David Farland - The Wyrmling Horde

He peered up along the horizon, as if searching for Rhianna, and suddenly his face went pale and stricken. "Hide!" he shouted, and he grabbed Talon s sleeve and pulled her back behind the dead flier.

She looked up to the south, saw what he had feared. In the distance several miles away was a cloud, a gray haze hurtling toward them just above the tree line. Within the haze she could see wings flapping, and the crimson robes of Knights Eternal.

The five of them scattered, racing to the giant black graak, crouching beneath an outstretched wing. Blades were drawn, and the five lay quietly.

"Knights Eternal flying in daylight?" the emir whispered.

"From Caer Luciare," one of the Cormars added.

"Their business must be urgent," the other said.

Talon s heart was beating. She had not fared well against the creatures when last they had met.

They might have seen us already, she thought. She hoped not. The sunlight was anathema to wyrmlings. It blinded them.

But even if they haven t spotted us, Talon realized, they ll see the dead wyrmlings below them, the dead graak. They may come to investigate.

The others were all breathing heavily, each of them filled with dread.

"If it comes down to a fight," Daylan Hammer whispered, "don t hesitate to attack. The sunlight makes them more vulnerable. Take off their heads if you can."

No one spoke for a long minute. The only sound that Talon could hear was the beating of her heart, the rush of her breath as it filled her lungs.

Then came the pounding of wings overhead, the labored flapping. Darkness blotted out the sun. They ve spotted us by now! she thought.

One of the Knights Eternal called out, howling like a wounded wolf.

Talon knew that howl. She had heard it from her father. It wasn t a cry of warning or distress. It was a wyrmling call, a salute to fallen comrades.

They aren t stopping, she realized. They don t need to investigate. They already know what was done here.

The Knights Eternal flew off into the distance, wings flapping thunderously.

The Cormar twins both stuck their heads out from under their gruesome shelter at the same instant, peered up at the passing enemy.

Why can t just one of them look? Talon wondered.

When the Knights Eternal were well gone, the Cormars whispered in unison, "They were carrying something-clutching bags."

What could they be carrying that is so important? Talon wondered.

But the answer was obvious. The fliers were coming from Caer Luciare, heading toward Rugassa.

"Forcibles," Daylan Hammer whispered.

The emir looked Daylan in the eye. "We must attack before the enemy can put them to use."

Daylan clasped him on the shoulder. "We shall."

It was well past midnight when Rhianna reached the horse-sisters with her treasure of forcibles. The sisters had broken camp and set off to the east, astride their blood mounts, riding swiftly.

It had been a generation since such a cavalry rode. Though they were but forty women with lances, bows, and blades, they were all Runelords, for each warrior had an endowment of brawn, one of grace, one of metabolism, and one of stamina. And each rode upon a warhorse that was both well trained and endowed. In but a few short hours, they had traveled nearly a hundred miles in the night.

The sight of it made Rhianna giddy with hope. It was a small contingent in number, but great in power, and it brought to mind the glory of ages past.

Aside from the horses, there was little in the way of supplies. A wagon carried some food; another carriage of sorts followed bearing the wyrmling girl Kirissa.

Rhianna called out a greeting from the sky as she neared the troops, then swooped and landed in a flurry of wings.

She dropped the cask of forcibles onto the ground, produced a key still smeared with wyrmling gore, and pulled the chest open to reveal its contents. She was breathing hard.

Sister Daughtry climbed down from her mount, pulled off her war mask, and looked narrowly at the forcibles. "We can t use that many. We have people willing to become Dedicates back at camp, but we don t have the resources to care for them. For every Dedicate, we need at least a dozen people to till the soil, weave cloth, act as guards, and otherwise nurse them."

She was right, Rhianna realized. The horse-sisters were fierce warriors, but they never had been large in number. Beyond that, they were spread out over thousands of square miles. It would take weeks just for them to assemble.

"The time will come when we have to look elsewhere for Dedicates," Rhianna suggested. "You re already traveling through Beldinook. We can take endowments here."

Beldinook was a large country and wealthy. But Beldinook had long been an enemy to the horse-sisters, to Mystarria-and to the rest of its neighbors for that matter.

Old King Lowicker of Beldinook had once belittled the Earth King, Gaborn Val Orden, demanding a display of his powers.

Gaborn had proved his powers by summoning an earthquake, one which startled Lowicker s horse, causing him to fall. Lowicker died from the injury, and his daughter Rialla had nursed her hatred for House Orden. Because of her frequent tantrums, people had called her "the Brat." She died only a week into her short reign, and a younger sister, Allonia, took the throne in her place. But Allonia s foul temper exceeded Rialla s. So when the kingdom fell to her, the title "the Brat" came with it.

Allonia was her father s daughter in every way. Once the Earth King had passed away, she struck quickly and in concert with Gaborn s enemies. She managed to carve out a fine chunk of Mystarria in that manner.

Rhianna suspected that Sister Daughtry would be pleased at the idea of taking Beldinook. But Daughtry only frowned. "You would have me become another Raj Ahten, strengthen myself by taking other kingdoms?"

"No," Rhianna said. But the more she thought of it, the more she realized that they would be forced to deal with Beldinook. "Beldinook has long been a torment to all of its neighbors. It boasts the finest steel and the largest cavalry in the world. And with the fall of Mystarria, it also boasts the strongest castles. You will need those castles to protect your Dedicates. That is the one great weakness of the horse-sisters: you love the open plains and your pavilions, but you have few strongholds stalwart enough to house Dedicates.

"More importantly, the Brat of Beldinook will live up to her name. She has always been eager for conquest. If she gets her hands on some blood metal, you know that she would not spare you. It is only by overwhelming this enemy that we can hope to retain power.

"So we must strike first. Your horse-sisters could drain endowments from the strongest lords in her realm, turning their strengths into your strength. Her serfs will take care of your Dedicates. Her steel must become your steel. Her fortifications must become yours.

"Taking them does not make you into another Raj Ahten. He took endowments to gratify his own lusts. We will take them to save the world."

"And what kind of world will it be?" Sister Daughtry asked. "It was perilous enough when forcibles were rare. What will become of it if blood metal proves so common that any man with a pair of dogs can make himself into a Runelord?"