The Wyrmling Horde

Talon walked into the Bright Ones sanctuary down a long winding tunnel, where the curved walls were as smooth as eggshell, a soft cream in color. The floor was formed from slabs of stone, with strange and beautiful knots and whorls chiseled into them. At the landing, the entryway fanned out into a great hall. It was unlike anything that Talon had ever imagined.

The room was large enough to hold ten thousand refugees and more. The walls off to her right seemed to be natural stone, as pale as cloud, and several waterfalls cascaded down over some rocks into a broad pool, raising a gentle mist. Lights like stars blazed above. They hung motionless in the air, only a dozen yards overhead, bright enough that they held the room in an enchanted twilight, as if just before the crack of dawn. Up near the top of the waterfalls, the stars gave just enough light that they nurtured some strange creepers that hung like tapestries from the rock, the pale leaves dotted with brilliant red flowers. White cave crickets sang in the wan light, creating a gentle music that merged with the tumble and tinkle of falling water.

Hallways and corridors yawned ahead, and many in the company forged deeper into the cavern, into antechambers where they might find some privacy and collapse for the night.

Few of the Bright Ones seemed to be here in camp. Talon saw no more than two dozen of their men and women in the cavern. Several of them moved off with Daylan Hammer into a small vestibule to hold their council.

She saw bright flashing lights a few moments later, and she went near the vestibule on the pretext of calming one of Alun s mastiffs that was trotting around, woofing in excitement.

Talon halted beside the stream, called to the dog, and scratched at its neck, beneath its fearsome collar. A white cricket fell from the roof and landed in the water. The stream boiled as a fish lunged up to take it.

Talon glanced into the side tunnel.

The Bright Ones stood with Daylan Hammer in a circle, each of them gazing down at a round stone table as if deep in thought. Above them, creatures circled, like birds made not of flesh but of light, each about the length of a man, with ethereal wings that did not move. They were the source of the flashing lights that had drawn Talon.

Glories, Talon realized. According to legend, the Glories were the spirits of just men who had forsaken their own flesh-much like the Death Lords, Talon mused, though she suspected that she had it backward. Legend said that the Glories had existed long ago, back in the dim recesses of time, but the Death Lords had to be more recent, for legend said that they had been created by Despair.

The Glories seemed to exude life and light, but the Death Lords of Rugassa had no life or light in them; they survived only by draining life from others.

The Death Lords are but a vile mockery of the Glories, Talon realized.

As Talon s eyes adjusted to the light, she studied the room. The vestibule was circular in shape, with a table made from a single piece of jasper. Fine chairs carved from cherrywood lined the outer wall. Tapestries of red embroidered with threads of gold carpeted the floor.

Erringale was speaking in the council chamber, but his liquid voice mingled with the sounds of running water, the chatter of people, and the chirp of cave crickets. Talon could not make out what he said, and even when she could make out the liquid tones of his voice, she could not understand him. It was as if she could understand his words only when he willed her to.

In the great hall, people fanned out. Some went to the lake and began to drink. Others unpacked bedrolls to sleep on, for they had not slept in nearly two days. Some just threw themselves to the ground in exhaustion.

Alun came to retrieve his mastiff, and as he stood beside Talon patting its muzzle, he too peered into the council chamber.

Alun was an ill-formed man, with big ears, a crooked nose, and spindly arms.

A voice spoke at Talon s back. "So, what you thinking?" It was Drewish, one of the sons of the dead Warlord Madoc. Drewish and his brother Connor stood leering over Alun.

"Thinking?" Alun asked. "Nothing." Somehow, it seemed that he did not want to be accused of thinking. Talon imagined that he didn t want to have to reveal his thoughts to the likes of Drewish.

The Madocs seemed not to even notice Talon. She was, after all, only a young woman, and so, like Alun, was beneath them.

"A smart man would be thinking about how to better his lot in life," Drewish said. "A smart man would be thinking about how to get himself some forcibles. That s the way of the future. All of our breeding, it won t count for a turd-not when a man like you could take the strength of five men, the wisdom of ten, and the speed of three."

"What are you talking about?" Alun asked.

Talon knew that Alun had heard about this new rune lore, of course, but apparently he hadn t entertained the notion that he might actually be granted endowments.

"Forcibles, you know," Drewish said. He reached into his tunic, pulled out a long purse, and let it sway like a bell. Talon could hear forcibles clanging together, like dry pieces of wood.

"Where did you get those?" Alun asked. He reached up to grab the bag.

But Drewish pulled them just out of his grasp. "The blood metal is everywhere. No big trick to having someone make a few forcibles for you, if you know who to talk to. The big trick now will be finding someone who is willing to give you an endowment. Take your pick-wit, stamina, grace? Who will give you theirs? What coin can you offer to get it?"

"I don t know," Alun said, mystified.

Certainly, Talon thought, no one would give Alun an endowment.

He must have thought the same. "What are you offering?" Alun asked. "Do you want my endowment?"

"Not yours," Drewish laughed. "Your dogs. A dog can give up an endowment as easily as a man. You want strength? Those mastiffs of yours have it. You want stamina, speed? There s a dog for that. Scent and hearing too. But we need the dogs to give up those endowments. We need their master to coax the gifts from them. That s where you come in. The dogs love you. You re their feeder, their handler. They re completely devoted to you, not to us."

Drewish took out a pair of forcibles. "One forcible for every six dogs," Connor said, "that s what I m offering. You ll be a Runelord if you take me up on it."

Alun considered.

Talon knew that it was tempting. Alun had fourteen dogs. If he sold Connor and Drewish a dozen endowments, he d have a pair of forcibles and could take two endowments himself.

He d be a Runelord. Perhaps with some strength and stamina, he could become more of a warrior, raise his own lot in life.

But Connor and Drewish would both still be far more powerful than he. Right now, they loomed over him, subtly threatening.

And where would Alun go to get endowments from humans once his dogs had all been used up? No one would give them to someone like him.

It wasn t much of an offer, Talon decided.

Petty bribes and threats, that s how the Madocs led.

She wondered if she might buy the endowments from Alun herself, but she had little coin to offer. There were a few treasures in her dowry box, but she d been forced to leave that back in Cantular. Doubtlessly, her pair of fine gold rings would end up decorating some wyrmling lord s nostrils.

From the council chamber, she heard Daylan cry out in anguish, "There is no law against compassion. It is true that I broke your laws, but I did it only to obey a higher law. How can we serve society if we do not serve the individual first?"

There was a brief moment of silence, and Daylan cried out again. "If you would resist evil, you cannot just stand idly by and watch its dominion spread. You must thwart Despair s every design!"

Both Connor and Drewish turned to glance into the council chamber.

Talon realized that Daylan was in the other room searching for a way to save the world, while she, Connor, and Drewish were plotting how to overthrow it.

I don t want to be like them, she told herself.

And suddenly she knew that she could not let the likes of Connor and Drewish get control of those dogs-or take endowments from any other man or woman.

He is a fool who empowers his enemies, Talon thought. It was something that her father used to say.

Connor and Drewish were rotten to the core. Their father, despite all of his talk of serving the people, had been no better than his sons, and in the end, when Talon had watched him fall to his death from the parapet at Caer Luciare, she had felt no more loss than if she had ground a cockroach under her heel.

"How can we do this?" Alun asked the Madocs. "How can we grant you these endowments? People will see what we re up to. Some will object."

"We will do it with their permission," Connor said. "The jewelers and smiths are already at work making the forcibles, putting the runes in them. Daylan Hammer and the emir plan to lead a team to Rugassa to free Areth Sul Urstone and that runt of a wizard Fallion. I want to go with them. I want to be among the heroes that helps free them." He hesitated for a moment, as if Alun might object, but Alun held his tongue. "So when the time comes, I want you to offer your dogs as Dedicates, and suggest that we be granted those endowments. It will sound better coming from you."

Talon wondered. She could think of no good reason why the Madocs would make such a grandiose gesture as to join the rescue.

Connor was rumored to be an outstanding swordsman, but in raids against the wyrmlings, neither he nor Drewish bloodied their weapons. They consistently failed to prove themselves in battle.

They preferred to stand back from the front and observe the engagements, as if they were superb strategists who were studying wyrmling tactics so that they might use their knowledge to great advantage to win some future war.

Meanwhile, Talon thought, Alun has risked his neck and cut down the wyrmlings in a haze of rage.

Even that runt Alun is better than them, Talon thought. They might have the breeding for war, but they don t have the heart for battle.

No, she did not trust the Madoc clan.

Talon began to suspect the Madocs of darker motives. Neither of the Madocs would want to see Prince Areth Sul Urstone take the throne.

It would be far better for them if he died, along with Fallion, the emir, and anyone else who took that journey.

Talon suspected that she understood precisely why Connor and Drewish hoped to join the rescue party.

But Alun could not deny them, not without incurring their wrath-and risking retribution.

"I ll do it," Alun said. Connor reached out a hand to shake. Alun shook at the wrist, as was the custom with warriors. Moments later, the Madocs stalked away.

"You can t help them," Talon whispered when they were out of earshot. "Those men are up to no good. You can t empower your enemies."

"What else can I do?" Alun asked.

"Offer the dogs to the emir," Talon said.

"What? And wind up with my throat cut in my sleep? No thank you."

"I ll protect you," Talon said. She meant it.

"What, a girl-protect me? I d rather you let me die."

Talon suddenly realized that he had never seen her fight. In fact, on his world, he d never seen a woman warrior.

It was hours later when the council finally broke up.

Erringale led the way from the darkened council chamber, with the emir, Daylan Hammer, the Wizard Sisel, and the rest of the Bright Ones behind. The Glories had departed.

Talon could see from the smile upon Daylan s face that the council had gone well. Inside the great hall, Erringale climbed a short landing beside the river, and began to speak in his strange tongue, the words filling Talon s mind.

"The White Council has spoken," Erringale said. "The Bright Ones and Glories of our world have all been consulted, and a consensus has been reached."

Talon wondered at those words. Certainly these few Bright Ones in the sanctuary couldn t be "all" of the Bright Ones in the world.

So Talon could only imagine that Erringale had spoken to their minds, as he spoke to Talon now.

"The people of Luciare are free to remain here for three days, to rest yourselves, recover from your injuries, and refresh your spirits. But at the end of those three days, you must return to your world."

At that, the people around Talon gave a cheer. Erringale raised his hands for silence and in a few moments, the people quieted. "Daylan Hammer has petitioned our help. He hopes to free your prince, Areth Sul Urstone, from the wyrmling horde, along with our Torch-bearer.

"We also wish to see them freed.

"But our people cannot lightly interfere in the affairs of the shadow worlds. Therefore, we offer aid in the form of council: we urge you to do harm to no man, be he human or wyrmling. To do violence to another is to injure your own soul.

"Still, we recognize that it is not always possible to remain free from another s blood."

New thoughts struck Talon as Erringale spoke, strange notions that she had never considered. It was as if a great argument had been raging for eons among the Bright Ones, and now a thousand thoughts came swirling into her head.

The war between the Bright Ones and Despair was an endless one, and was not a war between creatures of flesh. Rather, Talon recognized that the life of the spirit was more important to Erringale and his people than the life of the flesh. And certain acts did not just injure the spirit, they could wound it to death.

A man who steals from another, Erringale warned, a man who does injury to the truth, or who does violence to another, wounds his own soul in the process, and weakens his spirit. We warn you against such things. It is only as you remain true to your conscience that your spirit can grow and mature.

Talon was baffled by that. She considered Erringale s argument, and then just as quickly set it aside, neither wholly rejecting it nor accepting it.

She had been trained to fight wyrmlings from birth. They had murdered millions of her people over the past few centuries.

Of course she would kill them in battle. She could see no dishonor in that.

"Though we cannot offer our service in battle," Erringale said softly, "we wish to send emissaries to your world. I wish to come. I would commune with the True Tree, if you will let me."

Talon understood more than the words that were spoken. She realized that Erringale would not visit her world unless he had an invitation from its people.

As one, the folk of Luciare said, "Come."

At that, the emir of Dalharristan got up to speak. "For far too long, my friend Areth Sul Urstone has languished in the dungeons of Rugassa. He was once like a brother to me, and already I have told you of his character. I pray that he is still alive, though long have I feared for him. Now it is time to set him free. I ask for help as a friend, not as your leader. High King Urstone was your leader, and Areth is his heir. There is none worthier to lead us, none braver or wiser, none more compassionate or just.

"Few of you here knew him as I did. Few of you can call him friend. But I need you to look into your hearts and see if you can serve him now.

"I have sworn to the Glories that I will free Areth Sul Urstone and Fallion Orden, and that I will do it with as little violence as I can.

"But I am only one man. I need the strength and speed of many if I am to accomplish this task. I would take endowments from the others if I could-from the small folk of the world, who will soon be caught up in our war. But we stand in desperate need now. I cannot go searching afar.

"Among the Bright Ones there was once a race of lawmen called the Ael. They were given endowments by their people, strengthened by them. The Bright Ones have agreed to grant endowments once again, the first in many long years.

"Who among you can find the daring within yourselves to come with me? Who among you can offer up an endowment, that you might free your king?"

There was dead silence in the great hall. All that could be heard was the tinkling of water, the call of cave crickets. As a whole, the people of Luciare did not understand much about the endowment system yet. But Talon knew it well.

If you gave up your wit, you gave it up so long as both you and your lord should live. The chances were good that you would die an idiot, unable to feed yourself, unable to recognize your best friend or child or even the woman that you loved.

If you gave up strength, no matter how mighty you were, you became so enfeebled that you might not be able to hobble across a room or draw enough breath to speak. Many were the men who died after giving strength, for their hearts soon wore out. To give an endowment was a curse.

Talon was standing beside Alun. Suddenly Connor whispered "Now!" and gave Alun a shove, so that he went lurching forward.

Alun cleared his throat. He did not have to feign nervousness, for it came to his tongue naturally. "I–I," he stammered. "I would like to offer my dogs…"

And he then fumbled, as if he could say no more.

Smart boy, Talon realized. He could not refuse to offer the dogs to the Madocs. But by feigning nervousness, he d made half an offer.

Let the emir have the dogs strength and speed. Let the emir be empowered. And Alun could only hope that Connor and Drewish did not exact too much revenge.

A brief silence followed as the emir considered the offer. Seeing that Alun had fumbled his words, Connor stepped forward.

"I would join you in this quest," Connor said. "And it is with heartfelt thanks that I accept Alun s generous offer."

The emir gave Connor a piercing look. Certainly he suspected Connor s motives. "I believe," he said dryly, "that Alun offered his dogs to me."

At that moment, a man stepped forward, a wealthy merchant of forty years whose finery was perhaps unsurpassed in all of the warrior clans. His name was Thull-turock. In Caer Luciare he had been a wealthy merchant, but Talon recognized him as a man who had lived a double life. Upon Fallion s world, he had been a powerful facilitator, a man who made his living by crafting forcibles, choosing potential Dedicates for his lords and then transferring endowments.

In a matter of two days, Thull-turock had risen to become one of the most influential men among the clans.

He strode forward, with glittering eyes like a snake s, and shouted into the emir s face. "And how do you propose to regain this prince of yours without taking endowments? For surely you will not receive them from my hand."

"I…" The emir stood, confused. Thull-turock had long been a friend, and had dined with the emir at the lords table many a night, reveling in the emir s presence, jesting with him. Now Thull-turock had turned against him.

"I will not grant you endowments," Thull-turock repeated. "Once I called you friend, but I know you too well!"

Talon was stunned. She thought, The Madocs seem to have corrupted more men than I thought possible.

"What?" Tuul Ra demanded of Thull-turock. "Which of my good deeds do you decry?"

"It is not your good deeds upon this world that I decry," Thull-turock shouted. "It was what you did upon the shadow world. It is what I suspect that you are destined to become that I decry."

From an old woman at Talon s back came a shout, "Murderer!" From around the camp arose cries of "Fiend!" "Warmonger!" "Monster!"

From the rage on various faces, Talon realized that hundreds of folks had evil memories of the emir, and a full third of the camp had heard rumors of what he d done on Fallion s world.

Talon had lived on both worlds. She felt that she should know what was wrong, but right now, she was baffled.

The emir only gaped in astonishment. His dark-skinned daughter, Siyaddah, came to his side defensively; tears sprang to her eyes, and she stood peering about like a wounded dove, shaken.

"Wait!" Daylan Hammer cried, calling for quiet. He spoke to Thullturock in a soft and reasonable tone. "Does your law allow you to condemn a man for a crime that he has not committed? The emir is innocent. You know that! Look in your heart, and you must find him innocent."

"Until now Tuul Ra has shown no desire to take endowments," Thullturock explained, "and so I have kept my silence. But you must know, I will not grant endowments to him. He must never taste the kiss of the forcible!"

Daylan said in a soft tone, reasonably, "You think that a taste of the forcible will corrupt him?"

"It has corrupted other men. It corrupted his shadow self. As a facilitator, I swore an oath never to grant endowments to a man that I mistrust."

"The emir is made of better stuff than other men, I think," Daylan argued. "Surely you would agree?"

Thull-turock growled, "You know what he did in Indhopal."

Suddenly Talon understood-the Fiend of Indhopal, Raj Ahten. She had never met the man. Her father, Borenson, had helped kill him before she was born. Could the emir be the Raj s shadow self?

It seemed impossible. Raj had been an old man when he d marched against the nations of Rofehavan.

But had he been old, Talon suddenly wondered, or had his forcibles aged him?

He d taken thousands of endowments of brawn, wit, and stamina, of course. And he d taken many endowments of metabolism.

Like any man, he would have aged quickly afterward. If he d taken eight or ten endowments of metabolism, he might have grown old and died within a decade.

Yet the emir seemed young to her-younger than Sir Borenson.

Then, she realized, her father had taken endowments of metabolism, too. Both men had aged preternaturally.

The emir stared at Thull-turock in blank horror. "What did I do on that other world?" he begged. "Tell me. Accuse me."

"That was not the emir," Daylan argued, forestalling the inevitable revelation with a wave of the hand. "It was but a shadow, a creature that this emir could have become."

"And yet," Thull-turock countered, "it seems that there is a pattern to things. In Indhopal, Raj Ahten was the most powerful lord of his time. In this world, the emir is much the same-a man with an unnatural talent for war."

"And so you fear that he will become another Raj Ahten?"

"I cannot help but see the potential," Thull-turock said.

"Don t be afraid to give him endowments," Daylan said. "It is true that the kiss of the forcible corrupts many, but it will not sway the emir."

"So say you," Thull-turock argued. "But Raj Ahten loved the forcible, and craved it like nothing else."

The emir stepped between the men, and raised his hands in surrender. "Thull-turock, if you do not trust me to take endowments, then I will not. But I cannot go back on my oath. I must free Areth Sul Urstone."

"And if you were to try to break into Rugassa without endowments my friend," Daylan said gently, "it would be suicide. Even with your talent, I fear that you could not stand against a Runelord."

Daylan looked to Thull-turock pleadingly. "The emir is unlike his shadow. He is mature, and wise. But Raj Ahten was only a child when first he felt the ecstasy of the forcible." Daylan turned to Thull-turock and asked, "How many children have you heard of who can resist the forcible, once having been subjected to it? It is a heady wine."

Thull-turock mused, "A man who will become a sot will do so no matter how old he is when he begins to drink."

"Perhaps," Daylan said. "But we are not talking about wine here-we are talking about greed, and vanity, and lust for power. That is what destroyed Raj Ahten. But who has seen such vices in the emir?" Daylan reached into his tunic and pulled out a small book with a doeskin binding. "I found this among Fallion s effects. It is the Earth King s own journal. It reveals much about Raj Ahten and how he fell." Daylan raised the book overhead and spoke to the crowd. "Raj Ahten was a young man of fourteen, lusting for power, when he first tasted the fruits of the forcible. He had seen reaver attacks in his own land, reavers slaughtering his friends and father; ancient guardians revealed to him that the reavers were going to rise from the earth in force and that he was among the few who had the means, the strength, and the will to stop them-"

"Much as our emir hopes to save the world from the wyrmling horde," Thull-turock put in.

"But with one difference," Daylan countered, "The Raj was but a child, filled with a child s daydreams. And he was surrounded by sorcerers, flameweavers that pandered to him and aroused his lusts.

"The emir is no child," Daylan continued. "He has held power-held it and lost it again, so that its allure has faded. Now he rejects your honors. He does not ask to be your king. He asks only for the boon of saving the best man among you.

"He has learned the price of leadership. He does not ask to direct these people, rather only that he be able to restore the rightful leader to power.

"How can you argue against that?"

Thull-turock inclined his head, thinking. He took a step away from Daylan Hammer, and peered off into the dim recesses of the cavern while he considered. "Both Raj and the emir were convinced that they were doing what was right when they started down this path. And Fire whispers to them, seeks to claim them. Surely you cannot ask me to grant endowments to someone that you know to be a flameweaver."

"Is he a flameweaver?" Daylan asked. He turned to the emir. "I have never heard such."

The emir could have lied, Talon thought. But he admitted softly, "I have some small skill. I can keep smoke from following me at the fire, and I can twist flames if I want. But I have never sought that power, and in fact I shy away from it. It fills you with a hunger that can never be fulfilled, and so it must be shunned."

That satisfied some, but others remained unconvinced.

"Raj Ahten became the greatest flameweaver his world had ever known," Thull-turock said. "In the end, he lost his humanity."

"But our emir has not gone down that path," Daylan countered. "If I were you, I would rejoice that our Emir Tuul Ra has this gift. If we are to rescue Fallion Orden and Prince Areth Sul Urstone, we will have need of a flameweaver. Vulgnash has consummate skill in the art, and he has endowments to boot. Thus Fallion has proven helpless against him. But perhaps Fallion and the Emir Tuul Ra together…"

Daylan let the thought hang in the air. "But we cannot rely upon their skill alone. We have no way of knowing how many endowments Vulgnash has garnered; we must suspect that he will be one of the wyrmlings greatest champions.

"Thus, the emir may be our only hope. And he will need to have more than just endowments-he must begin to develop Raj Ahten s mastery of Fire."

Talon had been inclined to give the emir a chance, to judge him on his own merits. But suddenly she found her heart thrilling from fear.

"This is madness!" Thull-turock exclaimed. "You would create a new Raj Ahten?"

"Not all flameweavers are evil," Daylan said. "There are men who have mastered their passions to such a degree that Fire could not control them. In ancient times, some of these men were more than monsters. They became vessels of light, pure and radiant, filled with wisdom and intelligence and compassion. They were great healers. Fire revealed the future to them, and hidden dangers, and thus they were a boon to their people.

"Hence, they were called the Bright Ones, and even today, the ignorant people of Fallion s world call all men of the netherworld such, not realizing that thereby they are bestowing false honors upon many." Daylan jutted his chin toward Lord Erringale, and Talon knew that he, too, must be a skilled flameweaver. "Of all Bright Ones, the man you call Fallion Orden was perhaps the greatest."

"My little Fallion?" Thull-turock asked in astonishment.

"Has been born time and again," Daylan said, "a thousand times over. For eons he has sought a way to bind the worlds, and finally he has succeeded.

"If the Bright Ones prophecies prove true, great things are at hand: a war that will rage across the universe, and that, if all goes well, could end with all of the worlds reuniting into one perfect whole, where death will be but a memory, and all pains and wants vanquished.

"That world is what Fallion seeks to create. That is what our enemy hopes to thwart-or to sieze."

The emir had been listening carefully, and now he seemed lost in thought. Talon knew what Daylan was asking of him. He would have to sacrifice much. By taking endowments, he would be giving up his life in service for his fellow men. By studying the lore of flameweavers, he would be giving up his life in service to Fire.

It was a slippery tightrope to try to walk. No man can serve two masters. Raj Ahten had failed miserably.

How could the emir hope to do more?

"Daylan," Thull-turock said, "if you think there is nothing to fear from the emir, then you are mad!"

"No," Daylan said. "I am not mad. But I am desperate, and one might reason that desperation is its own kind of madness. Certainly, too often it leads to folly. But only in taking this desperate course can we hope to win a nearly impossible reward.

"But I must tell you, Thull-turock, that I believe that your fears are not justified. It was neither the love of the forcible nor of flames that Raj Ahten succumbed to in the end. At the very last, Raj Ahten demanded that others call him by a new name-Scathain, Lord of the Ashes. Have you heard this?"

"I have heard that he went by that name," Thull-turock said. "What of it?"

"That name is well known here in the netherworld," Lord Erringale said loudly, his voice cutting through the room. He gazed down, held his hands reflectively. "It is the name of a powerful locus, a wyrm if you will. Among the loci, Scathain was second-in-command to Despair herself. Many worlds has that one destroyed."

This news seemed to discomfit the emir more than anything that had been said. He was at a disadvantage in the argument, for he could not have known what had happened with Raj Ahten. But he understood the lore of wyrms.

"If this is true," the emir reasoned, "then when your Raj Ahten was killed, his wyrm did not die with him! How do we know that this Scathain will not seize me? How do we know that I am not already host to a wyrm?"

Around the circle, there were cries of agreement. Talon glanced at Drewish Madoc and saw the young man s eyes glimmering insanely. He loved this. He loved watching a good man be destroyed.

"Consider this," Daylan called to the crowd, "the emir is a generous man, a giving man, and a courageous one. He has always spoken the truth in my presence, so long as it is polite to do so and not too hard for his hearer to bear. His word has ever been his bond. He is faithful to his people, and has no lust for honor, no craving for wealth.

"A man who is infected with a wyrm doesn t retain such virtues. And Scathain is one of the most sinister of all wyrms. Even if Scathain had entered the emir and tried to hide his lusts and deceit, he would not be able to do so for long.

"The emir is pure. No wyrm has taken him. And so long as he remains pure of heart, none can, not even one so powerful as Scathain."

At that there were also cries of agreement. Daylan Hammer had assuaged nearly all of Thull-turock s concerns, and Talon could feel that the crowd was swaying toward Daylan s cause.

"It may be," Daylan said loudly, addressing the crowd, "that the only reason that the raj succumbed to a wyrm had more to do with the raj s ignorance than his weaknesses. The lore of the loci had been all but lost upon his world."

"They knew nothing of the loci?" Lord Erringale asked, astonished.

"The knowledge of loci was purposely hidden from the populace thousands of years ago. There was a time on Fallion s world when those suspected of harboring a locus were executed summarily, and many innocent men and women died; much evil was done in the name of self-preservation.

"The folk of Luciare have had similar purges, though never to the same extent.

"And so that knowledge was concealed."

"Thus a man who might have been a great ally on Fallion s world succumbed to a wyrm, never suspecting that such a creature even existed. The raj took one misstep at a time, heedlessly bumbling down the path of destruction, until at the very last he became so filled with rage and lust for power that he could not withstand the wyrm when it seized him."

There were looks of astonishment on people s faces. From birth, Talon s mother Gatunyea had instilled a fear of evil in her. Talon had been trained to fear nothing so much as the thought that she might someday be seized by a wyrm.

Daylan said at last, "So, it will not happen to the emir. He has known of the existence of wyrms since childhood, and he has ranged far to avoid the danger."

The facilitator clasped his hands behind his back, and peered down at the ground. "I don t like this," Thull-turock said. "I don t like the way we re rushing into this. The emir needs to be tested in so many ways. Yet you urge me to hasten to make forcibles."

"We have no choice," Daylan said. "Our enemies have set the timetable. Already the wyrmlings are digging up a mountain of blood metal and have sent their first shipment to Rugassa. The journey there will take them three nights-perhaps less, since they will be in a hurry to please their lord.

"Think what will happen once the emperor gets those shipments: he ll begin creating his own champions in earnest. And who will he grant the endowments to?"

"The Knights Eternal," Thull-turock said, as if chilled by the thought.

"The emperor has millions of people that he can use as Dedicates. What s more, Rugassa lies close to the borders of Beldinook. By now, the emperor is already getting acquainted with his new neighbors. What do you think he will do with the small folk?"

In the old days, Talon knew, the wyrmlings would have just butchered them, harvesting their glands for their fearsome elixirs or simply using their bodies for meat. They would not even have considered taking slaves. But in this new world, the wyrmlings would put the small folk to better uses: they could put them to the forcible, take their attributes.

"I see," Thull-turock said.

"We cannot let that happen. We cannot let any forcibles reach Rugassa. We must act swiftly. We must have a war party take endowments and be ready to leave tomorrow-at the latest. And we cannot fail! My heart warns me that we may get only one chance at this, one chance to save ourselves before the wyrmlings take their mountain of blood metal and seize control of the world for all time."

"A single day is not much time to grant endowments."

Daylan said, "Our champions won t need a full complement. They won t need to be battle-ready. We only need them to get started. We can pass more endowments to them as they travel, vectoring them through Dedicates. Erringale s people will help you make the forcibles."

"How many shall we send into battle?" Thull-turock asked.

"We will need some men to help carry those that we rescue. We ll need others to act as point and rear guards. At a minimum, we need four champions, probably five. I would like more, but it would stretch our resources to try to endow so many. I would invite the Cormar twins," Daylan suggested. "They already have some endowments and they proved themselves at the battle for Caer Luciare. I would like to go, too, for I have a few endowments to my credit. That leaves only two openings. The emir is the best man for the job…"

Instantly, Talon knew that she had to be among that war party. Fallion was more than just a friend to her. He d been raised as her brother, and she loved him dearly. It was only right that she go with the rescue party.

Thull-turock said, "You sent Fallion s woman, Rhianna, to seek for Dedicates among the small folk. Can we afford to wait for her to return?"

"I sent her mainly to forewarn the small folk," Daylan countered, "so that they can protect themselves from the wyrmling troops. We must hinder the wyrmlings any way that we can. It may be that the small folk will offer us some support, but we cannot rely upon them, and we dare not wait."

Talon wished that she had known where Rhianna was going earlier. She would have hugged her and bade her farewell. It would not be easy trying to find allies for Fallion. But no one in the world loved Fallion as much as Rhianna did. No one would try as hard as she.

"You propose taking a great risk," Thull-turock said.

"Take the risk with me," Daylan begged. "We need to stand together on this. We need the emir, and he will need your people to grant him endowments."

"And what if we fail? What if this great wrym takes the emir? What if we breathe life into a monster?"

"There is a fiend in each of us," Daylan said, "in every man, woman, and child. The emir wrestled his into submission long ago." Daylan said this with finality, as if he was sure of his argument.

"And if it escapes?"

"Then I will kill the emir myself," Daylan replied.

The emir shook his head in dismay. "I would take my own life, rather than allow a wyrm to have it."

All of them were quiet for a moment. The facilitator seemed unsure. "Help us," Daylan begged Thull-turock. "Help us all create a better world. This is not just about me and you. It is not just a war confined to these few thousand people. Worlds are at stake here. Eternities are at stake. We fight for things beyond your ability to even dream…"

"Is not every war such a war?" Thull-turock asked. "At least, we tell ourselves so."

The men stood a moment, poised in thought.

Talon wondered at the consequences of this public argument. In order to grant endowments to another, it had to be done willingly. But who would give endowments to the Emir Tuul Ra now, knowing what all of them knew? Even if their minds wanted to give up the endowment, the heart would balk.

Daylan Hammer seemed to have won his argument, but he had done so only in appearance.

The emir held his daughter, Siyaddah, trying to comfort her. But it seemed to Talon that the emir was the one who would need comforting. Thull-turock had poisoned the crowd against him.

After a lifetime of proving himself to Talon s people, the emir needed to do so once again.

Siyaddah peered up at the emir and declared loudly. "I want to be first to offer an endowment to my father. I grant you my speed, that you might hurry into battle, if you will take it?"

No daughter had ever broken her father s heart so cruelly. The emir needed endowments. He needed his people to step forward, and by offering her speed, Siyaddah was urging others to follow her example.

At the same time, she was placing herself forever beyond his reach. For once she gave an endowment of metabolism, she would fall into an enchanted slumber, never to waken until he died, or else to die in her sleep.

More than that, she was placing herself beyond the heart of any man. The emir had long hoped that she would marry his closest friend, Areth Sul Urstone. She herself was more interested in Fallion. Now, neither of the men would ever win her heart.

It was a cruel gift to offer, for the emir could not refuse it. He had sworn to save his friend.

"Very well," Erringale said. "It is in the finest tradition of the Ael that those who know the candidate best be first to offer up an endowment. Who else among you will grant this greatest of gifts?"

There was a moment of utter silence as each of the emir s supporters waited for someone else to offer an endowment.

This isn t right, Talon thought. The emir is one of the best swordsmen in the clans, and he is by far the finest strategist. He knows the enemy better than does any other man.

And suddenly, Talon realized how the emir might prove himself to his people once again.

She strode to the emir and slapped his face, hard.

"Emir Tuul Ra," she said, "I challenge you to a duel. I ll fight you for the right to win a place in this rescue party."