Chane stepped into the cavern's entrance hollow still clutching Welstiel's severed fingers-one of which wore the arcane ring of nothing.

He felt no hunger at all. Why?

Welstiel's pack lay against the hollow's near wall. He must have set it aside before facing Magiere. Chane grabbed it as he headed for the tunnel.

Running footsteps echoed from the entrance, and he stopped short.

Whether it was one of Welstiel's ferals or Leesil and the others, Chane was too weary for a fight. All he wanted was to get away from this place. He turned back to the chasm's edge.

Reaching around the landing's side, he felt for the lip of the nearest pocket in the cavern wall. When he found a secure hold, he swung out and into the pocket.

He landed face-to-face with a mound of slick stone, like a half-formed figure rising out of the rock floor. He wriggled past to crouch in the rear and began pulling the glove's remnants off Welstiel's severed fingers.

The second one bore the ring of nothing, slick with black fluids.

Chane slipped it over his own finger without bothering to wipe it off.

The pocket's walls wavered briefly in his sight.

Leesil ran down the arcing tunnel, followed by Sgaile. He slowed only once when he spotted the skeletons in their stone cubbies. Chap raced on, giving them no notice.

The dog's eerie hunting cry rolled along the tunnel walls an instant before Leesil burst out into a widened hollow.

Hundreds more cubbies pockmarked the vast cavern before him. Vapor wafted up from the glowing chasm, partly obscuring four narrow stone bridges arcing out to a stone platform above the wide chasm's center. Magiere stood but one step off the platform along the nearest bridge-with Welstiel a few paces in front of her.

"Get to that one!" Sgaile shouted, pointing with Leesil's old blade.

The muscular undead stepped to the bridge.

Leesil didn't see Chane anywhere as he sprinted forward. Chap closed first and snapped his jaws on the hem of the undead's robe.

"Hold him!" Leesil shouted.

He grabbed the big undead's robe between the shoulders, trying to get a grip with his punching blade still in hand. From the corner of his eye, he saw Welstiel block Magiere's first swing.

Leesil heaved hard as Chap lurched backward with his jaws clenched. The undead's robe began to tear in the dog's teeth. The muscular vampire stumbled as Sgaile closed from behind, raising Leesil's old winged blade.

The undead set his feet and twisted sharply around, swinging the iron bar.

Leesil's grip broke as the robe tore in his hand. He teetered, and Sgaile barely ducked as the iron bar arced through the air. It came straight at Leesil's neck.

He had no chance to regain his balance and raised both blades.

The bar connected with a sharp metal clang. The sound vibrated through his forearms as he was thrown off his feet.

Leesil landed hard on the stone floor.

The bulky undead lunged again for the bridge.

Magiere willed rage to come, pushing everything but Welstiel from her mind. Fury, like an echo of lost hunger, flooded Magiere at her first swing.

Welstiel blocked her blow with his longsword and stroked it aside, but his maimed left hand spattered black fluids all around. He retreated another step, drawing her further out onto the bridge. Rising vapor dampened Magiere's hair and strands of it clung to her cheeks.

"This is not necessary," Welstiel nearly shouted. "I know it speaks to you and fills your head with deception. Do not listen to that thing hiding in slumber, toying with us both! Everything I have done is to protect the orb-"

"For yourself!" Magiere returned.

Mention of that whispering voice, the connection between him and her, only made fury grow inside her. She snarled and swung again.

Welstiel dipped his longsword, catching her heavier falchion.

Beneath the impact of steel, he faltered, and quickly shifted his block. Magiere's blade slid along his and spun away. Welstiel came about and slashed for her throat. She didn't have time to pull the falchion up, and had to drop low.

The longsword passed just above her head. She jerked her falchion back, slicing across his side.

Welstiel's mouth gaped beneath his widened eyes, and he retreated another step.

The blade he'd created to defend himself against their father was now used against him. He felt its searing touch just like any other undead.

Magiere flushed with pleasure at his pain-and wanted to hurt him more.

As her mother, Magelia, had lain bleeding to death in her birthing bed, Welstiel had taken her only child, born of rape by an undead father and the blood rite of a necromancer.

But Bryen and Ubad were gone. Only Welstiel remained to suffer for all three.

Magiere reached behind with her free hand. She pulled the long silvery war dagger from the back of her belt.

Leesil flopped over and slashed for the undead's leg. His blade's tip sliced across its calf, splitting cleanly through boot cuff and breeches. The vampire whipped its curly-haired head around.

Maddened eyes fixed upon Leesil. It swung down with the iron bar, and he twisted the other way. Stone chips scattered over his face as the bar's end cracked upon the floor.

Leesil slammed his blade down atop the bar before the undead could lift it again. Chap lunged in, wrapping his jaws around the undead's other ankle, and Leesil saw the split where he'd struck its calf.

Thin trails of black fluids still ran down its leg-but no wound remained. It had already closed.

The iron bar lurched, squealing with sparks as it scraped free of Leesil's blade. He looked up as Sgaile kicked out hard.

The undead's head snapped back under the blow. Chap released his jaws and bit into the side of the man's knee.

"Over the edge!" Sgaile shouted. "Into the chasm!"

Leesil kicked into the undead's other knee as Chap shredded the one in his teeth.

Sgaile whirled. His foot lashed out and connected again.

Leesil caught a glimpse of Magiere.

Welstiel backed along the bridge. Magiere charged him with both sword and dagger drawn.

Magiere flipped her dagger, gripping it point down. The heavy falchion was slower than Welstiel's longsword, and she might not parry well with the dagger. But the silvery blade braced along her forearm might keep her from losing a hand if she had to block. All that mattered was stopping Welstiel's sword, just for one moment.

His tunic was split along the side. The fabric's edges were soaked dark with his fluids. But in place of an open wound, Magiere saw only a scar.

She'd seen the marks her sword left on the undead, but the wound couldn't have closed that quickly.

"I am bolstered… fed in the orb's presence," Welstiel whispered, "but you… you still live and breathe. No matter what you gain from it, I will not need to take your head… to kill you!"

Magiere hesitated. She didn't know to what extent the orb could affect her and wasn't about to test it. If he was right, she had to take his head before she was too wounded to go on.

Welstiel rushed with an upward whip of his longsword, trying to strike for her chest between her weapons. Magiere pivoted sideways and swept her left forearm down.

She caught the sword's end with the flattened dagger. Welstiel dropped low and thrust out, and the longsword skimmed along the blade.

The sword's point buried in the upper half of Magiere's sword arm.

Without hunger to block the pain, Magiere crumpled and dropped the falchion.

Chap saw Magiere drop to one knee. And he went cold inside as Leesil shouted, "No… no!"

Sgaile's foot cracked against the muscular undead's skull.

Chap sprang, clawing up the undead's body.

He didn't care what happened to him, so long as this vampire went down and someone got to Magiere. He sank teeth into the undead's throat and called up a memory from within Leesil's mind.