J King - Edge of Destiny

"What are you talking about?" Eir asked, regaining her breath.

"Mobile closets," Snaff muttered, grinning.

Eir blinked. "I don't know what that is."

"A cage-no, a cockpit. We'll put it in the abdomen-you know, with a harness and all so that the driver can kick her legs and punch her arms as much as she likes and ride along in safety!"

Eir nodded. "You think you could make these machines controllable?"

"Of course."

"Because, in wartime, a machine has to be completely in control."

"Yes, of course," Snaff replied, adding innocently, "What's this about?"

"You have these… hypercephalic-"

"Cephalolithopathic."

"Yes… these golems that people can control with their minds. And I need warriors who can fight the Dragonspawn-"

"Your point being?"

The norn sighed. "Here's what I propose: I'll carve your head, so you can have a golem just like your assistant, if you'll agree to march these golems against the Dragonspawn as your… um, what do you call it?"

"Beta test?"

"Right."

The asura inventor sighed contentedly. "It's just the sort of arrangement I had hoped for."

Who said that?" Logan asked, silencing Rytlock with an upraised hand. "Listen."

Only the crackling fires spoke in the dark canyon. Neither warrior could hear anything else, let alone see beyond the pyres.

"Wasn't me," Rytlock growled. "Sounded womanish."

"It was womanish," said the voice.

Rytlock and Logan drew their weapons.

Logan stepped away from the pyres, war hammer ready in his hand. "Who is it? Show yourself!"

"I am showing myself," the woman replied flatly. "I'm standing right here. The problem is you're fire-blinded. If you want to see me, step away from the light."

"Yeah, right," Rytlock snarled.

"Why don't you step into the light?" Logan asked.

"You want all three of us to be fire-blinded?"

"Yes."

There was a sigh. Then she emerged from the veiling darkness-a petite woman with silvery hair and porcelain skin. She wore glossy travel leathers crossed with vine motifs, which clung tight to her young body. Her spike-heeled boots also looked like dark seedpods, lifting her three inches taller than she would have stood.

"A sylvari," groaned Rytlock. "Always trouble."

Logan stepped toward her. "What are you doing here?"

Her eyes shone like jade. "Talking to you."

Logan blinked. "No, I mean, why are you here?"

She sighed. "You asked me to step into the light."

"See what I mean?" growled Rytlock.

"Which is a bad idea since the smell of blood is drawing predators from miles around," she continued, "and those pyres are like beacons to bring the ogres."

Rytlock huffed. "Bring the ogres? We just killed the ogres."

"Yes," the silver-haired woman said. "You killed some of them."

"Do you live here?"

"No."

"Then how did you get here?"

"I followed you."

"Why?"

"Because you were moving. It's impossible to follow someone who is standing still. If I hadn't moved, I would have lost you. Thus, follow. You ask the strangest questions."

Logan flung his hands up in frustration.

Rytlock stepped forward, Sohothin before him. "You saw what this sword can do. Give us your name."

"I'm Caithe. But what does my name have to do with what your sword can do?"

Rytlock rolled his eyes. "It was a threat."

"I'm not the one in danger here," Caithe said.

"Is that a threat?" Rytlock asked, eyes growing wide.

"Not a threat. A warning."

The charr laughed harshly. "You? Warning me?"

"Yes."

"About what?"

"Being killed."

"You think you can kill me?"

"No."

Rytlock stared at her, waiting for elaboration. None came. Finally he asked, "So, who, then?"

"Chief Kronon."

"Who's that?"

"The chief of the local tribes."

"What does he want with us?" asked Rytlock.

"You killed his son, Chiefling Ygor."

"The one with the iron helm," Logan said, snapping his fingers.

Caithe continued placidly, "When Chief Kronon finds out, he and his hunters will track you down."

Rytlock stared at the dead ogres lying between the pyres. "We've got to get out of here."

The sylvari clenched her teeth. "That's exactly what I was telling you but was sidetracked by all those hows and whys and ridiculous commands to come into the light so that all three of us could stand here and be surrounded by devourers."

"Devourers!" Logan blurted, just before the first giant scorpion scuttled into view.

It was a devourer, all right, its armor as thick as plates and its two tails curved in deadly arcs above its back. The creature ambled up just behind Caithe.

"There's a swarm," she said in a lecturing voice, "which means we'll all be fighting. Now, I've seen you two fight-too much power, too little care-which means you'll win, but not before the ogres get here, which means we all lose."

Claws clicked the ground behind Logan. He spun to see another devourer creeping up on him.

"I've got one, too," Rytlock announced, raking his sword out before him. The darkness beyond shivered with scaly claws and venomous stingers. "Hate these things. They're attracted by the smell of death. It's their food."

"But the pyres," Logan said. "We burned the dead!"

"So they want their food cooked."

"Too many!" Logan hissed as a pair of devourers scuttled up to him. He swung his hammer, and their tails darted down to spurt venom into the air.

Rytlock's sword was even worse, drawing the great scorpions like a candle flame.

"Put away your weapons," the sylvari said easily. "Devourers have better weapons than you. You need to dictate the battle. Draw the monster in. Get it to strike, but when you want it to."

Whirling around, Caithe flung her arms toward the sky and set her feet wide apart, becoming a living X before the giant scorpion. It scudded forward, its scales shivering with anticipation. The two poisonous tails quivered, and drops of venom hung from their ends. The devourer snapped its pincers and clicked its feet, watching for an opening. Suddenly, both poisonous tails lunged toward Caithe.

She flung her hands back from the stingers, which jetted poison. Then, with catlike reflexes, she grabbed the tops of the stingers.

"What are you doing?" Logan shouted.

The sylvari only smiled again as those muscular tails lifted her up over of the devourer's snapping claws and carapaced back. Caithe raised a spike-heeled boot and brought it down on the base of the scorpion's tails. Her heel punched through the thick armor and into the nerve core. The two great tails wilted, slumping to the ground.

"Every creature's got weak points," Caithe said as she drew a knife from her belt and stabbed the beast's brain. "Learn the weak points, and you can lockpick them. For these devourers, the weak point is where the two tails diverge."

A half dozen devourers swelled out of the darkness.

The man and the charr traded annoyed looks and launched into battle.

Logan brought his hammer down on the back of a devourer-except that the beast shied back, and the hammer rooted in the ground. Logan dropped it and pivoted to run, but the devourer surged up to trip him. Pincers grabbed his ankles and pitched him backward. Logan landed on the scorpion, back-to-back, his hands reaching up to catch the twin stingers before they could sink into his stomach. Gobs of venom slid down his arms as the muscular tails struggled to break his grip. The venom made his hands slick, and he was losing hold.

"Weak points," said a voice, and Logan looked up between the tails to see the smiling sylvari. She kicked her heel into the divergence of the spines. The tails slumped. Caithe leaned over Logan and jabbed between his legs to stab the scorpion's brain. Smiling grimly, she helped Logan to his feet. "Try it my way."