The tavern was quiet. The numbers had dwindled, and while friendships hadn't exactly been formed, no one looked forward to fighting each other. Drizz, Entreri, Druia, and Enrique all sat together. Enrique had offered a toast to Adenae, but no one had responded.

Only one person was upbeat and cheery, and he entered the tavern for the first time since coming to the island. Styne walked through the doors to gather what information he could about his next opponent, whomever that might be. He felt confident with Gunthor and wasn't worried about the fight, but now that they were down to the final cut of fighters, his competition would get more innovative. Best to know what they are thinking.

Druia was the only one to look up and regard the battlemage. "What do you want? This is a place for fighters."

Styne rested his right hand on the pommel of his massive sword. "Would you like to test me?"

"If you feel that confident in your abilities, why are you not fighting?"

"I might be good, but my brother is better."

Druia rolled her eyes at the comment and went back to her drink. She might be the young and inexperienced one at the table, but she wasn't that stupid. No one bought that he was Gunthor's brother.

Styne ignored the look and spun a chair away from an adjacent table to sit with the fighters. He rested his elbows on the back of the chair and regarded each carefully. "Why the long faces? Come on, guys. You each won big." He turned to Drizzt. "Except you, but you're going to fight the vampire and undoubtedly win." He turned to Enrique. "And why are you so quiet? I'd expect you to be having the most fun of all. You'd think you just fought Cayne again."

Enrique was unbelievably quick. His mug went hard and fast toward the mage, stuttering only briefly so the ale inside could shoot out before the cup followed. Styne had no time to dodge and took the ale full in the face, his eyes open. He tried to start a spell, but the mug crashed into his forehead. He lost concentration momentarily and started to stumble backward, but Enrique's hand was around his throat, choking any potential spell before it could be uttered.

The other three people at the table backed up a bit. This was far more than just an annoyed reaction. Something else was going on here.

"Dekaina!" Enrique called suddenly. His sponsor appeared in a wink. She was dressed as modestly as her body would allow and had a severe look on her face for the first time. "Honey, the five of us would like some privacy."

The succubus nodded and summoned a shimmering shield around the table. Enrique turned back to Styne once he felt the barrier was in place. The mage was trying to blink the alcohol out of his eyes. His hand went back to his pommel, but Enrique tightened his hold on Styne's neck, and his right hand held his dagger to the mage's side, the tip poking through his chainmail.

"Deltrophan has eyes everywhere. Now we can talk in private, and believe me, you are going to talk . . ." he looked deep into his captive's eyes, "Garristyne."

Styne tried to express his disbelief through words but couldn't get a syllable out. Enrique saw he was starting to turn blue and let go. "Understand that if you make a move, I will be the last one to hit you, but only because I'd rather watch other people do it."

Styne didn't need the warning to be repeated. From the caliber of fighters around the table and how they were all trained on him, he could see that his first strike advantage was lost. And with them, there would be no second strike. While he tried to regain his breath, Enrique turned to his associates.

"Cayne was a fighter from the last tournament. He had me beat. I'm not saying he was better, but he had me beat. I had made a few mistakes, and he was able to disarm me and had me wounded on the ground. He made a fatal mistake, though. As I reached for the hold-out dagger I keep in my vest for a throw I'm sure he could have ducked or blocked, he let loose with a volley of magic missiles to knock the weapon from my hand. It worked, but Deltrophan halted the fight right there, accused Cayne of cheating, and banished him to . . . somewhere."

Enrique looked to Styne, who had now caught his breath. "Styne could not have known that name or at least the implications of it unless he had been there."

He turned back to look at his audience. "There was a mage apprentice named Garristyne that took great offense to Deltrophan's punishment. He saw Cayne's attack as a perfect combination of magic and melee. He insisted on learning how to use a weapon and thought that any true mage searching for power and knowledge would be foolish not to do likewise. Deltrophan disagreed, and Garristyne was kicked out of the academy."

Enrique looked again at Styne. "Did I miss anything?"

"Only that I was right," the battlemage rasped, his throat still not working correctly. "I've honed my weapon and my magic, and none of you could stand against me." It seemed like a pretty hollow claim given his condition, blind from ale and barely able to talk, but no one challenged him.

"So why did you come back?" Entreri asked. "Was it just to watch your mute sibling fight?"

Styne understood why the others were interested in this development. Their lives depended on the outcome of this tournament, and if this mage were cheating or had ulterior motives other than combat, it would significantly affect them. "You need not worry. Continue fighting. Kill Gunthor for all I care. I am here for Deltrophan, nothing else. This tournament was just a means to an end. I needed access to the island, and mortals can't get here without help."

"You plan to kill him?" Druia asked. "Just like that."

Styne frowned at the sarcasm. "It is obviously not that simple. I am waiting for my moment and my time. I was the most gifted of his students, and he knew it. He saw me as a rival, not a pupil, and my desire to pursue the art of weapons gave me the potential to elevate my craft above him. He knew this, and he banished me. I am here to show him he was wrong. I am here to claim what should have been mine."

"Eternal life," Drizzt said, figuring it all out.

"I've been alive off this island for over 200 years, but I can still feel myself aging."

"But you aren't fighting in the tournament," Druia pointed out, "how do you expect to obtain it?"

"Deltrophan never fought in a tournament either," Styne replied. "He lures students to this island, promising them a chance at eternal life. Promising them the answers to every question imaginable. Promising them the power to defeat death itself, but they are lies. He pretends to delight in sharing his knowledge, but he keeps his true secrets locked away. He would tell you that no one has proven themselves worthy. No one has achieved his level of enlightenment. He would tell you that none of his students have reached his level. That is not true. I knew of several that had. I am just the only one that has the nerve to stand up to him."

"Your idea of standing up to him is altering your name and appearance and pretending to be a petty escort to a mindless brute?" Enrique asked.

"I am waiting for my time," Styne repeated. "My vendetta has nothing to do with you. What do you care if Deltrophan dies? It will likely save your lives. Only one of you will survive anyway, and if I am successful, you won't have to return to defend your title. If I am not, then you will be entertained by the encounter."

Styne had regained most of his motor skills and stood to leave. No one made a move to stop him. He turned around and stopped dead as his eyes met Dekaina. She was looking as alluring as possible again. "If you should gain eternal life," she reached out and stroked his muscular arm, "look me up. I've always heard that a battle mage can do amazing things with his . . . sword."

A shiver ran down Styne's back, and he stepped past the succubus and outside of the magical shield. Yletriz watched the encounter from an invisible corner of the bar. He could hear nothing through the barrier and could only see hazy outlines of the people inside. He thought about telling his master about this development, but he had nothing to say. He had heard the reference to Cayne but did not make the connection to Garristyne that Enrique had.

Instead, the imp decided to stay quiet. Whatever was going on, it would prove entertaining. The next round was going to start soon.

Lynn Shallarock held her new blade up to the light in the cave, and the sword swallowed it. The weapon was in constant shadow and seemed only to glow darker the longer she held it aloft. Yelthium had been taller than the vampire, and the moon blade had been a hand and a half weapon for him. Lynn could comfortably hold it in two hands.

Drizzt stepped up into the ring with both scimitars drawn. He was not there to showboat. He had no intention of being entertaining, though he was sure it would be. He was there to kill the vampire. He knew he was being played. The noble drow knew that this was perhaps the only foe he could take pleasure in killing. Deltrophan was not blind to that fact. Drizzt didn't care.

Lynn smiled her toothy grin at the drow. "I told you you'd get your turn." She struck a pose with her new sword. "Now, let's dance."

The two walked toward each other, and Lynn attacked first with the longer weapon. Drizzt easily blocked the strike with his left blade and sent his right on the attack. Lynn swept her sword across her body to bat the thrust aside and then reversed the motion to keep the other blade at bay.

Lynn was stronger than and just as quick as Drizzt, and her one blade to his two was no disadvantage. The two sparred for a full minute, Drizzt analyzing her style, looking for strengths and weaknesses. Lynn didn't give him a whole lot to look at as she pirouetted gracefully, slashing and cutting at the drow. She looked like she was dancing.

Drizzt didn't need to be told this was not a goblin or an orc. She was no simple vampire either. She ruled in the Underdark, and just the fact that she knew Jarlaxle told more of her skill than anything. The drow mercenary did not ally himself with weaklings.

Drizzt caught one of her strikes with both weapons suddenly, the moon blade halting its sweeping motion in the scimitars' X. Lynn had been spinning and was now held up. She didn't stay off-balance for long, kicking out with a leg. Drizzt released his left blade from the block, pushing the moon blade out with his right scimitar and chopping down with the other.

Lynn pulled her kick back at the knee, but Drizzt stepped in close, driving his own knee into her extended thigh. The blow would have made an average fighter's leg go numb, but the vampire was already without circulation, so she only winced at the strike. He was too close for her to bring her long weapon around, so she let go with her right hand and sent her elbow toward Drizzt's chin.

The drow leaned back, giving him more room to work, and brought his left weapon up toward her side. Lynn hadn't expected to hit the agile fighter with her elbow but also knew that he still had a blade at her right side. Her arm went down, and her hand clamped onto Drizzt's wrist, her strength holding the attack away.

The vampire tugged hard on the wrist, bringing Drizzt back in close. Her eyes looked hungrily at him, knowing the weaker fighter would not be able to pull away. Instead, Drizzt rotated his right weapon, keeping the blade in contact with her sword for as long as possible, and brought the pommel up hard.

Lynn was too focused on the drow's neck to see the strike coming and took the blow across the cheek. She stumbled back, and Drizzt freed his left arm, slashing up across her body. Lynn was stunned but not out of it and somersaulted backward to avoid the attack. She came up quickly, and Drizzt held his ground.

With the sword still held in her left hand, the vampire pulled her whip with her right, her scythe still on her hip. She snapped the chained whip a few times and approached slowly. Again, she had the longer weapon – even longer this time – and attacked first. Drizzt caught the strike with Twinkle, noticing how Lynn had eyed up the glowing blade before. The chains wrapped around the scimitar and held tight.

Unlike Yelthium's moon blade, Twinkle's enchantment did not draw strength from Drizzt's life force but his alignment. The weapon glowed brightly when enemies were near and needed the moral character of its wielder to determine who was a friend and who was a foe. Try as she might, Lynn was never going to suck the good out of the drow. And she wouldn't want to even if she could, for Drizzt's sense of mercy was the only thing she had going for her. He wasn't going to show her any. Instead, he offered her trickery.

Drizzt's knees went weak, and his eyes seemed to roll back in his head as the whip held tight to Twinkle. Lynn smiled and relaxed her stance, assuming the fight was just about over. It was only just beginning. Drizzt straightened suddenly and spun 90 degrees, extending Twinkle away from his opponent. Lynn was unexpectedly yanked forward, and Drizzt offered her Icingdeath to stop her charge. The vampire barely swung her sword in front of her in time to knock the skewer aside. Drizzt turned the rest of the way now, pulling hard on the whip to flip the vampire over his back.

Lynn jumped instead, landing six feet in front of the crouching drow with her back turned. Drizzt tugged again on the whip, spinning her around, and leaped forward with his scimitar leading. She had no time to block the attack this time and stepped back instead. Icingdeath sunk two inches into the vampire’s stomach, the hungry blade sucking at the demon inside her.

Drizzt swept the blade out wide, slicing open her stomach as she stumbled backward, her whip finally releasing its useless hold on Twinkle. The wound wouldn't kill her, and it oozed more than it bled. All it really did was make her angry.

Lynn lashed out with her whip again. Drizzt offered Twinkle once more, but she wasn't interested in the weapon; she wanted flesh. The whip changed direction twice and eluded both blades, striking Drizzt in the chest. His mithril armor held, and he snapped his head back as the barbed chains made a move toward his neck.

The whip pulled back and then snapped out again and again. Drizzt stayed on the move, his blades creating a steel shield around him. Finally, Lynn latched onto one of the blocking blades, Icingdeath, and pulled hard. Drizzt accepted the tug, needing to get inside the whip's range anyway. He rolled forward and quickly swept Twinkle in front of him, batting aside the predictable sword.

He bounced off the inside block and sent his weapon toward the already wounded and vulnerable midsection. Lynn seemed to invite the attack as she brought her moon blade back in at shoulder height. Drizzt saw he could score a vicious wound on her, but he would lose his head. He ducked at the last second, and Lynn kneed him in the forehead.

The drow flew backward a few feet, and with another tug on the whip, he was down to one scimitar. Drizzt shifted Twinkle to his left to defend against the whip, shook the cobwebs from his head, and charged. He caught the whip halfway down, bending it outward so the heads couldn't hit him. She didn't care. Instead, she brought her sword in toward his unprotected right side.

Drizzt's hand shot out for Lynn's left wrist, and the Vampire almost seemed amused that the weaker fighter thought he could stop her blow that way. At the last second, a dagger shot out of Drizzt's sleeve, and it bit hard into the vampire's forearm. The moon blade hit the ground, and Lynn quickly grabbed the drow's arm before the dagger could do any more damage. It dropped to the ground too, after a brief struggle.

Meanwhile, the whip snaked around Drizzt's block and bit hard into his left arm. His whole side went momentarily numb, and he dropped that weapon too. Instead of trying to pull away, Drizzt grabbed hold of the whip's handle. He was not unfamiliar with dark magic, and unlike the whips belonging to drow priestesses, this had nothing to do with Lloth.

It was a battle of wills, and as Lynn saw her own weapon begin to turn on her, she yanked it away and threw it across the ring. Drizzt used his now free hand to punch the vampire in the face. Lynn laughed at the weak punch and punched out with her other hand. Drizzt went reeling.

He got his balance back and stood in front of her in a ready stance, no hint of a weapon. Lynn continued to laugh at him. "Go ahead, drow," she said, sticking her chin out. "I'll give you one free hit before I tear you apart."

Drizzt brought his right arm across his body and stepped forward to give her a backhanded punch. With her chin out, she stared the drow in the eyes and didn't see what his hand was doing. It wasn't until she felt a rustle at her side and looked down that she knew something was up. By then, it was too late.

Drizzt pulled the scythe from the vampire's hip and swung it up and across. She brought her right arm up in defense, but the heavily enchanted blade cut cleanly through that before it passed through the neck. The look of shock on her face lasted only a brief moment.

In a second, all the moisture was sucked right out of her as her skin turned a ghastly white and burst into a cloud of ash and dust. Drizzt dropped the scythe on the pile and brushed his hands off.

Deltrophan smiled as he stood from his chair, glad that he wouldn't have to worry about how to give an undead creature eternal life. There was still the matter of her sponsor, though. Garnaax stood 40 feet from the ring, not too distant from Thelania, who was there to watch Drizzt fight. The ghaele could sense something was about to happen and made herself scarce.

Garnaax turned to the host mage. "Alas, my fighter has been slain." He turned to Drizzt and bowed. "You are truly the greatest of all drow warriors." His eyes went back to Deltrophan. "And now I bid my leave."

"Not so fast!" Deltrophan ordered. It did not appear that he had cast a spell, but the demilich stayed where he was for now. "Your fighter was already eternal and had no life to begin with. You are free to move about in any plane you desire, even more so than I am. Why did you come to my tournament?"

The undead priest shrugged, "For fun?"

Deltrophan smiled. "Then let's have a little fun."

Now Garnaax tried to escape, but an electric blue ring appeared around his waist. He wrestled with the shackle briefly and then turned a deathly gaze at the mage. The two apprentices on either side of Deltrophan withered and died instantly, but the only effect on the host was that a few hairs turned gray and fell out. He stepped off his observatory platform and into the ring over 30 feet away. No one had seen him open a doorway. He had just instantly transported himself. Drizzt didn't worry about it and was smart enough to make himself scarce as well.

Two of the most powerful beings in the Realms were now at eye level with each other. "What are you doing?!" Garnaax cried.

"Having a little fun," Deltrophan replied. He loosed two vivid lightning bolts, but Garnaax, trapped though he was, casually brushed them aside.

"You cannot hurt me. I am death! No one can harm me!"

The mage smiled. "Then maybe I should heal you."

A look of pure dread entered the demilich's eyes, something he was not used to feeling. He mentally scrolled through his list of spells and powers. A list that could fill a small library, but nowhere could he find a defense for the spell he knew Deltrophan was going to cast. He wasn't sure there even existed one.

Rarely did the powerful mage have to speak to cast a spell, but he did now. Everyone in the cavern braced themselves for the horrific attack the mage must be preparing to release. No one expected what happened next. Deltrophan's voice sounded like a harp, the words flowing beautifully off his tongue, soothing the anxiety in everyone that heard them.

Light shone brightly in the cavern, and flowers began to spring up out of the stone floor. As Deltrophan gestured toward his struggling nemesis, the light focused on Garnaax, and within seconds, he was standing in a field of fragrant flowers. The demilich stopped his struggling as an extraordinary change went through him. His icy white skin warmed and tanned. His hollow face gained color and filled out as if someone was blowing a balloon in his head. His bald head grew a thick crop of brown hair. His eyes changed from black to bright blue. His wiry frame filled out, muscles crowding over themselves for position. In the end, he stood as a powerful young man, completely restored.

Garnaax regarded himself for a moment and screamed. "No!!!" He loosed a volley on Deltrophan that caused everyone in the cavern to shudder. Sphere after sphere of energy burst against the mage and those present could slowly see the shimmering shields of protection disappear around him. Deltrophan did not seem concerned.

With a wave of his arm, two massive spatial rifts appeared on either side of the trapped priest. Garnaax pulled his attention from his spell casting to see two mammoth pit fiends step out of the abyss and into the cavern. He sent three lightning bolts and a fireball into the chest of one of the creatures, blasting him into the far wall, but the other one grabbed the prone man in his clawed hand.

The blue ring stayed around his waist as the fiend hoisted the priest into the air. A magical collection of blades swirled around him, cutting and slicing into the creature's hand, but the fiend was too stupid to let go and just shook his hand as hard as he could. He got the same effect, for Garnaax lost all measure of self and concentration.

The stunned pit fiend was back on his feet and quickly limped over to their prey. It grabbed at the legs of the dizzy man and cried to its "friend" to let go. They tugged on him for a short while until his legs came free, his torso still in the grasp of the first creature. The rest of Garnaax's existence consisted entirely of chewing noises.

When the pit fiends were finished, and Deltrophan satisfied, he waved his arm, and the two monsters shrunk down into tiny mice and scurried into a crack in the cave floor.

Entreri turned to look at Enrique. "I was confused at first why so few fighters were here. With the potential benefits for both fighter and sponsor, I'd figure this contest to be crowded. Now I wonder why anyone would dare enter this cavern voluntarily."

Enrique nodded. "The tournament that I won had only nine fighters. Deltrophan runs a tight operation. It is the only way he is ensured of getting the best fighters. And even so, we still got a few losers."

The two lapsed into silence. An apprentice walked up to the pair, and they each held their breath, wondering which of them would fight next or if they would fight each other. "Enrique Cortez," the apprentice said, "your presence is requested in the ring."

Enrique motioned toward Entreri, but the apprentice shook his head. That meant he was either fighting Gunthor or Druia. He didn't look forward to either.

It was Druia.

The young woman stood confidently in the ring, her pike held tightly in front of her.

"My dear," Enrique started, pulling a lilly from his vest, "Your beauty is like-"

"Cut the troll dung," she interrupted. "We are here to fight, not to romance each other."

Enrique smiled and crumpled the flower in his fist. "Very well."

Drizzt frowned at the exchange. Druia reminded him too much of Catti-brie. Young and fiery. Catti-brie had been able to show restraint, however. The daughter of Bruenor Battlehamer knew that she was a formidable fighter, but she had no selfish pride in her skills, and her confidence did not drive her into battles in which she didn't belong. Quite the opposite, she constantly reminded Drizzt that he no longer had to prove himself with his blades.

Whether it was against Entreri or just a boastful pirate, Catti-brie consistently inquired as to the reason for Drizzt's battle eagerness. The drow wasn't worried about his close friend ever getting involved where she didn't belong. Any lust for action that she might have would never be able to contradict her morals.

Druia did not have that conviction. She was still too young and boastful. She was a better fighter than Catti-brie and nearly on par with Drizzt, Entreri, or Enrique, and she knew it. She knew she was a young, pretty female who could kick the butt of just about any man she met. Growing up like that had taken a toll on her worldview. Drizzt saw potential, but he didn't know if she would live long enough to develop it.

Enrique twirled his nunchaku around his torso, the blades extended from both of the ivory handles. He had seen the way the young woman had moved in her fight with the ogre. He had fought against too many monks in his long life not to recognize the training. Druia intrigued Enrique, and he had sent Dekaina back into the realms to gather information for him.

Druianalla was born a bastard child in an elven village. Her mother had been raped by a young barbarian, who years later had led his tribe to torch the town and kill or enslave everyone. Druia, just a child, had escaped to the nearby mountains. There she had been taken in by the monks and taught their ways.

Her barbarian heritage was more prominent with her long blonde hair and sturdy features. Her elven bloodline gave her quickness and strength combined with a keen magical sense. She had taken to the monk’s training and had improved on it, able to move with an ease and fluidity that made everyone else look like they were trying to swim upstream.

But she was young. Enrique thought this might be her only weakness. He felt he might be stronger than she was, for he had not been idle the past 250 years, but she was quicker, or at least could move more effortlessly. Your thoughts had to be able to match your movements. Without experience or technique, speed didn't do you much good.

The two fighters worked close to each other, neither anxious to launch into full attack. Enrique casually swung a blade at her, and she blocked it, countering with an easy swipe for his head. Enrique ducked. The two regarded each other for a moment, not advancing the fight any further.

Eventually, there was another slash and a block. Then a kick and a doge. Then a jab and a parry. Soon, they were fighting. It started as a training match, going through the motions at half speed first to get the hang of it and then increasing slowly. Within minutes they were moving at blinding speeds, the silver pike rotating in front of Druia like a propeller and Enrique's nunchaku spinning around his body like the spokes on a speeding chariot.

No one had made a daring move until Druia suddenly sidestepped. Enrique was waiting for just such a move but was still amazed at how she did it. It was like when Deltrophan had magically transported himself 30 feet with a thought. Druia had only moved 3 feet, but it was done instantaneously.

Enrique dropped into a crouch and swung low. Next to Druia's movement, the strike seemed to be in slow motion. The woman took to the air, flipping up and over the crouched fighter. Enrique adapted quickly, spinning around and lashing out at her landing spot. His blade cut viciously through the air at knee height, but there was no one there.

Enrique thought he had timed it perfectly, but as he glanced up, he saw Druia was still hanging in the air, only coming down after his weapon cleared. It was almost as if she had stopped her descent to wait for Enrique. She landed and swung down with her staff.

The crouched man offered his forearm for a block, lining his bracer up to deflect the strike. Druia angled her blow at the last microsecond, clipping Enrique on the elbow. His whole arm went numb. She tried another swipe, but Enrique was already rolling backward, and the young woman didn't pursue.

There were dozens of pressure points all over the body, and Enrique was acutely aware of all of them. It was a technique used by monks since they rarely fought with weapons and then blunted ones at that. A well-trained monk could numb a limb or leave you completely paralyzed with what looked like a harmless attack. Enrique had never gotten the hang of it and wondered why you would want to paralyze an opponent when you could just drive a blade through their chest.

As he stood up slowly, his left arm completely numb and useless for at least the next minute or two, he realized he would have to be a little more careful which areas of his body he presented to her for targets. Twirling his weapon in his right hand, he walked back in.

Druia stayed defensive, clearly seeing the light go on in her opponent's eyes. As his blades sparked off her parrying pike, she started to formulate her strategy. Enrique was over ten times older than she was. He had experienced more things than she could imagine. She had to assume he knew all her tricks. He knew them, and he knew how to defeat them. The one thing she had going for her was the same thing that she had going against her this whole tournament. She was young and stupid. No one expected her to reason out her opponent’s strategies. They were wrong.

She blocked an attack high and then suddenly spun kicked beneath it. Enrique turned, letting the kick glance off his limp left shoulder, bringing his right arm out and back in, aiming a strike for her waist. Druia spun her weapon down and around, blocking the blade below the handle on the chain. The weapon wrapped around the pike and reversed direction as the block went up and wide.

Enrique tugged hard at his opponent's weapon, and Druia obliged, sweeping the pike at his head. He ducked and managed to unwrap his chain from the shaft before it yanked him back left. Druia spun with the attack, and as Enrique stood, her heel came straight for his collar bone. He was taken by surprise, or so he pretended.

To Druia, it felt like her heel found the nerve lying just below his collar bone, a strike that would stun the sturdiest man. In reality, Enrique had shifted at the last second, and she was actually feeling a seam in his studded leather armor. As his weapon came weakly across high, she dropped and spun around him, driving an elbow in between his twelfth and thirteenth vertebrae. Again, that is what it felt like, but as the result of another minute shift, it was actually two metal studs from his armor.

Enrique stood motionless. Druia rose and walked in front of him. His weapon was still held in his right hand, the free handle resting on the dirt floor. His other arm, recently numbed, was a mirror image on the other side. His face was an expressionless stare. Druia smiled. He was good. Very good. She had pulled that move on many fighters over the years, and this was precisely what they looked like.

She walked up to him with her pike vertically in front of her. "I feel like a poem," she said, playing her part perfectly. "Or maybe a flower." Pause. "Come on; I’m waiting." She chuckled. "Pathetic."

Druia adjusted her grip at the center of her weapon and prepared to strike. Enrique struck first. A dagger suddenly appeared in his left hand, his arm having regained feeling seconds ago, and his right arm came to life, swinging his primary weapon in from the right.

There was no way Druia could have blocked them. She was supposed to think that he was frozen solid, and her weapon was vertical in front of her, unable to stop two attacks at once. She didn't care. She had seen through the ruse and blocked them anyway. Her adjusted grip had twisted her pike apart into two separate spikes. She slapped her right one down hard, cracking against the knuckles of his left hand while her left caught the chain of the nunchaku again. The dagger went flying, and the nunchaku wrapped tightly around the other pike before Druia slammed the pointed end into the ground. She dropped her right weapon and punched the shocked fighter in the face.

Enrique stumbled backward, having to let go of his secured weapon. "So, you know about pressure points?" Druia asked him. "How about this one?" She swung in hard with her left fist, but he ducked, only to meet a hard uppercut from her right that straightened him back up.

"Or what about this one?" her left leg came up high to knee him in the rib cage, but he spread his legs and shifted, giving her a perfect target between his legs for her other knee. His eyes rolled back in his head. He stumbled backward again and felt the edge of the ring.

"Here's another," she launched her left fist at his head, and he ducked again. Her right was aimed at his sternum, but as her left collided violently with the domed shield behind his head, her right arm faltered.

Enrique grabbed the second part of the attack with both hands and swung the young woman around. Her back and head hit hard against the force shield, and he held her there at her neck with his forearm.

"You're good," he said, spitting blood in her face. Their eyes were only six inches apart. "You're very good, but you are still just a naïve little girl."

Druia tried to kick up at him, but he bent his knee, catching her shin and stopping the kick. She winced from the pain. "You aren't the only one with a trick up your sleeve," he said, smiling at her discomfort. He slammed his forehead into hers, knocking the back of her head against the dome again.

As a dazed look started to creep into her eyes, he pulled his melee dagger. He turned it over a few times in front of her face, letting the glint catch her in the eyes. "This is my favorite dagger," he said slowly.

She smiled weakly back at him, "And this is mine." Her unsecured left arm pumped faster than lightning, stabbing Enrique in the chest. He quickly cut at her face, but his hold on her slackened from the pain, and she slipped under it. She pulled the dagger from his chest and shoved him away. His arms went wide as he tried to keep his balance, and she buried her blade in his neck.

After a few more awkward steps, he stopped stumbling and stood relatively still, his left hand closing on the dagger protruding from under his chin. As he felt the familiar inlaid pearl handle, he understood how he had lost. Druia wore a tight top and loose pants, showing way too much skin to be able to hide a dagger on her. The only place could have been at her ankle. But this wasn't her dagger; it was his. It was the throwing dagger he kept in his vest. It was the one he had tried to throw at Cayne 250 years ago. It was the one he had told Druia about just a short while ago. It was the dagger that had defeated him.

He pulled it out, looked at the blood briefly, and then fell back. Everyone in the cavern was shocked. They all seemed to lean in closer, no one more than Styne. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time. He knew how the tournament worked. He knew how the spell that governed the tournament worked. And now he stood ready to figure everything out.

Enrique clamped his hands over his throat tightly, thinking that if he could staunch the flow of blood, the regenerative powers bestowed upon him from his eternal life would allow him to survive. In theory, they could and would, but they needed a lot more than the mere five seconds that Druia allotted them.

The woman walked over to pick up Enrique's "favorite" dagger, taking a moment to admire the blade while it wasn't held an inch in front of her face. It was very nice. She decided to give it back to Enrique . . . in his heart. Enrique stopped his struggling now, realizing it was over. He held on much longer than he should have, somehow managing to work his lips into a smile.

Druia reached into his vest and found a black rose. She held it up and watched as the petals fell slowly off it. As the last one landed on the ex-champion's chest, a rushing noise came from deep within the floor of the cavern. Druia backed up quickly and watched as a beam of light shot up from the middle of the arena where Enrique lay. The narrow beam struck the ceiling of the vast chamber and blossomed like a flower, filling the whole cavern with light.

The walls shook, the arena hummed, and everyone inside braced against the earthquake. Suddenly the light shrank back to a pinprick over Enrique's chest, hung there for a moment, and then gently popped into a plum of sparkles.

Deltrophan stood from his chair. "It is done. The spell is charged and ready."

"No!!!"

Everyone turned to look. Dekaina had been in shock through the last moments of the fight, but these words of finality from the host confirmed what she couldn't believe. "No!!!" she came screaming and running into the ring.

Druia shrank away at first. The normally seductive succubus was nothing of the sort now. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, her teeth barred with impressive fangs, and her claws were extended, eagerly looking forward to ripping the flesh from Druia. The young woman let the initial shock of the charge pass and fell into a calm, defensive stance. At the last second, she turned aside, driving her elbow back hard and high. Somehow the strike found bone amidst the sponsor's voluptuous chest, and a loud, stomach-turning crack echoed through the cavern.

Dekaina's breath was blasted into another dimension, and she stood stunned. Druia spun around her, grabbed her chin and shoulder in two hands, and yanked violently in opposite directions. Another crack filled the chamber before the first one had even stopped echoing, and the succubus fell dead to the dirt floor.

Druia quickly looked up at Deltrophan to see if she had just crossed a line, but the mage only smiled at her. "Well done." He might have to change his chauvinistic ways. She was rather entertaining. "Now get some rest. This round is over."

The audience took a while to react to this statement. Drizzt and Entreri were in shock. Any relief the drow might have felt from Druia's survival was in recess next to his amazement at how she had done it. The fight had not been decided upon skill but trickery. That was where Drizzt and Entreri had figured Druia's weakness to be. One of them was going to have to fight her.

There was only one person in the room who wasn't concerned with the fight's outcome. Styne didn't care how Druia had won. All he cared about was the spell. When Enrique was killed and the magic released, he could follow it perfectly. He had spent his whole life dedicating his study to what he had learned on this island as an apprentice. He knew how Deltrophan's mind worked, and he knew how he constructed magic. He knew what energies were used and how they were shaped. Up until now, he just hadn’t learned how to put it all together.

Now he knew everything. He understood the nuances and secrets of eternal life. It was not a simple thing. Death was a powerful force in the universe, and it was not easily defeated. It was something that would take time to master. Lots of time. He could leave the island now and develop the spell on his own. He would be the most powerful mage in the realms.

That wasn't enough. He glanced up at Deltrophan, who was working his way down from his pedestal. He had the power and knowledge he had come for. But there was something else he wanted: revenge. He watched the powerful mage leave the cavern with an evil grin on his face. He left in the opposite direction, following Drizzt and Entreri.