The Final Storm (23 page)

“But my family . . . if I don’t go back, who will tell them?”

Lady Merewen smiled and put her hand on Robby’s shoulder. “King Eliam the Everlasting has many servants,” she said. And sud-denly, Robby felt another hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and there was Trenna, grinning like a schoolgirl. Yet another hand, a big one, landed on Robby’s other shoulder. Robby smiled, for there was Mallik. Nock came next, then Kindle, and another . . . and another. And still many more after that until Robby was surrounded by Glimpses. Their hands chased away the chill, and Robby pictured the eyes of the old Glimpse from the mountain.

“The only thing you must decide is whether you will continue to trust.”

“Robby, I offer to you now the good confession,” Kaliam said. “Think deeply on this, for you are free to choose. Only answer ‘aye’ if it is the deepest longing of your heart.”

Robby looked up at the glad loving eyes of his new friends, but no, they were somehow more than friends. They were family.
I will trust you,
Robby said in his mind. But out loud he yelled at the top of his lungs, “Aye!”

“Then by the heartfelt confession of your lips,” Kaliam announced, tapping the sword blade lightly on his shoulders, “I dub thee Sir Robby, Twelfth Knight of Alleble and servant forever of King Eliam the Everlasting!”

The roar that escaped the Great Hall in that moment could be heard even by those who passed by the castle on the road. The cel-ebration ensued, but for Kaliam, Robby, and many of the warriors gathered there, they could not enjoy much of it, for they had impor-tant matters to discuss.

“Can they do it?” Kaliam asked. He stood beside a roaring fire in Guard’s Keep.

“My people are masters of mountain and stone,” Mallik replied proudly. “If there are any fissures in the tough white rock of Pennath Ador, we will exploit them. Still, it will take an army, and we need to begin now, before my kinsmen arrive.”

“What must we do?” asked Farix, and he pulled a rolled parch-ment and a quill pen from his wide sleeves.

“First, we will need more cutting and wedge tools,” Mallik explained, the lust for his craft thick in his voice. “King Brower will bring those that were not destroyed in the attack on Ludgeon. It is a goodly amount, but not enough. These will need to be made with haste and precision—not an easy feat to combine. And they can be made only from the purest veins of murynstil.”

Kaliam turned to the armory keeper, who looked lost in thought. “Kindle?”

“Aye,” he replied. “We can do that. Naysmithe can make anything from any metal in The Realm. But he will need a team of craftsmen, and every forge in Alleble will need to be stoked. I will see to it.”

Mallik nodded. “Good!” he said. “Next we will need to harvest dragon skins—enough to stitch together a flexible pipeline that will reach halfway up the mountains.”

“My word,” said Elspeth. “I can get the skins, for as you know, our dragons shed their skins often. But what on earth would you need such a length for?”

“Ahhh,” Mallik said, a twinkle in his eye. “That is the secret of our craft, but you shall learn it soon enough!”

“What more do we need?” Farix asked, busily scrawling every-thing on the scroll.

Mallik twirled a braid of his mustache for a moment. “A hun-dred kettles to boil snow,” he said. “Miles of good rope, a forest’s worth of timber, fifty sturdy carts with several hundred spare wheels, and as many dragons as we can spare.”

“Splinter will help!” Robby chimed in.

“Nay!” Mallik exclaimed. “I would take any dragon in Alleble, save that one. Splinter is your steed now, and you shall need her for your mission.”

“Soon, Sir Robby!” Kaliam said, seeing Robby’s eagerness.

Robby grinned, for he liked being called sir.
Wait ’til Aidan sees me!
he thought.

“That is quite a list,” Farix said.

“This is quite a task,” Mallik replied.

“And time is the great unknown,” King Ravelle said. “We are hoping to do much without knowing when Paragor will mount his offensive. Have we heard from your scouts on the Cold River?”

“Yes,” Kaliam replied. “There is much movement in Paragory. More troops arrive each day, but at least so far, he has not given any indication of when he might attack.”

“That is good news,” King Ravelle said. “Perhaps we will have new walls upon which to fight, after all! Oh, and well defended those walls will be. Nock and Queen Illaria have been training Yewland’s Braves with the arbalest. As is expected, they have taken to them with great enthusiasm! Combining the arbalest with Blackwood Arrows has absolutely devastating effect.”

“Excellent.” Kaliam stood, clapping his hands. “Well, then, many of you have your orders. See to them, and honor our great King with your work. The twelve I have selected will remain, for we must discuss your mission into King’s Forest.”

The fire in Guard’s Keep was now just glowing embers. It hissed and popped behind the black grate, its warmth nearly spent. The candle chandelier swayed and turned slowly, sending flickering shadows dancing around the room. The chilled night air slipped in through the closed shutters.

All mirth had disappeared. Each knight looked grimly thoughtful. Robby gazed at the other warriors, and aside from himself and Kaliam, he counted only ten. Kaliam stood by the fireplace, staring expectantly at the chamber door. Robby wondered who was missing.

“I am sorry!” came a voice from outside the room, and in sped Trenna—now wearing the bright armor of Alleble. “I did not mean to keep you waiting,” she said. “But I would feel out of place among such proud ironclad warriors without my own silver armor.”

Trenna quickly took a seat next to Robby.

“Tonight,” Kaliam began, “you all met Sir Robby of the Mirror Realm and Lady Trenna from Yewland.”

“Never alone!” sang out a Glimpse with bushy eyebrows and a lion’s mane of black hair. “And well-met, I say!”

“Yes, Sir Oswyn,” Kaliam said, smiling. “Well-met, indeed. For we know them, but they do not know all of us. I shall remedy that presently.”

“When tomorrow you take flight over the Mountains of Glory and enter King’s Forest, Thrivenbard will lead you.” A princely looking dark-haired knight with sharp features and large brown eyes stood briefly and bowed toward Robby and Trenna.

“Thrivenbard’s wood knowledge is without equal in The Realm,” Kaliam went on. “And of the twelve, he alone has ventured into King’s Forest. Even so, Thrivenbard would be the first to tell you that for such a mission as this we will need all the woodland experience we can muster. So Halberad, his apprentice, will join us.”

Halberad, a knight clad all in brown leather armor, stood a moment and bowed.

“Like Trenna, the next three warriors were born and raised among the trees in Yewland,” Kaliam said. “Nock, Baldergrim, and Boldoak.”

The sandy-haired archer stood first and winked at Robby and Trenna. “Hail, Dragonfriend and Swiftfoot,” Nock said. “I trust there will be no more races in the forest.” Robby and Trenna glanced sideways at each other and blushed.

The two knights who stood next could not have been more different. The one called Baldergrim was tall, slender, and golden-haired, clean-shaven with skin smooth like porcelain and large gray eyes. Boldoak was broad and muscular with unruly shocks of dark hair and a wild beard to match. His skin was weather-beaten and worn, with a large scar prominent on his cheek. Boldoak’s dark eyes were barely visible slits beneath his protruding brow.

“At your service,” Baldergrim said in a rich, deep voice.

“For the King’s glory,” said Boldoak, his voice low and gravelly. They both bowed and sat.

“The realm of Acacia, ever a friend to Alleble, sends three of its greatest hunters, Jarak, Locke, and Valden, to help us on this quest.” Three warriors stood, each dressed in armor of burnished copper. Jarak, a medium-build Glimpse with clever green eyes and a reddish Vandyke beard, said, “Proud to serve with you!”

“As am I,” said Locke, who looked very young with a mop of light brown hair and a sprinkling of freckles upon his nose and cheeks.

Valden was taller than the other two, and had waves of ruddy blond hair, small peaceful eyes, and a narrow goatee. In spite of the kindly appearance, Robby noticed that Valden had a pair of long-handled axes dangling from holsters at his sides. Valden said nothing but bowed just the same.

“Valden does not speak much,” said Locke.

“Except in battle,” corrected Jarak. “Then, cover your ears!”

“You have already heard from Sir Oswyn,” Kaliam continued. “But know now that he is gifted with herbs and medicines.”

“I deliver balms that heal for our allies,” Oswyn stood and said. “And more explosive remedies for our enemies!”

“Your fire powder is most effective!” said a massive knight with long blond hair. He stood, reached over his shoulder, and brought round a huge, dual-bladed battleaxe. “Sir Rogan, of Mithegard,” he said.

Sir Rogan sat down and winked mischievously at Robby. When he did, his eyes sparkled blue a moment. With curious fascination Robby looked from knight to knight. Each of the warriors, though clearly from many cultures and realms, had eyes that flickered blue, the color of devotion to King Eliam. Robby smiled, thinking that somewhere on earth his own Glimpse dwelt. And now, this Glimpse twin would have eyes that glinted blue as well.

After meeting such a collection of gifted warriors, Robby felt very honored to be counted among them. Most of them were trackers or hunters—except Oswyn, who seemed a type of doctor.
They all have a certain job,
Robby thought.
Except Sir Rogan—and me.

Robby wondered what their roles on the mission would be, but Kaliam interrupted his thoughts. “Somewhere in a hidden village under the canopy of King’s Forest lives a very old Glimpse,” Kaliam began. Robby looked up with great interest. “His name is Zabediel, and he was the scribe for King Eliam when this world was new.”

“Lives?”
questioned Thrivenbard. “Surely you mean
lived
.”

“Nay, my friend,” Kaliam replied. “For once, it is you who have gone off track. Zabediel was one of Torin’s kin, in the direct line of the firstborn Glimpses. To him has been given unnaturally long life. By the word of King Eliam, Zabediel is yet alive.”

Looks were exchanged around the room. No one could fathom anyone, aside from the King, of course, having lived so long.

“Zabediel was pleased to record the King’s ideas and his decrees,” Kaliam went on. “He did so for many years. But at one point, still long before Alleble came to be, the King saw into the future of The Realm. And what he saw Zabediel recorded on a single sheet of parchment.”

Sir Oswyn nodded as if he knew something of Kaliam’s tale.

“This scroll remained in King Eliam’s keeping,” the Sentinel continued. “Even as Alleble was founded and many things in The Realm were born and grew, the scroll was safe. But when The Schism occurred, Zabediel, fearing for his own life, sought refuge in King’s Forest. And the scroll . . . well, the King hid that away, for he knew what could happen if one of ill intent knew its contents.”

“The Scroll of Prophecy!” said Sir Oswyn. “That is the parchment you speak of!”

“Yes,” Kaliam replied.

“But that is just a legend,” Jarak said.

“As were the Wyrm Lord and the Seven,” Nock said. “And yet they live and breathe—I have seen it.”

Jarak fell silent.

“There are many legends in The Realm,” Kaliam went on. “Legends laughed off as harvest tales or children’s lore. But even the most far-fetched stories can often be traced back to a kernel of truth. I do not know how much of the legend concerning the Scroll of Prophecy is to be heeded, but this much is known to me: It will help us identify the Three Witnesses.”

“I don’t understand,” Jarak said, pinching the end of his tapered red beard. “Who are these Three Witnesses you speak of ?”

“Mighty champions,” said Sir Oswyn. “Bold-hearted warriors with magnificent weapons. It is said that these three will come to Alleble in its time of greatest need and defend us from the threatening darkness.”

“We have our mission, then!” Baldergrim exclaimed, his gray eyes intense and turbulent like a storm about to break. “Let us go and get this scroll. And then we might match Paragor’s living legends with our own!”