Narmora tossed the rags to the floor and practiced reaching for Keenfire. "You're worried that my dark side will make a traitor of me."

He nodded. "Yes."

"Well, Boпndil Doubleblade, at least you're honest." She bent down and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you think it's a little too late to doubt my loyalty?" Her expression was as hard and cruel as an дlf's and she looked more terrifying than ever.

He tapped his axes together nervously. Her words and gestures were making him jumpy. "Just do something so I know what's what," he said grumpily.

She smiled and left the shelter of the pillar. "Very well. I'll do something." Her face remained an inscrutable mask.

Nфd'onn was standing halfway along the walkway. He raised his right arm and traced a symbol in the air, conjuring the first runes of a devastating spell that would put pay to the defenders' determined resistance. In his bloated left hand he held his onyx-tipped staff of white maple. The black jewel was glimmering malevolently.

Narmora could tell that it was no use sneaking up on him and that an all-out assault would be equally doomed. She would have to rely on cunning and dissimulation to get within striking distance of Girdlegard's most dangerous and powerful wizard.

She held her hand to her bloodied neck, pressing on her wound. All her efforts were focused on appearing injured, and she made her performance as authentic as possible, swaying and stumbling along the bridge.

"Master," she groaned, "they've destroyed the tower… It was Andфkai…"

He froze and turned sharply. His waxy skin wobbled as if it were filled with rippling water. "Andфkai?" he rasped. "Where is she?"

"Outside, Master. She's using her magic against our troops." She took a few faltering steps toward him. Only ten paces remained, an impossibly long distance. "How can we stop her?"

Nфd'onn shuffled round to face her. She saw his huge girth, the puffed-up face that bore no resemblance to Nudin's, the blood seeping from his pores and running in red trickles across his skin and soaking his robes. Dark patches, some still glistening moistly, stained the green cloth that was caked with blood and grime. The smell was enough to make anyone retch.

"She's too powerful for you," he said, his voice cracking as if two people were speaking at once. "You won't be able to stop her. Show me where you last saw her and I'll take care of her myself. Lead the way."

Five paces.

I need to get closer to him. Narmora stumbled and sank to her knees. "Master, I'm hurt. Have pity on me and heal my wounds so I can serve you better."

"Later," he told her sharply. "Get up and…" His gaze had fallen on a particularly ferocious skirmish at the center of which was Tungdil, still locked in combat with Sinthoras and his orcs. "Lot-Ionan's groundling? But that's not…I mean, I thought the artifacts were…" He fell silent and collected his thoughts. "Well, things have got a good deal easier."

The magus closed his eyes. Narmora saw her opportunity and decided to act.

Slowly and silently so as not to attract attention, she rose from her knees and took a nervous step toward him, then another.

Four paces, three paces, two paces. She reached for Keenfire. One more pace.

"Master, look out!" someone shouted across the hall.

Narmora drew the ax and brought it down with all her might. Nфd'onn turned away from Tungdil and directed the curse at her.

Narmora felt as if she were staring into the sun. The dazzling light seared into her eyes, and before she knew it, she was flying backward through the air. She thudded down, landing heavily on the walkway, still blinded, but with Keenfire gripped tightly in her hand.

She couldn't see Nфd'onn, but it was obvious that he'd evaded her blow. Why am I still alive, then? She ran her hands over her body and felt the smooth surface of the amulet given to her by Andфkai. That must be it.

"Finish her off, and bring the ax to me," she heard the magus order. The clicking of his wooden staff against the flagstones receded into the distance.

Little by little her eyes cleared and she caught a hazy glimpse of the malachite robe disappearing down the staircase. Gasping with pain, she struggled up, intent on running after the traitor and cutting him down. The amulet would protect her.

She was almost on her feet when a shadow hurtled out of nowhere. Whooshing over her head, the dark figure landed lightly on the walkway in front of her. Two short swords pointed menacingly at her chest.

"You should have known that the Perished Land would allow me to avenge myself," said Caphalor.

Narmora stared at the deep wound where her blade had gashed his throat. "If I thought you were a danger, I would have beheaded you," she said coldly. "You're no threat to us." She held the ax on high, knowing that Caphalor would kill her if he sensed she was afraid.

The дlf lunged at her, snarling, and Narmora realized that she would never keep pace with his attack. She retaliated with an offensive of her own and laid open the undead warrior's shoulder. The ax cut into his flesh, but Caphalor was undaunted.

"I'll cut you to ribbons, eat your flesh, and paint a portrait of your ravaged body with your blood," he spat, raising his weapons again. Harrying her with his swords, he maneuvered her closer and closer to the edge of the walkway. Belatedly she noticed that she was only a hand span away from plummeting to her death.

Caphalor dropped down suddenly and swiped at her calves. She leaped over him, whirled around, and swung her ax to finish his undead existence.

But the дlf had thrown himself to the floor and rolled over, ready to thrust his swords toward her as she delivered the final blow.

The ax head scraped along the stone floor, sparks flying everywhere, then sliced sideways into the дlf's neck, settling the matter forever. Caphalor's eyes widened.

But his final maneuver had not been in vain.

His swords had pierced Narmora's armor and embedded themselves beneath her collarbone. The half дlf found herself skewered above his corpse, unable to think or move. Through the haze of her consciousness she saw the amulet fall from her neck, hit Caphalor, and bounce off the walkway. The leather band, sliced in two by the дlf, unraveled onto his chest.

I still haven't… She tried to call to the others, but her gored chest and her ebbing strength turned her shout to a whisper. She could feel herself slipping out of consciousness and there was nothing she could do.

Her legs gave way and she slumped over Caphalor, her chest still propped up by his swords. Suddenly she felt unbearably cold. Incapable of even the smallest movement, she dangled above her foe.

Furgas… She had nothing left to give. Her fingers opened against her will, and Keenfire fell from her grip. Clattering to the walkway, the ax bounced against the flagstones and flew over the edge.