David Farland - Worldbinder

The image smote him, went whirling before his eyes, filling his vision. He blinked and turned away, sought to clear his sight, but the image could not be pushed aside. He stood before the Seal of the Inferno, and it forced itself upon him.

Serve me, a voice demanded in the whispering tongue of flames. Give your all to me.

Fallion dropped to one knee and held his forearm against his eyes.

It wasn’t supposed to be here. The Seal was supposed to be in the Underworld, linking the Seal of Heaven to the Seal of Earth. By smoothing out its flaws, Fallion hoped to bind the shattered remains of the One True World back into a single whole.

But this thing before him, it was lying naked in the open, like a festering wound.

Even with his eyes clenched, the rune thrust itself on his consciousness.

You cannot escape, it whispered.

“Fallion?” he heard Rhianna calling desperately. “Fallion, what’s wrong?”

“The Seal,” Fallion shouted. “It’s breached! It-has been sullied, warped. ” He could think of no other way to describe the damage. The rune had been twisted, subverted by some malicious power. It was raging, wanton. It should have been controlled, a shining thing of golden light. All that he saw now was dangerous wreckage.

The same power that had broken the Seals in the beginning did this, he realized-the Queen of the Loci.

“Can you fix it?” Rhianna asked, her voice seeming to come from far away.

A tremendous fear welled up in Fallion. The Seal shouldn’t have been here. He knew of no human-born flameweaver who was powerful enough to have re-created the Seal. Only the Queen of all Loci could do that. He worried that she might be near.

In his dreams, fixing it had been so easy. But now, confronted by the abomination itself, he wasn’t sure.

Seeking fuel, Fallion reached up into heaven and grasped the light, pulling it down in fiery cords, letting it build.

He opened his eyes, staring into the wheel of fire, searching for its flaws.

Shapes began to emerge. To a commoner, it would have only looked like a bowl of flames, endlessly burning without a source, but to Fallion, there was meaning within those shapes.

One had to watch, to study the patterns, see where new flames appeared, where old ones died, how they twisted and flickered, how tall they rose. He could read the meanings of their movements if he had enough time to study them. But how much time would it take? Weeks, he suspected. Months. Years. There were runes hidden within runes here, a maze of them. He would have to pace himself, work in short sessions.

Fix the biggest problems first, he told himself.

Blue tongues of flame erupted and spouted seemingly at random, and white phosphorous airs rose and sputtered. He could hear tongues of flame muttering and cursing in torment at how they had been twisted. But those were mere distractions.

A serpentine incandescence burrowed through the rune, emitting sparks.

It represents the worm at the world’s heart, he realized. But why is it so large?

He followed its shape backward, saw its tail wrapped around the bole of the golden tree, searing it, even as the worm drew away the light from its branches.

What an abomination! he thought.

Fallion hurled a ball of flame, used its energy to sever the tail that bound the world worm to the One True Tree. There was a crackling sound, a roar of fire, and the shadows fled from around the tree.

The flames cursed Fallion, and struck back, like some living thing. A blast of heat surged into him, filling him.

Almost, Fallion burst into flames. The inferno begged Fallion to let go, to leave his flesh behind and become one with Fire, as his master had years ago at the battle for Shadoath’s Castle.

“No!” Fallion shouted, knowing that he had no choice but to fight. The Seal of the Inferno was a deadly puzzle. Either he had to heal it, or it would destroy him.

In his dreams, he had always repaired the rune. The dream came every night, and it had always been the same. The flames spoke with a million tongues. In his dream he tamed them, taught them to speak with only one.

He looked to the field where a bowl of flames should be, and saw the flames. But almost instantly they snuffed out, leaving only two.

For a moment, he knelt with mouth agape, unsure how to proceed. This is where he was to bind the worlds, bring all of them into one. But only two flames remained in this bowl. Each flame flickered and swayed in its own dance.

For long seconds Fallion held still, waiting for the other flames to reappear.

The heat continued to build in him, threatening to overwhelm him. He could feel it in the back of his throat. Steam began to rise from his cloak.

Desperate, Fallion lashed out, hurling back the heat that threatened to overwhelm him, and bound the two flames into one.

The fires of the Seal lashed out, roaring toward Fallion, and then died in an instant.

Suddenly all that remained was a ring of smoke rising around the golden tree.

In the ensuing silence, Fallion found his heart pounding and sweat rolling down his face. There was no voice coming from the remains of the fire. There was no voice in the tree.

“Is it over?” Jaz asked.

All around them, the world seemed to return to normal. Fallion could hear the morning bird song as robins and larks worked the nearby meadows. The rising sun stood golden in the sky. A faint breeze stealing down from the mountains cooled his skin.

And overhead, a great light began to fill the sky.

Daylan Hammer fell silent for a long moment, leaving Alun time to ponder his words.

“Can’t, can’t you help us in some other way?” Alun asked. “You visit the netherworld it is said. Surely…there is some weapon that you could lend us?”

“You think that better weapons can save you?” Daylan mused. “You ask for a dangerous thing. I’ve heard tales of entire worlds that have been leveled-all because one like me handed out such weapons to those in need.

“It is forbidden.

“Even if I gave them to you, they could not save you. In time, your enemies would capture them and turn them against you.

“Besides, you have all of the weapons that you need to destroy this world.”

Alun tried to imagine what he could be talking about. Swords? War clubs? “What weapons?”

“Hate,” Daylan answered. “Your people don’t just live under the shadow of the wyrmlings. You have fallen far beneath it. In a generation, there will no longer be any difference between them and you.”

Daylan fell silent, then at last asked, “So, what will you tell Warlord Madoc?”

Alun thought hard. If he told the truth, he might gain his freedom, untold riches. He could marry well and live happily.

And if he lied…

Then Daylan would free Princess Kan-hazur, leaving his people to withstand the full onslaught of the wyrmlings. Prince Urstone would come to rule, hopefully to help any who escaped.

Even if my people survive, Alun wondered, will House Urstone ever reward me?

He had never caught the eye of the High King. It seemed too fanciful a notion to entertain.

Suddenly there was a bright light in the sky, as if a star had been born.

Alun did not become aware of it all at once. Instead, it seemed that for several seconds it became brighter and brighter.

He looked up, and saw a pale disk, as big as a moon. A star is falling, Alun thought. It’s coming right at us.

The light grew brilliant, and suddenly Alun recalled hearing a tale of a meteorite that had crashed into the mountains years ago, filled with iron from the stars. But he realized that anything as big as this would surely smash him when it hit.

Fallion peered up at the growing orb. He could see blue-vast seas, and the actinic white of clouds whirling above them. He saw the blush of the morning sun striking clouds at the terminus. He spotted a continent, with a great red desert and snow-topped mountains. He could make out silver veins of rivers, the emerald green of forests, a lake shaped like a kidney.