The Rise of the Wrym Lord

  “What?” Aidan stole a glance at Mrs. Reed to see if she’d heard.

  “Mom’s cool, Aidan,” Antoinette said. “She believes, remember?”

  “I know. But, Antoinette, what do you mean, you saw me?”

  “I had a vision,” she replied. “But it wasn’t actually you. I think it was your Glimpse.”

  “You know about Glimpses?” Aidan exclaimed.

  “Of course, silly.” Antoinette laughed. “I’ve believed in the story of Alleble since I was seven. My parents told me all about Glimpses a long time ago. Kind of cool, don’t you think, to have a twin?”

  Aidan was speechless.

  “But, Aidan, none of us have ever been to The Realm,” said Mrs. Reed from the front seat. “And none of us have ever seen a Glimpse . . . until now.”

  “He looked just like me?” Aidan asked.

  “Well, not exactly. He looked older, his skin was superpale, his hair was longer, and he kind of floated there, flickering in the air. But other than that he looked just like you.”

  “All Glimpses have skin like that. It spooked me too,” Aidan said.

  “You look pretty cool in armor, you know.”

  Aidan blushed, and he was reminded of Gwenne, who also thought he looked handsome in armor.

  “Aidan, why would I see a vision of your Glimpse?” Antoinette asked after telling him all about her vision.

  “I think King Eliam wants to see you,” Aidan replied.

  “What?” Antoinette and her mom exclaimed at the same time.

  “Didn’t you say my Glimpse said you’ve been called?” Aidan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have your copy of The Story with you?” he asked.

  “It’s at home, but—the poem!” Antoinette exclaimed. “You think the poem will be there.”

  Aidan, Antoinette, and her parents sat staring at the poem in the back of an old leather-bound copy of The Story.

  TheRe aRe passages and dooRs

  And Realms that lie unseen.

  TheRe are Roads both wide and naRRow

  And no avenue between.

  DooRs Remain closed foR those

  Who in sad vanity yet hide.

  Yet when belief is chosen,

  The key appeaRs inside.

  What is lived now will soon pass,

  And what is not will come to be.

  The DooR Within must open,

  FoR one to tRuly see.

  “What’s it mean?” Mr. Reed looked at Aidan for an answer.

  “It’s a riddle,” Aidan explained. “I didn’t get it at first either. Grampin, uh, my grandfather, had to explain it to me. It means—”

  “When belief is chosen . . .” Antoinette interrupted, thinking out loud. “The key appears inside. I’ve got it! It means for people who choose to believe, they already have a key. The key is inside us. Of course, if it’s The Door Within, then the key has to be within us too!”

  Aidan couldn’t believe it. He knew without Grampin’s help he never would have figured out the poem. But Antoinette didn’t need any help. She just charged ahead. Was there no end to what this girl could do?

  “I guess this means you are going to Alleble!” Aidan said.

  Antoinette turned to Aidan. Her glad blue eyes glimmered through tears, and her smile held a thousand thank-yous. Then she turned to her father. “Well, Daddy, can I go?”

  “Sweetheart, I don’t think this is something you can rush into,” he said, leaning back on the sofa and running fingers through his sandy brown hair.

  “But, Dad—”

  “No, Antoinette, he’s right,” Aidan interrupted. “Alleble is at war, and you may find yourself in the middle of it.”

  Antoinette looked indignantly at Aidan. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Your father and I need to talk, Antoinette,” Mrs. Reed said sternly. “And before you go boasting again about what you can handle, I think you should listen to Aidan. He’s been there, remember?”

  Aidan saw the wounded look in Antoinette’s eyes. He looked away quickly.

  “Why don’t you take Aidan downstairs and show him the gym,” Mr. Reed suggested. Antoinette perked up at the idea.

  “C’mon, Aidan!” And the next thing Aidan knew, they were headed down a steep flight of basement stairs.

  “Wow!” Aidan said. “Your basement looks like a boxing ring.”

  The floor was a padded blue mat, and a battered red heavy-bag hung from the ceiling in the room’s center. And around the perimeter of the room were racks of wooden staffs, crates of boxing gloves, and mannequin torsos dressed in what looked like a baseball umpire’s mask and pads.

  “What’s all this?” Aidan asked.

  “This is where we work out,” Antoinette replied. “My whole family’s into kendo.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s Japanese. It means ‘the way of the sword,’” Antoinette said, slowly drawing a long wooden blade from one of the racks. “We actually do spada-kendo, which is a European form. It combines medieval combat with Japanese fencing. It’s sword fighting, basically.”

  Antoinette gracefully sliced the air a few times with the long wooden blade. “You said you were trained to be a knight in Alleble, right? Are you any good?”

  Aidan grinned. “I’m okay,” he said. “How about you?”

  “I’m okay,” she said, grinning back. “Grab a shinai.”

  “A what?”

  “Shinai. It’s a wooden sword for training.”

  “Oh.” Aidan walked over to the rack and found a wooden blade that seemed about the right weight. It wasn’t Fury, but it felt good to have any sword—even a wooden sword—in his hand again.

  “My dad likes that kind,” Antoinette said, grabbing some black pads. “Most of the time we spar down here, but let’s go outside. There is more room to move around.”

  Antoinette unlocked a sliding glass door, and they walked up an areaway into Antoinette’s backyard. It was flat and wide, like Antoinette said, with plenty of room to move around. Aidan wondered what to expect from his new red-headed friend.

  The sun rained down through the trees, painting the unshaded patches of the backyard golden. Antoinette handed Aidan a harness of black pads. “You should put these on,” she said as she put some on too. “Just in case I slip.”

  “That’s not very comforting,” Aidan replied. He quickly pulled the harness over his head. It fit like a life preserver.

  “Remember, no shots at the head. Shinais may be wooden, but they can still do some serious damage.”

  “That’s not very comforting either.”

  Antoinette laughed. “Ready then?”

  Aidan shrugged. “I guess.”

  Antoinette held her wooden blade with both hands vertically out in front of her. Her back and neck were upright, perfectly straight, mirroring her sword. She flexed at the knees, one foot a pace in front of the other. She stood very, very still.

  Aidan was about to speak, when Antoinette lunged forward with lightning quickness. Her wooden blade swept down with tremendous force. Aidan blocked it just in time. He sidestepped, but Antoinette pursued the attack. A combination high left chop followed by a low sweep at his right ankle. Aidan blocked and leaped, but the blows kept coming. Her sword moved with dizzying speed. Aidan didn’t have time to think of a counter. All he could do was block.

  She brought the blade down again and again. And all the time, she pressed forward. Aidan backed up a step.

  Antoinette slashed left, right, and left again. Then she drove forward with two thrusts in succession. Aidan stumbled and found himself on his back with the tip of Antoinette’s blade pressed into his chest pad.

  “That is called kakari-geiko,” Antoinette said, helping Aidan to his feet. “You charge forward with multiple strikes, never letting up, so that your opponent must abandon his own plan of attack.”

  “Well, it worked!” Aidan said, shaking his head. “And you said you were just okay.”

  ?
??So . . . maybe I’m pretty good. Go again?”

  Aidan nodded. He wasn’t about to be taken off guard a second time.

  They stood ready.

  Once again, Antoinette launched forward, raining down blows. This time, Aidan was ready. He remembered that her slashing strikes came in threes with a slight pause between each series. He blocked and parried, playing defense and backing up—all the while counting her strikes. When she slashed the third time, Aidan snapped his wooden blade suddenly from outside in, driving her sword down almost to the turf. Maintaining control of her blade, Aidan let his elbow collapse in toward his side. Then he thrust forward before she could raise her sword to defend. The tip of his wooden sword stabbed into Antoinette’s pads, and she jumped backward.

  “Ouch!” she said. “That was amazing.”

  “It’s called a moulinet,” Aidan said, smiling. “A friend from Alleble taught me how.”

  “And you said you were just okay,” Antoinette said, grinning.

  “Maybe . . . I’m pretty good, then,” Aidan replied with a wink.

  “Well, we’re even,” Antoinette said. “Next strike wins?”

  Aidan nodded, and once again they clashed. Wooden blades cracked against each other as Aidan and Antoinette ranged all over the backyard. Antoinette changed her strategy, and her attacks didn’t seem to follow a pattern. She kept her slashes high, and Aidan couldn’t find an opening for a moulinet.

  For a moment, Antoinette pressed forward, driving Aidan back. But he countered with creative, sweeping combinations that forced Antoinette into awkward defensive backpedals. No one kept an advantage for very long.

  Aidan pushed the attack. He figured Antoinette probably had not faced too many left-handers, so he went one-handed with his blade and came at her from left to right. It seemed to be working. He drove her into a sunny patch of the yard, and her guard seemed to be weakening. A few more strikes, he thought, and then a moulinet!

  But as Aidan lunged forward, his foot turned on a tree root, and he stumbled. He went to one knee, and suddenly things went into slow motion.

  He looked up at Antoinette, and with the sun directly behind her, her hair became brilliant gold. Details fell into place like puzzle pieces. The lavender poncho, the piercing blue eyes, the golden hair—

  “Gwenne . . . ,” Aidan said aloud. His sword fell. But it was so fast that Antoinette did not see. She was already swinging with all her might to block Aidan’s next strike, which never came. Her wooden blade smacked Aidan across the nose, and he tumbled to the side with a yelp.

  Antoinette dropped her shinai and knelt beside Aidan. “Oh, Aidan, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Oh, oh no, your nose is bleeding!”

  Aidan sat up, clutched his nose, and tried to pinch shut the flow of blood. “Antoinette,” he said nasally. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before! I met your Glimpse in Alleble. Your Glimpse is Gwenne!”

  And though his nose throbbed, and the blood flowed freely, Aidan smiled. For it was clear that King Eliam’s plan was already in motion.

  9

  TRAVEL PLANS

  I think the bleeding has stopped,” Aidan said, tossing a red wad of paper towels into the trash. He joined Antoinette and her dad at the kitchen table.

  “Y’know this isn’t the first time Antoinette’s done this,” Mrs. Reed said, sitting down with a cup of coffee.

  “Mom!” Antoinette exclaimed.

  “She and her father were sparring in the basement,” Mrs. Reed continued, ignoring Antoinette’s pleas. “The Broncos scored a touchdown—”

  “We had a TV down there at the time,” explained Antoinette’s dad. “I looked over for just a split second to watch the replay, and WHAM, Antoinette got me with a round kick.”

  “It was an accident!” Antoinette said.

  “Boy, that was a gusher!” Mr. Reed said, absently pinching the bridge of his nose. “I probably should have seen a doctor. I bet it was broken.”

  “Dad, I feel bad enough already, okay?”

  “I had it coming,” Aidan said. “I shouldn’t have dropped my guard, but when I saw you—that way—I just kind of lost it.”

  “So my Glimpse’s name is Gwenne?”

  “Yes, but she’s a blond.”

  “Y’know, my hair is normally blond. I just like to dye it red.” Antoinette tilted her head back and fluffed her hair like a model. “So tell me more about Gwenne.”

  “She is one of the twelve knights who went to Mithegard. We went through a lot together. She’s . . . she’s my friend.”

  Aidan hoped he wasn’t blushing. From the moment he said goodbye to Gwenne, all he could think about was finding her human twin. Now that he had found her, he didn’t know what to say. He certainly didn’t want Antoinette to know how he felt about Gwenne.

  “If Antoinette enters The Realm,” Mr. Reed began, “what do you think her mission will be?”

  “I don’t know,” Aidan replied. “It might be a mission like mine. I was told that there were many smaller kingdoms and cities still to be reached with the message of Alleble. But—” Aidan looked hopefully to Antoinette, “I was hoping that if you go, you might do something for me.” Aidan held his breath.

  “Just name it,” Antoinette said.

  Aidan felt a huge weight leave his shoulders. “I have this great friend, back in Maryland. His name is Robby Pierson. Well, when I left Alleble, I had a vision of him, and he was on Paragor’s side.”

  Antoinette’s parents stiffened. The room seemed to darken. Only Antoinette seemed unaffected by the mentioning of The Betrayer’s name. “How do you know?” she asked.

  “He was wearing the black and crimson armor of the enemy,” Aidan explained sadly. “And his eyes . . . they flashed red.”

  “But it was a vision,” Mrs. Reed asked. “Like a dream? Maybe you’ve just been so worried about him that it affected your dreams.”

  Aidan’s stomach tightened uncomfortably. “Sometimes they are dreams,” he said. “But other times they happen when I’m wide awake. They just come over me, and I see things. The events that I see . . . some of them have come true. I had another vision last night. I saw my friend Robby as an attendant to Paragor himself, and the two of them were setting something free from an underground cell. It was a monster. I’m afraid it will come true if someone doesn’t reach Robby for the King.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that, Aidan. Have you spoken to Robby since returning from The Realm?” Mr. Reed asked. “Have you told him about Alleble?”

  “I’ve tried, Mr. Reed,” Aidan said. “He just doesn’t listen. He acts so strange on the phone—almost like he doesn’t know me.”

  “That doesn’t sound right,” Mrs. Reed said.

  “Okay, so you want me to find his Glimpse in The Realm, is that it?” Antoinette asked. Aidan continued to be amazed by her ability to quickly piece things together.

  “Do you have a picture of Robby?” Mrs. Reed asked.

  “No, but we can get one on the Net. His soccer team is ranked nationally. His picture’s on their web site.”

  “I’ll try, Aidan,” Antoinette said. “It’ll be like looking for a needle in a hay stack, but I’ll try.”

  “Wait a minute,” Mr. Reed objected. “You’re assuming we’re going to let you go to The Realm.”

  “But, Daddy, I’ve got to go,” Antoinette pleaded. “I’ve been called. I can’t just say no thanks, can I?”

  Antoinette’s father was quiet but struggling within. At last, he asked, “So, how does this work? How will Antoinette enter The Realm?”

  Antoinette grinned. “Oh, thank you, Daddy! Thank you!”

  “I didn’t say yes, Antoinette. I just want more information.”

  Three sets of eyes turned to Aidan. He took a deep breath. “Like the poem says, Antoinette has to travel the narrow path,” Aidan began. “It’s what Glimpses call the path between worlds. My grandfather taught me to imagine a bridge over a deep chasm. Antoinette will need to picture this bridge in her mind and tr
avel across it. Eventually, she will come to a door, The Door Within. When she passes through that door, she enters The Realm, and Gwenne, her Glimpse, will come here.”

  “She’ll come here—like to our house?” Mrs. Reed asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Aidan replied. “But I don’t think so. When I went to The Realm, Aelic, my Glimpse, didn’t go to my house. All I know is that Gwenne told me a person and his or her Glimpse can never be in the same realm at the same time. And that’s another thing . . . time works differently in The Realm.”

  “What do you mean?” Antoinette asked.

  “Well, I was in The Realm for almost two weeks in Glimpse time, but when I returned, I discovered that I had only been missing for about five hours!”

  “So Antoinette could be back by breakfast?” Mrs. Reed asked.

  “Maybe,” Aidan said. “I guess it depends on Antoinette’s mission. But I don’t think there’s any way to compare the time exactly. My grandfather was in The Realm for a month our time. But in The Realm, he experienced two years of adventures!”

  “Two years?” Mrs. Reed echoed. “Antoinette, a lot could happen in that time. And you don’t even really know what you’re getting into.”

  “You’re right, Mom, I don’t,” Antoinette said. “But you know all I’ve ever wanted, since you first told me about King Eliam, was to do something for him . . . to serve him—if for no other reason than for the fact that he gave me hope that doesn’t quit! Because of him, I will never be alone!”

  Mr. Reed’s shoulders sagged. He took his wife’s hand. “A faithful servant of King Eliam would never ignore his call. It’s just that—” His voice faltered. “The Realm is at war. What if something happened to you? What if you couldn’t come back?”

  Aidan stretched out on his bed and looked across the room to where he kept his scrolls. He thought about Antoinette. He wondered if she’d gone yet.

  She probably left the moment I walked out the door, Aidan thought. That’s the way she is. Confident, brave, spirited. So much like Gwenne. Then again, Antoinette is not like Gwenne at all in some ways. She is too rash . . . too impatient.

  After dinner, Antoinette had pummeled Aidan with questions about entering The Door Within. He told her about the bridge, about being willing to take a risk and step out there, and most of all, about staying on the path no matter what the voices told her to do! I hope she remembers, Aidan thought with a laugh. She wouldn’t want her adventure to begin like mine did—by having to climb over the mountains of Paragory.