The Wyrmling Horde (22 page)

“My little Fallion?” Thull-turock asked in astonishment.

“Has been born time and again,” Daylan said, “a thousand times over. For eons he has sought a way to bind the worlds, and finally he has succeeded.

“If the Bright Ones' prophecies prove true, great things are at hand: a war that will rage across the universe, and that, if all goes well, could end with all of the worlds reuniting into one perfect whole, where death will be but a memory, and all pains and wants vanquished.

“That world is what Fallion seeks to create. That is what our enemy hopes to thwart—or to sieze.”

The emir had been listening carefully, and now he seemed lost in thought. Talon knew what Daylan was asking of him. He would have to sacrifice much. By taking endowments, he would be giving up his life in service for his fellow men. By studying the lore of flameweavers, he would be giving up his life in service to Fire.

It was a slippery tightrope to try to walk. No man can serve two masters. Raj Ahten had failed miserably.

How could the emir hope to do more?

“Daylan,” Thull-turock said, “if you think there is nothing to fear from the emir, then you are mad!”

“No,” Daylan said. “I am not mad. But I am desperate, and one might reason that desperation is its own kind of madness. Certainly, too often it leads to folly. But only in taking this desperate course can we hope to win a nearly impossible reward.

“But I must tell you, Thull-turock, that I believe that your fears are not justified. It was neither the love of the forcible nor of flames that Raj Ahten succumbed to in the end. At the very last, Raj Ahten demanded that others call him by a new name—Scathain, Lord of the Ashes. Have you heard this?”

“I have heard that he went by that name,” Thull-turock said. “What of it?”

“That name is well known here in the netherworld,” Lord Erringale said loudly, his voice cutting through the room. He gazed down, held his hands reflectively. “It is the name of a powerful locus, a wyrm if you will. Among the loci, Scathain was second-in-command to Despair herself. Many worlds has that one destroyed.”

This news seemed to discomfit the emir more than anything that had been said. He was at a disadvantage in the argument, for he could not have known what had happened with Raj Ahten. But he understood the lore of wyrms.

“If this is true,” the emir reasoned, “then when your Raj Ahten was killed, his wyrm did not die with him! How do we know that this Scathain will not seize me? How do we know that I am not already host to a wyrm?”

Around the circle, there were cries of agreement. Talon glanced at Drewish Madoc and saw the young man's eyes glimmering insanely. He loved this. He loved watching a good man be destroyed.

“Consider this,” Daylan called to the crowd, “the emir is a generous man, a giving man, and a courageous one. He has always spoken the truth in my presence, so long as it is polite to do so and not too hard for his hearer to bear. His word has ever been his bond. He is faithful to his people, and has no lust for honor, no craving for wealth.

“A man who is infected with a wyrm doesn't retain such virtues. And Scathain is one of the most sinister of all wyrms. Even if Scathain had entered the emir and tried to hide his lusts and deceit, he would not be able to do so for long.

“The emir is pure. No wyrm has taken him. And so long as he remains pure of heart, none can, not even one so powerful as Scathain.”

At that there were also cries of agreement. Daylan Hammer had assuaged nearly all of Thull-turock's concerns, and Talon could feel that the crowd was swaying toward Daylan's cause.

“It may be,” Daylan said loudly, addressing the crowd, “that the only reason that the raj succumbed to a wyrm had more to do with the raj's ignorance than his weaknesses. The lore of the loci had been all but lost upon his world.”

“They knew nothing of the loci?” Lord Erringale asked, astonished.

“The knowledge of loci was purposely hidden from the populace thousands of years ago. There was a time on Fallion's world when those suspected of harboring a locus were executed summarily, and many innocent men and women died; much evil was done in the name of self-preservation.

“The folk of Luciare have had similar purges, though never to the same extent.

“And so that knowledge was concealed.”

“Thus a man who might have been a great ally on Fallion's world succumbed to a wyrm, never suspecting that such a creature even existed. The raj took one misstep at a time, heedlessly bumbling down the path of destruction, until at the very last he became so filled with rage and lust for power that he could not withstand the wyrm when it seized him.”

There were looks of astonishment on people's faces. From birth, Talon's mother Gatunyea had instilled a fear of evil in her. Talon had been trained to fear nothing so much as the thought that she might someday be seized by a wyrm.

Daylan said at last, “So, it will not happen to the emir. He has known of the existence of wyrms since childhood, and he has ranged far to avoid the danger.”

The facilitator clasped his hands behind his back, and peered down at the ground. “I don't like this,” Thull-turock said. “I don't like the way we're rushing into this. The emir needs to be tested in so many ways. Yet you urge me to hasten to make forcibles.”

“We have no choice,” Daylan said. “Our enemies have set the timetable. Already the wyrmlings are digging up a mountain of blood metal and have sent their first shipment to Rugassa. The journey there will take them three nights—perhaps less, since they will be in a hurry to please their lord.

“Think what will happen once the emperor gets those shipments: he'll begin creating his own champions in earnest. And who will he grant the endowments to?”

“The Knights Eternal,” Thull-turock said, as if chilled by the thought.

“The emperor has millions of people that he can use as Dedicates. What's more, Rugassa lies close to the borders of Beldinook. By now, the emperor is already getting acquainted with his new neighbors. What do you think he will do with the small folk?”

In the old days, Talon knew, the wyrmlings would have just butchered them, harvesting their glands for their fearsome elixirs or simply using their bodies for meat. They would not even have considered taking slaves. But in this new world, the wyrmlings would put the small folk to better uses: they could put them to the forcible, take their attributes.

“I see,” Thull-turock said.

“We cannot let that happen. We cannot let any forcibles reach Rugassa. We must act swiftly. We must have a war party take endowments and be ready to leave tomorrow—at the latest. And
we cannot fail
! My heart warns me that we may get only one chance at this, one chance to save ourselves before the wyrmlings take their mountain of blood metal and seize control of the world for all time.”

“A single day is not much time to grant endowments.”

Daylan said, “Our champions won't need a full complement. They won't need to be battle-ready. We only need them to get started. We can pass more endowments to them as they travel, vectoring them through Dedicates. Erringale's people will help you make the forcibles.”

“How many shall we send into battle?” Thull-turock asked.

“We will need some men to help carry those that we rescue. We'll need others to act as point and rear guards. At a minimum, we need four champions, probably five. I would like more, but it would stretch our resources to try to endow so many. I would invite the Cormar twins,” Daylan suggested.
“They already have some endowments and they proved themselves at the battle for Caer Luciare. I would like to go, too, for I have a few endowments to my credit. That leaves only two openings. The emir is the best man for the job. . . .”

Instantly, Talon knew that she had to be among that war party. Fallion was more than just a friend to her. He'd been raised as her brother, and she loved him dearly. It was only right that she go with the rescue party.

Thull-turock said, “You sent Fallion's woman, Rhianna, to seek for Dedicates among the small folk. Can we afford to wait for her to return?”

“I sent her mainly to forewarn the small folk,” Daylan countered, “so that they can protect themselves from the wyrmling troops. We must hinder the wyrmlings any way that we can. It may be that the small folk will offer us some support, but we cannot rely upon them, and we dare not wait.”

Talon wished that she had known where Rhianna was going earlier. She would have hugged her and bade her farewell. It would not be easy trying to find allies for Fallion. But no one in the world loved Fallion as much as Rhianna did. No one would try as hard as she.

“You propose taking a great risk,” Thull-turock said.

“Take the risk with me,” Daylan begged. “We need to stand together on this. We need the emir, and he will need your people to grant him endowments.”

“And what if we fail? What if this great wrym takes the emir? What if we breathe life into a monster?”

“There is a fiend in each of us,” Daylan said, “in every man, woman, and child. The emir wrestled his into submission long ago.” Daylan said this with finality, as if he was sure of his argument.

“And if it escapes?”

“Then I will kill the emir myself,” Daylan replied.

The emir shook his head in dismay. “I would take my own life, rather than allow a wyrm to have it.”

All of them were quiet for a moment. The facilitator seemed unsure. “Help us,” Daylan begged Thull-turock.
“Help us all create a better world. This is not just about me and you. It is not just a war confined to these few thousand people. Worlds are at stake here. Eternities are at stake. We fight for things beyond your ability to even dream. . . .”

“Is not every war such a war?” Thull-turock asked. “At least, we tell ourselves so.”

The men stood a moment, poised in thought.

Talon wondered at the consequences of this public argument. In order to grant endowments to another, it had to be done willingly. But who would give endowments to the Emir Tuul Ra now, knowing what all of them knew? Even if their minds wanted to give up the endowment, the heart would balk.

Daylan Hammer seemed to have won his argument, but he had done so only in appearance.

The emir held his daughter, Siyaddah, trying to comfort her. But it seemed to Talon that the emir was the one who would need comforting. Thull-turock had poisoned the crowd against him.

After a lifetime of proving himself to Talon's people, the emir needed to do so once again.

Siyaddah peered up at the emir and declared loudly. “I want to be first to offer an endowment to my father. I grant you my speed, that you might hurry into battle, if you will take it?”

No daughter had ever broken her father's heart so cruelly. The emir needed endowments. He needed his people to step forward, and by offering her speed, Siyaddah was urging others to follow her example.

At the same time, she was placing herself forever beyond his reach. For once she gave an endowment of metabolism, she would fall into an enchanted slumber, never to waken until he died, or else to die in her sleep.

More than that, she was placing herself beyond the heart of any man. The emir had long hoped that she would marry his closest friend, Areth Sul Urstone. She herself was more interested in Fallion. Now, neither of the men would ever win her heart.

It was a cruel gift to offer, for the emir could not refuse it. He had sworn to save his friend.

“Very well,” Erringale said. “It is in the finest tradition of the Ael that those who know the candidate best be first to offer up an endowment. Who else among you will grant this greatest of gifts?”

There was a moment of utter silence as each of the emir's supporters waited for someone else to offer an endowment.

This isn't right, Talon thought. The emir is one of the best swordsmen in the clans, and he is by far the finest strategist. He knows the enemy better than does any other man.

And suddenly, Talon realized how the emir might prove himself to his people once again.

She strode to the emir and slapped his face, hard.

“Emir Tuul Ra,” she said, “I challenge you to a duel. I'll fight you for the right to win a place in this rescue party.”

  11