Guild Wars: Ghosts of Ascalon (39 page)

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said Dougal. “You know that.”

Riona came at him, whipping the ungue around as she charged. Dougal realized that some of the bloody scratches were not from Ember but from the Claw itself. Riona was an amateur with the blade, and could injure herself just as easily as she could wound him. Yet, she could not drop it to pull her own sword.

Dougal countered her attack with a flurry of blows, but try as he might, he could not find a way past the Claw’s four blades. While Riona might not know how to handle an ungue, Dougal stood before her beaten and exhausted, the blood from his fingers making his blade hard to handle. She’d always been the better soldier, and that edge proved enough to keep him from hurting her.

Dougal backed up again, giving himself some more room from the Claw’s blades and hoping that Riona might trip on the uneven paving stones when coming after him.

The blades of the Claw flashed at him again and again, and it was all he could do to mount a decent defense against them. Every time he thought he might see a space for a counterattack, Riona closed it in an instant. Sometimes this meant cutting her own flesh with one of the other blades, but she didn’t seem to care. He kept backing up slowly, buying himself time with space, circling as he moved, putting her between the pit and himself.

“Just walk away, Dougal!” Riona looked straight into his eyes. “I’ll let you go for old time’s sake. I’m taking the Claw either way. You don’t have to die.” She launched herself at him. Dougal turned just in time to parry her attack. One of the Claw’s blades got past his guard and ripped a shallow channel in his leg.

Furiously, Riona pressed the attack, slicing and stabbing at Dougal with abandon. He stumbled backward over the stones, deflecting the most lethal of her blows. She was forcing him to move now, spinning him so his back was to the pit and his form was framed in the light of the Foefire.

He was the perfect target, which is what he wanted to be.

Riona let out a guttural cry that might have been
a curse or a threat or a prayer, and charged him, her blades lashing out and laying open his left shoulder. That’s when Dougal struck, despite the pain, at Riona’s heart. She managed to half parry the blow, and it slashed through her side rather than into her chest.

But, more importantly, she had to twist to ward off the blow, and her own charge carried her forward, to the edge of the pit. She slashed again at Dougal, and he raised his blade again, piercing Riona’s chest through its chain links halfway up the blade’s length.

Riona’s eyes went wide with the shock, and she began to pitch backward, Dougal’s name on her bloody lips, his sword still lodged in her chest.

Dougal let go of his sword and reached beyond the length of the blade. He grabbed the Claw of the Khan-Ur from Riona’s tightly locked fingers and pulled. The Claw came free, but Riona kept arching backward, back into the pit.

She fell without making a sound, disappearing into the light. Dougal did not hear her land.

Dougal sat on the edge of the pit, breathing deeply, clutching the ungue. His shoulder wept blood, and tears streamed down his face.

A deep chuffing noise behind him shocked him and told him Ember had not fully given up the fight. He staggered over and slapped his pockets, at last finding the potion that Kranxx had given him. He rolled Ember onto her back and poured the liquid between her lips, then took a swig himself. It tasted like concentrated cranberry syrup, but he could feel a warmth in his leg and shoulder, a tingling as the damaged flesh tried to knit itself together.

He poured the remaining potion down the charr’s throat, and Ember let out a long coughing jag, then rolled over and vomited bits of her own flesh. She touched the skin beneath her slashed belly armor to make sure her flesh was solid.

“The traitor …” spat Ember.

“Dead,” said Dougal, and looked over at the pit. “I’m going to need a new sword. Again.”

Ember growled and nodded, then said, “What about you, Dougal Keane?”

“What
about
me?” Despite the potion, Dougal ached, and knew that, if it came to it, he could not fight a charr one-on-one.

“Are you going to return with me to the Vigil, and give the Claw of the Khan-Ur to Almorra Soulkeeper?” The charr’s words sounded hostile but she looked concerned.

Dougal could not guess what the charr was thinking but slowly nodded. “I’d like to do that.”

A toothy smile spread over Ember’s face. “Good. Even with your kindness of a healing draught, I am in no shape to fight you.”

“So you
do
want to go back …” said Dougal.

“Of course,” said Ember. “I do not think I could face my grandmother empty-handed.”

“Grandmother?” Dougal was startled. “Almorra is …”

“I have her eyes,” said Ember, smiling weakly. “Though my mother was Ash Legion. Don’t tell me that that is not obvious even to a human?”

There was a great shout from the far side of the courtyard, and both man and charr looked up, surprised. Gullik staggered into view.

“I don’t believe it,” muttered Ember.

“I do,” said Dougal.

The norn was pale, his massive form almost drained of life. Not an inch of his outfit was not shredded, and not an inch of his exposed flesh was not bleeding. His warrior’s braid was burned off to a charcoaled stump, and he was—as they were—covered with a thin coating of pulverized bone. But he was alive.

“By the Bear!” shouted the norn. “Did you kill them all without me? The asura did a wonderful thing, for his device gave me wings. I awoke in the remains of one of the houses and tried to find you.” He paused a moment, then admitted with a shrug, “I am afraid I got lost. I wasn’t paying much attention on the way in.”

Dougal wanted to hug the norn and lumbered forward, but Ember beat him to it, embracing the norn and slapping his back. Gullik winced but got his vengeance slapping the charr on the back as well.

“Where is he ?” said Gullik. “Where is that powerful asura?”

Dougal’s face fell, and Ember said, “He’s dead. Kranxx died defeating Adelbern.”

Gullik grew somber immediately. “I see. Did he die well?”

Dougal said, “It was a death worth a legendary tale.”

“One I would like very much to hear,” said Gullik softly. “And Riona?”

Dougal and Ember looked at each other, then Ember said, “She’s gone as well.”

Gullik lowered himself onto the ground. “I am afraid,” he said, “that I have to find less fragile friends.”

The three were silent for a moment in the heart of the dead city.

“Do you still have your satchel, norn?” asked Ember.

“Of course,” said Gullik, and shuffled the pack off one shoulder.

“We need to put something away,” said the charr, and Dougal hefted the Claw.

Gullik raised an eyebrow. “So this is what all the fuss was about? Was it worth the deaths of friends?”

“Nothing ever is,” said Dougal, “but since you have space in your satchel, there is a bag filled with platinum coins halfway down that pit, and more in a treasure room beyond. But we’d best be quick, before Adelbern re-forms his ghostly body and marshals his troops.”

Gullik rose to his feet. “Let him!” he snorted. “I will take out my rage against him in Kranxx’s name! Still”—and a smile played over his face—“the only thing better than returning from a city of the dead is to return from a city of the dead bearing great treasures. Down here, you say?” He walked to the edge of the pit.

Dougal laid the Claw in Gullik’s satchel. There was more than enough room for several more sacks. And he would have to scare up another sword as well. To Ember, he said, “He’s right, you know. It hardly looks like something worth all the worry.”

“How so?” asked Ember.

“I expected some legendary weapon, like Magdaer itself,” said Dougal. “Something all-powerful and magical. It’s just a gaudy toy.”

Ember made a chuffing noise that Dougal now knew to be laughter. “It is more than a weapon. It is a key—the key by which we will unlock the chance for peace between our peoples—and with
that,
a chance to defeat the Elder Dragons. It does not get more important than that.”

Dougal nodded and closed the bag over the Claw. “We still have to get back,” he said.

“We will assault that bridge when we get to it, Dougal Keane,” said the charr, and put a large paw on the human’s shoulder.

Gullik let out a cry. “Are you two old women going to swap tender lies, or are you going to help? Someone mentioned treasure down there, and if Adelbern is still around, I want to take his best tableware!”

The charr and human laughed, and together they walked to the pit’s edge. They had much yet to do.

M
ATT
F
ORBECK
has worked full-time on games and fiction since 1989 with many top companies, including Adams Media, AEG, Atari, Boom! Studios, Atlas Games, Del Rey, Games Workshop, Green Ronin, High Voltage Studios, Human Head Studios, IDW, Image Comics, Mattel, Pinnacle Entertainment Group, Playmates Toys, Simon & Schuster, Ubisoft, Wizards of the Coast, and WizKids. He has designed collectible card games, role-playing games, miniatures games, and board games, and has written short fiction, comic books, novels, nonfiction, magazine articles, and computer game scripts and stories. His work has been published in at least a dozen different languages. Projects Matt has worked on have been nominated for twenty-four Origins Awards and have won thirteen. He has also won five ENnies. He has written more than a dozen novels, including the
Locus
-bestselling
Blood Bowl
and the upcoming
Amortals
and
Vegas Knights
from Angry Robot. His novelization of the
Mutant Chronicles
film won a Scribe Award. He is a proud member of the Alliterates writers group, the International Association of Media Tie-In Writers, the International Thriller Writers, and the International
Game Developers Association. He lives in Beloit, Wisconsin, with his wife, Ann, and their children, Marty, Pat, Nick, Ken, and Helen.

J
EFF
G
RUBB
is an award-winning game designer and author. He is the co-creator of the
Forgotten Realms
and one of the co-founders of
Dragonlance
, and his novels include
Forgotten Realms: Azure Bonds
;
Dragonlance: Lord Toede
;
Magic: The Gathering: The Brothers’ War
;
Starcraft: Liberty’s Crusade
; and
World of Warcraft: The Last Guardian
. He builds worlds for a living, which is nice work if you can get it. He lives in Seattle with his wife and oft-times co-author, Kate Novak, and two supremely disinterested cats.