Edge of Destiny

by J. Robert King

  Zojja rushed up to the creature and set her hands on its leg. An orange curtain of flame blazed from her fingertips and ripped through the leg. The flame split the icy limb and sent steam blasting from it. Falling back, Zojja slapped hands on the other leg and blasted it, too. The thighs of the giant slid outward over the calves and cracked, dropping the torso. It struck ground and shattered. Cracks raced up it, and blocks of ice dropped loose. The fangs that were just then biting down on Logan disintegrated, and the thing came apart around him.

  Buried to his chest in chunks, Logan said, “Nice job, little one.”

  “Little one!” Zojja seethed.

  “You’d rather be big? Like Eir?”

  “No,” Zojja grumped. “Little is fine.”

  They turned to see that their teammates had the other giants well in hand. Sandy was pummeling the next two, and Caithe had scrambled up the back of a third. As it thrashed, she plunged her dagger into the seam at its neck and twisted. The neck cracked. The head slid off its massive shoulders and plunged face-first to crash on the floor. Bits of giant skull skittered out all around.

  Eir, meanwhile, loosed shaft after shaft at the remaining giants.

  Boom! Boom! Boom! They fell.

  Suddenly, there was only silence in that deep, dark place.

  “Onward!” Eir called.

  Leaping over melted monsters, the companions formed up again and charged deeper.

  “Ahead is the inner sanctum,” Eir called out to them. “The Dragonspawn will be there.”

  They ran onward a thousand more paces before they reached the end of the chamber.

  And it ended abruptly.

  The team stopped atop a cliff that overlooked a deep, dark chamber. They couldn’t see the bottom, but the space was far from empty.

  A guttural roar erupted from it—a mob incensed at the sight of invaders.

  “The inner sanctum,” Eir said. She raised her bow and shot an arrow into the chamber. It flared, showing a mob of norn warriors—or once-norn.

  None retained a fleshly body. All now were made of ice and stone. Some had great spiked clubs for hands. Others had frozen plates jutting from their backs. Still more had monstrous faces stretched by forests of icy fangs. The arrow flew past them, showing perhaps five hundred before it struck the far wall and exploded.

  “What in the Foefire are those things?” Rytlock wondered.

  “Icebrood. Hundreds of years old, corrupted by the Dragonspawn. We’ll take this battle to them.”

  “Phase Three?” Rytlock guessed.

  “Phase Three,” Eir said. “Snaff, stay up here and control Sandy. Caithe, stay here as well and guard him.”

  “Yes,” the sylvari agreed.

  “What are we doing?” Rytlock asked.

  “You, Logan, Zojja, Garm, and Sandy are going down with me to fight them, to draw out the Dragonspawn.” Turning, Eir nocked three shafts and sent them down into the cavern. Three more arrows followed, and three more before the first volley struck the floor. The arrowheads exploded, blasting apart their foes and clearing a patch at the cliff’s base.

  Eir slung her arm over Sandy and said to Logan and Zojja, “Climb on.”

  They did.

  “Sandy, give our charr friend a ride,” Eir commanded.

  The sand golem grasped Rytlock and slung him up to piggyback.

  “Take us down,” Eir ordered.

  The golem bounded from the cliff’s edge and plunged. On the way down, Eir loosed six more shafts, tearing holes in the enemy army.

  Sandy landed at the base of the cliff, legs flexing to take the impact. Eir, Logan, Rytlock, and Zojja rolled free and scrambled to their feet. Garm landed heavily beside them.

  “Charge!” Eir shouted, sending arrows ahead of them. Explosions cleared the way.

  Behind her came Sandy, marching over the icebrood. Giant feet crushed the ice minions, and giant hands smashed them. The few icebrood that evaded Sandy ran headlong into the charr, the man, the asura, and the dire wolf.

  “At last, real combat!” Rytlock roared.

  He reared back as a frozen sword glanced off his armor. Lunging, he rammed Sohothin through the body of an ice monster. The creature split, shards sliding past each other to splash on the ground. Rytlock spun around and seared the head off another warrior.

  Logan meanwhile traded blows with one of the icebrood. Its ice axe rang against his breastplate, but his war hammer cracked against its knee. The warrior toppled to its back. Logan leaped on it and emptied its head with his maul.

  He jumped back and flung his hand out. His fingers smeared blue aura in the air, solidifying it in a shield before Zojja. The icebrood pounded up to the shield but couldn’t reach the asura apprentice.

  Zojja sent gouts of flame bursting from her hands and melted the monsters all around.

  Garm bulled through ranks, smashing them down to break on the icy ground.

  Shattered shards, broken bodies, steaming pools—the comrades flattened the icebrood.

  But then a blue-white light erupted in the center of the chamber. It emerged from the icy floor and pierced the ceiling and cast all in its horrid glow. Out of that shaft, a figure took shape. Its crystalline back was hunched and spiky, and spiraling energies infused its frigid frame.

  “The Dragonspawn!” Eir cried, halting her team.

  Even the icebrood fell back from that horrid presence.

  The Dragonspawn’s eye sockets beamed a wicked blue light across them all, and its icicle fingers weaved strange magics in the air. It spoke in a voice like ice grating on stone. So, you have killed a hundred of my warriors?

  It was hard to reply, hard to scrape words together. The shaman’s mind was filling the chamber, infusing every mind with its aura. Only the tattoos kept the companions’ minds from being taken over entirely.

  At last, Rytlock managed a few words: “We’ve killed . . . half your army.”

  A deep moan came, a sound of infinite misery that evolved into a drone of delight. Not half. Not one-tenth! The Dragonspawn flung out its algid arms, and purple light jagged from its fingertips.

  The walls of the cavern shattered, tumbling to the floor to reveal more of the icebrood. Rank on rank, the dragon minions stretched into the unseeable distance.

  Your sandman and your tiny band cannot kill them all. Nor will you kill me. Instead, I will make you my own.

  Eir closed her eyes, fighting against the Dragonspawn’s aura. She mustered the words “You have no power over us.”

  So many have said that, the shaman replied, and have been wrong. It beckoned to its troops. Come to me!

  Thousands of icy feet pounded the ground. The icebrood converged on Eir and her companions.

  “We must escape,” Logan muttered, fear creeping up his spine.

  “Sandy can get us out,” Rytlock added.

  Eir shook her head. “That’s the Dragonspawn talking.”

  Rytlock said, “Your plan has failed.”

  “Not yet.” Eir pulled another exploding arrow from her quiver.

  “What are you going to do?” Rytlock raged.

  Eir drew the gray vial from her pocket. “Adapt the plan.” She rammed the vial into the explosive head and said, “Phase Four.” Eir aimed at the Dragonspawn and launched the shaft.

  The arrow whined through the air and crashed into the shaman’s icy chest. It exploded. A fireball engulfed the Dragonspawn, embedding tiny gray powerstones all across its figure. The shaman’s mesmeric mind, which once filled the cavern and drowned out all other minds, suddenly imploded.

  The mental onslaught ceased.

  Eir and the others could think again.

  The Dragonspawn was cut off from every mind in the chamber—cut off even from the mind of its master.

  The marching armies faltered. A thousand ice warriors halted. They had obeyed the Dragonspawn because it was the champion of their lord. Now, it was only a terrible, foreign power in their midst. They turned from Eir and her comrades and turned on the Dr
agonspawn.

  They were no longer marching but running, converging on the spectral creature. The icebrood tore into the Dragonspawn. They ripped off its icy arms and cracked open its body and shattered its head. Each time a shard came away, though, the storm of energies around the Dragonspawn whipped wider. It became a whirling cyclone. Its circling arms bashed into its attackers.

  “Is this what you planned?” Rytlock yelled.

  “In the end.” Eir nodded. “The lust for power turns on itself.”

  The swirling storm of blue magic around the Dragonspawn picked up the icebrood and smashed them together. They broke into flying shards of ice and stone, which spiraled around the dragon champion. It was taking a new shape, not as a single entity but as an ice storm. The souls and bodies of its minions were becoming part of the champion. Already, the cyclone of ice and stone whirled fifty feet high and twenty feet wide, and it roared as it consumed even more of the icebrood.

  “The Dragonspawn seems to be winning,” Rytlock noted. “What’s Phase Five?”

  “Escape,” Eir said grimly. She turned and ran, with Rytlock, Logan, Zojja, and Garm close behind. Eir shouted back to Sandy, “Get us out of here!”

  THE NEW CHAMPIONS

  The Dragonspawn whirled, a wintry cyclone ripping apart the icebrood. Their ravaged bodies—shards of ice and stone—only added to his spinning form. The vortex shuddered as it grew. Already, the storm reached the ceiling of the ice cavern.

  Eir meanwhile reached the ice cliff, with Garm beside her and Logan and Rytlock arriving next. Eir shouted back to Sandy, “Hurry up! We’ve got to ride you to the top!”

  Sandy stretched its legs, pounding up to the cliff. It turned toward Eir, laced gritty fingers together, and held its hands out to her.

  She hitched her foot into the golem’s hands and launched herself up, intending to reach its shoulders.

  Sandy had other ideas, hurling her straight up the cliff face to where Snaff waited.

  Rytlock goggled. “It just killed her.”

  Eir soared upward, reached the top of the cliff, and clawed her way to safety.

  “Actually, it just saved her,” Logan noted in awe.

  Sandy snatched Logan up in one hand and hurled him like a spear. Shouting, Logan spiraled up toward the cliff top. He tried to see where he was going, but everything was a concentric blur. Just when he was losing momentum, topping the arc, Eir snagged him out of the air and dragged him onto the cliff.

  Below, Rytlock looked dubiously at the golem. “That’s not going to work for me. I weigh more than—”

  Sandy grabbed his wrists and ankles and swept him off his feet, so that he hung like a hammock between the golem’s hands. Rytlock roared in humiliation as the golem spun around, building up momentum. At last, it flung the charr. Rytlock whirled like a horseshoe, wailing all the while, toward the top of the cliff. When he reached it, though, he was turned the wrong way, his back striking the icy edge.

  “Damn.”

  Down he slipped, plunging toward his death—

  Except that Eir grabbed his arm and hauled, and Logan latched onto his armor and pulled as well. They scraped him up the ice edge and dumped him safely atop it.

  “Thanks.”

  “Look out!”

  Rytlock rolled away just as a black dire wolf materialized out of the darkness, bounding onto the ice sheet where the charr had lain. On the wolf’s back rode a red-faced asuran apprentice.

  Eir made a quick visual check. “We’re all here except Sandy.” She turned to Snaff. “Climb Sandy out!”

  But the asura master didn’t seem to hear. He was running in place, his eyes gazing into the darkness.

  Eir knelt before him and said quietly, “We’re all safe. You can climb him out now.”

  Snaff’s head shook briefly, and he kept running.

  “We lost,” Eir admitted. “That thing’ll rip Sandy apart.”

  Still, the asura ran.

  “It’ll take his body and use it. It’ll take your mind!”

  Snaff stopped running.

  Rytlock held out his flaming sword and craned over the cliff’s end. The fiery light faintly sketched out the figure of Sandy far below, plunging into the huge cyclone of ice. Boulders and hailstones pounded him. At first, they only dented the golem, but then a huge chunk of ice smashed into Sandy’s arm, ripping it off.

  “Get him out!” Eir implored.

  It was too late. The cyclone ripped away more of the golem. Powerstone-laden sands eroded into the vortex. Sandy stood only a heartbeat more before the final crystals were torn away.

  Gone.

  Snaff went rigid, his eyes wide, gazing into horrors. Then he began to spin as if he held a dance partner. He picked up speed, turning faster and faster.

  “It’s got him for sure,” Rytlock said.

  “No,” Zojja broke in, watching with wide eyes. “No. He’s got it.”

  And then they saw: The cyclone flexed like a giant arm and shoved up against the ceiling of the cave. The ice moaned. The storm whirled tighter. The ceiling cracked.

  The cavern shook.

  “He’s trying to bring the place down.”

  Snaff crouched down for a moment, then thrust his arms up again.

  The vortex gathered itself like a spring and then launched upward. It smashed into the ice, and a thousand cracks radiated out.

  The ceiling slumped.

  “We better get out of here,” Logan said.

  “Not until he’s done,” Eir replied.

  Snaff crouched down and launched himself upward again, and the cyclone did likewise.

  It bashed through the ceiling.

  Gigantic icebergs hailed down. They smashed through the cyclone, dispersing it, and shattered the icebrood and continued to cascade, filling the chamber..

  “He’s done,” Rytlock said, scooping up Snaff.

  “Let’s go,” Eir agreed, hoisting Zojja.

  The companions turned and ran, blown forward by a gale as the cavern collapsed. Hunks of ice pummeled their backs.

  Then sparking blue energies swept out around them.

  “Ball lightning!” Eir shouted, ducking one sphere.

  “Don’t let it touch you!” Zojja yelled. “It’s the leftover essence discharging!”

  More spheres shot out through the chamber and rebounded off the icy walls. Lightning arced from sphere to sphere. The companions ducked and weaved as they ran amid the glowing globes. Stray tracers lashed them or jolted into them, each stinging with the frigid mind of the monster . . . but his power was fading.

  At a run, the invaders launched themselves up the next throat of stone and ran on through the hall where the ice giants had died. The ceiling was cracking apart, spilling sunlight across the broken figures below. The cracks spread down the walls, and great hunks of ice caved inward. Massive blocks pounded down all around them.

  Speed was the thing, and Rytlock, Eir, and Logan poured it on. Caithe struggled to keep up, but Garm snatched her up and hurled her onto his back.

  A house-size hunk of ice plunged from above them.

  The dire wolf’s claws skittered on the icy floor as he struggled to outrun the block.

  Boom! The slab staved the floor right behind Garm. A black line snaked after him, splitting the ice at his paws.

  With a yelp, he dodged away from the opening rift, following Rytlock, Eir, and Logan through the chamber of the ice bats. A few more bounds brought them out of the collapsing cavern and into the spanking sunlight of the glacier. Still, they ran, rushing beyond the avalanche zone until they could stand on scoured bedrock. Only then did they turn to look at what they’d wrought.

  Behind them, the lair of the Dragonspawn imploded. The ceiling fell in, and millions of tons of ice buried the horrors that lay below. The roar of it—the earth-shattering roar of it—was like a deafening ovation.

  The Dragonspawn was gone.

  The Dragonspawn and a thousand of the icebrood were destroyed.

  Logan whooped, �
��How’s that for a job well done?”

  “It’s not done yet,” Zojja said, nodding toward Rytlock, who set down Snaff.

  “Snaff,” Rytlock said, staring into the golemancer’s eyes. “Snaff. Snap out of it!”

  Snaff reached numbly to the golden laurel that encircled his head and drew it off. The red powerstones in it flashed and then faded to darkness. He blinked at Rytlock. “That hurt.”

  “Guess it was kind of a rough ride.”

  “Not that,” Snaff said in a weary voice. “Getting crushed by a glacier.”

  Eir laughed. “You did it, though, you know? You destroyed the Dragonspawn.”

  “No.” Snaff shook his head, looking around at them all and smiling weakly. “We did it.”

  “They did it!” shouted the crier in the marketplace of Hoelbrak. “Destiny’s Edge destroyed the Dragonspawn! They slew a thousand of the icebrood!”

  As Eir and her friends marched proudly into Hoelbrak, norn warriors gathered along the central way to stand at attention. Bakers and brewers and weavers brought loaves of bread and barrels of ale and robes of wool. Towering hunters and rangers stood shoulder to shoulder and cheered as the band passed through their midst. Norn children—as tall as Logan but wide-eyed and young—pushed through the crowd to gawk in awe as the famous warriors passed, then darted through back alleys to take up new positions and stand in awe again. After squeezing in a third time, the children ran off to empty fields where they made believe they were the slayers of the Dragonspawn. The girls argued over which was Eir and Caithe (and Zojja), and the boys fought over who was Rytlock and Logan and Snaff (and Garm).

  But the one who seemed most appreciative of all was Knut Whitebear. He waited for the honorees outside the hunting hall, flanked on both sides by the Wolfborn. A smile lurked within Knut’s braided beard, and his eyes sparkled like flecks from a glacier. As Eir and her friends approached, Knut lifted arms mantled in white bearskin and said, “Welcome home, daughter of Hoelbrak, daughter of the norn.” He stepped forward, unfolding an ermine cloak.

  Eir knelt so that he could set the cloak on her shoulders.

  “You who once were outcast have returned to us victorious, as a norn should. Well done. You and your friends”—he paused to look at each of them—“are welcome now and forever in Hoelbrak.”