Dhamon shook his head. The muscles in his back tensed. "I haven't had near enough to drink-still awake, ain't I? But don't you worry about me. I'll be on s'my way soon enough. With first s'light I suspect. Then you and none of the s'other Qualinesti will have to stomach me anymore."

The half-elf took a step closer, and Dhamon saw himself reflected in a large polished medallion that dangled from a fine chain about his neck.

He scowled at the disheveled image.

The half-elf lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Go drown your sorrows somewhere else."

A hint of a smile tugged at Dhamon's face, then he opened his mouth to argue, but a gust of chill evening wind interrupted him. The tavern door flew open wide, banging loudly as two more elves entered. They were dusty and haggard-looking, the one carrying a gnarled staff a stranger to his eyes, the other very familiar and decorated with dried blood stains.

"Gauderic," Dhamon whispered. His face grew ashen as if he'd seen a ghost.

Gauderic likewise noticed him, nudged his companion, and pointed. "That's him! That's Palin Majere's worthless champion!"

At the same time, a colorful skirt swished loudly. "Here's your elven wine, Sir!" the serving girl musically announced. She gasped as the two elves charged toward them, pounding across the hard-packed dirt floor as they made their way around the tables.

Dhamon stood up, cracking his head on a beam of the low ceiling and bumping into the girl. She fell back against the ale-spattered half-elf, soaking him again as the pitcher slipped from her fingers and shattered against the floor.

The half-elf cursed and tried to help the girl to her feet, but they both slipped on the spilled wine, fell in a heap, and became tangled in her skirt. Dhamon ignored them and grabbed the edge of his table, upending it and positioning it as a shield against the two newcomers. The stranger collided with the tabletop and made a sickening thud, as Gauderic nimbly sidestepped the obstacle and raised his sword high.

"Dhamon Grimwulf!" he shouted. "You ordered us to charge the dragon! Charge and die!" He swung the sword in a wild arc above his head, sending the nearby patrons scrambling for cover, wine mugs in tow. "We shouldn't have listened to you!"

Dhamon kicked Gauderic in the stomach and sent him careening into an abandoned table.

"Noooo!" the serving girl hollered, as she finally managed to pick herself up. She awkwardly scampered through the maze of tables to the back room. "Silverwind! We've got trouble! Silverwind! Call the Watch!"

"I didn't want trouble," Dhamon grumbled. "I just wanted something to drink."

Both of the elves had recovered and were coming at him now, though the stranger was a bit groggy and blood ran from his nose. Furniture was being moved toward the walls to better accommodate the fight, and whispers and murmurs of speculation filled the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Dhamon saw the two human men wagering coins. A few of the elf patrons had their hands on their weapons, and Dhamon had no doubt whose side they would take if they decided to join in.

"My wife and sister!" the stranger spat. "Dead! Dead because of you!"

"My brothers and friends!" Gauderic added.

"I didn't force anyone to come with me!" Dhamon returned. He stooped to keep from bumping his head against the six-foot ceiling. He swung his own blade down, using the flat edge of the weapon and striking the stranger on the shoulder. "Dragons are dangerous! They kill people, dammit! That's just the way of it and you know it, Gauderic!"

"The green didn't kill you!" Gauderic returned. "You were lying on your belly, avoiding the fight! You were busy watching your men die!" He wiped the blood that ran from his lip with one hand and drove his other fist hard into Dhamon's stomach. Dhamon doubled over, and the stranger followed through by swinging his staff solidly into his side.

"You're coming with us, Dhamon Grimwulf," the stranger added. "We're turning you over to the authorities. You're going to stand trial in Barter! And there won't be anyone to speak in your defense. I want your death for the death of my wife and sister."

"Death for death," came a cry from a corner of the room.

"Try him here!"

"We don't need a trial!" another patron shouted.

The stranger swung the staff at Dhamon again.

Dhamon felt his ribs crack, the pain instantly sobering him. "I didn't kill those men. The dragon did. I've no quarrel with you," he hissed between clenched teeth. "I don't even know you." This he directed to the stranger. "Leave me be!" Favoring his side, he crouched and spun, somehow avoiding blows from both elves. "Leave me be!"

"You ordered them to fight the dragon!" Gauderic repeated. "Ordered them! You should have at least fought and died with them! Coward!"

"You didn't die either," Dhamon argued flatly. He brought his sword up to parry another swing of the stranger's staff. Dhamon's leg shot up, cracking his boot hard against the chin of the stranger and stunning him. The elf fell to the floor and Dhamon kicked him hard for good measure. He wouldn't be getting up for quite a while. "I didn't force anyone to go against the dragon, Gauderic. I didn't force you."

"Didn't you?" Gauderic sneered. He took a step back and caught his breath. Both men eyed each other, chests heaving and knuckles white on their sword pommels. "Palin's champion! A real hero. You ordered…"

"So I was wrong!" Dhamon spat. "Maybe. But you lived. You lived!"

"Only me!" Gauderic retorted. "And only because the dragon let me!" The elf's breath was ragged now, green eyes narrowed to slits. "She'd killed them all. All! And I was next. She dropped her head down so close I could see my face reflected in her eyes and feel her breath so hot against my legs. Stared at me and left! At first I thought I was just too inconsequential to be bothered with. Then I realized she was leaving me alive so word of her deeds this day could be spread to other men. I spent hours searching the river, hoping to find at least one more survivor, hoping to find you. All I found were corpses. I eventually found every mercenary-save their glorious leader. And I buried every one of them. It took me days. In that time the dragon came back twice to watch me."

Dhamon lowered his sword and shook his head.

"I wanted to bury you, too."

"Kill him!" came a wine-thick voice from a corner. "He let our brothers die! He should die, too!"

Gauderic snarled. "Told me you were a Dark Knight. That you gave it up. Maybe that was all a lie. Maybe you're still one of them."

"Dark Knight?" echoed throughout the room.

"Dark Knight of Neraka?" cried the old half-elf.

"That's what they're called now," Dhamon said flatly.

There was a second wave of murmurs, the sound of a few swords being drawn, the creak of wood as patrons leaned against the tables to better take everything in.

There was the clink of more coins being wagered, shouted words in the elf tongue, a faint cry from the back room. This last voice was the serving girl's, summoning the guard.

"Get the Dark Knight!"

"Kill the traitor!"

Suddenly plates were crashing to the floor. Chairs and benches were tipped over. Someone behind Dhamon hurled a mug, the heavy tankard striking his back. A boisterous curse of "death to the Dark Knight of Neraka" sounded. And from somewhere outside he heard a shrill whistle.

A silvery-haired elf was coming at him, using a chair for a weapon. Another had tugged free a table leg and was trying desperately to wield it like a club. Dhamon easily sidestepped this slightly inebriated pair and moved straight into the path of the old ale-drenched half-elf. The man lowered his head and lunged, ramming into Dhamon's stomach and momentarily dazing him.

Despite the pain, Dhamon forced himself to react. He brought his sword pommel down with a thud against the old half-elf's head, sending him to the floor. Dhamon swept the sword in an arc in front of him, keeping several other patrons at bay. He kicked out to his side, connecting with the jaw of a young elf who was merely trying to escape the press of bodies. Blood and teeth flew, and the unfortunate patron changed his mind and decided to join the fray, drawing a dagger and cursing loudly in several languages. The young elf angrily flung the blade at Dhamon, scowling when it bounced off the human's right thigh and nearly struck another patron.