move. Even his tentacles were still, poised like serpents. Singe risked another step.
Hruucan darted forward. His hands, open flat, thrust out in a flurry of short, sharp strikes that seemed to twine together with the attacks of his tentacles. Singe flung up his rapier, trying to put the blade in the way of that rain of blows. He stumbled backward as he parried, his feet raising little clouds of dust from the ground.
Then the dolgaunt pulled back, leaving him staggering-and wondering if he'd actually stopped Hruucan's attack or if the foul creature had only been toying with him.
The noise of the crowd was slowly dying back, overwhelming roars giving way to rippling shouts. Singe drew a hissing breath and moved to the side, circling around Hruucan. The dolgaunt moved to match him, always staying low and ready to strike. His tentacles swayed and stirred to either side of him as if each was trying independently to lure Singe into an attack. He didn't fall for it.
His free hand darted forward and he snapped a seething word of magic. Flames flared from his spread fingertips, splashing across the ring-but abruptly it was as if Hruucan was simply no longer there. To the soaring cheers of the crowd, the dolgaunt whirled aside, flowing away from the fiery magic in a tight spin of arms and tentacles. Singe turned to follow him but Hruucan was faster. His spinning form almost seemed to unravel, tentacles stretching out to slap at Singe. The wizard dodged away from one, but the other caught him with a hard slap across his face.
As he stumbled and reeled from the force of blow, the other tentacle snaked back and lashed around his legs, ripping his feet out from under him. Singe slammed down hard onto his back. He sucked in breath desperately and scrambled to regain his feet.
Hruucan met him with a pair of punches so fast and hard they lifted him up and threw him back. Singe hit the ground a second time, his chest aching, his lungs sucking hard for air.
The night shook with the roars of the Bonetree clan and Dah'mir's dolgrims. Singe rolled over onto his side and looked up to see Hruucan sinking back into his ready stance. The wizard cleared his throat, spat blood onto the dry ground, and climbed back to his feet. Forcing himself to stand straight, he lifted his rapier and offered the dolgaunt a taunting salute.
Hruucan's tentacles lashed the air angrily and he threw himself forward.
Ashi clenched her teeth and hissed as Hruucan unleashed another flurry of blows against Singe. Unlike his first furious attack, though, it was clear that the dolgaunt was no longer playing with his opponent. His strikes were real and hard. A hand, fingers curled like claws, slipped past Singe's guard to tear at him.
Whatever magic the wizard had cast on himself seemed to offer him some scant protection though: Hruucan's blow skittered across Singe's torso without even tearing his shirt. Singe slapped away his arm and thrust hard with his rapier into the dolgaunt's side.
But not hard enough. Hruucan lurched away and stood upright easily without a mark on him. A tentacle darted at Singe, slamming at his side in return. Singe lurched as well, but he didn't stand upright so easily.
He was going to lose, Ashi knew. It was inevitable. Hruucan was too fast for the wizard's magic and too powerful for his blade.
Ashi glanced beyond the crowd toward the dark mouth of the ancestor mound. No one was watching it. Nothing moved within. The fire of the Bonetree hunter who should have been standing honor guard guttered low, abandoned.
She hadn't told Singe all the tales about the mound that were spoken around the fires of the Bonetree. Stories of passages into the sacred depths and shrines built from dragonshards, yes-but also whispers of halls home to ghosts, of dark vaults where Dah'mir 'prayed' with the outclanners who were sometimes led into the mound, of the lairs of Khyber's children and monsters too horrible to bear the light of day.
The crowd let out another roar. Ashi twisted back to the ring. Singe knelt on the ground, clutching at his belly. His rapier lay on the ground several paces away. Hruucan walked over to it-and kicked the weapon back to him disdainfully. Singe grabbed it, but Ashi could see the pain on his face as he rose.
Her eyes darted to Dah'mir, watching the fight with the benevolent expression of a doting father. At his side, Medala wore the staring hunger of a hunting panther.
All around the ring, she could see a similar bloodlust on the faces of people she knew as friends and comrades in arms. Breff leaped and shouted, cheering for a monster who roused only disgust in Ashi, a monster who had-by Breff's own account-driven the returning hunters almost to death. This is my clan, she told herself.
Would any of them have stood by her as Singe had stood by Dandra? Dah'mir hadn't stood by her, that was certain. By her or by the Bonetree.
Her hand fell to the huntmaster's sword. In spite of Singe's explanations, she wasn't sure she fully grasped the idea of Sentinel Marshals. 'Honor blade,' though-that was something she could understand. Maybe she carried the blood of Deneith, maybe she didn't. Either way, she knew that she carried the sword of a hero.
As Singe stumbled under another blow, Ashi slipped back from the crowd and darted for the mound. Scooping up a flaming brand from the absent guard's fire, she drew the honor blade and walked cautiously into the darkness of the tunnel.
'Someone's getting beaten bad out there,' said Natrac.
'How do you know?' Geth asked. He checked the byeshk sword on his hip again, making certain the weapon would slide easily from the makeshift scabbard. Behind them, Krepis and the half dozen orcs that Batul had judged to be the best fighters among the raiding party were doing much the same thing and giving their weapons one last check. Orshok was offering up a last prayer for guidance and protection. Somewhere above them, Batul and the other raiders would be reaching the top of the mound.
'Listen to the crowd,' said Natrac. 'You can tell by the way they cheer. It's always the same voices-they're only cheering for one person. That means one person is giving all the good hits so the other must be taking them.'
'Maybe they're all on one side.'
'No, when that happens they boo a lot more and groan when the favorite takes a hit,' Natrac explained-just as a collective gasp rose from the front of the mound.
'Like that?' Geth asked.
Natrac shook his head. 'Crotch hit. A crowd will groan for that no matter who takes it.'
Geth glanced at the half-orc. 'You know a lot about crowds,' he commented and Natrac gritted his teeth.
'Dagga,' he said. 'You pick that up in an arena.'
The shifter's eyebrows rose. 'You were a gladiator?'
'I didn't say that, did I?'
Orshok moved up beside them. The young druid looked nervous. 'Are you all right?' asked Geth.
Orshok nodded.
Geth snorted. 'Grandfather Rat's naked tail. You're terrified.'
The orc flushed. 'This is a bigger fight than I've ever faced before,' he admitted.
Geth reached out and punched him in the shoulder. 'You did good when you came to our rescue in Zarash'ak. You fought like a veteran.'
'I fought without thinking about it,' Orshok said. 'I just acted. I wasn't standing and waiting for a signal!'
'Then when Batul's signal comes, just do that again. Waiting may be hard, but it's the fighting that kills you.'
The unseen crowd exploded with another roar. Geth bared his teeth and growled-then twitched at the feeling of something climbing up his leg. He looked down to see a tiny blue lizard blinking at him. Batul's signal. The old druid and the raiders had reached the top of the mound. Geth brushed the lizard away gently.
'We're ready,' he rasped.
Natrac, Orshok, Krepis, and the rest of his band clustered close. Drawing a deep breath, Geth led the way around the mound.
The crowd came into view, a thick press of humans and dolgrims. Geth resisted the urge to try and see who was in the ring. The mouth of the mound was close and the way was clear. No one was watching them. A sentinel's fire beside the mouth had burned low. He turned for the shadowed tunnel.
Krepis's breath hissed at same moment that Orshok froze. 'What is it?' snarled Geth sharply, glancing back.
