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“I know,” Rytlock replied with a laugh. “I’ve seen your brother.”

Logan nodded, tucking the pendant between his breastplate and his chest. “Thanks. I want you to have something, too.”

“What is it?”

Logan untied the silken scarf that Queen Jennah had given him. “You saw the day I got this.”

“Yeah,” Rytlock said heavily. “You killed Racogorrix that day.”

“I fought for the queen that day.” Logan handed the scarf to Rytlock. “You know how much she means to me, but I want you to have this.”

The charr lifted his claws away. “I can’t take that.”

“Damned charr! Don’t you know how to receive a gift?”

Reluctantly, Rytlock took the emblem from his friend’s hand. He looked for a place to tie it—armor? hackle? horn? At last, he tied it to his sword belt. “Thank you.” He looked around, seeing the rest of the group stare at him. Clapping his claws together, he said, “All right now. How much longer to this lair? I’m ready to kill a Dragonspawn.”

INTO THE LAIR

Eir and her companions stood atop a frozen ridge and gazed down at the lair of the Dragonspawn. The wide cave mouth was fronted by rows of jagged ice, standing like fangs or horns in terrible clusters.

“You never told us about that,” Rytlock pointed out. He patted the hilt of Sohothin. “Lucky for us, I brought an ice cutter.”

Eir shook her head. “We can’t go through it. It’ll be filled with icebrood. We’ll have to go over it.”

Rytlock turned to her quizzically.

She smiled and said, “Avalanche.”

Logan frowned. “Conditions have to be just right.”

“He should know,” Rytlock snarled in remembrance. “Guy specializes in rockslides.” Under his breath, he added, “Jerk.”

“I think we have exactly the right conditions,” Eir said cryptically.

Just then, Big Zojja pounded up behind the others, her footfalls cracking the ice they stood on. From the cockpit within, Little Zojja piped up, “Right conditions for what?”

The ground trembled again as Sandy thundered to the top of the ridge.

“What’d I miss?” asked Snaff, who stomped to a halt between Sandy’s ears. “Sorry I lagged a bit. Set off a little avalanche back there.”

Eir’s smile broadened. “I brought along a pair of avalanche machines.”

Caithe gestured along the rim of the valley, where a thick snowpack clung. “That ridge ahead should do the trick.”

“Perfect,” Eir said.

“Perfect for what?” Snaff and Zojja chorused.

Eir reached up to Sandy’s head and lowered Snaff to the ground. “Can Zojja drive that thing from a distance?”

“Sure,” Snaff said, “as long as she has the laurel.”

“Come on out, Zojja,” Eir commanded.

The windscreen on the cockpit cranked open, and after buckles clanged loose, Zojja emerged and climbed down the golem’s leg. “What do you want?”

Eir said, “I want you and Snaff to march your golems on ahead to trigger an avalanche—one that’ll sweep down over those defense works and bury them.”

Snaff’s eyes lit. “That’ll be fun!” He began pumping his arms and stomping his feet, and Sandy marched excitedly away across the ridge.

Zojja glowered like a teenager watching her father dance. “You’re enjoying this too much.” Reluctantly she began marching as well, and Big Zojja pounded out after Sandy.

The two golems had crossed about a quarter mile of icy ridge before anything happened—but it happened all at once.

A thunderous boom! shook the ice, and a crack shot like black lightning along the ridge. The whole face of the ridge broke free. It slid down as one thick ice sheet, grating over the cliff face. A network of cracks raced through the ice, and it shattered into huge boulders. They stampeded down the side of the mountain and swarmed over the labyrinth. House-size ice chunks flattened the defensive works. Walls smashed and spikes shattered. Whatever icebrood might have lurked in those defenses were crushed. Hundreds of thousands of tons of ice wiped the barriers from the world.

“Perfect!” Rytlock said.

“Not quite,” Eir replied, pointing toward the ridge.

Sandy had had one foot on either side of the crack when it gave way, and now the sand golem