As they went, the crimson illumination grew brighter and the stifling heat fiercer. They shed their cloaks. Soon after, Mari tossed aside her green velvet jacket; her thin white shirt clung to her body, soaked with sweat. K'shar stripped down to his black leather breeches. Ruddy light gleamed off his sinewy arms and chest. Each breath seared Mari's lungs. She wondered if they could survive much deeper.

Abruptly, they rounded a corner and found themselves staring into a gigantic cavern that was a nightmarish fantasy of dark stalactites and stalagmites, all half-melted into grotesque shapes eerily resembling tortured souls. Crossing the center of the cavern floor, like a huge fiery serpent, was a stream of molten rock. Wisps of yellow smoke rose hissing from the river of lava.

Mari and K'shar stood on the jagged edge of the passageway. From here it was a sheer drop of thirty feet to the hard floor of the cavern.

"I don't suppose you have another rope with you," Mari choked out.

"I fear not, Mari. But perhaps there is another way to—"

The half-elf's words became a cry of alarm. Weakened by countless years of exposure to the heat, the edge of the tunnel crumbled under their feet. Mari screamed as she and K'shar pitched forward. Desperately, she flailed for balance. K'shar arched his back, stretching his legs out and pushing against the crumbling precipice. This action cast him even farther from the edge of the tunnel, out into midair, yet it also had the effect of throwing Mari away from him, backward into the tunnel.

She fell hard inside the passageway, air rushing painfully from her chest. Gasping and spitting, she pulled herself to her hands and knees and crawled to the precipice. Carefully, she peered over the edge, dreading what she might see.

"Are you well… Mari?"

K'shar's voice rose thinly from below. Mari blinked against the fierce glow of the lava. Then she saw him directly below her. She choked back a cry of despair. The half-elf looked like a broken doll dashed against a rock by an angry child. One leg was bent beneath him at a hideous angle, and his right arm dangled limply from his shoulder. Blood smeared his face. She thought she could see exposed bone on his cheek and brow.

"I'm… I'm fine, K'shar," she managed to call out. "I am glad." His words bubbled wetly in his throat. The Hunter turned his gaze away from her. With his one good arm, he began pulling himself across the rough floor of the cavern toward the wall, leaving a wide smear of dark blood behind him. He vanished from sight beneath a rock overhang.

"K'shar!" Mari called out in anguish.

For a moment there was no answer. Then she heard his voice, weak but oddly triumphant. "I have found something, Mari!"

"What is it?"

"There is a door set into the wall. It is fashioned of some sort of metal, but like none I've ever seen. There is a small trickle of water seeping from beneath the door.

And I can hear a rushing sound on the other side. There must be an underground river behind it." There was a long pause. "I think I can open the door, Mari. There is a lever."

It was exactly what they had been searching for, a way to bring a source of water in contact with the lava. Yet if K'shar opened the portal while he was down there…

"K'shar," she called out in a quavering voice. "Are you sure?"

"I want to do this, Mari."

She swallowed hard, then shouted as loudly as parched throat allowed. "I am glad we could be friends Kshar."

The half-elf's reply echoed faintly back to her. "As am I, Mari. Now please go. I will count to one thousand then pull the lever. You must be out of the tunnel before then."

There was a pause, and she heard his voice echoing up from the furnace of the cavern. "One… two… three…"

Mari climbed to her feet. "Farewell, Hunter," she whispered. Then she turned and broke into a run, careening down the tunnel. As she went, she began to count desperately under her breath.

"… four… five… six…"

* * * * *

Morhion spread his arms as the shadowsteeds dove toward him, claws extended. The two shadevari, each sitting astride one of the winged beasts, opened their fanged maws in screams of depthless hunger. Dissonant words of magic flew from Morhion's tongue. The shadow steeds were so close he could smell their fetid breath. With a final, shouted word, he brought his hands together, releasing the spell.

A cloud of thick smoke expanded rapidly outward.

Morhion dove to the ground and rolled. There was a deafening whir of wings and a terrible rending sound as sharp talons dug into bare stone inches from his head. The shadevari shrieked in rage; the sound of wings receded. The mage climbed to his feet. Already the magi-cal smoke screen that had hidden him was dissipating. Cold dread trickled down Morhion's throat. In the min-utes since he had last looked, the shadowking had grown. Its midnight wings had spread wider, and it had raised itself slightly off the platform, leaning on a long, muscular arm that looked as if it had been carved from polished onyx. He could not see the shadowking's visage, but curving obsidian horns sprang from its brow. In time with the creature's throbbing wings, the Shadowstar pulsated against the creature's torso, glowing brightly one moment, fading to dark the next. Soon the shadowking would be whole.

The last tatters of magical smoke evaporated. High above, the shadowsteeds cried out as they caught sight of their enemy again. They folded their wings and dove once more. Morhion had no more offensive spells left. He could only watch.

Suddenly a dark form appeared before him. Two burning eyes bore into his chest. "The shadevari will slay you, mage," Serafi hissed. "Why do you not do something?"

"I have no magic that will stop them."

"What of the witch's ring?"

The mage shook his head ruefully. "Would that I understood its magic. It might indeed help me. But I do not." What did it matter now? He had done what he had intended; he had bought Mari and K'shar time enough to reach the blocked fissure. "I will die now."

"You are wrong, mage!" Serafi shrieked. "I will not let you!" He stretched a translucent gauntlet toward Morhion's chest. "I need some of your life force. Give it to me!"

Before Morhion could answer yea or nay, the spectral knight took what he wanted. The mage cried out as crackling green energy leapt from his chest toward Serafi's outstretched fingers.

"Ah, yes!" Serafi whispered exultantly.

The shadowsteeds were nearly upon them. Serafi withdrew his hand as Morhion sank to the ground with a moan. Serafi turned and thrust his clenched gauntlet toward the descending creatures. This time the magic was blood-red, and it crackled away from the spectral knight's hand. Crimson energy engulfed the shadow steeds, sizzling as it plunged into their dark bodies. They screamed in agony, winging high into the sky to circle warily above the pinnacle.

"Your magic—it harmed them," Morhion gasped in amazement.

Serafi shook an ethereal fist in anger. "It was not enough."

Weakly, Morhion struggled to his feet. "Then do it again," he croaked. "Use more of my life force to destroy them."

"It would kill you," Serafi said flatly. "And in case you have forgotten, preserving your body is the sole purpose of this exercise."

Morhion gave a grim laugh. "Then I think you have failed, Serafi." He pointed weakly. High above, the tow shadowsteeds separated, winging away from each other. They were going to dive at the pinnacle from opposing directions.

With effort, Morhion straightened his frame to his full height and brushed his flowing hair from his brow. He would meet his death with dignity. As he lowered his hand, his eye caught a glint of violet. Isela's ring. Once again he was struck by the contrast of brilliance and blackness contained within the ring's purple gem. It was almost as if the jewel did not simply reflect the world round, but rather separated that reflection into the basic components of light and dark. Morhion let out a gasp. In that moment, he understood the key to the ring's magic.