Guild Wars_ Edge of Destiny - J. Robert King [99]
From Zojja—Snaff describing the defeat of the Dragonspawn, his eyes aglow and his hands gesturing to a ring of norn admirers.
From Snaff—Eir with hair drawn back and arms speckled with sweat and rock dust flying as she carved a perfect likeness of him.
From Logan—Caithe single-handedly bringing down the mast of a rotten ship and swinging away from undead.
From Rytlock—Logan mowing down undead.
From Zojja—Rytlock lifting a tankard.
From Caithe—Eir laughing at a joke.
From Garm—guarding them all.
And suddenly, they were through.
The sun-baked defile was behind them, and the companions stood on the edge of a great sand sea.
“We made it through,” Caithe said. “She couldn’t drive us away.”
Eir shook her head. “You’re right, Caithe. She couldn’t drive us away, but she could drive wedges between us. We’ll never defeat her unless we fight as one.” Eir looked around at her companions. “I know you heard some unsavory things from me, but you must understand that I’ve hand-selected each of you. I trust each of you—all of you—with my life.”
Her companions nodded, looking down at the sands.
“Damn it!” Rytlock spat. He turned and clapped Logan on the back. “Sorry about some of those things I thought.”
“It’s fine,” Logan assured him. “And sorry about that whole thing about being a monster.”
Rytlock laughed. “I kind of liked that.”
As the two Bigs ground along, side by side, Snaff spoke through the tube, “You really are a genius, you know.”
“Yes,” Zojja replied. “I know.”
“You’ll be your own master any day now.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Okay, I won’t,” Snaff replied in a tinny voice. “But I will think it. You’re ready for it. I’m just selfish. Where am I going to find another apprentice like you?”
Eir meanwhile turned to Caithe and said, “You didn’t share a single unkind thought toward any of us.”
“I don’t have a single unkind thought toward you. If I did, I’d say it.”
“I suppose you would,” Eir said with a laugh. She looked out on the rolling sand dunes that stretched forever into the distance. “Now, where is this dragon sanctum?”
“It’s hidden in a crystal of sand,” Logan said. “But how do we find it?”
“Yeah,” Eir said. “I’m glad you can’t hear what I’m thinking.”
Big Zojja strode up and clanked to a stop, and a metallic voice came from within. “I can find it.”
The others looked at the golem in amazement, and Eir said, “How?”
“Scan for magic.” Zojja said. “Glint is incredibly powerful. She could not completely hide her magical signature. I can use the cockpit cage as an antenna of sorts. Tune it to magical frequencies.” Big Zojja began walking out into the vast desert.
Eir looked askance at Big Snaff. “Really?”
The golem seemed to shrug, then waddled out after Big Zojja.
Eir nodded, took a swig of water from her canteen, and followed, as did the rest of the companions.
The companions wandered beneath the staring eye of the sun, following Big Zojja, as Little Zojja used her cockpit cage to pick up a telltale tendril of magic. She always proclaimed that the sanctum was before them, but twice they crossed their own trail. Never did they find that one grain of sand that held the sanctum of Glint.
Big Zojja trudged up a hill. Her ankle joints made an agonized hiss, ball sockets crisscrossed with score marks from the sand. The golem planted its feet wide and settled into position. Steam jetted from a pair of air locks on its shoulders, and the blast shield on the torso cockpit creaked open. “Ah! Cool air!” came the voice from within. Straps were unsnapped and buckles unbuckled, and Little Zojja jumped down amid the others. “It’s hot in there.”
Exhausted and sunburned, Eir trudged to the top of a dune, dropped to her knees, and lay on the still-warm sands. “This is as good a place as any.”
Zojja quietly approached. “It’s close by.”
“You’ve said that all day,” Rytlock noted as he, too, collapsed to the sands.
Logan trudged up, yanked off one boot, and poured a mound of sand