Guild Wars_ Edge of Destiny - J. Robert King [27]
“I hope you fall off the city!”
But the band navigated the bridges safely on their march to the center of town, heading for a particular asura gate.
Eir and Garm strode through, feeling the membrane of magic snap around them. The sultry air of Rata Sum gave way to the biting cold of Hoelbrak.
Of course, the asura gate had not been constructed with twenty-foot golems in mind, so Big Snaff had to crouch and nearly crawl to get through. The air rippled around him as he passed. “I hope the Dragonspawn has a bigger door.”
“If he doesn’t, you can make one,” Zojja replied as she shuffled through behind him.
Then they were all in Hoelbrak, standing on a cobbled way between tents and rough-hewn lodges. The bodies of the Bigs pinged and crackled as the metal contracted from cold. Standing at their full height, the golems could peer over the thatched rooftops, past the defensive bridges that ringed the settlement, and out to snow-covered tundra and ice-choked mountains.
“Out there is where the Dragonspawn is,” Zojja said grimly.
“Not much longer,” Snaff assured.
As the group marched down the lane, walls shuddered, thatch shivered, and norn came running out in all states of undress, bellowing and bearing weapons.
“What’s happening?”
“Earthquake?”
“Invasion?”
“For the love of Wolf—!”
“We’re being attacked!”
“Stop!” shouted Eir, lifting her hands to the crowd. “You are not being attacked. These magnificent creatures are fashioned to battle the Dragonspawn.”
A susurrus of shock moved through the crowd, and someone shouted, “Golems can’t do the work of norn warriors!”
“I am a norn warrior,” Eir said, “and I am doing this work. But let me ask you this—what becomes of norn who go to battle the Dragonspawn?”
The crowd sighed in frustration, and a nearby woman said, “The men return . . . as frozen icebrood. The women return . . . not at all.”
“Exactly. But we are warded by powerstone magic that will block his aura.” She tapped the gray stones that shone from the epaulets of her armor. “And these warriors of steel and stone cannot be corrupted by the Dragonspawn’s power. With these provisions, Garm and I and our metal allies will reach the inner sanctum of the Dragonspawn.
“And we will tear him apart.”
DEEP PLACES
As Rytlock dived into the crevice, he thought, Why am I following a pollen-brained sylvari?
A hyena nipped his heel.
Oh, yeah, that’s why.
Then there was no more time for thinking. Only plunging. And cursing.
Rytlock dropped through the narrow cleft and into a cavern. Below him, Logan and Caithe were tumbling into the darkness.
“Great idea!” Rytlock shouted. “Really flipping great!”
“I heard you the first time!” Caithe yelled.
Just then, there came a huge splash, and then a second, and then . . .
Ow! The water was hard. Rytlock smashed through the surface, and the flood closed over him. Bubbles chattered everywhere, but there wasn’t a gulp to breathe! He lashed his claws through the water—kicked and flailed (wasn’t this how humans swam?) but only sank.
Then the water above exploded again. Something else had just plunged into it, something that was now swimming toward the surface. Rytlock grabbed on to the thing and let it lift him. He reached the air and gasped.
The thing yipped and giggled. A hyena.
“A hyena,” Rytlock snarled. “Who knew they floated?”
“Rytlock!” Logan shouted.
“Yeah?”
“There’s hyenas in the water!” Logan warned. “Just killed one.”
“Got one of my own.”
“Snap its neck!”
“Do they float when they’re dead?”
There was silence. “How would I know?”
“You just killed one. Did it float?”
“I didn’t hold on to it!”
Just then, a thud and a splash told of another hyena’s arrival. In moments, it, too, was gasping at the surface. When it heard the struggles of its packmate, it swam toward Rytlock.
“Ah, good,” Rytlock said. “This one was getting tired. . . . Hello.”
The scavenger lunged for Rytlock, but he bashed it back, grasped it around the midsection,