For an instant Talon feared that they had all left her behind.
But then the door slammed to a halt, and she saw what had happened. Two wyrmling axes had been placed beneath the door, their pommels in a groove in the floor, their heads up forming a T.
The emir had paved the way for her escape.
Talon reached the door, dropped her charge, and rolled under. By the time that she got to her feet, Daylan and the emir had pulled the wyrmling through, and the emir urged Talon, 'You go ahead. I ll give you a rest.'
Talon realized what he was doing. She had far more endowments than he. She might well be needed if it came to a fight. She didn t dare waste her energy being a pack mule.
So she went charging down the corridor, now racing ahead of Rhianna. Wyrmling troops were suddenly thick in the tunnels, and Talon had to shove each of them aside, gently, as if she were only practicing moves for a sparring match.
Suddenly she reached the exit, smelled open fields and pine trees, and went charging out into the night. The sky seemed to yawn wide overhead, and stars powdered the heavens. Off to the east, the slender crescent of a new moon was just clearing the mountains.
Down below her, tens of thousands of wyrmlings filled the courtyard.
Lord Despair was in his private quarters, dining with Scathain and making plans for the future, when he heard the warning gongs. Scathain raised a brow, giving Despair an inquisitive look, and Despair wondered what had happened. He felt inside himself, seeking the counsel of the Earth Spirit. There was no attack. Neither he nor any of his chosen lords were in danger, of that he felt certain.
'Probably one of the tunnels has collapsed,' Despair told his visitor. 'That is a constant danger when living underground. In the recent binding of the worlds, the ground here has been destabilized. A couple of small sections of tunnel have collapsed in the past few days. It is probably nothing.'
It took several long minutes for the captain of the guard to bring word, interrupting dinner.
'Lord Despair,' the captain cried as soon as he entered the door, 'the prisoners have escaped!'
Despair stared blankly at the man for half a second, unsure if he believed his ears. This was a terrible embarrassment.
'Impossible,' Despair said.
I chose my prisoners guards, he thought. The earth should have warned me if they had been killed.
He looked into his heart, felt for the guards in the dungeon. His earth senses let him pinpoint their location.
They were alive. They were well. They were at their posts still.
Suddenly Despair laughed at his own folly.
'That clever girl,' he told his guest. 'She came in right under our noses and stole my prisoners-without taking a single life!
'But it will do her no good. Fallion is one of my chosen ones. I can sense his whereabouts.'
He felt the young man, fleeing swiftly from the fortress.
Despair rushed out to the parapet of his tower, and in one mighty leap he was atop one of his stone gargoyles, peering down from it, using its head as his vantage point.
The Darkling Glory raced up behind, flew atop a gargoyle beside him.
Down below were his prisoners, streaking out across the plain. Fallion was glowing brightly, a brilliant and unearthly white.
The prisoners were racing away so fast that Fallion looked almost like a comet streaking across the dark plain. Wyrmlings fell back from the light by the score, and Rhianna roared in warning, so that his people cleared a trail for the prisoners. In seconds they were beyond the wall and off into the brooding pines that surrounded the fortress now, and then Fallion let his brightness fade.
The Light-bringer lives up to his name, Despair thought.
Despair considered going down among the fools, doing battle. He felt no fear of his enemy s champions. The Earth did not warn against it, and he knew that they could not slay his body.
But Fallion had a power that no other flameweaver had ever displayed. He could shine so fiercely that he could slay a locus, incinerate it.
Would the Earth Spirit warn me of such danger? Despair wondered. No, it wouldn t. A locus is not a human. The Earth Spirit would not value its life.
I dare not try to take them alone, he thought. I need Vulgnash.
But Vulgnash was hours away, and his quest was of tremendous import. He had to win control over the blood-metal mines, and until he was finished, he could not be spared nor distracted.
And what harm does it do to let them run? Despair wondered. None of my servants was killed. My enemies only deceive themselves. They believe that they have freed Fallion, not knowing that he can never escape.
The guard had rushed in at Despair s back, and now he begged, 'Shall I have men give chase?'
'You can t catch them,' Despair said. 'And if you did, it is not in your power to take them.'
But Despair had a servant who could. He sent a thought to Vulgnash: When you finish punishing my enemies, return with all haste. Bring back some blood-metal ore for forcibles.
'Would you like some help?' Scathain said. 'I can have a murder of Darkling Glories here within minutes.'
Lord Despair smiled.
'Get them. It s time that these fools get a demonstration of what will come.'
The Darkling Glory did not walk back into the tunnel. Instead he leapt from the gargoyle s head and went winging up the mountain, toward the cone of the volcano, where the door to the netherworld stood open.
Despair turned to the captain of the guard. 'Tell the tormentors to get to work upon Fallion s Dedicates. I want him reeling in agony.'
24
At the End of Time, darkness shall cover the world, and gross darkness shall fill the hearts of men.
Just outside the walls of Rugassa, the Emir Tuul Ra halted long enough to steal a vehicle. It was a simple wyrmling handcart-two wheels and a tiny bed, with a couple of long poles to use as handles. The handcart was empty, and the wyrmling woman who was pulling it never knew what hit her. A simple tap from behind sent her sprawling into the dusty road, and the emir had her cart.
The emir knew the wyrmling tongue well. He had not wanted to hurt the woman. There were no words to make apologies in the wyrmling tongue, so he called out, 'We have great need. Be well.'
He urged Talon to throw Kirissa into the cart, and Rhianna dropped Fallion on the back, and off they went, racing down the road, running at sixty miles an hour.
By the time that the wyrmling woman recovered enough to climb to her feet and hurl some curses at the thieves, the cart was far, far up the road.
Rhianna led the way, clearing the trail before them. The emir pulled the handcart, while Talon pushed it from behind. Daylan Hammer could not match their speed, and so they asked him to jump aboard so that they could make better time.
The green around the fortress had been clogged with wyrmling foresters and hunters, miners, and soldiers, for many in the great horde had come out to work for the night, but it was not yet an hour past dusk, and two miles from the fortress the roads were clear.
So Rhianna, Talon, and the emir ran.
After five miles, they topped a wooded hill and gazed back toward Rugassa. The trees overhead covered the
