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

Kaliam, Aelic! The King be praised! You made it!” Lady Merewen cried, practically dragging them both from the saddle. “When Aelic’s dragon came back wounded and riderless . . . we feared the worst.”

Aelic’s knees buckled and he almost fell, but Farix was there. “Got you, lad,” he said as he helped Aelic over to a seat on a nearby boulder.

“You cut it a little close for comfort,” Farix said. “What did you find?”

“We are too late,” Kaliam whispered. The Glimpses stood as if in shock. Pennath Ruin rumbled ominously in the distance.

Aelic stood slowly and leaned against the boulder. The air was still acrid to him, and he continued to cough as he spoke. “A steep stairway was cut down into the stone at the bottom of the basin. It seemed ancient, and I felt as if I were stepping backward in time as I descended. It was dark at first, but when my eyes adjusted to the half-light, I saw the remnants of an enormous door of stone. It had been ripped free from its hinges, and it lay in shards on the ground. There was a vast chamber beyond. The moment I entered it, I was overwhelmed by something. There was a smell . . . a stench, foul beyond the words I have to describe it, but it was not that. Within that chamber was a presence, a dark and brooding hatred that clamped down upon my heart. I could feel it willing me to die, and I almost succumbed to it. As I turned to lunge free of the chamber, I saw upon the walls within, upon the frame of the door, and finally upon the stairs—long gouges. I am convinced they were scratched into the stone by the talons of the Wyrm Lord.”

No one spoke. It seemed that fear and menace permeated the air like the swirling ash from the volcano.

“I feared it would be so,” Farix said finally. “From the moment we entered this desolate land, I sensed something too.”

Oswyn came up and handed a full skin to Aelic. “Drink some of this, Aelic. It is Golden Tear. Queen Illaria gave it to me, for I wanted to know what gives it its recuperative powers. I deem you need it now.”

Aelic took a long drink, swallowed, and seemed to stand a little straighter.

“We have not been idle while you were away!” Sir Oswyn said to Kaliam. The Acacian riders gathered round. “It is more confirmation than news, I deem. We found a trail, well trodden by many soldiers and creased with ruts from heavy wheels.”

“Paragor’s legions,” Kaliam said absently.

“They are not more than a day old,” said Sir Oswyn.

“We followed the trail to the outskirts of the Shattered Lands,” said Farix.

“Where do they lead?” Aelic asked.

Oswyn stared at the ground and said, “They lead due south . . . to Clarion.”

Kaliam walked over to Aelic’s dragon steed and shook his head. “The bone is not broken, but she will not be able to manage the pace we need to set. Aelic, you shall have to ride with me.”

Aelic drew near and saw the singed flesh and the gaping tear in the webbing of the dragon’s left wing. He patted the creature on its knobby brow and looked questioningly back to Kaliam.

“Fear not. She will survive,” Kaliam replied to Aelic’s unspoken question. “With that wing, she will need to leisurely make her way back to her roost in Acacia. She will be far safer there than where we are going.”

The riders pushed their steeds to labor past exhaustion. On they flew, driven by fear. Fear of failure. Fear of the unknown power of the evil that had been unleashed. Fear of what they might find in Clarion. The sun rose red in the hazy eastern sky, but it was soon devoured by a curtain of smoldering dark clouds.

“Why would the enemy go to Clarion?” Aelic asked, shouting to be heard over the swoosh of the dragon’s wings.

“Clarion was ever sought by Paragor from long ago,” Kaliam said. “It is a beautiful white city, hewn from rich granite and marble. The Glimpses there do not delve like Mallik’s folk, but they are artists: shapers, sculptors, and engravers. The bright walls, fitted cunningly around the city, do not seem meant for military use. For in every panel there is carved an intricate design. But do not be fooled! Those walls are as strong as the bones of a mountain, and there is some hope in that!

“A round castle with many tall towers sits on a hill within the ramparts, and there are great halls as well, supported by long columns! It was an old Clarion master craftsman named Halberad who carved the throne on which King Eliam now sits.

“Paragor requested such a throne for himself. Offers of gold and priceless riches he made, but he was rebuffed. Alvisbrand was king in Clarion of old, and he was as true a friend to Alleble as The Realm has ever seen. His son, Alvisbrand the Younger, will not listen to Paragor’s entreaties either. Not only has Clarion turned away Paragor’s many offers of alliance, but they refuse even to trade with them.

“The most direct course for the enemy to take back to his dark realm would bypass Clarion altogether. I fear for Clarion, for there can be only one reason why Paragor would choose that direction: revenge.”

Suddenly, Kaliam straightened in his saddle. “Loose Fury from that sheath, Sir Aelic,” he said. “There is smoke on the horizon. Clarion is burning.”

The dragon riders came upon a scene of utter destruction. The white walls of Clarion were thrown down. Many of the great buildings had been collapsed, their columns of strong stone snapped like young trees. Smoke from smoldering cottages curled in dark tendrils into the gray sky.

“The walls of Clarion were mighty and they had two legions of spearmen to defend them!” Oswyn cried as they dismounted and entered the city. “They should have been able to resist Paragor longer than this!”

“Do you see those stones?” Lady Merewen said, pointing to a ruined turret. “They are not just broken—they . . . they are melted! What sort of fire can melt cold stone?”

Kaliam drew his broadsword and said, “It is the dragonfire of the firstborn Wyrm in all The Realm. I fear Clarion could have boasted ten thousand spearmen, and yet the result would have been the same.”

Aelic quickly surveyed the wreckage and turned to Kaliam. “Sir, where are the Glimpses?”

Kaliam looked sadly down at Aelic. “I do not believe there are any survivors.”

“No, I mean, where are the bodies?” Aelic said, shaking his head.

Kaliam, Oswyn, Farix, Lady Merewen, and all the riders from Acacia looked hopelessly about. “The ground ought to be littered with the dead!” Farix said. “And yet there are none!”

“Could Paragor have taken them all prisoner?” Aelic asked.

“In the face of the Wyrm Lord, could they have all surrendered?” asked Lady Merewen.

Kaliam shook his head. “If I know Alvisbrand, he would not surrender,” he said, concerned. “And the folk of Clarion would have fought to the last, but where are they?”

The riders dismounted their dragons and spread out into the wreckage. It was grim work, searching through the rubble and charred wood. They feared the death they would find, but feared worse to find none at all.

At last, Farix reported back that he had found two knights crushed under fallen columns in a collapsed building. Oswyn made similar discoveries. Everyone but Lady Merewen had returned to the front gate, but after all the searching, the count was only twelve dead.

“Help!” Lady Merewen cried out from atop the roof of a fallen cottage. The others sprinted to her aid, and there on the other side of the roof was their friend Tal, his legs tangled in wreckage. “He is alive!” Lady Merewen said.

Oswyn and Kaliam knelt at the fallen knight’s side. “Tal!” Kaliam cried. “Brother in arms! Praise to King Eliam, we have found you!” Then he saw the wound in Tal’s side, and he gasped. With pleading eyes, he looked to Oswyn, but their herb-meister shook his head. He had no salve or medicine for such a mortal wound.

Tal’s head turned toward his friends. His eyes blinked open and slowly focused. Tal’s voice was thin and dry. “Kaliam, you are here—and you, Aelic.”

Kaliam took out a waterskin and poured some over Tal’s cracked lips. “Thank you, Captain,” Tal said, his eyes roaming. “But where is Matthias?”

“Matthias?” Aelic echoed.

Farix leaned close to Aelic and whispered, “He calls for his old friend who fell in Mithegard. Alas, Tal is fading—” Kaliam held up a hand, and Farix went silent.

“I have not seen Matthias,” said Kaliam, brushing aside locks of hair from Tal’s face.

“Pity,” Tal said. “I wanted to show him the notches in my blade!”

Kaliam looked about and saw Tal’s sword. And though it was forged from murynstil, Alleble’s strongest metal, the blade lay broken in three pieces a few feet away. “We have seen your sword,” Kaliam said. “You fought bravely, Knight of Alleble.”

“Not bravely enough,” Tal said quietly. His eyes started to close.

“What happened here?” asked Kaliam.

Tal’s body shook. He coughed and took in a breath. “They came in the night,” Tal said. “Paragor himself led them to the gates of Clarion. But there was an unseen malice behind him, and the spearmen in the frontguard fled their posts. Only Alvisbrand stood on the battlement and defied the dark Prince.

“Paragor uttered one word, ‘Surrender,’ and that was all. Alvisbrand drew his sword, but before his refusal had even left his lips . . . something took him. A great carriage opened behind Paragor, and darkness took wing!” Tal looked up, terrified, as if he saw something in the sky.

“Tal, what did you see?” Kaliam asked.

“No,” he cried. “It is not possible! It was blacker than the night sky and had vast wings like a dragon’s. It was more swift than thought, and it leaped from the carriage to the battlement. And Alvisbrand . . . he was slain so quickly that he had not the time to cry out. It was as if he had never been at all.

“The dark thing flew back into the carriage. Before the carriage door shut, I saw a twisted, shriveled thing . . . like something unearthed from a grave. Then Paragor unleashed a mace, a great black spiked thing! It burst into flames. He whirled it about him, wreathing himself in flames, and then he smashed it against the main gate of Clarion . . . and it burst asunder and the flames spread.

“Everyone within, even children, fled in terror toward the safety of the castle, but they were struck down without mercy! At any resistance, the monster from the carriage emerged, spraying fire out of the darkness and kindling everything to char—even some of the stone itself melted! It was over in minutes. Tobias fell before the creature. I do not know what became of him because I was sent sprawling by Paragor’s mace. I do not even think Paragor knew he had hit me.” Tal laughed, a tired, hacking laugh.

“What about the survivors, Tal?” Farix asked. “Did Paragor take prisoners away?”

Tears slipped from the corners of Tal’s eyes. He stared at Farix, but before Tal could answer, his eyes became still, fixed.

“You fought well, Tal!” Kaliam proclaimed, gently closing Tal’s eyes. “Matthias himself may now tell you it is so. And your King will greet you in the Blessed Realm and say to you, ‘Well done, Servant of Alleble! Well done.”

Quickly but with great care, they raised a cairn of rocks over Tal. They stood in silence around it until one of the Acacian riders called out, “Look! The smoke clears! And the castle of Clarion still stands!”

They all turned and, beyond all hope, the white castle of Clarion was intact, resting upon the highest hill in the small kingdom. But Kaliam did not rejoice, for it seemed to him that the castle was surrounded by a gray shroud—a vaporous swirling mist that issued from its gatehouse.

They mounted their dragon steeds and soared up the hill to the wide stair before the castle’s main gate. They all started to climb the stair, but Kaliam raised his hand and stopped them. “I will go,” he said. He turned, walked slowly up the white steps, and disappeared within the hanging mist.

A moment passed, and then those gathered on the stair heard a haunting moan from within the castle. Kaliam emerged, shrieking, and fell to his knees on the steps.

“The stone alone survived!” he cried, covering his face with his gauntlets. “The rest . . . they are all burned.”

And that was all they could get from him for a long while. Farix and Oswyn carried him down the steps and laid him flat by his dragon. They stayed near to Kaliam, but they could not comfort him. No one else went back into the castle.

Finally, Kaliam sat up and took a drink of water. Aelic came to him and sat down. He put a trembling hand on Kaliam’s shoulder. “Kaliam,” he said, a deep-seated tremor in his voice, “was Antoinette among the dead?”

Kaliam looked away. “It is impossible to tell,” he said.