Wayne Batson - The Final Storm

“Heavier than that?” Kaliam asked. “That is a claymore!”

Robby smiled apologetically. “I like the length,” he said. “But it just doesn’t seem like it’ll pack the punch I’m used to.”

“What is wrong with the sword?” came a gruff voice from behind the fence, and presently Kindle, the armory keeper, and Lady Merewen appeared.

“The lad has a claymore,” Kaliam replied. “And he says it is not heavy enough for him.”

“Really?” Kindle whistled. “You must be a mighty lad to wield a heavier weapon than that.”

“M’lord,” Lady Merewen said, “why not let Robby try your sword? It should be heavy enough.”

“It would indeed!” Kindle hacked a laugh. “Last time I tried to handle that, I thought my shoulders would pop from their sockets!”

Reluctantly, Kaliam drew his grand broadsword. He presented it to Robby grip-first and said, “If it is too heavy for you, I will search the other barrels in the yard. I am sure we can find-”

“No, this is great!” Robby said, and he turned and whipped Kaliam’s blade toward the fence, stopping within an inch of striking it. “I like this, Sir Kaliam!”

“Yes, I see,” muttered the Sentinel. Lady Merewen stifled a laugh, and she and Kindle left the ring, choosing to watch from the safer side of the fence.

Still grumbling, Kaliam chose the claymore and moved to the opposite side of the ring. “Stand you ready?” Kaliam asked.

“I guess so,” Robby replied.

The word “Begin!” was barely out of Kaliam’s mouth when Robby bolted toward him. He slammed a high stroke against Kaliam’s claymore, so hard that the sound made both combatants’ ears ring. But with their blades locked at eye level, Robby shoved with all his might and Kaliam lost his balance. He stumbled backward, and when he looked up, he found the tip of his own broadsword level with his throat. Lady Merewen and Kindle were speechless.

“You cannot fight like that,” Kaliam protested. “A knight with a lighter blade would cut you to ribbons!”

Robby considered Kaliam’s point. “I guess he could try,” Robby replied.

Kaliam gestured and Robby returned to his spot. “Again!” Kaliam yelled.

And again Robby bull-rushed. This time Kaliam was ready. He absorbed Robby’s first blow and used it to spin around. The next thing Robby knew, Kaliam had the claymore suspended three inches from the back of Robby’s neck. “That was cool!” Robby said. “Can you teach me that?”

Kaliam smiled, pleased to have evened the score in front of his bride-to-be. “There is much I can teach you,” Kaliam said. “In time. Let us tilt again!”

On the third duel Kaliam rushed out to meet Robby’s charge, and their blades met with a tremendous crash. Kaliam tried to roll off the blow and spin like before, but Robby ducked it and slapped away Kaliam’s attack. Their weapons struck again and again, long, sweeping, heavy blows-always followed by grunts from the two fighters. Sweat poured off of them both and the straining muscles of each glistened.

Kaliam began at last to wear Robby down. He backed him into a corner, but Robby did something Kaliam did not expect. He turned the broadsword so that when he struck again, it would not be with the sharp blade, but rather the full flat of the blade. Robby chopped down with all his might on Kaliam’s claymore near the hilt. The force of the blow was such that it knocked the blade from Kaliam’s hand. Robby thought he had won, but before he could deliver the final shot, Kaliam grabbed the claymore and in one motion rolled and brought the blade point to Robby’s back.

“Uh, okay, I give!” Robby said.

Kaliam lowered the sword. “How did I beat you?” he asked.

“I didn’t think someone as big as you could move that fast,” Robby replied, shaking his head.

“Most cannot,” Kaliam said. “Still, you acquitted yourself well with my broadsword. I will see if something like it can be found for you to use more permanently.”

“You mean I passed the test?” Robby asked. “I’m a knight now?”

“You have more than enough skill with a sword to be a knight,” Kaliam said. “But there is more to it than that. Go now with Kindle. He will take you to Guard’s Keep for the midday meal. Afterward, we will meet again, and I will show you your chores.” He winked at Lady Merewen. “One of them in particular was Aidan’s favorite!”

“Well?” Lady Merewen asked after Kindle and Robby left the train-ing compound.

“Robby has no classical technique,” Kaliam replied, absently massaging his forearms. “But what he lacks in style, he makes up for in brutality! He is reckless, almost maniacal with that broadsword. Why, his initial charge is an onslaught of one person! I would gladly have him guarding the walls of our city, and I pity any enemy knight who scales a ladder only to meet Robby and his heavy blade.”

“Why do you still have hesitation in your manner, m’lord?” Lady Merewen asked.

“I wish I knew… for certain,” Kaliam replied, staring into the skies to the north.

“Is there something you guess, then?”

“Tonight, after Robby’s Confession Ceremony, I need to speak to him and ask him a question. Then I will have some wisdom and not just a hunch.”

“You speak in riddles, m’lord,” Lady Merewen said.

He turned to face her and said, “Perhaps it is one of many things I have learned from our King.”

She laughed but then pointed over Kaliam’s shoulder. “Kaliam, look!”

And there in the skies to the north were hundreds of gray winged shapes. A horn call came on the wind, and it was answered as the trumpets of the city rang out.

Kaliam sighed with great relief. “The dragon riders have returned!”

T his is grievous news!” exclaimed Kaliam. He banged his fist on the table, startling all those assembled in Guard’s Keep. “Mallik, is there nothing your resourceful folk can do?”

Mallik’s coppery brow was knotted in anger. He wore a sneer of distaste as he spoke. “Paragor’s attack was more precise than we ever could have imagined. Some of our cutting tools were spared, but every last one of our wind-carriages was burned to cinders! We are resourceful, yes, but we cannot carve walls without tools-nor trans-port stone without carriages!”

“In spite of our careful planning,” said King Ravelle, “the enemy then stays one step ahead!”

“So it would seem,” Kaliam replied. Lady Merewen’s light touch on his forearm calmed him enough to sit down.

“The gray walls of Alleble are yet proud and sturdy,” said Queen Illaria. “Can they not buffet Paragor’s attack?”

Farix answered, “If all the enemy brought to bear on us was his catapults and his fiery projectiles… then yes, the walls of Alleble would stand. But the Wyrm Lord’s fire is a weapon beyond the strength of normal stone. He would open breaches in our defenses and allow Paragor’s foot soldiers to invade.”

“And that is our chief fear,” explained Kaliam. “Paragor may try to drop his forces behind our walls with his dragon carriages, but our own dragons and archers will limit their effect. But if he is able to break through the walls, we are then forced to abandon our plan of attack to plug holes in our defense!”

“What then is to be done?” Lord Sternhilt asked.

“What indeed?” echoed Kaliam, and he shook his head. “For the Wyrm Lord was a mere shadow of his former strength-shriv-eled and weak from his captivity-when Clarion fell to him like kin-dling. Now that he has been nursed to health in the bastions of Paragory, his fire will burn all the hotter. And who can say what powers the firstborn dragon will wield when his strength waxes?”