Edge of Destiny (33 page)

And from Rytlock’s mind—the image of Logan launching up to drag down Racogorrix in midair.

Then from Snaff—Zojja bent over a golem, removing the ankle joint he had designed and replacing it with her new version, much stronger and simpler.

From Zojja—Snaff describing the defeat of the Dragonspawn, his eyes aglow and his hands gesturing to a ring of norn admirers.

From Snaff—Eir with hair drawn back and arms speckled with sweat and rock dust flying as she carved a perfect likeness of him.

From Logan—Caithe single-handedly bringing down the mast of a rotten ship and swinging away from undead.

From Rytlock—Logan mowing down undead.

From Zojja—Rytlock lifting a tankard.

From Caithe—Eir laughing at a joke.

From Garm—guarding them all.

And suddenly, they were through.

The sun-baked defile was behind them, and the companions stood on the edge of a great sand sea.

“We made it through,” Caithe said. “She couldn’t drive us away.”

Eir shook her head. “You’re right, Caithe. She couldn’t drive us away, but she
could
drive wedges between us. We’ll never defeat her unless we fight as one.” Eir looked around at her companions. “I know you heard some unsavory things from me, but you must understand that I’ve hand-selected each of you. I trust each of you—
all
of you—with my life.”

Her companions nodded, looking down at the sands.

“Damn it!” Rytlock spat. He turned and clapped Logan on the back. “Sorry about some of those things I thought.”

“It’s fine,” Logan assured him. “And sorry about that whole thing about being a monster.”

Rytlock laughed. “I kind of liked that.”

As the two Bigs ground along, side by side, Snaff spoke through the tube, “You really are a genius, you know.”

“Yes,” Zojja replied. “I know.”

“You’ll be your own master any day now.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Okay, I won’t,” Snaff replied in a tinny voice. “But I
will
think it. You’re ready for it. I’m just selfish. Where am I going to find another apprentice like you?”

Eir meanwhile turned to Caithe and said, “You didn’t share a single unkind thought toward any of us.”

“I don’t have a single unkind thought toward you. If I did, I’d say it.”

“I suppose you would,” Eir said with a laugh. She looked out on the rolling sand dunes that stretched forever into the distance. “Now, where is this dragon sanctum?”

“It’s hidden in a crystal of sand,” Logan said. “But how do we find it?”

“Yeah,” Eir said. “I’m glad you can’t hear what I’m thinking.”

Big Zojja strode up and clanked to a stop, and a metallic voice came from within. “I can find it.”

The others looked at the golem in amazement, and Eir said, “How?”

“Scan for magic.” Zojja said. “Glint is incredibly powerful. She could not completely hide her magical signature. I can use the cockpit cage as an antenna of sorts. Tune it to magical frequencies.” Big Zojja began walking out into the vast desert.

Eir looked askance at Big Snaff. “Really?”

The golem seemed to shrug, then waddled out after Big Zojja.

Eir nodded, took a swig of water from her canteen, and followed, as did the rest of the companions.

The companions wandered beneath the staring eye of the sun, following Big Zojja, as Little Zojja used her cockpit cage to pick up a telltale tendril of magic. She always proclaimed that the sanctum was before them, but twice they crossed their own trail. Never did they find that one grain of sand that held the sanctum of Glint.

Big Zojja trudged up a hill. Her ankle joints made an agonized hiss, ball sockets crisscrossed with score marks from the sand. The golem planted its feet wide and settled into position. Steam jetted from a pair of air locks on its shoulders, and the blast shield on the torso cockpit creaked open. “Ah! Cool air!” came the voice from within. Straps were unsnapped and buckles unbuckled, and Little Zojja jumped down amid the others. “It’s hot in there.”

Exhausted and sunburned, Eir trudged to the top of a dune, dropped to her knees, and lay on the still-warm sands. “This is as good a place as any.”

Zojja quietly approached. “It’s
close by.
”

“You’ve said that all day,” Rytlock noted as he, too, collapsed to the sands.

Logan trudged up, yanked off one boot, and poured a mound of sand to the ground.

“No
wonder
we couldn’t find it!” shouted Rytlock. “The sanctuary’s been in Logan’s boot!”

“Har, har,” Logan replied.

Zojja clamped her teeth together. “You’re such a charr.”

“Where
is
the damned place?” Logan asked.

Zojja closed her eyes and spread her hands. “It feels like . . . it feels like it’s every direction.”

“No wonder we’ve been going in circles,” Rytlock murmured. He took two gulps from his canteen. “Nearly gone.”

Eir handed out hardtack and jerky. “We’ll have to begin again tomorrow. We need rest.”

Big Snaff arrived in much the same way as Big Zojja. The asura genius climbed from his cockpit and lay down with the others.

“It’s going to get cold tonight,” Caithe said.

“Cold?” Rytlock asked.

“The desert gets cold at night. I wish we had something to burn.”

“I’m burning,” the charr said. “Sit next to me, and you’ll be plenty warm.”

The group didn’t say much more as the stars came out above them—millions of them. Their blue light seemed to drag the heat out of the sand. As night wore on, the companions shifted closer and closer together, sharing warmth.

At the darkest corner of night, Rytlock drew Sohothin and laid it on the sand between them to keep them all warm.

One by one, they dropped off to sleep.

They were awakened by the first, knifelike rays of the sun as it pierced the eastern sky. All awoke then except Zojja, who was already standing, eyes closed and hands reaching out to sense the sanctum. “It’s right before us. Somewhere right here. In a grain of sand, but which?”

Logan dug his hand into the grit. Sand drained through his fingers, falling in little piles. “A thousand thousand crystals, and one of them holds a sanctuary.”

Snaff soberly watched the grains tumble. “Reminds me of poor old Sandy.” He suddenly struck his head. “Sandy! Of course!”

“What?” asked Logan.

“Sandy was made of billions of grains of sand—not one,” Snaff explained feverishly. “We could hide him in the arena because everyone could see him without even knowing it. It’s the same with the inner sanctum. It’s not in a single grain. It’s in
all
of them! Zojja was right—we’re in the middle of it! Just open your eyes!”

As they all stared around them, the cloaking magic eroded.

The sand moved—grains fusing to become crystals and crystals fusing to become gems and gems to become rods and columns and walls and colonnades. Diamond pillars rose all around them, and great archways formed to join them. The arches, too, expanded into a dome the color of the sapphire sky. Walls solidified between archways, and beneath them, the sand became a floor as smooth as glass.

In moments, where there had been only trackless desert, there was now a gigantic sanctuary.

“Weapons out, everyone!” Eir commanded as she nocked three shafts to her bow.

Out came the other weapons—the fiery sword and the spinning hammer and the white-bladed stilettos. Snaff and Zojja scrambled up the legs of their golems and hastily buckled themselves in, powering up the massive machines.

“We’re here,” Zojja whispered incredulously. She peered down one of the golden colonnades that led away from the central dome. “We’re in the sanctum of a dragon.”

“And
she’s
here as well,” Eir warned, “somewhere.”

The companions turned back-to-back, gazing out at the beautiful palace.

On one side of the main dome was a crystalline tree. Its leaves were formed of emeralds that glowed with their own light. On the other side hung a huge spear of quartz, suspended above a pedestal. Its blade, too, seemed to glow from within. Each of the three great archways from the main dome led to a golden colonnade. Two of the colonnades extended to distant entrances, beyond which stretched the desert.

But the third colonnade was dark.

From it, an ancient voice emerged as dry as sand:
“At your peril do you wake a dragon.”

“Form up! On me!” Eir shouted as she drew back her bow and pointed the arrows toward the darkness.

Garm posted himself before her, black hackles jutting and eyes blazing. Rytlock sidled up on Eir’s right and Logan on her left. Caithe took her place just behind Eir, ready with her daggers, and Big Snaff and Big Zojja lumbered up to either side of the group.

The companions stood, ready to attack, but they couldn’t see the dragon—only claws the size of the asura and enormous eyes floating in the darkness.

The beast spoke again, her ancient voice rattling through them.
“I know why you have come.”

“We’ve come to stop your master from rising,” Eir responded.

A laugh answered, quiet but shaking the sanctuary:
“You cannot stop it.”

“But we
can
kill you!” Rytlock roared, charging with Sohothin raised.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, crystalline scales and fangs and claws burst from the colonnade and smashed into Rytlock and his companions, hurling them down. Eir hadn’t even time to loose her arrows before the beast’s rocklike head struck her and Garm and threw them across the floor. Logan swung his hammer against the massive shoulder of the beast in the moment before it flung him to the floor. The dragon bashed against Big Zojja and Big Snaff, who toppled and crashed to their backs. Only Caithe escaped the dragon’s assault, flattening herself as the wyrm rushed by overhead.

Destiny’s Edge skidded like toys across the floor.

Gigantic wings grasped the air. Glint wheeled within her sanctuary and landed on the other side. Before her, the companions lay stunned and gasping. Glint towered over them. Her head was mantled in crystalline spikes, sharper than swords, and her body was a mass of muscle and scale. Each leg was as wide as a millennial oak, and each foot was tipped in razor claws. Most horrible of all were her wings—stretching from one side of the sanctum to the other.

“Form up!” Eir shouted as she staggered to her feet.

Her friends struggled to gather.

Glint reared on her hind legs and roared. The sound solidified the air.

The companions fell again.

Only Eir remained standing, gripping her ears to block out the roar. As soon as the dragon’s shriek ended, Eir snagged three new arrows from her quiver and nocked them and drew back her bow. These were explosive charges, designed to pierce dragon armor. “You will not raise your master!”

Glint’s eyes flashed fury, and her front legs pounded the floor. She stalked forward, claws scoring the marble at her feet. “I have no wish to raise him.”

Eir’s hand didn’t waver, but neither did she shoot. “You can’t deceive me, serpent!”

“
I
can’t—but a wretch from the Nightmare Court
can
?” asked Glint.

Eir’s bow trembled as the dragon stalked toward her.
“We kill dragon champions!”

The dragon halted, gazing at the explosive arrows aimed at her eye. “Soon, you will get a chance to kill a true dragon.” With a sudden lash of her tail, she batted the bow and arrows away. They skidded out of reach.

Eir’s hands trembled, numb, but she remained standing.

“How little you remember,” growled Glint. “How little you know.”

“We know who
you
are!”

“Do you?” roared the dragon, rearing up and spreading her wings through the vault. “I am Glint, Keeper of the Flameseeker Prophecies, Protector of the Forgotten, Foe of the Lich Lord, and Downfall of the Titans! Three thousand years ago, I was set here as a guardian of the world. Three hundred years ago, I welcomed heroes such as yourselves, hailing them as the Chosen who would destroy the titans and save the world. But did they remember? Did not the very heroes that I sent return to battle me again? And now
you
come to slay
me
?”

“Do you know who
we
are?” Eir shouted back. “We are Destiny’s Edge, Slayers of the Dragonspawn, Ruination of Morgus Lethe, Damnation of the Destroyer of Life. We have crippled Jormag and Zhaitan and Primordus in their very lairs, and we will not stand aside while you raise yet another Elder Dragon to ravage the world!”

“I know who you are, Eir Stegalkin.” Glint dropped her foreclaws to the floor again and stared into Eir’s eyes. “I know the fight you have fought and the damage you have done to dragonkind. More, I know the fight that is ahead of you, and your vanishing hope of success.”

“We
will
succeed!”

“
If
you stand together, you will,” Glint said, watching as the other members of Destiny’s Edge straggled to gather around Eir. “All seven of you, if you stand together—you can win.”

Eir stared unblinking into the eye of the dragon while her comrades formed up around her. “Why would you tell us this?”

“Because your battle is not against me. As before, I am your ally.”

“
You
would help us stop the dragonrise?”

“No one can stop it. But I will fight beside you against my master.”

“Tell us his name!”

The dragon’s massive eyes slowly slid closed, then opened again to focus on Eir. “His name is Kralkatorrik.”

The name crackled through the air, as if it were crystallizing.

“Why would you fight against your very master?”

Glint nodded in thought and turned away. Her voice sounded ancient and hollow. “Long ago, I lived in a dragon-dominated world. I saw how they feasted on all flesh, on all minds, on all life. I saw how they ate until there was nothing left to eat, and then fell, sated. The darkness of those days slowly gave way to a new dawn—a bright world that did not remember the rapacious beasts. From that time to this, I have feared one of those sleeping dragons. My master, Kralkatorrik.