The Final Storm

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  “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

  The Paragor Knights carried the screaming prisoners quickly through the catacombs and tunnels deep within the mountains of Paragory. Aidan followed them at a distance, all the while trying to remember the twists and turns so that he could find his way back. The enemy came to a sudden stop, and Aidan ducked behind a ridge of stone that projected from the tunnel wall and quietly drew his sword.

  He peered out from behind the rock and saw that the tunnel ended in a kind of cliff overlooking a vast cavern. The prisoners shrieked and screamed. They struggled and fought—even trying to bite their captors. Aidan heard several distinct snapping sounds, and he knew the prisoners had broken their own bones trying to escape. But the knights outnumbered their captives two to one. They were much stronger and wore cruel spiked armor. They shrugged off the frantic blows and dragged a prisoner to the edge. Then, as if the prisoner were a sack of grain, the Paragor Knights tossed him over the edge and far into the cavern. He screamed a terrible, half-choked desperate scream. The scream was cut ominously short.

  The Paragor Knights continued hurling the wretched prisoners over the edge, replaying the same scene. And yet Aidan had not heard even one of their bodies hit the ground.

 
Aidan wept in his hiding spot. He desperately wanted to come to their rescue, but there were too many guards. To rush out there now would be suicide and would condemn Antoinette to never-ending captivity in the holds of the enemy.

  So Aidan watched in stunned silence until the Paragor Knights had finished. When they turned and sped back up the tunnel, Aidan had no thought for himself. They could have easily seen him crouching there, but they didn’t. They marched right by without even a glance.

  At last, Aidan shook off the shock-induced paralysis. He stood, took a few timid steps toward the edge of the cliff—but could not see what lay far below.

  The knights had spoken of feeding the Ancient One. But who or what is the firstborn? Aidan shuddered, thinking of some hideous creature snatching bodies out of the air. Aidan knew he should run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. But something drew him closer to that horrible cliff.

  He slid slowly toward the edge and saw the serrated black crest of an enormous beast. He was not close enough to say yet what it was. But its back was armored with dark, glistening scales, and it seemed there was a ripple of muscle that churned beneath the scales like a wave of convulsions. Suddenly the creature loosed a terrible frightening cry—a wailing shriek that deepened and became a guttural roar. Aidan fell backward and clutched his ears. It seemed the whole cavern shook.

  After what seemed like a painful eternity, the roar ceased. He heard a sound of wrenching metal and an echoing thud, and then a protracted grinding. Aidan rolled over onto his stomach and crawled to the edge to see what had happened. The cavern had two tall arched doors—like to the Gate of Despair, but slightly smaller. And these doors were opening. Aidan could see the icy wasteland beyond.

  Aidan crawled a little closer, and at last he saw the beast in full. It was a dragon four times the size of the ones Aidan had ridden before, filling the cavern with its immense girth. It seemed to be sleeping, for its eyelids were clamped shut. But the creature continued to convulse. Then it opened its jaws and heaved as if it would vomit, but no flame or filth came forth. Instead, dark vapors spewed out—just tendrils at first but then a torrent of darkness. Aidan watched with sick fascination as the liquid shadow flooded out of the creature’s jaws and flowed like a dead river onto the Grimwalk. Aidan started to back away, but suddenly the dragon’s eye opened. It was a smoldering bloodred, and Aidan felt it could see him prone on the cliff. He backed away as fast as he could, got to his feet, and sprinted back up the tunnel.

  After a half-dozen wrong turns later, Aidan emerged from a tunnel into the smoky cavern where the torture cages hung high among jagged stalactites. The Gate of Despair was thrown open, and wide columns of knights issued forth from it. Teams of stocky blackhorne were hitched to siege engines and catapults, and they too were in motion. The dragon riders went to the pens and groomed their steeds for flight. The stronghold of Paragory was emptying.

  Aidan saw that beyond the gate the Grimwalk was shrouded in a thickening blanket of darkness—the Black Breath of the red-eyed dragon. Aidan watched as the forces of the enemy marched into the murk and disappeared from view.

  At that moment several things happened in rapid succession. Kearn appeared from a passage to Aidan’s right. He strode across the cavern floor, barked orders to several ranks of soldiers, and then vanished into a tunnel on the other side. Then the dragon riders began to walk their steeds out of the pens. But they did not go to the main gate, which was choked with massive siege weapons and legions of soldiers. Instead, they led their dragons into any one of a dozen arched gates not far from the passage Kearn had taken.

  This is my chance! Aidan thought, and he sprinted across the cavern floor to the dragon pens. But because of the noise of the troop deployment, Aidan did not hear the Paragor Knight who was shouting at him from atop one of the siege towers. “Hey, Blarrak, what do you think you are doing?” Drang yelled. “We do not leave for another hour. You get yourself up here and help me fix this engine right now!”

  Drang snarled, banged his fist, and then raced down the switch-back stairs of the tower to pursue the errant knight who had the nerve to ignore his commander. But Drang had barely set foot on the cavern floor when a tall knight stepped out from between two siege towers and stood in front of him. This warrior had two swords sheathed on his back beneath a long burgundy cape. The skin of his face seemed thin and stretched just enough to cover the prominent skull beneath. His sunken eyes emanated authority and peril. Drang reflexively stepped backward.

  “L-Lord Rucifel,” Drang said. He bowed and then stared at the floor. He opened his mouth, but thinking better of it, snapped it shut. Drang knew it was better to speak few words around Lord Rucifel.

  “The Black Breath has begun,” Rucifel said, his words clipped with anger. “My legions are ready to go forth, but the master sends me to speak to you, Drang. It seems there were some . . . problems . . . on your errand to Yewland. Perhaps you could explain. That is, if you have a moment to spare.”

  Drang glanced at the dragon pens for a split second and then nodded.

  Aidan found the dragon pens as busy as a hive. Riders and dragons were on the move wherever he went. They passed without so much as a glance in Aidan’s direction, but even so, he felt conspicuous among them. Aidan went from pen to pen, but could not find Blarrak’s or Galdoth’s dragon. He felt like he was wasting time.

  Aidan looked up at the passage that Kearn had taken, and he wondered how far ahead Kearn had gotten. Aidan gave up looking for the two dragons he knew, but he needed an alternative. After some searching, he found two dragons near the back of the pens. He untied the first, a dark blue dragon with long yellow fangs and a forked tail. It sniffed at Aidan and refused to move. Aidan pulled on its reins, but that just earned him a threatening growl. Next dragon! Aidan thought, and he made his way quickly to the other pen.

  He was about to give up when he spotted a jagged fence behind the dragon pens. A white wing flailed just above the fence line, then a tail. Curious, Aidan drew closer. As he did, he heard deep rumbling growls, followed by a pained yelp and several oaths.

  Aidan walked up and peered tentatively around the fence. He saw four white dragons, their necks tied with cords to iron rings embedded in the floor. He also saw an angry knight walking away and rubbing the back of his arm.

  “Uh, excuse me, sir,” Aidan said. “Whose dragons are these?”

  Annoyed, the knight stopped and turned to Aidan. “They are for slaughter,” he said. “That is who they belong to!”

  “Why?” Aidan asked.

  “What, are you daft, lad?” the knight said. “These are some of the ones we took from the battle in Yewland. Swift as a high gale they are, but useless to us. The ornery things will not let me near them!”

  That’s probably because they can’t stand the stink of you Paragor Knights! Aidan thought, but what he said was, “Could I try?”

  The knight looked Aidan up and down. “Your armor looks sturdy enough. Have at it! But do not come crying to me if you get a finger nipped off !” With that, the knight stomped off into the crowds.

  Aidan unlatched the fence gate and stepped in. The nearest dragon growled fiercely and bared its fangs at Aidan. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, he thought. Aidan looked around to see if anyone was watching. No one was, so he quickly removed one of his gauntlets and held his hand up for the dragon to smell. Aidan squeezed together his eyes as the dragon’s snout came close to his hand.

  The dragon snorted, and Aidan jumped. But then, instead of eating Aidan’s fingers, it licked them. Aidan patted the steed on the snout, and it ducked its head shyly. He let one of the other white dragons smell his hand to gain its trust. He untied the two and led them out of the fenced-in area. He looked back at the other two, still tied down, and remembered the words of the knight. There could be no other decision. Aidan ran quickly back inside and loosened the cords so that the other two dragons were no longer tied down. “When you get the chance,” he whispered to them, “fly home!”


  Aidan drew a few stares as he led the white dragons into the thick lines of dragon riders heading for the arched doors. Nice going! he berated himself. Way to stay undercover! But he knew he really had very little choice. Without the dragon steeds, it would be a long walk to Alleble. Soon enough, Aidan and his white dragons were immersed in the crowd and nearing the doors.

  Drang staggered away from his conversation with Lord Rucifel. He was happy to still be breathing, having lied and sworn to escape Rucifel’s wrath. But then his thoughts turned to Blarrak. Wait until I get my hands around his thick neck! Drang raged as he scanned the dragon pens. Then a glint of white snatched his attention and there Blarrak was. Where did he get white steeds? Drang wondered.

  Drang charged across the cavern floor but found himself stuck behind dozens of dragons far back in the line. Still, he watched Blarrak’s progress closely.

  At last Aidan approached the arched passages. He watched as dragon riders split off and marched into their assigned tunnels. But at the last moment, Aidan drew his two steeds into the passage Kearn had taken.

  Aidan waited briefly just inside the passage, hoping that no one had followed him. Then he led the dragons quickly up the wide torchlit hall.

  Only a few moments later, Drang stumbled out of the masses of dragon riders and ran up to the tunnel that Aidan had entered. “What are you up to, Blarrak?” Drang wondered aloud as he drew a cruel-looking curved blade and raced inside.

  Aidan followed the twists and turns of the passage. He knew that Antoinette was held captive in a high place, a tower perhaps, so he was relieved when the path went steadily up. But as the path steepened, it also began to narrow. After a few minutes the passage was nearly choked to the point where the dragons would not be able to continue. Aidan pressed on, but stopped when he felt a cold draft of air. The passage forked, and the wind seemed to be coming from the branch that curled down to the right and away. Aidan looked indecisively back to the left branch of the fork. I’ll never get the dragons up there! Aidan thought. So, hoping he could find some place to secure the dragon steeds, Aidan took the right fork. It sloped gradually at first and then became steep at the bottom. Eventually, the passage leveled out and continued through an ornately carved archway.