Logan said, "This is crazy. We're supposed to be killing each other."

"I never do what I'm supposed to do."

Logan huffed, "Me neither."

Rytlock c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Taking a deep breath, Logan said, "I've got this big brother in Divinity's Reach. He's in the Seraph, for G.o.ds' sake. Guarding the queen, queen, even-" even-"

"One of those those brothers." brothers."

"Yeah," Logan said, pointing at him. "He wears armor that s.h.i.+nes like a mirror . . . white everything . . . stands by the queen all day. I was supposed to follow him, but a white knight casts a long shadow."

"Heh. You're pretty far from that shadow."

"Huh?"

"Mercenary scout for a supply caravan in the Blazeridges?" Rytlock said. "That's about as far from your brother as you can get."

Logan looked at his hands. "Guess so." They sat awhile in silence before he asked, "You got any brothers?"

"About a dozen," Rytlock said with a rueful laugh, "and a dozen sisters."

"Big family."

Rytlock shook his head. "Charr don't have families. We have warbands. The bonds are even stronger."

Logan's eyes grew wide. "Was that them, back there? That funeral pyre?"

"Course not," Rytlock snapped. "Those were Iron Legion. I'm Blood Legion."

"You guys all look alike," Logan said with a shrug. "So, where's your warband?"

"Back east somewhere. I left them."

That comment hung in the air between them. "Why?"

"My reasons are my own."

Just then, Caithe returned, flopping a brace of dead rabbits down on a nearby rock. "All right, so, I hunted them. You cook them."

"Sure," Rytlock said, relieved to end the conversation. "I'm a good cook."

Logan blasted a laugh. "Yeah, right! Charr cooking?"

"What's wrong with charr cooking?"

"It's right in the name!"

"Shut it," Rytlock advised, "and don't open it again until there's roasted rabbit."

Caithe brushed off her hands and sat beside Logan. They watched as the charr cracked burning branches from the birch and piled them into a campfire. He sharpened three other sticks into spits. Sticking a claw into each rabbit's pelt, he ripped it away to reveal the meat. Then he slid the spits through the gutted rabbits and propped the skewers in the flames.

"So, you come from a grove?" Logan asked Caithe.

"The Grove," Caithe corrected. Grove," Caithe corrected.

"A whole lot of trees."

"The Pale Tree. I was born out of it. Out of a seedpod. I am one of the Firstborn."

"Coming out of a tree-" Logan whistled. "Must be weird."

Caithe's brows canted. "And your method isn't?"

They sat for a while, the scent of cooked rabbit coming to them on the air.

At last Logan ventured, "How come you left the Grove?"

"I knew everything there. I left to learn more."

"Admirable."

"What do you mean?"

Logan shrugged. "Lots of people stay right where they were born. They don't want to know anything else. Maybe that's what's wrong with the world."

Caithe shrugged. "I think Elder Dragons are a bigger problem."

Logan laughed. "Yeah, I guess they are."

Caithe looked deadly serious. "They are. are. We just fought the minions of one of them-Primordus. He was the first one to rise, and he's still spreading his power through the deep places, like that dwarf city. But there are others. The Ice Dragon Jormag is taking over the northern mountains, and there's another dragon in the black heart of Orr. Who knows how many more are rising." We just fought the minions of one of them-Primordus. He was the first one to rise, and he's still spreading his power through the deep places, like that dwarf city. But there are others. The Ice Dragon Jormag is taking over the northern mountains, and there's another dragon in the black heart of Orr. Who knows how many more are rising."

Logan nodded politely. "Not one for small talk, are you?"

Caithe's eyes were wide and guileless. "Why talk small when there are such big things happening?"

"Perfectly done!" Rytlock announced as he lifted three smoking rabbits from the fire. "Black outside and pink within."

Logan nodded as he dutifully received his meal, and Caithe did likewise.

Holding his own charred rabbit, Rytlock sat down on the log and began to eat. The charr's eating habits-gnawing teeth and flying meat and grunts of satisfaction-at first put the other two off. But soon all three were feasting. The rabbit was delicious-a creature alive half an hour ago, slain unknowing, and roasted moments later.

As he bit into a haunch, Logan said, "I'd never guess you could cook."

Rytlock wiped grease from his chin. "You'd be amazed what I can do."

The comrades ate in silence as the sky deepened to dusk.

"Kryta," Logan said at last, staring upward.

Rytlock glanced at him over the picked skeletons. "What?"

"That's where we are. That constellation overhead puts us two days' march west of Lion's Arch."

The charr's face darkened. "Long way from Ascalon."

Logan smiled. "Come on. You'll like like Lion's Arch. Everybody there's from somewhere else." Lion's Arch. Everybody there's from somewhere else."

"Whatever," Rytlock said. "Surely they'll have a gate back to the Black Citadel."

Nodding, Logan glanced at the stone scabbard hanging from Rytlock's belt. "You can go through such a gate, but you're not taking Rurik's sword."

Rytlock barked a laugh. "I'd like to see you stop me."

IN THE COLD.

Eir ran up to Big Snaff and Big Zojja and pounded their metal hides. Whether because of the blows or the aura of her gray powerstones, the two golems jolted, and the otherworldly light left their eyes.

"Where are we?" came Snaff's tinny voice.

"You're in battle with the Dragonsp.a.w.n," spat Eir. "Wake up!"

Big Zojja s.h.i.+vered. "Point me at him. I'll get him."

They were back, in control. Their eyes no longer glowed with the blue-white aura of the Dragonsp.a.w.n. Eir turned toward their foe.

The Dragonsp.a.w.n stood with hands outflung, eyes gus.h.i.+ng wrath on Garm.

"No!"

The dire wolf stood enveloped in blue-white energy. Power sluiced past his gaping jaws and coursed over his hackles. It sought entry. It probed for a c.h.i.n.k that would let its icy talons reach into his heart, into his mind. But there was no such c.h.i.n.k.

Garm had only one alpha, now and forever.

"This is our chance!" Eir shouted to the Bigs. "Let's go!"

Eir stepped out from behind her dire wolf into the full brunt of the boreal blast. More frost etched across her armor, but she strode toward the Dragonsp.a.w.n and broke into a run.

Garm did, too, alongside her.

Big Snaff and Big Zojja joined the charge.

"Ten more paces," Eir cried, "and the Dragonsp.a.w.n will be a pile of ice!"

But in five more paces, he was gone. The air folded around his frozen figure and closed on him.

Eir took three more strides before stumping to a halt.

Garm, Big Snaff, and Big Zojja pulled up alongside her.

"Where did he go?"

A sharp crack came from above. The comrades looked up to see an icicle the size of a fir tree break from the ceiling and plunge toward them. It didn't seem to move, only to grow larger.

"Back!" Eir commanded.

The golems leaped back, skidding on the icy floor.

The icicle struck, its tip hurling out hailstones. The shaft rammed downward, disintegrating until it reached its center, which struck the floor like a hammer. The cavern shook.

Big Snaff brushed ice off his steel hide. "Lucky for us, we got out of the way."

"We're not out of the way," replied Eir, looking up at the thousands of similar icicles hanging overhead.

Crack, crack, crack, crack!

"He's trying to drive us out," Eir cried. "Deeper! Run deeper!"

She ran forward, followed by golems that fissured the ice as they went. The four comrades ran headlong into the darkness.

Behind them, icicles fell. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! They hissed and burst like rockets. Frozen shrapnel rang across the golems' metal skins. They hissed and burst like rockets. Frozen shrapnel rang across the golems' metal skins. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

One icicle grazed Eir's elbow, dragging her sideways-away from another icicle that staved the floor before her. She spun past its disintegrating bulk over a field of slippery shards.

"Keep going!"

Garm leaped aside as an ice shaft struck before him, going off like a bomb.

Big Snaff and Big Zojja danced past two more columns while a third toppled before them like a felled tree.

"Jump!" Snaff cried.

The golems grasped hands and leaped as the icicle hit. Big Zojja and Big Snaff sailed side by side over the shattering ice. The two golems fell into a wave of crushed ice that picked up Eir and Garm and dumped them into another chute.

"Down we go!" Eir called.

For a time, there was only metal sc.r.a.ping ice and golems spinning and the wave breaking. Then the floor flattened out again in deep darkness. Eir, Garm, and the golems ground to a halt, and the last skittering shards of ice tumbled to silence.

"Now where are we?" Zojja wondered through her speaking tube.

Snaff replied philosophically, "Somewhere else."

"Somewhere he was trying to keep us from," Eir said as she rose. "This is probably his inner sanctum."