The Door Within (11 page)
“On the last day of every month, all of the Glimpses of Alleble go to the Fountains to celebrate . . . and remember.”
“Gwenne, why are only six of the fountains working?” Aidan asked, pointing to the fountain nearest their castle. It was empty and dry.
Gwenne bowed her head and looked away from the window. “Do you not know?”
“No, I just—” He snapped his mouth closed as it hit him like a thunderbolt. That fountain was
the fountain
—the fountain where the Elder Guard and their families were held captive by the treasonous knights who served Paragal the Sentinel.
But Aidan was confused. Paragal had promised to release them if King Eliam allowed himself to be sacrificed in their place.
Aidan turned to ask, but a very tall, armor-clad Glimpse entered the room.
This knight carried a gigantic, gleaming silver tray full of covered dishes and placed it gently before Aidan.
“Good day, m’lady,” he said, greeting Gwenne and bowing low.
“Good day, Sir Knight,” she courteously replied. “How goes the training?”
The Alleb Knight looked suspiciously at Aidan for a moment.
“You may speak freely, Sir Galorin. He is here by the King’s own invitation.”
“Prithee, forgive my mistrust, m’lad,” he said, bowing to Aidan. “For these are such days as require careful speech.”
“Uh . . . no problem,” Aidan muttered, a little surprised that an adult would bow to him. Alleble seemed pretty cool, so far.
Aidan looked at the tray and then questioningly up at Gwenne. She nodded, so at once he began lifting the lids of each dish. The first platter contained a pile of the succulent purple fruit he had eaten on the mountain ledge. He eagerly grabbed one and took a bite that would put a shark to shame.
His mouth full of sweet goodness, Aidan continued exploring the platter with his free hand. Under the next lid was a roasted leg of something—Aidan didn’t want to know what—but it was huge, bigger by itself than a whole Thanksgiving turkey. The giant leg-thing was garnished with purple flowers and literally surrounded by a bed of light blue flakes of various sizes.
Aidan thought about covering it back up, but Gwenne was watching him. Finicky eater that he was, he couldn’t turn up his nose with Gwenne there. Using a small knife and a two-tined fork, Aidan carved a piece of meat off the gigantic drumstick and plopped it into his mouth. He chewed slowly at first, trying to determine the flavor. He found it salty and savory, very much to his liking and somewhat familiar.
“Mmmm . . . ,” he said. “Tastes like chicken!”
In another dish, he found what appeared to be blue and white diamonds. When he touched the gleaming jewels, however, they were not rigid and hard like the stones they resembled. Instead, they were soft and pliable like taffy.
Aidan had no idea what they would taste like, but he was too hungry to care. He picked a blue one out of the bowl and had it just inches from his mouth when Gwenne grabbed his hand.
“A solid druble in your belly would make you most unhappy,” she said. Then, she dropped the jewel into a glass of clear water and placed an unusual three-spouted lid on top. Instantly, the jewel began to fizz. Bubbles of every color of the rainbow began to shoot out from all sides of it, and the glass swirled with a tornado of color.
“Now,” Gwenne announced. “Put your mouth on the long spout and your fingers in the two little ones.”
Aidan reluctantly did as he was told and then looked up at Gwenne as if to say, “Now what?” “Slowly, take one finger out of one of the spouts.” Aidan knew something was going to happen. He could see and hear the liquid fizzing away furiously in the glass. But when he took one finger out of a spout, his eyes went wide in total surprise. The glass became warm in his hand, and the heated beverage shot into his mouth. But unlike a normal drink, which you swish around in your mouth before swallowing, little droplets of this stuff bounced and ricocheted around until every last taste bud was in flavor paradise! Aidan liked it so much that he took his other finger out of the other spout to increase the flow.
“No, Aidan, not ye—” Gwenne cautioned . . . too late!
The sweet drink roared into Aidan with such pressure that he had to pull the spout out of his mouth to keep his cheeks from exploding.
The liquid had nothing holding it back, so it shot like a geyser out the window behind Aidan.
Someone on the street below yelled, and Aidan could only imagine what must have occurred.
The tall Glimpse, the one Gwenne had called Galorin, howled with laughter. Gwenne looked as if she was struggling mightily to hold back. All Aidan could do was turn fifteen shades of red and watch the glass empty.
As the last of the drink shot out of the spouted glass, Aidan laughed nervously and shrugged. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Gwenne nodded and smiled at Aidan, and then glared at Galorin, who quickly contained himself. Aidan felt as foolish as he’d ever felt, but he was still extremely hungry. Shrugging again, he turned back to his meal.
While Aidan noisily gobbled up the unusual meal, Sir Galorin updated Gwenne on matters concerning the Kingdom.
“I am afraid we may be preparing too late, m’lady. The Knights of Paragory are massing even as we speak. Our dragons have counted at least four different Paragor messengers leaving the Gate of Despair. The Prince, it would seem, has a great interest in the loyalties of Mithegard.”
“And why should he not?” asked Gwenne bitterly. “There are only tens of thousands of undecided Glimpses there for his misguiding.”
“Agreed,” said Galorin, gritting his teeth.
“When will the twelve be ready for the journey to Mithegard?” asked Gwenne.
“Eleven are ready now, but we are waiting for the King to choose the Twelfth Knight.”
At that, Gwenne turned slightly to Aidan, who was sloppily gobbling down a dessert that looked more or less like a hot dog made of chocolate and whipped cream.
“Sir Galorin, the King
has
chosen the Twelfth Knight,” Gwenne began, gesturing toward Aidan. “It is the lad you see here before us.”
Aidan stared at Gwenne, and his dessert slipped from his fingers and hit the table with a splat.
The lad whose face was covered with cream would be the Twelfth Knight.
G
wenne led Aidan down a long spiral flight of stairs in one of the castle’s main towers. “If we are to make an Alleb Knight out of you,” she said, “we must have you dressed for the occasion.”
“How am I supposed to be a knight?” he asked. His voice bounced with each footfall. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here!”
“I already told you. You were called to Alleble by the King.”
“But, Gwenne!” Aidan complained. “This can’t be right! Maybe, maybe the King called me by mistake.”
Gwenne stopped abruptly. “King Eliam does not make mistakes,” she said.
Aidan sat down hard on the stairs. He buried his head in his hands. “I’m not a Glimpse. I don’t really belong here, do I?”
Gwenne sat next to Aidan and put a pale hand on his shoulder. “Be of good courage, Aidan. You belong here just as I belong. The Scrolls you received are but a small part of the history of our Kingdom. It is also
your
history now.”
Aidan looked up, eyes red around the lids, blinking.
“But how did the history of Alleble end up in Colorado or even the United States, for that matter?” Aidan asked. “It’s even in the bookstores!”
“The history of Alleble is indeed well known to many where you come from, though not enough. You see, long ago in an age before time, our worlds were one and the same. But not long after, there was a great disturbance,
The Schism
, we call it, and our realms divided. The history of Alleble survived because over the centuries it was passed down through generations. Many people believed and became a part of Alleble once again. New scrolls were written and sent by the King to the faithful. But as time passed in your realm, Aidan, men grew wise in their own minds. Science, reason, and . . . what do you call it? . . . Psychology? These things beguiled the hearts of generations of people. Fewer and fewer chose to believe. The Betrayer is yet powerful and does all that he can to blind and deceive, so that no one will believe. Perhaps that is why so many have
The Story
of Alleble but deem it as nothing more than . . . a fairy tale.”
Fairy tale
hung in the air ominously. Aidan stared at the steps. He remembered his father using those exact words to describe the scrolls.
“I am truly thankful to the King,” Gwenne continued, “that you accepted and trusted the promises within The Scrolls of Alleble. It was a step of faith to enter The Door Within, believing a story that most in your world would deem foolishness.”
“When I believed,” Aidan said, “I didn’t know that . . . that I’d end up so involved.”
“Aidan, that is how it goes with us all. King Eliam often chooses the brokenhearted, the lonely, and the cast aside. He will make something great of you. I know he will.”
Gwenne said that with such unshakeable confidence that Aidan felt his burden lifted. “I still have questions,” he said.
“Questions are permissible—encouraged, actually—for in time, all questions will have answers. But come, let us go to the armory, for you need battle gear.”
“Battle gear?” Aidan exclaimed. “What are we going to do, start a war?”
“A war has already begun, Aidan, and the King has called you to be an important part of a battle that must be won.”
“What can I do?” Aidan pleaded. “I can’t fight. I even had a middle schooler beat me up once!”
“When Captain Valithor is finished with you, I should think you would have little trouble with a whole legion of middle schoolers!” She laughed. “Besides, the battle we shall fight will be better fought with truth and not swords.”
“I don’t even know who we’re fighting—or what for!” Aidan complained, beginning to feel that he was in this up to his ears, whether he liked it or not. Gwenne stood and motioned for Aidan to do likewise.
Her golden brow furrowed. She seemed hesitant to tell Aidan something or was searching for the right words. “You read the Scroll of
The Great Betrayal
?”
Aidan nodded. “But my Scroll ended after King Eliam died.”
“There is much to tell from that point, but my heart is too weak to speak of what happened next. And I am not the one who can best recount the events that followed. But what you should know is that Paragal was exiled, he and all who followed him, banished to the westernmost regions of The Realm. And, as the King declared, Paragal’s name was changed to Paragor, which means ‘pure light, stained forever dark.’
“The land where Paragor dwells now is a ruinous place. He pretends it is his own kingdom and calls it Paragory. He even built his own jagged black stronghold in mockery of the castle in which we now stand. He has raised an immense army that grows malignantly in the dungeons and catacombs beneath his dark lair. It is a realm of blood, Aidan, and Paragor’s strength grows daily. Bloody conquest after bloody conquest. But in spite of all this, Paragor festers upon his black throne. Ever he yearns to be King, but even his own followers will not call him by that title. A power greater than his will not permit it. So, instead, they call him Prince.”
Aidan swallowed. He remembered the poor souls being dragged through the dark gates. And he had been so close to joining them.
Gwenne began descending the stairs again. Aidan followed.
“So are we supposed to attack Paragor?”
“Not exactly, though our forces clash regularly. Our battle is of a different sort. You see, from the time of his exile, the Prince and his Paragor Knights have sought to gain the allegiance of all the other kingdoms of this world. Many Glimpses have accepted his cunning offers of wealth and power, turning away from the only true King. There is even now a kingdom the Prince eyes to be a new jewel in his crown of slavery. It is a land called Mithegard. Once your training is complete, we will travel to Mithegard to reach their Glimpses for the King.”
“I still don’t see what good I’ll do.” Aidan sighed audibly.
“Aidan, I have already told you, the King does not make mistakes. It may be that there is value within you that he can see—even when you cannot. So it is with all whom he has called.”
Aidan smiled. The idea of someone believing in him made him feel a few inches taller, though still there were many doubts.
“Back home, I have this friend, Robby. Now, he’s the kinda guy you want for this kind of thing. He lives for adventure. I . . . I don’t think he’s afraid of anything.”
Gwenne frowned at Aidan. “I do not doubt that your friend is considered brave in your world, Aidan. But there are things here in Alleble that might give him a start.”
Aidan smirked. He knew Robby better. He imagined what Robby might say. “Me afraid? Ri-ight!”
“Besides,” Gwenne continued, “it is easy to be fearless when one has not yet learned what he has to lose.”
As they traveled through the castle, from stairway to corridor, from corridor to keep, Aidan pondered the meaning of all that Gwenne had told him. It was mysterious and frightening. What had Gwenne meant by learning what he had to lose? And being in a war? What good would a short, cowardly teenager be in the midst of a huge war?
But there was also a sense of excitement. Gwenne had said that he was to become the Twelfth Knight. A real knight, with a real sword, on a very real adventure. His thoughts were interrupted as they passed through the massive stone fortress Gwenne had called the main keep and entered a great domed hall: They were in the Armory of Alleble.
The room was alive with light, for beams from the glass dome above found many polished objects on which to sparkle. Racks and crates of helmets, breastplates, and shields gleamed all around. Some of the shields were emblazoned with vivid designs. Aidan remembered from social studies class that medieval knights often decorated their shields with objects and colors symbolizing their kingdom or family. A lion on a shield might indicate the courage of the knight. Or a galloping horse might mean speed. Aidan spied shields illustrated with dragons, trees, unicorns—one even had a butterfly on it. What a butterfly symbolized, Aidan could not guess. He just hoped that wasn’t the shield they gave to rookie knights! He imagined the laughter that might be directed at a knight charging into battle bearing upon his shield the fierce butterfly!
