Like an overripe fruit, the magus burst, spilling a foul mess of flesh, blood, and entrails. A finger-length splinter of malachite shot out and was swept away in the reeking cascade.

Slowly, a shimmering wisp of mist detached itself from the wreckage. It expanded rapidly, coursing with black, silver, and crimson flashes and looming five paces in the air. Fist-sized orbs burned red within its cavernous eyes as it stared with hatred and malice at Tungdil. Then it shifted its gaze to the maga.

It needs a new victim.

The swirling mist reached out toward Andфkai, who took a step backward. She raised her sword, but the blade slid straight through it. The mist shrank, sprouting thin transparent arms and imprisoning the maga in its grasp.

Groaning, Andфkai staggered and fell to her knees as fingers of mist prized themselves experimentally between her jaws. The being was determined to find a new home, with or without her permission.

Tungdil leaped toward her, bringing down his ax just as the flickering column of mist readied itself to glide down her throat.

Keenfire's runes sparkled as it hewed the mist in two. There was a loud hiss as the mist drew back like a wounded beast. Tungdil closed in, swinging his ax and slashing at the mist. Thin wisps floated through the hall and dispersed into nothingness, but the demon was still alive and seemed intent on escaping to the ceiling.

In that case I'll have to try another tactic. Tungdil climbed onto an upturned pillar. Pain shot through his wounded arm and leg as he sprinted forward, casting himself into the air and brandishing Keenfire. "For Vraccas!"

He had timed the leap well. Soaring into the middle of the mist, his blade found its target. Runes blazing, the ax head left a cometlike trail of light. The diamonds sparkled fiercely.

For the span of a heartbeat Tungdil hovered at the heart of the demon. At first it seemed as if the mist had stopped his fall; then there was a tearing noise and a terrible groan.

Tungdil plunged through the mist, skidded across the floor, and was saved by his chain mail from serious cuts and grazes. Looking round, he saw he had punched a hole through the flickering demon. Slowly the being sank to the ground, turning first gray, then black, then disappearing altogether. In the end there was nothing left.

No one moved. Dwarves and beasts alike had witnessed the death of the magus and the destruction of the demon. It was deathly still.

One of the дlf, who moments earlier had been spurring the hordes against the dwarves, reached to his neck, screaming with pain. Suddenly his amulet burst apart, tearing him to pieces. Soon the other дlfar and a number of orcish chieftains were dead or dying, slain by the magus's gifts.

A bugle sounded the attack, and the dwarves of the three kingdoms fell upon their foes.

The bцgnilim were the first to flee, followed by the orcs, but the children of the Smith showed no pity or mercy, funneling them into the narrow passageways where the battle continued. In the vast halls, the ceilings echoed with the clatter and ringing of furious axes.

Slowly Tungdil picked himself up from the floor. Balyndis was beside him, helping him to his feet. "You did it!" She leaned forward and gave him a lingering kiss on the lips.

It was a moment he had dreamed of, but the truth about his lineage spoiled it. "Only because I'm a thirdling," he said bitterly. A dwarf killer, he added silently.

She nodded. "Praise be to Vraccas! Nфd'onn would still be alive if you weren't!" She smiled. "You're a true dwarf, Tungdil. I don't care which folk you belong to. I know in my heart that I can trust you, and that's what counts."

He gave her hand a grateful squeeze. Let's hope the others are as understanding.

Meanwhile, Andфkai and a unit of dwarves had stormed the walkway and were attending to the wounded Narmora. Boпndil had been cut down by Caphalor and needed the maga's attentions as well. Djerun was back on his feet again, his visor firmly closed and his face still a mystery.

Dwarven healers hurried over with water, balms, and dressings. Now that the duel with the demon was over, Tungdil was acutely aware of his injuries and allowed himself to be salved and bandaged. He found a worthy place for Keenfire in Giselbert Ironeye's belt.

He didn't have much opportunity to relax. Already Rodario was hurrying toward him.

"My apologies for bothering Girdlegard's valiant hero, but I think we should check on Furgas," he said anxiously. "Who knows what…"

"Valiant hero?" Tungdil grinned. Not bad for a scholar. I hope Frala and Lot-Ionan can see me now. He straightened up and checked his bandages. "In that case, I'll have to rejoin the battle. In books the hero always keeps fighting to the end."

"Blasted дlfar, they always creep up on you. I didn't hear him coming. He loomed up like a shadow and attacked me from behind." Boпndil, his chest swathed in bandages, hobbled down the stairs. "That's right, scholar, just like in a book. My brother would be proud of you."

"Boпndil!" Smiling with relief, Tungdil thumped him gently on the back: The thought of losing another friend had been too much to bear. "Let's check on Furgas."

Tungdil, Rodario, Balyndis, Boпndil, and Djerun hurried away. Andфkai caught up with them after a few paces: They had started the journey as strangers and wanted to end it as friends. Blacksaddle, Kingdom of Gauragar, Girdlegard, Winter, 6234th Solar Cycle A chill wind was buffeting the flat summit of the Blacksaddle, but shafts of sunlight shone through the clouds and warmed the earth, heralding the coming of spring.

"For many cycles this mountain was known as a place of foreboding, a dreaded stronghold where a plot was hatched to destroy the dwarven race. Today's events have changed all that. From this day forth, the Blacksaddle will be seen as a symbol of hope, a symbol of a better future in which elves, men, and dwarves will work together for the good of Girdlegard." Gandogar paused for a moment and surveyed the assortment of leaders and warriors gathered on top of the Blacksaddle.

Half a cycle ago he would have ridiculed the idea of elven, human, and dwarven rulers uniting on the accursed peak to celebrate a battle fought as allies, not foes.

His eyes traveled over the faces before him. Prince Mallen of Ido was sitting beside Lord Liъtasil of Вlandur. Next came King Balendilнn Onearm of the clan of the Firm Fingers and Queen Xamtys II of the clan of the Stubborn Streaks, and behind them were Nate, Bruron, and the other human sovereigns, not forgetting Andфkai, of course.

After that, there was a short gap to the first row of commoners, made up of Girdlegard's most distinguished warriors-dwarves, elves, and men. They were straining to hear what their leaders were discussing. Gandogar could see Tungdil and Balyndis among them, with Djerun towering like a pinnacle at their side.

"Together we defeated the monstrous issue of Nudin the Knowledge-Lusty's alliance with a demon from the north. Nфd'onn is dead, the Perished Land has been banished from Girdlegard, and nature is returning to her ancient ways. Together we achieved all this, and our kingdoms were saved, saved because we buried old grudges, overcame our mutual distrust, and joined forces in Girdlegard's hour of need." He raised his arms. "We prevailed! Is this not reason enough to forget our past quarrels?"

He waited for a moment, allowing his words to take effect.

"You, Prince Mallen of Ido, rallied the human warriors after their defeat at Porista and led the united army to the Blacksaddle in a courageous stand against Nфd'onn." He smiled solemnly at Idoslane's ruler, then turned to face the elven leader. "And you, Lord Liъtasil of Вlandur, welcomed us into your kingdom when we asked for your help. Your heart must have counseled you against it, but you came to our aid." He looked at Balendilнn and Xamtys. "And you, worthy children of the Smith, you reforged the bonds between our kingdoms and honored the duty entrusted to us by Vraccas." He raised his voice triumphantly. "Friends, together we rescued Girdlegard!"