David Farland - The Wyrmling Horde

Rhianna had never imagined what it would be like to be a powerful Runelord.

With three endowments of wit, she was able to recall nearly everything that she saw and heard flawlessly.

Her endowments of hearing and scent seemed to open whole new worlds of perception, for with endowments of scent from dogs, the world seemed to expand, and her mind came alive to nuances of smell and taste that had always been beyond mere mortals. She could taste the scent of blood on the wind from miles away, and suddenly she realized how this keen new sense might warn her of future dangers.

With three endowments of hearing, she became aware of women whispering in their tents a hundred yards off. With endowments of sight, finches and sparrows in the far fields seemed to stand out with crystalline clarity.

She had gone nearly two days without sleep, but with her endowments of stamina, she did not feel weary.

I need never sleep again, Rhianna realized.

Late that morning, the translator arrived to question Kirissa. Sister Gadron was a small mousy woman who rode a blood mount. She smelled of sheep and children, and had marvelously white skin-almost as pale as a wyrmling s. Her long silver hair hung neatly down her back, and dark tattoos snaked along her leg and circled her wrist like bangles. She was obviously a full-blooded Inkarran.

Rhianna followed her into a tent, where Kirissa hid from the daylight beneath a sheepskin.

The sun beating through the red silken walls of the tent burned Kirissa s eyes so that she kept her head turned aside and down, and closed them as much as possible as she spoke with the Inkarran.

The presence of one of the winged ones in the room made Kirissa nervous. Among wyrmlings only the Death Lords wore wings, as did the royals. Kirissa could not be sure whom the woman had killed for the wings.

At first, the questions were easy: What is your name? Where are you from? Why are you here in the desert?

For two long hours the translator asked questions, and Kirissa answered them all. Only a few times did the questions stump her. The first was of her lineage. It was important in Inkarra, and Kirissa was able to tell Sister Gadron about her family there, but among the wyrmlings family was nothing-unless one was of royal blood.

Then it was queries about ancient history. Where did the wyrmlings hail from?

It was a question that Kirissa had never heard an answer to. The study of history was not important to wyrmlings. Time wiped away all clues to the past.

The horse-sisters grilled her about leadership. Sister Gadron asked what the emperor planned to do with the small folk? What would he do if he was attacked?

Kirissa told her, "I can only guess at the emperor s plans, but what does that matter? The Great Wyrm now walks the labyrinth. Despair himself is in charge. The emperor is now just another Death Lord, a shade."

"Who is this Great Wyrm?" Sister Gadron asked.

"Despair, the creator of heaven and earth, the great lord of all wyrms. It takes human form from time to time, and two nights ago, the Great Wyrm seized the body of a new host."

At last Sister Gadron was satisfied with Kirissa s story, unsettling though it might be. Now the questions turned to Cullossax.

"What did Cullossax do in Rugassa?" Sister Gadron asked.

Kirissa answered, "He was a tormentor. It was his job to torture and punish those who broke wyrmling laws, whether their offense consisted of actively doing wrong, or failing to do well. By killing the weak and unruly, he culled the horde."

"Why did he run? Was he your lover? Your father?"

Kirissa hesitated. "I think he wanted to destroy the horde, to help create a better society."

"So you converted him?"

Kirissa shrugged. "It appeared so."

"Can many wyrmlings be converted, do you think?"

Kirissa had never considered that question. "No," she said. "Most of them would be too afraid to run. They have heard of the terrors of life outside the keep-the burning sun, the merciless humans. I ran only because I knew that there was a better life."

Sister Gadron s next query was foolish. "Did he love you?"

"Humans love," Kirissa answered. "Wyrmlings merely spawn. It is not the same."

"Why do you have nubs on your head?" Sister Gadron asked.

"Because I am old enough to grow them."

"Do you have a wyrm feeding upon your soul?"

"How would I know?"

"Why do you want to give your soul to a wyrm?"

Again, Kirissa hesitated. "I never wanted that. Not all wyrmlings do. Only the most devout have such hopes. I was always afraid that the wyrms wished only to feed upon us."

"How many of your own wyrmling people have you killed?"

"Two," Kirissa said. "I killed another girl when I was four, and one when I was eight."

"Why did you kill them?"

"They angered me. Among the wyrmling horde, what I did was not considered wrong. I fought them with knives, and won the respect of others."

"Do you know right from wrong?"

"I know wyrmling law," Kirissa said, "and I know Inkarran law. I have a feeling that matters of right and wrong go deeper than either law."

"You said earlier that when Cullossax took you from your school, he was supposed to lead you to slaughter. Have you eaten the flesh of your own people?"

"I ate what was put before me," Kirissa said. "Among the wyrmlings there is a saying, Flesh is flesh. It does not matter whether it is human or animal, but some prefer wyrmling flesh."

"Why is that?"

"It is said that wyrmling flesh tastes better than that of other animals. The meat of a child is sweetest of all."

"When you killed other children, did you eat them afterward?"

"That is an honor that I won," Kirissa said.

Sister Gadron rephrased some of her questions. The small woman asked again about wyrms. Do you have a wyrm in you? Do you take orders from a wyrm? Are you infested with a wyrm?

At last when she was satisfied, the woman with wings asked a question, and Sister Gadron translated. "Can you draw a map of Rugassa?"

Kirissa hesitated. For two hours she had been burning with curiosity about the winged woman. Now she dared ask the question that haunted her. "First, may I have the honor of asking some questions?"

The translator said, "I suppose."

"Who did you kill to get those wings?"

The translator spoke to the winged woman, and she answered, "I slew a Knight Eternal, at the battle of Caer Luciare."

The news made Kirissa s heart swell with relief. She began to weep tears.

"Why are you crying?" the winged woman asked.

"Because the Knights Eternal can be killed," Kirissa said. At her hosts expression of bafflement, Kirissa continued, "From the moment that I decided to run, one question has burned in my mind: will the wyrmlings kill us all, or will we be able to fight and destroy them. When the Earth King died, he warned me that the time will come when the small ones of the world must stand against the large. But having seen the wyrmling horde, I am terrified. My fear is that they will overwhelm us. I have heard rumors of strange things happening-beasts being brought from shadow worlds, and the coming of Despair. The wyrmlings are more dangerous than you know."

Kirissa continued, "But if you can kill a Knight Eternal, if you can strike down their leaders, then there is some hope."

Kirissa studied the winged woman, her pale red hair and strong cheeks. There was an air of dangerousness about her. She had the taut posture of one who has practiced with the sword for long hours, and the thickness of her thighs, calves, and biceps all bore witness to such labors.

"Do you have a name?" Kirissa asked.

"Rhianna," the woman said, and Kirissa repeated the name in her mind, over and over.

Rhianna, she thought, my savior.

Rhianna asked her question again, this time speaking in Inkarran. "Can you draw a map of Rugassa?"