Guild Wars: Ghosts of Ascalon (13 page)

“And I would like to explore the Vigil House
further,” said Killeen. “I think I saw some other sylvari in the halls.”

“You two have fun,” said Dougal. “I for one am going to follow General Soulkeeper’s orders and take a nap. It has been too eventful a day already, and it is still early afternoon.”

The three split up, Killeen leaving with the hylek, asking questions as they walked away. Dougal watched them leave and lingered for a long moment in the hall. Now that he was committed, he wondered if he had the right to drag Riona and Killeen back into the deathtrap that was Ascalon City. Perhaps the charr was right: traveling light and fast would be the best approach.

“Never adventure with people you would hate to see die,” he said to himself. Lost in thought, he didn’t realize that his door was already ajar as he strode into his quarters.

Dougal closed the door behind him without looking, staggered toward his bed, and set his pack down. The long day had finally caught up with him, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. Almorra Soulkeeper had kept talking about how time was of the essence. If this was the last night he’d see a bed for a long while, they’d have to drag him out of it, even for dinner.

That’s when he heard the heavy footfalls behind him.

Dougal spun about just in time to see a mountainous form emerge from the shadows behind the door and come straight for him. The norn stood over nine feet tall and had as much mass as a full-grown bear. He wore his bright blond hair tied back tightly behind
him in a warrior’s braid, and the light from the lanterns on either side of the bed glinted in his ice-blue eyes. His naked chest was crisscrossed with a maze of swirling tattoos, and he wore only a fur-trimmed kilt and a pair of soft leather boots, both of which bore black splotches of old blood.

The norn let out a bloodcurdling war cry that reverberated off the room’s stone walls. Dougal ignored the scream to concentrate on the razor-sharp edge of the double-bladed axe the norn swung toward his head in a fatal arc.

Dougal let his feet spin out from beneath him as he hurled himself toward the bed. The axe sliced close enough to him for the rounded side of its steel head to glance off his temple as it passed over him. He bounced off the bed, which would have put him in the path of the axe’s backswing but for the fact that the first strike had bit deep into one of the bedposts with a sickening crunch and stuck there.

Dougal scrambled away from the bed as the norn took hold of the axe’s handle with two hands and pulled. Dougal cursed the fact that he still didn’t have a sword and made a mental note to have Almorra make good on her promise, should he live that long. Away from the bed, he drew his knife, but when he looked up at the norn—who glanced back as he continued to struggle with and curse at his axe—the modest blade seemed next to useless.

Dougal hunted around the room for something else to use as a weapon. He spotted a toppled chair lying before an overturned desk near the large unshuttered
window, and he dashed over to snatch it up over his head.

The norn snarled in frustration. “By the Bear!” he said in a booming, slightly slurred voice. “If you refuse to release my axe, you damned bedpost, then you will pay!”

The norn reached out and grabbed the top of the bedpost, then snapped it from the bed with a mighty twist of his wrist, which was thicker than the length of wood he now held. He querulously examined his handiwork and saw that although the post had been torn free from the base of the bed, the axe still hung embedded in it.

Dougal rushed forward and brought the chair down on the norn’s head as hard as he could. As tall as the norn was, Dougal managed only to bash him in the neck, smashing the chair to pieces.

The norn turned around, still hefting the bedpost in one hand as if it were no heavier than a stick, and grinned. “Good job, boy!” he slurred. “That almost hurt.”

Oh gods,
thought Dougal,
he’s drunk.
The only thing worse than a norn was a drunk norn.

While Dougal gaped at the norn’s insane smile, the monstrous warrior brought the bedpost around like a club and knocked Dougal across the room. As Dougal smashed into the desk, the only thing he could think was how lucky he’d been that the double-bladed axe had been on the other side of the pole when it struck him. He lay there sprawled atop the desk, dazed and hurting, and struggled to collect any more thoughts
than that.

The norn looked down at Dougal for a moment, nodding in satisfaction. “Ah, just like a human, though,” he said. “Folds like a sheet.” Then he put the bedpost on the ground and stood on it while he tried to pull his weapon from it with both hands. The force of his initial blow had jammed it tight. “Damnation,” he said with an amused grunt. “I need to learn what kind of wood this is and make me a suit of armor from it.” Then he laughed at the concept.

Riona appeared in the doorway, a look of irritation on her face. Dougal shouted to warn her off. She ignored him and, drawing her sword, moved in to attack the norn.

“Just hold on there, girl,” the norn said, struggling past his hiccups as he cast a wary eye on her sword and edged toward Dougal. “I take no issue with you. Just let me do my duty and dispatch this boy.”

Riona hesitated, her gaze flickering between Dougal and the norn. The norn saw the momentary distraction and launched himself forward, striking the human woman in the side with a roundhouse kick. Riona let out a shout as she was flung against the far wall. She was slow in getting up.

A huge shadow with tiger stripes appeared in the doorway. Ember Doomforge unleashed a battle cry that rumbled off the room’s walls. Dougal would have covered his ears if he hadn’t needed his hands to steady himself on the floor as he scrambled away from the norn.

The norn turned to face the charr and let loose a
hearty laugh filled with bloodlusty glee. “Good! A foe worthy of my axe—if I could get the bloody thing free!”

Doomforge leaped at the norn, her claws popped from her fingers like a dragon’s talons. The norn brought his axe and its attached bedpost up before him like a shield, and the charr slammed into it, knocking them both to the floor.

Flat on his back, the norn shoved hard with both hands against his axe, trying to keep the charr at arm’s length. Snarling like an angry wolf, Doomforge struggled to force her way past the bedpost, raking at the wood and the norn’s arms with her claws.

Dougal shouted, “He’s drunk and crazy!” hoping the information would help Doomforge. He knew it would only be a matter of seconds before one of them found some advantage over the other and the battle would be over. If the charr managed to bash the bedpost aside, she would tear the norn to pieces; but if the norn could hold her off until he could find some leverage, he might pin Doomforge under the bedpost and choke her to death.

Dougal scooped up a leg from the smashed chair. It wasn’t a sword, but it would have to do. He charged right at the norn, howling all the way, hoping to at least distract him and give Doomforge a chance to dispatch him.

Seeing Dougal coming, the norn kicked his feet up hard and flipped Doomforge over him. The charr bowled straight into Dougal, rolling them both into a tangle of arms and legs that careened into the wall
behind him.

Doomforge yowled in frustration and shoved Dougal away. He scrambled away from her, afraid that she might gore him in her fury, but he pulled up short when he saw the norn stand up before him.

The norn bashed his axe against a wall, smashing the bedpost from it. His weapon finally free, he hefted it in a meaty fist, ready to make quick work of Dougal and anyone who stood between them.

“Hold it!” Killeen shouted as she appeared in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

At first, Dougal thought the sylvari was talking to him, but she rushed into the room and grabbed the norn by the arm. “Gullik!” she said. “Stop! You’ll get yourself killed!”

Dougal wondered just whose side the sylvari was on. Doomforge didn’t bother to ask. She shoved Dougal aside and sprang at the norn, her claws flung wide to deny any escape. Behind him, Riona had gotten to her feet and regained her sword.

Killeen sprang between charr and norn, throwing one hand out toward each. “No! Don’t! He’s a friend!”

Doomforge hauled up short, her claws inches from Killeen’s face. She glared at the norn clear over the head of the sylvari, who looked like a child stuck between two giants. “Explain,” the charr said through her gritted fangs, her eyes daring the norn to attack.

The norn lowered his axe to the floor and leaned on its handle as if it were a cane. Dougal realized he had seen a norn do that before, in the crypts beneath Divinity’s Reach. With the scuffle suspended, at least
for the moment, the adrenaline drained from the norn’s blood, and he wavered there, unsteady on his feet. He spoke slowly, with the precision of a drunk man trying to convince others that he was not drunk.

“Thunder and blood! This should have been so simple. Find the man who was with my beloved cousin at her death. Take my revenge on his triple-damned soul.” He pointed at Dougal with a shaky hand. “Exit with my honor, and hers, preserved.”

“So much for that,” Riona muttered, her blade still out and at the ready.

The norn ignored her and squinted at Dougal with glassy eyes. “Bear’s bile, though, damn me if I can see how a scrawny thing like you could have cut down such a prime specimen of female norn.” He blinked, then added, “Norness. Nornitude.”

Killeen tried to say something, but the norn cut her off. He let out a deep sigh, and Dougal swore he could see tears in the corner of the norn’s great eyes.

“She was such a gentle creature,” the norn said, “always tagging along in my footsteps. Who could blame her for being dazzled by my heroism? But mine are massive boots to fill, and now poor little Gyda is dead.”

“Gyda?” Dougal’s jaw dropped. “She was your—? But I didn’t kill her.”

The norn gave Dougal a long, lazy wink. “Of course not, little one. But what else would a human say when the finest warrior in all the Shiverpeaks came calling for his head?”

The norn reached out and put a massive hand on
Dougal’s shoulder. Doomforge and Riona stepped closer, ready with claw and blade. But the norn only stood there, staring at Dougal, weaving as he stood. Dougal wondered if the norn would collapse and he would have to catch his huge form.

“By Raven’s black heart, who would blame you if you had killed yourself by now in terror?” He gazed into Dougal’s confused face. “You are a brave one, aren’t you? I can see it in your soul.”

Dougal opened his mouth to protest, but the norn shushed him. “Of course you didn’t kill her,” the norn said. “Just look at you. How could anyone imagine you could manage that?”

The norn paused for a moment to swallow hard, and Dougal feared that the drunken warrior might become sick. “But that’s not the point,” the norn said, recovering. “Not at all. It’s not that sweet Gyda is dead. It’s that you’ve failed to say a word about it to anyone. I heard she died, but nothing else. There’s an epic tale to be spun there, I’m sure, and Gyda deserves for her part in the grand saga to be told. No true norn fears death—only being forgotten.”

The norn’s hand grew heavier then, and Dougal put up his arms to help steady the tottering giant, whose spirit-laden breath smelled strong enough to make Dougal’s eyes water. As he did, he knew that he was too late. The norn’s eyes rolled back up into his head as he crumpled forward.

Dougal tried to slip out of the way, but the norn was too big to avoid. The massive warrior’s chest came down hard on Dougal’s legs, pinning him to the ground.
Dougal howled more in frustration than pain.

“Dougal!” Riona rushed to his side. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Dougal struggled to extract his feet from beneath the norn’s bulk. “Just get him off of me!”

Scowling in disgust, Doomforge reached down with both hands and heaved the slumbering norn onto his back.

“Who is he?” Dougal asked as he pulled himself to his feet.

“Gullik Oddsson,” Killeen said.

Doomforge whistled at this, a strange, low note that emerged not from her lips but her teeth. “
The
Oddsson? I heard he single-handedly defeated a score of destroyers in the old dwarf mines beneath the Dredgehaunt Cliffs.”

Riona blew out a long breath. “He’s supposed to have stormed aboard the schooner
Watery Gravestone,
slaughtered Captain Deadbeard, and then taken command of the ship to terrorize the Sea of Sirens.”

“Gyda told me he slew a mad grawl with his bare hands when he was only a child, no taller than me,” said Killeen.

“He’s a drunken ass who tried to kill me and nearly broke my legs,” said Dougal. He kicked Gullik in the shoulder. The norn didn’t even stop snoring long enough to acknowledge it. “And he’s not sleeping in here.”

Doomforge grunted. “How do you suggest we move him?”

Crusader Naugatl and a squad of guards showed up then, drawn by the sounds of the battle. They gaped at the norn and then at Doomforge, but they put their swords away at a sign from her.

“Leave him here,” she said. “Secure the door and window. Post a squad of guards, and come find me as soon as he shows signs of rousing.” She pointed at one of the guards. “Have another room prepared for Keane. Right now.”

A guard ran off to fulfill his orders, and Doomforge sauntered after him, motioning for the others to follow. “Come,” she said. “I can’t speak for you, but after that, I need a drink.” Killeen produced a blanket and laid it over the snoring norn’s chest, then turned to the door as well.

“Are you coming?” she said.

“I was serious about that nap,” said Dougal.

“I still need to get something from the bazaar,” said Riona. To Dougal she said, “Can we leave you alone for more than five minutes?”

“Maybe,” said Dougal, “if the rest of the world will stop beating me up long enough so I can get some sleep.”