Life.

It is craved by all but genuinely understood by none. Its simple complexity (if such a concept is comprehensible) ridicules any notion that it could have come about by chance, evolving at the whims of chaos. Yet, to the untrained eye, that is precisely what it seemed to be: chaos.

The idea of cells, DNA, amino acids, and reproduction are standard terms among advanced civilizations, but even those enlightened citizens fall drastically short of comprehending their functions. Commonplace evidence of rudimentary actions belittles the complexity wrapped up beneath them.

Everyone understands the five senses, and while scientists can recreate the essential functions, does a camera know what it sees, or does a speaker understand what it says? These questions are best left unasked and unanswered. Perhaps the only thing more extraordinary than the complexity of life is the complete lack of necessity to understand it for survival. A man can live a long and healthy life without ever understanding how his body works. He can raise crops, hunt for food, and raise a family without ever understanding photosynthesis or the science behind reproduction.

A mage cannot cast a spell he knows nothing about. A worker cannot operate a mill without understanding how it works. These things need to be designed, built, and sustained. Life sustains itself. It does not need to be understood and does not need to be maintained.

Unless you want to make it eternal.

Deltrophan's life did not stem from himself. It was magically created and sustained. Unlike the spell cast upon tournament winners, his eternal life was not dependent on a beating heart or breathing lungs. Styne understood that spell, and as the two of them faced off, the battlemage dove into the magic – the magic of life. His strike had lifted Deltrophan off the ground, so the two of them looked eye to eye.

Styne's consciousness soared through the complexities of nature, spiraling around as he followed the helical pathways of life. On the surface, Deltrophan seemed impenetrable. His heart was crushed, and his lungs impaled. The wound in his chest grew as Styne slowly turned his blade, but the mage's life energy seemed as strong as ever. On the surface, Deltrophan seemed impenetrable, but Styne did not stay on the surface.

Styne dove in.

The escaping trio outdistanced Gunthor easily, but they all knew he had to be dealt with. The stone corridor did not last much longer before it exited into the palatial home of the host mage. Inside, the palace would be crawling with apprentices, most of who must be alerted to what was going on. There they would not have time to deal with Gunthor.

While they did not know what he was, they could tell there was something unnatural and magical about him. The way he had guarded the corridor was as if he had been magically commanded. If that were the case, he would not give up his chase of them until that spell was dispelled or the three of them were killed.

Drizzt paused as his senses told him they were only a few hundred feet from the exit of the cavern. "We need to do something about our pursuer."

The other two nodded. "If I stun him, can you take him out?" Druia asked. Her weapon was not designed to take on someone of Gunthor's caliber. Drizzt and Entreri understood that as well, but that only puzzled them as to how she planned on stunning their mammoth enemy.

She smiled at them disarmingly. "I have an idea," she said.

A little bit further ahead, the corridor opened up considerably in all directions. It was a good ambush site, and as Drizzt and Entreri took up positions on either side, Druia placed herself above. The ceiling opened up before expanding to the sides, and Druia leaped high into the opening, extending her pike to full length so the pointed ends dug into the sides of the wall.

Druia held on to her weapon like a trapeze artist, her toes five feet off the ground. Working up her momentum, she swung herself up into a handstand. She reversed her hands, so she was facing the other way, and waited.

With her eyes closed, Druia fell into a deep meditation. Soon the handstand felt as natural and balanced as standing on her feet. Her hands held her pike gently, feeling the vibrations of the cavern through her weapon. The cavern was definitely decaying, but she could feel distinct footfalls coming ever closer amidst the cracking and creaking. Hiding in the ceiling alcove, Druia was invisible to anyone coming up the corridor. Likewise, she could not see Gunthor coming either.

Drizzt and Entreri exchanged glances from opposite sides of the corridor, waiting patiently and hoping their new friend knew what she was doing. As Druia felt Gunthor draw within a few running steps, she relaxed her body entirely and swung down. She accelerated far beyond the pull of gravity, and her knees and ankles snapped like a whip, her feet a blur of motion. And while her moccasins look soft, they were fashioned from a magical white buffalo’s hide and could assume any form or texture she desired.

Gunthor ran straight into the attack, taking the blow to his chest as if he was hit by a sledgehammer swung by . . . well . . . swung by himself. Gunthor stumbled. It wouldn't seem like much to some, but Drizzt and Entreri understood the magnitude of the blow Druia had just delivered if it made this behemoth stumble. They didn't waste their time.

With his weight on his heels and his arms up, trying to regain his balance, Gunthor was defenseless. Drizzt and Entreri attacked his legs. They rendered blows that should have cleaved the legs off anyone else, but instead, their enchanted weapons bit only a few inches into his skin. Entreri sank his jeweled dagger into a thigh, and then the fight took a turn.

Styne had breathed life into the golem so it could act and think on its own, but now Entreri was sucking that life away, and as a result, Gunthor's reactions became less acute and aware. Drizzt saw there was something unnatural going on and could tell from the lack of blood on his weapons that this was some sort of magical construct. But if it had been constructed, it could be destructed.

Just as Gunthor started to regain his balance, Drizzt raked Twinkle hard along the back of his knee. The blade bit deep, severing tendons and muscles. Balance was again an issue for the giant, and he leaned heavily against the corridor on his left shoulder. The drow used the collapsing knee as a step and attacked the sword-wielding arm. Gunthor quickly lost the ability to fight as Entreri took his life away, and his strike faltered as Drizzt's blades tore into his shoulder and elbow.

His arm went limp, and as Entreri deconstructed the knee in front of him, the golem toppled to the ground. The two fighters leaped on top of their enemy, gouging out eyes and tearing apart limbs.

"I think he's dead," Druia said, interrupting the pair. Her pike was collapsed and stored on her side.

"I'm not so sure he was ever really alive," Drizzt responded.

Druia walked over to the Thunder Blade, where it lay on the ground next to Gunthor's head. She lifted the pommel of the weapon, straining under the weight and realizing she could never carry it, but that wasn't her intention. Closing her eyes and falling into another trance, she slowly lifted the greatsword with both hands, bringing the weapon over her head till the sword was parallel with the ground. Her body suddenly snapped forward, the blade arcing over her toward the ground and severing Gunthor's head. All three of them admired their kill for a few moments before continuing up the corridor.

The hallway emptied into the main foyer that Drizzt had admired when he had arrived. It was filled with spiraling staircases and random balconies. It also held a dozen apprentices waiting for them. The two groups faced each other, clearly realizing who had the upper hand.

"Time to die," one of the mages said, and they all cast.

As Styne dove in, he was almost overwhelmed by the flood of energy. And that's what it was really: a flood – no – a sea of energy. Deltrophan was engulfed in the ocean of life. He was a ship resting in the middle of the sea with no land in sight.

Styne studied this ship, trying to find its weak points, seeing if it could be capsized or punctured. It was impenetrable. It was a beast of a ship. Its massive girth contradicted the fact that it should float, but it did. It not only floated but was anchored to the ocean floor, never to be moved.

Styne studied the anchor. It wasn’t going anywhere. It had been there so long that the ocean floor had almost covered it, but it too was a massive thing, cast iron and as large as a whale. It had grown into the ocean floor. And there was no weak link in its chain. Styne followed it back up to the ship, examining each link, desperate to find some chink in his enemy's armor.

There had to be a weak link somewhere. Eternal life was unnatural. It was an abomination and an affront to all things. Deltrophan could disguise this anomaly as well as his ability allowed, but there had to be a weakness somewhere. All of the pieces could not fit together smoothly. Nature would not allow it.

But the chain securing the boat to the ocean floor was flawless. The chain was anchored to the ship almost as aggressively as it was at the other end. The crank and handle were equally unmovable, secured to the floor in the recesses of the boat with four mammoth bolts, tightened down so they-

Styne paused as he looked at the bolts. One of them didn't sit quite flush. He looked closer. There was something wedged under the head of the bolt. It was nothing really, just a spec. It was the tiniest grain, but it was a grain of reality, and it wasn't going away. It was the only imperfection, but it had to be there to show that what existed here was not natural.

Styne tested the bolt. It wasn't exactly loose, but the spec of reality holding it up gave it the slightest bit of play. Styne leaned on it with all of his considerable magical energy, and it began to turn. Slowly at first, but as the Styne worked it around, the bolt started to spin faster.

The spec grew.

The rift of reality in this fabricated existence expanded as the bolt rose and lifted free. The anchor crank creaked. The free corner slowly lifted as if the weight of all infinity was tugging back on the anchor chain. The hardened steel began to fold like paper, with cracks and rips slowly working through the structure. The other bolt heads sheared off, and the crank was pulled from the ship and tossed into the suddenly turbulent ocean.

The spec had filled the ship, leaning it to one side. The previously sturdy vessel was now as topsy-turvy as top ending its spin. The ocean, too, was no longer calm and tossed the ship about as if it suddenly realized that it was there and wanted nothing to do with it. Styne distanced himself as he watched the ocean rip the boat apart, its destruction escalating quickly, ending in a tumultuous finale that wiped the ship from view and left the ocean's surface suddenly calm.

Styne blinked himself back to reality inside the cavern and watched the light fade from Deltrophan's eyes. Blood finally gushed from his wounds, and breath left his lungs. The powerful mage croaked out a hollow rattle, and he was dead.

A shudder went through the cavern, and all of the combat on the floor ceased. Only a few mages were left, and they all turned to look up to the ledge where their master lay dead, crumpled against the wall. Styne demanded their attention, standing tall and strong. There was a bit of an aura about him too. He radiated power, and even the few goblins remaining cowered before him.

Half a dozen fighters were left as well, and they sheathed their weapons, realizing that the battle for the cavern was won. Styne smiled at them all. This was his army, and he planned on flourishing. Gunthor had done an excellent job of keeping everyone inside the cavern. He would have to . . . He paused. Gunthor wasn't guarding the exit anymore.

Druia, Entreri, and Drizzt each bolted in separate directions. The mages were coordinated too. The floor beneath the fighters instantly turned to ice as three other mages fired lightning bolts while three more tried hold spells. Right now, mind magic was not the strongest with magical disruptions from the war down below, and the hold attempts failed, but the other spells were very effective.

Druia had gone straight up, leaping 15 feet into the air. The bolt aimed at her missed initially but bounced off the ice-coated floor and wall, striking her in the legs. Her moccasins protected her somewhat, but as she grabbed hold of a balcony railing and hoisted herself up and over, her legs were spasming and weak.

Entreri went to the right, leaping just before the ice hit. His dagger was out in a flash as he angled himself to land on his hands. The steel weapon bit into the ice, giving the assassin leverage to roll forward and off the slick surface. The bolt aimed at him missed completely, bouncing off the floor and wall but then into a wooden staircase right in front of him, showering him with splinters.

Drizzt's bracers gave him a distinct advantage, moving him away from the target zone quicker than his companions, but as the ice hit, his fast-moving feet slipped completely out from under him, and he went down hard. This saved him as the bouncing bolt aimed his way passed just over his head. The drow was prone now, though. He quickly rolled to the side, got up, and sprinted across the open room, magical attacks trailing at his heels.

Just as the mages got smart enough to lead the drow, Drizzt leaped into the air, touched off briefly on a spiral banister, and shot in the opposite direction to catch a chandelier and swing to a nearby balcony.

Meanwhile, Entreri shrugged off the scratches and cuts from the exploding splinters and quickly swung around from underneath the staircase and ran up it. Five magic missiles were sent in pursuit, and even though the seasoned fighter knew they were magically guided, he dodged anyway, stopping short on the staircase. He watched as the glowing orbs turned sharply from where he would have been to where he was, splashing painfully into his chest.

Ordinary men would have been stunned badly, some losing consciousness. Entreri would have normally been stopped in his tracks too, a sitting duck for a few seconds, but having so recently fed off Gunthor's magical life through his dagger, this attack merely brought him back to a normal adrenaline level.

His enemies didn't have to know that, and he acted as if he were bad off, struggling for balance and grabbing hold of a support rope. Just as the mages cast to finish him off, Entreri cut through the taunt rope, launching him into the air just above the fireballs and acid arrows below.

The other end of the rope supported the chandelier to which Drizzt had leaped. Drizzt had wanted to swing to a neighboring balcony, but as he plummeted down, it was Entreri who was pulled toward the balcony. Drizzt let go of the massive brass ring just as it crashed into a collection of mages. The ranger rolled with the fall, coming up in front of two other startled apprentices. He made short work of them, as they hadn't thought to raise melee protection spells, and then ran for cover as the floor exploded with another magical attack.

Entreri alighted only briefly on the balcony, watching below him as the chandelier sent four mages scrambling. He dropped from his perch just as more offensive firepower was sent his way. He flipped to the ground, cut up two of the four mages, and then rolled out of the way as the assaulted balcony he had just been on came crashing down on the group.

Of the twelve mages waiting for them, only six remained who could cast. The four Entreri had disposed of were still alive but in no position to concentrate on spells. As far as the trio's casualties, Drizzt had a slightly sprained ankle and a bruised arm. Entreri had cuts on his face, and up on a balcony, hidden from view, the feeling was just returning to Druia's legs.

She peeked over the edge of the wooden railing, appreciating the effective diversion. The remaining mages stood in two areas. Druia eyed the larger of the two groups while they prepared to lash out again at the two dancing fighters down below. However, she could also tell that two of them were bracing themselves for melee. She had to get them before they dropped protections on themselves.

It was a monstrous leap, but with a few short seconds of meditation, the monk-trained fighter leaped high through the air, flipping toward her enemies. More impressive than the distance of her jump was the soft landing, made softer by the fact she landed on one of the four mages. Her pike was out quickly, dispatching the second and sweeping towards the other two. They turned to meet the attack with massive damage spells at their fingertips. They wisely held them in check at this close range but could not dodge Druia's weapon.

The sharp tip of the pike cut deep through their robes, drawing a line of blood on their chests. They stumbled back and then over as both Drizzt and Entreri buried a dagger in their backs from halfway across the room.

The three turned to look toward the remaining two apprentices, having noted earlier that they were near the exit of the large foyer and wouldn't be surprised to find them retreating. The exact opposite was the case. They were reinforced.

Close to 20 students quickly filled the area in front of the exit. All the other doors led to rooms or deeper into the palace. The three fighters were standing out in the open and short of breath, nowhere to hide. The group in front of them smiled and prepared to cast.

At that moment, back in the cavern below, Deltrophan died.

The whole house shuddered, and a few apprentices fell to their knees. Though they weren't going to be able to cast for a few moments, they still blocked the exit . . . at least the traditional one. Drizzt led the trio toward one of the elaborate stained glass windows, hoping in mid-leap that panes weren't held in place with metalworking. They weren't.

As the three fighters crashed through the glass and landed in the suddenly dying and decaying forest surrounding the palace, fireballs and lightning bolts nipped at their heels. The attacks were a blessing in disguise, for with the trees around them suddenly assuming their actual age instead of the suspended life Deltrophan had kept them in, they caught fire as if they had been soaking in oil for the past millennia. The fire stayed behind them, shutting off any chance of pursuit.

Drizzt hacked through the collapsing forest around them till they found the now rotted boardwalk leading back to the beach. The boards could barely support their weight as they ran toward the coast. Drizzt used his elven grace and weight to his advantage, keeping himself from crashing through the rotted wood, while Druia and Entreri used common sense, keeping their footfalls over the studs supporting the planks.

The forest fire was quickly growing out of control all around them. With Icingdeath on his hip, Drizzt didn't fear the flames, but Druia and Entreri quickened their already hurried pace. The trio escaped just ahead of the fire as they emptied onto the beach. They all stopped. As distressing as the collapsing dock was, their more significant concern was that only the crow's nest of the rotted and sunken ship was visible above the waves.

Inside the bowels of the island, Styne tried to gain control of the situation. His army had seemed subjective to him after Deltrophan had died, but that was before the cavern had started to cave in. Styne quickly erected a stone skin around himself as a few rocks began to pelt him. He had to stop the decay. He needed to reinstall life into this dying island. It had been easy to do to himself and easy to do with Gunthor, but trying to wrestle with an entire island was a bit more challenging.

As with most islands, in the middle of nowhere, this one was an extinct volcano, and as the rest of the land died, the volcano was coming to life. Styne reached out to the screaming island to try and soothe its pain. As enormous as it seemed, the explosive power of an awakening volcano paled in comparison to that of life itself from which Styne drew his strength.

As Styne threw himself into the task, he paused as he felt a rock hit him in the head. The protection he had just erected had already been dispelled by the constant peppering of stones from the unstable ceiling. He erected a double stone skin and then went back to work to try and fix the unstable cavern.

Through a portal in the abyss, Errtu watched all the events unfold within the cavern. He was not happy. His ticket back to the physical realm hinged on Gunthor winning the tournament. Not only was Gunthor dead, but the tournament was gone too. Now he was watching Styne grow in power every second. He watched as he slowly wrestled the island back under control and knew that the powerful mage would never honor their arrangement now. Styne would be far more inclined to kill the demon than to end his banishment should he show himself on the island.

Errtu didn't like being cheated or lied to, but he also realized confronting Styne right now would not be the smartest thing he could do. The mage was wrestling with a volcano and winning. Instead, he reached through the portal, and using his minor telekinetic powers, tugged a bit at the unstable ceiling over Styne's head.

Back in the cavern, the rumbling quieted. The scrambling goblins and fighters slowly stopped their frenzied race for the exit and looked up at their new master. Styne slowly opened his eyes with his arms stretched out, absorbing the strength of the new life around him. He had done it! Against all odds, he had defeated the most powerful mage in the realms and taken his place of power. The whole world would now bow to him. He would have to answer to no-

A small pebble landed in his upturned hand. Styne regarded it contemplatively, realizing that his stoneskin spell must have expired. No matter. With Deltrophan's extensive spell library open to him now, he would be able to protect himself beyond his wildest dre-

A small shower of dirt and pebbles struck him in the head. As he brushed them out of his hair, he looked up just in time to see a chunk of rock the size of a building crush him to a pulp. Looking through his portal, Errtu laughed.

With Styne dead, the island exploded.

From the beach, the sight was spectacular. The island was already burning, and smoke filled the air, but when the top blew, the shock wave cleared the sky, and a vivid jet of lava rocketed into the atmosphere.

Drizzt, Entreri, and Druia were launched back into the water, their ears ringing from the explosion. The three of them watched in horror as the lava, ash, and debris arched high into the air, realizing with dread that it would have to come down soon.

"Quickly," Drizzt said, pulling Icingdeath from his sheath, "grab hold of my weapon; it will protect you from fire."

Entreri and Druia didn't move. Nothing was going to protect them from the destruction in front of them. Nothing short of a miracle. Drizzt's enthusiasm dissipated as he two realized his weapon wasn't going to help him.

In front of them, the trees burned and then were quickly extinguished as a flood of lava rolled over them. Glancing up at the sky, it would be a race to see which wave of destruction would hit them first. The trio slowly waded back into the water, hoping for minor protection from the coming onslaught.

"This is it," Entreri said soberly, as the sky darkened above and rocks began to splash down around them. The heat was intense, the sky burned, the water churned, and Drizzt couldn't watch. He fell backward into the water with his eyes closed, the sound of splashes all around him. This was not how it was supposed to end. This isn't what Thelania had hinted at. He was supposed to do great things yet with his life. Now his life had come to simply waiting for the end to wash over him.

It never did.

The sounds faded away around him as his mind began to drift. He was lying in the water a few inches from the bottom, gently rocking with the waves, oblivious to the commotion around him. It seemed as if he could hold his breath forever lying there comfortably. Soon it all disappeared, the water, the waves, the heat, everything. Outside, the sun finally dipped below the horizon. Soon it was only Drizzt and the peaceful calm.

Drizzt opened his eyes slowly. He lay there for quite a while before it even dawned on him that he should be trying to figure out where he was. He was in bed, his bed. He was in his cabin aboard the Sea Sprite. He sat up slowly and gently, his head a bit foggy. How did he get here? Where had he been?

"How do you feel?"

Coming from the darkness of his room, the voice would have scared most, but it was calm and lovely, not in the least bit startling. Thelania materialized at the foot of his bed. "How much do you remember?"

Drizzt paused in thought, staring at his sheets. "It all feels like a dream," he looked up, "but I suppose it wasn't." Thelania smiled, shaking her head. "And the others?"

"They are all waking up in their respective beds, wondering if what they remember was real or just a dream."

"Only they don't have their sponsors to confirm their memories," Drizzt reasoned. Drizzt sincerely hoped he would never meet Entreri again, but if he did, he wondered if this instance would ever come up. "What of the tournament?"

"It is over. You three were the only ones to escape from the island. That evil has been vanquished." She paused to make sure Drizzt knew she spoke the following line with full meaning. "Thank you, Drizzt Do'Urden."

Drizzt smiled. He appreciated praise and thanks, not because his ego demanded it, but because it let him know that his deeds and actions had meaning and influenced people's lives. No one would know what he had done here. Even those involved that escaped might not realize what happened. But Drizzt knew that Thelania knew, and that meant Mielikki knew. That was all that was important.

"Get some sleep," the ghaele said gently. "You deserve it."

As she disappeared, Drizzt lay down, rolled over, and drifted off to sleep.

The END