Wayne Batson - The Final Storm

“I think you ought to give them back to Aidan, right about now,” Mr. Pierson said in an emotionless voice that was somehow worse than anger. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Robby replied, and he practically threw the Scrolls at Aidan. Aidan swiftly rolled them up and shoved them into his backpack. He turned and looked up at the massive figure of Robby’s father.

In that moment, Aidan saw in the face of Robby’s father a different identity. The skull-like grimace, the barely concealed rage, the arrogant confidence-Aidan remembered. “Rucifel,” he whispered.

Mr. Pierson’s expression changed. His eyes narrowed, and one corner of his thin-lipped mouth turned up into a clever smile. “Robby, I think your friend Aidan has just about worn out his welcome here.” He reached slowly underneath his jacket.

Aidan involuntarily stepped back a pace. Then, to Aidan’s relief, Mr. Pierson pulled out a cell phone. “Call your father,” Mr. Pierson said. “Tell him to come get you… right now.”

Aidan punched in the number, spoke for a few moments, and then handed the phone back to Robby’s father. “He said he’d be here in about twenty-five minutes.”

“Good,” Mr. Pierson replied. He led Robby and Aidan up the stairs. When they entered the hallway at the top of the steps, Mr. Pierson directed Aidan to the front door.

“You are no longer welcome in this house, Aidan Thomas. So you’d best make other plans for tomorrow.”

And with that, Mr. Pierson ushered Aidan out the front door into the yard. But not before Aidan spied Robby gesturing to get his attention. Aidan stared, and Mr. Pierson turned.

“Son, we need to have a talk,” Mr. Pierson said, adjusting his glasses. “Go to your room.”

But it was too late. Aidan had gotten the message. Robby had mouthed the word “fort.”

E lspeth banged on Kaliam’s door. “M’lord Kaliam! Are you in there? It is Elspeth! M’lord?”

There came a muffled voice from inside. “Elspeth? You had better have a good reason for waking me!” The door swung open, and there was Kaliam, his ebony hair wild and hanging half over his face.

“Beggin’ your pardon, m’lord,” she said. “Sir Aelic is alive!”

At the mention of Aelic, Kaliam became fully awake. “Alive! Where did you get such news?”

“Thrivenbard sent a messenger from Yewland. He flew all night,” Elspeth said. “He said, ‘Tell Kaliam that Sir Aelic has been found, and he is alive!’”

Kaliam grabbed Elspeth by the shoulders and kissed her abruptly on the cheek. “Elspeth, this is spectacular news!” he said. “Praise to the King!”

Elspeth seemed a bit taken aback by the kiss and the sudden emotion. “Sir, there is more to the message. Thrivenbard asks that you come at once to Yewland, for Aelic is very ill. Too weak to move, he said.”

Kaliam’s smile faded a bit, and he slowly stepped backward into his chamber. “Have the dragon master saddle his four swiftest steeds,” he commanded. “Get word of this to Mallik, Oswyn, and King Ravelle. Tell them we leave for Yewland within the hour.”

They flew through the morning hours in silence, and as the sun rose high into the afternoon sky, the dragons from Alleble descended into the glade known as the Hall of Sun and Moon-the threshold of Yewland.

“Hail, Sentinel of Alleble!” called Baldergrim. He and a squad of braves came forth from the trees. “Welcome to all of you, but do not leave your steeds. Sir Aelic is under care in Her Majesty’s castle. It will be faster if we fly above the treetops.”

Kaliam nodded. “How is he?” he asked. “How is Aelic?”

“He is awake,” Baldergrim replied, but he seemed reluctant. “He has been asking for you, but… uh, Kaliam, Sir Aelic has taken grievous wounds. We have tended to him with such medicine as Yewland has to offer, but I do not know if it will be enough.”

“Then let us cease this chatter!” Sir Oswyn bellowed. “For I bring salves and remedies like no other in The Realm.”

Baldergrim nodded. He turned and whistled a soft, melodic trill. And from the trees, a white dragon spiraled down and landed next to him. Without a word, Baldergrim leaped into the saddle, and his steed swooped into the sky.

The others followed, and from the air, the Knights of Alleble saw that the Battle on the Forest Road had penetrated far deeper into the heart of Yewland than they had imagined. When Kaliam peered down into the woods, he saw open areas with blackened glades and scorched, leafless patches of trees.

The green Castle of Yewland itself did not escape entirely unscathed. Once a thing of wild beauty, like a solitary flowering plant burgeoning upon its hill with bud and bloom, the castle now seemed more like a rosebush after a storm. Turrets leaned or were roofless-one had even crashed to the hill and lay there in a pile. Several of the elaborate wooden stairways and balustrades were burned. But the main gate was still intact.

Baldergrim’s white dragon steed hurriedly descended and landed lightly on the wide balcony of the castle’s east side. The others landed, and Baldergrim led them up several curving halls, up one flight of stairs, and to a large arched chamber. The room radiated green light, though from whence it came, none could say. There were no windows and no torches. Still, they could see the room was a house of healing, and the gentle green light was welcome.

There were numerous beds, mats, and cots, and upon them lay many of Yewland’s wounded braves. Nock appeared and warmly greeted his old friends. “This way, my Sentinel,” he said, and they followed him.

They found Queen Illaria, Trenna Swiftfoot, and Thrivenbard at Aelic’s bedside. Aelic lay there, eyes closed, his porcelain white skin now a dull ashen gray. When Kaliam saw the blood-soaked bandages on Aelic’s head, arm, chest, and stomach, he wanted to cry out, but he bit his tongue and smiled bravely.

“My son!” King Ravelle cried, and though he wanted to swoop to Aelic’s side, he made way for Oswyn, who knelt by Aelic and opened a huge satchel. Oswyn fished around for a while and removed several cloth pouches and a half-dozen small, corked bottles. He went to work at once, examining wounds, crushing herbs from the packets, and daubing Aelic with salves.

“We found him just before sundown last night,” Thrivenbard said. “It is no wonder that he was not found before. Kaliam, he was in the Sepulcher.”

“The Sepulcher!” Kaliam exclaimed.

“Aelic fell into one of the pits where the Seven were buried,” Nock explained. “When Aelic was last awake, he told us that one of the Sleepers chased him there. His dragon rescued him then.”

“We found Gabby in that cursed valley,” Thrivenbard explained. “She had been mauled. We can only guess that the Sleeper left Aelic for dead.”

Oswyn lifted the bandage on Aelic’s stomach, and they all heard his sudden intake of air.

“Oswyn, what?” King Ravelle asked, and his voice pleaded. Oswyn turned to the king, started to speak but didn’t.

Finally, he looked at King Ravelle and then Kaliam. “He is gravely ill. That is all I can say for now.”

“Is there not anything I can do?” Queen Illaria asked. And Sir Oswyn looked at her and was reminded of her kindness to them… and their feast the night before the Twelve left for Acacia.

“Maybe…,” Oswyn said, half to himself. “Your Highness, would you bring me a flask of Golden Tear?”

The queen did not question. She didn’t even command an underling to go and get it. She sprinted herself from the healing chamber and returned in moments carrying a tall green urn.

“Will this be enough?” she asked.