Wayne Batson - The Final Storm

“I must return too. Shall we travel together?”

Antoinette knew the old Glimpse would slow her down, but she could not leave him for certain death. “Of course,” she said. “Ah, got it!” The door swung open and out walked the old Glimpse. He was gaunt and frail, and Antoinette wondered what Paragor would want with such a harmless prisoner.

“I am called Zabediel,” he said. “Though the young ones call me Zabed. I come from Balesparr, a village hidden deep in the heart of King’s Forest.”

“I am Antoinette,” she said. “Follow me.”

“Does thou know the way?” he asked.

“Uh, no,” she replied.

“Then perhaps thou should let me lead the way.” The old Glimpse brushed past her and ambled up the passage. The two of them made their way through the twisting passages and down several winding flights of stairs. At times, when the path forked or when the meandering path became disorienting, Zabed would stop for a few moments to think. “This tower grows up from the heart of Paragor’s main keep,” he said after turning back from a dead end. “A wrong turn could lead us to many places we would not wish to go.”

Great! thought Antoinette, but still she followed him.

Many turns and dead ends later, Antoinette’s pace slowed until finally, she stopped moving. Zabediel ambled on several yards before he realized she had stopped. “M’lady, Antoinette?” he questioned as he walked back to her. She did not answer.

“M’lady?” he said, staring with concern. “Are ye well?”

She mouthed, “What?” Then she blinked and focused on him.

“Are ye well?” Zabediel repeated. “Thou seemed entranced.”

“A storm is coming,” she said.

“A storm?” Zabed raised an eyebrow. “But we are deep in the mountain. Why does thou think so?”

“I… I don’t think… I know,” she replied. “Ever since I was little, I’ve just known that a storm was going to hit-before it happened. I’d get this strange sort of tingling, and ten, twenty minutes-even an hour later-sure enough, the storm would come.”

“And does thou feel this sensation now?” Zabed asked, staring at her anxiously.

Antoinette nodded slowly. “I’ve never felt it this strongly before,” she said. “It hit me so hard, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. It’s going to be a dreadful storm.”

Zabediel stared at her intensely for a few moments more, and then he turned and trotted up the passage. After some time, they came to a place where the path split three ways. The left and the right passages were well-lit and curled away from each other. The middle way led immediately to a long flight of stairs. Zabed looked back and forth and then led Antoinette down the stairs.

They found themselves immersed in the darkness of a very long, narrow hall. Its only torch burned at the far end, so it was very difficult to see. “I do not remember this,” muttered Zabediel.

Antoinette closed her eyes and exhaled. “Should we go back… try one of those other passages?”

“Nay,” Zabed replied curtly. “I know both of those other passages. One leads to the living quarters of three ranks of soldiers. The other leads down deep into the torture pits beneath this city. It would be perilous either way. This should be the right way, but it looks so strange.”

Antoinette wondered just how well his aged eyes could see, especially in the shadows. A gust of frigid air brushed by them. The torch flickered and waved suddenly as if it might go out. “Well, you’ve been right so-”

A crash of thunder struck. They both jumped. Antoinette and Zabed stared at each other, their hearts hammering.

“That was no ordinary thunder,” Zabediel said. “For it is no small thing to hear it from within this fortress. I fear thou were right about the storm.”

Antoinette nodded and was thoughtful. Just as they were about to set off again, Antoinette froze. She heard something, and it wasn’t wind or thunder. It was coming from the other side of the hall. Footsteps. It sounded like footsteps running on stairs.

“Zabed, get back!” Antoinette yelled. She pushed the old sage to a recessed part of the wall just before the stairwell. She leaned just slightly out so she could see. Standing at the end of the hall was a Paragor Knight. His black armor reflected the flickering torchlight, and even from this distance, Antoinette could see that he held a menacing sword.

“M’lady-”

“Shhh!” Antoinette warned. “There’s a guard coming.”

Aidan’s quest to find Antoinette had been reduced to a headache-provoking game of trial and error. There were a dizzying number of twists and turns. He’d already had to double back three or four times to take passages that he’d missed in the unreliable torchlight.

Aidan had passed many cells but found them all empty, and his heart began to despair. But each time, just when he had reached the end of his hope, he heard the voice of his King. “Seek what was lost.” And each time, Aidan found a new passage heading up.

He took a deep breath and raced up the stairs. At the top, he ducked under a wooden archway and found himself staring up a long, dark hall. He passed the only torch and immediately had the feeling that he was not alone. But Aidan was not going to turn back. Brandishing Fury, he stalked up the hall. In the shadows at the end of the hall, every one of Aidan’s senses was on alert.

The Paragor Knight crept closer. Antoinette waited until he was practically right in front of her, then she had no choice but to pounce. She brought the Daughter of Light down with great force, aiming for his head. But by some miraculous effort, the enemy blocked her first strike. Undaunted, she unleashed a flurry of strikes, using her kakari-geiko attack to keep the enemy on the defensive.

The warrior backpedaled with measured steps, maintaining his balance and searching for an opening. Antoinette tried to keep up the pressure, but her arms were getting tired. She sensed motion from behind her. Zabed! What is he doing out of our hiding spot?

Just that brief distraction, and the enemy loosed a savage, heavy blow that forced her sword downward. He tried to keep her sword near the floor, and Antoinette got the feeling that she was being set up. Instantly, she leaped backward, knocking Zabed back a few paces. She hoped he was okay, but at least the Paragor Knight hadn’t run her through!

The enemy grunted and pressed the attack. He had taken his sword in both hands and rained heavy strokes against her wearying defenses. She knew she was beaten. This was a superior foe.

And then it came-a thunderous blow that slammed the Daughter of Light to the ground. Even though she knew the enemy’s attack, his strength was too great and she had no place to leap away again. She could feel him holding her blade to the ground while drawing his sword back for the big thrust. And suddenly, like the shock of a fire alarm going off, a word appeared in her thoughts: moulinet.

“Aidan?!” she yelled.

The Paragor Knight thrust forward to kill, but pulled up short. “Antoinette?!”

K ing’s Forest is very different from the Blackwood,” said Thrivenbard to the team of twelve assembled in Guard’s Keep the next morning. “But it is queer enough in its own right. While we will not contend with illgrets, wolvin, or the other foul things that were drawn by the will of the Seven Sleepers, there are other hazards. So we must be wary.”

“What kinds of hazards?” asked Locke, the youthful-looking Acacian Knight.

“Well, I have not ventured deep into the woods,” Thrivenbard reminded them. “But I have been far enough in to know that things grow very big there.”

“Perhaps you could define big,” said Sir Oswyn.