A group of no less than twelve heavily armed Paragor Knights dragged Aidan through the wreckage en route to the castle. As Aidan was pulled into Alleble, his hope was shattered by what he saw: The thoroughfare of Alleble, once grand and sparkling, was now littered with the dead. The steady, peaceful rush of the fountains was destroyed by shrill cries from the wounded and the weeping of those who mourned. Several of the fountains ran red.
Fires burned out of control, engulfing blocks of Glimpse homes in flames. At least four of the Seven Sleepers still remained, and they rampaged unchecked, smashing into cottages, killing the families within for food or for sport. Alleble’s once proud standing army had been reduced to pockets of resistance presently being surrounded by Paragor’s forces. Smoke rose from the parapets of the Castle of Alleble, and Paragor’s forces roamed freely upon its battlements.
“Lord Rucifel found where they were all hidden away,” one of the knights whispered to another. “There are catacombs beneath the castle—crammed full of women and children!”
“Really?” said another. He whistled. “What is the master going to do with them all?”
The first knight laughed. “Those who know what is good for them will see things our way! The others are to be burned, I expect . . . or fed to the wolves!”
“Let that be a warning to you!” One of the knights smacked Aidan on the back of the head. “When you get your chance, join the victorious army!”
“He is already dressed for the part!” chided another. They laughed raucously. Aidan’s head flopped to the side, and he saw the world of horrors.
As they passed the second fountain, Aidan’s eyes met just for a moment with the dead eyes of a soldier of Alleble. He was draped awkwardly over the fountain pool wall, his pale face streaked with blood. Aidan blinked and looked away. It was Kindle. Aidan saw one more thing before the enemy dragged him into the Castle of Alleble. It was the last fountain, dry and empty.
They took Aidan to a cell beneath Guard’s Keep. There was a heavy clank as a bolt slid free, and they shoved Aidan into the dark cell. He sprawled facedown, pushed himself up with his left hand, and then flopped onto his back. His right wrist was on fire, his body ached, and his thoughts were dark and dreary like the cell. He reached suddenly under his armor. The scrap of the Scroll of Prophecy was still there. It was the only hope Aidan had left.
The Paragor Knights had scoured the catacombs beneath the Castle of Alleble. But not carefully enough.
Kaliam and Lady Merewen crept stealthily through a chamber door, but froze when they heard a scraping sound. “Faethon?” Kaliam whispered.
“No,” a voice came from the shadows. “It is Naysmithe. This way.”
Kaliam and Lady Merewen followed the sound of his voice down a long, dimly lit corridor and eventually came face-to-face with the second Sentinel of the land. “Follow me,” he said. And he led them through twists and turns of stone that they had not traveled before. They came at last to a place where the passage seemed to end. Naysmithe ran his hand along a seam in the stone. They heard a faint click, and then the wall swung inward as if on a hinge. Naysmithe shut the hidden door behind them and said, “Wait here.”
Kaliam and Lady Merewen were left in the dark, but Naysmithe returned with a candle and led them farther inside. They found a small dusty room with a tower of square wooden shelves, each filled with piles of scrolls. There was an austere wooden desk adorned with only a quill pen and a dark bottle of ink. There was also a bench that drew the eye because upon it was the only thing in the room not covered in dust or cobwebs. There lay an intricate tapestry of Alleble’s seal, the sun rising between the peaks of Pennath Ador. But it was clearly covering something . . . something longish with unusual humps at either end.
“You were looking for the mortiwraith?” Naysmithe asked, raising a dark eyebrow flecked with gray. “He is yet undiscovered.”
“Good, yes!” said Kaliam. “We need him to help us. The Three Witnesses, Aidan, Antoinette, and Robby, are captured and—”
“And awaiting trial before Paragor,” Naysmithe finished the sentence. “Yes, I know of Paragor’s plans. It is all his servants talk about, carelessly, for they know not who might be listening.” Naysmithe grinned.
“What is this place?” Lady Merewen asked.
“It is a sanctuary for my studies,” Naysmithe replied. “And given recent events, it has also become a convenient place for me to wait.”
“Well, the time of waiting is over, my friend,” Kaliam said. “We must get Faethon and free the Witnesses. I believe that Mallik, Farix, and—”
“In vain!” Naysmithe interrupted. “You will not free the Three Witnesses. They will free you.”
“What?” Kaliam exclaimed. “Aidan, Antoinette, and Robby are held in a cage beneath Guard’s Keep—we must rescue them. Alleble has no hope without them!”
“Alleble’s only hope is to let the Three Witnesses do what they must do.”
“We cannot just wait and do nothing,” Lady Merewen objected.
“That is precisely what we must do,” Naysmithe replied enigmatically. “Turn and see what I have here. The last took me some time—I barely finished before Paragor’s attack began.”
Naysmithe turned, held up the candle, and lifted the tapestry. Kaliam and Lady Merewen gasped.
Aidan heard a groan from the shadows across the cell. Some flickering light filtered in through the cell door, and a band of gray came from the barred window high in the center of the cell wall. “Is someone there?” Aidan asked. He was not afraid.
“Aidan?” A pained whisper, but Aidan felt sure he knew the voice.
“Antoinette?” he called. He heard something slide, the grate of metal on stone, and then Antoinette walked into the gray light. Aidan ran to her and they embraced. “Oww!” Aidan yelped. “My wrist. I think it’s broken.”
“I’m sorry, Aidan!” Antoinette said, but then she made a noise something like a laugh. “It seems like every time we get together . . . you get hurt.”
“So you caused this whole war, then?” Aidan said, and then he laughed too.
Antoinette smiled, but tears glimmered and ran down her cheek. “Aidan, what are we going to do?”
Aidan shook his head. “Where’s Robby?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” she replied. “The last time I saw him . . . he was fighting by the armory and—”
“And that’s where I got myself captured.” Robby’s voice came out of the shadows. He came into the light. His face was void of emotion. Aidan and Antoinette hugged him and then pulled away.
“So were you going to just sit there, hiding in the dark?” Aidan asked.
“What were you doing?” Antoinette asked.
“I was thinking,” Robby replied, but he did not elaborate and would not make eye contact.
“Robby, are you all right?” Aidan asked.
“What, are you kidding?” Robby exclaimed. “No, I’m not all right, and neither are you. Look around. We’re stuck in a cell in the city we were supposed to defend. So many died, Aidan. And . . . I don’t know where Trenna is.”
“Trenna Swiftfoot?” Antoinette asked.
Robby nodded. “She was one of the dragon riders,” he said sadly. “But the Wyrm Lord knocked them all out, and . . . she is my friend, and I let her down.”
“Robby, I don’t know if Trenna survived,” Antoinette said. “But you were fighting for Alleble! You were serving King Eliam, doing just what you were meant to do.”
“What I was meant to do?” Robby stared at Antoinette incredulously. “You mean that chosen one stuff? So much for that—we’re caught! How’re we supposed to save the day down here?”
Aidan and Antoinette were speechless.
Robby stomped away and looked up at the window. “Any idea what time it is?” he asked.
“No,” Aidan replied. “With that storm and the Wyrm Lord’s breath, I don’t even know what day it is—much less the time . . . why?”
“He told me we will stand trial in the morning,” Robby replied.
“Stand trial?” said Antoinette.
“Who told you?” Aidan asked.
Robby ran his fingers through his hair. “Paragor.”
“You talked to Paragor?” Aidan exclaimed.
Robby nodded. “I followed one of the Sleepers into the armory, but it was a setup. Paragor was in there waiting. That’s how I got caught.”
Aidan had a feeling there was more to the story than Robby was sharing. “What did you mean by us standing trial?”
“Paragor said we’re each going to stand before him—in front of everyone—and then we have to make a decision.”
“The Scroll of Prophecy!” Antoinette whispered.
Aidan reached under his breastplate and retrieved the ancient segment of the parchment. “This is a piece of it,” Aidan said. “The end of it, but I can’t remember it all. Something like . . . ‘When the Witnesses decide, ancient deeds will be undone . . .’”
“‘Former deeds will be undone,’” Antoinette corrected. “‘The Seven Swords may be unveiled. Worlds once divided become one.’”
Aidan looked at Robby. “You know what we have to decide, don’t you?”
Antoinette answered first. “I do,” she said. “Kearn told me. He said we either have to give up our allegiance to King Eliam and serve Paragor or—”
“Or he’ll kill us,” Robby whispered. The cell became as silent as a tomb, and the three friends stared at the window.
“Stop pushing!” Mallik groaned as Nock squeezed by him through the trapdoor into the loft of the bell tower. “There is no more room! You will give us all away!”
“If I do not,” Nock whispered harshly, “then you certainly will! Lower that voice, hammer-meister.”
“What do you see?” Sir Rogan asked.
“There is a gathering upon the balcony,” Nock said. “But it is still too dark to see what they are doing.”
“What about on the ground?” Farix asked.
“Many soldiers—thousands,” Mallik said. “They surround the fountain and . . . oh, by the King’s grace, no.”
“What?” demanded Farix, but Mallik and Nock were silent. “I cannot bear this,” Farix said, and he yanked Nock down and forced his way into the trapdoor opening.
When he saw what was happening, Farix said, “No . . . not again.”
“Aidan, I don’t know if I can do this.”
Aidan stared at his friend and pity tore at his heart. Robby stood there trembling, pleading like a lost child. “I know it’s hard, Robby,” Aidan said. “But King Eliam called us, he gave us a mission, and promised us we’d never be alone. We can’t turn our ba—”
“Where is he now?” Robby asked, his voice rising, becoming more agitated. “We need him right now. King Eliam, where—are—you?!” Robby smashed his fist against the wall, and his head fell despondently.
Antoinette drew near and put a hand on his shoulder. But Robby shrugged it off and yelled, “He’s going to kill us! You know that? He’ll make an example of us and slaughter us like cattle. And for what, Aidan? Pride that we stood our ground?”
“It’s more than that,” Aidan whispered. “The Scroll says—”
“You’re willing to die for a piece of parchment?” Robby shrieked.
“No,” Aidan replied, and now he grew angry. “But I am willing to die for the one who spoke the words in it! King Eliam has a plan through this . . . a plan for good.”
“What good can come of us dying?” Robby demanded. “This is death, Aidan. This is real. Any minute now, they’re gonna come for us, and we’re all going to die.”
“So be it!” Aidan shouted. He charged up to Robby. “If I’m going to die, I for one want to die justly with the praises of the true King on my lips!”
Aidan continued to hold Robby with his eyes for a moment. Then he turned and walked away.
“But, Aidan . . .” Robby’s voice was thin and scared, but quiet. “If he kills us, it’s over.”
“No,” whispered Antoinette. And this time when she put her hand on Robby’s shoulder, he did not shrug it off. “No, it will not be over. We will go to the Sacred Realm Beyond the Sun. And there . . .” She paused, tears welling in her eyes. Robby turned to look at her. “There we will be welcomed by all the faithful servants of Alleble who have gone before us.”
“Trenna?” Robby whispered.
Antoinette nodded. “And there we will finally have answers to all the questions that haunt our minds.”
“You mean,” Robby said, “you have questions too?”
Antoinette burst out laughing through her tears, and she hugged him. “Of course I do,” she cried. “We all do.” And then Aidan was there. And they held one another for a long moment.
But soon after, heavy footfalls approached. The cell door swung open. The doorway and the hall beyond were choked with soldiers. They rushed in, grabbed Robby, and roughly drew him from the chamber. The cell door slammed shut, and they heard Robby’s fearful voice. “Aidan . . .”
Aidan cried out, “Never alone, Robby!” And then a guard shoved Aidan hard into the shadows of the cell.
“This is madness,” said Kaliam, looking up both sides of the torchlit hall. “We will be caught.”
“Do you see anyone in this corridor?” Naysmithe asked.
“No,” Kaliam replied.
“And you will not for some time,” Naysmithe said, waving them to follow. “Paragor and his lot have gone to the balcony.”
“The balcony?” Lady Merewen asked. She turned to Kaliam, and his eyes widened with sudden recognition. But Lady Merewen was still confused. “If Paragor is going to the balcony, then . . . where are we going?”
“To the Library of Light,” Naysmithe replied with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“But The Stones of White Fire,” Kaliam said. “We can pass, but Lady Merewen will not be able to.”
“She will today,” Naysmithe replied, and ambled ahead of them at great speed.
“But why are we going to the Library of Light?” she called after him.
His voice drifted back like the echo of a memory. “We go to witness the dawn.”
Aidan and Antoinette waited in darkness and in silence for what seemed like an eternity until, at last, they heard again the sounds of marching feet. They stared into each other’s eyes even as the guards took hold of Antoinette. She did not utter a word, but a gleam in her eyes and the peaceful expression on her face spoke volumes to Aidan.
The cell door slammed shut, and Aidan stood alone in the center of the room. “Believin’ in something is a special thing, my boy.” Grampin’s voice came back to Aidan. “It can be risky ’cause if ye believe in something, ye stand up for it . . . ye fight for it . . .” He smiled, remembering his wheelchair-bound grandfather helping him to understand. It all seemed so long ago. Finding the Scrolls in the basement, being welcomed to Alleble by Gwenne, the adventure in Mithegard and beyond. So much had changed.
Aidan reached beneath his breastplate and once again removed the small segment of the Scroll of Prophecy. He looked at the old words, transcribed by Zabediel but spoken by the one true King. Aidan smiled and spoke then to King Eliam. He spoke aloud, saying things he had always wanted to say to his King. And though he never heard the familiar voice in reply, Aidan knew he was not alone in that cell.
“It is time,” came a voice at the cell door. Aidan turned as if from a dream and saw the soldiers standing there.
“Come on, then!” demanded a guard. “Get moving!”
“Here now,” said another, pointing at Aidan. “He has on our armor still! I will be bound if some Alleb spy will stand before the master in the garb of Paragory!” The guard disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a bundle of clothes and a pile of tarnished armor. “Put these on . . . spy!”
It wasn’t easy with his injured wrist, but Aidan changed. The tunic and breeches were stained and tattered and stank in the worst way. The armor was tarnished, gouged, and crusted with dried blood. Even so, Aidan thought it was an improvement. He turned his back to the guards and tucked the scrap of parchment beneath his new breastplate.
They bound his hands and led him from the cell along endless passages and winding stairs until they came to a familiar door above Guard’s Keep. The knights opened the door and waited. Aidan stepped through and found himself on the balcony beneath the still churning clouds. Rows of Paragor Knights stood there, but they parted, making way for Aidan.
They led Aidan forward between the soldiers, between torches that waved in the wind. Then they forced him to kneel.
Before Aidan, at the balcony wall, stood a tall warrior. His back was turned, but from the billowing burgundy cape and proud stance, Aidan knew who it was. He turned in that moment and spoke to a guard. “Unbind his hands. He is no danger to us now.” The knights cut his bonds, and Aidan absently rubbed his throbbing wrist.
Paragor’s long gray hair was drawn back, and a black circlet—like a thin crown—rested above his strong brow and penetrating hazel eyes. He stared as if measuring Aidan. And when he spoke, Aidan heard a very different voice than he had heard on the hill when Falon had brought them to assail Paragor.
“You have fought valiantly, Sir Aidan,” he said, his voice noble and kingly—above all else to be trusted. It was the voice Aidan remembered from a vision long ago, but still there was an allure—a draw that compelled Aidan to listen. “I do not think on you as an enemy, for though your goals and ambitions were in contrast to my own, I cannot fault your passion, your resolve, or your skill at arms. You were a worthy adversary, and now . . . you shall be a worthy ally.”
Aidan went to speak, but Paragor held up a hand and Aidan’s mouth snapped shut.
“Though many would counsel me otherwise, Sir Aidan, I will make you the same offer I made your companions.” Aidan turned slowly and saw two knights facedown not far from where he knelt. Blood pooled beneath them and they lay unnaturally still. Aidan knew them, and many things ran through his mind as he looked upon them. He choked back tears, but he felt a great swelling of pride most of all. Antoinette, Robby—they had done it. They had made the right decision.
Looming proudly over the bodies was a dark knight brandishing his twin blades, Lord Rucifel. He wore a dark helmet in the shape of a dragon’s head, and from the darkness of that mask eyes flashed red.
“In spite of my generosity,” Paragor continued, “they chose the weaker path.” Aidan looked questioningly back to the warrior before him.
“They have lost,” he said, clasping his hands before his chest. “But their loss is your gain. You will have all that was to be theirs and so much more.”
The warrior seemed to grow. His presence intensified. And when he spread apart his hands, Aidan saw visions of grand towers, high thrones, and vaults of gold. It was all there for the asking, Aidan knew.
“Look about you,” he continued. “All that you have defended is lost. There is nothing left.”
Aidan turned and saw desolation. Everywhere were fallen towers, rent walls, charred debris, and broken bodies. The sky was black, but roiling with dark clouds and smoke from a thousand fires.
“Stand . . . come closer,” Paragor said. “There is so much more to see.”
Aidan slowly stepped to the balcony wall, and following Paragor’s gesture, he looked down into the fountain below. Aidan wept.
For in the fountain, immersed up to their waists in ugly black oil, were more than a hundred Glimpse men, women, and children. “They are traitors of my kingdom,” Paragor declared. “But at your command, I will make them free.”
Aidan stared into the fountain at the pale, trembling forms, and he began to despair. But then he saw a face he recognized among those in the fountain. It was King Ravelle, the Glimpse of his father. But next to him was a swordmaiden with large brown eyes that glinted blue. Aidan smiled, seeing the Glimpse of his mother and knowing at last that she believed. They looked up at Aidan, and there was no fear in their eyes. They nodded to Aidan’s unspoken question.
Paragor drew Aidan away from the balcony wall and said, “You see? By the Scroll of Prophecy, the very words of Eliam, I have won the throne! All is mine to command. All is mine to offer.
“All you must do,” said Paragor, and his voice became a gravelly whisper, “is deny the one who abandoned you. Deny King Eliam here before all these who witness.”
Aidan looked over at the bodies of his friends. A profound wave of peace washed over him, and he looked steadily into Paragor’s eyes. They glinted red and were greedy with expectation.
At last, Aidan spoke calmly. “I will never deny my King!”
The dark knight came forward with his two swords, but his master held up a hand. “I’ll do it myself,” Paragor said. His hazel eyes flared red as he drew a long, dark sword. Aidan reached into his armor just as Paragor drove the blade through Aidan’s breastplate.
