Wayne Batson - The Final Storm

“But The Stones of White Fire,” Kaliam said. “We can pass, but Lady Merewen will not be able to.”

“She will today,” Naysmithe replied, and ambled ahead of them at great speed.

“But why are we going to the Library of Light?” she called after him.

His voice drifted back like the echo of a memory. “We go to witness the dawn.”

Aidan and Antoinette waited in darkness and in silence for what seemed like an eternity until, at last, they heard again the sounds of marching feet. They stared into each other’s eyes even as the guards took hold of Antoinette. She did not utter a word, but a gleam in her eyes and the peaceful expression on her face spoke volumes to Aidan.

The cell door slammed shut, and Aidan stood alone in the center of the room. “Believin’ in something is a special thing, my boy.” Grampin’s voice came back to Aidan. “It can be risky ’cause if ye believe in something, ye stand up for it… ye fight for it…” He smiled, remembering his wheelchair-bound grandfather helping him to understand. It all seemed so long ago. Finding the Scrolls in the basement, being welcomed to Alleble by Gwenne, the adventure in Mithegard and beyond. So much had changed.

Aidan reached beneath his breastplate and once again removed the small segment of the Scroll of Prophecy. He looked at the old words, transcribed by Zabediel but spoken by the one true King. Aidan smiled and spoke then to King Eliam. He spoke aloud, saying things he had always wanted to say to his King. And though he never heard the familiar voice in reply, Aidan knew he was not alone in that cell.

“It is time,” came a voice at the cell door. Aidan turned as if from a dream and saw the soldiers standing there.

“Come on, then!” demanded a guard. “Get moving!”

“Here now,” said another, pointing at Aidan. “He has on our armor still! I will be bound if some Alleb spy will stand before the master in the garb of Paragory!” The guard disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a bundle of clothes and a pile of tarnished armor. “Put these on… spy!”

It wasn’t easy with his injured wrist, but Aidan changed. The tunic and breeches were stained and tattered and stank in the worst way. The armor was tarnished, gouged, and crusted with dried blood. Even so, Aidan thought it was an improvement. He turned his back to the guards and tucked the scrap of parchment beneath his new breastplate.

They bound his hands and led him from the cell along endless passages and winding stairs until they came to a familiar door above Guard’s Keep. The knights opened the door and waited. Aidan stepped through and found himself on the balcony beneath the still churning clouds. Rows of Paragor Knights stood there, but they parted, making way for Aidan.

They led Aidan forward between the soldiers, between torches that waved in the wind. Then they forced him to kneel.

Before Aidan, at the balcony wall, stood a tall warrior. His back was turned, but from the billowing burgundy cape and proud stance, Aidan knew who it was. He turned in that moment and spoke to a guard. “Unbind his hands. He is no danger to us now.” The knights cut his bonds, and Aidan absently rubbed his throbbing wrist.

Paragor’s long gray hair was drawn back, and a black circlet-like a thin crown-rested above his strong brow and penetrating hazel eyes. He stared as if measuring Aidan. And when he spoke, Aidan heard a very different voice than he had heard on the hill when Falon had brought them to assail Paragor.

“You have fought valiantly, Sir Aidan,” he said, his voice noble and kingly-above all else to be trusted. It was the voice Aidan remembered from a vision long ago, but still there was an allure-a draw that compelled Aidan to listen. “I do not think on you as an enemy, for though your goals and ambitions were in contrast to my own, I cannot fault your passion, your resolve, or your skill at arms. You were a worthy adversary, and now… you shall be a worthy ally.”

Aidan went to speak, but Paragor held up a hand and Aidan’s mouth snapped shut.

“Though many would counsel me otherwise, Sir Aidan, I will make you the same offer I made your companions.” Aidan turned slowly and saw two knights facedown not far from where he knelt. Blood pooled beneath them and they lay unnaturally still. Aidan knew them, and many things ran through his mind as he looked upon them. He choked back tears, but he felt a great swelling of pride most of all. Antoinette, Robby-they had done it. They had made the right decision.

Looming proudly over the bodies was a dark knight brandishing his twin blades, Lord Rucifel. He wore a dark helmet in the shape of a dragon’s head, and from the darkness of that mask eyes flashed red.

“In spite of my generosity,” Paragor continued, “they chose the weaker path.” Aidan looked questioningly back to the warrior before him.

“They have lost,” he said, clasping his hands before his chest. “But their loss is your gain. You will have all that was to be theirs and so much more.”

The warrior seemed to grow. His presence intensified. And when he spread apart his hands, Aidan saw visions of grand towers, high thrones, and vaults of gold. It was all there for the asking, Aidan knew.

“Look about you,” he continued. “All that you have defended is lost. There is nothing left.”

Aidan turned and saw desolation. Everywhere were fallen towers, rent walls, charred debris, and broken bodies. The sky was black, but roiling with dark clouds and smoke from a thousand fires.

“Stand… come closer,” Paragor said. “There is so much more to see.”

Aidan slowly stepped to the balcony wall, and following Paragor’s gesture, he looked down into the fountain below. Aidan wept.

For in the fountain, immersed up to their waists in ugly black oil, were more than a hundred Glimpse men, women, and children. “They are traitors of my kingdom,” Paragor declared. “But at your command, I will make them free.”

Aidan stared into the fountain at the pale, trembling forms, and he began to despair. But then he saw a face he recognized among those in the fountain. It was King Ravelle, the Glimpse of his father. But next to him was a swordmaiden with large brown eyes that glinted blue. Aidan smiled, seeing the Glimpse of his mother and knowing at last that she believed. They looked up at Aidan, and there was no fear in their eyes. They nodded to Aidan’s unspoken question.

Paragor drew Aidan away from the balcony wall and said, “You see? By the Scroll of Prophecy, the very words of Eliam, I have won the throne! All is mine to command. All is mine to offer.

“All you must do,” said Paragor, and his voice became a gravelly whisper, “is deny the one who abandoned you. Deny King Eliam here before all these who witness.”

Aidan looked over at the bodies of his friends. A profound wave of peace washed over him, and he looked steadily into Paragor’s eyes. They glinted red and were greedy with expectation.

At last, Aidan spoke calmly. “I will never deny my King!”

The dark knight came forward with his two swords, but his master held up a hand. “I’ll do it myself,” Paragor said. His hazel eyes flared red as he drew a long, dark sword. Aidan reached into his armor just as Paragor drove the blade through Aidan’s breastplate.

A idan’s body slumped forward and fell at Paragor’s feet. Immediately, Paragor knew something had not gone as planned. The clouds overhead stopped churning. There was not even a breath of air. It was eerily quiet.

But Paragor ignored the feeling of dread that crept up his spine. This was his moment of triumph! He had done all the Scroll of Prophecy commanded. He had captured the Three Witnesses and enticed them with offers of unfathomable wealth and power. When they refused, he had killed them-and in so doing, he had eliminated the last threat to his assuming the white marble seat he had long coveted.