The Final Storm (7 page)
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.
“I am not sure,” Oswyn replied. He opened a large leather satchel. Long gray, feathery weeds spilled out. He snapped them again and again until they fit in his mortar. Then he ground them rapidly with a pestle. The air around him filled with a sharp odor. Sir Oswyn took all the contents of the mortar and poured them into the urn with the Golden Tear. He covered the urn with his hands and shook it.
“King Ravelle, Nock, lift Aelic so that I can make him drink this.”
The King and Mallik carefully sat Aelic up, and Oswyn slowly poured sips of the mixture into Aelic’s mouth. Aelic groaned a little, and he coughed the first mouthful back out, but Oswyn kept pouring. Then Aelic began to swallow.
Suddenly, Aelic’s eyes popped open. “Os?” he whispered.
“Shhh,” Oswyn said. “Drink this. All of it if you can.” Aelic did as he was told, and he drank until the urn was empty. Then they laid him back down.
Aelic’s eyelids fluttered, but they remained open. He looked around. “Father!” he cried. And King Ravelle took his hand. “Father, I am sorry . . . I—”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, my son,” Ravelle said, brushing the damp hair from Aelic’s forehead. “I have heard the tale of how you fought. Valiant, I call you, one who seeks glory for King Eliam the Everlasting.” Aelic smiled.
“Enough talk for now,” Oswyn said, then gently added, “Leave me with my patient.”
There was a spring in Oswyn’s step as he walked into the chamber where King Ravelle, Kaliam, and the others awaited word on Aelic’s condition.
“You may all see him now, but only briefly. He needs his rest,” Oswyn said.
Quietly, they followed Oswyn to Aelic’s bedside.
“Look, his skin is better, nearly restored!” Mallik exclaimed. And behold, Aelic’s skin had lost the gray cast, though it still lacked the vitality of a healthy Glimpse.
“What was that you gave him?” Trenna asked.
“It is an herb called yarrow, or staunchweed in the common tongue,” Oswyn said. “Then I remembered how quickly the Golden Tear restores a knight’s energy, and I thought perhaps it would speed this healing herb to unknown wounds within Aelic.”
“You are brilliant!” Thrivenbard exclaimed.
“We have great need of such wisdom in this room,” Queen Illaria said, and she looked kindly upon Oswyn.
“Do not lavish accolades upon me,” Oswyn replied. “Aelic is improving, and for that we have King Eliam to thank.”
Oswyn went to Kaliam, leaned toward him, and whispered, “The next few hours will tell us much, but I still do not know if I caught it in time.”
“Aelic, lad, you are made of sterner stuff than those trees in Nock’s forest!” Mallik laughed. “To tangle with a Sleeper, and then last for days at the bottom of a pit? I agree with your pa, that was valiant!”
Aelic smiled at Mallik, but then he coughed and winced in pain. “The wolvin was far beyond my skill,” Aelic said. “It brushed me aside like an insect.”
“And if I ever find that wolvin,” Mallik said, “he will pay ten-fold what he did to you, and I will collect with my hammer!”
“Well, it should be easy to recognize it,” Aelic said, closing his eyes. “Before I fell, I saw Gabby take a chunk out of the back of the Sleeper’s neck.”
“I will remember that,” Mallik said.
“Kaliam,” Aelic called. His voice sounded weaker than before. “Kearn took her. He took Antoinette. He said he would take her beyond the Gate of Despair—that she would be tortured.”
Kaliam knelt by Aelic. “Aelic, do not fear,” he said.
“Kaliam, I know she wrongfully left our company, but we cannot abandon her to that dark place and—”
“We will not abandon her, Sir Aelic,” Kaliam assured him. “King Eliam has a plan for her rescue, of this I am certain. And even in that place, she is not alone.”
Aelic turned to look at his father. “What about Mother?” he asked.
“She was in Acacia for a time,” King Ravelle said. And in his voice there dwelled an ancient sorrow. “I have searched there many times, but in vain. I dispatched messengers there before we left Alleble to come here.”
“You were in Alleble?”
“Yes, all of Mithegard dwells there now—safer than being a close neighbor to the enemy!”
“It makes me glad,” Aelic said with a soft chuckle, “. . . even in such a time as this. For the Glimpses who serve the everlasting King should be together. Does it not seem so?”
“Yes, it does, my son. It is now as it always should have been.” King Ravelle looked up at Queen Illaria and shook his head slowly. “How so many, including myself, distanced ourselves from Alleble . . . abandoned Alleble . . . it was folly.”
Aelic nodded, coughed again, and then suddenly clutched at his stomach. He yelled and fell backward. Oswyn was there in a flash. He delicately pressed his fingers at various places on Aelic’s stomach. At one place he paused, felt again, and then he looked up grimly.
“Oswyn?” King Ravelle cried. “What is happening?”
“Mallik, Kaliam, please take King Ravelle outside,” Oswyn said gently, but urgency ran through his words like a current. Kaliam and Mallik firmly escorted King Ravelle from the room.
Some time later, Sir Oswyn and Queen Illaria emerged from the chamber and found Kaliam, Mallik, and King Ravelle sitting along a wide hearth.
“Oswyn!” King Ravelle exclaimed, and they all stood. “How is my son?”
“He is resting,” Os replied. “Aelic had worked himself up, and jostled his wounds before they were healed. A little more yarrow and Golden Tear I gave him, and now he rests.”
