At the darkest corner of night, Rytlock returned to the camp to wake up Logan.
“You’re quite a pair,” came a nearby voice, accompanied by the rasp of a socket wrench.
“Hm?” Rytlock turned to see Snaff straddling the leg of the golem and working by the faint blue glow of a powerstone.
“You and Logan,” Snaff replied, flashing a smile. He turned back to the conduits he was repairing. “After all this time, a charr and a human make peace.”
“Ha!” Rytlock blurted, but then glanced toward the sleepers. He went on more quietly, “It’s not peace. More like mutually assured destruction.”
Snaff laughed. “Ah, it’s more than that. He idolizes you.”
“He covets my sword. It’s not the same.”
“Oh, it is the same. What little brother doesn’t want what his big brother has?”
“And what big brother doesn’t hate his little brother for wanting it?”
Snaff nodded. “Yes. I suppose that’s part of the dynamic. Love and hate hand in hand. Apprentices feel the same way toward masters—love them for all the knowledge they have, and hate them for the same reason.”
Rytlock glanced over at Zojja. “Nah. You’re her whole world. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Funny how that works,” Snaff said philosophically. “People become part of you, and you don’t realize until they’re gone.”
“Right. Listen, uh, my watch is over and Logan’s up next.”
“Good, good. He’ll be good company.”
By the next morning, Rytlock, Logan, and Eir had each taken a watch while Snaff worked on. Soldering and shaping, rewiring and refitting—by the time he was done, Big Zojja had been resurrected. She stood at the edge of the camp, dented and dinged but ready for action.
Eir gazed soberly at the result. “You’ve worked a miracle.”
“That’s what I do,” Snaff said with a smile.
Zojja rubbed sleep from her eyes. “Too bad the other one couldn’t be salvaged.”
Snaff’s smile never wavered. “That’s all right. We brought a spare.”
“A spare?”
Snaff donned a powerstone laurel, and with a boom and a hiss, the tarp on the wagon bulged up and rose. The canvas dragged away to reveal the sand golem, towering there and grinning like his master.
“That’s why the wagon was so heavy,” Rytlock groaned. “Least we won’t have to drag it any farther.”
“Exactly.”
Eir looked around at her crew—Big Zojja and Sandy, Little Zojja and Snaff, Garm, Caithe, Rytlock, and Logan. “All right, everyone, we have a long hike today, and a tough battle ahead. We have water and food for two more days. Beyond that, we’ll have to live off the land.”
“Oh, there’s one more thing we need,” Snaff broke in, fishing in his pocket. Behind him, Sandy seemed to do the same. Snorting, Snaff pulled off the powerstone laurel, letting the golem slump in a heap in the wagon. Snaff then pulled from his pocket a vial of gray dye. “We need tattoos.”
“Tattoos?” Eir asked.
“As you know, the Dragonspawn has a mesmerizing aura that takes hold of minds. Last time, we combated it with gray powerstones on our armor—but if the stone gets struck from the armor, the result could be fatal.”
Eir nodded, trying to follow the thread. “Yes, but—tattoos?”
“Powerstones in our skin!” Snaff enthused, holding up the vial. Tiny stone chips shimmered within the dye. “They’ll block the mind of the Dragonspawn.” He pulled back his tunic, showing a beautifully inscribed emblem that read de. “That for us, Destiny’s Edge, you know? Zojja has one, too. Show them.”
Zojja huffed and pulled back her collar, revealing the same de pattern in a slightly less deft hand.
“I did hers, and she did mine. Give us half an hour, and we’ll have the rest of you done.”
Reluctantly, the others agreed. Snaff inscribed the emblem onto Logan, then shaved a clear patch on Rytlock and Garm and did the same. Zojja took a bit more time and care to work on the shoulders of Eir and Caithe. In the promised half hour, though, the deed was done.
“Here,” Snaff said, slipping the vial of gray dye into Eir’s hand. “I’m always breaking things.”
Eir took a long look at the vial, and an uncommon smile spread across her face. “I know just what to do with this.” She slid the vial into her pocket. “Let’s move out.”
Claws, boots, bolts, and sandy pseudopods set out across the tundra, heading for the icy peaks in the north. They walked in a loose group, Caithe scouting ahead and Garm loping behind. Zojja rode within her golem, and Snaff rode atop Sandy’s head.
The party moved at speed, and the land rolled back around them.
In time, Rytlock and Logan happened to be walking side by side. Neither wanted to fall back, and neither could casually stride ahead. As the awkward silence stretched, Logan at last ventured, “Listen. I know things haven’t been right, not since I tried to take Sohothin.”
The charr’s hand settled on the hilt of his sword. “You’d better not try again.”
“No. That’s the whole thing. I never should have tried to take it. Sohothin is your sword. I see that now.”
Rytlock looked Logan in the eye for the first time in weeks. “Really?”
“Really.”
“You don’t mind seeing a charr carry a ‘man’s sword’?”
“It’s not a man’s sword. It’s a hero’s sword. It’s yours.”
They walked a while longer in silence. Rytlock caught sight of Snaff, who just smiled back at him.
“It’s going to be bad, you know,” Rytlock said.
“Yeah,” Logan said. “Worse than any gladiatorial team. Worse than destroyers or devourers or ogres.”
Rytlock nodded. “Well, I’ve gone into a lot of battles with a lot of good warriors. You’re as good as any of them.”
“Thanks.”
“The one thing they had that you don’t—”
“Oh, here it comes.”
“—is a Blood Legion pendant.” Rytlock drew a chain from around his neck. On it hung the maroon and silver crest of the Blood Legion. “Here. Put it on.”
Logan took the pendant and looked Rytlock in the eye. “I don’t know what to say.”
Rytlock gritted his teeth. “Damned human. You don’t have to say anything. Just put it on.”
“Thanks,” Logan replied feebly, slipping the pendant around his neck.
“It’s an honor wearing that thing, you know,” Rytlock said, “an honor I don’t think any other human has ever been given. It means we’re brothers.”
Logan flashed him a smile. “Oh, you’re much better than my brother.”
“I know,” Rytlock replied with a laugh. “I’ve seen your brother.”
Logan nodded, tucking the pendant between his breastplate and his chest. “Thanks. I want you to have something, too.”
“What is it?”
Logan untied the silken scarf that Queen Jennah had given him. “You saw the day I got this.”
“Yeah,” Rytlock said heavily. “You killed Racogorrix that day.”
“I fought for the queen that day.” Logan handed the scarf to Rytlock. “You know how much she means to me, but I want you to have this.”
The charr lifted his claws away. “I can’t take that.”
“Damned charr! Don’t you know how to receive a gift?”
Reluctantly, Rytlock took the emblem from his friend’s hand. He looked for a place to tie it—armor? hackle? horn? At last, he tied it to his sword belt. “Thank you.” He looked around, seeing the rest of the group stare at him. Clapping his claws together, he said, “All right now. How much longer to this lair? I’m ready to kill a Dragonspawn.”
INTO THE LAIR
Eir and her companions stood atop a frozen ridge and gazed down at the lair of the Dragonspawn. The wide cave mouth was fronted by rows of jagged ice, standing like fangs or horns in terrible clusters.
“You never told us a
bout that,” Rytlock pointed out. He patted the hilt of Sohothin. “Lucky for us, I brought an ice cutter.”
Eir shook her head. “We can’t go through it. It’ll be filled with icebrood. We’ll have to go over it.”
Rytlock turned to her quizzically.
She smiled and said, “Avalanche.”
Logan frowned. “Conditions have to be just right.”
“He should know,” Rytlock snarled in remembrance. “Guy specializes in rockslides.” Under his breath, he added, “Jerk.”
“I think we have exactly the right conditions,” Eir said cryptically.
Just then, Big Zojja pounded up behind the others, her footfalls cracking the ice they stood on. From the cockpit within, Little Zojja piped up, “Right conditions for what?”
The ground trembled again as Sandy thundered to the top of the ridge.
“What’d I miss?” asked Snaff, who stomped to a halt between Sandy’s ears. “Sorry I lagged a bit. Set off a little avalanche back there.”
Eir’s smile broadened. “I brought along a pair of avalanche machines.”
Caithe gestured along the rim of the valley, where a thick snowpack clung. “That ridge ahead should do the trick.”
“Perfect,” Eir said.
“Perfect for what?” Snaff and Zojja chorused.
Eir reached up to Sandy’s head and lowered Snaff to the ground. “Can Zojja drive that thing from a distance?”
“Sure,” Snaff said, “as long as she has the laurel.”
“Come on out, Zojja,” Eir commanded.
The windscreen on the cockpit cranked open, and after buckles clanged loose, Zojja emerged and climbed down the golem’s leg. “What do you want?”
Eir said, “I want you and Snaff to march your golems on ahead to trigger an avalanche—one that’ll sweep down over those defense works and bury them.”
Snaff’s eyes lit. “That’ll be fun!” He began pumping his arms and stomping his feet, and Sandy marched excitedly away across the ridge.
Zojja glowered like a teenager watching her father dance. “You’re enjoying this too much.” Reluctantly she began marching as well, and Big Zojja pounded out after Sandy.
The two golems had crossed about a quarter mile of icy ridge before anything happened—but it happened all at once.
A thunderous boom! shook the ice, and a crack shot like black lightning along the ridge. The whole face of the ridge broke free. It slid down as one thick ice sheet, grating over the cliff face. A network of cracks raced through the ice, and it shattered into huge boulders. They stampeded down the side of the mountain and swarmed over the labyrinth. House-size ice chunks flattened the defensive works. Walls smashed and spikes shattered. Whatever icebrood might have lurked in those defenses were crushed. Hundreds of thousands of tons of ice wiped the barriers from the world.
“Perfect!” Rytlock said.
“Not quite,” Eir replied, pointing toward the ridge.
Sandy had had one foot on either side of the crack when it gave way, and now the sand golem was struggling not to tumble down the slope. Already, its legs had stretched to twice their usual length. Big Zojja grasped Sandy’s hand and tried to pull it back up.
“It’s no good!” Snaff yelled. “Let go!”
“Too late,” Zojja replied.
In the distance, Sandy toppled, dragging Big Zojja after it. They rolled together down the ice-ravaged rock face.
Little Zojja shook with each impact, eyes glazing.
Snaff grasped her. “Separate your mind!”
Down below, Sandy’s head crashed into an outcrop of stone.
Snaff staggered, “Wow! That smarts.”
Out across the ice field rolled Sandy and Big Zojja, clinging together like a giant, dirty snowball. They held each other a moment more before limbs of sand broke away from limbs of steel. A battered and gritty Big Zojja staggered back and toppled to the ground while Sandy shuddered as it reformed itself.
Meanwhile, on the ridge, Snaff released Zojja. “Are you all right?”
“Feel like I got run through a gearbox,” Zojja said.
“Do you need to rest?” Eir asked them.
“Not me,” Zojja replied huffily, “but I’d say the Big me is out of service.”
They all stared down at the tableau, where Big Zojja lay twisted with smoke rising from her joints.
“That’s not good,” Eir said.
“Sandy’s fine,” Snaff put in hopefully, seeming to check his pockets.
The sand golem was meanwhile reshaping itself. It gave a massive wave.
Eir reached down and hoisted Zojja to her shoulders. “Phase One is complete, but we’re down to a single golem. Someone grab Snaff. Let’s move!”
Rytlock picked up Snaff, slung him onto his shoulders, and growled, “Don’t touch the horns.”
The asura sheepishly released them. “Sorry. They look like handlebars.”
“I don’t need to be steered,” Rytlock said.
“Can’t steer a steer,” Snaff quipped.
“Shut up.”
“Right.”
Rytlock ran after Eir, with Logan and Caithe following. Garm brought up the rear, his black head turning from side to side to make sure they weren’t followed.
Moments later, the group reached Big Zojja. She was, indeed, beyond repair. One leg was shattered outright, and the conduits had been ripped from the knee of the other.
Zojja leaped down from Eir’s shoulder. “That’s a wasted night.” She turned to Snaff. “I told you you put too much trust in metal.”
Snaff was too grieved to reply.
Eir scowled at Zojja. “You seem almost gleeful that the golem is wrecked.”
Zojja grinned. “I almost am.”
Eir huffed. “Good luck fighting without it.”
“I’ve been expanding my portfolio of spells for this,” Zojja said with a grin. “Fire spells. You’ll see how magic can trump machine.”
“I hope,” Eir said, watching Zojja march jauntily away.
Snaff stepped up beside Eir. “You must forgive her. She’s a genius in the rough.”
“She won’t follow orders, she won’t listen to others,” Eir muttered.
“You’re both strong-willed,” Caithe broke in. “You’re not followers.”
Eir and Snaff gaped at her.
Caithe was wide-eyed. “Well, look, she’s leading the charge.”
They turned to see that Zojja had broken into a run.
“Let’s go,” Eir said ruefully, turning and charging after her. All the others followed. It took only a few moments for them to catch up to Zojja and pass her.
The group ran to the ice cave. It yawned darkly before them, a thousand icicles hanging overhead.
“Wouldn’t like to get one of those down the back,” Rytlock said.
“Rytlock and Logan, you’ll take the fore,” Eir said. “Garm and I will back you up. Sandy will back us up and give cover for Snaff and Zojja. Caithe, you’re the rear guard. Weapons, everyone.”
The group shifted into position. Sohothin roared from its scabbard, and Logan’s war hammer spun in circles around him. Zojja cracked her knuckles and sent flames leaping into the air, while Sandy remolded one stretched-out leg. Behind them, Caithe scanned the rubble field, her daggers whirling.
Eir nocked three arrows. Their heads sparked with arcane energies prepared by Zojja.
Rytlock eyed the arrows. “More nets?”
“You’ll see.” Eir drew the bow until the string pinged with tension and then let fly. The three shafts whistled away into the cave, diverging from each other. Simultaneously, the arrowheads burst into three red fireballs. As they flew, the flames intensified to orange and yellow and white and blue.
They lit up a ceiling crowded with giant icicles. Among them lurked dragon minions in the form of ice bats.
“Whoa!” Rytlock said.
Another explosion came from each arrow. Shock waves cracked the icicles loose, and blue flames melted the wings of
the bats. Giant icicles and watery bats plunged, crashing side by side on the icy floor of the cavern.
“Awesome,” Logan said.
“Phase Two complete,” Eir noted, then shouted, “Charge!”
Logan and Rytlock broke into a run, leading the rest into the ice cave. Ahead lay shattered icicles and bats flailing in their death throes. The flaming sword and the war hammer ended their torments.
As they ran on, Rytlock called over his shoulder, “What’s ahead?”
Eir replied. “More dragon minions. They might be transformed norn, or more ice bats. I expect something much bigger, though. Stay sharp.”
The team passed beyond the killing fields, rushing down a smooth throat of ice into a deeper, darker chamber. Eir fitted another shaft to her bow and let fly. The flaming comet soared through a deep, broad ice cavern with a smooth ceiling. There were no icicles, no lurking bats—only a colonnade of frozen pillars lining either wall.
“It doesn’t feel right,” Logan said.
Rytlock barked a laugh. “Course not. It’s a monster’s lair.”
Together, they ran down the center of the chamber, between the pillars of ice.
A groan echoed up the cavern, as if the glacier itself moaned in pain. The floor shook beneath their feet.
A splintering sound came from a pillar to one side of Rytlock. He swung his flaming sword toward it, seeing the shaft pull free from the wall.
It wasn’t ice, but an icy giant.
It lunged toward Rytlock, hurling a mace at him. He ducked, but the icy spikes bashed one shoulder. “Damn!” he growled. “It would have been nice to know about these!”
Eir nocked another shaft and loosed it, point-blank.
The arrow cracked into the ice giant’s chest and exploded in its transparent heart. Red flame evolved to orange and yellow, melting ribs. The fire turned white and beamed from the giant’s astonished eyes. Then the wretched figure toppled.
Eir scrambled back as the massive warrior struck ground. It burst open, its melted heart gushing across the ice.
“Help!” shouted Logan from across the chamber.
Eir and Rytlock looked, seeing that he had been snatched up by another frozen giant. The thing had lost an arm, which lay in shattered ruins on the floor, but its other arm hoisted Logan toward a mouth that bristled with fangs.
Edge of Destiny Page 17
