The Rise of the Wrym Lord

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  Aelic hung his head at the news.

  “Take us there,” Kaliam commanded. “There may yet be enemies about, for they are dark like this landscape.”

  Deep thunder growled within Pennath Ruin as riders soared around its base. They gave the volcano a wide berth, for it bubbled tempestuously as if it might rain fire down on top of them at any moment. They came at last to the backside and found the scene as Oswyn had described it. Structures of iron stood, wheeled engines and shafts made for delving in rock. Rails had been laid and toppled carts lay in many places. There were canals cut into the side of the mountain. Some led away from the base of the volcano and were half filled with cooled magma. Others were blocked with dams or had channels diverting flows elsewhere. One great culvert was still full and flowing with white-hot lava that oozed continuously from the volcano’s mouth. And everywhere there were tracks and trails and the prints of uncountable boots.

  “I should have thought to bring Mallik!” Kaliam said. “He would certainly guess the work of the enemy. His folk know all things concerning rock and iron.”

  “I am puzzled by this riddle,” said Farix. “These structures, the equipment, and the channels—they appear to me to be the work of many strong Glimpses. An army of four legions like the one we saw near the Blackwood could do this, yes. But this does not appear to me to be a recent endeavor.”

  “Lady Merewen, do you know anything of this?” Kaliam asked.

  “If I did,” she replied indignantly, “I would have told you long ago. The Prince’s armies were constantly on the move while I served the wrong lord, but no rumor of labor in the Shattered Lands reached my ears.”

  “I am sorry, Lady Merewen,” Kaliam said. “I did not mean it as an accusation. I am simply at a loss.”

  “Could the heat and soot make this look old when it is actually new?” Aelic asked.

  “Maybe,” replied Farix.

  “Captain, come up here!” called Sir Wahlion. He had scaled a twisted rocky outcropping and now stood high upon it. Kaliam and the others followed.

  “What is it?” Kaliam asked. “What do you see?”

  “Well, sir, from down there I did not see much of anything,” said Sir Wahlion, pointing out into the wasteland that stretched between the base of Pennath Ruin and the next volcanic mount. “But it takes on a different look up here.”

  Aelic stared out into the wasteland, and indeed it did look dif ferent. It was somewhat concave like a shallow valley or . . . “It is the lake of fire!”

  “What?” Kaliam asked.

  “Sir, look!” Aelic pointed. “Do you see the way the channels at the base of the volcano all curl away? Think of how the lava would flow if the channels were not there!”

  “Yes, yes! I see it now!” Kaliam said excitedly. “Pennath Ruin would fill this crater over time, and it would become a lake of fire! Riders, to your steeds! If we are right, we must search this blackened valley for the tomb!”

  They took to the air and soared out above the empty lake, but as they circled and began to search, there came an ominous rumbling from Pennath Ruin. Smoke issued forth from unseen vents and swirled into the sky. The mouth of the volcano went dim, and it became strangely quiet.

  A blinding flash of orange lit the sky, and with the sound of cannon fire, Pennath Ruin erupted. Hot ash rained down upon the riders, and large hunks of rock began to fall.

  “Take cover!” Kaliam bellowed. But it was too late. A jagged rock, streaked red and glowing like an ember, hit Sir Wahlion as he tried to race away. He and his steed fell still burning to the shattered ground. Another piece of smoking debris struck Lady Merewen’s dragon just as she left the ground. But Farix upon his dragon dove down hard and fast. The dragon reached for Lady Merewen’s limp form, gathered her gently, and flew swiftly away. The riders who survived gathered on a ledge at the other side of the crater.

  “Lady Merewen!” Kaliam cried when he saw that Farix carried her in his arms.

  “She lives!” Farix yelled. “The stone struck her steed, but she is only unconscious from the shock.” Kaliam took her from Farix and laid her gently on the ground. He brushed her silver hair with his hand, and her eyes opened.

  Suddenly, another explosion rocked the landscape. They turned and watched in horror as it seemed that the entire backside of Pennath Ruin was turned to molten red and began a long, slow slide into the basin.

  “The lava has overflowed the channels!” Kaliam yelled.

  Lady Merewen looked up at him. “Go,” she said. “If you do not act now, we may never know.”

  Kaliam started to argue.

  “I will be fine,” she assured him. And with a slight sway, she stood. “Now, go! Find the tomb!”

  Kaliam leaped into the saddle and urged the dragon into the air. The lava flowed steadily into the valley. Steam issued forth like geysers and great clouds of ash and soot swirled. Kaliam guided the dragon below the mist and just above the broken ground. Close behind him Aelic steered his dragon steed low, while scanning the wasteland. They circled round and round, and all the while, streams of molten rock poured into the basin.

  “Kaliam!” Aelic yelled. “There! I saw something! Turn!” Aelic wasn’t sure if Kaliam had heard, but then he saw Kaliam’s dragon wheel about.

  “Yes, I see it!” Kaliam said. “Some excavation! We’ll land there!” As the dragons floated to a stop, they saw more clearly the large rectangular cut into the rocky terrain. They dismounted and came to the edge and looked down. Stairs were cut into the rock and led steeply down beneath the surface.

  “I will go,” Aelic said.

  Kaliam looked back to Pennath Ruin. It continued to vomit a fiery stream of orange into the valley. “No! The lava is too close!” Kaliam said.

  “We have to know!” Aelic said, and he leaped down the stairs. He disappeared from sight, and Kaliam waited. He waited for what seemed an eternity, and then he felt a rumble beneath his feet. He looked up at Pennath Ruin, but it was engulfed in a billowing cloud of ash. He felt a surge of hot air, fell to his knees, and coughed violently. Aidan’s dragon screeched, then raced away. Kaliam grabbed the reins of his own dragon just in time. He looked up at the lava flow. It was only twenty yards away.

  “Aelic!” Kaliam screamed down the stairs. “Aelic, you must come now! Aelic, the lava is nearly here!”

  And then he saw Aelic’s hand grasping out of the darkness for the bottom steps. The lava crept slowly over the edge and began to trickle down the first step. Kaliam went to the opposite side and reached down. “Aelic!” he screamed. “Grab my hand!” But it was no use. Aelic was too far down the steps—he could not reach him! Kaliam looked desperately about. Then he had an idea. He leaped on his dragon and snapped the reins. He brought the creature to hover so that its tail hung down into the opening. Kaliam leaned over, craning his neck to see. Aelic’s hand was no longer moving. The lava descended another step.

  “Aelic, wake up!” Kaliam yelled. “Grab the beast’s tail!”

  But Aelic did not stir. The lava surged down another step. Then another. Kaliam watched helplessly as the lava edged forward. He knew he must do something or it would become Aelic’s tomb as well.

  “ON YOUR FEET, THOU LUMPISH, TARDY-GAITED CANKER-BLOSSOM!!!” Kaliam yelled in his best imitation of Captain Valithor.

  Suddenly, Aelic’s hand stirred. And there he was, standing in the orange light cast by the lava.

  “DON’T JUST STAND THERE, YOU EARTH-VEXING CLOT POLE! GRAB THE BEAST’S TAIL!!”

  Aelic’s hand shot out and clutched the dragon’s tail. Kaliam snapped the reins. The dragon lifted off, and Aelic flew out of the opening just as the molten rock reached the bottom step. The ground fell away, and the dragon swung Aelic up onto its back behind Kaliam.

  “You really are starting to sound like . . . my grandfather,” Aelic said, hacking and coughing. Kaliam grinned over his shoulder at Aelic.

  “Well, it got you moving!” Kaliam laughed. “Could you see in the tomb?”

 
Aelic turned to Kaliam. “Yes, the tomb is empty!”

  Kaliam sat suddenly rigid. “Then it is as we feared, the Wyrm Lord has been set free.”

  39

  FLIGHT TO CLARION

  Kaliam, Aelic! The King be praised! You made it!” Lady Merewen cried, practically dragging them both from the saddle. “When Aelic’s dragon came back wounded and riderless . . . we feared the worst.”

  Aelic’s knees buckled and he almost fell, but Farix was there. “Got you, lad,” he said as he helped Aelic over to a seat on a nearby boulder.

  “You cut it a little close for comfort,” Farix said. “What did you find?”

  “We are too late,” Kaliam whispered. The Glimpses stood as if in shock. Pennath Ruin rumbled ominously in the distance.

  Aelic stood slowly and leaned against the boulder. The air was still acrid to him, and he continued to cough as he spoke. “A steep stairway was cut down into the stone at the bottom of the basin. It seemed ancient, and I felt as if I were stepping backward in time as I descended. It was dark at first, but when my eyes adjusted to the half-light, I saw the remnants of an enormous door of stone. It had been ripped free from its hinges, and it lay in shards on the ground. There was a vast chamber beyond. The moment I entered it, I was overwhelmed by something. There was a smell . . . a stench, foul beyond the words I have to describe it, but it was not that. Within that chamber was a presence, a dark and brooding hatred that clamped down upon my heart. I could feel it willing me to die, and I almost succumbed to it. As I turned to lunge free of the chamber, I saw upon the walls within, upon the frame of the door, and finally upon the stairs—long gouges. I am convinced they were scratched into the stone by the talons of the Wyrm Lord.”

  No one spoke. It seemed that fear and menace permeated the air like the swirling ash from the volcano.

  “I feared it would be so,” Farix said finally. “From the moment we entered this desolate land, I sensed something too.”

  Oswyn came up and handed a full skin to Aelic. “Drink some of this, Aelic. It is Golden Tear. Queen Illaria gave it to me, for I wanted to know what gives it its recuperative powers. I deem you need it now.”

  Aelic took a long drink, swallowed, and seemed to stand a little straighter.

  “We have not been idle while you were away!” Sir Oswyn said to Kaliam. The Acacian riders gathered round. “It is more confirmation than news, I deem. We found a trail, well trodden by many soldiers and creased with ruts from heavy wheels.”

  “Paragor’s legions,” Kaliam said absently.

  “They are not more than a day old,” said Sir Oswyn.

  “We followed the trail to the outskirts of the Shattered Lands,” said Farix.

  “Where do they lead?” Aelic asked.

  Oswyn stared at the ground and said, “They lead due south . . . to Clarion.”

  Kaliam walked over to Aelic’s dragon steed and shook his head. “The bone is not broken, but she will not be able to manage the pace we need to set. Aelic, you shall have to ride with me.”

  Aelic drew near and saw the singed flesh and the gaping tear in the webbing of the dragon’s left wing. He patted the creature on its knobby brow and looked questioningly back to Kaliam.

  “Fear not. She will survive,” Kaliam replied to Aelic’s unspoken question. “With that wing, she will need to leisurely make her way back to her roost in Acacia. She will be far safer there than where we are going.”

  The riders pushed their steeds to labor past exhaustion. On they flew, driven by fear. Fear of failure. Fear of the unknown power of the evil that had been unleashed. Fear of what they might find in Clarion. The sun rose red in the hazy eastern sky, but it was soon devoured by a curtain of smoldering dark clouds.

  “Why would the enemy go to Clarion?” Aelic asked, shouting to be heard over the swoosh of the dragon’s wings.

  “Clarion was ever sought by Paragor from long ago,” Kaliam said. “It is a beautiful white city, hewn from rich granite and marble. The Glimpses there do not delve like Mallik’s folk, but they are artists: shapers, sculptors, and engravers. The bright walls, fitted cunningly around the city, do not seem meant for military use. For in every panel there is carved an intricate design. But do not be fooled! Those walls are as strong as the bones of a mountain, and there is some hope in that!

  “A round castle with many tall towers sits on a hill within the ramparts, and there are great halls as well, supported by long columns! It was an old Clarion master craftsman named Halberad who carved the throne on which King Eliam now sits.

  “Paragor requested such a throne for himself. Offers of gold and priceless riches he made, but he was rebuffed. Alvisbrand was king in Clarion of old, and he was as true a friend to Alleble as The Realm has ever seen. His son, Alvisbrand the Younger, will not listen to Paragor’s entreaties either. Not only has Clarion turned away Paragor’s many offers of alliance, but they refuse even to trade with them.

  “The most direct course for the enemy to take back to his dark realm would bypass Clarion altogether. I fear for Clarion, for there can be only one reason why Paragor would choose that direction: revenge.”

  Suddenly, Kaliam straightened in his saddle. “Loose Fury from that sheath, Sir Aelic,” he said. “There is smoke on the horizon. Clarion is burning.”

  The dragon riders came upon a scene of utter destruction. The white walls of Clarion were thrown down. Many of the great buildings had been collapsed, their columns of strong stone snapped like young trees. Smoke from smoldering cottages curled in dark tendrils into the gray sky.

  “The walls of Clarion were mighty and they had two legions of spearmen to defend them!” Oswyn cried as they dismounted and entered the city. “They should have been able to resist Paragor longer than this!”

  “Do you see those stones?” Lady Merewen said, pointing to a ruined turret. “They are not just broken—they . . . they are melted! What sort of fire can melt cold stone?”

  Kaliam drew his broadsword and said, “It is the dragonfire of the firstborn Wyrm in all The Realm. I fear Clarion could have boasted ten thousand spearmen, and yet the result would have been the same.”

  Aelic quickly surveyed the wreckage and turned to Kaliam. “Sir, where are the Glimpses?”

  Kaliam looked sadly down at Aelic. “I do not believe there are any survivors.”

  “No, I mean, where are the bodies?” Aelic said, shaking his head.

  Kaliam, Oswyn, Farix, Lady Merewen, and all the riders from Acacia looked hopelessly about. “The ground ought to be littered with the dead!” Farix said. “And yet there are none!”

  “Could Paragor have taken them all prisoner?” Aelic asked.

  “In the face of the Wyrm Lord, could they have all surrendered?” asked Lady Merewen.

  Kaliam shook his head. “If I know Alvisbrand, he would not surrender,” he said, concerned. “And the folk of Clarion would have fought to the last, but where are they?”

  The riders dismounted their dragons and spread out into the wreckage. It was grim work, searching through the rubble and charred wood. They feared the death they would find, but feared worse to find none at all.

  At last, Farix reported back that he had found two knights crushed under fallen columns in a collapsed building. Oswyn made similar discoveries. Everyone but Lady Merewen had returned to the front gate, but after all the searching, the count was only twelve dead.

  “Help!” Lady Merewen cried out from atop the roof of a fallen cottage. The others sprinted to her aid, and there on the other side of the roof was their friend Tal, his legs tangled in wreckage. “He is alive!” Lady Merewen said.

  Oswyn and Kaliam knelt at the fallen knight’s side. “Tal!” Kaliam cried. “Brother in arms! Praise to King Eliam, we have found you!” Then he saw the wound in Tal’s side, and he gasped. With pleading eyes, he looked to Oswyn, but their herb-meister shook his head. He had no salve or medicine for such a mortal wound.

  Tal’s head turned toward his friends. His eyes blinked open a
nd slowly focused. Tal’s voice was thin and dry. “Kaliam, you are here—and you, Aelic.”

  Kaliam took out a waterskin and poured some over Tal’s cracked lips. “Thank you, Captain,” Tal said, his eyes roaming. “But where is Matthias?”

  “Matthias?” Aelic echoed.

  Farix leaned close to Aelic and whispered, “He calls for his old friend who fell in Mithegard. Alas, Tal is fading—” Kaliam held up a hand, and Farix went silent.

  “I have not seen Matthias,” said Kaliam, brushing aside locks of hair from Tal’s face.

  “Pity,” Tal said. “I wanted to show him the notches in my blade!”

  Kaliam looked about and saw Tal’s sword. And though it was forged from murynstil, Alleble’s strongest metal, the blade lay broken in three pieces a few feet away. “We have seen your sword,” Kaliam said. “You fought bravely, Knight of Alleble.”

  “Not bravely enough,” Tal said quietly. His eyes started to close.

  “What happened here?” asked Kaliam.

  Tal’s body shook. He coughed and took in a breath. “They came in the night,” Tal said. “Paragor himself led them to the gates of Clarion. But there was an unseen malice behind him, and the spearmen in the frontguard fled their posts. Only Alvisbrand stood on the battlement and defied the dark Prince.

  “Paragor uttered one word, ‘Surrender,’ and that was all. Alvisbrand drew his sword, but before his refusal had even left his lips . . . something took him. A great carriage opened behind Paragor, and darkness took wing!” Tal looked up, terrified, as if he saw something in the sky.

  “Tal, what did you see?” Kaliam asked.

  “No,” he cried. “It is not possible! It was blacker than the night sky and had vast wings like a dragon’s. It was more swift than thought, and it leaped from the carriage to the battlement. And Alvisbrand . . . he was slain so quickly that he had not the time to cry out. It was as if he had never been at all.