The Wyrmling Horde r-7

by David Farland

  Perhaps the sun is not as great a deterrent as I d imagined, Rhianna thought.

  She heard the gruff laugh of a wyrmling coming from somewhere far up the mountain, drifting down. He called out a taunt.

  She did not need a translator. The tone said it all: I know what you re looking for. Come and get it if you dare.

  Suddenly, she realized how dangerous that just might be.

  The wyrmlings have had a night to dig up ore from the mountain, and two full days to refine it and take endowments. Surely they have done so by now.

  Their taunts are not idle threats.

  Rhianna leapt up and flew away.

  I will have to go to Rugassa without my staff, she realized.

  16

  ILL MET BY DAYLIGHT

  Trust not in your own arms, but in the Great Wyrm. No chick falls from its nest without the Wyrm s knowledge. How much more then does the Great Wyrm know your needs. It alone knows all, and has all power.

  — From the Wyrmling Catechism

  Lord Despair was impatiently touring his armory when his Knights Eternal returned that morning, three hours after sunrise.

  He was studying the wyrmling weapons mounted on the walls-axes for chopping, hooks for grabbing one s prey, battle darts in various weights and sizes, war bows and spears. All of them were overlarge for a human.

  But Despair wasn t interested in weapons for humans. The Emperor Zul-torac had opened a door to the netherworld, and now the Thissians were negotiating with a murder of Darkling Glories. The Darkling Glories normally hunted with only teeth and talons, but Despair felt that they might benefit from wyrmling technology.

  All day, his unease had been building, like the static that builds before a storm, waiting to be unleashed. He wanted to know what was happening at Caer Luciare. He wanted his shipment of forcibles. Three days ago, it would have been no small thing to look into the mind of his Death Lord and learn what was going on in Luciare. But now his Death Lord there was gone, and Lord Despair had no idea which of his warlords now ruled in Caer Luciare.

  The Knights Eternal stopped outside the armory, and both of them hesitated at the door.

  They looked haggard, bleary-eyed.

  "Yes," Despair demanded. "What word do you have of my forcibles?"

  The Knights Eternal cringed, a rare thing. Their kind were usually fearless. Lord Despair knew instantly that the news would not be just bad, it would be horrific.

  "We have returned from Caer Luciare, and the news is not favorable," Kryssidia said. "But we have brought a gift of blood metal, in hopes of turning aside your wrath."

  The Knights Eternal each dropped a heavy black sack at their feet, and pushed it forward. By the size, it had to represent a hundred pounds of blood metal, perhaps enough to make a thousand forcibles.

  I shall have to send it to my facilitators immediately, Lord Despair thought. A thousand endowments will give me the strength I need to resist the coming attack.

  Inside, something eased. The Earth s warning was not as persistent. But it was still there.

  "Your gift is appreciated," he said, turning away from the wall of weapons and drawing closer. "Now, tell me of the ill news."

  Kryssidia knelt. "Master, your warriors at Caer Luciare have discovered the pleasures afforded by the forcibles. The Fang Guard have taken over the fortress, and they are taking endowments from many warriors. The place is filled with carnage, with fallen warriors strewn about by the thousands. They have not been felled by axes-but with forcibles.

  "The Fang Guards imagine that they are a great nation, and that Caer Luciare now rivals Rugassa in power. We demanded forcibles, but their leader, Chulspeth, brandished a weapon from the small folk at us-a powerful staff filled with runes-and said, Tell your emperor that I have sent him all of the forcibles he will get. We have taken many endowments, and we have a weapon now that will kill the Death Lords. Tell him to surrender. If he wants to live, he will do so under my rule. Tell him to come himself-and grovel before me. Perhaps I will let him lick my boots." Kryssidia added. "Since they would not give us forcibles, we dug some blood metal ourselves."

  Despair s blood rushed from his face, and he stood for a moment fighting back a cold fury. He had not received a single forcible from Chulspeth.

  The fool.

  He considered how to fight, what warriors to send. It had to be someone he trusted, and it had to be someone who could battle a Runelord with hundreds of endowments.

  Lord Despair had no warriors with endowments to match, but he had servants with other powers.

  Vulgnash. He felt inside himself, and felt peace. He had used his Earth Powers to choose Vulgnash, put him under protection. And so he could send the Knight Eternal into battle. The Earth did not warn against it. Vulgnash s skills as a flameweaver would do nicely. And with his endowments of metabolism, he could fly to Caer Luciare and back in only a few hours.

  Yes, he would do nicely. It would give him a chance to atone. This mess, after all, was his fault. He had gifted the Fang Guards with endowments of bloodlust, and had left them untamed.

  But Despair could not spare his pet at the moment. The human attack was imminent, and Vulgnash would be needed here.

  "I will send Vulgnash tonight. Tell him what you ve seen. You will go with him to punish the Fang Guards. Tell him to burn Chulspeth. There is to be a new lord at Caer Luciare, one who will do my bidding…" Despair considered. He needed someone he could trust, but someone whose presence he could spare. Kryssidia had been gifted with a dozen endowments in the past two days. Over the last few millennia, Lord Despair had elevated his Death Lords to the highest positions because he could commune with them from afar. But having a physical body, it seemed, now offered more substantial benefits. "You, Kryssidia, shall keep the order at Luciare. You shall take endowments there, no less than two hundred, and you shall hold the title of emperor of Luciare."

  "I am honored," Kryssidia said, bowing low.

  Despair had taken some endowments already-brawn, stamina, metabolism, and grace. He would need more for the coming battle. "Take the blood metal to my facilitators quickly, and have them begin making forcibles and extorting endowments. I want a thousand endowments in the next five hours."

  The demand was outrageous, impossible. There weren t enough facilitators to do the work. But the need was upon him.

  Despair felt inside himself, listening to the Earth s warnings.

  Yes, the danger was still there, but it had grown less. The humans were coming soon, but not with sufficient force.

  Deep inside, he heard the voice whispering. "Now is the time. Choose to save the seeds of mankind."

  But Despair had no desire to choose further. He d tried to use the newfound protective powers to choose his Death Lords, but they were so far gone toward death that he was powerless to save them.

  All right then, he thought, I will choose.

  The Knights Eternal had picked up the blood metal and were racing to take it to the facilitators.

  He turned to the fleeing Knights Eternal. "I choose you," Despair whispered.

  He felt a connection made, weak and tenuous. With one foot in the grave, and one foot out, the Knights Eternal were almost beyond his powers to reach. He wondered if, when he sent them word of danger, they would even be able to hear his call.

  That is the Earth Spirit s problem, he thought, and laughed.

  Human flesh. That was what the Earth wanted him to choose.

  Lord Despair opened a latch to the nearest door and found one of his guards. "O Great Wyrm," the guard said, "we have brought more small folk to give you endowments, as you requested. They await you in the Sanctum."

  "Well done," Despair said. "I shall be there shortly."

  The small folk. They could be both a cursing and a blessing. He considered the Wizard Fallion. There was a slight chance that the small folk would succeed in rescuing him.

  But there was a way that Despair could keep track of him.

  The Earth Spirit wishes
me to choose, Despair thought, and so I will choose.

  He immediately called his guards to escort him to the dungeons-to the cell of Fallion Orden.

  Vulgnash sat over the wizard, a forcible in hand, filing a rune at its head. The room was as cold as an ice field with the north winds lashing across it. Vulgnash leapt up as Despair neared; he raised his wings to full span, as if in salute.

  "What would please my master?" Vulgnash asked.

  Despair peered down at Fallion Orden, who lay sprawled unconscious upon his belly. Frost rimed his collar, and he was barely breathing. Using his Earth Powers, Despair looked into Fallion s heart.

  Here was a man who dreamed simple dreams. Fallion did not want to rule the world. Lord Despair had never wondered what the young wizard might desire most of all, yet Despair knew that he would need to know.

  There it was in his imagination-a small fishing boat, a coracle that he could row out onto the sea at dawn, and there cast his nets and hopefully be done with work for the day by noon. He wanted a cottage at the edge of the sea with a fine thatch roof to keep out the winter rain. He wanted children sitting on his knee as he told them bedtime stories. He wanted a wife to hold at night, and to cherish.

  Such simple things. So repulsively wholesome.

  "Yes," the Earth s voice whispered deep inside him. "This one is worthy to inhabit the world to come."

  Despair raised his left arm to the square and said, "The Earth hide you. The Earth heal you. The Earth make you its own. I choose you through the dark times to come."

  When it was done, Despair stared down at the wounded boy.

  Now you are truly mine, he thought. Wherever you might go, I will be able to find you.

  "Vulgnash," he said. "It is time to begin the tortures in earnest. Give another hundred endowments of compassion to Fallion Orden today. It is time to force Fallion to tell us what we need to know."

  17

  FLAMES

  Despair is the greatest of all teachers. Others may instruct you in some matters, but Despair can teach you all that you need to know.

  — From the Wyrmling Catechism

  The Emir Tuul Ra felt taut with anticipation. The five heroes had spent the better part of the morning racing toward Rugassa, and he knew that they were near. He felt so overwhelmed with emotion that he wanted to shout.

  There was hope, yes. Finally the people of Caer Luciare were going to strike back against Rugassa. But there was fear in his heart, also, and mourning. His people had been driven from their homes, from the very world of their native birth, and now squatted beyond its borders, plotting revenge.

  But revenge would be hard to come by. The wyrmlings had a mountain of blood metal, and they knew how to bend it to their will. In a matter of days, the wyrmlings would have it in their power to take so many endowments that the folk of Caer Luciare might never be able to break the wyrmlings stranglehold on the world.

  So there was a moment, a brief time that they might be able to strike. Today is the day, he thought.

  Preparations were being made. All morning he had felt endowments being vectored to him, some from men.

  Metabolism, that was most of what he got. Seven endowments of speed. He was not the strongest in the group, far from it. But he would be the quickest, and he had learned long ago that great speed is enough in battle.

  But now his quiver was full. The endowments had stopped coming an hour ago, though he could still see Talon growing in power from moment to moment.

  They raced now along a broken road. In the binding of the worlds, the old human highway had crossed through the wyrmling wastes. The road was here, and it was serviceable for the most part. But in many places rocks had risen, creating a nasty path, and thorns and thistles burst up through the ground everywhere. Still, it had been beaten down some. It was rife with wyrmling sign. Troops had marched over it recently.

  So the company raced through open fields in the lowlands, and over wooded hills, each of them running with superhuman speed.

  The Cormar twins took the lead, sprinting side by side. They moved like dancers, each stepping forward with the left leg at precisely the same time, each swinging the right forward the same.

  Yet their movements were too choreographed. They weren t dancers. They were marionettes, moving to a single will. The sight of it was somehow profoundly disturbing. The strangeness of it only seemed to grow.

  The group stopped for a brief meal just after noon. There was little in the way of formal plans. They hoped to meet up with Rhianna, find out what news she might have to tell. But if they did not, so be it. Their assault would continue today, as soon as Talon and the Cormar twins finished getting endowments vectored to them.

  So the five stopped at midday and set a small fire, a gleaming gem of heat and light that beckoned to the emir as always, and they prepared to cook some meat. It had been easy enough to come by. As they had run through the woods, a pair of grouse had fluttered up at their sides.

  With his endowments of speed, time seemed to have nearly stopped, and the emir watched them-fat and ponderous and tempting-as they sought to escape.

  He altered his course in midstride, leaping into the air, and harvested the pair of them, and now after pulling off the skin and putting them on a skewer, he went down to wash his hands in a nearby brook.

  Talon squatted beside the stream among some willows and splashed water under her arms, then ran it over her face and neck as best she could.

  The emir was downstream from her a pace. He washed off his own hands quickly, scrubbing them with coarse sand from the bottom of the stream, then let the dirty water glide away for a moment. He then cupped his hands and took a long draught, unconcerned that the water might be mingled with Talon s dirt and sweat.

  It wasn t that he didn t notice her muddying his water. But he was used to fighting in skirmishes with small bands of men. He was used to tight quarters and a lack of privacy.

  The emir leaned back on his heels, and sighed. "I thank the Powers that be that I have lived to see this day," he said, glancing over to Talon. "Finally, I hope to free my brother, Areth Sul Urstone."

  Areth Sul Urstone was not his brother by blood, of course, only a brother-in-arms. They were as close as two men can be.

  "It is a great day," Talon replied.

  "Hmmm…" The emir signaled his agreement, then peered at Talon inquisitively. "It is said that you knew Areth s shadow self?"

  "I did," Talon agreed. "We called him Gaborn Val Orden, the Earth King."

  "I have never known another man like Areth Sul Urstone," the emir said. "Never could there be a better friend. He was not just generous. Some men can share what they have. But Areth was the kind who would give you all that he had and regret that he did not have more to give.

  "It was not that he was courageous. Many men can go into battle with little fear. But Areth had a kind of courage that went deeper than that. He had the courage to stick to his principles, regardless of the consequences.

  "It was not that he was honest, it was that he was unwavering in his faithfulness. Areth Sul Urstone s word was stronger than flint.

  "Tell me," the emir asked, "is that the kind of man that he was on your world, too?"

  Talon thought for a moment, as if trying to decide how to frame her answer. "He was all of that and more. He was a man of such deep compassion that it became a vice. He loved others too much for his own good."

  "Aaaah," the emir said. "I have always believed that of Areth, too. He suffers when others are hurt. Many times I have thought,

  I should gather a band of men, break into Rugassa, and set him free. Yet I knew what it would cost. Even if we managed to free him, the backlash would have been unbearable. The wyrmlings would have struck so hard, Caer Luciare would have been destroyed-and Areth would never have been able to be at peace with that. Indeed, I think that he would rather have rotted in his cell for an eternity, knowing that others lived with some degree of peace and prosperity, than to be set free.

&n
bsp; "That is why I captured the wyrmling princess. I hoped that by taking her, I could buy his life."

  "And do you think he is even still alive?" Talon asked. "I mean today-now that the wyrmlings have got their princess back?"

  "I hope so."

  "And if he is alive, is he still the man that you knew fourteen years ago?"

  The Emir Tuul Ra did not answer quickly. He lowered his head in thought. Talon knew that men could be broken. With enough pain and deprivation, even the strongest men turned into craven animals. And the tormentors of Rugassa had turned the breaking of men into an art form.

  "I can only hope that my brother is alive, and that there is something left of what he once was. I intend to set him free, and if the people will accept him, I hope to see him sit upon the throne. No man is more deserving."

  "He is fortunate to have you as a friend, and an ally," Talon said.

  The emir did not like compliments. He never quite knew what to say.

  "Now," the emir said, "I must ask you of this Fallion Orden-the son of his shadow self, the son that, in my world, at least, he never had. What kind of man is he?"

  "He is a young man," Talon said. "I have followed at his back since I could crawl, and so I know him well, perhaps as well as anyone alive…"

  "So I have heard," the emir said.

  "Everything that you have said about the father, is doubly true of Fallion…" Here she hesitated.

  "But?"

  "Everything but the compassion," she admitted at last. "The Earth King s compassion was the stuff of legend. He loved his people so much that in the end he gave his life for them, and went traveling the world, seeking out good and humble folk, and bestowing his blessings upon them. Even long after the threat was over, he kept traveling the world, never able to rest."

  "Perhaps," the emir said, "he could not rest because he knew that the war was not over. My father said that sometimes when a war is coming, you can smell it far off, years or decades in the brewing. Other times it is thrust upon you at a moment s notice."