David Farland - Worldbinder

Rents had opened up in the mountainside where great stone slabs had slid off, exposing some of the tunnels that had been dug into the mountain.

And there above the battle, a tiny set of wings fluttered clumsily.

It was no Knight Eternal flying there, he knew instantly. The wing-beats were ineffectual, and the body was too small to be one of his own kind. It was one of the small folk, a fledgling, new to wings!

Vulgnash knew that it was the custom among humans to claim wings won in battle.

If that small fledgling is not the wizard I seek, Vulgnash thought, it is one of his kin.

He studied its trajectory, saw where it flew-there, a parapet where another winged human lay wounded.

With a slight folding of the wings, Vulgnash went into a dive.

On the fifth level of the warrens, Alun raced up the gently sloping tunnel. Tiny thumb-lights, hanging from their pegs, lit the way like fallen stars.

But suddenly, the path ahead went black, and the smell of fresh air impinged on his consciousness. He’d found a rent. Part of the rock face had collapsed to his left, leaving the tunnel exposed.

And up ahead, the lights were all out.

He heard a distant wail, the death cry of an old man.

Alun raced past the rent, which was no more than twenty feet wide, and peered down. A hundred and fifty feet below, the wyrmling army crowded in the courtyard. A Death Lord stood at their head, a chilling specter whose form was so dark, it seemed that he sucked in all of the light nearby. There was a boom and the ground shivered beneath his feet, but there was no snarling as was found in the report of a thunder drum.

The wyrmlings had taken battering rams to the iron gates, the city’s last defenses.

“Hurry,” Warlord Madoc urged, racing past Alun.

Alun chased after Madoc, feeling naked, exposed to the sight of the troops below. The wyrmlings could not help but see them sprinting along the open cliff. But soon they were back in the darkened tunnels.

Madoc halted to light a thumb-lantern, and then they hurried ahead.

The knight’s trail would not be hard to follow. He left darkness in his wake.

He can’t be far ahead, Alun realized. It takes time to kill people, even women and babes.

They passed an apartment that had its door bashed in. Warlord Madoc stopped to survey the damage. The apartment looked like a slaughterhouse, with blood-splashed walls. Alun did not dally to gaze upon the faces of the murdered mother and her boys, the youngest just a toddler. Yet he could not help but notice with a glance that upon each of the dead, there was a red thumb-print between the eyes, as if the Knight Eternal had anointed them with blood. Alun knew the family, of course. The dead woman was Madoc’s wife.

Warlord Madoc roared like a bear when he saw her body, and went charging back out into the corridors, brandishing his war ax.

King Urstone is a dead man, Alun thought. If there was ever a chance that Warlord Madoc would forgive him for this debacle, the chance has passed.

No, Urstone had tried to save his son, and the imprudent attempt would bring ruin upon them all.

For that, it was only right that King Urstone should die.

Yet a part of Alun rebelled at the thought. It was not fair that Urstone had lost his son. It was not fair that he should die for loving too well. This was all a tragic mistake, and Alun worried that he was supporting a monster, that Warlord Madoc, despite his bravery and his prowess in battle, was the kind of man who would bring them all to ruin.

Let him die first, Alun silently prayed to whatever powers might be. Let Madoc die at the hands of a Knight Eternal.

They passed apartment after apartment, each much the same, each smelling of blood attar, each dark and bereft of life.

There were cries up ahead, a woman’s scream, and Warlord Madoc went bounding up the hallway.

Talon gave a cry and raced up at his back.

Alun felt strangely disconnected from his body. His heart pounded in fear. He couldn’t bear the thought of fighting a Knight Eternal in the darkness like this. It was madness. They’d all be killed.

Yet he sprinted to keep up, realizing that at the very least he would not die alone.

“Here!” Warlord Madoc shouted as he rounded a corner. Up ahead, thumb-lanterns still burned merrily. The Warlord raced to an open door and peered in.

“Welcome,” a voice hissed from within, “to your demise.”

“If I die,” Madoc growled, “then you will lead the way.” He raised his ax and charged.

Timing is everything in battle, Alun knew. Even a Knight Eternal might be struck down with a lucky blow. But it required perfect timing, and perhaps the element of surprise.

“Kill!” Alun growled, as he released his dogs.

Wanderlust and Brute bent double as they dug their paws into the floor and bounded down the corridor.

The dogs swarmed past Warlord Madoc as he raced into the room. Rhianna and Siyaddah charged in at his back, while Alun drew up the rear.

He heard a smack and a yelp, Brute’s cry. The dog went flying, thumped against a wall.

Madoc roared like a wounded animal, and as Alun rounded the corner, everything was in chaos.

The room was as cold as a tomb. Dead children littered the floor.

Wanderlust had hold of the Knight Eternal’s left wing and was dragging it backward and thrashing her head.

Madoc himself had taken a mighty swing with his ax, lopping off the knight’s right wing.

The knight growled like a beast and lunged past Madoc. It grabbed Talon by the throat and hurled her to the floor, just as Siyaddah leapt in with crescent shield, slashing at the knight’s wrist.

Talon’s own small sword clanged to the floor and came spinning near Alun, just as the Knight Eternal caught his balance and leapt in the air, kicking with both feet, sending Warlord Madoc flying over a chair.

Alun looked at the small sword, its blade covered with rust, and knew that it might be the only weapon in this room that had the power to unbind the knight, to drain the stolen life from is organs.

The Knight Eternal threw off Wanderlust and then leapt upon Warlord Madoc, grabbing him by the throat. He slammed Madoc’s head back against the wall, smashing the warlord’s helm and leaving a smear of blood, then howled in victory and gaped his teeth, ready to tear out Madoc’s throat.

Alun grabbed Talon’s sword and lunged at the Knight Eternal, aiming for its face.

The creature whirled and caught the blade in its hand, almost absently.

Too late it realized its mistake.

The blade struck, and the Knight Eternal gripped it like a vise. Alun struggled to pull it free, like a sword from an ancient scabbard, and the blade sliced into the creature’s palm.

It had been focused on Warlord Madoc, but now the Knight Eternal whirled and peered at its hand as if a serpent had just bit it.

“How?” it cried, raising its palm.

Black blood came boiling from the wound. The Knight Eternal studied this phenomenon, then looked up to Alun in consternation.

Already the creature had begun to change. Its dry flesh was turning papery, and it suddenly weaved, unable to keep to its feet.

“Death take thee,” Alun said thrusting the sword into its throat. The Knight Eternal fell back and collapsed.

Wanderlust leapt on it, wrestled free a leg, and then stood growling and shaking it.

Siyaddah stood in a fighting stance in the corner, as if afraid that the creature would get up and attack. Talon was crawling on her knees, shaking her head clear.

Warlord Madoc lay against the wall, blinking and breathing heavily for a moment. Alun had expected him to be dead, but suddenly he regained his feet.

The only fatality in the fight was Brute, who lay against the wall, lips drawn back in a permanent snarl.