The Wyrms of &alon

Karl was a whirlwind, a drill rolling between stone and sky.

He raged and whipped and clawed and screamed.

The two serpents chased each other’s tails—and he was one of them.

Black lattice fencing scraped against Karl’s hide as they tossed and turned. Branches snapped, metal crunched. Pressure flicked the spines on his back, pulling up clods of earth whenever they got caught in the soil.

In hindsight, throwing himself into a wrestling match with a body he still didn’t know how to use wasn’t the best idea, but that was to be expected.

Karl knew he wasn’t much good at anything. But he didn’t need to be good. He didn’t need to be skilled.

He just needed to win.

Just this once, he needed to win.

Lifting his arm, Karl belted out a fresh yell as he raked his claws against the Norm’s rust-colored scales. He peeled off whole patches with every strike.

The Norm reared its head and roared. Coiling its tail around Karl, it squeezed him tight, as if to snap him in half. Karl’s human torso dangled out from one end of the Norm’s coils, while his tail thrashed free on the other. Again and again, he raked his claws over the Norm again and again, tearing off more scales, cutting furrows into the thickly corded flesh beneath, but the monster didn’t so much as flinch.

As they tumbled, Karl felt a presence weighing on his mind. It was like a stone on his eyelids, trying to drag him off to sleep.

Was this some kind of enchantment?

No!

Karl roared. He fought the intrusion, remembering his brothers in arms and all that they had done for him.

What Geoffrey had done. They’d shown him support and faith that not even his own flesh and blood had deigned to give him.

And he’d failed them.

But not here. Not now.

The fungus had taken Geoffrey from him. It had robbed him of his first human friend. It had taken away the only real older brother he’d ever known.

Somehow, in his gut, Karl knew what was happening to him. It was the evil that had come to his world.

It was trying to take control of him.

I won’t bend! he thought.

If the evil wanted him, it’d have to break him, first.

Stretching as much as he could, Karl bent his tail somewhere near the middle and lunged forward. But it wasn’t enough, so he pushed off the ground with his claws to thrust himself forward even more, enough to give him the purchase he needed to sink his three-fingered claws into the soil. Then, with a hard squeeze, he pulled, flipping his body upside down in a half-circle turn that slammed the Norm into the ground, stunning it.

The monster huffed out spurts of green clouds, flailing in panic. Its silver eyes blinked and blinked.

And its constrictor grip loosened.

Seizing the moment, Karl wrested himself free of its coils, using muscles in his tail and flanks that he didn’t know he had.

He didn’t know what he was doing, he just knew that it was working.

A barrage of bullets and lancing heat bombarded Karl’s back. He groaned, more annoyed than injured, but there was no time to deal with that.

Whipping himself around, Karl turned around and threw himself onto the Norm, nearly tumbling over his own coils catching.

But he caught it, right as its underbelly faced the sky.

And there it was: a patch of still-human skin, between the monster’s arms.

Karl stabbed his claws into the patch. They slid in like knives through butter. The Norm convulsed, thrashing its head and tail. The fountain of green clouds that spewed out from its many nostrils burned what human flesh Karl still had on him. But the young man endured the pain, gritting his teeth.

He focused on wrapping his lower body around the Norm to keep it still.

He didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

Once more, even stronger than before, Karl felt that insidious weight press on his mind. The evil was trying to seize his mind, just like the zombies.

“You won’t take me!” he screamed.

Then Karl slid his claw down, all the way to the base of the Norm’s soft patch.

Suddenly, the tension in the Norm’s body changed. It writhed against itself as much as against Karl’s coil. It roared, thrashing its head from side to side. Its silver eyes flickered rapidly, flashing between silver and gold. The sight startled Karl, creating an opening.

With a mighty buck, the Norm flicked Karl away, sending him rolling onto his side. He quickly righted himself.

In between the streams of bullets, Karl saw the lines of red light, blisteringly hot.

They set fire to whatever they touched. These were far thicker than ones he’d seen before.

They were coming from large artillery, mounted on the backs of the military’s squat vehicles.

Turning, Karl saw the Norm was clutching its head in its claws, shaking it left and right while its eyes flickered between silver and gold.

It’s fighting back… Karl thought, stunned. Angel’s mercy…

Did that mean there was good in them? In the demons?

By the Godhead…

It was cruel beyond words. People—Norms or not—fighting one another; fighting against themselves.

Raising his head, Karl saw other changelings like himself fighting others of their kind. They went so far as to rip the sorcerers to pieces, just to stop them from hurting anyone. One of them—a serpentine figure—ambled toward the red-beam vehicles and the red-beam soldiers dressed in white at their sides, his arms spread wide. There was still enough human in him for Karl to recognize the Zidian features in his face.

This Norm was taking fire to protect the innocent.

Lost, and confused—a roaring Norm behind him trying to claw the silver madness out of its brain—Karl’s sorrow and rage spilled over the walls of his terror. Conviction burned in him like lightning. It blossomed from his chest, spreading outward to his tips—a knotted melody, yearning to break free.

“Stop it!” he screamed. “Stop it! Stop it!!”

And break free it did.

A wave shot out of his body—a vast, ever-widening sphere, seen only through how it cast up what it caught in its wake.

Time seemed to slow.

The unseen sphere whisked away everything in its path as it blasted across the courtyard, overturning vehicles, knocking people to the ground, picking up shed tents, toppled tables, and broken boughs and flicking them onto the walls.

Even the Norm was knocked to the ground.

Time quickened.

Karl looked around in confusion just long enough to see the Norm’s eyes go solid silver. Turning its head, it contracted its body like a spring, and then launched into the sky, soaring out of sight.

Raising its head, it sang. The air reverberated with its alien lament; a dirge of many voices, sung through the holes in the Norm’s snout. And for a moment, everyone just looked up and stared.

And then—tired, hungry, and drained—his tail sprawled out behind him, Karl fell onto his hands and wept.