Dougal felt warm and full as he returned to his room. He checked behind the door as he entered and made sure that the night shutters on the window were secure, on the off chance that Gyda had any more irate relatives lurking about. Determining that all was clear, he sat down on the bed and thought about his new companions.

All of them were more determined than he was. Riona seemed dedicated to the Vigil cause. The charr crusader was going to follow her orders to the letter. And Killeen would not be dissuaded from visiting a city filled with ghosts.

The problem, thought Dougal, was that none of them had any idea of what lay waiting for them in Ascalon City. He had been there, at horrendous cost. They didn’t seem too interested in listening to his warnings here in the safety of Lion’s Arch; would they listen to him when they were surrounded by the howling masses of spirits?

Dougal leaned back and looked at the ceiling, and the next thing he knew there was a loud thumping on the door. He blinked himself awake and noticed that the room’s single oil lamp was still lit and no light peeked through the night shutters. He could not have been asleep more than two hours.

Staggering to the door, he found the hylek, Naugatl, standing there, his wide amphibian orbs equally bleary. “Gather your things,” the hylek said. “You are leaving.”

Dougal stared at the creature, who repeated his message, then waddled down the hall. The creature thumped on the next door and was greeted by a feminine curse.

Realizing that Riona was just as irritated as he was, Dougal almost smiled as he put together his meager belongings. He splashed some ice-cold water from a pitcher on his face to brace himself awake, briefly considered changing out of the clothes he had slept in, decided it was not worth the time, and shambled down to the meeting room.

He got there before Riona, which pleased him in some perverse manner. Killeen had arrived early, but even she seemed bleary-eyed and worn-out. Only Ember seemed unaffected by the early hour, picking at the remains of the moa platter from dinner.

They sat there for a few long minutes. Servants brought in a platter of cheese and a new ewer of wine. Dougal helped himself to the cheese but abjured the wine.

“Riona’s late. Perhaps we will have to leave without her,” Killeen said, yawning.

Dougal smiled at the thought of Riona chasing after them as they left the safe house. “Perhaps we should.”

Killeen stared at Dougal with her wide green eyes. After a moment he decided he’d become uncomfortable with it.

“What?” he asked.

“Just wondering what your bones will look like.”

Dougal frowned at her. Ember stopped picking the moa and glared at the sylvari.

“What are your wishes in the event of your demise?” she added, smiling at Dougal.

“What?” he responded.

Killeen shrugged. “There’s a possibility that some of us will not survive this mission. It’s only wise that we make each other aware of our last wishes. Would you prefer a burial, a burning, or something else entirely?”

Dougal shrugged. “Do whatever you like. At that point, I’ll be beyond caring.”

“Really?” Killeen’s eyes lit up like the rising sun glaring off the sea. “That’s refreshing. Most humans prefer to be buried, but with all the undead streaming out of Orr these days, a growing number are choosing to be burned instead. Just to make sure that they don’t end up as some sort of zombie or skeleton in the service of the dragon Zhaitan, of course. Not that it’s really them: their spirit should have fled by that point, after all. Most people either can’t or don’t bother to make the distinction.”

She looked him up and down as if she were sizing up a side of beef. “You would make an excellent undead servant.” She circled around him, checking him out from every angle. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

Despite himself, Dougal shuddered. “Riona’s right,” he said, “you are creepy sometimes.”

Killeen showed all her bright teeth as she smiled at him. “I am who I am.”

A deep voice booming from the hallway interrupted the conversation. “Hail, my new friends! This shall be a saga our grandchildren will sing with pride!”

At first Dougal had felt relieved to be spared any more of Killeen’s curiosity, but then he turned to see the norn walking toward them with a wide grin on his tremendous face. Dougal’s muscles bunched in case Gullik was prepared to finish the job he had started the day before.

But Gullik seemed sober today, and not immediately bent on Dougal’s murder, so there were those points in his favor. The norn walked up to Ember’s place, nodded at the charr, examined the remains of the sadly depleted moa, let out a sigh, and contented himself with a handful of cheese.

Riona trotted up behind the norn, and Soulkeeper strode after them, unhurried.

“Wait!” Riona said to Gullik. “The general only asked if you might be interested in joining us. We haven’t agreed on anything.”

Gullik shrugged as he pulled his long, loose hair back behind him and wrapped a leather strip through it, binding it in place. “It’s an adventure for the ages,” he said. “It’s exactly the challenge I’ve been needing. Life in these lowlands has bored me to tears of late, and I can think of nothing I’d rather do than make another mark upon history.”

He stopped in front of Dougal, leaned forward, and gave him a conspiratorial wink. “After all, even I can’t keep at this forever, and I have an image to burnish. The bards shall sing our names in the same chorus alongside those of Destiny’s Edge and the other great heroes of our age!”

“And how are you feeling this morning?” Dougal asked, smiling wanly.

“Like a hedgehog got loose in my skull and fouled itself between my ears,” the norn said with a knowing smile. “Never better!”

Gullik leaned down and spoke to Dougal in a confidential tone. “My regrets for yesterday,” he said. “Bear’s tongue, I haven’t drunk that much since I had to barricade myself inside the Busted Flagon tavern in Divinity’s Reach. They threatened to banish me forever.”

“And when was that?”

The norn rubbed his stubble-dotted chin as he thought about this. “A month ago. No, maybe last year. It’s been a while. In any case, I hope I didn’t do anything earlier that I might regret.”

“You passed out right after you failed to kill me,” Dougal said.

“Excellent!” Gullik placed a massive hand on Dougal’s shoulder, and for a moment Dougal wondered if he were about to be strangled to death. “I remember every bit of that. Well, most of it. Enough to know I was being hasty and happy to give you a chance to make amends on our way to Ascalon City.”

Riona breathed in and out through her nose to compose herself, then explained. “When Gullik finally woke up, he was brought to General Soulkeeper. She asked him personally to not interfere further with you, as you are on a vital mission for the Vigil. When he learned that, he insisted on joining us.” From Riona’s expression, she did not approve of this new addition at all, and was seriously looking to Dougal for support in rejecting his offer.

Soulkeeper said calmly, “You could use some more muscle.” She looked up at the norn, who gave her a little laugh. “Even with Doomforge along as your guide, you’re sure to have plenty of fighting ahead of you.”

“I do not need his help,” Ember said, but did not press the point. It was clear that the charr had been fully cowed and would not challenge the general further. Riona didn’t say anything, but glared at Dougal again.

Dougal, for his part, held his tongue. Even on best behavior, a charr in the party would be problematic, and the presence of a norn, even a norn like Gullik, would work to their advantage. Riona saw he was not going to enter into the discussion and let out a deep, frustrated sigh.

“You need more help than even a single norn can provide,” Soulkeeper said, “but you will make do with his. At the very least, Gullik Oddsson here should be able to provide you with an excellent distraction for your foes.”

“Hey-ho!” the norn shouted in response, raising his fist into the ceiling. “I am nothing if not distracting.”

Soulkeeper caught Dougal’s eye and gave a very human-looking shrug. “I was going to offer him his freedom in return for joining your mission, but he volunteered before I could get that far.”

“Speaking of offers,” Dougal said, “we were talking about a sword earlier. Among other things.”

“Indeed.” Soulkeeper scratched the side of her muzzle and glanced at the empty scabbard still hanging from Dougal’s belt. “You’re like a declawed charr. We can’t send a human out into the world without a proper blade, can we?”

Dougal shook his head. Riona said, “A proper blade that he won’t break, I hope.”

Soulkeeper gestured for Naugatl, who was lurking in the shadows of the hallway. The frog-man hopped forward on long, rubbery legs, bearing a long bundle in his thin arms.

“You made a good choice, dryskin!” the hylek boomed in a gravelly voice. “This blade, she is too good for you!”

“But the mission isn’t?” said Dougal, scowling at the hylek.

“No.” The hylek winked a transparent eyelid at Dougal as he unwrapped the sword and handed it over. “That is too bad for you.”

Dougal took the blade and unsheathed it in a single movement. It leaped silently from its scabbard as if on springs. The blade glistened in the firelight, black and oily. The ebony color seemed to have not been applied to the metal but to run straight through it.

“What does it do?” Dougal asked as he hefted it and gave it a few swings to test its balance. It felt natural, like an extension of his arm.

“What? You mean, does it shoot lightning or burst into flame or something like that?” General Soulkeeper bared her teeth in a smile.

“Something like that.”

“I am afraid not,” said the general.

“So what’s so special about the blade?” Even as he said the words, Dougal realized he didn’t care. This sword felt perfect, as if he’d been looking for it his entire life and not even realized he was missing it until now.

“It kills,” said Soulkeeper. The hylek let loose a throaty laugh that, had he been human, would have sounded as though he were about to vomit. “It kills very, very well. Isn’t that what a sword’s for?”

Dougal could not argue with that. He glanced over at Ember, who was losing the battle to consume the roast moa with the norn. The charr casually pitched a moa leg bone toward Dougal, and Dougal swung the sword at it effortlessly as if merely pointing at it. The remnants of the bone fell into two neat halves at his feet.

Dougal looked at it and nodded his approval at Soulkeeper. “It’s a good start,” he said as he sheathed the blade. He looked at the general long and hard. “Why are we up at this gods-forsaken hour?”

“You need to get to Ebonhawke,” said Soulkeeper.

“If we are traveling by asura gate, we have to go through Divinity’s Reach,” said Dougal. “No one will be up at this hour.”

“You’re right about the last part,” said the general, “but you’re not going back to Divinity’s Reach. You’re going straight through to Ebonhawke.”

Now Riona finally spoke up: “That’s impossible. The only solid gate to Ebonhawke is from Divinity’s Reach.”

“Did I say you were using an established asura gate?” said Soulkeeper, her jaw open with amusement. “We can tune the Lion’s Arch gate to Ebonhawke’s aetheric frequency. We have a very talented man on the other side to do the same. From what I understand, we can bring the two gates into alignment briefly and send you through. But we have to be quick about it: we have a very slender window in time.”

Riona’s voice rose now. “You mean there is a flaw in the asura gate system? Could the charr use this to break into Ebonhawke?”

“You would need an agent on the Ebonhawke side,” said Soulkeeper. “And even if they had one, the charr leadership would be reticent to try it. They are distrustful of asuran magic.”

“They aren’t the only ones,” said Dougal softly.

“So if anyone asks, we didn’t do this,” Soulkeeper said sternly, looking at Ember and then at Gullik. The big norn shrugged, comfortable in the fact that he didn’t understand what was going on in the first place. “Further, you won’t want to mention the Vigil at all. Good fortune to you all. Now, dismissed!”

Soulkeeper placed her fist over her heart and Naugatl, Riona, and Ember returned the salute. Dougal just hoisted his bag and followed the hylek out of the room. They wound through passages and emerged at the same nondescript entrance by which they had entered the safe house.

They stumbled out into the empty streets of Lion’s Arch. A lamplighter moved slowly down the street from them, but it was otherwise empty. The breeze was at their backs, pouring back into the sea, but Dougal still tasted salt.

“This is never going to work,” said Dougal to Riona. “We’ve got too many people to be stealthy, and too few to be effective.”

“I know,” Riona said quietly. “But we will do as best as we can. My goal is to get you to Ascalon City. We may have to pay a heavy price for that.”

“You talked our way past the Seraph,” said Killeen. “I’m sure you and your purple-stamped orders can do the same here.”

“The Ebon Vanguard is a different order entirely from the Seraph,” said Dougal. “They are not so easily swayed.”

“Don’t they answer to your Queen Jennah?” asked Killeen.

“The Ebon Vanguard? Yes and no. Back before the Searing, they started out as the Ascalon Vanguard, an elite unit that fought alongside Prince Rurik and later ventured into the charr lands to take the battle to them. Many of the human slaves they rescued from the charr joined them and swelled their ranks. Since they weren’t part of the Ascalonian army anymore, they changed their name to the Ebon Vanguard. Later, Adelbern recalled those soldiers and asked them to fortify Ebonhawke in an attempt to solidify the capital’s supply lines and establish a last-ditch holdout position.”

“So Prince Rurik founded Ebonhawke?” Killeen showed real interest.

Dougal shook his head. “Rurik died while crossing the Shiverpeaks. By the time the Vanguard came to Ebonhawke, a hero named Gwen Thackeray was in charge. She forged the city into what it is today, and she led its defense during its darkest times, right after the Foefire, which—as you might imagine—sent every surviving charr in Tyria into a rage. Under her guidance, the walls of Ebonhawke stood strong—so strong that they remain unbroken to this day.”

“Nothing lasts forever,” Ember growled.

“She still sounds like an amazing woman,” said Killeen.

“The greatest ever,” Riona said. “She was the finest hero of her age. She was just a child at the time of the Searing, and she spent years as a charr slave before she escaped. She joined the Ebon Vanguard and climbed its ranks to become its leader. She turned Ebonhawke from an outpost into a fortress, which still remains as the last hope in the War of Ascalon Independence.”

Ember snarled at this. “You mean the Ascalon Insurrection.”

Dougal tried to bring the conversation back on track. “Gwen fought the charr. She hated them for what they’d done to her and her family, but she changed her mind about them after she worked with Pyre Fierceshot to help bring down the destroyers.”

“Some woman,” Ember growled.

“Did you know that Logan Thackeray is related to Gwen?” Dougal said to Killeen.

“That would make sense,” said the sylvari. “He struck me as being very dedicated to his queen and country.”

“I’ve read Gwen’s journals,” said Dougal. “They’re kept in the Durmand Priory. She married a ranger in the Ebon Vanguard. His name was Kieran Thackeray. Logan is their direct descendant.”

“Heroism must run in his blood.”

“Oh, spare me,” Ember said, her voice barely a low sneer.

“Pardon me?” said Riona.

“I said spare me your human lies.” The charr’s voice was taut and tense. “Gwen the Goremonger killed scores of my people. She was no hero.”

“To us, she was,” Riona said. “Without her, the charr would have overrun Ascalon long ago. Where would we be then?”

“The distant memories you should be.” Ember’s fur bristled as she spoke. “Tyria belonged to the charr before you mice burrowed your way into our lands, and we will have it long after you’re all gone.”

Riona snorted. “You should think before your speak. Remember, we’re going to be your captors, kitty.”

Ember moved effortlessly and suddenly, bringing her elbow around hard. Her first swat knocked Riona off her feet. Ember followed her, weaponless, but with her claws extended from her paw. She raised her paw again, this time for a blow that would rip Riona’s armor off.

Before the charr could bring down her arm, though, Gullik’s hand snaked out and plucked the fur on the back of Ember’s neck. With a sharp yank, he hauled her back so hard that Dougal wondered if Ember’s head might separate from her shoulders.

Snarling, Ember spun and launched herself at Gullik instead. He brought his free arm around and smacked her across her snout hard enough to knock her from her feet. Ember yowled at the norn. Dougal stepped between the two, his black blade in his hand, ready to put it to use if the charr came up swinging.

“Wait!” Riona said. “Don’t do it! We need her!”

Dougal glared down at the charr. Riona had provoked the attack but now was trying to undo the damage. Perhaps she didn’t want to go back to General Soulkeeper and explain what had happened. To Ember he said, “Are you done?”

Ember’s mouth twisted, and Dougal thought she might be preparing to bite off his face. Then the fight went out of her, and she nodded at him without speaking.

“It seems,” said the charr, measuring her words, “that I must make a habit of apologizing to you, Dougal Keane.” She touched the corner of her mouth, and her fur came away spattered with blood. To Riona she said, “But you had best remember that you have your stories, and we have ours, and the two differ greatly.”

Dougal sheathed his sword and stepped away from the charr. Gullik, his earlier violence forgotten, hauled Ember up and set her on her feet. “You are a ferocious warrior,” he told the charr. “I would enjoy fighting alongside you in battle someday. But put your claws away today.”

Dougal looked around: the alleyway was as empty as before. In Divinity’s Reach a half-dozen Seraph would have been on top of them, and shutters would be slamming shut and secured up and down the street. Here it was just another morning brawl.

They moved through the back alleys to the covered merchant district. The banked braziers and forges of the bazaar lit the blue sailcloth from below, giving the area an otherworldly feeling. The few merchant guards watched them carefully until they left their particular areas, then returned to their bottles and warm blankets.

Within sight of the asura gates, Riona called a halt. At this point she produced the manacles from Gullik’s pack, which also held Ember’s armor and weapon. Ember flinched at the sight of them but then held up her hands, wrists together.

“Wolf’s teeth!” said Gullik, softly. “A charr allowing a human to put her in chains? I must still be dreaming.”

“I have my orders.” Ember growled out her words. “I follow them.”

“You are braver than I,” said Gullik.

“It’s the only way we can get her through Ebonhawke.” Riona fixed Gullik with a glare that insisted he say nothing more, but he showed no signs of understanding it.

The norn sighed. “Ah, Ebonhawke. I know it well! I haven’t been there since they threw me out of the city for destroying one of their pubs.”

Ignoring Riona’s protests, Ember turned and stood up right in the norn’s face. Gullik’s smile vanished. “That’s something you failed to mention before. That’s not going to present a problem for us, is it?” the charr asked.

Gullik put up his hands to reassure her. “Of course not. That was years ago, and I’m sure they’ve rebuilt it by now.”

Ember turned back to Riona and let her finish attaching the chains. “If this fails to work, the Ebon Vanguard will hang me as a spy,” she said,. “But before I go, I’ll kill anyone responsible for causing that failure. This I promise.”

“She’s touchy,” Gullik said to Dougal. “But still as regal as a lioness. I think I like her!”

They emerged from the market near the half circle of asura gates, their stone and metal ovals flickering with stray, erratic flickers of eldritch power. At the Divinity’s Reach gate stood a trio of asura that Dougal had noticed coming in. They were practically vibrating with excitement, running from crystal to crystal and rune to rune, adjusting, modifying, and trying to tune the gate to the proper aetheric frequency.

“I’m not getting anything,” snapped one.

“Try the sympathetic diathuergic connection!” suggested the next.

“Hang on, I’m seeing the handshake invocation come through. Tuning in the test chord.”

“Got it!” said the first. “We are a go! Planar boring up and operating. Full chord registry. Amazing! We are live by five!”

“Kranxx, you are simply magnificent,” said the second to herself with admiration, staring at the gate.

“You lot,” snapped the third at Dougal’s group, “get up there! We can’t hold this for more than ten heartbeats! After that, the hard-linked resonant dampers reset and who knows where you’d end up.”

Ember held up her chains and shook them, then nodded at Riona, who was holding the other end. Riona adjusted her helmet and nodded back. They ran up the ramp and stepped through the gate. Dougal followed them.

He felt his skin dry as he stepped through the gate. He had not felt damp in seaside Lion’s Arch, but now all the moisture evaporated from his flesh, and the dry night air, still warm, forced its way into his lungs. Ebonhawke was perched on the edge of the Crystal Desert, and even in the dead of night the residual heat pulled the sweat from exposed flesh.

The far side of the gate was similar to that of Divinity’s Reach: set atop a low mound, surrounded by a thick wall with a parapet pointed in toward the gate. In the event that something unpleasant pushed its way through from the other side, there would be a welcoming committee on this side.

Except that the guard posts were empty at this time of night. And at the base of the stone mound a single nervous, frustrated asura stood rubbing his short fingers through a tangled thatch of long hair.

Of course, thought Dougal, Soulkeeper’s “man” in Ebonhawke would have to be an asura.

The asura looked at the adventurers. “You all made it? Good. Let me reset the dampers.” He toggled a few runes on the plinth, resetting the crystals to their original positions. The shimmering meniscus of the gate surface faded behind them. “We need to move quickly. And just so you know, this was Soulkeeper’s worst idea ever.”

“Hold!” came a voice from the gateway. A trio of Ebonhawke soldiers strode through the gates. Others, armed with rifles, appeared on the parapets surrounding the gate grounds.

“Put your hands up!” snarled the officer. “Reach for your weapons and you will be slain where you stand!”

They were trapped.