“NO!!” Robby yelled, and he lunged to thrust his sword into Paragor’s back, but the wolvin suddenly roused and its jaws clamped down on Robby’s arm. The pressure became too great, and his sword clattered to the ground. The creature released his arm. Paragor turned and swiftly took up the sword.
“That was a mistake,” Paragor said. “My patience grows thin. Tomorrow, at sunrise, I will offer you one last chance. I hope then you will make a better decision.”
The word decision hung in the air. And Robby’s mind went suddenly back to the old Glimpse who spoke with him at the foot of Pennath Ador. He too had spoken about decisions. And then, Robby felt chills. He understood! “Wait!” he said to Paragor. “I have seen King Eliam! He spoke with me once-like he’d known me his whole life. And… he made me an offer too. He offered me hope.”
Paragor scowled and nodded to someone behind Robby. Robby went to turn, but something struck him in the back of the head. Robby fell into darkness.
With her back to the sixth fountain, Antoinette held up her sword as a mass of Paragor Knights slowly closed in on her. But no lightning came down. She looked up for a moment and saw white veins of electricity spidering toward a central point, but they were cut off. Brighter green lightning clawed out of the churning clouds like the root of some creeping vine. It crossed the white lightning and choked it until it was gone. Antoinette lowered the Daughter of Light, but when she looked back to the enemy, they parted, revealing a path. And walking slowly up the path was a tall Glimpse warrior. He had long blond hair and held a wide-bladed sword at his side.
“Kearn?” she mouthed. He drew closer and stopped just a few feet away. He sheathed his sword and smiled. It was Kearn, but how this could be, Antoinette had no idea. That would mean Robby had left The Realm. She turned to look near the second fountain. It was the last place she remembered seeing him. But there was no sign of him or any of his dragons. Antoinette heard a sudden fierce growl and something hit her hard. She slammed backward into the stonework at the base of the fountain and slid down. She felt tremendous pressure on her rib cage. Her mind swimming and her vision blurry, she squinted and saw the snarling teeth of one of the Sleepers. She turned to look for her sword, but it had fallen far out of reach. There was a flash and a wave of heat. A stream of fire streaked down from the sky, and a shadow passed overhead. All Antoinette could do was turn her head. Shaking and barely able to breathe, Antoinette looked back. Her sword was gone, and she heard laughter.
The wolvin took its paws from her chest armor, and Antoinette tried desperately to fight off unconsciousness. She focused somewhat and saw a Glimpse warrior there, but it was not Kearn. There was a resemblance, but this knight was much older. His skin looked stretched, and his eyes were sunken. He carried a sword in each hand, and he wore a ghastly smile.
Rucifel! Antoinette thought. Then everything went dark.
From far across the road, Aidan saw the wolvin appear from nowhere and pounce on Antoinette. As he drove his dragon steed to break-neck speed, he watched helplessly as the Wyrm Lord unleashed a wicked flame. He burned her alive, Aidan thought, but then he saw the Wyrm Lord take to the air with a limp knight in his grasp.
“Antoinette!” he cried, and he spurred his dragon steed to follow. But the dragon beneath him suddenly shrieked and faltered. It crashed twenty feet to the road, and Aidan flew out of the saddle, landing in a heap near a large catapult that rested upon a hill. Aidan shook his head. He saw that the scrap of parchment had slipped out of his armor. He snatched it up and stood. And there in the middle of the battlefield, Aidan came face-to-face with an old enemy.
“Rucifel!” Aidan cried, and he raised Fury.
“I am pleased that you remember me.” He grinned, baring his teeth like a skull.
“Where has the Wyrm Lord taken Antoinette?” Aidan demanded.
“To the same place I will take you!” Rucifel hissed. “Now, drop your sword.”
Aidan took Fury and swiped at Rucifel, just missing his ear.
“Then,” Rucifel said, beginning to whirl his two weapons, “we will do this the hard way!”
Rucifel’s blades came at Aidan from every direction, forcing him back. Aidan blocked and leaped, sidestepped and ducked. Rucifel pressed on, hammering away at Aidan’s blade. Aidan stumbled to one knee. As he stood, he glanced at the slope behind him.
The first sword missed Aidan’s head by an inch. It slammed into the massive catapult’s wheel, stuck for a moment, and jerked free. In that breath of time, Aidan batted away the second sword and threw himself down the hill.
This foe was beyond Aidan’s skill. His only chance was to get away, to escape. Aidan looked down at the torn parchment in his hand. Aidan did not understand all of the Scroll of Prophecy, but he knew from Zabediel’s pleas that the scrap was important, and that he must not let the enemy get it.
As he ran, Aidan glanced over his shoulder. The knight in dark armor crashed down the hill, gaining rapidly as he pursued Aidan. His cloak trailed behind him like a gray wing, and he swung his two swords in arcs, carving the wind. The blades came closer… and closer.
Before Aidan could run another yard, the knight in dark armor fell upon him. Aidan turned, fended off a blow, then ran a few steps; turned again, sidestepped one blade, and barely blocked the other.
“Where will you go?” rasped a voice that seemed to reach for Aidan. “Your kingdom is in ruin. All is lost!”
The enemy’s taunts threatened to strangle the small hope that lingered in Aidan’s heart. But Aidan would not give in. Aidan blocked another savage blow from the enemy and slashed away his second blade. Again, Aidan lunged away from his foe.
Suddenly, he saw his chance. Beyond the next hill a horse struggled, its reins tangled around its dead rider’s arm. Drawing from his final reserve of strength, Aidan charged up the hill and dove for the horse. It shrieked and staggered under the sudden weight but did not fall. Aidan swept his sword up and cut the tangled reins. He thrust the parchment under his breastplate and slapped the horse hard on its hindquarters.
“Go!” Aidan screamed.
The beast reared briefly but then surged ahead with such force that Aidan nearly fell. He could not reach what was left of the reins with his free hand, so he clutched the horse’s neck with all his might.
Aidan looked back. The knight in dark armor was now far behind and had given up pursuit. Just as Aidan allowed himself a grim smile, something hit him-hard-in the back, knocking him off the horse. He heard a sharp snap and felt the air forced out of his lungs.
He lay in a heap, his face to the ground. A dull pain throbbed in his right arm. Dizzy, he spit dust and debris from his mouth and looked up weakly from the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an enormous black wing in the gray sky.
Finally, Aidan got to his feet and saw his plight. The outer walls of Alleble had been breached, fires burned everywhere on the main thoroughfare, and the fountains could barely be seen in the wind-driven banks of black smoke. Paragor’s infantry, a massive force in black armor, closed in on Aidan. I didn’t think it would end this way, Aidan thought.
He held Fury in his left hand and clutched his ruined right wrist to his chest. But I will not be felled easily! Aidan stared at the enemy and a grim smile formed upon his lips. He held Fury out menacingly and turned in a circle so that all who approached could see its point.
But suddenly, just as they came within reach of Aidan’s sword, the enemy soldiers stopped and began to fall back. To Aidan’s astonishment, they turned completely and fled in all directions. But Aidan did not smile. He did not sigh with relief. And he did not drop his guard, for he felt a presence behind him.
There rose a winged shadow. Ten times in size it was, compared to the knight who stood alone to face it. The firstborn dragon, the Wyrm Lord, now in his fullness of strength, stared at Aidan and bore down upon him with all his malice-filled thought. He spread his great black wings wide, raised his muscular forelegs high in the air, and roared so loud that Ai
dan’s ears rang.
But Aidan would not falter. This wretched creature was the cause of so much pain. It had consumed whole kingdoms. No, Aidan would not cower or run from this foul thing. He would face the Wyrm Lord. And with fury and vengeance bubbling inside him, Aidan would smite this thing if he could.
The Wyrm Lord flung a grasping claw at Aidan, but Aidan lunged to the side and slammed Fury’s keen edge hard upon his extended talon. The scales upon that dragon finger were not as stout as the wyrm’s body armor, and a great gash was opened upon it. The Wyrm Lord shrieked in pain and wrenched back his arm.
“I am one of the Three Witnesses of Legend!” Aidan cried out. “You will not slay me!”
The Wyrm Lord looked at the dark blood oozing from his wounded talon. And then, for the first time since King Eliam closed the stone door imprisoning him beneath the lake of fire, there was fear in the eyes of the Wyrm Lord. But the king of all dragons would not quail for long. He turned and once again bent his gaze upon Aidan. His lips curled into a snarl, and his great jaws opened. And then the Wyrm Lord spoke. Aidan remembered the voice from his dreams and visions. It was the sound of words spoken from long ago, and each syllable scraped like great stones sliding off of a tomb. “You are already dead!”
The creature reared back and vomited forth a stream of liquid fire, but Aidan lunged out of the way. The flames enveloped the fallen horse, reducing it to cinders in mere seconds. Fire came at Aidan again. This time, he dove behind a ruined catapult and ran out as the fire consumed it. The Wyrm Lord tried twice more to burn Aidan, but somehow Aidan eluded the flames. The creature swiped at Aidan as he dove. Aidan sprawled onto the stone and lay in front of the great beast. He looked up and saw the ancient dragon’s jaws open. The Wyrm Lord struck swiftly like a great cobra, but Aidan rolled to one knee, and with all his might brought Fury crashing down on the dragon’s outstretched neck.
The scales on the great wyrm’s neck, hardened and baked over centuries, were stronger than plate armor, and Fury shattered upon them. In shock, Aidan dropped what was left of Fury and fell backward to the road. The Wyrm Lord brought his massive talon down, pinning Aidan’s legs, and swung his head toward the fallen warrior.
Aidan stared up at the creature and thought of the Scroll of Prophecy. He thought of his King. “I tried, King Eliam,” he said. “I tried.”
The creature opened his jaws and the great fangs drew closer to Aidan, but suddenly something slammed into the Wyrm Lord, lifting him from his feet and sending him crashing onto his back. And there, to Aidan’s astonishment, grappling fiercely with the Wyrm Lord, was Falon.
And Falon’s vengeance was terrible. She clawed at the wyrm with many sets of her limbs. The talons tore scales free and rent the dragon’s flesh. She coiled her badly burned body around the Wyrm Lord’s torso and began to constrict.
But the element of surprise lasted only a moment. The firstborn dragon spread his great wings and lifted himself and Falon from the ground. Then he let himself come crashing to the ground, the brunt of the impact on Falon’s coils. Aidan heard the mortiwraith roar in pain, and part of her coils came free from the Wyrm Lord’s body and dangled limply. Falon was losing.
Aidan watched in horror as Falon tore herself from the Wyrm Lord’s grasp and slithered up the length of the dragon’s neck. She grabbed the Wyrm Lord’s jaws with five pairs of her talons and began to wrench the creature’s mouth open. She let one segment of her serpentine body fall into the jaws of the dragon, and coiled the rest of her dying body around his neck and head.
The Wyrm Lord clawed and scratched. He had to get Falon out of his mouth, or he would choke to death. For a brief moment Falon’s eyes met Aidan’s, and Aidan understood: It was Falon’s only way of ensuring victory over the dragon.
The firstborn dragon bit down with all the crushing power his jaws could manage. Falon shrieked and fell limp. No longer constricted, the Wyrm Lord threw the mortiwraith down and roared. Dark blood dripped from his mouth. Then, the triumphant dragon took flight, only to quickly fall to the ground screeching in agony and clawing at the sky. With one final shriek, the Wyrm Lord moved no more.
43
THE OFFER
A group of no less than twelve heavily armed Paragor Knights dragged Aidan through the wreckage en route to the castle. As Aidan was pulled into Alleble, his hope was shattered by what he saw: The thoroughfare of Alleble, once grand and sparkling, was now littered with the dead. The steady, peaceful rush of the fountains was destroyed by shrill cries from the wounded and the weeping of those who mourned. Several of the fountains ran red.
Fires burned out of control, engulfing blocks of Glimpse homes in flames. At least four of the Seven Sleepers still remained, and they rampaged unchecked, smashing into cottages, killing the families within for food or for sport. Alleble’s once proud standing army had been reduced to pockets of resistance presently being surrounded by Paragor’s forces. Smoke rose from the parapets of the Castle of Alleble, and Paragor’s forces roamed freely upon its battlements.
“Lord Rucifel found where they were all hidden away,” one of the knights whispered to another. “There are catacombs beneath the castle-crammed full of women and children!”
“Really?” said another. He whistled. “What is the master going to do with them all?”
The first knight laughed. “Those who know what is good for them will see things our way! The others are to be burned, I expect… or fed to the wolves!”
“Let that be a warning to you!” One of the knights smacked Aidan on the back of the head. “When you get your chance, join the victorious army!”
“He is already dressed for the part!” chided another. They laughed raucously. Aidan’s head flopped to the side, and he saw the world of horrors.
As they passed the second fountain, Aidan’s eyes met just for a moment with the dead eyes of a soldier of Alleble. He was draped awkwardly over the fountain pool wall, his pale face streaked with blood. Aidan blinked and looked away. It was Kindle. Aidan saw one more thing before the enemy dragged him into the Castle of Alleble. It was the last fountain, dry and empty.
They took Aidan to a cell beneath Guard’s Keep. There was a heavy clank as a bolt slid free, and they shoved Aidan into the dark cell. He sprawled facedown, pushed himself up with his left hand, and then flopped onto his back. His right wrist was on fire, his body ached, and his thoughts were dark and dreary like the cell. He reached suddenly under his armor. The scrap of the Scroll of Prophecy was still there. It was the only hope Aidan had left.
The Paragor Knights had scoured the catacombs beneath the Castle of Alleble. But not carefully enough.
Kaliam and Lady Merewen crept stealthily through a chamber door, but froze when they heard a scraping sound. “Faethon?” Kaliam whispered.
“No,” a voice came from the shadows. “It is Naysmithe. This way.”
Kaliam and Lady Merewen followed the sound of his voice down a long, dimly lit corridor and eventually came face-to-face with the second Sentinel of the land. “Follow me,” he said. And he led them through twists and turns of stone that they had not traveled before. They came at last to a place where the passage seemed to end. Naysmithe ran his hand along a seam in the stone. They heard a faint click, and then the wall swung inward as if on a hinge. Naysmithe shut the hidden door behind them and said, “Wait here.”
Kaliam and Lady Merewen were left in the dark, but Naysmithe returned with a candle and led them farther inside. They found a small dusty room with a tower of square wooden shelves, each filled with piles of scrolls. There was an austere wooden desk adorned with only a quill pen and a dark bottle of ink. There was also a bench that drew the eye because upon it was the only thing in the room not covered in dust or cobwebs. There lay an intricate tapes-try of Alleble’s seal, the sun rising between the peaks of Pennath Ador. But it was clearly covering something… something longish with unusual humps at either end.
“You were looking for the mortiwraith?” Naysmithe asked, raising a
dark eyebrow flecked with gray. “He is yet undiscovered.”
“Good, yes!” said Kaliam. “We need him to help us. The Three Witnesses, Aidan, Antoinette, and Robby, are captured and-”
“And awaiting trial before Paragor,” Naysmithe finished the sentence. “Yes, I know of Paragor’s plans. It is all his servants talk about, carelessly, for they know not who might be listening.” Naysmithe grinned.
“What is this place?” Lady Merewen asked.
“It is a sanctuary for my studies,” Naysmithe replied. “And given recent events, it has also become a convenient place for me to wait.”
“Well, the time of waiting is over, my friend,” Kaliam said. “We must get Faethon and free the Witnesses. I believe that Mallik, Farix, and-”
“In vain!” Naysmithe interrupted. “You will not free the Three Witnesses. They will free you.”
“What?” Kaliam exclaimed. “Aidan, Antoinette, and Robby are held in a cage beneath Guard’s Keep-we must rescue them. Alleble has no hope without them!”
“Alleble’s only hope is to let the Three Witnesses do what they must do.”
“We cannot just wait and do nothing,” Lady Merewen objected.
“That is precisely what we must do,” Naysmithe replied enigmatically. “Turn and see what I have here. The last took me some time-I barely finished before Paragor’s attack began.”
Naysmithe turned, held up the candle, and lifted the tapestry. Kaliam and Lady Merewen gasped.
Aidan heard a groan from the shadows across the cell. Some flickering light filtered in through the cell door, and a band of gray came from the barred window high in the center of the cell wall. “Is someone there?” Aidan asked. He was not afraid.
“Aidan?” A pained whisper, but Aidan felt sure he knew the voice.
“Antoinette?” he called. He heard something slide, the grate of metal on stone, and then Antoinette walked into the gray light. Aidan ran to her and they embraced. “Oww!” Aidan yelped. “My wrist. I think it’s broken.”
The Final Storm tdw-3 Page 27