Otherlander: Through the Storm

by T. Kevin Bryan

  “That could be suicide,” Collin whispered.

  The general looked at the young rider. “I am well aware of that, but if we wait till morning, we will be surrounded and they will starve us out. The impenetrable nature of our mountain stronghold is its greatest strength, but also its greatest weakness.”

  John agreed. He didn’t like to admit it, but knew it to be true.

  Deacon continued: “Thomas gave us an advantage. We know they are coming.” He gave a wry grin. “Now, we beat them at their own game. They have lost the element of surprise. But we haven’t. We attack now. Surprise is our best strategy. And if the Creator is with us, we may turn the tide.”

  The riders all nodded.

  “John, take your rangers. You go ahead of the attack and clear the way of all sentries. They must not be allowed to sound the alarm. We will follow you through the canyons and finally crest the ridge of the Jagged Mountains at the last moment and fall upon our enemy.”

  Deacon stood, and the war room stood with him.

  He surveyed the room. Each man a hardened warrior. Each man a loyal friend. They were Fathers and sons, craftsmen and farmers.

  “Brothers, we take flight tonight for what could be our last battle. The freedom of our land and the love of our wives and children demand that we must fight again. The Creator has called us to be faithful. The Creator has made us to be free. I call you today to be fearless. May your arrows fly straight, may your swords swing true, and may your dragons be savage. Tonight, we fly. Tonight, we fight.”

  He held their gaze and lifted a gloved fist. “For the Kingdom!”

  The men as one lifted their fists and echoed their leader. “For the Kingdom!”

  Seventy-Five

  Fion’s eyes narrowed as she studied the man in the travel-stained cloak, then suddenly she saw the resemblance. The tilt of his head, the blue eyes, the furrowed brow. She was looking at Thomas, or at least what he would look like in a few decades. Fion’s eyes went wide in shock. “You are the great man of learning. Daniel Colson, father of the Otherlander,” she whispered.

  The man nodded and gave a slight smile.

  Fion curtsied again. “Sir, I am honored to meet you.”

  Daniel spoke. “Fion, you said your name was Fion, right? Please, where is Thomas?”

  Fion’s head dropped. “I don’t know.” She thought for a moment and Daniel could see her countenance change. Her shoulders straightened and she lifted her chin full of confidence. Her emerald eyes sparkled. “But I know he is alive, and he is coming for us.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I just know it in my heart. Search yours,” she pleaded. “You know it too, do you not?”

  Daniel paused as images of his son flashed through his mind, like framed photographs along a wall of memories: An archeological dig in Israel, playing in the front yard of their house in California, their flight to England, his son hugging his mother on their last Christmas morning.

  He had to agree he felt it too. “Yes, he is alive. I know it as well.”

  Daniel motioned to the ground. “Please, let’s sit. You and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Daniel began querying the curly red-headed girl with the emerald eyes who reminded him so much of her mother. He started with the stormy night of Thomas’s disappearance.

  Fion explained about her conviction to bring the Otherlander back to her world. The Creator blessed her to arrive and rescue Thomas before Darcon’s assassin, the shadow hunter, could kill him.

  Daniel shook his head at the mentioning of his old professor from Earth. He felt the sting of guilt again at having thrust his family into these dangers. And he marveled that all this had occurred over the last 14 years in N’albion time.

  A winged beast screeched somewhere in the night. Daniel glanced up. The moon was above them and shone through the iron bars of the trapdoor.

  By now, most of the prisoners huddled together on the floor attempting to sleep. Here and there a snore or a whimper reached them.

  Daniel continued whispering his tale to Fion. He had come through the door and immediately taken up the search for Thomas. He found the wanted poster in the tavern and continued his pursuit, but always too late to catch them. He followed their trail into the forbidden lands. There in those icy mountains he had seen their cave and found the chain to Thomas’s pendant. Then he was captured by the snow-beast.

  Fion gasped. “The Snect-beathac, aren’t they just fantastic?”

  Daniel arched his eyebrow. “Yes, after the initial terror of being torn limb from limb and being eaten alive.”

  “How did you get away?”

  “I told them of my search for my son, Thomas, and a red-headed girl.”

  Fion smiled.

  “They took some convincing but finally I persuaded them I was the father of the boy they call, Tomar. Once they understood I was Thomas’s Father they gave me supplies and sent me on my way. It seems you made some friends there. Especially, the big one with the scar across his face.”

  Fion sighed, remembering her huge furry friend. “Good, old Scar.” She yawned, then shivered like a frail leaf struck by a strong wind.

  Daniel considered the girl for a moment. It was late and cold. He pulled off his cloak and wrapped it around her like a father tucking in a child. “We better get some sleep while we can.” Daniel laid back and settled in. “Tomorrow we figure out how to get out of this hole.”

  Seventy-Six

  Darcon wasn’t sleeping. These nights he never slept. Sleep was only a door to his dreams. And increasingly he was being hunted in those dreams by the boy from his old world, Thomas, the Otherlander. Outside his bedchamber, there was a commotion.

  The flap to Darcon’s tent drew back and a guard immediately grasped the hilt of his sword.

  The man there whispered some hurried words to the guard who stepped to his master’s bed chamber. “My Lord, there is something I think you should see.”

  Darcon pulled up his hood as he followed the man through muddy camp.

  Everywhere men averted their gaze, for they knew what happened to those who peered too long at their ruler’s infirmity.

  Finally, they came to the iron bars fixed in the ground that covered the prisoner’s pit.

  The man who stood there rocked on his heels, frozen in fear, unsure of how to proceed.

  Losing his patience, Darcon gripped the man by the throat and whipped out a dagger from his robes.

  “What is it, man? Speak quickly before I gut you like a pig.”

  With trembling hands, the man withdrew a soiled wanted poster, unfolded it and pointed to the crude picture of Fion, then at the hole before them.

  Darcon smiled. “Open it!” He ordered.

  A ladder dropped into the hole and guards climbed down. The prisoners all stood defiantly as the guards pushed their way through them. It wasn’t hard to find their prize. Fion’s red hair shone brilliantly in the moonlight.

  The guards grabbed Fion and shoved her toward the ladder.

  “Hold it!” Daniel Colson spoke from the shadows. “She’s not going anywhere without me.”

  Darcon peered into the hole at the sound of that voice, so unlike the accents of N’albion.

  The man below stepped into the moonlight and gazed up the ladder, pushing back his hood.

  Darcon stumbled back in shock. “Dr. Daniel Colson,” he whispered struggling to regain his composure. “Bring them both!”

  Sword points prodded Fion and Daniel up the ladder.

  Fion climbed hand over hand into the light. With each rung, in spite of her dire situation hope was strengthened deep inside her. Something was about to happen, she knew it.

  Seventy-Seven

  Thomas reined Runt in as they came to the dead end of the canyon. The dragon slowed to a hover as they approached the crest of the Jagged Mountains. Thomas knew that over this ridge lay Darcon’s army. He had no idea how he was going to rescue Fion. He was in the hands of the Creator. Not a bad pla
ce to be. His father once told him the safest place to be was right in middle of God’s will. He hoped that was where he was now.

  “Slowly, Runt, take us up very slowly. I just want to peek over the top.”

  The little dragon complied perfectly and like a little pale hummingbird he ascended along the rock wall to allow Thomas to peer over the ridge. His heart dropped at what he saw. The plain was now filled with the campfires of Darcon’s army.

  He could see shadow warrior beasts here and there but it seemed that the army was made up mostly of humans. Weird. Where was the shadow warrior army? He couldn’t worry about that now. He had to find Fion. She must be down there somewhere.

  Thomas leaned in and stroked Runt’s smooth scaled neck.

  “Runt can you find Fion?”

  The little dragon growled his affirmation.

  A shadow sentry perched high on an outcropping above peered down at some movement that caught his attention—A boy on a pale dragon.

  “What’s this?” It hissed.

  He drew his sword from its scabbard. But before he could spur his beast into pursuit an arrow whizzed through the night and sunk into his chest and he toppled from his saddle into the canyon.

  On the other side of the ridge another arrow took out another sentry. Then, another.

  John peered from behind a boulder and recognized Thomas on his pale dragon along the Ridge. “Fool boy.” Thomas was blissfully ignorant to the shadow warrior sentries that were being dispatched by the rangers.

  John nodded to his Rangers as they continued taking out sentries. He knew Deacon and the rest of the resistance was coming soon. His general had given them only moments to take out the sentries on the outer periphery. John considered shouting to Thomas but he was too far and besides that the sound would echo through the canyon. Thomas was on his own for now, the Creator be with him.

  Astride the little pale dragon with the whole of Darcon’s army spread before him, Thomas’s heart pounded like a drum. He swallowed down a lump in his throat and his breath came in quick shallow gulps. “It may be that we fly to our deaths, boy.” Runt growled and turned his triangular head and his blue eye glinted in the night, focusing on his boy master. He growled again as if to say he understood.

  “Oh well, here we go,” said Thomas. “On, Runt.” And he nudged Runt over the ridge.

  Thomas shouted, “For the Kingdom!”

  Runt soared down the slope and gave his mighty squeal! Thomas leaned hard in the saddle trusting that his dragon knew where to find Fion.

  The valley floor came to life in a panic. Men scrambled for their weapons and battle horns sounded.

  Chaos reigned and Thomas was impressed with how much fear he and his little dragon inspired.

  Thomas thrust his sword into the sky encouraged by the fear that he instilled and shouted again, “For the Kingdom!”

  But this time he was shocked as hundreds of warriors behind him echoed his battle cry. “For the Kingdom!” And that was followed by the roar of dragons and the thundering of wings.

  Seventy-Eight

  Fion and Daniel stood stiffly facing Darcon flanked by the two spear wielding guards.

  Darcon smiled under his hood rather like a Picasso painting. It had a disconcerting effect as only half his mouth responded due to his scarring. “I would say, we meet again Dr. Colson, but it sounds so cliche.”

  Daniel Colson leveled his gaze on his old nemesis. “Where’s my son, Professor Darcy?”

  “Funny, that.” Darcon smirked. “That is precisely what I was going to ask you.”

  Fion lifted her eyes to the heavens and whispered a prayer. There, high above the horizon she could see the constellation known as the warrior. It was the constellation that must be positioned in the sky to open the door to the otherworld. His bow stretched and his arrow knocked. Strange. It seemed that she was seeing things. It looked like the arrow was flying from the bow in slow motion. She was tired. It was at least the 3rd watch of the night and she had barely slept. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. Something was still coming small and white like a comet. Then her eyes focused and she saw and she knew. There, with the moonlight glinting off his pale wings, Runt streaked toward them with Thomas in the saddle waving his sword and behind him hundreds of Resistance riders on their dragons.

  Fion smiled. “I knew he would come.”

  Runt streaked through the sky his trajectory fixed to a point on the ground. Then somewhere over the chaos Thomas heard the sweetest sound. Fion’s voice rang out. “Thomas, we are here!”

  Thomas searched the ground below them. Yes! There, standing among a group of men with face uplifted was Fion. She was alive. There was still hope.

  Behind Thomas the resistance riders upon their dragons spilled down the ridge and crashed into the army encampment upon the valley floor. Men rushed from their tents, hearing the battle horns and the roar of the dragons and the clashing of steel. Their plan was turned upon themselves. Striking when men were in their deepest sleep awakened by the sounds of war, confusion reigned. Here and there the enemy attempted to defend themselves. Arrows were launched and javelins were thrown. The resistance lost both men and dragon but nothing compared to the desolation that was being wrought upon their enemy. Darcon’s forces scattered.

  Deacon scanned the battlefield. Streaking down from the sky ahead of him he saw Thomas on his pale dragon, Runt. He followed the dragon’s logical trajectory and there stood the unmistakable figure of his daughter with her red hair blowing in the wind.

  He took one last look across the battlefield. His men had the upper-hand in battle. He was going after his daughter.

  “On, Thorn.”

  Thorn roared, folded his wings and dove.

  They were almost there when a lightning bolt arced through the sky followed by the explosion of thunder. That was close. Deacon could feel the electricity in the air. It made his skin prickle as the static surged through his clothing, making it pop and snap.

  Boiling dark clouds rolled out of nowhere, covering the moon and the stars. And materializing out of those ominous clouds rode the shadow warriors, led by Captain Necron.

  Deacon’s head swiveled between his daughter on the ground and the eminent onslaught of the shadow warriors pouring out of the clouds. He was torn. He saw Thomas was almost to her. And so, saying a quick prayer he reined Thorn and rode to meet his dark nemesis.

  “To me! To me!” Deacon shouted, rallying his dragon mounted calvary. One by one the men fell in behind their general forming a living flying ferocious triangle.

  Captain Necron watched as Deacon and his army of Dragons surged toward his force of shadow warriors. “Too long have I put up with this stinking human hoard,” he hissed. Lifting his sword, he ordered the charge.

  The forces met in the sky with a horrible clashing cacophony of steel and bone and tearing flesh and cries of pain and above all this the terrible shriek of the beasts and roar of the dragons.

  Seventy-Nine

  Fion watched as Thomas on Runt swooped down toward her.

  “Stop them!” Darcon shouted. “It’s him, the Otherlander!” The tyrant’s voice cracked with fear as the boy of his nightmares filled his vision.

  Daniel Colson’s heart almost burst at the sight of his son. The guards threw their spears. But Runt flitted out of the way.

  “That was close,” Thomas said as he watched the spears whizz by. Runt flew in too fast and not being a trained war dragon overcorrected and slammed to the ground, sending up a cloud of sod and dirt. Thomas flew from the saddle and rolled several times.

  Daniel watched as his son lost control of the pale dragon and careened toward them. He caught his son’s eyes and time stopped as recognition flooded into Thomas’s mind.

  “Look out!” Daniel shouted to Fion, who stood frozen. He shoved the girl and leapt out of the way as the dragon slammed into the ground, crushing the two guards.

  Thomas shook his head and looked to Runt, whose sides were heaving. He was unconscious, b
ut alive. A twisted glove here and a leg there protruded from under his scaled body.

  “Fion.” Then the last thing he saw before he hit the ground popped into his head. “Dad!”

  Thomas looked, and boots stood before him. He jumped to his feet, steadying himself from the vertigo.

  Darcon stood before him with a fist full of Fion’s hair and his curved blade to her throat.

  Daniel Colson hovered by arms outstretched, warily watching Darcon.

  “Dad, you came for me,” Thomas said.

  “Of course,” nodded his father. “You are my son.” Thomas weighed the decision before him. Fion had come for him. She had rescued him when he would have been killed by the shadow hunter. They had seen much together and now she was his friend and he would not let her be taken away. He would give his life for her if needed. Thomas made his decision and spoke to his father.

  “I love you, Dad. Tell Mom I love her and tell Aiden about me.”

  Daniel thought how his son’s voice had deepened; he sounded so mature.

  “Son, no, we’ll get out of this.”

  Thomas turned from his dad to Darcon, still clutching Fion.

  “Let her go. You want me, right?” Thomas raised his hands in a posture of surrender. “You’ve been hunting for The Otherlander. You sent your shadow assassin, you put your bounty on me and the shadow warriors have dogged me across this land. Well, here I am. Do with me as you will.”

  Fion watched in awe as her friend offered himself for her. A single tear slid down her cheek.

  Darcon’s eye darted between Daniel and his son. This was the one who tormented his nights for the last 14 years. The one who kept thwarting his ultimate power. The one whose very existence kept hope alive in this world.