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 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.”