The Door Within

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  A look of recognition appeared on the King’s face. “Where, then, is the rest of your party?” he asked. “And Valithor was to be your leader.”

  “Your Majesty,” replied Gwenne, remembering to be more respectful. “We do not know what has become of our companions. They were swept away by a Tempest devised by the Prince of Paragory to keep us from getting here!”

  A shadow passed over King Ravelle’s face, and for a moment, he looked stricken. “Is this so?” he asked in a tone that was almost pleading.

  “She lies!” shrieked Lord Rucifel. “My Prince does nothing to create those storms! They occur naturally! Besides, had there been a Tempest, these two scrawny imps would certainly have perished!”

  The Knights of Paragor howled with laughter. Aidan could barely stand it.

  “We escaped into some moonrascal tunnels just before the storm hit!” he argued. “The storm passed over us, and we traveled through the tunnels to get here!”

  “Impossible!” bellowed Lord Rucifel. “These are imaginative stories—nothing more! Could two little wags such as these escape the terrible winds of a Tempest? My good King, send them away. We have important matters to discuss.”

  The King of Mithegard looked closely at Aidan and Gwenne, apparently judging them and their story. Aidan wondered if the King of Mithegard recognized him. If he had a son, Aidan reasoned, there would be a resemblance. But there was no recognition in King Ravelle’s eyes. Only suspicion.

  “We find the two of you hiding in my servants’ passageway,” the King began skeptically, “and you tell us an unbelievable tale—what do you expect me to do? Welcome you with open arms?”

  Gwenne spoke up. “Our story is unbelievable, but it is true. Unlike those from Paragory, servants of Alleble speak only the truth!”

  “How dare you insult my guests!” thundered the King. “Is that how everyone from Alleble behaves? Guards, escort these two mischievous children out of the castle. And throw them out of the Kingdom of Mithegard. Perhaps Alleble will send someone more mature next time!”

  Aidan and Gwenne tried to argue, but it was no use.

  The Mithegard Knights turned them around and directed them toward the throne room doors. The Paragor Knights sneered at Aidan and Gwenne as they left. One young Paragor Knight left the crowd. He ran up to Aidan and teased him.

  “You! Dark Skin!” he ridiculed. “What are you doing with this beggar from Alleble?”

  Aidan’s blood was boiling. He wanted nothing more than to belt the rude Paragor Knight in the jaw, but he knew they had already made a terrible impression on the King of Mithegard. He couldn’t risk giving him any other excuse to distrust the Kingdom of Alleble.

  The other Knights of Paragor urged the young mouthy knight on. He continued to insult and smirk right in Aidan’s face.

  “What’s the matter, pipsqueak?” he sneered, pushing Aidan slightly. “Do you not know how to defend yourself?”

  Aidan looked away, trying to ignore the brash Paragor Knight, but that just seemed to make him angrier. When Aidan wasn’t looking, the Paragor Knight rammed into him from behind, sending Aidan flying forward. He crashed awkwardly to the ground, banging his chin smartly on the solid stone floor.

  The Paragor Knights looked on, laughing merrily at the sport. The King of Mithegard also watched, but he wasn’t smiling.

  The Paragor Knight who had pushed Aidan sneered, shook his head with disdain, and announced, “How weak you are! Do not parents in your world teach you how to wield a blade? Stand and fight, you gutless coward!”

  Aidan had heard enough, so he did stand up. After wiping the blood from his chin, he drew Sil Furyn from its scabbard. The sword made an echoing metallic ring as it came loose. He held it menacingly with the razor-sharp tip pointed directly at the Paragor Knight.

  Immediately, tension filled the throne room. The other Paragor Knights stiffened, and their hands silently grasped for their own swords. The King of Mithegard stepped down from his throne. Gwenne, terrified, wondered what Aidan would do.

  The Paragor Knight stood no more than five feet from the edge of Aidan’s sword. He hadn’t expected Aidan to actually do anything! The fierce look in Aidan’s eye and the powerful-looking sword had him worried, but he drew his own blade. He couldn’t back down in front of everyone!

  “C’mon, then,” the Paragor Knight challenged. “Do your worst.”

  Gwenne could barely watch. She knew their mission depended on truth, not bloodshed. If Aidan killed this Paragor Knight, it might appear to be brave to some, but for the King of Mithegard, who already distrusted them, it could turn him against Alleble forever.

  As the Paragor Knight continued to provoke Aidan, Aidan stepped forward and did something remarkable: With both hands, he grasped the Son of Fury and laid it at the feet of the young taunting knight.

  “I offer you my sword,” he announced, “as a sign of peace. For the Kingdom of Alleble is a kingdom of peace!”

  The Paragor Knight looked shocked! “Keep your blade, Dark Skin!” he groaned, turning his back on Aidan. Gwenne smiled.

  The King of Mithegard suddenly spoke. “Guards, I told you to take these two from Alleble out of the castle! Do this, but give them shelter in a cottage just inside the main gate. In a short time it will be nightfall, and . . . I do not want them traveling at night.”

  That was hopeful, Aidan thought as the Mithegard Knights escorted him and Gwenne out of the castle. At least they got to stay in Mithegard! As the guards took them out to the courtyard, the sun had fallen behind the mountains, and already the sky was alive with stars. There was a chill in the air, and Aidan and Gwenne were thankful to have a place to stay—even if it was just a tiny two-room cottage with no furniture but a wooden bed in each room.

  Gwenne couldn’t wait to talk to Aidan in private. “That was incredible, Sir Aidan,” she exclaimed. “How did you keep yourself from attacking that Paragor rat?”

  “I didn’t,” Aidan replied simply.

  “What?” Gwenne asked, dumbfounded. “But you didn’t strike him—you, you surrendered your sword!”

  Aidan shook his head. “Gwenne, I can’t take credit for that. I wanted with all my heart to pound that no-good loudmouth! I very nearly did! But at the last second, I saw his eyes flicker red. And, I don’t know, I felt sad—that’s when I got the idea to surrender my sword. Boy, I’m sure glad that he didn’t take my sword!”

  Aidan and Gwenne laughed uncontrollably. It was the silly, bouncy laughter of ones who were utterly exhausted. Neither Aidan nor Gwenne had ever been so tired in their lives. In two days’ time, they had traveled the Grimwalk, narrowly escaped death in the Tempest, crawled and slid through countless miles of tunnels, and arrived at Mithegard, only to find their mortal enemies had arrived there first!

  A few minutes later a tray arrived, and Aidan and Gwenne shared their first real meal since leaving Alleble. It was only bread, salted beef, and a few pieces of fruit, but it was a banquet to them. After eating, Gwenne went to her room. Too tired to clean up, Aidan reclined in his bed. Sleep overcame them quickly, and Aidan and Gwenne slumbered peacefully deep into the night.

  Some hours later, Aidan was disturbed from his sleep by some noises in the cottage. It was too dark to see anything, but his hearing was alert. He could hear the crickets and other night sounds from outside, but there was something else—it was footsteps on the stone floor inside the cottage. Gwenne was in the other room, but it wasn’t her. The footfalls were heavy like a large man’s. The footsteps came closer. Someone was in the room. Aidan reached for his sword when suddenly, there was a bright flash of light!

  “Dad!” exclaimed Aidan, for in front of the bed stood King Ravelle, holding a brilliant candle that illuminated much of the room in an eerie blue light.

  “What did you call me?” asked the King curiously.

  “Uh . . . er . . . I mean, Your Majesty, what are you doing here?”

  “It is my kingdom, is it not?” he replied playfully. “I have come wit
h questions for you and your companion.” He arched an eyebrow and nodded over his shoulder at Gwenne, who had entered the room. She too stared in wonder at their unexpected royal guest.

  “My first question is quite simple, really,” the King continued. “Since your arrival in my chamber was a bit, how shall I put it— unusual, I did not get to hear your names.”

  Gwenne bowed low. “I am Gwenne, daughter of Lienne and Gamaliel, and servant of the noble King Eliam of Alleble. I am at your service.”

  The King nodded politely at Gwenne and then turned to Aidan. Aidan felt incredibly odd. Not only was it strange to introduce himself to a Glimpse who looked just like his dad, but he didn’t have any flashy titles or anything to make his name sound more important! He scoured his brain for something.

  Finally, he muttered, “Your Kingship, sir . . . uh, my name is Aidan, son of Charles, and I come from the land of, er . . . Colorado, but I am also on the King of Alleble’s, um . . . team.”

  The King stared at Aidan in awe. “Then I was right,” he said. “You are from the Realm of Legend, the Mirror Realm! How did you pass into this land?”

  “I was given scrolls, the story of Alleble,” Aidan explained. “And I learned about your world. When I had enough faith, the King of Alleble called me here.”

  Gwenne added, “Sir Aidan was called by the King of Alleble to be the Twelfth Knight in our company.”

  “You mean the company from Alleble?” asked the King. “The one that was lost when the Tempest hit?”

  “Yes,” Gwenne replied. “We still don’t know what has become of our friends.”

  “And Valithor was one . . . one of the lost?”

  “He was near to us when the Tempest struck,” Gwenne replied. “But in the debris of the storm I did not see if he stood or fell.”

  “But Captain Valithor, well, he’s a champion—the bravest and the strongest of anyone I’ve ever known,” Aidan said. “I just know he had to escape . . . somehow.”

  “But against a fist of ice and wind,” the King said sadly. “He would need more than courage and might.”

  Aidan stared at the floor.

  King Ravelle cleared his throat and said, “Servants of Alleble, let me come to my point of being here, for I must return soon to the castle lest anyone notice I am not in my chambers. My visit to you is a secret and could cause quite a stir if someone discovered it, but I had to come. When you told your story in my throne room, I did not trust your words, but your actions spoke clearly.

  “The brash young Knight of Paragor seemed intent on provoking you to violence, even having the nerve to assault you in my presence— a presumption I will not soon forget. Rather than striking back in anger, you surrendered your sword in peace. That was a gesture of such courage and nobility as few Glimpses in my service have ever demonstrated! How were you able to do this?”

  Aidan thought for a moment and then replied, “The King of Alleble gave me the power—I couldn’t have done it on my own.”

  “That is the way of King Eliam and all who serve him,” Gwenne added. “He does not tempt with gold or promise swords. He offers you and your kingdom peace and hope for the future.”

  The King stared hard at Aidan and Gwenne. “So that is why you have come? You are here on behalf of the King of Alleble, seeking a treaty with Mithegard?”

  “Not a treaty,” Gwenne replied, choosing her words carefully. “The King of Alleble asks only that you trust in him and be willing to serve the Kingdom of Alleble in its mission to bring peace to all the kingdoms of Glimpses in this land.”

  “Uh, King, sir,” Aidan stammered, “we also came to warn you.”

  “Warn me?!” The King’s expression became fierce. “Warn me? Does the King of Alleble threaten the good Kingdom of Mithegard?!”

  Aidan gulped. In the presence of a being so like his earthly father, he felt sure he’d just earned a lecture or worse. “No, no, no . . . what I meant was . . . we came to warn you about Paragory.”

  To Aidan’s great relief, Gwenne spoke up. “Good King, the Prince of Paragory offers you riches and power, but it will not last. The Prince is evil, and he will not share his power with anyone! He will pretend to be your friend, but faster than poison, he’ll turn on you and seek to make slaves of every last Glimpse in Mithegard!”

  “Slaves?!” barked the King. “That is a very serious charge, young lady. How can you be so sure of this?”

  “You may be sure of the Prince’s corruption,” said Gwenne, a tear welling up in her eye. “For the Prince and his bloodthirsty Paragor Knights have done this before. Long ago, when I was only five, the Paragor Knights invaded my home, the tiny province just south of Alleble called Acacia. They spoke of peace and friendship, but the moment our guard was down, they attacked. Those cruel Paragor Knights captured many Acacian Glimpses and slaughtered the rest. They . . . they murdered my parents . . .”

  Aidan stared in disbelief. Gwenne had never told him! The King of Mithegard stared as well. He seemed shocked, sad, and angry— all at once.

  “I am deeply moved by what you have told me,” the King whispered. “And I am afraid I have not judged rightly in this matter, perhaps to all our peril. Earlier this evening, Lord Rucifel advised me to sign a treaty promising that Mithegard would join with Paragory as allies. I refused because I wanted more time to consider the matter. Lord Rucifel seemed a bit offended, and he demanded I agree to the alliance. Again, I refused. Finally, he asked if I would grant permission for him and his men to return to Paragory. He claimed that he would bring back additional treasures from the Prince—treasures that might help persuade us to join with them. I was blinded by glittering images, so I allowed Rucifel and his men to depart.”

  “Good riddance,” Aidan said. “Maybe they’ll look to some other kingdom.”

  “No, you do not understand,” Gwenne said, her eyes wide with fear. “The Prince will not shrug and accept Mithegard’s rejection, not any longer. Either way King Ravelle chose to go, Paragor would have had his armies camped nearby—to invade or attack.”

  “Rucifel and his men,” King Ravelle spoke, turning his head slowly toward Gwenne. . . . “they have been inside the walls of my city. They know my defenses. They know where we are vulnerable. And my armies, my armies are not prepared. . . .” An uncomfortable silence fell over them.

  Unexpectedly, harsh orange light flashed in the cottage’s windows. A deafening explosion shook the ground beneath their feet. From afar came distant rumbling and the haunting blare of trumpets being blown.

  “We are under attack,” said the King. He rocketed from the cottage. “Mithegardians, awake! The armies of Paragory are coming!”

  23

  THE CURTAIN OF RED

  Led by King Ravelle, Aidan and Gwenne fled from their cottage into the streets of Mithegard. Nothing could prepare Aidan for the chaos he would see there.

  Burning projectiles launched from Paragory’s catapults gouged arcs in the predawn sky. They crashed into the kingdom with thunderous fury. One slammed into a cottage, collapsing and igniting it. Another bounced upon the stone of the courtyard fifty yards from where Aidan ran. It left a burning path and careened into the side of a one-lane bridge that spanned Mithegard’s natural spring. The bridge splintered and plummeted into the water.

  Burning debris from the explosions flew in every direction, causing hungry fires to spring up all over the kingdom. It seemed the enemy’s fire weapons could burn the very stone from which the kingdom was built.

  More horrible to Aidan than the explosions and fire were the screams. Animal-sounding wails that rose from every part of the city.

  It seemed that all of Mithegard filled the streets. Families stumbled toward the castle, ducking with the impact of each strike. Soldiers in their royal blue livery raced to support the guards upon the kingdom’s outer walls, screaming as they ran.

  Aidan and Gwenne scrambled to keep up with the King as he sprinted through the crowds and over piles of burning wreckage.

  T
hen, above even the screams and explosions, there came a sinister rumbling from behind. It sounded as if a great storm was about to hammer the Kingdom of Mithegard.

  “Gwenne!” Aidan yelled. “What’s that sound?”

  “Horses!” Gwenne screamed. She looked over her shoulder and stumbled. “Paragor must be bringing his full army to bear on the city!”

  “They’ll have to stop at the walls, right? The walls will hold, won’t they?” Aidan asked. Gwenne did not answer.

  The thunder abruptly stopped, and a chorus of trumpets rang out. For a split second everyone stood very still. A sense of danger hung heavy in the air. No one dared move. Aidan felt as if someone stood behind him with a knife raised to plunge into his back. But he would not turn.

  “THE ARCHERS!” bellowed the King, breaking the spell. “The Archers of Paragory are preparing to fire! Everyone seek shelter from the skies!”

  Aidan looked back toward the city walls and up into the sky. The walls seemed to be intact, though some were burning in places. Gwenne tugged at Aidan’s shoulder, but he would not look away from the sky. There wasn’t anything alarming there but smoke. What was the King talking about? There were no arch— Then, he saw it!

  Rising above the city walls, devouring the dawn sky, came an evil red curtain—undulating and billowing high above the kingdom walls. The arrows flung from the longbows of a horde of unseen Paragor archers looked like thousands of teeth. They seemed to pause at their pinnacle, and Aidan, mesmerized, stood and stared.

  If it weren’t for Gwenne grabbing his arm and pulling him into a nearby farmhouse, Aidan’s adventures and his life would have ended there. For, in moments, it literally rained arrows. Thuds, smacks, ricochets, and horrible stabbing sounds filled the air as the barrage of arrows pelted the city.

  Though they were inside and protected by the structure’s sturdy roof, Aidan and Gwenne covered their heads with their hands and ducked down. A few seconds and several thousand arrows later, it became dreadfully silent. Reluctantly, Aidan looked out of their shelter’s window. Anything that wasn’t made of solid stone had become riddled with dozens of the cruel-looking, red-shafted arrows. But there was no sign of King Ravelle.