Wayne Batson - The Final Storm

Aidan and Antoinette lost all sense of where they were when Zabediel began to recite the prophecy from memory. The walls of the passage peeled back, and the flickering torch blazed anew and became a distant sun rising over a pristine green world. All was serene, but a bruised sky on the western horizon signaled a storm was coming.

Laugh and be glad, realm from my hand.

Wind and trees, sing songs.

Mountains rise and smile at the sky.

My children, grow and be strong.

Gifts I have given thee, and gifts will I give

To the firstborn and all of your kin.

A path of light I have laid out before thee,

And the greater prize, choose from within.

Alas, my children, among thee,

In the darkness, a deed will be done.

Covetous wyrm ire will burn like white fire,

And innocent blood will run.

Wind and tall trees will fall silent.

Mountains will scowl and shudder.

The sky will turn black and

My children will weep

For the realm torn asunder.

From Torin’s Keep, the dragon will fly,

Swift on the wing, away from my eye.

Into the deep forest where

The first wolvins dwell,

He will teach them his secrets and

Persuade them to lie.

No forest will hide, the blood-red stain

Of their unfortunate choices.

And though they lay quiet beneath the boughs,

I still hear their voices.

Traitorous wyrm! I see from afar.

The whole realm groans around thee.

In the Shattered Lands your

Consequence stands

Entombed beneath a molten sea.

I will call the Seven, out from their den,

And though they beg and weep,

A sepulcher of trees will be their doom,

And evermore they sleep.

From the sorrow, new hope will spring.

Glimpse-kind will fill all the lands.

Alleble will be my beacon.

Seven fountains where the waters dance.

All will know of my kingdom,

And I will watch over all.

From near and far and the Mirror Realm,

Many will answer my call.

I will choose my favored one

And give him the sword of the pure.

Yet his loyalty like a castle wall

Will but for a time endure.

His will be the black desire

To make the wyrm’s choice his own.

Innocent blood will spill again,

A fountain left as dry as bone.

The Betrayer will be cast out,

But in the darkness will reign.

He will prey on the weak and weak-minded,

And rule with a scepter of pain.

In secret, his armies will swell,

Bloated by vengeance and greed.

The firstborn wyrm will rise again,

And the Seven will no longer sleep.

In Alleble the bells will peal

When the Herald comes forth

And calls the name of Three Witnesses

In the kingdom’s darkest hour.

Heroes, seers of visions,

Travelers of both Passage and Thread,

Warriors of the Mirror Realm

Become The Betrayer’s dread.

The Child of Storms, the Dragonfriend,

The Seeker of the Lost,

Will raise their swords in battle

And dare to risk the cost.

They will charge into the darkness,

The Black Breath of the wyrm.

And shine like bands of sunlight

In the coming final storm.

But when all efforts have failed,

And The Betrayer has taken the throne,

The Witnesses will be brought alive

And two destinies will be shown.

They must face the offer

To see the victory in his eyes.

The Betrayer he must turn them

Or else must take their lives.

“That is the end,” Zabediel explained, and his voice returned to normal. “The end as Paragor knows it. I have gone through great pain to convince him that there is no more that could affect his rise to power and Alleble’s fall.”

The torchlight flickered and thunder rumbled ominously.

“The prophecy makes it clear that Paragor will capture the Three Witnesses. And as far as his arrogant imagination is concerned, he believes that when he does, his victory will be assured.”

“But the prophecy… it doesn’t end there,” Aidan said. “You haven’t read from the parchment I found.”

“No, it does not end there, Sir Aidan,” Zabediel confirmed. “And let all The Realm rejoice because it does not. There is more, and there is, I think… hope. I read it now to you. May you understand it well.”

When the Witnesses decide,

Former deeds may be undone.

The Seven Swords may be unveiled.

Worlds once divided become one.

“That’s it?” Aidan blurted out. “When the Witnesses decide? Decide what?”

“You will know when that time comes,” Zabediel answered.

“But it says ‘Former deeds MAY be undone.’ That doesn’t sound very certain.”

“I did not claim that the prophecy would guarantee victory,” said Zabediel. “To think that it does would be to err like Paragor. I only said the last part of the prophecy offers hope, and it does.”

“But what are the Seven Swords?” Antoinette objected.

“There, Lady Antoinette, my wisdom fails,” said Zabediel. “Perhaps that is a question for someone else to answer.”

Thunder slammed and reverberated in the stone walls of the hallway.

“The storm,” whispered Antoinette. “Zabed, can you run now?”

Zabed nodded. “I fear we must run or we all will perish.”

A ll through the night, Warriant, the first vanguard of Balesparr, mobilized his soldiers to help the citizens of his village prepare for evacuation. Thrivenbard promised he would send a fleet of dragons back to bear them to their new homes in the Kingdom of Alleble.

Baleneers led Thrivenbard and the remaining Knights of Alleble to their dragons on the edge of King’s Forest.

Now, as Thrivenbard, his knights, and a large contingent of Baleneer spearmen passed through the gap between the mountains, Thrivenbard was lost in thought. He was grateful Warriant had sent his spearmen to help defend Alleble, but the Alleble commander’s thoughts still lingered on the ones who would not be coming back-the warriors who died in that perilous forest. And, of course, the fact that Zabediel was now in the hands of the enemy was even more bad news for the followers of King Eliam.

His thoughts were interrupted by a thunderous crack. From high above, the dragon riders from Alleble saw newly erected scaffolds and platforms, nested in various crags upon the western face of the mountains. There was another earsplitting crack, followed by a great grinding sound.

“Witness the craft of King Brower and his kin!!” Thrivenbard called out in a loud shout.

They watched in rapt amazement as a huge white section of stone detached itself from the mountain’s face and slid slowly down until it disappeared into a cloud of snow and debris at the foot of the mountain. The dragon riders swooped down beyond the drifting cloud and found thousands of Glimpse craftsmen in teams of fifties and hundreds gathered around massive segments of that same brilliant white stone. Some of the Glimpses wielded immense hammers and pounded on enormous wedges and chisels. Still others were busy with serpentine hoses, spilling gallons of snowmelt wherever metal met stone.

“Look!” Robby pointed, drawing even with Trenna as they soared over the copse of evergreens and the training compound behind the castle. And below the dragon riders, a steady train of long wagons crept slowly along a newly cleared path. The wagons were drawn by dozens of stocky blackhorne and their payload: more huge sections of white rock. Some were cut in vast sheets, others into massive triangles.

Trumpets blared, for the heralds had seen the return of the team from King’s Forest. And all the dragon riders looked up and were astonished by the sight before them. Protected by dizzyingly intricate networks of scaffolds, and rising so high that they hid the western horizon from view, were immense new battlements made of the pure white stone from the twin mounts of Pennath Ador. Not nearly complete, but clearly well in progress, the walls and towers stood gleaming in the morning sun.