In such a throng, it would have been difficult to spot intruders. They might have hidden among carts or worn disguises.
But the plains were empty now.
Despair saw no armies in the distance. With a dozen endowments of sight taken both from wyrmlings and from the small folk, he would have spotted them across the miles.
Yet alarms blared in Despair s mind. "Death is coming. Tell your chosen one to flee."
At last something caught his eye on the horizon to the south: a flash of red in a shaft of light-the crimson robes of a Knight Eternal.
It was hastening toward the fortress, flying low through the pine trees that ran along the road.
Kryssidia? Lord Despair wondered. What is he doing out?
The Knight Eternal that flew toward the castle had endowments, it was obvious. He was flying at tremendous speed, perhaps two hundred miles per hour, making toward the southern entrances.
"Flee," the Earth Spirit said. "Warn your chosen to flee. Death is coming."
Could it be Kryssidia? Despair wondered. Dismay filled him. If his Knights Eternal were to turn against him…
Then he spotted movement in the distance-too far for the city guard to see. But a handful of warriors was also racing toward Rugassa in the midday sun.
Humans. So, the heroes had come to rescue Fallion.
Death was imminent for the High Council member at the south gate. The Earth Spirit seemed almost to be thundering in his ears. The attackers on the ground were still miles away when the Earth screamed its final warning, and it took a great of amount of discipline for Lord Despair to withhold aid.
So the flier is just the vanguard, Despair realized.
Kryssidia would not be in league with humans.
It is one of them-a human with stolen wings and a Knight Eternal s robes.
"The flier is one of the attackers," Despair told the Darkling Glory. "But others are following."
"The enemy flies swiftly and well," the Darkling Glory said. "I would be honored to fight that one."
Despair smiled.
When death came to the High Councilman, Despair felt a cruel sense of loss, as if his very heart was torn from him. It was the Earth Spirit, punishing him for allowing the murder. Any other man would have crumbled to the floor and wept bitter tears, so overwhelming was the loss.
But Despair simply whispered to the Earth, "Patience, my dear friend, patience. The one who died was a fool, and therefore worthless to me. I repent that I ever chose him. But I have others that I value more."
The Earth did not answer. Despair felt its spirit withdraw, and worried that it might flee him forever.
"We must hurry," Despair said to the Darkling Glory. "I have prepared a most special welcome for our guests."
Talon ran through the forest toward Rugassa, heart pounding, and watched for Rhianna s signal. Talon was still two miles out from the city, probably too far for the wyrmling guards to see. But she felt exposed here. The black volcano rose up from the plains, looming above her. As she drew nearer she could descry thousands of dark holes in the basalt, windows and air vents for the wyrmling labyrinth. And at each one, she knew cruel eyes might be watching.
Rhianna had hardly touched down in the tunnel when her signal came-three bright flashes from a sunstone at the mouth of the tunnel.
She had taken out the guards.
Now the race began in earnest. The Cormar twins led the way, giggling at some private joke, followed next by Daylan Hammer, the Emir Tuul Ra, and last of all by Talon.
Each of them had copious endowments of metabolism; now the Cormar twins sprinted at breakneck speed, matching each other stride for stride, fifty miles per hour, sixty.
They raced under the pines, through the shadows thrown by the midday sun.
Even a wyrmling can t see us yet, Talon thought. The sun is in their eyes, and we are all in shadow.
So she tried to comfort herself with reassurances of her own lack of visibility until at last the comrades exited the woods, passing a great basalt wall some forty feet high, and ran now through barren fields, subject to the scrutiny of any who might be watching.
It was still a mile to the gate, black and yawning ahead.
She waited for some alarm, for surely, she thought, someone is aware of us by now.
"Run faster," Daylan cried.
The less time that we are exposed, Talon thought, the less chance that we will be seen.
At sixty miles per hour it would take nearly a full minute to cross the open plains. Only the greatest stroke of luck would let them make it unseen.
They would have to rely upon their own speed and fighting skills to get them to their destination.
Before she ever reached the gate, a gong sounded. It was a bell more massive than any she d heard before. The tolling of it sent a thrill through the ground.
Twelve seconds later, the company burst into the tunnel and were soon at an iron gate that had been thrown open. Guards lay dead and bloodied, while Rhianna stood over their corpses, a black long sword in hand.
She pocketed her sunstone, waited a heartbeat, then turned and led the way into the fortress.
The Cormar twins charged in at her back. Suddenly both of them cackled and raced to take the lead, sprinting down the corridors in unison, cutting down any wyrmling that stood in their way.
There was no resistance. None of the wyrmlings had endowments as far as Talon could tell. Some had time to register a look of shock. Some warriors even had their hands stray toward a weapon. But the battle was over before it ever began, with the Cormar twins artfully hacking the defenders down, one man swinging high, another low, so that heads and legs came off at the same instant.
It felt too much like murder. Talon could hardly stomach it.
We have that right, Talon told herself, after all that they ve done to us.
Talon was in the rearguard, and as such she kept a lookout behind. But her job, it seemed, consisted mainly of trying not to slip on the trail of blood left by those who blazed the path ahead.
As she ran, she had time to notice the little things-the glow worms grazing on the walls, wyrmling glyphs painted in white to mark the doorways. The air was warm and sultry inside the tunnels, stuffy and filled with the acrid scent of sulfur and the stench of a million wyrmlings. She saw kill holes and spy holes in the walls-and in one she glimpsed an eye, the pure white iris of a wyrmling, gazing back at her in fear.
She had no idea how to reach the creature. Surely some hidden corridor would lead her there, but she did not know which byways to take, or how many turns she might have to pass.
They re watching us, she thought. They know everything that we do. We can only hope that they don t have enough power to do anything but watch.
She lunged toward the spy hole and thrust her blade through before the wyrmling had time to back away or even blink. Her blade slid through the eye socket and clunked as it hit the back of the wyrmling s skull. The blade came out covered in gore.
Talon raced down the tunnel, following her comrades. They had not gone far when she heard a tremendous rattling. She turned and peered back in the gloom. A huge iron portcullis was dropping, gravity bearing it inexorably down. It looked as if it weighed several tons, and the whole tunnel shook. If she had not had endowments, it might have seemed to fall instantly, but with her speed it seemed to take a pair of seconds before it slammed into the ground with finality.
Our exit is blocked. There s no way out!
Her heart raced, but Talon realized that there had to be a path out. She d seen thousands of windows and air holes. Surely there was more than one exit.
No one else seemed to worry. They battled on.
Only once did Talon provide any real help. They were following the scent of sandalwood on Kirissa s trail, but even with endowments of scent, the others could not be sure which way to go.