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At a run, the invaders launched themselves up the next throat of stone and ran on through the hall where the ice giants had died. The ceiling was cracking apart, spilling sunlight across the broken figures below. The cracks spread down the walls, and great hunks of ice caved inward. Massive blocks pounded down all around them.

Speed was the thing, and Rytlock, Eir, and Logan poured it on. Caithe struggled to keep up, but Garm snatched her up and hurled her onto his back.

A house-size hunk of ice plunged from above them.

The dire wolf’s claws skittered on the icy floor as he struggled to outrun the block.

Boom! The slab staved the floor right behind Garm. A black line snaked after him, splitting the ice at his paws.

With a yelp, he dodged away from the opening rift, following Rytlock, Eir, and Logan through the chamber of the ice bats. A few more bounds brought them out of the collapsing cavern and into the spanking sunlight of the glacier. Still, they ran, rushing beyond the avalanche zone until they could stand on scoured bedrock. Only then did they turn to look at what they’d wrought.

Behind them, the lair of the Dragonspawn imploded. The ceiling fell in, and millions of tons of ice buried the horrors that lay below. The roar of it—the earth-shattering roar of it—was like a deafening ovation.

The Dragonspawn was gone.

The Dragonspawn and a thousand of the icebrood were destroyed.

Logan whooped, “How’s that for a job well done?”

“It’s not done yet,” Zojja said, nodding toward Rytlock, who set down Snaff.

“Snaff,” Rytlock said, staring into the golemancer’s eyes. “Snaff. Snap out of it!”

Snaff reached numbly to the golden laurel that encircled his head and drew it off. The red powerstones in it flashed and then faded to darkness. He blinked at Rytlock. “That hurt.”

“Guess it was kind of a rough ride.”

“Not that,” Snaff said in a weary voice. “Getting crushed by a glacier.”

Eir laughed. “You did it, though, you know? You destroyed the Dragonspawn.”

“No.” Snaff shook his head, looking around at them all and smiling weakly. “We did it.”

“They did it!” shouted the crier in the marketplace of Hoelbrak. “Destiny’s Edge destroyed the Dragonspawn! They slew a thousand of the icebrood!”

As Eir and her friends marched proudly into Hoelbrak, norn warriors gathered along the central way to stand at attention. Bakers and brewers and weavers brought loaves of bread and barrels of ale and robes of wool. Towering hunters and rangers stood shoulder to shoulder and cheered as the band passed through their midst. Norn children—as tall as Logan but wide-eyed and young—pushed through the crowd to gawk in awe as the famous warriors passed, then darted through back alleys to take up new positions and stand in awe again. After squeezing in a third time, the children ran off to empty fields where they made believe they were the slayers of the Dragonspawn. The girls argued over which was Eir and Caithe (and Zojja), and the boys fought over who was Rytlock and Logan and Snaff (and Garm).

But the one who seemed most appreciative of all was Knut Whitebear. He waited for the honorees outside the hunting hall, flanked on both sides by the Wolfborn. A smile lurked within Knut’s braided beard, and his eyes sparkled like flecks from a glacier. As Eir and her friends approached, Knut lifted arms mantled in white bearskin and said, “Welcome home, daughter of Hoelbrak, daughter of the norn.” He stepped forward, unfolding an ermine cloak.

Eir knelt so that he could set the cloak on her shoulders.

“You who once were outcast have returned to us victorious, as a norn should. Well done. You and your friends”—he paused to look at each of them—“are welcome now and forever in Hoelbrak.”

The crowd cheered, and Knut Whitebear clasped Eir’s hand and raised it overhead.

She shot him a fierce look. “You should not have doubted me.”

He grinned, not looking at her. “I did not doubt you. I doubted that anyone could do what you set out to do.”

“I have greater things I will do.”

“I hoped