Worldbinder

A MEETING OF THE MINDS

Horns blared throughout Luciare, clear horns as piercing as the cold of a mid-winter’s night, horns that told a tale of wyrmlings toiling up the slopes of the mountain.

Alun raced down the hallways to the lower levels. As he did, he heard shouts. “Warlord Madoc has returned! He stopped the wyrmlings at Cantular!”

Alun could hardly believe the good news.

The city was shut. Huge slabs of rock had been brought to seal every portico, every window. Through the hard work of thousands, the city’s defenses had been repaired in only a day. From outside, the stones fit so cleanly that it would be hard even to tell where the openings had been.

Inside the castle, light and life were everywhere. Children had been put to work lighting extra thumb-lanterns and placing them in the lower corridors where the wyrmlings would first enter. The stark white walls reflected the light, making the halls almost as light as day.

Flowers were strewn upon the floor, fresh leaves of rose and lavender and pennyroyal, so that a sweet scent filled the city. With each step, Alun perfumed the halls, and seeds were strewn beside the flowers-poppy and bean, wheat and rye.

It made the footing all that more treacherous.

Alun gained the lowest levels and had to fight his way past warriors in order to reach the portal.

Outside Warlord Madoc and his sons could be seen marching up the city streets now, capes flapping behind them, faces grim, only moments ahead of the wyrmling hordes. Crowds of warriors cheered them as triumphant heroes. Alun could see the wyrmlings racing up the mountain road, just moments behind, but Madoc was safely within the city walls.

Last of all among the returning heroes, came the Emir of Dalharristan, head lowered in humility. There were so few troops returning, Alun saw, that this could not really be celebrated as a victory.

“Ten thousand wyrmlings they slew!” someone shouted. “They died on the bridge of Cantular.”

Madoc trudged up to the main gate and made to pass Alun. “Milord,” Alun begged, “if I may have a moment?”

Madoc glared. “Is it important?”

“I have news that you should hear,” Alun suggested, “before you see the king.”

Madoc considered a moment, as if nothing that Alun could say would be more urgent than his own report to the king. Then he grabbed Alun by the sleeve and ushered him from the hall into the first living chamber that they reached. It had been a stately room for some merchant who did not want to travel far to get into the city. It was spacious and elegantly appointed. Now it was empty, the valuables hastily removed, the merchant having fled to higher-and presumably safer-quarters.

“What is so important?” Madoc demanded as he closed the door.

“High King Urstone tried to exchange Princess Kan-hazur for his son, and the wyrmlings cheated him. They took the princess, and gave nothing in return.”

“The king was a fool,” Madoc said. “Still, we can take comfort in one thing-the princess will not live out the week.”

“What do you mean?”

Madoc smiled. “My men have been poisoning her food with shavings of red-wort root for years. It will not harm her until she stops eating it.”

Alun considered. He wasn’t sure that his people could survive the night. But if they did, what would happen once Emperor Zul-torac discovered this act of treachery?

He’ll hunt us down to the very last woman and child, Alun thought. Between Urstone’s folly and Madoc’s treachery, we are doomed.

What had Daylan said? Hadn’t he said that there was but a hair’s difference between the wyrmlings and mankind? Madoc seemed little better than Zul-torac at that moment.

So much evil in the world comes upon us from poor leaders, Alun thought. Why was it my fate to be caught between these two?

We suffer them, he realized. We, the people, suffer them. We forgive their stupidity and their small-mindedness. We follow them into battles that should not be. We accept their flattery and petty bribes-when we would be better off to sweep them away, like flies from our dinner table.

“So,” Madoc said. “What do the people think of this debacle?”

Alun tried to think fast. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to support Warlord Madoc anymore. But Alun had the habit of telling the truth, and it came easiest to his lips. “There are many who blame him for this attack, saying that he sold his kingdom for a dream. There are those who believe he should be removed from the throne!”

The words of treason came to his tongue, yet his heart was not in it. He almost felt as if he stood outside himself, listening to someone else speak.

“Are any of his own warriors saying it?” Madoc asked.

“Some,” Alun admitted. “Still, the king has strong supporters, and there are those that love him. It would be foolish to come out openly against him.

“There is something more,” Alun said. “The king has shown favor to Fallion Orden, the wizard who merged our two worlds. He plans to do it again, binding many worlds into one. If he does, many people, folks like me who had no shadow self upon the other world, will simply die.”

Madoc seemed to consider this for a long moment.

“Our young wizard must also be stopped,” Madoc said. Madoc looked thoughtful. Alun could see plans of murder circling in his skull. He looked hopefully at Alun, as if wondering if Alun could be trusted to do the wizard, but then thought better of it. He smiled at Alun, a reassuring smile, the smile of a killer who meant to do his business.

“You have done well, my friend. When my kingdom comes, you will have a high place among my counselors.”

At the sudden blare of trumpets, Madoc whirled and left the room.

Alun felt sure that he didn’t want to see Madoc reign. The people needed someone of greater wisdom and compassion. But Alun could use the man. He could make Madoc a tool, use him to get rid of Fallion Orden.

But it wasn’t Fallion that Alun was worried about at the moment. It wasn’t even Warlord Madoc or King Urstone. No, there was a far more pressing danger. Outside, distant cries and the crashing of weapons against shields announced the advance of the wyrmling horde.