Edge of Destiny (guild wars)

by J. Robert King

  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.

  Eir held her breath and launched another salvo. The three arrows arched over the dragon's head and dropped to stab through the thing's back. Three more flashes, three more booms! and the creature shuddered.

  Still, the explosions seemed only to enrage it. Its massive mouth dropped wide, and golden breath roared out. The plasma splashed down across the desert, melting sand to glass in a road that led toward Eir.

  "Come on, Garm!" Eir shouted. She turned and ran through the archway of the stone sanctum, her wolf at her heels. Behind them, dragonbreath bathed the great arch, which crackled dangerously. "Take cover!" Eir leaped into a niche along one wall.

  Garm, meanwhile, ran full out ahead of a flood of dragonbreath. It filled the air from floor to ceiling and gushed around every column and crystallized anything it didn't dissolve.

  A moment later, the caustic cloud drew back as the dragon strafed over the top of the sanctuary. The stone ceiling boomed with a huge impact. Stones split, and the archway came to pieces. Another boom sounded farther down the corridor, and this time, the dragon's tail broke straight through. Blocks of stone plunged from the ceiling and bashed down columns and shattered the floor. The dragon's tail ripped on toward the crystal dome.

  Just as Eir had planned.

  Kralkatorrik struck the dome, and it shattered, hurling shards of glass outward.

  And out of that shattered dome, Glint vaulted into battle.

  For thousands upon thousands of years, Glint had waited for this moment. She spread her wings, grabbed the air, and rose above Kralkatorrik.

  The Elder Dragon was gigantic, twenty times her size, but more sorcery than sinew.

  How do you fight a hurricane?

  The answer hung in her fangs-the dragon-blood yoke. It had to fit down tightly behind the horns of the giant beast, pressed against its stony skull.

  But where was that skull in this tumbling sandstorm?

  Glint knew her master-rapacious and ruthless. Its gold-beaming eyes would even now be raking the ground for her. The best way to bring its head around toward her was to draw its attention.

  Glint soared down through the pelting crystals of the storm until she could see the beast's broad back. A blow between the wings would bring that massive head around.

  Shrieking, Glint dived onto that back and smashed into Kralkatorrik. Talons tore off scales, and fangs ripped through muscle. Green blood sprayed from it, emerald droplets plunging through the air. Glint vaulted off its back, rose up, and dived again.

  This time, though, there was nothing to strike. The Elder Dragon's flesh had melted into a sandstorm. She tore at it with claws and fangs, but Kralkatorrik was as insubstantial as a dream.

  The dream turned on her. In midair, the Elder Dragon rolled to its back, talons reaching up. Glint tried to loft away, but those claws solidified and grasped her. They pierced her leg and flank and held on
crushingly as Kralkatorrik rolled again.

  She flailed but could not escape. She could little breathe. Her lung was punctured and bubbling.

  Kralkatorrik climbed into the sky, hauling Glint away from her lair. Its hissing bulk merged with the storm.

  Eir ran back to her post at the shattered northern archway and loosed three more shafts. They rose past the gutted sanctuary and buried themselves in the storm. Three more flashes bloomed from the cloud.

  A skittering sound came behind Eir, and she turned to see Garm rush up beside her. He halted and stared up at the boiling cloud.

  Within it, flashes of light illumined two draconic figures locked in a death match.

  "She's overmatched," Eir said breathlessly, nocking and releasing three more shafts. "She's a wren, and it's a hawk."

  The three charges blew within the cloud, illuminating the hackled back of the dragon.

  "I only hope she can place the yoke."

  Garm nudged Eir's leg. She glanced at him, but he was watching the horizon.

  There, on the plains of the Crystal Desert, marched new figures-giant Gila monsters and tarantulas, gargantuan lizards and snakes and coyotes. All had been turned to living stone by the breath of Kralkatorrik.

  Eir stepped back and cupped a hand to her mouth and shouted through the archway. "Man your posts! The minions approach! Let none of them through!"

  The monsters came on rapidly. They bounded over the desert-stone jackals and hackled lions and hulking hyenas. All moved with the hunger of the dragon itself.

  Eir nocked three more arrows and pointed them at the flood of beasts that approached. She didn't want to waste arrows meant for the dragon on his minions, but they came so quickly. Eir stepped back, and Garm with her.

  A stone-skinned lion and a gibbering hyena arrived first, leaping over the trench works. Their claws were spread before them, their fangs gaping in mad grinsBut stones shot from the trench into their bellies.

  The lion and the hyena tumbled in midair and crashed to the ground. Their translucent hides showed where the dragon-blood crystals had bedded within them. Thrashing in fury, the two beasts scrambled to their feet and turned on Eir.

  She backed up another step, the powerstone arrows jutting before her.

  But the lion and the hyena only turned away. Side by side, they bounded back over the trench and rushed into the oncoming wall of monsters.