if that is what you mean.”
“Well, I would not say that nothing is broken!” Mallik laughed, holding up the two jagged pieces of the saddle.
“You were right,” Nock said, finally getting to his feet. “We need to leave Splinter behind.”
“I will seek another steed!” Mallik said, patting his friend lightly on the back. “I think maybe you should take Butterwing.”
Although the glow of dawn already shimmered in the east, the stars still peeked out. Swarming about were the combined dragon riders from Alleble, Yewland, Acacia, and Mithegard. The ten legions of winged beasts swept low to the ground across the hilly terrain just south of their destination.
Queen Illaria led their airborne attack, for there was no one who better understood battle tactics in the air. With her flew Baldergrim, Trenna Swiftfoot, Nock, Farix, Mallik, Sir Oswyn, Sir Rogan, King Ravelle, and Lord Sternhilt. The others remained in Alleble with Kaliam to plan the defense of the city should the enemy attack while the riders were away.
The Blue Mountains, nestled in great climbing forests, loomed ahead. Nock readied his bow and rehearsed their battle plan in his mind. It was time.
The riders split into two teams at the base of Pennath Rugar, the first of the Blue Mountains. Queen Illaria led half the riders around the base to the left. Nock led his team around the base to the right. They continued to stay as low as they could, and the treetops swayed as so many creatures whooshed by overhead.
Nock gasped as he rounded the base and caught sight of Ludgeon, the capital city of the Blue Mountain Provinces. The walls, great angled panels of stone, were not broken, but within those walls, the city burned.
Paragor’s forces had placed dozens of catapults outside the many sections of the city walls. The fiery enemy projectiles arced through the night sky and fell unchecked among the inns and cottages.
And worse still, huge, broad-winged dragons brought immense carriages full of Paragor Knights and dropped them on the other side of the city’s walls. Mallik had told Nock that in the event of an attack, most of the women and children of Ludgeon would have found refuge in the great caverns of Pennath Hastor, the stony mount behind the city. But still, Nock wondered how many might not have gotten to safety in time. He urged his steed forward and she responded.
Great waves of dragons glided in on both sides of the enemy’s ranks. Paragor’s forces had no warning.
Led by Nock, the first wave of dragons dove down into the masses of troops nearest the city walls. They grabbed enemy knights, plucking them off the ground or right out of their saddles. And then the dragons rose to great heights and let their cargo fall, screaming back to the ground where they smashed into their comrades.
The large, broad-winged dragons of the enemy were groomed to carry heavy burdens over great distances, but being weighed down with troop-filled carriages made them terribly slow. When Queen Illaria’s team of smaller, swifter dragons came after them, they could not escape. Her long black hair trailing behind her like a scarf, Trenna drove her steed beneath one of the huge transport dragons. She kicked her legs against her dragon’s flanks, and it responded with a burst of flaming breath. The fire streaked out and melted the cable beneath the transport dragon, and its cargo—a carriage full of fifty knights—plummeted to the ground far below. It practically exploded on impact, sending pieces of debris scattering in all directions.
Farix flew high above the transport beasts and then dove down. He pressed his heel against his dragon’s left side, telling it to extend one leg. His dragon responded and trailed its razor-sharp talons across the leathery membrane of the enemy dragon’s wings. The shredded flesh could not maintain lift, and the great beast spiraled out of control, slamming into the ground.
Nock put Blackwood shafts into the eyes of several other massive dragons and sent them to their destruction far below. Again and again, Paragor’s troop transports fell from the sky until there were none. The enemy’s ground forces scattered when the onslaught began, but most rallied around the catapults. They seemed intent on burning Ludgeon to the ground at all costs. Mallik, who preferred to fight on foot, brought his dragon to a hilltop above the catapult nearest the city walls.
“Watch my back!” Mallik yelled to his dragon steed as he leaped out of the saddle. He raced over the crest of the hill and gathered speed down the slope toward the catapult. His hammer crashed into the enemy, sending them flying backward. One of them landed in the basket of a catapult just as it was released. The Paragor Knight flew high into the night sky and disappeared over the city walls.
Other enemy soldiers raised their swords and charged at Mallik. Usually, strength in numbers can overwhelm an opponent, but not Mallik. Mallik’s blunt weapon shattered their swords to splinters, crumpled and imploded their plate armor, and smashed their bones.
In great bunches the enemy fell until Mallik was left all alone with the catapult. He spun around, looking for opponents, but they had all been slain. Then Mallik noticed a tarped wagon parked near the catapult. Beneath the tarp were dozens of barrels. I know what those are! Mallik thought. And then he had an idea.
Mallik pushed with all his might on the back wheels of the catapult until it turned away from the city and out toward the legions of the enemy. Then he grabbed one of the barrels from the wagon, and with the flammable oil sloshing inside, he waddled over and dropped the barrel in the basket of the catapult. He grabbed a torch, lit the fuse on the barrel, and released the catapult’s trigger.
The flaming projectile soared into the sky and came down in the center of one of the enemy’s legions. It exploded with a blinding flash. Hundreds of Paragor’s soldiers fell immediately. Still more were mowed down by the heat wave from the explosion.
Mallik roared, “This is my city! Go back to your dark hole while you can!”
But in his clever designs to use the catapult against the enemy, Mallik had laid down his hammer. He turned to get it, and found it in the hands of one of the biggest Paragor Knights he had ever seen. This giant towered over Mallik and wore black plate armor on his chest, but none on his huge shoulders or arms. He wore no helmet either, and his big eyes flashed red and widened with delight. He looked down at the hammer as if he had just found a new toy. Then he stared at Mallik and grinned.
A full squad of enemy knights, no less than twenty-five, came up behind the gigantic captain. They quickly spread out and encircled their weaponless prey.
Mallik found himself alone at the base of the hill, surrounded by the enemy. He berated himself for leaving his hammer unattended, and he wondered what his dragon had been doing while the enemy sneaked up behind him. “Never trust a wyrm,” Mallik grumbled, and then he felt a sudden, urgent need to duck. He dropped to the ground and covered his head with his hands. Not a second later, he heard the swoosh of dragon wings, followed by many wet-snapping sounds. It almost sounded like someone sloshing through a puddle of mud, all the while snapping branches as he went—the only difference was that the sound came from above.
The Final Storm Page 8