Faolain stared long, drawing a deep breath. "I will take it," she said aloud, but then added, "It is not over between you and me."
Faolain's black eyes grew wide, and her mouth twisted. She lunged forward, once again gripping Caithe's heart. Nails sank into Caithe's flesh and drew out beads of blood. The black infection drifted beneath Caithe's skin, coalescing around Faolain's fingertips. Then, like needles, her nails drew the blackness into them. Tendrils of corruption reached up through Faolain's fingers and across the back of her hand and into her wrist and up her arm.
Faolain yanked her hand free. Black rot riddled her fingers, ascending through her arm. She flexed the limb, hissing with exquisite pain. "Oh, love turned to hate, to poison. It deadens me." She staggered back from the workbench, nearly running into Rytlock.
The charr waved Sohothin behind her. "Remember this?"
"Let me go! I have released her!"
"Yes," said Caithe, sitting up. "Let her go!"
"She's a monster."
"Let her go!"
Faolain stooped to lift her black cloak from the floor. She slid her rot-riddled hand into it and stepped past Rytlock. "This, too, will heal. My arm will be mine again." She glanced at Caithe. "And so will you."
"Get out!" Rytlock roared.
Faolain was visibly shivering as she walked up the stairs, out the blasted top of the ziggurat, and into the night of Rata Sum.
Logan lingered on the stairs, watching, but the rest of the companions gathered around Caithe.
"Are you well?" Eir asked. "Truly?"
"Yes. And I know what we must do."
"What?" asked Rytlock.
"A great evil is rising. An ancient evil. We haven't fought the true evil yet, but only the mortal champions. Now we must fight a true dragon. He is rising. His champion is bringing him out."
"Faolain showed you this?" Rytlock asked. "Surely she was lying."
"There is only one hope to stop this new threat: we must slay the dragon's champion."
Rytlock shrugged. "Well, we've killed the others. Why not this one?"
"What is this champion called?" asked Eir.
"She's another dragon-a lesser dragon," Caithe said, "though ancient in her own right. Humans call her Glint."
"Glint!" Logan said. "The Glint? Keeper of the Flame-seeker Prophecies?"
"The same," Caithe said.
"Are you kidding me? She helped stop the Lich Lord. She helped stop the titans," Logan went on. "Why would she turn against us?"
Caithe looked levelly at him. "Glint is the champion of the one who rises."
"Glint is a friend of humanity," Logan argued.
"Very few of us are human," said Zojja.
Logan said nothing, but after a moment he nodded.
"Glint is in the Crystal Desert," Rytlock grumbled. "That's a long walk."
"There's no time to walk," Caithe said. "We must arrive in a matter of days."
Snaff snapped his fingers and trundled off across his workshop.
"Where's he going?" Rytlock wondered.
Over his shoulder, Snaff called back, "I've got a device that could get us halfway there!" He disappeared into a closet, and there came the sound of clattering metal. Something heavy crashed to the floor; then Snaff emerged, seeming to carry nothing except a smile. "It's one of the cleverest things I've come up with."
"What?" Rytlock asked.
Snaff reached in his pocket and pulled out what looked like a metal coin. "I call it a 'hole in my pocket.' But it's actually a mini, portable asura gate, of my own fabulous design." He flicked the coin, and as it tumbled in midair, it expanded. Metal filaments slid over each other and reoriented, broadening into a hoop, then a wide ring. The metal circle came down to strike the floor, wobbling itself flat. The moment that the entire circumference of the circle touched the floor, the flagstones within it vanished, showing a patch of windblown sand.
"Whoa," Logan said. "Where is that?"
"I can tune them only to known places, and this one's tuned to just south of Ebonhawke."
"How far south?" Rytlock said in alarm.
"Out of arrow range," Snaff assured flatly.
Logan frowned. "What if the charr are sieging?"
"Out of range for them, too. In the desert! Where do you think I got all that sandstone for Sandy?" Snaff clapped his hands together and rubbed them. "Now, let's gather up supplies and golems and go see this Glint!"
From Her Royal Majesty, Jennah,
Queen of Kryta
To the Most Magnificent Logan Thackeray
Logan:
Another dragon champion lies slain at your feet-the Destroyer of Life and his thousand minions. Well done! You have saved Rata Sum, and you have won for us an upgraded asura gate into Ebonhawke. To think-a year ago you were guarding a caravan to Ebonhawke. Now you have made such caravans unnecessary. Thank you!
Still, I must say that I was greatly troubled to read your account of the incident with Faolain of the Nightmare Court. None of her ilk can be trusted. They cling to a demented view of the world. When I read your account, I almost called you to me, but that would only have been selfish.
If Glint is helping her master rise, you must face her down and slay her. But Glint has been an ally to humankind. I am torn. If I had to choose, I would trust her more than the Nightmare Court.
This mission is yet another danger for you to face in my name, in the name of all Tyria. So, go, my champion. Go slay a lesser dragon to stop an Elder Dragon.
Yours always,
Jennah
From Logan Thackeray
To Her Royal Majesty, Jennah,
Queen of Kryta
My Queen,
This may well be my darkest hour. I, too, remember what Glint has done for humanity, and to go to slay her seems inconceivable. But if this act can stop the holocaust of an Elder Dragon's rising, I must do it.
Your letters pierce me like arrows. How I long to see Divinity's Reach, our home. But more, I long to see you. Every moment of every day, I hope to feel your call, so that I can throw aside everything that doesn't matter and run to you. I would throw aside the whole world if I had to. But I know that the only way you will call to me is if you are in mortal danger. I never want that to be the case.
So I will remain your champion. I will fight on for you, these thousand miles away. I will even kill Glint if I must. But all the while, I will have your face before me-your eyes that pierce to my soul.
Your champion,
Logan
PART III
The Crystal Desert sun beat down on a strange company. At the head walked warriors in white burnooses-Eir Stegalkin, Logan Thackeray, and Caithe of the Firstborn. Behind them came Rytlock Brimstone and Garm the wolf, their backs bared to the blazing sun. Next were a pair of newly designed Bigs, with Snaff and Zojja suspended within.
This army was marching into battle against another dragon champion: Glint.
Eir perched a hand over her eyes and squinted toward a ridge that ran across their path. "Either Glint's sanctum is very close, or we'll have to climb that ridge."
Caithe shook her head, eyes closing to consult the map in her mind. "The sanctum is beyond the ridge, but we will not have to climb. There's a defile that cuts through, just ahead."
Rytlock stomped up beside them. "A defile? Oh, perfect!" He shot a look at Logan. "Any jackass could send a rockslide down on top of us."
"It's the only way," Caithe insisted.
Rytlock stared at the ridge. "I don't like it."
"You don't have to," Eir said.
The companions marched onward toward the defile, but an hour later, it looked no closer. The ridge only grew taller, the walls of the crevice only steeper. Four hours later, they stood at the entrance to the narrow canyon.
Eir stared at the cleft ahead, then flashed a sharp look at her comrades. "Well, here we go."
She marched up the loose scree at the ridge's base and headed into the defile, followed by the rest of the companions. Somehow, the heat of the plains was all the more intense within. The sun baked one wall of stone, which turned the cleft into an oven.