The battle had truly begun.

Iwasn't supposed to join in the fighting, but the uproar of the terrified vampaneze excited me, and before I knew what I was doing, I'd sneaked forward to observe what was happening within the cave.

It was incredible to watch. Spiders covered the floor and walls and — most vitally — the rioting vampaneze. The purple-faced wretches were leaping around like cartoon figures, yelling and screeching, desperately trying to repel the attack. Some used swords and spears, which were no use against the tiny invaders, who easily ducked the wild blows and darted forward to sink their fangs into exposed patches of flesh. The vampaneze with the swords and spears were doing almost as much damage as the spiders. Lashing out blindly, they connected with their colleagues, wounding several, even killing a few.

Some of the wiser vampaneze were struggling to establish control, roaring at the others to form ranks against the spiders. But the pandemonium dwarfed their efforts. They were ignored, sometimes knocked out of the way when they tried to intervene.

In the midst of the panic, Streak and the two younger wolves bounded into the cave from the far entrance, yapping, howling, and snarling as loudly as possible. I don't think anybody had invited the wolves along — they simply came of their own accord, eager to be part of the victory!

When the vampaneze saw the wolves coming, several turned and bolted for the exit. They'd had enough — even the lethal sunlight seemed welcome in comparison to this! I thought about standing aside and letting them pass, but the battle lust was strong in me, and adrenaline was pumping through every cell of my body. I wanted to keep them here if I could so they would suffer along with the rest of their despicable tribe. At the time, revenge was all I could focus on. It was all that seemed to matter.

Looking around, I spotted a spear that one of the tunnel guards had dropped during the course of their hasty retreat. Picking it up, I wedged the end against a crack in the floor, then pointed the tip at the charging vampaneze. The lead vampaneze saw me and tried to veer out of the way of the spear, but those behind pushed him on unwittingly. Running right into the spear, he impaled himself without any help from me.

Standing, I roughly shoved the vampaneze off the spear, then bellowed at those behind him. They must have thought the way was blocked by a horde of savage vampires, because they immediately turned and retreated. I laughed triumphantly and started after them, meaning to add a few more scalps to my collection. Then I happened to glance at the vampaneze who'd run onto my spear, and I came to a sickened halt.

He was young, his face only a light shade of purple. He was crying and making soft whimpering noises. Unable to stop myself, I crouched beside him. "It… hurts!" he gasped, clutching at the deep, wide hole in his belly. His hands were red, and I knew his cause was hopeless.

"It's OK," I lied. "It's only a flesh wound. You'll be up on your —" Before I could say more, he coughed. Blood pumped out of his mouth, a huge torrent of it. His eyes widened, then closed. He groaned softly, fell back, shuddered, then died.

I'd killed him.

The thought shook me to my very core. I'd never killed before. Even though I'd been looking forward to punishing the vampaneze for what they did to Gavner, it was only now that I considered the consequences of my actions. This vampaneze — this person — was dead. I had taken his life and could never restore it.

Maybe he deserved death. He might have been rotten to the core and in need of killing. Then again, maybe he'd been an ordinary guy, like me or any of the vampires, only here because he'd been following orders. Either way, deserving or not, who was I to decide? I didn't have the right to pass judgment on others and kill them. Yet I'd done it. Excited by the fear of the vampaneze, intent on revenge, letting my heart rule my head, I'd raised a weapon against this man and killed him.

I hated myself for what I'd done. I wanted to turn and run, get far away and pretend this never happened. I felt cheap, dirty, nasty. I tried consoling myself with the thought that I'd done the right thing, but how did one separate right from wrong where killing was concerned? I'm sure Kurda thought he was doing right when he stabbed Gavner. The vampaneze thought they were doing right when they drained people they fed upon. However I looked at it, I had the awful feeling that I was now no better than any other killer, one of a vicious, terrible, inhuman breed.

Only my sense of duty held me in place. I knew that vampires would be attacking at any moment. It was my job to keep the spiders active until they did, so that the vampaneze couldn't regroup and meet the assault head-on. If I deserted my post, vampires would perish in great numbers along with the vampaneze. I had to concentrate on the bigger picture, regardless of how I felt inside.

Sticking my flute back between my lips, I played and urged the spiders to swarm over the vampaneze. The scene looked so different in light of the life I'd taken. I no longer enjoyed watching the vampaneze shriek and lash out blindly, or saw them as evil villains on the receiving end of their just deserts. Instead I saw warriors, terrified and humiliated, stranded far from their homes and allies, about to be ruthlessly slaughtered.

At the height of the hysteria, the vampires attacked, led by a bellowing Arrow, who tossed his sharp-edged boomerangs at the vampaneze, one after the other, drawing blood with each. Spearists were beside and behind him, and their hurled weapons caused much damage and claimed many lives.

As vampires poured into the cave, the spiders withdrew, urged to retreat by the unseen Mr. Crepsley and Seba. I held my spiders in place awhile longer, keeping the panic alive at this end of the cave.

In less than a minute, the vampires had stormed the whole cave, those with swords and knives replacing the first wave of spearists. They hadn't come in great numbers — if too many had poured into the narrow chamber, they'd have been in each other's way — but the thirty who'd entered seemed to be far more in comparison with the stricken vampaneze. It seemed as though there were five vampires to every one of their foes.

Arrow was in the thick of the action, leading by example, as mercilessly efficient with his swords as he'd been with his boomerangs. Vanez Blane stood close by the Prince, knives flashing, backing him up. Alarmed as they were by the spiders and wolves, the vampaneze quickly realized where the real threat was, and they hurriedly backed away from the coldly murderous pair.

Arra Sails was also part of the first assault. She was in her element, attacking the vampaneze with a short sword in one hand, a spiked chain in the other, laughing brutally as they fell beneath her. I'd have cheered her display a few minutes earlier, but now I felt only dismay at the joy she and the other vampires were taking in the destruction.

"This isn't right," I muttered to myself. Killing the vampaneze was one thing — it had to be done — but relishing their downfall was wrong. There was something deeply unsettling about seeing the vampires find so much ghoulish satisfaction in the massacre.

Confused as I was, I decided I'd better wade in and help. The sooner we finished off the vampaneze, the sooner I could turn my back on the horror. Taking a sharp dagger from the man I'd killed, I called off my spiders, then threw my flute away and stepped forward to join the press of battling vampires and vampaneze.

I kept to the edges of the fighting, jabbing at the feet or legs of vampaneze, distracting them, making it easier for the vampires they were facing to disarm and kill them. I took no pleasure from my success, only continued, determined to help bring things to a quick conclusion.