Wayne Batson - The Final Storm

“I am king now!” Paragor proclaimed. “King of Alleble and King of all The Realm!” He expected a roar from his armies, but none came. His words seemed to have been swallowed up, and there came a feeling over all of them-a feeling of impending doom. And the Paragor Knights looked about the city and even into the skies.

Then, the slightest breeze stirred on the balcony, and Paragor looked down and saw something shift in Aidan’s hand. Lord Rucifel came near and asked, “What is that?”

The moment the sword pierced his heart, Aidan awoke as if coming up from a splash of cool water. Warm, glad sunlight shone down upon him, and before him stretched an ocean of rolling green hills. Birds chirped and sang in the distance, and bright butterflies danced above carpets of tiny white flowers.

“Well-done, servant of Alleble.”

Aidan turned, and he beheld King Eliam in all his splendor. It did not burn Aidan’s eyes, for he was changed. But Aidan felt compelled to kneel. The King came forward and lifted Aidan back to his feet. Then he embraced Aidan, and said again, “Well-done!”

Aidan wept, for he knew in that embrace many things that he had not known before. At last he understood why The Realm divided. At last he understood why King Eliam allowed Paragor to take his life. And at last Aidan understood why King Eliam at the beginning had not simply forced all his subjects to obey-why he had given the Wyrm Lord and then Paragor the power of choice from which so many evils had come. It was love.

“Thank you, my King,” Aidan said when they parted. King Eliam smiled, and Aidan knew he would never cry again.

“Walk with me,” said the King, and he led Aidan over hills and through patches of flowers to a great green knoll where three tall trees flourished. White petals fell from them like snow, and Aidan saw two figures. One stood at the base of the tree on the left; the other on the right. As Aidan and the King drew near, Aidan saw that it was Robby and Antoinette. And yet, as he stared, he saw that they were different-no, that wasn’t quite the right word. Complete. In the gaze of each of his friends, he found two images. In Robby, he saw also Kearn! In Antoinette, he saw also Gwenne! And as they embraced Aidan, he realized that his memories were now mingled with those of Aelic’s. “All things are made new,” said the King.

When the trio parted, the King showed Aidan what lay at the base of the middle tree. It was a bundle of white armor with an emblem engraved upon the breastplate: a single vertical sword with two swords crossed behind it.

“It is the crest of a new kingdom,” said the King, pointing to the horizon. Aidan looked, and there on a far mountain stood a brilliant white castle. And as Aidan continued to stare, the first legions of an immense army crested a distant hill. As they neared, Aidan saw faces that he recognized-faces he had missed but had not seen for a long time.

“Gird yourself, Sir Aidan,” said the King. “There is yet one battle left.”

Paragor bent down and pulled a small scrap of parchment from Aidan’s hand. He slowly unrolled it and stared down at the writing. “Thisss!” he exclaimed, and his voice came out in a strangled hiss. “Thisss cannot be!” And he withdrew a large scroll from his belt and unrolled it. Then he compared the two pieces.

“What does it say?” Rucifel asked.

But Paragor never answered, for at that very moment a gale of wind surged down from the mountains and washed over the castle like a tidal wave. It slammed into those on the balcony and even the strongest knights faltered in its gusts.

Down in the fountain, the wind washed over captors and captives alike. Torches blew out and soldiers fell. When the wind had passed, King Ravelle turned and cried, “Look!”

In the center of the fountain, where the long-dry murynstil spouts protruded at the top of an ornate marble column, a trickle of water appeared. It bubbled up out of the spouts and flowed down the column until it met the black, waist-high oil. The moment the clear water touched that foul murk, the oil began to retreat! Water began to stream out of the top of the fountain, and soon it displaced the oil such that the acrid black liquid began to overflow the fountain walls.

“M’lord!!” Sanicrest yelled up to the balcony. The ruler of Inferness, who had been in charge of managing the prisoners in the fountain, stared at the water. It had nearly filled the fountain, and the last of the oil spilled over the edge onto the road at the feet of the enemy soldiers. But Paragor did not yet turn.

“M’lord!” Sanicrest called again. “Something goes amiss with the fountain!”

Up on the balcony, Paragor turned at last. He saw the prisoners in the fountain-no longer trembling, no longer afraid. And he yelled, “Let them burn then!” Paragor grabbed a torch and heaved it over the balcony wall. It plummeted from the sky and dropped into the center of the fountain. But there was no oil left there to ignite. The torch went out with a pathetic sputter.

Enraged, Paragor ordered his archers to kindle and fire flaming arrows. The first flaming arrows had been fired in haste, and whether it was by that or by some other design, they missed their mark and struck the road surrounding the fountain. WHOOSH!!! The oil on the road ignited and engulfed the enemy knights in a writhing ring of fire.

The pieces of the Scroll of Prophecy fell from Paragor’s hands, and he turned away from the fountain. Suddenly, he stared at the fallen Three Witnesses. Their bodies remained motionless, but the blood that had pooled beneath them began to seep into the stone of the balcony.

Then there came from the east, shining between the castle’s parapets, the first rays of dawn!

“The sun!” Kaliam cried, staring from the window of the highest room in the tower called the Library of Light. “The sun rises between the peaks of Pennath Ador!”

“Stand aside,” said Naysmithe. “I have one last act to complete before I am done!” Kaliam moved quickly to Lady Merewen.

Naysmithe threw the tarp away and revealed five gleaming swords. He grabbed the first, a broadsword with a wide silver hilt and the longest blade Kaliam had ever seen. Naysmithe took the sword to the window, and behold! When the pink rays of sun shone upon the sword, letters in ancient runes appeared as if newly engraved upon the hilt and blade in white fire. “First Charrend, the Blade That Cleaves Darkness!” Naysmithe yelled. Kaliam and Lady Merewen gasped as Naysmithe lightly tossed the sword out the window!

But before the sword could begin to fall, a hand reached down, snatched it out of the air, and both were gone. “Was that…?” Lady Merewen asked.

Naysmithe smiled and proclaimed, “Our King has returned!” Then he went to work tossing the other blades out the window, and as quickly as each left his hand it was grabbed by its owner. “For Sir Robby, Wyrmfel, the Dragon’s Bite! For Lady Antoinette, Thorinsgaet, the Stormbringer. For Sir Aidan, Adoric, the Glory Seeker. And last, forged anew, is Furyn, the captain’s blade called Fury!” When that last sword was snatched out of the air, there came a loud voice: “At last! My errant, earth-vexing blade! Ha-ha!”

Naysmithe turned to Kaliam and said, “Your sword is one of the Seven Swords from the prophecy, Sentinel.” Kaliam unsheathed his broadsword and held it in the sun’s light. Letters appeared, and Naysmithe seemed to read them. “Wayebrynn!” he pronounced it. “The Pathcutter!” Kaliam took back the sword and his hands tingled as he gripped it.

“That leaves only one sword,” Naysmithe announced. Lady Merewen looked at him questioningly.

Naysmithe took from his own sheath a marvelous sword with a thin silver crossguard and a long fluted blade. “This is the Seventh Sword,” he said, offering it to Lady Merewen. “Calvarian, the Sword of Redemption. Many spans of years did it serve the Kingdom of Alleble in my hand, but my days of fighting are long over. Use it well, m’lady! And bear it long!”