Guild Wars_ Ghosts of Ascalon - Matt Forbeck [107]
There was another light up ahead, this one the color of flames. As they closed, it resolved into two, then four, then a dozen different fires, all contained within great iron foundries.
“Irondock,” said Ember, identifying the place. “It is one of our weapons foundries. It runs all day and night. Hang to the far bank.”
Gullik proved to be a subtle and deft rower, and moved the shallow-drafted skiff to the left side of the lake and through a narrow passage. Now they could hear the clanging of anvils and the roar of forges across the water, combined with the snarling shouts of the overseers.
The lake narrowed and they could see the docks, metal-shod boats bobbing at the quay. Then Gullik passed them as well, and they were around a rock outcropping and turned back toward the north.
“You are making weapons,” said Riona quietly.
“Aye,” said Ember. “Even if there is peace with the humans and Ebonhawke, the legions have no end of enemies. Ghosts, Flame Legion, ogres, grawl …”
“And dragons,” added Dougal.
“And dragons,” agreed Ember, although in the darkness Dougal could not see the look on the charr’s face.
Now the glow to the north resolved itself more clearly. It was not a reflection of the racing moon but a brilliant radiance with its own source. As they cleared the channel and the terrain opened up to the north, Dougal could see it more fully and recognized it.
It was a single ray of brilliant white light reaching to the heavens, raised like a sword over the northern darkness. And like a blade it cut Dougal to the heart, for at its base was the center of the Foefire.
In its distant light, Dougal could see the faces of the others. Ember was familiar with the sight and was unimpressed, but Riona and Kranxx stared at the beacon on the horizon. Even Gullik, reliable rower that he had been, stopped his labors and stared at it, openmouthed, before recovering himself and resuming his regular strokes.
The lake was shallower now, and Dougal was touching bottom with his pole more often than not. Trees started to appear at the shores: long-limbed mangroves fluttering with bats and nightswallows. Finally the water became marsh, which became land solid enough to walk upon. Ember pointed to an outcropping on the northern shore, and Gullik pulled the boat up on the thick mud. Ember started up the bank, and the others followed, although Dougal now knew the land well.
The northern horizon had changed, limned by the power of the Foefire’s heart. It was now an irregular shadow, angular and blocky. The remains of Ascalon City itself.
At the top of the bank was a broad road, and after waiting a few moments the group skittered across it, avoiding any charr patrols. Only when they were on the northern side of the road did Ember react and make for one of the low hills overlooking the city in shadows. They climbed to the top, where they came upon the petrified remains of several great poles that had stood, undisturbed, for two centuries.
“The Viewing Hill,” said Dougal, knowing it from the tale. “This was where Fireburn watched the Foefire.”
“Yes,” said Ember, “and here I complete my task and my knowledge fails me. We’re going to need your knowledge of the city, come morning.”
“And until dawn?” asked Dougal.
“We wait,” said the charr.
They were close enough to the city now that there was little danger of charr patrols, but still beyond the city walls, and there was little risk of ghosts. Dougal could see the spires of the broken towers of the city, dimly lit by the brilliance of the Foefire. It looked like a ghost city, the perfect home for the dead. About an hour after they arrived, a bank of clouds moved in from the west, capturing the moon and overtaking the skyblade of the Foefire. The light from the heart of the curse splashed against the bottom of the clouds.
Now that they stood on the edge of the city, the group was uneasy. Rest would be good,