Guild Wars_ Edge of Destiny - J. Robert King [63]
Meanwhile, the asura apprentice flung the powerstone laurel to her master. He donned it somewhat dizzily.
From the sands, the huge golem mounded up, taking shape again and hulking to its feet. As the asura puppet master marched in place, the sand golem lumbered toward Caithe.
“No!” Logan roared, and ran toward the golemancer.
The sand golem meanwhile snatched up Caithe in one fat fist.
Logan was ten feet from the golemancer when another bolt of blue blasted into him and hurled him back.
He crashed over the sands only to have sands crash over him: the sandy fist. That damned golem clutched him in one hand and clutched Caithe in the other and ran toward Rytlock.
Rytlock turned to escape, but the wolf lunged against his back and knocked him down.
Next moment, the lumbering golem arrived and slumped down, burying Rytlock to his chest.
There was a moment of stunned silence in the arena as the norn warrior strode back to join her battle-scarred wolf and the two asura geniuses.
Then all eyes shifted to Edge of Steel, buried in sand.
The crowd erupted. Every voice shouted, every hand clapped, and the roar of it all evolved into the cry “Des-ti-ny! Des-ti-ny! Des-ti-ny!”
In the infirmary beneath the arena, the two gladiatorial teams met once again. Chirurgeons tended Garm’s many claw wounds and Rytlock’s many bite marks; they set Eir’s broken ribs and Snaff’s dislocated shoulder. But most of all, they kept Edge of Steel from murdering Dragonspawn’s Destiny.
Rytlock roared, “You hid a golem in the arena!”
“We’re golemancers,” Snaff replied. “What did you think we were going to do? Stand there and get slaughtered?”
“Actually, yes.”
Eir gasped as the chirurgeon set plaster to her bruised side. “Then you failed to plan.”
“Of course we didn’t plan,” Rytlock snarled. “We’re fighters, not engineers.”
“Which is why you need us,” Zojja put in.
“We don’t need anybody,” Rytlock spat.
“We defeated you,” Eir said. “You’re not invincible. But together, we can be.”
“Why would we ever join you?”
“Because we own you now,” Eir said. “We made a bet with Captain Magnus the Bloody Handed, and we won your billet.”
Rytlock convulsed, his claws raking out and narrowly missing his chirurgeons. “Damn it!”
“You have no choice,” Eir said coolly. “You will go with us to fight the Dragonspawn.”
Rytlock was trembling with fury, unable to speak.
Logan set a hand on his shoulder. “She’s right. Trick or no trick, we’ve got to go.”
Snaff winced as a chirurgeon set a hot towel on his shoulder. “The fact is, you three aren’t gladiators.”
“Aren’t we?” barked Rytlock.
Snaff shook his head. “Of course not. You’re heroes. You don’t need to fight trumped-up battles against prearranged foes.” He looked around at the stone ceiling. “You should be out beneath the sky, fighting real monsters.”
Rytlock, Logan, and Caithe looked at each other, unsure what to say.
Snaff sighed. “We went after you because you were the heroes we needed. We set this whole thing up, crossed continents, designed golems, bet with our own lives to win your billet and to win you to our side. Yes, we can force you to join us, but we don’t want henchmen. We want heroes.”
Again, the members of Edge of Steel traded glances.
At last, Logan spoke for them all. “Tell us about the lair of the Dragonspawn.”
From Her Royal Majesty, Jennah,
Queen of Kryta,
Regent of Ascalon
To Logan Thackeray
Greetings:
I have received word that you and your comrades are leaving the arena to go on a quest. Congratulations. I always felt that your courage was wasted on gladiators: you were meant for greater things.
But I fear that this quest is beyond even a hero such as yourself. Dragon champions are not to be trifled with. They are of themselves tremendously powerful, but they also tap into the inexhaustible power of their lords, the Elder Dragons.