Guild Wars_ Ghosts of Ascalon - Matt Forbeck [61]
“I trust you too,” said Dougal. “And this will pass. No matter what that Kranxx says, Soulkeeper’s plan is a good one. We will get the Claw. Together. Promise.”
They stood there for a long moment, and Dougal realized he had forgotten about Killeen talking to the guards. When he turned, Riona was still in his arms and the sylvari was heading toward them, raising her hood again. The guards were wandering back the way they had come from.
“Are we ready?” asked Killeen.
“I think so,” said Dougal. Riona separated from him and nodded. They started down the steps.
“I had a curious chat with the guards,” said Killeen. “It is interesting what people will tell you when you look at them with wide eyes and act like you just fell out of the tree. Apparently the siege has been quiet for the past few months: no new assaults from the charr lines. And, more interestingly, a moratorium on this side from sallies and patrols. They say some bigwigs made the decision.”
“The truce faction,” said Dougal, “and the queen.”
“Yes,” said Killeen, “but it is making everyone here very, very nervous. They are expecting some huge charr assault, and a lot of the human soldiers want to attack now, before it comes.”
“You took a huge risk,” said Riona. “They could have been looking for us.”
“Everyone saw the charr; most would remember the norn,” said Killeen. “Very few would pay attention to the sylvari in a cloak.”
“How did you explain us?” asked Dougal. They were already at the door of the warehouse.
“I told them you were young lovers making a rendezvous,” said Killeen, “and acted like I did not know what that meant. They thought that was amusing as well.”
By the time they had gotten back to the secret warehouse, the others were ready. Kranxx was packing a backpack with numerous small parcels carefully wrapped in waterproof waxed paper. Ember was fitting herself into the armor Gullik had been carrying on his back: sleek, black lacquered plates that glided silently over each other. For his part, Gullik was stroking his scruffy chin and, for the first time, seemed to be deep in thought. Riona picked up her helmet and quickly strapped on her scabbard.
“We’re late,” said Kranxx, hoisting the satchel onto his back and grabbing a loose piece of cloth that, only when he put it on his wide head, was recognizable as a hat. He pulled out a small lantern and lit it.
“You’re in your armor,” Riona said to Ember firmly.
“Kranxx pointed out that if we are spotted, whether I am wearing armor or not is a moot point,” replied the charr, adjusting her scabbard and resting a hand on a heavy charr-made pistol on her opposite hip.
“At least have Gullik carry your weapons,” said Riona. “And wear the shackles.”
Anger flashed in Ember’s eyes, and Dougal added, “At least until we’re clear of the city.”
Ember looked at Dougal. Dougal nodded toward Riona. Letting the air out in a long, hissing breath, Ember unfastened her belt and handed it, scabbard, sword, and holstered pistol to the norn. Then she held up her wrists once more. Gullik fished out the chains and Riona fitted them, loosely but locked, once more on her wrists and neck.
“Until we’re clear of the city,” said Ember, looking harshly at Dougal.
Kranxx poked his head through the door, then motioned for the others to follow. It was almost light now, the eastern sky reddening and drawing back the widow’s veil that had hung protectively on Ebonhawke.
Then something exploded off to the north, just beyond the first wall. Screams and shouts sounded right after, and a call to arms went up among the Vanguard. Kranxx’s letter of resignation.
Quickly but not panicked, the asura ducked into the mouth of an alley, then hustled everyone in after him. They huddled there in the darkness as a column of soldiers in black-and-gold uniforms tromped past, racing from their barracks to the (hopefully) now-burning shop.
Dougal watched the faces of the soldiers as they passed their hiding place: grim, weary,