David Farland - The Wyrmling Horde

There it was in his imagination-a small fishing boat, a coracle that he could row out onto the sea at dawn, and there cast his nets and hopefully be done with work for the day by noon. He wanted a cottage at the edge of the sea with a fine thatch roof to keep out the winter rain. He wanted children sitting on his knee as he told them bedtime stories. He wanted a wife to hold at night, and to cherish.

Such simple things. So repulsively wholesome.

"Yes," the Earth s voice whispered deep inside him. "This one is worthy to inhabit the world to come."

Despair raised his left arm to the square and said, "The Earth hide you. The Earth heal you. The Earth make you its own. I choose you through the dark times to come."

When it was done, Despair stared down at the wounded boy.

Now you are truly mine, he thought. Wherever you might go, I will be able to find you.

"Vulgnash," he said. "It is time to begin the tortures in earnest. Give another hundred endowments of compassion to Fallion Orden today. It is time to force Fallion to tell us what we need to know."

The Emir Tuul Ra felt taut with anticipation. The five heroes had spent the better part of the morning racing toward Rugassa, and he knew that they were near. He felt so overwhelmed with emotion that he wanted to shout.

There was hope, yes. Finally the people of Caer Luciare were going to strike back against Rugassa. But there was fear in his heart, also, and mourning. His people had been driven from their homes, from the very world of their native birth, and now squatted beyond its borders, plotting revenge.

But revenge would be hard to come by. The wyrmlings had a mountain of blood metal, and they knew how to bend it to their will. In a matter of days, the wyrmlings would have it in their power to take so many endowments that the folk of Caer Luciare might never be able to break the wyrmlings stranglehold on the world.

So there was a moment, a brief time that they might be able to strike. Today is the day, he thought.

Preparations were being made. All morning he had felt endowments being vectored to him, some from men.

Metabolism, that was most of what he got. Seven endowments of speed. He was not the strongest in the group, far from it. But he would be the quickest, and he had learned long ago that great speed is enough in battle.

But now his quiver was full. The endowments had stopped coming an hour ago, though he could still see Talon growing in power from moment to moment.

They raced now along a broken road. In the binding of the worlds, the old human highway had crossed through the wyrmling wastes. The road was here, and it was serviceable for the most part. But in many places rocks had risen, creating a nasty path, and thorns and thistles burst up through the ground everywhere. Still, it had been beaten down some. It was rife with wyrmling sign. Troops had marched over it recently.

So the company raced through open fields in the lowlands, and over wooded hills, each of them running with superhuman speed.

The Cormar twins took the lead, sprinting side by side. They moved like dancers, each stepping forward with the left leg at precisely the same time, each swinging the right forward the same.

Yet their movements were too choreographed. They weren t dancers. They were marionettes, moving to a single will. The sight of it was somehow profoundly disturbing. The strangeness of it only seemed to grow.

The group stopped for a brief meal just after noon. There was little in the way of formal plans. They hoped to meet up with Rhianna, find out what news she might have to tell. But if they did not, so be it. Their assault would continue today, as soon as Talon and the Cormar twins finished getting endowments vectored to them.

So the five stopped at midday and set a small fire, a gleaming gem of heat and light that beckoned to the emir as always, and they prepared to cook some meat. It had been easy enough to come by. As they had run through the woods, a pair of grouse had fluttered up at their sides.

With his endowments of speed, time seemed to have nearly stopped, and the emir watched them-fat and ponderous and tempting-as they sought to escape.

He altered his course in midstride, leaping into the air, and harvested the pair of them, and now after pulling off the skin and putting them on a skewer, he went down to wash his hands in a nearby brook.

Talon squatted beside the stream among some willows and splashed water under her arms, then ran it over her face and neck as best she could.

The emir was downstream from her a pace. He washed off his own hands quickly, scrubbing them with coarse sand from the bottom of the stream, then let the dirty water glide away for a moment. He then cupped his hands and took a long draught, unconcerned that the water might be mingled with Talon s dirt and sweat.

It wasn t that he didn t notice her muddying his water. But he was used to fighting in skirmishes with small bands of men. He was used to tight quarters and a lack of privacy.

The emir leaned back on his heels, and sighed. "I thank the Powers that be that I have lived to see this day," he said, glancing over to Talon. "Finally, I hope to free my brother, Areth Sul Urstone."

Areth Sul Urstone was not his brother by blood, of course, only a brother-in-arms. They were as close as two men can be.

"It is a great day," Talon replied.

"Hmmm…" The emir signaled his agreement, then peered at Talon inquisitively. "It is said that you knew Areth s shadow self?"

"I did," Talon agreed. "We called him Gaborn Val Orden, the Earth King."

"I have never known another man like Areth Sul Urstone," the emir said. "Never could there be a better friend. He was not just generous. Some men can share what they have. But Areth was the kind who would give you all that he had and regret that he did not have more to give.

"It was not that he was courageous. Many men can go into battle with little fear. But Areth had a kind of courage that went deeper than that. He had the courage to stick to his principles, regardless of the consequences.

"It was not that he was honest, it was that he was unwavering in his faithfulness. Areth Sul Urstone s word was stronger than flint.

"Tell me," the emir asked, "is that the kind of man that he was on your world, too?"

Talon thought for a moment, as if trying to decide how to frame her answer. "He was all of that and more. He was a man of such deep compassion that it became a vice. He loved others too much for his own good."

"Aaaah," the emir said. "I have always believed that of Areth, too. He suffers when others are hurt. Many times I have thought,

I should gather a band of men, break into Rugassa, and set him free. Yet I knew what it would cost. Even if we managed to free him, the backlash would have been unbearable. The wyrmlings would have struck so hard, Caer Luciare would have been destroyed-and Areth would never have been able to be at peace with that. Indeed, I think that he would rather have rotted in his cell for an eternity, knowing that others lived with some degree of peace and prosperity, than to be set free.

"That is why I captured the wyrmling princess. I hoped that by taking her, I could buy his life."

"And do you think he is even still alive?" Talon asked. "I mean today-now that the wyrmlings have got their princess back?"

"I hope so."

"And if he is alive, is he still the man that you knew fourteen years ago?"

The Emir Tuul Ra did not answer quickly. He lowered his head in thought. Talon knew that men could be broken. With enough pain and deprivation, even the strongest men turned into craven animals. And the tormentors of Rugassa had turned the breaking of men into an art form.