"Do not worry," Despair said at last. "There is no harm done."
"The girl could pose a danger," Vulgnash objected. "She is a powerful Runelord. She could gather an army and return."
"If she does," Despair said, "we shall have another chance to catch her. Won t we?"
Vulgnash looked up, thoughtful.
Despair assured him, "She will not attack soon-not today or tomorrow or the day after. Of that I am certain. She fears us."
"But…" Vulgnash said. "This one has taken many endowments."
"Of course," Despair said. "And she will try to get more-which means that it is all the more important that we secure our ore at Caer Luciare. Right now, that is my greatest concern. The Fang Guards there have rebelled, and now refuse to send me forcibles. I want you to punish them, with finality."
"I will leave at dusk," Vulgnash promised.
"I have a better idea. Do you have any more forcibles?"
Vulgnash had been toying with them in his cell while he guarded Fallion, creating new designs for his master. It was he who had devised the rune of compassion. "A handful is all."
"Make a pair of forcibles with a rune of sight. Then force the small folk to grant endowments to you and Kryssidia."
"My lord?" Vulgnash asked.
"The small folk see well in full sun. I had a facilitator do a test while you were hunting. Once a human gives an endowment of sight, our wyrmlings will be able to abide the daylight." Vulgnash smiled, his huge canines showing.
"Thank you, master," Vulgnash said. But he did not leave. Instead he dropped to one knee. "There is another matter…"
"Which is?"
"While following the girl, we saw reavers, a great throng of them. They are a little more than two hundred miles from the fortress. If they stay their course, they could reach us tonight."
"They pose no threat," Despair said. "Most likely they will turn aside. The Earth gives me no warning." He was growing tired of worrying. "Go to the dungeons before you leave, and make certain that our prisoners are secure, one last time."
"Very well," Vulgnash said.
The Knight Eternal rose from his knee and went stalking from the room, his wings raised more proudly. That left only the Darkling Glory there before the throne.
"Well now, my friend," Despair said, "let us go and have some dinner, and we shall consider how best to conquer a million million shadow worlds."
21
All men should strive to be cunning and strong. The Great Wyrm will take vengeance upon those who prove to be weak and foolish.
Vulgnash felt a peculiar craving. The dead are not subject to most human passions, at least not to the same degree as humans. Hunger they feel as a primal craving for life force, one that makes every cell in their bodies ache with need, much as a choking man burns with need for air. But there is little place in them for lust, or vanity, or compassion.
So this craving annoyed him. It was an ache for vengeance. The human woman had escaped him, had shown him to be weak in front of Lord Despair.
Vulgnash had seen his lord s displeasure.
The dungeons again, he thought, as he climbed down the winding stone stairs. I will be forever in the dungeons.
He yearned to be off on some more dangerous assignment. Watching over the Wizard Fallion had its dangers, it was true, but Fallion posed little threat.
Vulgnash went to the dungeons, found Fallion there. The floor was rimed with frost, and now snow fans were forming on the bars and walls. Fallion was out cold. Sound asleep, nearly comatose.
The rest of the prisoners were much the same. Talon lay still, barely breathing. The wyrmling girl appeared to be dead. Daylan Hammer s breathing was equally shallow. Only the emir seemed to be breathing heavily, and he groaned in his sleep as if at a nightmare.
Vulgnash tried rattling the doors. They were solid iron and each weighed a thousand pounds. He could not move them. The locks were secure.
Vulgnash paid one last call upon the Wizard Fallion.
He was firmly chained by a leg to the wall.
Vulgnash decided to have some fun with him. He took a cot from another cell, and took some old rope, then bound Fallion s arms and legs so tightly that it would cut off the circulation.
Then he dragged a cot into the cell, laid Fallion upon it faceup, and held Fallion s head back so that he could not see his own body.
He gave Fallion just enough heat to warm him so that he began to revive. Fallion came awake, regaining consciousness in fits and starts, so that he muttered and shook, trying to rouse himself.
When consciousness reached him, Fallion simply lay there on the cot with growing horror on his face. He struggled and tried to move his arms and feet, but could get no feeling.
Vulgnash knew what he was thinking. Dozens of his Dedicates had been mutilated, their arms and legs removed, and Fallion could not tell if he had any appendages.
"Fool," Vulgnash hissed. "Without arms or legs, you look like a worm. Squirm for me. Squirm for your master."
"No, please!" Fallion called, trying to wriggle, trying to see if he had arms.
Vulgnash merely set a foot upon his forehead and held his head back so that he could not see.
"You thanked my master for letting you feel the pain of his subjects. So as your reward, he has cut the arms and legs off of thousands of them, and he has let you feel their pain. Would you like to see them?"
Suddenly Fallion lashed out with his senses, tried to pull heat from the walls of the cell. But the stone was cold and held almost no heat at all. Fallion s was a pitiful attempt at escape.
Vulgnash pulled the heat from Fallion once again, sent him deep into a swoon.
That should hold him for a few more hours, Vulgnash thought. And he will dream…
Vulgnash stalked out of the dungeon, found Kryssidia, and took his last four forcibles to the chief facilitator. It did not take fifteen minutes for the facilitator to round up some small folk and rip the sight from two of them. The effect at first seemed minimal. He could not see any better in the darkness, but now the glow worms on the wall gave off a color he d never seen-a dim green.
With the last two forcibles, Vulgnash took more endowments of metabolism, and told Kryssidia to meet him in his chambers.
Quickly Vulgnash raced up through the tunnels, climbing the stairs, like a caterpillar winding its way up a twig, until he reached his own spartan quarters, where his crypt lay.
The sun was dying on the horizon, a bloody thing dropping toward its grave. Red clouds scudded along the sky line, promising a coming storm.
For the first time in his life, Vulgnash looked out upon a world of color-blues and purples in the sky, grays and tans and greens in the forests.
So this is what a human sees, he thought in wonder.
The endowment had worked well enough. The daylight annoyed him, but it did not hurt as much now. It was bright enough so that the idea of flying repelled him, but darkness would be here soon.
He went to his closet, got a fresh red robe, and strapped on a sharpened long sword as black as obsidian.
He halted for a moment near the door to his own parapet and glanced longingly at his own tomb.
Ah, he thought, to sleep, perchance to dream.
Vulgnash felt at peace. Torturing Fallion had salved his wounds, fed some of his need for vengeance.
But more than that, he felt secure knowing that he would be going into battle with Despair at his side.
As a Knight Eternal, Vulgnash had never been truly alive. He had no soul, and could not harbor or feed a locus. Thus, there was no way that he could communicate across the leagues with Despair, as the Death Lords did.