The Rise of the Wyrm Lord (The Door Within Trilogy Book 2)

The rush of the falling water filled the night with its steady hypnotic song. A light mist from six of the seven fountains fell upon the twelve as they rode past. Torchbearing guards saluted and raised the first and second gates. Led by Kaliam, the travelers passed beyond the safety of Alleble’s grand walls and into the silent, waiting night.

Antoinette’s thoughts lingered on the cold, dry stone of the seventh fountain. The vision she’d had there would not soon leave her thoughts. The fountain still seemed to call to her from the shadows.

“Will it always remain dry?” Antoinette asked Aelic, who rode beside her.

“Perhaps. Only King Eliam can say,” Aelic replied. He glanced back at the barren fountain. “Our craftsmen have found no defect in its design which would hinder the flow of water from the springs below. But ever since the night of the Betrayal, the fountain has remained empty.”

The unicorns seemed restless outside the walls of the city. Kaliam rode just ahead and turned. “Do you feel the tension in your steeds?” he called out. “They are spoiling to ride! I say let us give them their wish.”

With a cheer of camaraderie Kaliam raised his broadsword high. The air filled with blades. Fury and the Daughter of Light were among them.

“To Yewland, we ride!” Kaliam roared. “For King and Kingdom!”

“Hurrah!!” his team responded.

Kaliam’s unicorn needed no other prompt or spur. It bore Kaliam away as if by a sudden wind. The other knights thundered after him.

“Try to keep up,” Aelic said to Antoinette. He winked and was gone.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Antoinette called after him. “Rael, go!” And the unicorn surged forward.

Aelic’s steed was no slowcoach. Antoinette could see the beast’s white flanks far ahead. But Rael would not be left behind. With Antoinette urging Rael on, she overtook Aelic and grinned as she passed. “It must be that I am lighter in the saddle!” she called out to him. Aelic pretended to glower for a moment, but then began to laugh.

The spirit of adventure swelling in each of them, the twelve raced on through the early morning darkness. Their steeds did not tire, and The Realm passed by in a shadowy blur. About an hour before sunup, they swooped into a misty valley littered with ruins. It was known as Torin’s Vale.

The twelve slowed to a trot on the remnants of a cobblestone road, now overgrown with patches of tall grass. They passed under a pale stone arch, and before them lay the skeleton of a large ancient city. Wisps of gray mist enveloped the broken foundations of long-empty dwellings. Roofless cottages, empty manors, and fallen towers loomed in the shadows. Dark windows stared out at the riders as they passed.

Antoinette shuddered. “This place gives me the creeps,” she whispered.

“It was once a great city,” Nock said, “but it has long been abandoned. Nothing survives here now.”

As she looked about Antoinette felt watched, as if something or someone was behind the darkened windows. She tried to shake off the feeling, but then she noticed Nock seemed exceptionally watchful and had his bow and arrow at the ready.