David Farland - The Wyrmling Horde

"Not all flameweavers are evil," Daylan said. "There are men who have mastered their passions to such a degree that Fire could not control them. In ancient times, some of these men were more than monsters. They became vessels of light, pure and radiant, filled with wisdom and intelligence and compassion. They were great healers. Fire revealed the future to them, and hidden dangers, and thus they were a boon to their people.

"Hence, they were called the Bright Ones, and even today, the ignorant people of Fallion s world call all men of the netherworld such, not realizing that thereby they are bestowing false honors upon many." Daylan jutted his chin toward Lord Erringale, and Talon knew that he, too, must be a skilled flameweaver. "Of all Bright Ones, the man you call Fallion Orden was perhaps the greatest."

"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."