Edge of Destiny (20 page)

Logan didn’t care what they thought. The queen had summoned him, and he had come.

She awaited him, sitting at the end of the red carpet, on a throne of gold.

Logan strode toward the queen of Kryta.

Pallid-faced guards dressed in blue and gold—the Shining Blade—stepped up protectively around her throne.

Logan flashed them a smile and then went to his knee, bowing. “Greetings, Your Majesty.”

“Rise,” she commanded.

Logan got to his feet and stared wonderingly at her. She was more beautiful than before—her brown hair pulled back from her neck, her dark eyes locking with his, her lips a red to match the rich robes that mantled her. He almost forgot the words he’d been practicing: “Your Majesty, I came the moment I received your summons.”

She smiled dazzlingly. “You
must
have. I sent it just this morning.”

“I am at your command.”

“Then I command you to stand with me.” The queen rose from her throne. Logan stood there numbly as his queen stepped up next to him. She grasped his hand—her fingers soft but strong—and turned him outward to face the roomful of courtiers. She lifted their hands together. “Friends, senators, courtiers—” She looked pointedly at a proud bald man with a long goatee, and said in an almost growl, “Minister Caudecus—I want to introduce this young man to you. He is a warrior of a new stripe—a gladiator who slew a minion of Primordus in my honor. This is Logan Thackeray.”

The courtiers nodded politely, donning smiles and clapping gloved hands in a muffled ovation.

“He fights for me,” the queen went on, “as certainly as his brother fights for me. Yes, I have champions beyond the Seraph and the Shining Blade. I have champions such as this warrior. I said he was of a new stripe, but in fact, he is of a very old stripe. He is a hero, like Rurik of old.”

Again came the muted applause, the supercilious smiles.

Logan blushed as the queen lowered his hand and squeezed his fingers. She leaned toward him and murmured into his ear, “Thank you for answering my summons.”

He squeezed her hand in return. “I will always answer your summons.”

“
Will
you?” she replied in a voice of sudden steel. Turning toward him, she pinioned him on her gaze. “Then you will be bonded to me.” She lifted her hand as if in blessing, but then reached out to lay her palm on his forehead and lace her fingers into his hair.

Power poured through her touch.

It roared into Logan.

The queen’s mind entered his own mind like a thief through a window. But he welcomed this thief. He took her hand and led her deep within and showed her vistas of memory.

They walked together at the height of the Blazeridge Gap as stones buried the charr.

They swam together through the depths of the underground river.

They fought side by side in the meadow against the destroyers.

They stood hand in hand on the arena sands before the Killers.

Logan showed her every moment: when he was a boy clapping his hands red as his brother was inducted into the Seraph; when he was a young man leading his first scouting party to escape a wildfire; when he was first blooded, slaying a centaur raider and taking the creature’s war hammer; when he was most proud, using that hammer to destroy a minion of Primordus in the name of his queen. . . .

Jennah’s hand broke from his forehead, and she stepped back, catching a slight breath. Once again, the two of them were standing in the throne room, staring wide-eyed at each other.

Jennah whispered, “The things you have done.”

Logan smiled. “The things I will yet do—in your name.”

The senators and courtiers of Divinity’s Reach listened in silence.

Jennah glanced toward them and drew a deep breath, becoming the queen once again. “You are bonded to me, now, Logan Thackeray,” she pronounced, speaking to everyone. “If ever I am in mortal peril, I will call to you, and you must come to me.”

“Yes, my queen,” Logan said, dropping again to one knee.

Jennah’s eyes moved among the courtiers, fixing on certain ones. “Let those who plot against the throne beware.”

“Where’ve you been?” Rytlock asked.

Logan wandered dumbstruck onto the arena sands. “I’m not exactly sure.”

“Sangjo wants to talk with us,” the charr growled. “All of us.”

Caithe walked up to join her teammates. “Something about a big matchup.”

The three walked side by side through the main trainer’s gate into the foul-smelling underbelly of the arena. They passed among rows of caged gladiators, who hollered excitedly to see Edge of Steel among them, and reached an infirmary, whose operating tables just now were empty. Beyond the tables, Sangjo stood in conference with a female norn, her dire wolf, and a pair of asura.

Wending among the empty tables, Edge of Steel approached. They stopped a few strides away, planted their feet, and folded their arms over their chests.

Logan spoke for them. “You wanted to see us?”

Sangjo dipped his head. “I’ve just arranged a special match for you.”

“With whom?” Logan asked.

“With this group—Eir, Snaff, Zojja, and Garm.” As Sangjo named them, he pointed to each one.

Rytlock blinked. “Are they suicidal?”

“No,” replied the norn named Eir.

“You’ve seen us fight, yes?”

The little asura named Snaff waddled forward and nodded happily. “Oh, yes, many times. We’ve studied—”

“We’ve seen you fight,” broke in the norn. “We’re ready.”

Rytlock strode along before the group. “How many matches have you fought?”

“We fought the Dragonspawn,” Eir responded.

“Did you win?” Rytlock asked.

“No.”

The charr lumbered over to Sangjo. “What is this? Is it some kind of trick?”

“It’s no trick,” Eir responded. “It’s a bet.”

Rytlock turned toward her. “A bet with whom?”

“With your owner—Captain Magnus the Bloody Handed.”

Rytlock scowled. “What kind of bet?”

“If we beat you in the arena,” Eir explained, “he will lend you to us on our quest to slay the Dragonspawn.”

“What?” Rytlock snarled, backing away among his teammates. “He can’t lend us out to fight a dragon champion.”

“He’s afraid,” Snaff said in a stage whisper.

“Afraid of what?” barked Rytlock.

Snaff shrugged. “Of us, of course.”

The charr made a hawking sound. “Of you?”

“You’re afraid we’ll defeat you. That’s the only way you’d have to face the Dragonspawn—which, by the way, we’ve already faced and will again.” Snaff turned to his comrades. “Maybe they aren’t as tough as they look from the stands.”

Rytlock roared with wounded pride and blurted, “We’ll beat you. We’ll
destroy you
!” He looked toward his comrades, who nodded shallowly. “Sangjo, you better promote this match. I want this place packed the day we shred these four.”

Sangjo said simply, “It shall be done.”

The evening sun cast long shadows as Eir, Snaff, Zojja, and Garm headed toward the Lion’s Arch asura gate.

“That cost us,” Zojja groused.

“Money well spent,” said Eir. “
My
money well spent. We couldn’t afford their billet, so a bet with Magnus was the only way to win them. And even if we win their
billet,
we also have to win their
respect.
And the only way to do that is to beat them.”

“How?” Zojja wondered.

“Oh, we’ll beat them,” Eir replied, “and with Edge of Steel, we’ll bring down the Dragonspawn, too.”

Zojja sniffed, “You make it all sound predestined.”

“It is, Zojja. We’re the Dragonspawn’s destiny.”

CONTEST

F
or the first time in two months, Edge of Steel canceled their scheduled match.

The fans were outraged.

“They will not fight tonight or tomorrow,” proclaimed Sangjo, standing in the announcer’s tower. “Or the next night or the next.”

Boos answered his pronouncement, welling up around the arena.

“What’s the matter?” Sangjo asked. “There are plenty of other gladiatorial teams.”

A chant of
“Edge of Steel! Edge of Steel!”
began in one sector of the arena and propagated through the whole. It shook the stands and washed across the other gladiatorial teams waiting below. In the announcer’s tower, Sangjo smiled secretly and waited for the chants to die down. After five minutes, they did.

“Friends. Friends—they
will
fight again. In five days, you will see them face their greatest rivals ever.”

A wild cheer went up. The cry evolved into a single chanted question—
“Who? Who? Who?”

“In five days, you will see.”

Throughout those five days, Sangjo furiously promoted the match. He sent out a small army of stable hands to stand in the streets and shout teasers. The one bit of information they did not divulge, though, was whom Edge of Steel would fight.

Edge of Steel themselves spread the news through the taverns of Lion’s Arch. They promised “a strange challenge,” “a brutal whupping,” and “a bloody massacre,” depending upon which group member was giving the report. Soon, the taverns rang with speculation about the mystery challengers.

But even Edge of Steel knew little about their opponents. Just after laying down their challenge, the foes had vanished through an asura gate. They were a complete mystery.

As Edge of Steel worried about their unknown foes, Lion’s Arch boiled into a frenzy over them.

Then the night of the match came.

Crowds clogged the streets all around the arena, shutting down traffic as they jostled to get inside the huge overturned ship. The stands filled with hundreds and then thousands. Banners announced the crowd’s favorite—Edge of Steel—but no one knew the name of the challengers.

Then the time for battle came, and Sangjo ascended the announcer’s tower to call out, “Welcome, everyone, to tonight’s epic spectacle. The famous versus the obscure, the known versus the unknown. The heroes versus the villains. Many have asked who these challengers may be. Now is the moment you will see for yourselves. Here they are, Dragonspawn’s Destiny!”

The crowd leaped to its feet, applauding and cheering—craning to see what great menace would emerge from the gladiators’ hold.

The barred gate rolled back, and from the darkness waddled two tiny asura onto the newly sanded arena floor.

A rumble of uncertainty answered, followed by a roar of derisive laughter. These two? They looked like aphids. Shouts of outrage began to pierce the laughter.

“What is this?”

“No!”

“A joke!”

Then, a towering norn warrior stepped from the darkness, dragging a huge bow from her shoulder. She drew from her quiver three heavy-headed arrows, each bolt the height of a man. When a great black wolf loped out beside the woman, the furor of the crowd died down, and a few people began to chant,
“Wolves! Wolves! Wolves!”

But then the men rolled the gates closed. No more wolves emerged—no more creatures at all.

Heckling shouts filled the stands.

“And now, the team you have come to cheer for, the champions of the arena, the undefeated. They are Caithe, Rytlock, and Logan, but you know them better as Edge of Steel!”

The air turned solid with cheers.

From a gate on the opposite side of the arena trotted the sylvari, charr, and human, and the shouts redoubled. The gladiators lifted their hands in greeting, and the fans responded with a growing chant.

“Edge of Steel! Edge of Steel! Edge of Steel!”

“And now, let the match begin!”

Rytlock ripped Sohothin from its stone scabbard and stabbed it skyward. The blade added its hungry roar to the roar of the crowd. Logan meanwhile lifted his war hammer from his belt and swung it in a series of deadly figure eights. Caithe pulled the daggers from her bandoliers and twirled them before her. The three stared across the arena sands at the norn, her wolf, and the two asura.

The storm of cheers quieted, and a watchful hush fell over the crowd.

Edge of Steel stood, waiting.

So did Dragonspawn’s Destiny. They didn’t move a muscle.

“What’s taking them so long?” Rytlock asked.

Logan said, “Probably terrified.”

The members of Dragonspawn’s Destiny still stayed put.

“Probably
planning
something,” Caithe said.

An ugly rumble began in the crowd and rose like a wave.

“Don’t they care that they look like idiots, just standing there?” Logan asked.

Rytlock snarled. “Don’t we?”

With that, he strode forward and broke into a run. Sand flew up in a dust cloud behind him.

“Let’s go,” Logan said with a sigh, bolting after his comrade.

Caithe lit out as well, catching up to Logan, who caught up to Rytlock. Side by side, the gladiatorial champions charged across the sands toward their mysterious foes.

Dragonspawn’s Destiny had still not moved. They seemed frozen in fear.

Rytlock roared a war cry, and his comrades took it up.

At last, the norn warrior moved. She nocked three arrows, hoisted her huge bow, and let fly. The arrows arced up above the sands and then came whistling down toward Edge of Steel.