Wizardborn (The Runelords, 3) - Softcover

Chapter 1
TONGUES OF LIGHTNING

Truth is stronger than many armies, and the wicked shall fall before it.
--A proverb of the Ah'kellah


Night had fallen in earnest while the Brotherhood of the Wolf rode south, but when the warriors reached Carris there was light to see by. An inferno blazed in a stone tower, its roof and inner chambers incandescent, as if it were a giant torch. Watch fires licked the city walls.
Lightning split the night on the southern horizon, like the flickering tongue of a serpent that spoke words of thunder.
The riders let their horses race the last two miles, harnesses and armor jangling. Of the forty lords in the retinue, only three had brought lances. They rode point, lest they should come upon a reaver in the darkness.
Ash mingled with rain so that mud pummeled them from the sky with the weight of mercury. It oozed through Myrrima's cloak.
As the riders crested the hill above the Barrens Wall, the men around Myrrima gasped in amazement. "See there!" one cried. He pointed to the yawning pit from which the world worm had risen. It looked like a small volcano--a cone two hundred yards across and three hundred high. Steam billowed from its crown.
Only fires lit the scene. Yet with the endowments of sight, smell, and hearing that Myrrima had recently taken, everything seemed preternaturally clear.
Myrrima had taken endowments only yesterday. She could still almost hear the yelps of pain from the pups as they gave their sight and hearing to her.
Myrrima's heart pounded. She wondered if the worm might still be about, but saw no sign of a worm trail. It had retreated into the hole from which it had sprung.
It was hard to comprehend the devastation, to try to imagine the battle that had taken place here. Gaborn had driven his troops to Carris, heeding the Earth's summons, believing that he would find the city besieged by Raj Ahten's troops. Instead he'd found Raj Ahten surrounded by a ghastly horde of reavers, trapped.
He'd used his newfound powers as Earth King to summon a world worm--a beast of legend--from the Earth's core to dislodge the reavers.
The aftermath of that battle would be sung for a thousand years, Myrrima felt sure. The carnage took her breath away.
To the south lay a field of dead reavers, enormous and black in the darkness, their wet carapaces gleaming in the wan light as if they were a plague of dead frogs. Men and women swarmed among them, torches in hand. The plains were terribly broken and uneven, pocked with thousands of burrows. Squads of troops armed with spears and battle-axes were searching every nook for live reavers. But not all of the people out there were warriors. Some were coming from the city to cart off the dead and wounded--mothers looking for sons, children hunting for parents.
A reaver suddenly lunged from a burrow three quarters of a mile away, and out on the plain screams arose with the blaring of warhorns. The reaver charged straight for a knot of footmen. Knights on chargers galloped to intercept the monster.
"By my father's honor," shouted one lord of Orwynne, "there's still reavers about! This battle's not won yet!"
The lords spurred their mounts down to what was left of the Barrens Wall. Beneath its arch, beside a bonfire, a dozen footmen huddled beneath muddy capes with hands wrapped around their longspears.
"Halt!" they called as the lords approached. A couple of guards struggled up. They wore mismatched armor, marking them as Knights Equitable.
Their bright eyes reflected the firelight. Jubilantly their leader shouted, "Most of the reavers are in a rout--fleeing south the way that they came. Skalbairn asks that any man who can bear a lance give chase with him! But there's still a few of the damned things holed up in their burrows, if you've a mind to fight here."
"Skalbairn is chasing the horde in the dark? In the rain?" Sir Hoswell shouted. "Is he mad?"
"The Earth King is with us, and no one can stand against us!" the guard shouted. "If you've ever had a fancy to slay a reaver and win some glory, tonight's the night for it. Some simpleton from Silverdale killed a dozen on the city walls today with nothing more than a pickax. True men like you should do as well--or better." His tone was challenging.
The guard raised a wineskin in salute. Myrrima saw that the man's eyes gleamed from more than mere jubilation. He was half drunk, reveling in the victory. Obviously Skalbairn's men didn't know that Gaborn could no longer warn his Chosen warriors of danger.
Even though they'd been Chosen only a few hours ago, Myrrima could see how these men were already becoming complacent. Why should they keep a close guard so long as the Earth King would warn them of danger?
Obviously, Skalbairn's men hadn't heard the latest. Gaborn had used his abilities to dislodge the reavers from Carris, but in the aftermath of the battle, he'd sought to use his gift to kill Raj Ahten.
For misusing those protective powers, the Earth had withdrawn them--including the ability to warn Gaborn's Chosen warriors of danger.
These men, blithely celebrating their victory, had no idea how much trouble they were in. The Earth had charged Gaborn to help "Save a seed of mankind through the dark times to come." Full night was not yet upon them.
Myrrima glanced right and left at the lords of the Brotherhood of the Wolf--sober men with hard faces. They'd come to fight, but hadn't bargained for such madness.
"I'll warn Paldane's men," Sir Giles of Heredon offered.
"Wait," Myrrima said. "Are you sure that's wise? Who knows where the rumors might fly, how the tale might grow in its travels?"
"The Earth King warned us that he has lost his powers in order save our lives," Baron Tewkes of Orwynne said. "He can't hide the truth, and we can't hide it for him."
If she were to tell Gaborn's secret, Myrrima feared she might betray a man who had never unjustly sought to harm another. Yet if she withheld the news, innocent men would die. To tell was the lesser evil.
Sir Giles took his leave of them and galloped toward Carris.
"The rest of us will need to warn Skalbairn," Tewkes said. He dismounted for a moment, cinched his saddle for a fast ride. Others drew weapons, and more than one man brought out a stone to sharpen a lance or a warhammer.
Myrrima licked her lips. She wouldn't be riding south with the others tonight. Gaborn had said that she would find her wounded husband a third of a mile north of the city, near the great mound. But reavers were still hiding out on the field. She tried not to worry.
"Do you want me to come with you, milady?" a voice asked, startling her. Sir Hoswell's horse had sidled up to her, and he was bending near. "To find your husband? I told you that if you ever need me, I'll be at your back."
She could barely make out his face beneath his hood. Hoswell leaned close, as if expecting her to fall into his arms at the first sight of blood.
Hah! she thought. Maybe when the stars have all burned down to ashes!
He had tried to seduce her once. When she resisted his advances, he'd tried to force her. He'd apologized, but she still didn't trust him, even though she had enough endowments now that she knew he would never try to force her again.
"No," she said. "I'll go alone. Why don't you find some reavers to kill?"
"Very well," Hoswell said. He drew his steel greatbow from its pack, began carefully to unwrap the oiled canvas that protected it from the rain.
"You'll fight with that?" she asked.
Hoswell shrugged. "It's what I use best. A shot to the sweet triangle…"
Myrrima spurred her own mount...