Edge of Destiny (guild wars) Page 15

  This was not going to be an easy fight.

  Rytlock, too, was in trouble. He had scrambled up from the metal net but had left Sohothin within it, hopelessly tangled and sending up metallic smoke.

  Worse, the dire wolf was upon him. It leaped for his throat, its jaws gaping.

  Rytlock crouched, curling into a ball.

  The wolf's massive teeth closed over the neck piece of his armor. The fangs skirled on the metal as the wolf flew past, carried by its momentum. It pounded to the ground just beyond Rytlock and turned, snarling.

  He rose and snarled back, his claws out.

  The dire wolf eyed him and began to circle, looking for a chance at the charr's throat.

  Rytlock laughed. "You look flammable to me. If I had my sword, there'd be wolf on the menu."

  The dire wolf lunged, fangs bared. It bashed into Rytlock and knocked him to his back. Its teeth snapped just short of his throat. Roaring, the charr raked his claws down the wolf's neck, drawing blood. The beast reared back and brought its massive forepaws down to pound Rytlock's chest. Breath blasted from his lungs, and once again the wolf lunged for his throat. Rytlock rolled aside, and the wolf got a snoutful of sand. It sneezed massively and bounded off the charr.

  Rytlock scrambled to his feet and struggled to regain his breath. The air around was thick with shouts. The crowd chanted, "Edge of Steel!" but also, "Des-ti-ny!"

  They didn't care which team won. They only wanted a spectacle, and they were getting it.

  On one side of the arena, Logan and the norn warrior traded hammer blows. On the other, Rytlock and the dire wolf circled each other, snarling. That left one other member of Edge of Steel, the one who always struck the killing blow…

  Caithe, too, had escaped her net, and she stalked toward the two asura. They lingered near the arena wall as if petrified. She had a dagger for each one, and she could easily plant them from thirty paces. She was nearly in range. Flipping a blade in her hand, Caithe caught the keen tip of it and raised it to throw at the male asura.

  But he threw something first-a handful of red sand. It flew out and whiffed down in front of Caithe.

  Did he want to blind her? He would have to throw better than that.

  Caithe took two more steps. In range. She threw her daggerExcept that the ground shifted underfoot, and the blade spun off-target, only nicking the asura's ear.

  He didn't even flinch, focused instead on the sand beneath her feet. It was mounding up. The asura spread his fingers toward the ground, and it rose in response.

  Caithe's feet sank to midcalf in the clinging sand. She tried to pull them free but plunged to her knees. Clawing the stuff only trapped her hands as well.

  Quicksand! But it wasn't watery. It was firm-like muscle.

  A huge sand creature was emerging beneath her. Its back arched from the arena floor and revealed a head with pointed ears. Caithe's feet were mired in its shoulder. Sand sifted away to reveal broad but stumpy arms and stocky legs. The golem stood to full height-a gigantic asura in the likeness of the older asura.

  The golem moved as the asura moved. He lifted a hand to his shoulder and pressed firmly down, and the golem's hand lifted the same way, driving Caithe to midthigh in the sandy golem. She stabbed the thing with her daggers, but the blades only sank away, lost in the all-consuming sand.

  Caithe shouted for help, but her teammates couldn't possibly hear over the roar of the crowd.

  Why are they laughing? Logan wondered, but he had no time to look.

  The norn's mallet thrummed the air. Logan leaped aside as the maul cratered the ground. He hurled his own maul around in a sudden, desperate stroke. The head missed the norn but struck the handle of her mallet, breaking it. The blow also jarred the norn's hands. She staggered back.

  It was Logan's first opening, and he took it.

  Spinning, he whirled the war hammer in a moaning circle.

  The norn tried to leap away, but the hammer struck a glancing blow to her ribs. Crack! Breath blasted from her. She staggered back, fell to the ground, and gasped.

  A cheer resonated from the crowd.

  Logan turned and saw that Caithe was half-buried in the shoulder of a-what was that thing? A sand golem?

  He ran toward the golem, raised his hammer, and brought it down against the golem's leg. Steel struck sand and flung away a divot of it. The remaining sand, though, grabbed hold of his weapon. Logan pulled it free and struck again, blasting more sand away. The leg was thinning, the golem tottering. Logan chopped like a lumberjack.

  The golem reached its massive hand down to grab him, but Logan dodged away. He smashed one of the sandy fingers, obliterating it. Still the hand reformed and took another swipe at him.

  As Logan spun out of reach, he glimpsed the little asura making the same motions as the big one: a puppeteer.

  Ducking another attack, Logan rushed up to the asura, hoisted him off his feet, turned him over, and shook him. A golden laurel fell from his head.

  Twenty feet behind him, the golem toppled onto its back and shuddered. Sand sifted away from Caithe's legs, and she clawed her way out of the dissolving monster.

  A great cheer erupted.

  "Let him go!" came a shout.

  Logan turned to see the other asura, the apprentice, staring him down. He laughed. "Let him go or what?"

  "Or this!" she responded, flinging her hands out.

  A bolt of lightning erupted from her grip, smashing into Logan and hurling him across the sands. His nerveless hand lost hold of the asura, who toppled separately. Logan also dropped his hammer. It tumbled to the ground as he did. Logan staggered up, jangled by the blast, and grabbed his hammer in numb fingers.

  Meanwhile, the asura apprentice flung the powerstone laurel to her master. He donned it somewhat dizzily.

  From the sands, the huge golem mounded up, taking shape again and hulking to its feet. As the asura puppet master marched in place, the sand golem lumbered toward Caithe.

  "No!" Logan roared, and ran toward the golemancer.

  The sand golem meanwhile snatched up Caithe in one fat fist.

  Logan was ten feet from the golemancer when another bolt of blue blasted into him and hurled him back.

  He crashed over the sands only to have sands crash over him: the sandy fist. That damned golem clutched him in one hand and clutched Caithe in the other and ran toward Rytlock.

  Rytlock turned to escape, but the wolf lunged against his back and knocked him down.

  Next moment, the lumbering golem arrived and slumped down, burying Rytlock to his chest.

  There was a moment of stunned silence in the arena as the norn warrior strode back to join her battle-scarred wolf and the two asura geniuses.

  Then all eyes shifted to Edge of Steel, buried in sand.

  The crowd erupted. Every voice shouted, every hand clapped, and the roar of it all evolved into the cry "Des-ti-ny! Des-ti-ny! Des-ti-ny!"

  In the infirmary beneath the arena, the two gladiatorial teams met once again. Chirurgeons tended Garm's many claw wounds and Rytlock's many bite marks; they set Eir's broken ribs and Snaff's dislocated shoulder. But most of all, they kept Edge of Steel from murdering Dragonspawn's Destiny.

  Rytlock roared, "You hid a golem in the arena!"

  "We're golemancers," Snaff replied. "What did you think we were going to do? Stand there and get slaughtered?"

  "Actually, yes."

  Eir gasped as the chirurgeon set plaster to her bruised side. "Then you failed to plan."

  "Of course we didn't plan," Rytlock snarled. "We're fighters, not engineers."

  "Which is why you need us," Zojja put in.

  "We don't need anybody," Rytlock spat.

  "We defeated you," Eir said. "You're not invincible. But together, we can be."

  "Why would we ever join you?"

  "Because we own you now," Eir said. "We made a bet with Captain Magnus the Bloody Handed, and we won your billet."

  Rytlock convulsed, his claws raking out and narr
owly missing his chirurgeons. "Damn it!"

  "You have no choice," Eir said coolly. "You will go with us to fight the Dragonspawn."

  Rytlock was trembling with fury, unable to speak.

  Logan set a hand on his shoulder. "She's right. Trick or no trick, we've got to go."

  Snaff winced as a chirurgeon set a hot towel on his shoulder. "The fact is, you three aren't gladiators."

  "Aren't we?" barked Rytlock.

  Snaff shook his head. "Of course not. You're heroes. You don't need to fight trumped-up battles against prearranged foes." He looked around at the stone ceiling. "You should be out beneath the sky, fighting real monsters."

  Rytlock, Logan, and Caithe looked at each other, unsure what to say.

  Snaff sighed. "We went after you because you were the heroes we needed. We set this whole thing up, crossed continents, designed golems, bet with our own lives to win your billet and to win you to our side. Yes, we can force you to join us, but we don't want henchmen. We want heroes."

  Again, the members of Edge of Steel traded glances.

  At last, Logan spoke for them all. "Tell us about the lair of the Dragonspawn."

  From Her Royal Majesty, Jennah,

  Queen of Kryta,

  Regent of Ascalon

  To Logan Thackeray

  Greetings:

  I have received word that you and your comrades are leaving the arena to go on a quest. Congratulations. I always felt that your courage was wasted on gladiators: you were meant for greater things.

  But I fear that this quest is beyond even a hero such as yourself. Dragon champions are not to be trifled with. They are of themselves tremendously powerful, but they also tap into the inexhaustible power of their lords, the Elder Dragons. This Dragonspawn is the greatest champion of ancient and wicked Jormag and has destroyed countless heroes-whole companies of norn.

  As your queen, I could forbid you to do this thing, but I have seen you defeat a legion of charr. I have seen you slay devourers and destroyers, centaurs and ettins and worse. If anyone could defeat the Dragonspawn, it would be you.

  So, I will not forbid it. I will trade fear for hope and look forward to congratulating you on this latest and greatest of your victories.

  Your queen,

  Jennah

  THE CALM BEFORE

  Two weeks later, an amazing group passed through the Hoelbrak asura gate. First came Eir Stegalkin, her head breaking through the magical membrane beside the head of Rytlock Brimstone. The woman and the charr marched side by side, pulling a wagon behind them. The wagon was fully loaded, with a tarp strapped across its contents. On the tarp sat Snaff, looking quite satisfied, and Zojja, looking somewhat sour. On one side of the wagon walked Logan Thackeray in his much-scarred armor, and on the other side strolled Caithe of the Firstborn. Behind the conveyance loped the dire wolf Garm.

  As this group emerged from the gate, the norn guards spread out in a semicircle around them. Two guards stepped before the wagon, planted spear butts in the road, and leaned the points toward Eir and Rytlock.

  "Halt, there, Eir Stegalkin, by order of Knut Whitebear!" demanded a tall guard with blond braids.

  Eir halted.

  "Chilly welcome," Rytlock noted, looking impressed.

  "Tell Knut Whitebear that I have returned with a band of warriors to slay the Dragonspawn," Eir ordered.

  The guard nodded and turned to go but caught himself. "I give the orders here."

  "Go tell him."

  The guard's eyes locked with hers in a staring contest that he quickly lost. "That's exactly what I'm going to do." He handed his spear to the guard beside him and stormed off. "We'll see about this."

  The other guard, his hair dirty white like glacial runoff, hitched his chin at the wagon. "What've you got in there?"

  "Provisions," Eir said simply.

  "Like what?"

  "Like meat. Charr eat meat."

  The charr flashed a smile.

  The guard stared at Rytlock. "You look familiar. Are you a gladiator?"

  Rytlock's smile only deepened. "One-third of Edge of Steel."

  "Edge of Steel!" the guard said, smacking himself in the head. "Of course! You're famous. Everybody was talking about you, coming and going through the gate-so I went and saw you. Incredible! When you killed that destroyer harpy-"

  "Racogorrix, yeah," Rytlock supplied, hitching a claw over his shoulder. "That was Logan-"

  "I thought the crowd was going to tear the place down!" the guard enthused. His eyebrows suddenly knitted. "Hey, did I hear something about you guys losing a match?"

  It was Eir's turn to smile. "We beat them."

  "You? You three? You and these two?"

  "We're geniuses," Snaff explained.

  Eir nodded. "We three and the dire wolf. We're called Dragonspawn's Destiny."

  "Yeah. Whoa! You beat Edge of Steel, and they joined up with you? That would make you, like, Edge of Dragonspawn's Steely Destiny… uh, what do you call yourselves?"

  "Destiny's Edge," Eir supplied.

  Just then, the first guard returned, followed by a broad norn warrior with much scarred skin. Knut Whitebear's eyes were black pits beneath his glowering brows.

  Before he could speak, the second guard blurted, "Do you know who this is?"

  "Eir Stegalkin," Knut said, addressing her.

  "Not just her, but these are Destiny's Edge-the best gladiators ever with the band that beat them!"

  Knut ignored the guard. "This is your band?"

  Eir met his gaze. "Rytlock is a Blood Legion soldier, and Logan has fought for Queen Jennah. They, with Caithe, one of the firstborn sylvari, slew an ogre chiefling, his warband, and his hyenas. They killed devourers and destroyers and went undefeated in the arena in Lion's Arch-"

  "But the rest of these are the same hapless creatures you took before-"

  "The rest of these defeated this undefeated team in combat not two weeks ago," Eir said flatly.

  Knut nodded, impressed, but doubt still lingered in his eyes. "What of those blasted clockwork creatures?"

  "Do you see any?" Eir asked. "This is a force like no other. We go north to destroy the Dragonspawn."

  Knut gritted his teeth. "You'd better not fail again, or his wrath will fall on us all."

  "It won't happen again. We'll destroy him this time."

  "Outlaw, huh?" Rytlock muttered as he and Eir drew the heavy wagon through Hoelbrak.

  "Outcast, more like," Eir corrected, "temporarily."

  The charr nodded. "An outlaw steals a pig. An outcast pretty much destroys a whole city."

  "That's right."

  Rytlock mulled the response for a while before asking, "What did you do?"

  "Brought on a blizzard-twenty feet of snow. Ice sharp as daggers. Roofs caved. People died. The Dragonspawn did not like being nearly killed."

  The charr whistled through his teeth. "Never leave an enemy alive. That was your mistake."

  "It's the Dragonspawn's mistake, too."

  Well north of Hoelbrak, the charr and the norn staggered to a stop and parked the wagon on the tundra. Just beside the wagon lay the wreckage of Big Snaff.

  "There's one of them," Eir said.

  The damage was severe. The golem's stone head had split in half, with Big Snaff's left eye and nose and mouth lying close by but the rest of his face some fifty feet away. His golem body lay in three pieces nearby-two mangled legs and a battered torso with broken arms.

  Snaff and Zojja jumped down from the wagon to investigate. After a few minutes of stooping and peering, Snaff called back, "Worse than I thought."

  "What happened to it?" Rytlock asked.

  Eir pantomimed a pair of talons hoisting the golem into the air and letting it go.

  "You mean, you marched that thing in against the Dragonspawn, and it hurled it back out?" Rytlock asked.

  "Many miles back out," Eir replied.

  "The stanchions are shattered," Zojja reported. "The servos are split. We could salvage some th
ylid crystals-maybe-use some of the gear work elsewhere-maybe-but there's no way this golem's going to fight again."

  Garm let out a howl, his nose pointed north.

  The team looked to the horizon, where the other broken figure lay.

  "Take them there," Eir commanded.

  The dire wolf trotted to Snaff, bit down on his shirt, and hurled him up across his back. The wolf then did the same for Zojja. Once the two were seated, he galloped out across the mossy ground, heading for the next wreck site.

  "Let's go," Eir said, hauling on the wagon.

  Amazed and unnerved, Rytlock staggered forward, pulling as well.

  That night, the group gathered around a campfire. Eir and Rytlock reclined on the wagon they had hauled all day while Caithe, Logan, and the two asura perched on pieces of scavenged golem. Actually, the asura didn't perch. They worked. With wrenches and screwdrivers, mallets and awls, they struggled to resurrect the wreckage.

  "This Snaff matrix won't fit inside the Zojja fuselage," Zojja complained.

  "Do your best," Snaff replied, not for the first time. "It just has to work. It doesn't have to be pretty." He was currently replacing the shattered ankle joint of the golem.

  "Can we march by morning?" Eir asked.

  "Yes. Yes," Snaff responded absently, "by morning."

  Logan took a deep breath of the frosty night air and looked to Eir. "Tell us about the Dragonspawn."

  Eir nodded pensively. "The Dragonspawn isn't so much a man but a creature of ice and cold. He leads an army of the icebrood and Sons of Svanir."

  "I've heard the name," Logan said. "What are they, anyway?"

  "Two hundred fifty years ago, a hunter named Svanir and his sister Jora led a band of norn to slay the wolves that ruled Drakkar Lake. They were crossing the frozen waters when a strange presence grasped Svanir's mind. It whispered seductions to him, promised power and prey. It was a voice of infinite hunger and hate, and Svanir listened to it.

  "Jora heard the voice, too, but it terrified her. She refused its dark gifts and tried to drag her brother away, but he struck her and told her she was weak, told her he had discovered the well of power. She fled.

  "Svanir remained to commune with his newfound lord. In time, the voice began to change him. It taught him to hate all living things. It stripped him of his human form and made him a champion-half bear, half norn, encrusted with ice. Svanir wandered the wastes in madness, attacking any who came near. He became a monster that his own sister had to destroy.