The Wyrmling Horde r-7

by David Farland

  Talon wondered at this news. The discovery of rune lore was lost in history. She had not suspected that the technology was first a product of the netherworld, or that it was meant to be hidden from them.

  "It was not well done," Erringale said. "There are no more true Ael anymore, not since the shattering. The power to grant proper endowments has been lost. There can be no more Ael."

  "It is true that the rune lore does not work as it once did," Daylan said, "and the Runelords are seldom as honorable as our Ael once were. But overall, the good that has been done has outweighed the bad."

  Erringale said no more.

  The Cormar twins were first to take attributes. They had already been granted dozens of endowments before the fall of Caer Luciare, but now they asked an honor that Daylan Hammer was loath to give.

  "We wish to twin our mind," one of them said. Errant, Talon thought it was, though she could never be certain, for the two looked so much alike. "Thull-turock has said that among the ancient Runelords, this was sometimes done."

  "Sometimes it works," Daylan said, "but more often it leads to grief. I would advise you against it."

  "But you will not stop us?" Tun asked. Or at least she thought it was Tun. Her father once said that Tun was a hair taller, and a bit more reckless. Talon could not tell them apart, either by voice or by appearance.

  "I don t have the authority to stop you," Daylan said. "I am not your king, nor your lord. As I see it, no man is. I suggest that instead of asking me, you put it to your comrades, as representatives of all your people. They are the ones who will be most affected, if this fails."

  So the Cormars stood before Talon and the Emir and offered their argument.

  "By twinning our minds, Errant and I will be able to read one another s thoughts, to fight as a perfect team-two men, four arms, but only one heart. And if it works," Tun said, "it will be a great benefit. I will always know what my brother is thinking, what he sees and hears."

  "Yes, and if it doesn t work," Daylan said, "it will lead to madness and a loss of self-control."

  The emir studied the men, looked to Talon for her thoughts. "You re the one with experience in such matters," he said. "I know nothing of Runelords and their strategies."

  "I know a little about it," Talon offered. "In ancient times, it was sometimes done. There were some great fighters, the Sons of Wonder, who did this. Most often, it was done with men who were raised as twins, who often sparred with one another, and so were already intimately familiar with each other."

  "And what factors lead to madness?" the emir asked.

  "Selfishness," Talon said. "Twinning works best with those who love one another truly, who share no secrets from each other."

  The emir thought for a long moment. Errant Cormar urged, "We are going up against the combined might of the wyrmling horde. We are going to fight wyrmling lords and Knights Eternal with endowments of their own-how many we cannot know. And the Death Lords will be there, led by their emperor. We need every advantage."

  Obviously, the Cormars were concerned. The emperor s troops loomed large in their imaginations. In their world the wyrmlings were seen as unbeatable. But Talon had lived in both worlds. As a Runelord she knew what kind of damage a single highly endowed assassin might do. History could show dozens of instances where entire kingdoms fell within moments as Dedicates were brought low.

  After a long moment the emir sighed. "I would advise against it. This is a new art to me, and by nature I mistrust it. Yet so much depends upon us. The world depends upon us to succeed, to bring Areth Sul Urstone and the Wizard Fallion home. I cannot advise you yea or nay."

  "I think it is well worth the gamble," Thull-turock said.

  But of course you would say so, Talon thought. You re a facilitator, and if you succeed in this, it will greatly add to your reputation.

  She didn t dare voice her thoughts. Talon worried that they were too small-minded.

  And so, leaning upon their own counsel, the Cormar twins granted one another an endowment of wit. It was a ceremony that offered little in the way of danger. For one moment after surrendering his wit, Errant Cormar became a gibbering idiot. But then his brother granted an endowment in return, and then both men looked normal.

  They did not begin twitching and shrieking, as it was said sometimes happened when two men fought for control of their joint mind.

  Yet it was obvious to Talon that they were in turmoil, for they stood for a long moment, both of them gazing off reflectively as their eyes darted this way and that.

  They re sifting through one another s memories, Talon realized, learning the things that they thought no one would ever know about them-their most secret memories, their hopes and fears.

  Daylan saw it, too, and said, "Gentlemen, come with me for a moment. We need to talk of supplies, and strategies. I would like your ideas on how to proceed…" And he led them from the chamber.

  He s trying to distract them, and focus them, Talon realized. And suddenly it was her turn to take endowments.

  There were few surprises for Talon in the ceremony. As a child, she had seen the white scars left by the branding irons upon her mother and father, and with wide eyes had asked about the rites. "What does this one stand for, Mother?" she had asked, looking down at the squiggly lines inscribed within a circle.

  It was no design that could be easily described. All runes seemed to have a look of rightness to them, as if in form alone they held some power, but you couldn t tell what that power was just by looking at the rune.

  "That one stands for hearing," Myrrima had answered.

  "Who gave you their hearing?"

  "I got one from a dog," Myrrima had answered, "a special little yellow dog, bred to give hearing to Runelords."

  "Did it hurt?"

  And Myrrima had told her, "It s a terrible thing to take an endowment. It didn t hurt me at all-or if it did hurt, it hurt because it felt so good. There is a point where pleasure can be so great, it feels almost as if it will take your life. I ve seen Runelords swoon from the pleasure when they take an endowment."

  "I wish I felt that good," Talon had said.

  "Ah, but it hurts the giver. The dog that gave me his endowment, he yelped and yelped in pain and would not stop for half an hour. Tears came to his eyes, and he ran away from his master who had been holding him during the endowment ceremony. The dog felt bewildered and betrayed."

  "But did you hear better afterward?"

  "I heard surprisingly well," her mother had answered. "I could hear the high-pitched squeaks of bats at night so loudly that sometimes it would keep me awake if I tried to sleep. If I lay down on the ground, I could hear mice burrowing beneath the grass, and the baby mice squeaking as they cried for their mother s teats. Then of course, there was always your father. I could hear his stomach gurgling and churning from his evening meal, and if he began to snore-well, I could forget all about sleep!"

  Her parents had seemed almost… disfigured to her. Masses of white scars covered her father s chest and arms. Sir Borenson had always pretended that he could not remember where most of them came from. He d been only sixteen when he took his first endowments, and over the years he claimed that his memories had faded.

  When questioned, he would act befuddled, and then find some excuse to walk off.

  Talon had thought that he was hiding something until her mother explained, "Your father took endowments of wit when he was young, so that he could learn to fight more quickly. But when his Dedicates were slain, the men from whom he had taken wit had died, and your father forgot a great deal. Imagine for a moment that you took four endowments of wit, and studied hard for several years; then one day someone stole four-fifths of all that you had learned. That s the way it is with your father.

  "It s not that he is embarrassed to talk about it, I think. But it hurts him to admit how much he has lost, for you see, each Dedicate who died, your father took as a sign of his own failure.

  "It is a Runelord s duty to protect his D
edicates. It s not important to do it just to make sure that you keep your endowments. It s a matter of honor. The people who give you your endowments, they re people just like you-with homes, and families, and hearts that break. You get to borrow their strength, or their vigor, or their beauty. And while you rejoice, they suffer terribly."

  Talon s curiosity about her parents scars had never really waned. She d heard stories about them so often that in time the tales of the ceremonies seemed more like memories than history.

  So she knew what to expect-the harking chants of the facilitators, the smell of charred hair and burning flesh, the glowing worms of light that came from the forcible as it was pulled away from the Dedicate s skin, the rush of ecstasy that came at the touch of the forcible to her own skin.

  Talon took her endowments before the emir did. Many of those who had offered attributes were girls who had been friends when she was small. They had played games together, chasing blue-bellied lizards among the rocks along the hillside of Caer Luciare, planting flowers amid the vegetables in the garden, and studying at the creche school as toddlers.

  Before the ceremony ever began, the facilitator Thull-turock took the potential Dedicates aside and asked if they understood what they were doing, if anyone had tried to coerce them into this agreement, and if they understood what they would be giving up.

  He was pleased to see that so many of her friends came forward of their own volition, offering their attributes because they believed that it was right to do so.

  And so for each endowment, one of her closest friends offered up an attribute.

  It broke Talon s heart to see a young warrior give up his strength. His name was Crel-shek, and as a youth he had hoped to marry her, but Talon s father had forbidden it, claiming that he was of inferior breeding.

  As she garnered attributes Talon grew stronger and suppler, inhumanly quick and filled with vigor. Alun brought his dogs, and she took endowments of scent and hearing from them, while an old man with uncommonly keen night vision gave his sight, and thus Talon sharpened her senses.

  But all of my virtues are bought with blood, she realized, and suddenly she began to understand why her father had never wanted to speak of his past as a Runelord.

  When she had taken her endowments, the emir finally was granted his. First came his daughter, Siyaddah, and he went to a corner and talked to her softly, saying his good-byes. Talon could not help but overhear. With her sharpened senses, even her own breathing seemed loud.

  He spoke the words that any father might speak at such a moment, telling her of his love for her, his pride in her, his hopes for her future, for a life well lived and well loved.

  But it was his final words that caught Talon s attention, for before he left, he whispered, "Sleep peacefully, my child. I borrow your speed for but a while. It shall not be long before you wake."

  That s when Talon knew.

  He plans to return his endowments to the givers, Talon realized.

  But the only way that he could do that would be to give up his life.

  He can t do it before the battle is won, Talon thought. He must make certain that the wyrmlings are defeated.

  So he will die at his own hand thereafter.

  It was a noble thing to do. Few were the Runelords in history that had undertaken such a feat.

  But Talon knew of the emir s courage and determination. He was just the kind of man to do it.

  The thought both thrilled and horrified her. It thrilled her to think that he was so noble of heart. It horrified her because it made her desire him more.

  The emir s face was stoic as he began taking his endowments, and then it was time for Talon to go.

  She went first to her mother, Gatunyea, and to her little brothers, and said her farewells. Then she gave her thanks to her Dedicates, and to those who would yet grant endowments to her through those Dedicates.

  Talon went to get her pack, and sat quietly examining her clothes and her small stores of food, deciding which to take. Nearby sat Alun, who was quiet and sullen. He hunched over his dogs, caring for them from long habit. Now a young girl knelt beside him, his new apprentice.

  I should go and thank him, too, Talon decided. He loves his dogs as if they were his own children.

  The camp was settled for the night, and in a far room someone was singing, filling the chamber with sweet sound. Nearby, the water lapped on the shore of the underground pool.

  Two of Alun s dogs cowered close. These were the ones that had given hearing and scent. They peered up at him with sad eyes, as if stricken and betrayed. After all of their love and service, he had done this.

  Other dogs-Wanderlust and some of the old ones-hovered nearby.

  Alun sat there petting the dogs. He hadn t liked taking their endowments. Each time an attribute had passed into Talon, the dog that gave it had yelped in pain, then floundered to the ground or crawled off, alternately yelping and whining. They could not understand how deeply Talon needed their gifts, or how grateful she felt. But now Alun sat petting them, and the dogs licked his hands, as if to tell him that all was forgiven between them.

  There was movement nearby. Talon ignored it, thinking that someone must just be going to relieve themselves in the night.

  "Back with the mutts?" Connor Madoc asked, slipping up behind Alun.

  Talon turned to see Connor and Drewish hovering above Alun, leering down.

  "Just putting them to sleep," Alun said, "for the night."

  "Those should have been mine," Connor said, nodding at the dogs. "We had an agreement." He leaned close, threateningly. Talon could not help but notice that Drewish had his hand on the pommel of his dagger.

  "I, I m sorry," Alun said. "I, I got so nervous!"

  Talon did not hesitate.

  She leapt up, rushed five paces, grabbed Connor by the collar of his shirt with one hand, by the belt with the other, and then hurled Connor as far as she could out into the pond.

  He only went ten feet, but she was gratified to see how far Connor flew.

  Drewish did not have time to react. Talon s endowment of metabolism saw to it that before Drewish could draw his dagger, he went hurtling, as if intent on catching his brother in midair.

  Both of them landed with a splash, and from a few yards off came heavy clapping.

  "I m glad to see you putting those endowments to good use," Daylan Hammer said. "I daresay that those two can use the bath."

  "Aye," Talon agreed. "But there is a kind of filth in them that water cannot remove."

  The Madocs peered up at Talon, then at Daylan Hammer, and went slogging off without another word.

  Daylan came close to the dogs, knelt next to Alun, and patted Wanderlust, smoothing out the grizzled hairs on her snout. "Do not use this dog for endowments," he said. "She s too old. I fear that she would die from the transfer."

  "I wasn t thinking about that," Alun said. "She s earned her retirement. I just want her to live to a ripe old age."

  Daylan smiled. "Let us hope that that is a very long time indeed."

  That dog might live longer than me, Talon thought, for I am going into the wyrmlings lair.

  Even if she survived, Talon would be taking six endowments of metabolism from men and dogs, so that she might move swiftly. But in doing so, it was like taking poison. Her life would pass away as if it were a dream. A day to her would seem like seven, and if she should ever have a daughter, Talon would age and die before the girl ever grew old enough to bear her own children.

  I will wither before my parents do, Talon realized.

  Daylan said absently to Alun, "Our facilitators are taking a rest now, but when they have recovered, they will prepare more forcibles, and grant us more endowments."

  "But, aren t you leaving sooner than that?" Alun asked.

  "Yes, we re leaving, but our Dedicates are staying. They can take endowments for us now."

  "How can they do that?" Alun asked.

  "Imagine that a man gives you his strength. When he gives tha
t endowment, his strength flows to you, like a stream of water flowing into a lake.

  "Now, imagine that another man gives more strength to your Dedicate through another endowment. His stream of water flows into that man s flow, just as happens when the winter showers create new streams. What happens then?"

  Alun s face crinkled up as he tried to envision it. "There is more water in the first stream?"

  "Exactly. The strength does not pool in your Dedicate. Instead, the strength of both men flows to you.

  "Thus, as Talon s Dedicates take endowments, and vector those attributes to her, she will gain their powers as the day progresses. From time to time, she may feel a surge of strength, or a rush of wholesomeness when stamina is added."

  He turned to Talon. "Are you ready to go?" Daylan asked. "Have you said your good-byes?" His voice was sober. He knew that they might be going to their deaths.

  "I ve spoken my farewells," Talon said. "Is the emir ready? The Cormar twins?"

  "Give them a few minutes more," Daylan suggested.

  Talon glanced across the chamber and saw the emir talking to some old battle companions. The Wizard Sisel and Lord Erringale stood at his side, waiting for him to finish. At his back were the Cormar twins.

  One of the twins was gazing off, deep in thought, when suddenly he burst out laughing. The emir turned to see what had caused the outburst, and the young man said, "Sorry, just thought of a joke."

  Talon turned back to Daylan.

  "Daylan," she asked softly. "I heard Lord Erringale say that you had been banished from this world. Why was that?"

  Daylan smiled, considered how to answer. "Ages ago, there was a great danger on your world, the world of the Runelords. It was thousands of years ago. A young king had arisen, and his people were set upon by reavers. He begged for my help. His people were already studying rune lore, and they knew how to give one another blessings, by drawing runes upon their friends with their fingers. But it was a crude craft, barely understood, and those who gave the blessings failed far more often than not. Besides, such blessings fade quickly.

  "So they begged for my help.

  "I had only begun to suspect something back then. The Bright Ones call this world the One True World, and for countless ages the Bright Ones and Glories alike have thought that when the binding came, it would be upon this world, that it would be bound to some lesser world.