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“Half a mile back,” Rytlock huffed, glancing over his shoulder. “We’ve got—what?—a minute?”

“Just keep running.”

The three did for the first forty seconds, rushing side by side across the grasslands while hyenas bounded after.

“I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you,” Rytlock snapped.

“You wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d left Ascalon to us,” Logan replied.

The hyenas were snapping at their heels.

Rytlock drew Sohothin and backhanded two of the beasts right behind him. They squealed and fell away.

Another peal from the ogre horn announced that the brutes had sighted their quarry. The ground shook with the footfalls of the ogres.

Logan hoisted his war hammer. “We have to turn and fight. The hyenas will drag us down.”

“No! Just keep running!” Caithe shouted.

“What’s the point?” cried Rytlock. “You got some secret fortress hidden in your pocket?”

“Yes!” Caithe said, suddenly dropping away into a narrow cleft in the ground.

Eyes wide, Logan ran up on the same cleft and skidded to a halt in front of it. The steep crevice plunged away into unseeable depths, and the sylvari had vanished into it.

“Look out!” Rytlock shouted, running a hyena through with his flaming sword.

“Thanks,” Logan replied, pulping the head of another.

As they fought the snarling beasts, both warriors backed toward the deep crevice.

“You think she did that on purpose?” Logan asked, mowing down another hyena.

“Of course!” Rytlock growled through clenched teeth. “She’s sylvari!”

More hyenas converged out of the grasses, their fangs snarling.

“I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt,” Logan said as he leaped into the gap, sliding away between walls of stone.

Rytlock rolled his eyes and killed another hyena. “I’m not going to be outdone by a human and a twig.” He sheathed Sohothin and jumped down the crevice, too.

HEADS OF THE MILITARY

Eir stepped back from carving another huge basalt head. It showed Snaff’s face—the quirky rumple of his brow mirrored below in a slight smirking lip, the wide and happy eyes, the long nose, and those ears like milkweed pods.

“How do I look?” Snaff asked, posing nearby.

Pacing across the stone chips that littered the floor of Snaff’s laboratory, Eir said, “You look good.”

“Good?” Snaff said dejectedly. “Not dashing?”

“I’ve never seen you dash. . . .”

“How about brave?”

“Sure,” Eir said as she brushed rock dust from her hands. “Brave.”

Snaff waddled up beside her and stared at his likeness. A smile crept onto his face, and he said, “Brave.”

“Well, that does it for the second head,” Eir said. “What about the body?”

“Oh! Zojja’s been working hard on my design,” Snaff said enthusiastically. He grasped the norn’s hand and led her over to a short drafting table covered with sketches. All showed a spherical cage with a leather harness suspended within. “The cage is for protection, of course, like your rib cage, because inside it is where the driver will be suspended. These straps will hold the person secure within the center of the cage, with side straps to stabilize in case the golem falls over.”

“Ouch,” Eir said.

Snaff nodded. “Yes, and you see that there’s plenty of clearance for flailing arms and legs.”

“Show me how far we are.”

Snaff led Eir to the worktables that held the metal golems. From the belly of Big Zojja, a blinding light flashed, and acrid smoke whiffed into the air. The light ceased, and Zojja’s head popped from the opening, her hair slightly singed. She set smoking hands on the golem fuselage.

“Have you been welding by hand again?” Snaff asked.

“It’s fastest,” Zojja said dismissively. “But I’ve got to make sure my eyes are shut.”

“How are the cockpits coming?” Snaff went on.

“Nearly done. Both are welded to the frame. Then you can hang your rigs.”

“Ingenious,” Eir marveled.

Zojja huffed. “Only if you trust metal over magic.”

“Eir,” Snaff interrupted, “I don’t think I’ve shown you the laurels. . . .”

“Wait,” Eir said, staring at Zojja. “What did you say?”

“I said I don’t know why the two of you are putting