She began the ritual.
The elf padded through the tunnel to the catacombs, her hand on the rapier hilt. She cast her eyes one way, then the other, then proceeded, as though certain she was safe. She moved on, stealthy and hidden to all sight.
All sight except the sight that comes with a demon prince's power.
A massive form fell out of the darkness above, crashing down like a falling wall. There was no way she could dodge, no way she could evade impending death.
Tlork was stunned when his hulking maul passed right through her, to smash into the stone, and he landed with a roar on nothing. The elf danced in front of the troll, whipping her blade out of its sheath.
Meanwhile, a hand reached out of the shadows and plucked up a certain rapier, which had been lying against the stone.
He'd missed? How? He'd clung to the stalactites, waiting, then fallen when there had been no chance.
Only then-when the blade darted in-did Tlork realize he'd been tricked.
Twilight thrust the Hizagkuur rapier deep into the troll's side without a hiss or cry-only a grim frown that bespoke firm purpose. The keen gray-white steel laid aside hard sinew and muscle like warm pudding and speared one lung, then a heart, then the other lung. Electricity and fire burned along its length, searing the tissue before it could regenerate-at least, so the elf hoped.
Twilight's knuckles slammed painfully into the basket hilt as the blade abruptly halted against Tlork's far ribs, and she pushed harder, with all her strength. The hilt buried itself against the troll's nearer ribs. She felt that if she were any stronger, she might end up with her elbows inside him.
'Try fighting with that wound,' Twilight dared Tlork.
To her disappointment, that was exactly what the troll did. With a mighty roar, he whirled and writhed, shaking her furiously.
If Betrayal had been strapped to her wrist, likely Tlork would have wrenched her arm from her body. As it was, the tension snapped her arm back and she shrieked. She thought she heard bones snap before Tlork finally flung her away like so much refuse. And if even she hadn't, then she certainly did when her ribs crunched against the stone.
Twilight sank, broken, to the ground with a breathless sob.
Still burning, Betrayal stayed inside the troll, but the flesh kept regenerating. Why hadn't she considered that the demonflesh might resist flame, as did that of true demons?
The troll barreled toward her, his hammer held high.
Without a sound, the second Twilight danced in and stabbed its own Betrayal into Tlork's back. The sword wasn't real, but neither was it illusion. Its chilling darkness sapped the troll's strength at a touch. Tlork faltered and the hammer dipped in a pace-wide circle whose edge was a thumb's length from the real Twilight's head. The troll spun and growled in confusion at its attacker, and Twilight dared to breathe.
After that breath, though, pain overwhelmed the elf, and the illusion wrapping her shadow faltered. The false Twilight's skin shivered and vanished into ephemeral black-features bled away, leaving only darkness. The elf- shadow did not fade, though, and slashed at Tlork with unnaturally stretching fingers. The troll tried to smash it with his hammer, but the weapon passed through harmlessly, giving Twilight hope.
Then a gem embedded in Tlork's chest flared golden, and the shadow recoiled soundlessly. It cowered, as though rapt, then fled. Twilight knew only one thing that could scare a member of the living dead: the power of a god or, in this case, a demon.
Tlork spun back, slavering.
Then Gargan was there, catching Tlork's hammer haft in two mighty hands. He locked his muscles, holding the deadly weapon perhaps a pace from Twilight.
As Twilight had planned, Gargan attacked from hiding, but why did he not deal a deathblow with his sword? Was he a fool, thinking to save her and sacrifice his chance?
No, Twilight realized with a shudder. He must have seen Betrayal's failure, and surmised that Blackwyrm would fail as well. Neither could slay Tlork. And instead of running, as he should have, he had killed himself in a vain play to save her.
Twilight wanted to scream, but a hand came out of the darkness and covered her mouth. Another arm encircled her torso, under the shoulders, and she could do nothing but watch Tlork and Gargan struggle, heavy muscles one against the other, as her limp form was dragged back through the shadows. She saw the troll and goliath approaching the edge of the chasm Gestal's spell had torn, pushing and pulling…
Then Gargan's foot slipped, his leg crunched into the stone, and he went over, pulling Tlork with him. Twilight could do nothing but gasp, tasting leather pressed against her lips, as she watched her last ally plummet to his death.
'Foxdaughter!' he shouted as he fell. Twilight saw Betrayal, its gray edge burning, spinning, end over end, up from the chasm. It clattered, sparking, to the floor. With his last act, Gargan had thrown her the sword.
Then something struck her head sharply, she felt wetness, and darkness fell.
Gestal watched Tlork fall in to the depths of his blood pool. The troll and the goliath still fought, wrestling and punching, all the way into the darkness.
He didn't bother to watch their inevitable demise. Gestal was much more interested in Twilight. The pool couldn't find her-she had her Shroud-but Gestal knew she had returned. Somewhere.
Well enough, he decided. She shall be along presently.
With a hand that had only three and a half fingers-the others were still growing-he swirled the bowl of blood. The image died.
Her senses returned soon after the hands released her to rest and recover against the stone wall. Twilight coughed, pointedly aware of the trickle of salty blood that ran over her split chin. Broken ribs. She hoped nothing bled inside… much. Her right arm was useless, splintered by the troll's fury. She needed to catch her breath.
'Thank you, Davoren,' she murmured. 'I never expected you to save me.'
The warlock, scanning the darkness they had just left with his fiendish eyes, grunted. The sounds of Tlork's roars and squeals had vanished, presumably down the pit, but he would return. They both knew it.
Slowly, as she panted and groaned, Twilight climbed to her feet with Davoren's help. She leaned against the wall, her head still aching and the respective agonies in her stomach and breast biting at one another. Her fingers itched for Betrayal; it lay just visible a dagger's cast distant, at the end of the tiny crawl tunnel through which the warlock had dragged her. She started that way. She had to save Gargan-she had to…
'It's appropriate how you word your thanksgiving,' Davoren said behind her, the chill of his words freezing her in mid limp. 'I did save you-for myself.'
As Twilight turned, Davoren's shoulder slammed beneath her breast, crunching the broken ribs and crushing her against the wall, and the warlock rammed the poisoned stiletto into her side.
Twilight had time only to gasp before she felt the freezing venom course through her blood. Her eyes widened-and stayed that way.
'A taste of your own trickery, then,' Davoren said. 'I couldn't let some brute kill you-not when I have blessed you with my oh-so exquisite hatred for so long.'
Twilight's mouth hung open as though to scream. His wound had not been a fatal stroke, but a stab in the gut. It would take painful hours to expire. Especially…
