Edge of Destiny (23 page)

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

E
ir 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 about 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.

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.