Chaosbound (41 page)

Aaath Ulber wondered at the phrase “shrouds of darkness.” He had never heard of such a thing. “Tell me,” he said, “what has changed in Rofehavan since the binding of the worlds. . . .”

“You don't know?” Warlord Hrath asked.

“I know that most of Landesfallen sank into the sea on the far side of the world, so I set sail to come here as fast as I could.”

“Toom fell into the sea also,” Warlord Hrath said, “as did Haversind and all of the land along the north coast. But the coastlines of Mystarria were raised, and much that was ocean is now land. Ships that were in the bay ended up on dry land. But here in Internook, the sea level did not alter much.

“When first the binding came, we did not look abroad. There were troubles on our own island, not far from here. A fortress was found, with tunnels that led into the ground, and a single dark tower.

“Women and children that went to explore it never made it out. Good men went to rescue them, and their tale ends the same.

“We sent what runelords we could, but it had been ten years since we'd seen a forcible in our lands. The men who went were not like the runelords of old. Some lacked brawn, some grace. None was hale and well-rounded. Though they had the speed of runelords, they were warriors of unfortunate proportion.

“So they scaled the wyrmling tower, but they did not get far inside, I think. No sooner had they entered than smoke began to issue from every vent in the wyrmling fortress. None of our men escaped.”

“A wyrmling fortress is not something that one assails lightly,” Aaath Ulber said. “The wyrmlings love traps. Even your runelords could not breathe in that oiled air. There are pits and false walls inside a wyrmling lair. The harvesters are present in every stronghold, but they are not the worst of your worries. Wraiths guard it, sorcerers of great power who fend off death and steal the life energy from those that they vanquish. And just as every hive has its queen, at the center of the wyrmling fortress there is a lich lord who can communicate across the leagues with their emperor.”

“By the Powers!” Warlord Hrath growled. “We have no weapons against such monsters.”

“I do,” Myrrima said. “I can enchant your weapons so that they strike down even the most powerful wraith.”

“That is why the wyrmlings fear you,” Warlord Hrath proclaimed. “They fear your coming.”

There was a scraping sound nearby as some of the folks dragged a heavy bench across the floor. Two young men pulled up a hidden door, then went climbing down a ladder into the recesses of some hole.

“Our armory,” Warlord Hrath explained, “hidden where the wyrmlings could not easily find it.” Seconds later, the men began hauling weapons up from the hole. Hrath raised an eyebrow and asked Myrrima, “Will you bless these weapons?”

“Take your weapons to the nearest stream; I'll do it as soon as I can.”

All around, people were darting about, gathering food and clothes, preparing to flee into the night. Warlord Hrath jutted his chin, and the men began hauling the weapons out—spears, axes, shields.

“What more have you learned of the south?” Myrrima asked.

Warlord Hrath shook his head, as if to warn that he held tragic news. “A few days after the binding, ships began to arrive from the south, our folks coming back from Mystarria. They too had been overtaken by the wyrmlings—and worse things.

“They spoke of changes that occurred during the great binding. Giant men appeared, like yourself, at the Courts of Tide. They warned of dire things to come, but that fool Warlord Bairn made a sport of killing them, in the hopes of placating the wyrmlings and making some sort of compact with them.

“But then a winged woman came and told of mountains of blood metal to the east—”

“Wait,” Aaath Ulber said. “You say that a winged woman came? Was she a normal human, or was she like me, or was she a wyrmling?”

“She was human in every way, but for her crimson wings,” Warlord Hrath said. “She was young, beautiful.”

Aaath Ulber considered this news. The only winged people that he had ever heard of were the wyrmling Seccaths—the greater lords. They wore wings that were constructed by means that no human had ever learned or could duplicate. Humans had sometimes won the wings—by slaughtering their wearer and fitting them to their own backs—but it was a rare occurrence, something that might happen only once every two or three generations.

The wyrmling Seccaths were few in number. They included the three Knights Eternal, a few members of the imperial family, and perhaps half a dozen messengers and scouts that the emperor employed—messengers and scouts who were also brilliant and accomplished warriors.

Who could have killed a Seccath? Aaath Ulber wondered. Few had such prowess in battle.

“This winged woman, did she give a name?” Aaath Ulber asked.

Warlord Hrath's brow furrowed in concentration and he looked about the crowd for help. “Angdar was there in the city that day. He heard the tale many times in pubs that night from those who saw, and so he knows it better than I. Did the woman give a name?”

Angdar stepped forward, a burly man with a greasy face. “I don't recall hearing that she gave a first name, but she did a last: Borenson. I remember because I have heard that name in song many a time, and I wondered if she was any relation to the great warrior.”

Aaath Ulber leapt toward Angdar, and felt so grateful that he slapped the man on the back. “My daughter. My daughter is alive. When did this happen?”

“Just before midday, two days after the binding of the worlds.”

Myrrima got choked up and began to sob, as did Draken, and Aaath Ulber just stood and hugged them for a moment.

“Talon?” Myrrima asked. “She has wings? But how?”

Aaath Ulber explained quickly. As he did, Myrrima's face lit up. It seemed that the fears and worries slid from her countenance, revealing a fierce hope that had been hiding inside her for weeks.

“Talon's alive,” Myrrima exulted at last. “She didn't get crushed in the binding.”

Aaath Ulber hugged his wife and son, but he wondered. How had Talon fought off a wyrmling Seccath? How would she have known how to take its wings? If Fallion had gone into the Underworld, how could he have returned two days later?

Some answers were obvious. Talon knew of the hill of blood metal at Caer Luciare. Somehow she had killed a wyrmling Seccath, and the folks there must have shown her how to take its wings.

But that left so many questions unanswered.

“Tell me,” Aaath Ulber asked Angdar, “what precisely did my daughter say—as close as you can? What were her words?”

The burly warrior held his tongue for a moment as he thought. “She'd come for help,” he said. “She warned Warlord Bairn of the wyrmlings, like the others had, and told him of a mountain of blood metal. She wanted help in . . . freeing some men from a wyrmling fortress, two men who were being held captive. . . .”

“Fallion and Jaz!” Draken exulted, and Aaath Ulber's heart pounded with newfound hope. He did not want to leap to conclusions, but who else could it be?

Myrrima muttered, “The wyrmlings must have learned that Fallion bound the worlds. Let us hope that their awe of him keeps him alive.”

Fifty days in a wyrmling dungeon, Aaath Ulber thought. Few could survive so long. The wyrmlings were not gentle. But then, few men were as durable as Fallion Orden.

Aaath Ulber looked to Angdar. “What did Warlord Bairn answer when my daughter made her request?”

“He asked for the location of the mountain of blood metal. She told him, and then he ordered his archers to open fire upon her. She flew off, I hear, unscathed.”

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 decade.

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 wrymlings.

“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.