The Door Within: The Door Within Trilogy – Book One

Falon returned in moments—apparently, she had been moving rather cautiously earlier, but with Aidan off her back, she was able to hurtle quickly through the tunnels and caverns beneath the mountains.

“Here is everything you asked for,” Falon said, opening a hefty canvas satchel she had flung around her neck. “One Horn of War, quite loud, for I remember the fellow who carried it blowing it like mad when he saw me! Guaranteed to get the attention you want. One clay pot with a lid, large enough, hmmm? One longbow—it is from the Blackwood, the best there is—and a quiver full of arrows. And, of course, the armor and helmet of a Paragor Knight. It may not fit you just right, but it was the only one I could find that wasn’t fouled or much too big. Oh, and this, I thought you might want a sheath for the sword of Valithor. It is heavy, hmmm?”

Aidan was amazed. “This is great, Falon, really. I can’t thank you enough!” he said excitedly.

“Well, young Aidan,” Falon replied playfully, “it is for Sir Valithor that I do this. But if your plan works out the way you described, you will have paid me back many times over, hmmm? Go now, save your friends! I will be waiting. . . .”

“Good-bye, Falon!” Aidan called after her. “I hope we meet again some day!”

“Perhaps.” Falon’s voice echoed, then faded.

Never alone, Aidan thought as he struggled to strap on the Paragor armor. He felt creepy putting on the black-and-crimson armor of the enemy, and the helmet was plainly too big, but it had to be done for the plan to work. The quiver of arrows slid easily over his shoulders, and the War Horn hung around his neck, but he had to carry the longbow in one hand and the clay pot in the other.

Aidan hopped cautiously out of the cave and down the little hill into the tall grass. Immediately, lantern spiders began to blink all around him. Aidan needed both hands for the clay pot, so he put down his longbow. As fast as he could, he meticulously began plucking the black-and-green arachnids from their webs in the grass and putting them in the clay pot. Aidan had never asked if the things were poisonous, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way.

I wonder if anyone who dies from lantern spider bites would glow in the dark? With such thoughts, he continued brushing through the tall grass, grabbing every lantern spider that gave itself away by lighting up. Fortunately, the lantern spiders were numerous, and in a short time he had the great clay pot stuffed with hundreds of unhappy glowing critters.

With stage one completed, Aidan put the lid on the clay pot, picked up his longbow, and ran as fast as he could for the herd. The enemy’s camp was between Aidan and the blackhorne, so he took a long, curving route to get to the animals. As he ran, the War Horn smacked against his armor on the front, and the quiver of arrows smacked him on the back, and worse still, his helmet kept sliding over one side of his face. Even so, Aidan hurried on.

Aidan could smell the large beasts long before he reached them. It was a mixture of thick animal sweat and tons of freshly deposited manure, and it was not pleasant. He wished he had a third hand to pinch his nose shut.

Blackhorne were similar to cows, Aidan noticed, but much, much bigger. Their coats were jet black and extremely shaggy, and all of them had a set of thick horns that protruded from the sides of their skulls and ran backward to a sharp point.

As Aidan got closer, he was surprised at the size of the herd: There were thousands of blackhorne. And even though they were peacefully munching on the dead grass, they looked dangerous. And Aidan was counting on that!

Aidan ran to where the blackhorne were closest to the camp of the Paragor Knights. There he again put down his longbow and opened the spider-filled clay pot. Swiftly, he took out the spiders, one at a time, and placed them atop the heads of the blackhorne. Most of the big, smelly animals didn’t notice the spiders, though a few snorted and flopped their ears around a little. Aidan repeated the process over and over and over again, until the clay pot was empty and well over a hundred blackhorne had little glowing hitchhikers.

Then, he discarded the clay pot, retrieved his longbow, and circled around behind the herd. There seemed to be enough of the tall dead grass. There would have to be, for there was no time to cut and gather piles of grass—no, this would have to do.

Now begins the most dangerous part of the plan, Aidan thought as he reached down and picked up some mud. He smeared the dark, muddy soil on his face and all over the armor. Then, he drew Fury.

Aidan put the blade to his forearm and gritted his teeth. In one swift motion, he ran the sword across his arm, opening a large gash from which blood began to pour. He let the warm red fluid run down his arm and drip on his clothing, then his armor—he even spattered some on his helmet. The wound on his arm would leave an ugly scar, but it would be a scar Aidan would wear proudly . . . if he survived.

His costume complete, Aidan began the long run back toward the Paragor camp.

“Great King of Alleble,” he said aloud. “Be with me, please, and guide me!”

With only a hundred yards between him and a thousand Paragor Knights, Aidan stopped and took in the deepest breath of nighttime air he could manage. He put the War Horn to his lips and let loose a tremendous blast on the horn. Its sound was a blend of a freight train and a thunderclap, and it echoed off the mountains of the Black Crescent. Again and again, Aidan blew the horn, shattering the quiet of the night.

Then, as Aidan sprinted again toward his enemies, he saw frenzied movement in the camp. He slowed down as he neared the first tent and began to hobble-run, dragging his left leg as if it were broken. Suddenly, a deep voice rang out from the shadows. “Halt! Declare yourself or be shot dead!”

“It’s me, Dreadlock!” Aidan replied, giving the most evil-sounding name he could think of. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I was bringing a message from our master when I was attacked by some scouts from Alleble.”

“What’s this you say?!” exclaimed a huge ironclad Paragor warrior. Many other Paragor Knights were drawing swords and running up to join him.

“I barely escaped with my life,” Aidan explained, trying to deepen his voice. “The armies of Alleble are on the way—thousands and thousands of knights. As I ran, I could see their torches behind me and hear the thunder of their steeds.”

“I see nothing!” complained a short, stocky slant-eyed Paragor Knight. “Where are they?”

“Just over that ridge!” Aidan swallowed hard—they didn’t seem to believe him, so he summoned his courage and lashed out at the Paragor Knights. “Listen, you fools! We can stand around here arguing until they swoop down on us and cut us to shreds! Or we can man the catapults and make ready for battle!”

There was a great murmuring among the knights until, finally, the tall one spoke again. “I don’t see any—wait! There is something there. I see lights, lights in the shadows! We must make haste! Prepare the catapults!” He bellowed, pointing his long sword at the other knights. “Knights of Paragory, draw your blades, dip your arrowheads, for tonight we get to slay the armies of Alleble!”

The moment the order was given, the whole camp erupted in a flurry of activity. Well-armed knights ran every which way—some carrying supplies, others relaying orders, and still others manning their posts at the catapults. All of the knights near Aidan ran off as well—except one: the short, stocky Glimpse.

“You say you came from Paragor himself, bearing a message, eh?” he said, eying Aidan suspiciously. “Well then, what was the message?”

Aidan hadn’t thought that far, but before he could answer, another Paragor Glimpse appeared and ordered the short one away. For the moment, Aidan was left alone and pretty much ignored. Aidan whistled a sigh of relief.

Then, dodging other knights as he went, Aidan started searching. There were boxes and crates everywhere, but so far he didn’t see any barrels. After a brief moment of despair, he realized that the barrels would have to be near the catapults. Aidan ran from catapult to catapult, searching for the barrels he needed.

Finally, Aidan found one. Without hesitation, he drew his sword and poked a hole in the barrel. A thick greenish-brown fluid began to ooze out. Aidan took off his quiver of arrows and began dipping their razor-sharp tips into the oily liquid. He even let about four inches of the stuff pour into the quiver before he put the arrows back into it. Aidan wanted the arrows to soak in as much of the flammable liquid as possible.

The fuel-laden quiver slung over his shoulder again, Aidan ran for the edge of the camp. Hoping no one had seen him, Aidan ducked behind a tent. He took out one of the arrows and fitted it to the string of the longbow. Then, he held the point of the arrow in the flames of a nearby torch. The arrowhead ignited instantly, and Aidan took aim.

He pointed the fiery arrow in the direction of the herds of black-horne. He hoped that the blackwood longbow could fire as far as the twins had claimed. The arrows had to reach the dead grass behind the herd, or the whole plan would fail. Aidan pulled the bowstring back till he thought it might break, and then he released the arrow. It soared high into the night sky and disappeared. Aidan loosed another flaming arrow . . . then another. He fired until he had but one arrow left. He let the arrowhead catch fire from the torch, and he prepared to let it loose, but suddenly, a voice rang out from behind.

“Hold, Dreadlock! What are you doing?”

Aidan spun around, the burning arrow still fitted to the bowstring. To his horror, it was the short, slant-eyed Paragor Knight who had stopped Aidan before.

All Aidan could do was stare—there was no answer he could give to explain why he was shooting flaming arrows into the sky. Then, with the worst timing in history, Aidan’s too-big helmet slid down over half his face and then fell off entirely.

“Wait a sodden minute,” said the brute. “You’re not a Paragor Knight. Why, you’re not even a Glimpse at all!”

The furious Paragor Knight drew his sword and charged at Aidan. There was only one thing Aidan could do. He quickly pulled back the bowstring and shot the flaming arrow right at the warrior’s chest. The knight stopped abruptly and looked at Aidan with strange, questioning eyes. At first Aidan thought he had missed, but then, the Paragor Knight fell forward, flat on his face. On his back was a cruel wound still burning from the fuel that had rubbed off the arrow as it passed through the knight’s body. The burning arrow was stuck firmly in a beam of a nearby catapult.

Aidan stifled the urge to throw up as he stepped over the body and ran out from behind the tent. Now he had to find Gwenne and the others. If he could find them, and if the flaming arrows hit their target, then maybe they would all get out of this. If the arrows didn’t make it, well . . . Aidan thought, they might as well all die together.

Aidan threw the longbow to the ground and drew his sword. Paragor Knights were still rushing about preparing for battle. Aidan tried his best to look like he too was a Paragor Knight doing something to get ready for the attack. He ran from tent to tent, peeking in only briefly, hoping to find Gwenne.

But almost every tent was empty—no sign of Gwenne or the Mithegard Glimpses who had also been captured. Then, he saw it— about fifty yards away, in the center of the camp, were three large tents, and there were still dozens of guards posted around them. That had to be it! Before he could take another step, however, Aidan heard something strange. There was a distant rumbling.

“They’re coming!!” a Paragor Knight yelled.

“The Knights of Alleble are upon us!” another knight screamed, pointing at the horizon.

Aidan turned and looked, and there, with the horizon ablaze with orange, was a massive torch-bearing army. Only Aidan knew that they weren’t knights at all. The arrows had reached the dead grass behind the herd. Now the mass of huge animals, many of them bearing lantern spiders, was stampeding in blind terror of the fire behind them. In moments they would crash into the camp. The plan was working!

Aidan immediately put the War Horn to his lips again and blew several short but deafening bursts. “The Knights of Alleble are too many!” Aidan yelled at the top of his lungs. “Hasten to the caves or we will be overrun!”

Someone nearby joined in. “Yes, run to the caves beneath the mountain! We can defend them better there than we can on this open ground!”

Thunderous sounds filled the air as thousands of blackhorne hooves pounded the earth.

Aidan continued yelling as he ran toward the guarded tent. “We cannot hope to win! The Knights of Alleble will kill us all! Run away! Hide yourselves in the caves! Find holes that you can defend. It’s our only hope!”

The guards around the big tents already had their swords drawn when Aidan arrived. Once again, his helmet had slid down over his face. Aidan quickly adjusted it and began shouting at the guards, “What are you doing? Haven’t you heard? The full army of Alleble is attacking! They’re everywhere—ten thousand more than our force. And they bring upon us a wave of fire!”

The leader of the guard objected, “But what about the prisoners?”

“Let the prisoners burn!” Aidan commanded. “Are they worth your lives? Look!”

The guards turned just in time to see the first wave of blackhorne crashing into their camp! Only in their minds, it was a battalion of fierce Alleb warriors coming for them. Screams of agony arose from the camp’s front lines as many Paragor Knights were trampled and crushed.

Seeing this, the guards bolted away from the tent, heading directly for the caves!

Aidan looked up as well, and he realized with horror that his plan had a major flaw: He, Gwenne, and the other prisoners were right in the path of the stampeding blackhorne!

Knowing he could be trampled at any moment, Aidan ran to the tent and ducked inside. There, bound and gagged, were Gwenne and five Mithegard Knights.

The King of Mithegard was not one of them. Aidan wasn’t sure if he should cry for joy or sorrow, but he knew there was no time for either. He took his sword and cut the bindings off Gwenne and the others.

“Sir Aidan!” Gwenne shouted, spitting out her gag. “Praise the King! I thought you were dead!”

“Not dead yet!” Aidan barked. “But if we don’t get out of here, we all may be killed. There’s a huge stampede of blackhorne heading right for us! We need to get to the caves beneath the mountains!”

“Blackhorne?” Gwenne said, staring at Aidan.

“Where are the other Glimpses from Mithegard?” Aidan asked.

“There are nearly seventy spread throughout the big tents.”

“So few?”

“Many were killed on our journey,” Gwenne said through grit- ted teeth. “They were dragged and trampled to death.”

“We’ll save all we can,” Aidan said. “We’ve got to go, now!”

The seven of them ran out of the tent into a chaos even worse than the slaughter at Mithegard. Enormous blackhorne were running wildly everywhere, stomping and crushing. Many Paragor Knights had already been killed, but those who were still alive were fleeing toward the mountains.

It was no trouble finding swords for Gwenne and the five Mithegardian Glimpses. Weapons littered the ground. Together they went from tent to tent, slashing the bindings and releasing the prisoners. At last, they could find no more.

“All the Paragor Knights are heading to the caves,” Gwenne said anxiously. “We can’t go there!”

“Yes we can!” Aidan replied. “It’s a long story, but we don’t have any choice. There are over a thousand blackhorne heading our way, and behind them is a raging fire—look!”

Gwenne looked at the horizon and saw the orange glow. She also saw the dark tide of terror-stricken beasts still crashing into the camp. Without another word, Aidan, Gwenne, and the others sprinted toward the caves. The blackhorne bounded by them on both sides, several times knocking one or more of them to the ground. They continued on, following the hundreds of Paragor Knights fleeing frantically toward the caves.

At last they bounded up the slight hill and over the lip of the cave entrance. Aidan swiftly led Gwenne and the others to a corner of one of the caves where he thought they could safely wait. They waited and watched as hundreds more Paragor Knights poured in through the many cave openings. The Paragor Knights were so frightened that they didn’t even notice Aidan, Gwenne, and the other Mithegard Knights. They ran for cover, to save their own necks.

Row after row of Paragor Knights entered the caves and disappeared in Falon’s endless tunnels. Their screams echoed everywhere as they ran, but for some of the Paragor Knights, their screams stopped abruptly . . . for Falon had come upon them in the dark.