The Final Storm: The Door Within Trilogy – Book Three

A gentle breeze played with Robby’s long blond hair as he stepped out on the bridge. With the Scrolls clutched in one hand, he used the other hand to grip the rope guides and bring his other foot out as well. Slowly, one tentative foot after another, being sure not to look down, he made his way across. But the whole time, his legs were shaking and unsteady. C’mon, Robby! he berated himself. Get a grip. You’re a star athlete. This should be easy!

But it was anything but easy. Sweat poured down his face, his throat dried up, and he felt his stomach twisting in knots. And even though the planks beneath his feet had not even so much as creaked, Robby had a constant, nagging fear that his next step might break a board, and he would fall through . . . fall into nothingness.

He quickened his pace—all the while staring ahead into the haze for some sign of where the bridge might end. It seemed to go on and on, and Robby certainly wasn’t going to try to look back over his shoulder to see how far he’d come.

The wind picked up, and the bridge began to sway. Robby shook so hard he had to stop and crouch down. The wind increased even more, howling and gusting at times. “No!” he cried out, but it was too late. The wind took the Scrolls right out of his hand. He watched them fly away, and then he shut his eyes.

Robby wanted to turn around and run back to the safety of the ledge where he’d begun. Slowly he stood, and the idea came into his mind that if he turned back and made it to the cliff, he could open his eyes and find himself back in the woods near his neighborhood. His old life would still be there waiting.

“But I don’t want that old life,” Robby said aloud. He knew all too well the kind of life it would be. A life of uncertainty, a life of fear—his biological father would see to that, he felt sure. C’mon, Robby, let’s get going.

He took a step. Then another. The wind shrieked and the bridge swayed, but Robby held the guide ropes and coached himself as he pressed on. Four years of gymnastics—I’ve got good balance. Nine years of baseball, football, and soccer—I’ve got the strength.

He felt a subtle change in the incline. The bridge had bottomed out and now began to climb. I’m doing it! Robby thought excitedly. I’m going to make it!

He walked faster, with more confidence, and his hold on the guide ropes wasn’t as severe. He even released his grip a couple of times and walked more casually. The incline steepened, and Robby was so pleased with his efforts that he ventured to look over the side. Just once.

His left foot slid off the side of one of the planks. His right knee buckled, and he fell. All Robby’s worst fears came rushing back. Frantically, he grabbed the left guide rope with both hands. But his hands slipped off.

As his body fell below the bridge, Robby grabbed the planks with both hands. He felt the tendons in his hands protest, and his fingernails felt ready to rip right off the ends of his fingers. But still he hung on.

And with the wind howling, Robby dangled from the bridge, trying desperately to hoist himself up. He managed to get a hand between two planks where he could get a stronger hold. Then, using the strength of his upper back, arms, and shoulders, he pulled one knee up to the edge of the planks. But, try as he might, he could not get his knee or foot over the edge because the wind kept blowing.

His muscles ached. Robby knew he wouldn’t last much longer. So he pulled with all of his athletic might and yanked his body as high as he could. His right knee found purchase, but only for a moment. Robby struggled, trying to heave himself up, but felt himself slipping. “I can’t do this!” he yelled. And then one of his hands slipped off the plank. He let go and fell backward. “King Eliam, help me!” he screamed as his body lost all contact with the bridge.

Robby closed his eyes as he plummeted into the unknown.

A hand found Robby’s hand in midair. The grip was absolutely strong and would not let Robby fall any farther. And as if Robby were made of paper, the hand lifted him up and over the guide ropes and placed him securely in the middle of the bridge.

Robby opened his eyes, but there was no one there. “You are never alone,” a voice said. And behold, the mist ahead of Robby spread apart, and before him—like a solitary monument—stood a door. Robby raced up the remaining planks and seized hold of the door’s large ring. Robby exulted with gratitude, knowing that he had been rescued from his own feeble efforts—rescued and guided at last to The Door Within!

“Thank you! Thank you, my King!” Robby repeated over and over, as the door opened and brilliant light streamed out. It was the glad, golden light of the sun and stars—the very same light that had illuminated the Scrolls and chased away his fears in the dark woods. Robby smiled and entered The Door Within.

PASSAGE

The golden light faded away to a tiny distant point, and a narrow path rolled out like a carpet into the darkness before Robby. Still smiling, he walked up the path, and as he did so, he realized that his senses were behaving strangely. His senses of sight and hearing were dulled, making him feel as if he were underwater. But his sense of touch was alive, and he felt like he could almost feel the texture of the air as it tingled all around him.

Robby held his arms up as he walked, letting the marvelous, peculiar air wash over him. Then the darkness on both sides of him began to flicker. Peculiar blurred images began to appear. Slowly they began to focus.

Dark storm clouds, swirling and brooding, raced overhead. Lightning flashed, shedding eerie flickering light on a sea of armed knights in black armor. This army stretched all the way to the horizon and was as wide as Robby could see. Robby quickened his pace, for he did not want to remain in the midst of such a terrible army. Lightning flashed again. The vision wavered and changed. The storm clouds melted into the deep green canopy of a forest. A great pit opened up in the forest floor, and suddenly the vision took Robby beneath the surface.

A knight appeared there, illuminated by strange gray subterranean light. And before him spread dozens—no, hundreds—of furry brown humps. The humps began to move. They were advancing toward the knight. The knight backed away. As the things grew near, Robby saw a sea of glassy black eyes. Robby turned away from the visions. He kept his eyes on the path as best he could and ran.

In spite of his attempts not to watch, Robby saw images out of the corners of his eyes. The vision flickered and changed again. This time he saw a battle before massive walls of stone. Knights in a great many types and colors of armor fought desperately. Their swords clashed. Arrows flew in swarms.

But suddenly there was something burrowing beneath the knights, and as it traveled it threw great numbers of knights violently into the air. Then, as it neared, Robby caught a glimpse of a large scaly claw reaching out of the crowd of soldiers. Then there were several claws. And each one grabbed a fistful of knights, crushed them, and tossed them aside like broken dolls. Robby felt an unrelenting fear that this creature, whatever it was, was coming after him. He forced himself to look straight ahead, but he could sense the visions begin to speed up—one replacing the next—until it was just a blur.

Robby ran as fast as he could. Just a few feet ahead a shimmering window appeared in the darkness. Robby ran for it and dove, disappearing through the window.