What luck! he thought. I have one of the girls, and Vulgnash will capture the other. Surely he loves one of them-perhaps both. What would he give up, in order to save them from the tormentors?
He reached down and stroked the girl s cheek. Such a precious thing.
"Keep them all alive," Despair said, "until I have a chance to question them."
"Even this one?" a guard asked, kicking the wyrmling girl. Her guards had let her break free for just an instant in the battle, so that a wight might take her.
Despair considered. Of them all, it seemed least likely that Fallion would have forged a relationship with a wyrmling. But one never knew.
In the binding of the worlds, many folk had merged with their shadow selves-humans as well as wyrmlings. Had Fallion known this girl s shadow self? Is that why the girl had turned against her own kind?
"Keep her alive, too," Despair said.
"Will our dungeon hold them?" a guard asked.
"The cells were made to withstand even the toughest wyrmling warriors," Despair said. "And though some of these may have the strength of ten men, their bones are as brittle as ours. They won t be able to batter down the iron doors, and even the smallest of them could not squeeze between the bars.
"Still, put only one captive to a cell. Search them thoroughly and remove any weapons. Then chain them securely; allow none of the guards to get near their cells. Vulgnash alone will be their jailer."
At that Despair hesitated. Vulgnash was off chasing the winged woman, and would soon return either with or without her. Despair hated consigning Vulgnash to such a mundane task as guard duty. But prisoners such as these demanded his skills.
Despair dared not let common troops near the Runelords.
Yet… there were other duties that Vulgnash needed to attend to. There was the uprising at Caer Luciare, where the foolish Fang Guards were taking endowments from their kin, believing that they could best Despair.
They had to be punished. Despair considered sending his troops, captained of course by his chosen warriors. But the Earth warned against it. None of his lords could withstand the new powers that had arisen at Caer Luciare-none but Vulgnash.
So Vulgnash would have to go. Despair needed to regain control of the blood-metal mines, for he sensed a coming danger. Not today, not even the next. It might be days away-a week. But an attack was coming.
There was nothing for it. Despair needed Vulgnash to pull double duty.
The guards lifted the prisoners and carried them down to the dungeons. Despair followed, to make sure that none of the captives woke or tried to escape.
Once they were all stripped of weapons, and shackled in their cells, Despair stopped to check on Fallion.
He was dead asleep, with the frost still riming his lips. The room was bone-numbingly cold.
Fallion cried out in his sleep, "No! Not that!"
Despair smiled and wondered what the tormentors were doing to the boy s Dedicates. Fallion had been given another hundred endowments of compassion. Right now, the tormentors were in the process of removing the excess body parts from Fallion s Dedicates. Despair had told the tormentors that in his opinion, any body part on a Dedicate was to be deemed "excessive."
"Sleep, my little friend," Despair whispered. "All too soon, we will wake you to your horror."
Lord Despair left the prisoners to their cold cells, took a thumb-lantern, and went stalking to his throne room with his head bent, his brow furrowed, to await Vulgnash s return.
The glow worms that adorned the ceilings and walls did not give enough light for his all-too-human eyes.
In his throne room he took reports from his facilitators. Despair had garnered his allotment of a thousand endowments, and Fallion had been given his. A test had been run on a wyrmling, to learn if by taking an endowment of sight from a human, he might abide the daylight. The results were good, but not impeccable.
This pleased Despair. He ordered more endowments, but found that his supply of blood metal had been exhausted, so he sent his chief facilitator away, promising to get more ore soon.
Afterward, he went to his map room and brooded.
If my enemies are taking endowments, he realized, they must have Dedicates. All that I need to do to ease the danger is to send my troops to slaughter those Dedicates.
He considered the map, but it was of little use. So much had changed in the binding. His scouts were going out by night, telling of cities that had sprung up where none should be. His troops had already vanquished everything that they d seen. But a hundred miles from Rugassa, all was unknown.
He did not have enough Knights Eternal to scout the lands nearby.
Lord Scathain will lend me some aid, he thought. A few thousand Darkling Glories should suffice.
His earth senses warned of dangers far off. That news gladdened him. Nothing would disturb his preparations for days.
Or is the danger really so far away? he wondered.
By sacrificing one of his chosen, he had disappointed the Earth Spirit that loaned him its powers. He knew that. He had felt the spirit withdraw from him, and when it came time to fight, he had felt it difficult to advise Vulgnash of danger.
It was a warning from the Earth Spirit itself. If Lord Despair did not submit to the Earth s wishes, he might lose his protective powers.
He could not let that happen.
In the future, I cannot let one of my chosen people die, Despair decided. I must heed Earth s every whim for the time being, regain its trust. I must act the perfect Earth King.
But it galled him. Lord Despair was on the verge of seizing control of worlds. Who was this Earth Spirit to tell him what to do?
It was late afternoon when Vulgnash returned, with the Darkling Glory at his side. The two seemed to have become fast friends. Quietly they approached Lord Despair s throne.
The throne itself was a massive thing, with a back that rose ten feet in the air. It was carved from the bones of a world wyrm, and thus was yellow-white, the color of aging teeth.
Vulgnash strode into the room, head down. His wings were raised in salute, but Lord Despair noticed that they were not raised to the full. He looked weak, submissive. The Darkling Glory stood at his back, glaring.
"I have failed you, my master," Vulgnash said. "The girl escaped. I followed her as far as I could, until I began to go dayblind."
For a long moment, Lord Despair sat in disbelief. He d felt certain that Vulgnash would catch the girl. In part he felt that way because he had supreme confidence in Vulgnash s abilities. In part he d felt certain because he sensed a complete lack of danger.
The girl could be a threat, but he cast his mind about, and once again he felt sure that his empire was secure. There would be no attack upon him for days.
"Do not worry," Despair said at last. "There is no harm done."
"The girl could pose a danger," Vulgnash objected. "She is a powerful Runelord. She could gather an army and return."
"If she does," Despair said, "we shall have another chance to catch her. Won t we?"
Vulgnash looked up, thoughtful.
Despair assured him, "She will not attack soon-not today or tomorrow or the day after. Of that I am certain. She fears us."
"But…" Vulgnash said. "This one has taken many endowments."
"Of course," Despair said. "And she will try to get more-which means that it is all the more important that we secure our ore at Caer Luciare. Right now, that is my greatest concern. The Fang Guards there have rebelled, and now refuse to send me forcibles. I want you to punish them, with finality."
"I will leave at dusk," Vulgnash promised.
"I have a better idea. Do you have any more forcibles?"
Vulgnash had been toying with them in his cell while he guarded Fallion, creating new designs for his master. It was he who had devised the rune of compassion. "A handful is all."
"Make a pair of forcibles with a rune of sight. Then force the small folk to grant endowments to you and Kryssidia."
"The small folk see well in full sun. I had a facilitator do a test while you were hunting. Once a human gives an endowment of sight, our wyrmlings will be able to abide the daylight." Vulgnash smiled, his huge canines showing.
"Thank you, master," Vulgnash said. But he did not leave. Instead he dropped to one knee. "There is another matter…"
"Which is?"
"While following the girl, we saw reavers, a great throng of them. They are a little more than two hundred miles from the fortress. If they stay their course, they could reach us tonight."
"They pose no threat," Despair said. "Most likely they will turn aside. The Earth gives me no warning." He was growing tired of worrying. "Go to the dungeons before you leave, and make certain that our prisoners are secure, one last time."
"Very well," Vulgnash said.
The Knight Eternal rose from his knee and went stalking from the room, his wings raised more proudly. That left only the Darkling Glory there before the throne.
"Well now, my friend," Despair said, "let us go and have some dinner, and we shall consider how best to conquer a million million shadow worlds."
21
A LITTLE VENGEANCE
All men should strive to be cunning and strong. The Great Wyrm will take vengeance upon those who prove to be weak and foolish.
— From the Wyrmling Catechism
Vulgnash felt a peculiar craving. The dead are not subject to most human passions, at least not to the same degree as humans. Hunger they feel as a primal craving for life force, one that makes every cell in their bodies ache with need, much as a choking man burns with need for air. But there is little place in them for lust, or vanity, or compassion.
So this craving annoyed him. It was an ache for vengeance. The human woman had escaped him, had shown him to be weak in front of Lord Despair.
Vulgnash had seen his lord s displeasure.
The dungeons again, he thought, as he climbed down the winding stone stairs. I will be forever in the dungeons.
He yearned to be off on some more dangerous assignment. Watching over the Wizard Fallion had its dangers, it was true, but Fallion posed little threat.
Vulgnash went to the dungeons, found Fallion there. The floor was rimed with frost, and now snow fans were forming on the bars and walls. Fallion was out cold. Sound asleep, nearly comatose.
The rest of the prisoners were much the same. Talon lay still, barely breathing. The wyrmling girl appeared to be dead. Daylan Hammer s breathing was equally shallow. Only the emir seemed to be breathing heavily, and he groaned in his sleep as if at a nightmare.
Vulgnash tried rattling the doors. They were solid iron and each weighed a thousand pounds. He could not move them. The locks were secure.
Vulgnash paid one last call upon the Wizard Fallion.
He was firmly chained by a leg to the wall.
Vulgnash decided to have some fun with him. He took a cot from another cell, and took some old rope, then bound Fallion s arms and legs so tightly that it would cut off the circulation.
Then he dragged a cot into the cell, laid Fallion upon it faceup, and held Fallion s head back so that he could not see his own body.
He gave Fallion just enough heat to warm him so that he began to revive. Fallion came awake, regaining consciousness in fits and starts, so that he muttered and shook, trying to rouse himself.
When consciousness reached him, Fallion simply lay there on the cot with growing horror on his face. He struggled and tried to move his arms and feet, but could get no feeling.
Vulgnash knew what he was thinking. Dozens of his Dedicates had been mutilated, their arms and legs removed, and Fallion could not tell if he had any appendages.
"Fool," Vulgnash hissed. "Without arms or legs, you look like a worm. Squirm for me. Squirm for your master."
"No, please!" Fallion called, trying to wriggle, trying to see if he had arms.
Vulgnash merely set a foot upon his forehead and held his head back so that he could not see.
"You thanked my master for letting you feel the pain of his subjects. So as your reward, he has cut the arms and legs off of thousands of them, and he has let you feel their pain. Would you like to see them?"
Suddenly Fallion lashed out with his senses, tried to pull heat from the walls of the cell. But the stone was cold and held almost no heat at all. Fallion s was a pitiful attempt at escape.
Vulgnash pulled the heat from Fallion once again, sent him deep into a swoon.
That should hold him for a few more hours, Vulgnash thought. And he will dream…
Vulgnash stalked out of the dungeon, found Kryssidia, and took his last four forcibles to the chief facilitator. It did not take fifteen minutes for the facilitator to round up some small folk and rip the sight from two of them. The effect at first seemed minimal. He could not see any better in the darkness, but now the glow worms on the wall gave off a color he d never seen-a dim green.
With the last two forcibles, Vulgnash took more endowments of metabolism, and told Kryssidia to meet him in his chambers.
Quickly Vulgnash raced up through the tunnels, climbing the stairs, like a caterpillar winding its way up a twig, until he reached his own spartan quarters, where his crypt lay.
The sun was dying on the horizon, a bloody thing dropping toward its grave. Red clouds scudded along the sky line, promising a coming storm.
For the first time in his life, Vulgnash looked out upon a world of color-blues and purples in the sky, grays and tans and greens in the forests.
So this is what a human sees, he thought in wonder.
The endowment had worked well enough. The daylight annoyed him, but it did not hurt as much now. It was bright enough so that the idea of flying repelled him, but darkness would be here soon.
He went to his closet, got a fresh red robe, and strapped on a sharpened long sword as black as obsidian.
He halted for a moment near the door to his own parapet and glanced longingly at his own tomb.
Ah, he thought, to sleep, perchance to dream.
Vulgnash felt at peace. Torturing Fallion had salved his wounds, fed some of his need for vengeance.
But more than that, he felt secure knowing that he would be going into battle with Despair at his side.
As a Knight Eternal, Vulgnash had never been truly alive. He had no soul, and could not harbor or feed a locus. Thus, there was no way that he could communicate across the leagues with Despair, as the Death Lords did.
But now Lord Despair was displaying some new power.
He can speak to my mind, Vulgnash realized, with the powers of an Earth King, though he cannot hear my thoughts.
This development delighted Vulgnash. It almost made him equal to the Death Lords, and it raised his value to the master. At the same time it afforded him some privacy.
But an onus was upon Vulgnash. His master would be angered if he took too long to punish the Fang Guards.
Kryssidia came shortly, and the two of them raced to the nearest window and leapt from the tower, unfolding their crimson wings and taking flight.
They swooped low, so that the shadows of distant mountains covered them, and flew madly above the trees, careering this way and that, using their own momentum to hurl them forward faster and faster.
Day faded to dusk, and dusk surrendered to darkness.
As he flew even with Kryssidia, the Knight Eternal apprised him a little better of the situation at Caer Luciare. The Fang Guards were taking endowments, and they thought themselves powerful enough to challenge the empire. They were led by an egotistical fool named Chulspeth who did not know yet that Despair had taken physical form and now dwelt at Rugassa. Nor of course would Chulspeth be aware that Despair had gained unheard-of powers, the protective gifts of an Earth King.
Vulgnash knew Chulspeth. He was the leader of the Fang Guards. Vulgnash had personally chosen the man for the honor of being the first to take an endowment of bloodlust.
Once a
gain, Vulgnash thought, I have not served my master well.
Kryssidia grew hungry, and the Knights Eternal slowed their flight for a time, veering from their course as they hunted. They found a small settlement where a little smoke from evening cooking fires hung in a haze.
It was a guard post of some kind for the small folk, a mountain village with nothing but a wall made of wood. Guards paced about in towers.
The Knights Eternal swept into the village, dodging arrow fire as they came. They spotted children playing in the street, children that leapt up in terror at the cries of their parents.
Vulgnash swooped low and scooped up a toddler on the wing, and Kryssidia did the same. The parents screamed frantically and chased after them, shaking their fists and hurling curses.
We are like jays, robbing the nests of lesser birds, Vulgnash thought as he placed his hands over the squirming boy s face and began to drain him. Child or adult, the spirits of these creatures provided the same amount of nourishment. So he and Kryssidia drained their prey, then let their corpses, their empty husks, rain from the sky.
Moments later, he heard his master s voice in his mind. When you finish punishing my enemies, return with all haste. Bring back more blood-metal ore for forcibles.
"Yes, Lord," Vulgnash whispered to the wind, for he knew that his master could not hear him.
As they neared Caer Luciare, Vulgnash heard his master s voice in his mind once again. Careful, my friend. Careful. The enemy has set a trap. When you land, they will attack. It is not with a sword that you can win this battle.
Vulgnash signaled to Kryssidia with a slight tremor of the wing, and both of them veered to the left and landed in the woods.
"Our master bids us go in with fire," Vulgnash said, and without preamble he kicked a few dead leaves into a pile, along with some wind-fallen twigs, then used a portion of his own body heat to give birth to a small flame.
He let it lick at the leaves for a few moments, growing in power and might, then twisted the flames so that they took a small alder. A warm breeze nourished the flames until soon they raged and leapt up the tree, and from there began to spread through the detritus on the forest floor.
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