Wayne Batson - The Final Storm

Guard’s Keep had emptied, except for Kaliam. He sat alone by the fire, turning the short arrow from the arbalest round and round in his hands. There came a soft rap at the door, and Farix entered.

“The messengers upon the blue dragons are away,” Farix said. Kaliam nodded, but Farix did not leave.

“My Sentinel,” he said, his arms crossing and his hands disappearing into the long sleeves of his surcoat. “There are many kingdoms in The Realm who ought to come to our aid. But now we hear of broken alliances-Inferness, Frostland, Candleforge. What of the others? Who will come?”

“Our true allies will come,” Kaliam said. He looked up at Farix and then quickly broke eye contact. “They will come, for the enemy brings the firstborn dragon, the Seven Sleepers, and an army of a hundred legions. If our allies do not come, and Alleble falls… The Realm falls with it.”

S ure, it was scary,” Mr. Thomas continued. “But we’re safe now, back on the ground in Maryland. Yes, he’s standing right here.” He handed the phone to Aidan as they waited in some airport offices for the paramedics, along with other passengers from the flight.

“Hi, Mom!” Aidan said into the phone. “I thought we were done for, but King Eliam had other plans!… I know you don’t believe any of that, but you should… I am totally okay, Mom-but Dad’s got a great big knot on his head! They are taking him to the hospital… because he passed out.”

“Aidan!” His father shot him a look.

“Okay. I love you too, Mom,” Aidan said and returned the phone to his father.

Mr. Thomas sighed. “I’m really fine. It’s just precautionary, they are going to run a few tests… in case I have a concussion… Honey, I’m sure it’s nothing.” He listened intently for a few minutes. “We’ll see you then.” He closed the cell phone. “Your mother is taking the next available flight to Baltimore.”

After loading their suitcases into the back of the taxi outside of the hospital, Aidan and his father slumped into the backseat and closed their eyes.

“Some trip, huh, Aidan?” Mr. Thomas said.

“Yeah,” Aidan replied.

“First, the flight gets delayed…”

“Then, we nearly crash, and you end up in the hospital.”

“I told them I didn’t have a concussion,” Mr. Thomas complained.

“So you’re an accountant-and a doctor?” Aidan laughed.

Mr. Thomas smiled, but rubbed his head. “This has been the longest day,” he said. “What time is it, anyway?”

Aidan sat bolt upright and craned around his seat to see the clock on the taxi’s dashboard. “Ten thirty, shoot! I knew I should have called Robby from the terminal. Do you think it’s too late to call?”

“Why do you need to call him?”

“I forgot to tell him how early you’d be dropping me off at his house in the morning. Do you think it’s too late to call him?”

“On a Friday night?” he replied, delicately rubbing the growing welt on his head. “No, it’s probably okay on a Friday night.” He handed Aidan the cell phone, and Aidan dialed. It rang once, twice.. . a third time, but no answer. Aidan felt something strange come over him-an urgency to hang up. Fourth ring. “What nerve you have calling so late.” A voice came into his mind. Fifth ring. “You’ll make his mom angry!” Sixth ring.“Hang up now!!”

“Hello?” Robby answered on the seventh ring.

“Robby? Hi! It’s Aidan.”

“Uh, hey, Aidan.”

“I called to tell you what time I’m coming to see you tomorrow.”

“Uh, righight,” Robby replied, a strange detachment in his voice. “About that… I don’t know if that’s really a good-”

“My dad is going to drop me off about eight fifteen in the morning.”

“Eight fifteen?” Robby echoed. “Well, I was startin’ to say, uh, tomorrow I gotta-”

Aidan interrupted him again. “Good then,” Aidan said decidedly. “I’ll see you then. I can’t wait to see you, Robby. We have a lot of catching up to do. Bye.” Without waiting for a reply, Aidan closed the cell phone.

“That was kind of abrupt,” Aidan’s father said without opening his eyes.

“It was the only way I could keep him from getting out of it,” Aidan replied as the taxi came to a stop at the hotel. “I’m telling you, Dad, I don’t know what’s gotten into Robby.”

Robby stared at the phone receiver. Then he looked up at the man sitting across the kitchen table from him. He felt the man’s piercing green eyes boring into him. “He hung up on me.”

“Well, what did he say before he hung up?” the man asked pointedly.

Robby swallowed. “He said he’ll be here a little after eight in the morning.”

The man stood suddenly and knocked the phone out of Robby’s hand. It clattered to the floor and slid across the linoleum. “I told you he’s not welcome here, didn’t I?”

Robby cowered. The man stood just a foot away, and his thick, muscled arms dangled at his sides like a gunslinger’s. “Didn’t I?!”

“Uh, y-yes, sir,” Robby whispered. “But, sir, you didn’t tell me that until after I’d told him he could come.” The big man raised his hand as if to strike, but the strike didn’t come. Instead, the man laughed, and he patted Robby on the head as if he were a cocker spaniel.

“On second thought, Robby, let Aidan come,” said the big man as he turned to leave the kitchen. “I just may have to stay home from work tomorrow. It’s time to find out what Aidan’s made of.”

I mean no disrespect, Sir Thrivenbard, but we have followed many trails of this kind already. And each time, promising though they may be, they lead us to fallen braves, or the carcass of a dragon. Could we not renew our search on the Yewland side of the forest?” Halberad asked his mentor.

Thivenbard knelt on the forest floor, but did not look up. “Hal, you are a fine tracker in your own right,” he said. “But think not of what you expect to find. Read the signs and allow them to show you what may be found.”

“Have I missed something?” Hal asked.

“If we left this path now, you would. Follow me, and be my shadow to the right side of the path. You see, the Braves of Yewland, skilled as they are, followed this track to one end not realizing that there was another.”

And, with his eyes locked onto the ground, Thrivenbard moved quickly into the heart of the Blackwood. Halberad marveled at his commander’s movements. He was as surefooted as anyone Hal had ever seen, but it was more than that-when he moved, his limbs seemed to stretch and twist into just the right position so that he could pass soundlessly between, under, or over root and tree. He sometimes seemed to disappear behind a large tree trunk only to appear seconds later several yards ahead-and yet, no one had seen him pass between the two points. Like a wood ghost, he is, Hal thought.

They traveled forty yards north and came to a large area that had been flattened as if by a great weight. Thrivenbard motioned for Hal to wait and then he skirted the perimeter. “Now, Halberad, if you please, look and tell me what you see.”

Halberad circled the area as he had seen his commander do. He studied the ground, seeing the trampling of boot prints and gigantic wolvin paws, the imprint of Glimpse bodies, scratches and notches in the surrounding trees, and many dried bloodstains. Evidently, Thrivenbard saw something more. Inwardly, Hal groaned, for he knew this was a test. Nothing hurt worse than feeling he had disappointed his commander. Wait! A chill of excitement shot up his spine, and he lowered himself slowly to the ground. At the northernmost edge of the scene, not far from where Thrivenbard stood, there was a complicated sign.