Worldbinder

AN UNHOLY PROPOSITION

Vomiting from pain, Areth Sul Urstone was dragged up an endless flight of stairs to the uppermost chamber of the dark tower at Rugassa.

There, he was thrown to the floor, where he lay on cold marble tiles that had been swept by the wind. The top of the tower was an observatory with a domed roof. Around it, pillars of black marble carved to look like tree trunks and vines held the roof aloft. Between the pillars was nothing, only open air, sweet and cold at this height.

From here, Areth could see the dark forests in the distance, crowded with hoary pines. Closer by the bulk of the great bastion of Rugassa stretched-mile upon mile of stone walls and fortifications, manned by hundreds of thousands of wyrmling troops.

I could throw myself over the edge of the tower, Areth thought. I could put an end to my pain.

But a pair of guards hunkered over him, and Areth’s muscles were so cramped that he could hardly move. He’d never make it to the tower’s edge.

From before one of the dark pillars a shadow separated, a phantom in black robes that floated above the floor. It was the Emperor Zul-torac.

“Do you wonder why I have brought you here?” he said, his voice a whisper so soft, it seemed almost to echo in one’s head, like a thought. “There is a battle raging at Luciare, a battle that is already lost.”

The light was faint. Only starlight from the skies above filtered into the observatory. But Areth had spent long years in the darkness, and he had become well accustomed to it. He spotted a glint, saw the emperor raise a golden tube and aim it into the distance-an ocular. The emperor hissed the name of the glyph upon the instrument, and an image leapt into the room.

Areth could see Luciare there under the starlight, its image unnaturally bright. Thousands of warriors lay in ruin before the upper gate. Their heads were heaped into ghastly piles.

The ancient spirit lights of the city had gone black, and now a wyrmling army stood before Luciare itself. Thunder drums pounded, blasting at the city walls. Sheets of stone tumbled free, revealing the sacred halls of Luciare.

Even as Areth watched, a fast-flying Knight Eternal went winging into the upper levels where the women and children would be hiding.

He goes like a jay, to pluck the chicks from the nest of his enemies, Areth thought.

The ocular carried some sounds from the distant battle, the snarl and boom of the thunder drums. Suddenly, the frightened screams of babes was added to the mix.

Areth turned away, unable to look any longer.

Haven’t they tormented me enough? Areth wondered. How much more do they think I can stand?

“You can save them,” Emperor Zul-torac whispered. “You can save the last seeds of mankind.”

Areth’s mind seemed to do a little flip. The emperor had nearly echoed the words from his dream only an hour before. And now he heard the Earth Spirit begging him once again to save the seeds of mankind.

Had it been a sending? Had he truly been given such a charge?

In all of the history of the world, Areth had never heard of such a thing. He had no reason to believe that the dream was anything but madness.

Suddenly his feet cramped, and he felt as if they’d been placed in a fire. Were they burning one of his Dedicates? Areth could not be sure.

“What?” Areth begged. “What do I have to do?”

“Nothing much,” the emperor said softly. “Lady Despair desires you. You have only to open yourself, allow a wyrm to feed upon your soul.”

My soul, Areth wondered, to save a city?

How often he had dreamed of freeing himself, of slaughtering the emperor and returning to Luciare as a hero. How often he had imagined the cheers and the adulation.

Now, in a twisted way, those dreams could come true.

One soul. One tormented soul was all that it would take.

“You have taken an endowment of touch from a single boy,” Zul-torac said. “I will take a knife, hold him down. When I cut his throat, you will be freed from the source of your pain, and then the wyrm will enter you, and the city will be spared.”

A wave of pain and nausea washed through Prince Areth Urstone, and he peered at the image of Luciare through eyes misted by tears.