The Final Storm tdw-3

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  “Older than time,” Zabediel said with a laugh. “And so I almost am. I am in the line of Torin, Pureblood, the firstborn in all The Realm! I walked with King Eliam when all things were safe and beautiful, and I heard him speak the fate of this world. It was I who wrote his words down in the most ancient of tongues, and I alone of living Glimpse-kind can read all of what is written here.”

  “What does it say?” Aidan blurted out.

  “Such knowledge is a heavy burden to bear. It is because of this that Paragor ripped me away from my wooded refuge and subjected me to agonizing tortures. Ye see, this is but the final piece of the Scroll of Prophecy that Paragor now commands. He stole it from the heart of Sil Arnoth, the firstborn tree of all The Realm. But old Arnoth was more clever than Paragor supposed. Even in death, he would not relinquish it all. The longer portion that the enemy now holds is incomplete. He suspected this for a time, but I think-thanks to my own efforts and to Aidan’s-Paragor is now content with what he has. And we must hope that he will continue to believe that.”

  “What do you mean?” Antoinette asked.

  “The Scroll of Prophecy tells many things,” Zabediel explained. “For Paragor it tells what his itching ears want to hear: how final victory over Alleble might be achieved. He is wise in his cunning and well-learned in ancient tongues. Between what he was able to decipher on his own and what he was able to torture out of me, Paragor has unleashed the Wyrm Lord and the Seven Sleepers. They are a bane to this world, and two thirds of the final disaster that Paragor longs to visit on all Glimpse-kind.”

  “Two thirds?” Aidan said. “I don’t understand.”

  “No,” Zabediel said, holding up the parchment and smiling grimly. “And neither does Paragor. For he does not know what is written on this, the last part of the prophecy. And he does not realize how the end he foresees could be his own.”

  “Will you tell us the prophecy?” Aidan asked.

  “I will,” he replied eagerly. “For, unless my wisdom is far astray, the prophecy concerns you both.”

  Aidan and Antoinette stared at each other and then back at Zabediel.

  “‘Hear now, you called ones of the King,’” Zabediel read from the scroll. “‘Hear King Eliam the Everlasting’s prophecy-in its entirety-as it has not been spoken since the beginning.’”

  Aidan and Antoinette lost all sense of where they were when Zabediel began to recite the prophecy from memory. The walls of the passage peeled back, and the flickering torch blazed anew and became a distant sun rising over a pristine green world. All was serene, but a bruised sky on the western horizon signaled a storm was coming.

  Laugh and be glad, realm from my hand.

  Wind and trees, sing songs.

  Mountains rise and smile at the sky.

  My children, grow and be strong.

  Gifts I have given thee, and gifts will I give

  To the firstborn and all of your kin.

  A path of light I have laid out before thee,

  And the greater prize, choose from within.

  Alas, my children, among thee,

  In the darkness, a deed will be done.

  Covetous wyrm ire will burn like white fire,

  And innocent blood will run.

  Wind and tall trees will fall silent.

  Mountains will scowl and shudder.

  The sky will turn black and

  My children will weep

  For the realm torn asunder.

  From Torin’s Keep, the dragon will fly,

  Swift on the wing, away from my eye.

  Into the deep forest where

  The first wolvins dwell,

  He will teach them his secrets and

  Persuade them to lie.

  No forest will hide, the blood-red stain

  Of their unfortunate choices.

  And though they lay quiet beneath the boughs,

  I still hear their voices.

  Traitorous wyrm! I see from afar.

  The whole realm groans around thee.

  In the Shattered Lands your

  Consequence stands

  Entombed beneath a molten sea.

  I will call the Seven, out from their den,

  And though they beg and weep,

  A sepulcher of trees will be their doom,

  And evermore they sleep.

  From the sorrow, new hope will spring.

  Glimpse-kind will fill all the lands.

  Alleble will be my beacon.

  Seven fountains where the waters dance.

  All will know of my kingdom,

  And I will watch over all.

  From near and far and the Mirror Realm,

  Many will answer my call.

  I will choose my favored one

  And give him the sword of the pure.

  Yet his loyalty like a castle wall

  Will but for a time endure.

  His will be the black desire

  To make the wyrm’s choice his own.

  Innocent blood will spill again,

  A fountain left as dry as bone.

  The Betrayer will be cast out,

  But in the darkness will reign.

  He will prey on the weak and weak-minded,

  And rule with a scepter of pain.

  In secret, his armies will swell,

  Bloated by vengeance and greed.

  The firstborn wyrm will rise again,

  And the Seven will no longer sleep.

  In Alleble the bells will peal

  When the Herald comes forth

  And calls the name of Three Witnesses

  In the kingdom’s darkest hour.

  Heroes, seers of visions,

  Travelers of both Passage and Thread,

  Warriors of the Mirror Realm

  Become The Betrayer’s dread.

  The Child of Storms, the Dragonfriend,

  The Seeker of the Lost,

  Will raise their swords in battle

  And dare to risk the cost.

  They will charge into the darkness,

  The Black Breath of the wyrm.

  And shine like bands of sunlight

  In the coming final storm.

  But when all efforts have failed,

  And The Betrayer has taken the throne,

  The Witnesses will be brought alive

  And two destinies will be shown.

  They must face the offer

  To see the victory in his eyes.

  The Betrayer he must turn them

  Or else must take their lives.

  “That is the end,” Zabediel explained, and his voice returned to normal. “The end as Paragor knows it. I have gone through great pain to convince him that there is no more that could affect his rise to power and Alleble’s fall.”

  The torchlight flickered and thunder rumbled ominously.

  “The prophecy makes it clear that Paragor will capture the Three Witnesses. And as far as his arrogant imagination is concerned, he believes that when he does, his victory will be assured.”

  “But the prophecy… it doesn’t end there,” Aidan said. “You haven’t read from the parchment I found.”

  “No, it does not end there, Sir Aidan,” Zabediel confirmed. “And let all The Realm rejoice because it does not. There is more, and there is, I think… hope. I read it now to you. May you understand it well.”

  When the Witnesses decide,

  Former deeds may be undone.

  The Seven Swords may be unveiled.

  Worlds once divided become one.

  “That’s it?” Aidan blurted out. “When the Witnesses decide? Decide what?”

  “You will know when that time comes,” Zabediel answered.

  “But it says ‘Former deeds MAY be undone.’ That doesn’t sound very certain.”

  “I did not claim that the prophecy would guarantee victory,” said Zabediel. “To think that it does would be to err like Paragor. I only said the last part of the prophecy offers hope, and it does.”

  “But what
are the Seven Swords?” Antoinette objected.

  “There, Lady Antoinette, my wisdom fails,” said Zabediel. “Perhaps that is a question for someone else to answer.”

  Thunder slammed and reverberated in the stone walls of the hallway.

  “The storm,” whispered Antoinette. “Zabed, can you run now?”

  Zabed nodded. “I fear we must run or we all will perish.”

  32

  A GREATER MISSION

  A ll through the night, Warriant, the first vanguard of Balesparr, mobilized his soldiers to help the citizens of his village prepare for evacuation. Thrivenbard promised he would send a fleet of dragons back to bear them to their new homes in the Kingdom of Alleble.

  Baleneers led Thrivenbard and the remaining Knights of Alleble to their dragons on the edge of King’s Forest.

  Now, as Thrivenbard, his knights, and a large contingent of Baleneer spearmen passed through the gap between the mountains, Thrivenbard was lost in thought. He was grateful Warriant had sent his spearmen to help defend Alleble, but the Alleble commander’s thoughts still lingered on the ones who would not be coming back-the warriors who died in that perilous forest. And, of course, the fact that Zabediel was now in the hands of the enemy was even more bad news for the followers of King Eliam.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a thunderous crack. From high above, the dragon riders from Alleble saw newly erected scaffolds and platforms, nested in various crags upon the western face of the mountains. There was another earsplitting crack, followed by a great grinding sound.

  “Witness the craft of King Brower and his kin!!” Thrivenbard called out in a loud shout.

  They watched in rapt amazement as a huge white section of stone detached itself from the mountain’s face and slid slowly down until it disappeared into a cloud of snow and debris at the foot of the mountain. The dragon riders swooped down beyond the drifting cloud and found thousands of Glimpse craftsmen in teams of fifties and hundreds gathered around massive segments of that same brilliant white stone. Some of the Glimpses wielded immense hammers and pounded on enormous wedges and chisels. Still others were busy with serpentine hoses, spilling gallons of snowmelt wherever metal met stone.

  “Look!” Robby pointed, drawing even with Trenna as they soared over the copse of evergreens and the training compound behind the castle. And below the dragon riders, a steady train of long wagons crept slowly along a newly cleared path. The wagons were drawn by dozens of stocky blackhorne and their payload: more huge sections of white rock. Some were cut in vast sheets, others into massive triangles.

  Trumpets blared, for the heralds had seen the return of the team from King’s Forest. And all the dragon riders looked up and were astonished by the sight before them. Protected by dizzyingly intricate networks of scaffolds, and rising so high that they hid the western horizon from view, were immense new battlements made of the pure white stone from the twin mounts of Pennath Ador. Not nearly complete, but clearly well in progress, the walls and towers stood gleaming in the morning sun.

  “By the King’s grace!” Sir Oswyn sang out. “They work fast!”

  “Elspeth, all of our remaining allies have arrived. King Brower’s folk are working like frenzied ants upon the walls. And the scouts on the Cold River have not returned with any news of threat. Do you have everything you need for the dinner celebration this evening?”

  “Yes, m’lord.”

  “There is one more thing I request of you, Elspeth-but you must keep it as a secret.”

  Curious, Elspeth stepped closer to him. “M’lord.”

  “Merewen and I shall marry at the celebration this evening,” he said, handing her a piece of parchment. “Would you be sure all of the people on this list are invited to join us in the King’s Garden?”

  Elspeth grinned. “I will personally see to it, Sir Kaliam. We shall all have a merry time tonight. Yes-”

  A sharp knock at the door interrupted Elspeth.

  “Sentinel Kaliam!” a voice called. “Thrivenbard has returned from King’s Forest! He awaits you with news in Guard’s Keep!”

  Kaliam took his place next to Lady Merewen at the head of the table in Guard’s Keep. Gathered there as well were King Ravelle, King Brower, Queen Illaria, Lord Sternhilt, Robby, Trenna, and a dozen other prominent Glimpse warriors.

  Thrivenbard stood and told the tale. He spoke of the battle with serpents and spiders and the lives that were lost there. He told of the finding of the hidden village of Balesparr and of their promise to fight for Alleble against the enemy. And last, he told of Paragor’s daring attack on Balesparr where he took Zabediel, the aged scribe, and flew away with him to the dark mountains in the west.

  “How long ago did this happen?” Kaliam asked. His eyes were vacant, and his face wore a stunned expression. “How long ago did Paragor take Zabediel?”

  “Two seasons, according to Warriant,” Thrivenbard replied.

  “Two seasons?!” Kaliam exclaimed. “That would put it before the battle at Mithegard!” Kaliam was silent a few moments, lost in thought. “This Warriant fellow,” he said at last. “You say his eyes glint green. Are you sure you can trust him?”

  Nock spoke up. “Sir Warriant is an honorable knight. If Paragor was his master, we would all be dead now. When we approached the hidden village, Sir Warriant and his Baleneers surrounded us in a clearing. They waited among the treetops with their sharp spears at the ready. It would have been like catching fish in a barrel.”

  “Besides,” Sir Oswyn chimed in, “if Sir Warriant was an agent of the enemy, he could just as easily have had eyes that glint blue to deceive us.”

  “No, these are Zabediel’s folk,” concluded Thrivenbard. “He is no enemy of Alleble.”

  Kaliam stood and paced the front of the room. “Two seasons,” he muttered to himself. And then to the group, “If it is as you say, then it answers many hard questions but leaves me still with one that troubles me even more. We can now guess that Paragor had the Scroll of Prophecy and Zabediel before our journey to Yewland. It must be that the Scroll revealed the location of the tomb of the Wyrm Lord in the Shattered Lands, as well as the Sepulcher of the Seven Sleepers in the Blackwood. This is how Paragor is able to stay ahead of our plans.”

  “Those are the answers,” Lady Merewen said, looking with concern to Kaliam. “What troubles you still?”

  Kaliam looked directly at her and then at the group assembled before him. “What I still do not understand-and forgive me for questioning the wisdom of our King-but, if Paragor took Zabediel months ago, the King must have known. Why, then, would he wait and send us on a mission that could not be achieved?”

  “Perhaps there was a greater mission,” Thrivenbard said as he stood. “M’lord Kaliam, I struggled with this same thought as I mourned the loss of many of our team. Why send them to their doom if Zabediel is not there to be rescued? But then I realized that while we have lost some of our finest warriors, we have gained thousands in return. And the spears they wield are swift, as silent as the grave, and deadly accurate! I wonder how many lives the Baleneers will save by going to war on our side.”

  Many expressed agreement with Thrivenbard as they left the afternoon meeting. Two warriors remained seated near Kaliam: Robby and Lady Merewen.

  “I liked what Thrivenbard said about King Eliam,” Robby said. “I haven’t known him long-the King, I mean-but that’s kinda the way he is. I mean, I’ve wondered for a long time about why things happen the way they do. I wondered why my dad left-abandoned us when I was little. But if he hadn’t, we might never have moved to Maryland. I might never have met Aidan. And then I wondered why Aidan had to move, but he needed to talk to his grandfather-needed to hear about Alleble so he could try to get the truth through my thick head.

  “So many things had to happen just the right way to get me here!” Robby wiped the tear off his cheek. “Y’know, I was thinking that maybe one of the reasons King Eliam waited so long to send a team into the forest was because of me. I learned a
lot in those woods. I learned that some things are worth risking my life for.” He thought of Trenna and her radiant smile. “And I also learned I hate spiders!” Robby and Kaliam burst out in laughter.

  Kaliam put his arm on Robby’s shoulder for a moment. “Thank you,” he said.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Robby replied.

  “Yes… yes, you did.”

  Robby grinned and seemed to stand a little straighter. “I’ll see you, m’lord,” he said. “I’m gonna go play with Splinter.”

  “Do you still question?” Lady Merewen asked just after Robby left.

  “I do not question the King’s judgment, no,” Kaliam replied.

  “But I can see doubt lingering in your eyes,” Lady Merewen said, taking his hand.

  “You have a gift, m’lady, for seeing beyond my words,” Kaliam said, smiling a little sadly. “The doubt you see is not doubt of the King. I doubt myself.”

  “Why so?” she asked. “Alleble’s armies number nearly as many as our enemy now that our allies have all come-and add to that a legion of adept spearmen! The new walls will be complete in a few days. You have prepared as well as may be.”

  “You encourage me, Merewen,” he said. “But Paragor wields the Wyrm Lord and the Sleepers. He has also the Scroll of Prophecy and Zabediel, the only one left alive who could interpret it fully. Without that wisdom and knowledge, how can I possibly know for sure who the Three Witnesses are?”

  33

  DRANG’S GAME

  T he torchlit passages in the heart of Paragor’s stronghold twisted and turned like a den of serpents. “Please tell me you aren’t lost,” Antoinette said when Aidan stopped suddenly at a fork in the path.

  “Quiet, I’m thinking!” Aidan barked.

  Zabed placed a withered hand on Aidan’s shoulder. “What place does thou hope to find?” he asked.

  “It’s a huge balcony,” Aidan said. “On the northern side of the great tower. I tied the dragons there.”

  “Does thou mean the tower crowned with thorns?”

  “Yes!” Aidan exclaimed.

  “Then take the passage on thy left,” Zabed explained.

  There came a strange rumbling from below. It grew louder, and Aidan recognized the sound as the tromping of many iron-shod feet. Paragor had not emptied his fortress completely after all. “Soldiers!” Aidan shouted. “Antoinette, they know you’ve escaped! We must hurry!”