David Farland - Chaosbound

It was all that Aaath Ulber could do to keep from going into a berserker’s rage. “Bairn is a fool.”

“ Was a fool,” Warlord Hrath corrected. “No sooner had the woman departed than he began to mount an expedition into the wilds above Ravenspell, seeking the mountain!”

“ Above Ravenspell?” Aaath Ulber asked, and a fey smile crossed his face. Smart girl. His daughter must not have trusted this Warlord Bairn. She’s sent him on a chase—right into the enemy’s camp. “Well, I don’t suppose I’ll need to go seeking vengeance upon him.”

“No one knows what happened next,” Warlord Hrath said, “but Bairn’s folly cost him dear. He and his men rode out hard, and none were ever seen again.

“But it is feared that he stirred up a hornets’ nest. Darkling Glories began to fill the skies, winging above the castles in Mystarria, betraying our troops’ positions to the wyrmling hordes. The wyrmlings attacked the Courts of Tide—but they used reavers as sappers, to knock down the castle walls.

“The wyrmling runelords decimated the land in less than a week.”

“Our folks fled the southlands, and as they did, darkness filled the skies—great swirling clouds the color of greasy smoke, whirling in a maelstrom.

“It hovers there still, so that all of Mystarria is veiled in eternal night. The Darkling Glories fly in and out of it, and the only illumination comes from the brief flashes of lightning that rip through the sky.

“The heavens grumble and moan,” Hrath said solemnly, “and the earth is troubled. That is why I have wondered, why we have all wondered . . . against such powers, what mortal man could prevail? Why would the wyrmlings fear you ?”

Aaath Ulber suspected that he knew precisely why. It wasn’t his prowess in battle, it was something that he’d learned long ago, a bit of knowledge that he held dear—and had never told anyone.

“At the arena,” Aaath Ulber said, “there was a wyrmling lord. He boasted that he could not be killed, for he was under the protection of an Earth King. Have you heard rumors of this before?”

Hrath leaned away from the table, his eyes wide with surprise. “An Earth King? A wyrmling Earth King? Are you sure? That would be a fell thing indeed!”

“That can’t be true,” Myrrima cut in. “The Earth Spirit would not grant its power to such a beast!”

“Are you certain?” Aaath Ulber asked. “The Earth Spirit cares equally for all of its creatures, the hawk as well as the mouse, the serpent as well as the dove. Perhaps the wyrmlings are in danger of going extinct soon . If I had my way, I’d make them extinct!”

Aaath Ulber thought furiously. It would make sense. If mankind posed enough danger to the wyrmlings, the Earth Spirit might protect them.

But Aaath Ulber couldn’t imagine how he could pose such a threat to the wyrmlings . . . except. His mind went back to that bit of hidden knowledge. It was time to reveal the secret he had kept for over a de cade.

He leaned forward. “There is something that I must tell you: Six months before he passed, the Earth King Gaborn Val Orden came to see me one last time. He was old and frail, and appeared outside my door in broad daylight one morning. The guards at the castle gate swear that he did not enter, that he simply materialized from the soil. . . .”

“I doubt that he materialized,” Myrrima said. “An Earth Warden can be hard to see, if he does not want to be noticed.”

“In any event,” Aaath Ulber said, “he stayed for two days, and when we were alone, he told me something that he wished to be kept secret until the time was right for it to be published abroad.

“He said that there was a way for a killer to circumvent his powers. He said that he had learned of instances where his chosen had died—by murder. He would sense their impending doom, sometimes weeks in advance, but as it drew near, he could not avert the event.

“He said that there was a secret order of men who were doing this to gain power, and he feared what it might lead to. . . .”

“How could this be?” Warlord Hrath said. “The Earth King’s power to preserve was legendary.”

“Slow poison,” Aaath Ulber answered. “When a man takes it, his death may be secured, but it might not happen for days or even months after the poison is administered. Thus, Gaborn would sense impending doom hours or weeks away, and as the threat grew, he would hope that the Earth Spirit would tell him how to avert it. But by the time that he realized that there could be no rescue, the killer was long gone.”

“So,” Warlord Hrath asked, “you’re suggesting that we poison the wyrmlings.”

Aaath Ulber sat, pondering. That was exactly what had happened earlier in the night. The lich lord had incapacitated one of the Earth’s chosen, it seemed. But it was the young Wulfgaard who had struck the killing blow minutes later.

If indeed the monster had been under the protection of an Earth King, then it had done the creature little good.

Incapacitate first, then kill at leisure.

“Yes,” Aaath Ulber agreed, “poison would be one way to go about it. . . .”

Aaath Ulber peered around the room. The villagers were preparing to flee, but he realized that the spectacle would only attract more wyrmlings.

“Tell your people to stay in their houses,” Aaath Ulber warned Warlord Hrath. “As well as we can, we must maintain the illusion that it is business as usual here. Give me endowments, and I can protect the village.”

“But . . .” Hrath objected. “What if the wyrmlings find out what we’ve done and attack? We’ll have no way to protect your Dedicates.”

“We’ll hide them in attics and cellars as best we can.”

“And if the wyrmlings attack in force? We have no castle walls here to repel them. We have little in the way of troops.”

“Just as a runelord who is mighty with endowments needs little in the way of armor, I will protect you. My shield will be your castle wall, and I will fight your battles.”

Aaath Ulber still had blood on his hands and garments when he took his endowments that night. Rain watched as the warlords of Internook built a vast bonfire, and its ruddy light stained the hairs of the giant’s head a deeper shade of red and accentuated the blood splatter upon his clothes. In the firelight the nubs of horns stood out upon his brow. As Aaath Ulber waited in the village street, a keg of ale for his throne, an old man brought forcibles from some hiding spot in a nearby village.

He’d wrapped them in oilskin and hidden them in a keg of cider vinegar. Now the skins stank, even from Rain’s vantage point forty feet away.

“Those wyrmlings don’t have a taste for vinegar,” the old man explained. “Hide them in a keg of ale, and you’re asking for trouble. But put them in vinegar, and a wyrmling will never bother them.”

He laid out the forcibles—sixty of them, a surprisingly large number.

So the ceremony began. Rain had never seen an endowment ceremony before. Her father had been a lord, a wealthy man, but even in his days the mines of Kartish had been failing, so she’d never seen a forcible.

So she watched in fascination as the ceremony took form. A huge crowd had gathered at her back, perhaps some five thousand strong, and folks peered eagerly. Some folks had come out of mere curiosity. Others had come to give attributes. All of them seemed to be prodding and pushing at Rain’s back, trying to get a better view.

The evening was taking on a spectacle, as if it were a festival day and someone had brought fireworks from Indhopal.

Now the old man took out his forcibles and inspected each by firelight. The forcibles were rods, much in shape and size like a small spike, a little thicker than the heaviest wire and about the length of a man’s hand. They were made of blood metal, which was darker red than rusted iron, and which tasted like dried blood to the tongue.