The Wyrmling Horde (44 page)

“There is an evil brewing here beyond the understanding of men,” Erringale said. “But I mean to find out what is going on.”

  23  

Every man is born in a cage. The size of it is determined by limits of our ambitions.

 

—From the Wyrmling Catechism

Rhianna sped across the miles, flying with all haste. She kept an eye out for Vulgnash, and watched his gray cloud on the horizon. She reached Beldinook before sundown, the castle's white towers and ramparts gleaming like fiery coral in the setting sun.

Rhianna flew straight to the palace, and found the horse-sisters' facilitators taking the last of the endowments. Their thousand forcibles were nearly gone.

Standing among the crowds in the town square Rhianna made a heartfelt appeal.

“People of Beldinook,” she said, “I must go to Rugassa in all haste. Give me your metabolism, I beg of you, not for my sake, or the sake of the man I love, but for your own sakes, for your children, your families, and your kingdom.

“If I fail, the sacrifice that you make will not be for long—an hour at the most.

“But if I succeed, minstrels shall make a song of it, and your names shall be sung forever!”

She did not have to say more. She had taken so many endowments of glamour that she probably had not needed to speak. She had taken enough endowments of voice that her words smote the potential Dedicates and softened their hearts.

“I will be pleased, milady,” a young man cried out, and soon a dozen people were offering similar thoughts. Rhianna
did not wait for the endowments. She nodded to her facilitator, then went to the great room for dinner.

She was famished. She had flown four hundred miles in hours, and though she had the brawn and stamina and metabolism to meet such a goal, she did not do it without a price.

Her body seemed to have dropped twenty pounds during the day. Much of it had been sweat, she was sure, but she could clearly see the bones in her wrists, white and protruding through the skin.

So she fed, eating as much as her stomach could hold, drinking until she felt well.

Then she burst into the sky and went winging toward Rugassa at a more relaxed pace.

She had a problem: Vulgnash.

How will I get past him? she wondered. With the facilitators vectoring metabolism to her, she would be faster than he.

But will I be fast enough? she wondered.

She had no choice but to risk it.

So she flew over the darkening lands, her wings flapping steadily. She crossed a river, gleaming silver in the starlight. Great flocks of bats had flown up from the trees along the river's bank, and now they dipped and skimmed the water for drinks.

Rhianna dropped and tried it, surprising herself when water sprayed up and splashed her face and the front of her tunic. She could taste grit and bugs in the water.

I have become a bat, she thought.

Then she hurried on toward Rugassa, and the world seemed to slow even further as endowment after endowment of metabolism was added to her. At last Rugassa's dark cone rose up in the starlight, black and foreboding.

The wyrmlings will be awake, Rhianna thought. They'll be at their most active. Perhaps I should wait until tomorrow.

But she dared not wait. With every passing minute, the
enemy would be taking more endowments, becoming stronger.

So she winged above the plains surrounding Rugassa at night, and saw the land filled with wyrmlings—troops by the tens of thousands marching to war, great armies of hunters heading out with wagons to harvest meat, loggers and miners and who knew what else—hundreds of thousands of wyrmlings toiling in a great mass.

She hurtled toward her entrance at two hundred miles per hour, a blinding blur. Many a wrymling looked up to behold a flash of red in the night sky, crimson wings and a blood-red cloak—just a lone Knight Eternal flying to his tower. It was a sight that they had seen a thousand times.

With so many endowments of wit, she did not have to hunt for the entrance. She knew where it lay.

She hit the airshaft and eeled down headfirst, then opened her wings wide as she plummeted the last few yards to the floor of the coliseum.

Wyrmlings working in the arena seemed astonished by the sight, but Rhianna's hood was pulled tight and she whisked out through the exit, following the sandalwood-scented trail of Kirissa at a dead run.

With twenty endowments of metabolism, Rhianna was but a blur, a crimson figure with vast wings racing down the tunnel at nearly a hundred miles per hour.

I have taken my death in taking so many endowments of metabolism, she thought. In four more seasons, I will die of old age.

But she could not mourn her fate. She had chosen it, and it was only her endowments of metabolism that might allow her to rescue Fallion.

She could have gone faster, but she found that her momentum made it hard to turn corners, so she kept her speed low.

She found surprisingly few wyrmlings in the hallways. Perhaps it was too early for some of them, or perhaps they were already working.

But as she passed each one, Rhianna made sure to do no harm. She would duck past one, leap over others. Those who saw her did not have time to react.

She heard wyrmlings roar in blind challenge on several occasions, but Kirissa had taught her a couple of curses. Rhianna found that when she roared a curse and raised her wings, the wyrmlings often fell over themselves in their haste to make room.

Thus she put her endowments of voice to the test, perfecting her illusion. The wyrmlings did not even know what they saw, she suspected.

So she raced in dark tunnels while glow worms lit the ceiling of the labyrinth like a sky full of stars, following tunnel after tunnel until she reached the winding stair and descended, down, down, with a key made of bone in her hands.

Talon was the first to waken in the prison. Perhaps it was because she had more endowments of stamina than the others, or perhaps it was because a wight had only touched her lightly on the hand, but she woke, dazed and trembling, to find Rhianna standing over her.

“Up,” Rhianna called. “Quickly. Get up or die!”

There was water on Talon's face. Filthy water. That was what had awakened her.

“Where? Where am I?” she asked. But Rhianna was too busy to answer. She had taken a guard by the throat and was shoving him into Talon's cell. In an instant, Rhianna had him chained to the wall.

Talon raised her head, blinking. Her right arm ached. She could feel ice in her veins, running straight to her heart, and it seemed to put a strain on her, as if her heart might stop beating any second.

“Help me,” Rhianna pleaded. “The others are all asleep, and I can't wake them. I've come to rescue you. Vulgnash was gone when I got here, but there is no telling how soon he will come back.”

Rhianna was moving with tremendous speed, at least twice as fast as Talon could. She rushed back out of the cell, and moments later came back with a second wyrmling guard, a hulking brute, dragging him over the floor as he kicked and screamed.

Talon climbed to her feet. She had so many endowments of brawn that she did not feel as if she weighed anything at all. Yet she was wounded to the core of her soul, and she felt terribly ill.

Rhianna urged her from the cell, and together they slammed a huge iron door, locking the guards inside.

An instant later, Rhianna had the door to Fallion's cell open. They found him lying upon a cot, unconscious. Srips of cloth bound his legs and arms tight against his body. There was an unholy cold in the room, and his lips had gone blue. The bars to his cell were crusted with frost, and ice fans had formed upon the stone walls.

“Try to get him warm,” Rhianna said. “I don't think that a wight has touched him. Vulgnash just drained all of his body heat.” Rhianna began unwrapping his bindings.

Talon considered lying down beside him to get him warm, but remembered her sunstone. It was still hidden in her boot. The wyrmlings had taken her daggers, her belt, and her leather tunic. But they had left her boots.

She pulled off the boot and dumped out its contents. The sunstone fell and lay gleaming upon the floor. She squeezed it hard and held it up to Fallion's cheek.

He lay there for a long second, still barely breathing, and suddenly he began to rouse. The effect of the heat was astonishing. His breath had been agonizingly shallow one instant, and he suddenly gasped.

Blindly, he reached up with his right hand and tried to grasp the sunstone, but he missed it—or seemed to. His hand bypassed the stone, but in that instant the light seemed to flash in response to his need, and a stream of fire as golden as a wheat field flared from the stone.

The sunstone was so hot that Talon dropped it, her hand
smarting from a savage burn. It left a white welt on her fingers. But the fire streamed out of the stone and into Fallion, and he took no harm.

He opened his eyes, coming awake in an instant. Flames seemed to be dancing in them, and they were full of light. He peered up at Talon and Rhianna, obviously invigorated. Yet there was no relief in his face. His cheeks and brow were haggard, lined with pain.

Rhianna finished unbinding him, and now she used the guards' keys to unlock his shackles, then went racing to another cell. Iron doors began to creak open in rapid succession. She called out to the emir, Daylan, and the wyrmling girl.

She came back an instant later. “I can't get anyone else to wake,” she said. “They're barely breathing.”

Fallion had risen to a sitting position, but he moved with infinite slowness, like an old man burdened by the years. “What's—what's going on?”

“Daylan Hammer and the emir are here with us,” Rhianna said before Talon could get a word out. “They were touched by wights.”

Talon was still holding her own right hand. She couldn't feel her fingers, and she worried that at any moment she would faint.

“I see,” Fallion said. He thought for a long moment, as if he were still partly dazed, and said, “There are some wounds that only Fire can heal.”

He took the sunstone from Talon, raised it in his palm, and began to draw a bright steady flame from it. Suddenly light seemed to burst from his every pore. The light filtered through the whole room. He turned into a glorious being, and he peered deep into Talon, then took her wounded hand.

Talon looked into Fallion's eyes, and felt as if she had never really seen him before. There was so much compassion in his face, so much sorrow. And here he stood ministering to her, shining like some Bright One out of a legend.

He's one of them, she thought. He's more than a mortal man.

Talon had always thought of him as a brother, a child that she had wrestled with, and played with, and worked beside. She'd never seen him like this before. She'd never imagined that he could be like this.

She felt herself warm. It began at her heart, which had felt cold and often skipped a beat. She felt a mellowness in her chest, as if beams of summer sun shone upon her naked bosom, and her heart responded by beating more easily. Then the sense of vigor and well-being began to move down from her heart, to her extremities. In a matter of twenty seconds, the warmth spread to her shoulder, then down her arm, until even her hand felt warm.

Fallion finished ministering to her.

Then he just held her eyes for a long second, as if peering into her, seeking other hurts to mend.

When he was done, he turned away, went stumbling into the other room. Talon followed and found him still shining brightly, the sunstone raised in his hand like some talisman, as he bent over the emir.

The sunstone flared again, casting a soft golden glow through the room, a glow that was softer than the pure white light that issued from Fallion.

He stood above the emir, simply shining over him, and the glow centered on the emir's chest. Talon began counting, to see how long it would take to rouse the man, while Rhianna rifled through keys and unlocked his manacle.