blinked as thunder rolled. Hruucan still stood in the ring, tentacles streaming and swaying.
'We're not done,' the dolgaunt rasped.
He leaped into the air and his legs snapped out. Both feet hit Singe's aching chest, the dolgaunt's entire weight behind them. Singe flew back to slam into one of the towering torch poles. He slid onto the ground, legs sprawled. Darkness swirled around him, threatening to draw him down.
No, he told himself, fighting to resist that pull. No! Not now!
Somewhere lightning flashed again. Singe's head fell back against the pole, staring up at a sky that tossed in growing agitation-and at a long oil-soaked rag that had come loose from the torch above. It swayed back and forth in the wind, fat drops of flaming oil shaking off it and dripping down. Singe watched one splatter against his hand, the magic of his ring sucking the flame away before it burned him. A desperate plan formed in his head.
Hruucan looked at him for a moment longer, then turned away. Singe thrust himself to his feet and dove for the dolgaunt's back. Hruucan spun around, but Singe grabbed him and pulled him close. The writhing buds on Hruucan's skin reacted as if they had minds of their own, burrowing into Singe's flesh out of instinct alone. The wizard gasped and held on with one hand as he stretched the other out free. 'Let's see you dodge this,' he choked-and hissed a word of magic. A tiny, intense tongue of flame sprang into the palm of his free hand. Hruucan's horrid face tightened.
Singe tipped his hand and let the tiny flame fall.
Fire exploded around them. Hruucan tried to leap away from the flame, but Singe clung tight, holding him back. The dolgaunt's mouth opened to scream and fire rushed in. Singe closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of Hruucan's death. He couldn't shut out the feel of it though. The dolgaunt stiffened in his arms, writhing skin turning crisp and hard under his fingers. The buds that had burrowed into his flesh burst against him like a thousand tiny sparks.
Protected by his grandfather's ring, all Singe felt of the flames was a pleasant warmth. When that faded, he opened his eyes.
He held a blackened corpse, mouth frozen wide, tendrils and tentacles seared away. The wizard shuddered in horror and thrust it away. What had been Hruucan hit the scorched ground with a dry crunch and a spray of cinders. Singe swayed, suddenly weak, and sat down hard.
All around the ring, the swarming crowd had turned back, startled by the flames. Fire had consumed two of the torchpoles, but by the light of the remaining torches, Singe could see the pale faces of the Bonetree clan and a few startled dolgrims staring at him. Dah'mir had fallen silent. The distant sounds of fighting on the top of the mound went on, punctuated by another bolt of lightning and a high, unnatural squeal, but the fighting on the ground ended in a clash of metal, a familiar growl, and the thud of a falling body.
Geth leaped into the torchlight. Natrac and two other orcs were with him. The shifter spun, protecting the others as a dolgrim tried to take them from behind. A vicious-looking sword that Singe had never seen before flashed twilight-purple. In an instant, the dolgrim had one less arm and one more mouth, a jagged slash that opened across its belly. Another blow hacked deep into its deformed skull and it dropped. Geth wrenched the sword free and joined Natrac and the orcs in a cluster around Singe.
As Bonetree hunters and more dolgrims began to push in, forming a new and threatening crowd around a now much smaller ring, he spared a glance down at the wizard. 'I had a feeling it was you in here,' he growled.
'The fire?' asked Singe with a weak smile.
'The screaming.' Geth glanced at the orcs. 'Orshok, help him. Krepis, can you see what's happening on the mound?'
As the larger of the orcs tried to peer off above into the night, the other squatted down quickly, pulling a flask from a pouch. 'A healing potion,' he said to Singe, and the wizard realized with a start that he was the same orc who had helped them in Zarash'ak. The orc opened the flask. A smell like bitter tea mixed with overripe fruit stung Singe's nostrils. He twitched his head away out of reflex, but the motion sent a spasm of pain down his back. The orc grabbed his face and turned it back to him, forcing the flask against his lips. 'Drink,' he ordered.
The potion tasted as bad as it smelled, but as it worked its way down his throat, a cool sensation spread through his body that was utterly different from Fause's foul healing. The worst of his pain eased away, leaving him with only bruises and scrapes. Singe drew a deep breath.
'I'd enjoy that,' said Natrac. 'It could be your last.' He thrust a long knife fastened where his missing hand should have been at a Bonetree hunter as she took a step closer. She bared her teeth and darted back.
The orc helped Singe to his feet. The wizard squeezed in between him and Geth. Together with Natrac and the second orc, they numbered five. He looked out at the massed hunters and dolgrims who clustered around them just out of sword reach, shifting and jostling for best position in the coming slaughter. 'You healed me for this?' he asked.
'You're welcome,' Geth grunted. 'Where's Dandra?'
'In the mound. Unless-' His eyes darted across the crowd. He might have been wrong, but it seemed like one tall hunter was missing from the battle. Breath hissed between his teeth. 'Ashi. Twelve moons, Ashi's gone for her!'
'Ashi?'
'Long story. She's changed sides. She's blood of Deneith, Geth!'
The shifter cursed. 'So we don't know where Dandra is. Any spells handy?'
'A couple.' Singe tried to gauge the effect his magical flames might produce. 'I might be able to open us a path to the mound, but getting away again would be something else.'
'We'll worry about that when we have to,' said Geth. He hesitated, then added, 'Singe, about Narath-if we get out of this, we'll talk. No more running.'
Singe shot him sharp glance. 'Deal,' he said.
Geth looked at the two orcs and Natrac. 'Ready?' They nodded. Geth looked to Singe. 'Do it,' he said. Singe drew a breath and spread his hand, calling the words of a spell to mind…
But before he could cast the spell, a ripple and a murmur spread through their enemies. The mass of bodies surrounding them was pulling back, a path opening through the ranks. A path that led directly toward the mound- and Dah'mir and Medala.
The pair was still on their platform, though they looked distinctly less calm than Singe had ever seen them. Dah'mir sat stiffly in his chair as yet another bolt of lightning flashed overhead. Medala crouched on her seat, flinching like the dog at the thunder. When she caught sight of Singe along the open path though, her hand snapped out to point at him. 'You defy Dah'mir!' she shrieked. 'You defy him! I'll turn your mind inside out! I'll feed you your own fears! I'll-'
'Medala!' snapped Dah'mir. 'Enough! Sit down!' His green-eyed gaze snapped around and he glared at them. 'Give me Tetkashtai. Give me the crystal.'
Singe felt waves of charisma wash over him, Dah'mir's astounding and eerie presence beating against him. He wasn't sure why he was fighting the green-eyed man. If he'd had Dandra's crystal, he'd have given it up to him.
Geth just stood up straight, his eyes hard. 'No,' he said.
The denial seemed to break Dah'mir's spell over all of them. Singe blinked and shook his head as Dah'mir sat back sharply. His pale, beautiful face was contorted with incoherent rage. If his presence had been overwhelming before, it was now terrifying. Singe's legs shook. Medala let out a screech that was almost inhuman. Around them, the Bonetree hunters and even the dolgrims were trembling and falling back.
Dah'mir rose and stepped down from the platform, the black leather of his robes whispering around him. The aura of his presence surrounded him like twilight, dark and growing darker with every heartbeat. He seemed to loom over them all. Even Geth was pale. He raised his arms, crossing sword and gauntlet before him, ready for a fight that the expression on his face said he knew he wouldn't win.
'The crystal!' roared Dah'mir in a voice that rocked the night. 'Give it to me or-'
His words died in the flash of lightning that fell down out of the sky, dropping on him in a twisting bolt so intense that the ground shook. All around the spot where Dah'mir had stood, hunters were thrown back. The platform on which he had sat was battered aside and Medala sent flying. Even fifteen paces away, the energy of the bolt stung Singe's arm as he flung it up to shield his eyes. At his side, Geth staggered back, then staggered again as thunder hammered them.
