The Final Storm (11 page)
Robby’s mouth hung agape and he moved ever so slightly away from Count Eogan. “Do not believe this rubbish, Robby,” Count Eogan said. “This is more of King Eliam’s sorcery at work. Aidan, you do not know of what you speak. Valithor was the King’s closest ally. Why would you even consider trusting his story?”
“Captain Valithor was the Glimpse of my grandfather,” Aidan said, advancing another step. “But even if I did not have a trusted firsthand account of the events of that evening, even then I could expose you for the liar you are.”
“I will not stand for this insolence,” Count Eogan barked, and he drew a jagged blade from his sheath. “Aidan, you have clearly chosen your path in life. For this, I pity you!”
Aidan eyed the count’s sword and took a step back, but he would not be silent. “You have called King Eliam, his greatest servants, and my grandfather evil. And you have put Paragor upon a white pedestal and made him into some noble hero. Robby, listen to me, and Count Eogan, refute me if you can: If your master is so good and noble, his deeds would match, wouldn’t they?
“I saw Paragor’s armies unleash a deadly attack on Mithegard, a kingdom that had done nothing to provoke warfare. I watched his forces rain poison-tipped arrows down on innocent Glimpse men, women, and children as they sought shelter from the skies. I watched as Lord Rucifel ordered his knights to plunder that city and then burn it to the ground.”
“Robby, this upstart is more bewitched than I feared. There will be no turning him. Aidan is the enemy, and he must be . . . dealt with.”
Count Eogan let his cape fall to the ground and strode forward. He raised his blade and whispered something in a language Aidan had never heard. Suddenly, the count’s sword burst into flame and he slashed it at Aidan’s right side. Aidan dodged it easily and maintained his distance from his foe.
Robby stood near the fort. His eyes were restless and he seemed to debate within himself. “Stop,” he said quietly, but then yelled, “Stop! Don’t hurt him!”
“Nonsense, Robby,” the count replied, continuing to stalk Aidan. “You know the first
Principle of Power
: You have to take what you want! Your so-called friend stands in your way.”
The count slashed again, a short, measured attack at Aidan’s feet. Aidan leaped and then fell backward. Fire lingered briefly on his shoe and pant leg. Aidan stomped at it until it went out.
“Oh yes, young knight,” the count said, sneering. “The flames are hungry! Beware of them.” Count Eogan pushed the fiery tip of his sword into the boughs of a nearby pine. Instantly, gray smoke sifted out from the center of the tree. A few licks of fire poked out and began to climb. Fire quickly engulfed the trunk—spreading to the fort’s roof. Aidan scrambled backward and leaped to his feet, barely ducking a vicious swipe meant for his head.
“Stop now!” Robby yelled. He raised the sword Count Eogan had given him. But the count did not stop. He slashed the flaming sword blade at Aidan’s neck, missed, and sheared off a huge bough from one of the pines. Fire leaped to that tree as well. The clearing began to fill with smoke and the smell of burning pine.
Aidan ducked and dodged, always keeping the trees between himself and his attacker, but he was tiring. And the count’s swordcraft was strong. There was no way he could elude his strokes for much longer. The flaming blade swept again overhead and then crushed a stump near Aidan’s shoulder. Aidan stumbled, turned to run, but then found himself backed up against the burning fort. Count Eogan’s thin lips turned upward in a ghoulish smile. “Now,” he said, sneering, “you will burn for the offenses that you have brought against the master.”
From behind Aidan there came a strange sound. Several loud snaps as if from a bullwhip. A gust of wind washed over Aidan, and the flames on the count’s sword went out.
Aidan felt a strange pulling sensation envelop his body, like a strong undertow in the ocean. And then, Aidan’s skin began to tingle. It felt like something prickly was crawling down his forearms. Aidan stood very still, feeling the pulling and prickling all over his body. And when Aidan looked down at his arms and hands, they began to fade.
It’s happening! I’m being pulled to The Thread!
Count Eogan knew what was happening to Aidan, and he knew that he had just moments before Aidan would be gone. He drove his long blade straight for Aidan’s chest. But Robby swept through with his own broadsword and smashed Count Eogan’s blade with such force, and from such an unexpected angle, it wrenched free from his hands and slammed to the ground. The count looked at Robby with utter malice. He drew two daggers from his belt and came at Robby.
But Robby was too fast and too strong. He dropped to one knee and carved a two-handed stroke across Count Eogan’s midsection. The count stopped suddenly, dropped the daggers, and clutched his ruined stomach. Blood poured out between his pale fingers, and he fell to the dirt.
Robby cast his blade down and turned to Aidan. But Aidan was barely there. A strange, wavering version of Aidan’s voice said, “Robby, I knew you’d come through!”
Robby reached for his friend.
“Wait! Don’t touch me!” Aidan yelled urgently. “You’ll get shocked.”
Robby pulled back his hand. “Aidan, what’s happening to you?”
Aidan smiled. “I’m going back!”
“To The Realm?” Robby asked. “Now?” Aidan nodded yes.
“But Aidan, you can’t leave now!” Robby looked back at the prone form of Count Eogan and then down at his own hands. “Aidan, don’t go. I’m afraid.”
“I’m being drawn in!” Aidan said. “I . . . it’s not the same as the first time. I don’t think I could stop if I tried. But Robby, do you understand what I’ve been trying to tell you? Seek King Eliam! Seek him now, Robby!”
“I don’t know, Aidan,” Robby said miserably. “I . . . I can’t. The master promised me so many things. He brought my dad back. I don’t know!”
Aidan faded out almost entirely for a moment, and Robby could see the fire continuing to spread. It burned in several places, climbing up the pines, crawling hungrily from tree to tree. The smell of smoke was thick and hot in the air. The fires crackled and hissed. Then Aidan was there again. His lips moved, but at first Robby couldn’t tell what he was saying. “. . . your father,” Aidan said. “Rucifel. Robby!”
And suddenly, there was a blinding flash and a sharp crack of thunder. Robby fell backward and covered his eyes. When he looked up, Aidan was gone.
Hot air surged over Robby. He stood up. Robby knew if he didn’t go soon, he would never leave. “Where are you?!” Robby screamed, watching the flames dance among the pine trees. How had everything, once again, gone wrong? Tears streamed down his face as he whispered, “You said I’d never have to be afraid. You said you’d make me powerful.”
From somewhere overhead there came a tremendous crack, and a huge burning limb fell on top of the fort’s roof. Robby jolted, spun around, and finally recognized the danger. He started to run, but something made him look back. The plywood square that covered the fort’s entrance had fallen off. There, just barely visible, was Aidan’s backpack.
Robby ran to the fort, grabbed the backpack, and charged through the pines to safety.
THE THREAD
Aidan found himself standing upon a gray stone path that stretched away into forever in a vast sea of black. It was the connection between earth and The Realm, what Glimpses called The Thread.
Grampin was right,
Aidan thought, and he smiled.
I am going back to Alleble!
Even as he walked along the path, however, he was haunted by Gwenne’s voice:
“Be wary of all you meet—in this world and in mine. Not everyone is who they appear to be.”
Aidan quickened his pace as the black all around him began to flicker and images came into focus. An enormous castle appeared. Among its many turrets, keeps, and balconies rose a nine-tiered tower. There were two enormous twin mountains behind the castle. Aidan knew it well. It was the Castle of Alleble. But the view changed and zoomed in on the side of one of the mountains. From a dizzying height, a great shelf of stone had come loose. It began to slide down the mountainside toward the city. There was a great cloud of snow and debris. When it cleared, the vision had changed.
As if from above, Aidan saw two figures walking across a white wasteland. One of the figures began to run. The vision zoomed in on the other. And though there was a strange haze over all things, Aidan could see that the figure was a young woman with flaming red hair.
Antoinette!
She looked up as if in answer, but then a monstrous shadow rose behind her. She turned to face it, but then the vision changed.
Aidan saw a vast canopy of beautiful wide crimson leaves. Beneath the adorning leaves were huge black limbs and long trunks. And at the foot of the trees there traveled a band of knights in dark armor. The vision sped ahead to a new location. It was a clearing where a tree of surpassing greatness had been felled. The bulk of the tree lay charred, stretching out of sight. At the end of it was a vast stump. In the center of the stump there was a small hollow. And from this hollow a sapling grew. Speared by the limbs of the sapling was a scrap of parchment.
Aidan had seen this vision before. It seemed important, and the vision did not fade. It lingered so close to Aidan that he felt he could venture just a few steps from the path and touch it. But Aidan remembered what happened the first time he left the path. He had entered The Realm, but far from his intended destination. That mistake had caused him to endure a very dark adventure.
But something about this felt different. Aidan felt a strange gravity drawing him toward the scene. It was not the feeling of dread that had driven him from the path the first time. No, this felt more like the gentle urgings of an unseen father.
A rush of noise flooded to Aidan’s consciousness. It was like the conversations of great crowds of people, buzzing, loud, unintelligible. But then one voice rose out of the chaos, and the others were silenced. This voice was calm, assured, peaceful. A brightness like the light from a tunnel appeared on the path ahead. Aidan shielded his eyes. It was a being in brilliant white clothing, his countenance too intense to behold.
“Seek what is lost.”
“My King?” Aidan asked.
King Eliam nodded and reached out. Something lay in his out-stretched arms.
“Fury!” Aidan smiled and took his sword from the King.
“My servant, the time draws near. Seek what is lost. Go, now.”
Aidan looked at the scrap of parchment hanging on the end of the sapling. He looked down at The Thread. Aidan swallowed, tightened his grip on Fury, and then leaped from the path.
The vision parted like a curtain and Aidan fell into darkness.
W
hat size is the force that assails the Blue Mountains?” Kaliam asked Sir Brannock.
The young scout, turned and looked at all the somber faces of those seated at the table in Guard’s Keep: King Ravelle of Mithegard, Lord Sternhilt of Acacia, Queen Illaria of Yewland, as well as the heroes of Alleble: Farix, Nock, Lady Merewen, Thrivenbard, Rogan, and Mallik. And they all waited anxiously for Brannock’s answer, especially Mallik.
Sir Brannock swallowed and said, “Two legions were brought through the air, transported in great carriages dangling from the largest dragons I have ever seen. They arrived first. By the time I had to flee or perish, there were easily a full six legions more on the ground.”
“Eight legions?!” Mallik exclaimed. “That is twice what we faced in Yewland!”
“What of the Seven Sleepers and the Wyrm Lord?” Queen Illaria asked.
“They were not abroad,” Sir Brannock replied. “At least they were not when I fled.”
“Nay, they would not be unleashed this soon,” Kaliam replied. “This attack is a feint of the enemy. He wishes to measure our strength, to draw us out early.”
“A feint?” Mallik blurted out. “Eight legions is a feint?”
“Perhaps it is more,” King Ravelle said, and all eyes turned to him. “Certainly, the enemy wishes to know how we will respond, both in numbers and in tactics. But could it be that he has guessed our plans to fortify Alleble’s battlements with the hard blue granite from Ludgeon?”
“Then he goes to war in the Blue Mountains, not to cripple King Brower . . . ,” Mallik began.
“. . . but to cripple us,” Farix whispered.
“Even were this thrust of Paragor’s not aimed at weakening our defenses here,” Kaliam began, “we would go to King Brower’s aid. They are our allies of old. But how should we respond?”
Mallik pounded his fist on the table. “Swiftly!” he grunted. “With numbers far greater than the enemy’s!”
“But what if Kaliam is right?” Queen Illaria asked. “What if Paragor means only to draw us out away from Alleble, so that he can bring his full forces against a depleted city?”
“That may well be his plan,” said King Ravelle. “Paragory, now swollen with troops from Frostland, Inferness, and Candleforge, hordes a fighting force of at least ten times what he spends now in the Blue Mountains. If he brought that group, the Wyrm Lord, and the Sleepers to bear upon Alleble in our absence, it could go ill.”
“What of our scouts at the Cold River?” Farix asked.
“There has been no report of Paragor moving beyond that border,” Kaliam explained. “It would seem that his grand attack is yet many days away. Still, can we take such a chance?”
“Every choice made in war is a chance, Kaliam!” thundered the deep voice of Sir Rogan. Then he bowed and lowered his voice. “Forgive me, my Sentinel, it is just that King Brower and the Glimpses of Ludgeon wait for help. And yet, here we sit. We must act, or the fate that befell Mithegard will happen again.”
Kaliam turned to his right. “Farix, how many dragon riders have we gathered in Alleble to date?”
Farix calculated a moment while staring into one of the chamber’s torches. “Counting those brought today by Queen Illaria and the Braves of Yewland, we could muster ten legions airborne.”
“Good!” Sir Rogan nodded heartily. “Then I say we set forth to King Brower’s aid at once! Empty Alleble of every dragon rider ready for battle!”