It was unlike any she had wrestled before.
A sandstorm. A chaos. Bottomless hunger. Endless outrage.
She glimpsed it for just a moment, but that was enough. In that moment, it had glimpsed her.
Crying out, Queen Jennah reeled back from the window. Countess Anise caught her, staring in dread at her queen.
“That’s what they look like,” Jennah said, panting. Her eyes were like mirrors. “That’s what it’s like to look into the mind of a dragon.”
This was Dylan’s finest moment. In Divinity’s Reach, he had stood vigil beside Jennah through a hundred silken parties and a thousand confetti parades. Now, in the fortress of Ebonhawke, he had his one chance to truly defend her.
Dylan stepped out before the keep, his sword bared. “What comes?”
Something was fighting through the breach in the curtain wall—something huge. Dylan saw golden eyes and snapping jaws and spiked hackles. Vanguard troops clustered before the breach, shoving polearms into it, but the creature still came. Suddenly, a crystalline hyena burst through the rift, breaking it wider. The beast landed on a line of warriors, stone paws crushing them and stone teeth ripping them apart. Behind it, a dozen more of the monsters came.
“Giant hyenas!” shouted one of the guards.
More warriors rushed in to bring down the gibbering creatures, but their blades bashed uselessly off the rocky hides. The hyenas bounded atop the defenders and ate through them. Dozens fell, and the creatures loped forward into the courtyard.
One hyena stalked straight toward the keep.
Dylan lifted his sword, staring at the spiky creature. “What are you?”
It came on snarling, its legs gathering speed. It leaped.
Dylan stepped aside, letting it crash into the side of the keep, then rammed his sword into its neck. The hyena wailed, scabrous claws skittering on broken flagstones. Dylan drove his blade deeper, and the hyena shuddered to stillness.
“That is for the queen!” Dylan cried, dragging his sword from the wound. He grinned as another of the beasts stalked toward him.
Its eyes were wide, circling in mad hunger, and its nostrils flared with the scent of fresh blood.
Dylan waved his sword. “Is this what you want?”
The hyena bounded toward the blade.
Dylan drove the sword into its mouth. Steel cracked through the creature’s palate and rammed into its brain. Wheezing and gushing, it fell atop the other hyena.
Another beast gibbered as it bounded toward him.
Dylan spun, his sword barely lifted before the hyena pounded into him. It hurled him back, smashing him against the keep. He rattled down the wall. The hyena lunged a second time. Stunned and breathless, Dylan wedged his sword between himself and the creature. The blade clacked through the thing’s teeth.
The hyena reared back, yanking the sword out of Dylan’s hand and flinging it away. The creature yipped and turned its bloody grin on its prey.
Dylan drove himself back against the banded iron door and scrambled to his feet. Weaponless, he lifted his fists. “Come on now.”
The giant hyena cocked its head, blinked glassy eyes, and lunged in to bite. Despite the punches to its muzzle, the hyena’s fangs bit through the man’s right thigh and spilled him to the ground.
Groaning and mantled in blood, Dylan pulled himself back up the door. “Get back!”
It grinned at him and darted its head in again.
It tore him apart.
THE DESPERATE HOUR
As Eir explained her plan, Logan stepped back from the others.
A sudden voice spoke in his head: Come to me, Logan Thackeray. I am in Ebonhawke. I have need of you.
“She’s calling to me,” Logan muttered. “Queen Jennah is calling to me. . . .” His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor. “No!”
“Are you all right?” Rytlock asked, striding up beside him.
Logan gaped at his friend.
“Come on! Spit it out. We’ve got an Elder Dragon on the way.”
“Queen Jennah,” Logan muttered. “She’s in trouble.”
Rytlock grasped Logan’s shoulder and hoisted him to his feet. “What are you talking about?”
Logan said. “She’s calling to me! I have to go!”
“What?”
“She needs me!”
“We need you!”
“I swore an oath—”
“Yeah, to us.”
“No, to her.”
Rytlock’s eyes blazed “You’re part of my warband. You are my brother. You can’t abandon us!”
Logan turned away, striding toward Snaff. “Give me the hole in your pocket.”
The asura genius turned from the dragon-blood stones he had been working and lifted his eyebrows. “Huh?”
“Let me see that hole-in-your-pocket thing.”
“This?” Snaff asked, dragging forth the coin-size portal.
“Don’t let him—,” Rytlock began, lunging, but Logan batted the portal from Snaff’s hand.
It flew, tumbling through the air, and expanded into a wide circle with a slender metal edge. The ring tottered flat upon the floor, opening up the portal back to the land south of Ebonhawke.
Logan stepped toward it, but Rytlock grappled him. “You’re not going!”
“Let go of me! I have to go. I’ll come back.”
“What if you can’t come back?”
“I can come back. I will!”
“What’s going on?” asked Eir, approaching.
“He’s leaving,” Rytlock said.
“Leaving?” she said, gaping at the hole in the floor.
“I have to defend Queen Jennah.”
Eir looked levelly at him, and her voice was stern. “You have to do what is right.”
“Thank you,” Logan said fiercely, ripping his arms free of Rytlock and leaping through the portal. He seemed to hang for a moment above the sands, but then vanished, and the portal vanished with him.
“What just happened?” shouted Rytlock, his claws swiping the air. “Why did you say that?”
Eir said numbly, “I wanted him to stay. . . .”
“Well, he didn’t. He’s gone.”
“He’s gone,” Eir repeated stonily.
The others were gathering now, stunned.
Eir straightened. “We can’t change that now. We have our plan.”
“Logan was crucial to the plan! It’s all about keeping Snaff safe long enough that I can strike the blow. I can’t guard Snaff while I’m running with the spear.”
“We’ll have to guard Snaff without him.”
“There are three entrances to the sanctum. We need Logan!” Rytlock shot back. “He’s our best defender. He’s always beside me!”
“He’s not beside you now,” Eir snapped. “Snaff, get that powerstone yoke ready—now. Rytlock, Caithe, and Garm—prepare your positions. Kralkatorrik will find this place and find all of us. Get ready to defend!”
Logan dropped through the portable portal device, seeing Rytlock and Eir disappear above him. Once he had plunged through the floor of Glint’s sanctuary, the portal closed up, becoming as small as a spinning coin.
Logan grunted as he hit ground. He tucked and rolled across the sand dune.
The pocket portal dropped in the sand beside him. Logan gripped it, hot as it was with the energies it had expended, and slid it into his pocket.
Only then did he look up to see the horror before him.
Ebonhawke rose from the sandy wastes to the north, her curtain wall shattered, her keep battered, and her courtyards roaring with the sounds of battle.
The queen was in there.
If I call, you must come to me.
Logan ran, heart pounding. The sand yanked at his legs, but he tore up the dune, heading for that break in the wall, three feet wide from top to bottom.
But the breach was not unguarded. As Logan ran forward, Vanguard archers stepped from it, their bows raised and arrows drawn. “Halt! Who goes?”
Logan staggered to a stop, panting, and lifted his hands. “I am Logan Thackeray, brother of Dylan Thackeray—”
“The Logan Thackeray?” one of the guards said, squinting. “Slayer of dragon champions?”
“Yes.”
Both archers now lowered their weapons. “Are we in need of you! There are giant ogres and hyenas within. They gutted the charr army to reach us and are fighting inside our walls.”
“The queen summoned me. I must go to her!”
“Come along!” they shouted, gesturing him forward. “She’s in the keep.”
Logan ran to the cleft and pushed past the archers, who slapped him on the back as he went. More Vanguard within greeted him, their blood-spattered faces tinged with hope. Logan rushed past them and into the courtyard.
It was in chaos. Stone-skinned hyenas ran rampant through it, tearing apart the Ebon Vanguard. Crystalline ogres climbed the walls. Warriors poured arrows down on their heads, and some jabbed between crystals, but most bounded away. An ogre with hairlike stone spikes topped the wall, swung his arm, and knocked five archers over, into the bailey.
These crystalline horrors were the minions of Kralkatorrik.
Hoisting his war hammer, Logan ran on toward the keep.
A contingent of Seraph stood around the base of it, battling hyenas.
Logan heaved his hammer overhead and brought it down on the skull of one beast. It crashed to the ground.
“Thanks,” said a breathless Seraph.
“Let me pass,” Logan ordered, pushing through the ranks to reach the banded-iron door beyond.
The sight that greeted him there was horrifying.
Dylan lay beside the door, mantled in blood, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open.
“No!” Logan shouted. He dropped to his knees beside his brother. “Dylan, no!”
Those wide eyes turned. What was left of that bloodied chest shuddered with a bubbling breath. “Logan . . .”
“You’re alive.”
“Not much longer . . .”
Blue aura erupted from Logan’s fingers, and he touched the wounds in his brother’s chest. They glowed, flesh beginning to knit, but the holes were too wide.
“Don’t prolong it . . .”
“I have to save you.”
“You can’t.”
“The queen—she summoned me. I have to go to her.”
“It’s pointless. We haven’t enough warriors. They’re eating through us. The defenders are all dead.”
“It’s never pointless—”
Dylan hacked a laugh, looking up into his kid brother’s eyes. “Funny to hear that from you.”
With that, Dylan Thackeray shuddered to stillness.
Logan leaned forward and kissed his big brother’s forehead. “I won’t let you down. The defenders are not all dead.”
Logan stood and pounded the door. “In the name of Queen Jennah of Kryta, let me in! I am Logan Thackeray, her champion!”
A wooden beam grated, and the door creaked open. Logan forced his way through the gap, only to find a sword at his throat. “What business have you opening—wait, you’re Logan Thackeray!”
“Where’s the queen?”
The guard hitched a thumb up the stairs. “Five floors up, surrounded by Shining Blade. Nothing gets past them.”
“Safe,” Logan said, “but only if we win the battle in the courtyard. Which way to the dungeon?”
“Down those stairs, but watch yourself. Hundreds of charr down there—nastiest brutes you ever want to meet.”
“Yeah,” Logan said, “just the guys we need.”
He rushed down the spiral stairs and came to a deep chamber of barred cells with a corridor between them. A set of keys hung on a hook by the wall, and Logan snatched them up. He marched down the corridor between the cells.
When the inmates caught sight of him, they growled and hooted.
“Silence!” Logan shouted.
“Who are you to command us?” barked a grizzled warrior missing an eye.
“I am Logan Thackeray!”
“Logan Thackeray? Friend of the famous Rytlock Brimstone?”
“The same.”
“Slayer of the Dragonspawn and Morgus Lethe and the Destroyer of Life?”
“Yes, yes—all of that,” Logan said.
“Who cares?” the one-eyed charr bellowed, and his fellows barked with laughter.
“You care!” Logan shouted angrily. “Or, you should, because right now, the minions of a new dragon have slain your armies and are assaulting this keep!”
A shout of glee went up from the cells, and the one-eyed warrior snarled, “Good luck to them.”
“May I remind you that you are in the keep? You’ll be crushed in your cells—or worse.”
“You’re the one who trapped us, human!”
Logan held up the keys. “And I can release you—if you will fight beside me.”
Laughter roared from the cells, a deafening sound.
“You are a stupid young man!” the one-eyed warrior growled.
“How’s that?” Logan asked.
“Because we’ll swear anything to get out, and the moment we’re out, we’ll kill you.”
“No, you won’t.” Logan lifted the Blood Legion amulet from his neck. “Because I am your brother.”
“Bring that emblem here!” said the one-eyed charr. “Let me see that!”
Logan stepped up before the charr, whose single eye scrutinized the amulet.
“He stole it! He took it off Rytlock’s corpse.”
“No! He gave it to me willingly,” Logan said. “We have a common foe. These crystalline ogres are not just attacking the humans in Ebonhawke. They are attacking your people on the plains outside.”
“Damned ogres!”
“Fight beside me! Don’t wait in your cells for them to come kill you. Swear to fight, and I will release you.”
“I swear it on the Claw of the Khan-Ur,” growled the one-eyed charr, spitting on the floor.
Logan jabbed the key into the lock and turned it, hauling the gate open.
The charr strode from the cell and snorted, “I’m Flinteye. And you don’t stink as much as most humans.”
“Greetings, Flinteye. You don’t stink as much as most charr.” Logan flashed him a smile. “You think any of these others want to fight ogres?”
“Let’s find out.”
Logan turned to the other cells in the corridor. “All right, listen up! You can sit in here and rot and wait for the ogres to break in and kill you, or you can come with me and get weapons and fight these monsters. Who wants to kill some ogres?”
KRALKATORRIK
Big Zojja kicked her way down into the sands. Great plumes of grit flew out of the trench she was digging, curving in a wide semicircle from one side of the northern archway all the way to the other side.
Eir waited beside the trench, clutching a burnoose full of enspelled dragon-blood jewels. “Looks like ten feet deep, Zojja. That should do it.”
Big Zojja looked at her, and from within the golem came the metallic voice of Little Zojja. “I don’t want anything to jump out.”
“Me, neither,” Eir said. “But you’ve got to be able to climb out. We need you to guard the east entrance.”
The golem stared at the sandy ground up to her waist, nodded, and then began her less-than-graceful climb from the trench. Meanwhile, Eir walked along it, pouring the dragon-blood crystals into the bottom. Those stones were enspelled to cling to the dragon’s minions, to embed in the flesh and root deep.
At last, Big Zojja had extricated herself from the trench and clambered to her feet. “One more to dig,” said Zojja within.
“No. I got Glint to do it.”
Big Zojja’s head slumped dejectedly.
Eir shrugged. “We just ran out of time. Don’t worry. You’ve contributed tremendously here, Zojja. These stones at the bottom of the trenches—they’re the genius of this plan.”
Big Zojja looked up at
Eir to see if she was kidding.
“I’m serious. This is going to work,” Eir said. “Now, go make sure Snaff is finished with the powerstone yoke, and make sure he’s safe within his golem. This whole thing rests on him.”
Big Zojja stood rooted before her. “You promise me he’ll be safe.”
“I promise,” Eir replied, “as long as you get to your post.”
Big Zojja nodded and tromped off through the archway, heading toward the central dome.
Eir meanwhile looked to the north, where the sky was darkening. At first, it seemed only a giant shadow, as if an eclipse were moving across the world. But then the shadow gained substance. It was a storm—a boiling cloud that grew on the horizon. In minutes, it spread across the whole northern desert. Then it came on, piling high in giant thunderheads.
A monster was in that storm.
She could see it now—the flash of a gigantic eye, the surge of a huge wing, the long lash of a scale-covered tail.
“He’s coming!” shouted Eir. “Stations, everyone!”
From within the sanctum came the tromp of Bigs and the scratch of talons and the skitter of claws.
Garm bounded up beside Eir, pressing his muzzle to her hand as if to say this was the day she had always wanted—the day that she would destroy a dragon.
She patted him. “You’re right, Garm. You’re right.”
The black presence now overspread the whole sky. Lightning crackled among the clouds. Golden beams of light stabbed down to bake the desert sands. The ground seemed to melt, to boil and twist. The golden fire seared a highway through the desert. It was heading straight toward Glint’s sanctuary.
Eir hoisted her bow, nocked three explosive charges on the string, and drew back to sight the heart of the cloud. She took a deep breath and released.
Three long shafts vaulted skyward, carrying their powerstone payloads toward the beast. The shafts vanished into the murk, and three green flashes ignited within the cloud.
Then came the boom! boom! boom!
Shock waves shook the ground.
Already, Eir was lifting three more arrows.
But suddenly the belly of the cloud ripped open, and out of it dropped the dragon. Huge and jagged like cracked stone, it soared toward Eir. Its fangs gaped, its eyes blazed, its hackles spiked.
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