The Final Storm (43 page)

“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!”

Lady Merewen held the sword in awe.

“Now,” Naysmithe said with an eyebrow cocked. “There is a final battle to be won!”

Paragor watched a lone dragon rider streak high above the castle. He watched the rider hold a sword aloft such that its blade pierced the storm clouds. As the warrior flew, the clouds began to glisten with the rays of the morning sun. And then the roiling thunderheads parted as if being unzipped from one end to the far horizon. Paragor knew then who it was that wielded such a blade, and fear clawed at him.

“The bodies!” Lord Rucifel shouted. “They are gone!”

Paragor looked down, but the Three Witnesses were no longer there. Paragor looked up again and he saw four more dragon riders begin to swoop down. And these were followed by innumerable others. Paragor turned and looked to the streets of Alleble. He held up his hand and closed his eyes. Suddenly, the four remaining Sleepers burst forth from either side of the road.

Paragor turned to Lord Rucifel. “Take up arms, my servants!” Paragor yelled. “Fight once more for final victory!” The moment the knights were gone, a dragon landed on the balcony. From its saddle leaped a hale warrior dressed in white armor, and from his sheath he drew a long broadsword. “Paragor,” he said, “the time of your judgment is at hand.”

As Rucifel and his warriors flowed into the streets of Alleble, the first fountain, which had for so long remained dry, now gushed forth in unmatched splendor, its high arching plumes of water glistening in the dawn sun. Rucifel hissed, for he saw that no one in the fountain had perished—only those on the outside. The prisoners had begun to break out of their bonds, so Rucifel drew his twin blades and rushed forward with his knights.

Four dragons landed between them and the fountains. “Hold, thou wretched lot of canker-blossoms!” Captain Valithor bellowed as he leaped off his dragon. Aidan, Antoinette, and Robby dismounted and drew their weapons.

“I watched you die!” Rucifel exclaimed. “I watched you all die!”

“Death is not the end,” Robby said. “Not for us . . . and not for you.”

Rucifel snarled, brandished his swords, and said, “You are no son of mine!”

“No,” Robby replied coldly. “And I never was.”

Rucifel shrieked and raced toward them. His knights, more than a hundred strong, charged too. Rucifel whirled and thrust both his blades at Captain Valithor’s side, but Fury blocked them both. Rucifel stabbed low and slashed high, but was again easily blocked. He took both swords in a rage and slammed them like hammers, as if he would crush Valithor between them. But the captain brought Fury up between the two swords, snapped his wrist, and batted away the attack. Then he lifted Fury up beneath Rucifel’s chin and flicked off his dark helmet.

“Now, you wayward, black-hearted rapscallion, I can see your face!” Captain Valithor yelled. “And in your eyes, I see your fear!”

Rucifel smacked Fury away and lunged for Captain Valithor. His left-hand blade stabbed for the captain’s throat. The right-hand blade trailed behind it, raised high as if to crash down upon Valithor’s snowy-white head.

But Captain Valithor was far too fast. He ducked the attack and, at the same time, slammed Fury into Rucifel. Paragor’s lieutenant groaned as he fell to the road and breathed his last.

Aidan, Antoinette, and Robby found that their new swords were imbued with the power granted to the Three Witnesses—only many times more intense. In a very short time, the road between the fountain and the castle was clear of living enemies.

“This way, my valiant knights!” Captain Valithor yelled. “There are legions yet to conquer!”

Nock, Mallik, Farix, and Sir Rogan had seen all that transpired from the bell tower. And when they saw the Witnesses return, they burst from their place of hiding onto the field of battle.

Enemy soldiers swarmed at them by the thousands, but the four soldiers from Alleble did not care. They knew they were not alone. Dragon riders streaked out of the eastern sky and came to light among the fountains. Nock saw a particular Glimpse knight dismount, and he stared. He began to walk, then run, toward this familiar knight.

“Bolt!” he cried. “My brother!” And at long last, the twin archers embraced.

“I am glad to see you again!” said Bolt.

“Since the day you fell in Mithegard, I have missed you,” said Nock.

“And for me it was only the beginning,” said Bolt. “For now I have seen the Sacred Realm—I shall tell you of it before I go!”

“Before you go?” Nock echoed.

“No time now,” Bolt said as he drew a white arrow from his quiver. “Now let us again let our bows sing for the glory of Alleble and King Eliam the Everlasting!”

Bolt let fly his first arrow.

Mallik roared as he brought low a brigade of enemy knights with his mighty hammer. “Hail, hammer-meister!” came a voice at Mallik’s side. He turned and saw a Glimpse in white armor, with great bouncing locks of dark hair and the broadest smile he had ever seen.

“Tal!” Mallik cried. And he saw that running beside his old friend was another familiar face: Matthias. And together, they charged on.

Farix and Sir Rogan too saw old friends as the dragon riders in white armor continued to fill the road. Standing upon the side of one of the fountains, wielding his staff to deadly effect, was Eleazar, the ambassador who fell in Mithegard. Then, there were Tobias with his seasoned walking stick and Sir Gabriel with his two long fighting knives.

Finally, three other Glimpse warriors appeared from a narrow side street near the armory. They were haggard, gouged and scratched with many wounds, and tired beyond exhaustion, but nevertheless, they swept into the fray like a sickle through tall grass.

Warriant’s spears flew into the ranks of enemies. Thrivenbard also felled his share of Paragor Knights. And everyone within a hundred yards of the second fountain heard Sir Valden when he and his axes joined the battle.

Slowly, the white tide overcame the dark. Captain Valithor and the Three Witnesses dispatched the remaining four Sleepers, and then all turned to the balcony.

Paragor whirled his flaming mace and swung it high for the King’s head. But King Eliam moved to the side as if Paragor’s attack had been in slow motion. Paragor’s return strike brought the mace to crush the King’s side, but when the King dodged, the mace’s head stuck momentarily in the balcony wall. King Eliam brought his sword around hard against the flail weapon’s chain. The links broke apart, leaving Paragor with a useless handle.

Paragor growled and drew a long, dark blade from his sheath.

The meeting of
Cer Muryn
and
Charrend
was fierce. Paragor’s sword, black as night, slashed through the air and met with the King’s blade. And indeed it seemed to those who watched from below as if night and day dueled upon the balcony. But it soon became clear that day was the stronger.

“This was to be my hour of triumph!” Paragor shrieked, and he locked swords with the King.

“You looked upon the First Scroll the morning you betrayed me,” King Eliam said. “And tell me . . . what did you see?”

“Arrrggh!” Paragor lifted a foot to the King’s chest and pushed. Their swords separated, and Paragor fell backward, but quickly leaped to his feet.

“Did you think my promises were false?” the King asked. “Or did you think by unleashing my ancient enemies upon The Realm, that you could by force break my word?”

Paragor tried to call for the wolvins, but he could find no echo of their presence. He lashed out with his dark sword, but the King smashed it away. Paragor backed up until he hit the balcony wall.

“But the Scroll of Prophecy!” Paragor screamed. “Your own words!”

“If you were pure of heart,” said the King as he drew within a sword length of his former Sentinel, “you would have understood my words! And you would have understood that by fulfilling the prophecy you only brought doom upon yourself!”