Darkend swept ahead eagerly, hoping to bring the fight to a rapid conclusion. Already he could feel the throbbing in his muscles. Fatigue would soon add weight to his weapon and sluggishness to his every reaction. But Gludh met his onrush with feet planted firmly, the axe held cross-ways in both hands so that ultimately the blows of the mace clattered against an immovable barrier. Defending himself, Gludh seemed to meet the attacks with ease, while Darkend felt his strength draining away with each futile blow.

And then Gludh made a surprising move. Ducking low, he jabbed with the head of his axe almost as if he were stabbing with a spear. In the darkness the moving shadow struck true, and the blunt end of the weapon crashed into Darkend's thigh.

His flesh was protected by a sheath of black steel plate mail, but the wound underneath that plate was still painfully sensitive. With a groan of agony, Darkend staggered backward, striving desperately to hold himself upright. Another attack forced him to pivot and plant his full weight on his injured limb, and the maneuver inevitably sent him rumbling to the floor. Only a frantic roll enabled him to escape the crushing swipe of the axe that smashed the surface where he had fallen. Darkend grasped the steel shaft of his mace with both hands, using the weapon as a bar to deflect the next blow of his enemy's heavy weapon. He managed to knock the wicked blade aside mere inches from the tusked protrusions of his faceplate.

Gludh's blade slashed, barely missing the prone Daergar's fingers. Once again a desperate twist sent the axe blade bouncing into the floor. Darkend kicked his opponent in the knee, forcing him backward and buying enough time for the weary warrior to scramble to his knees. With a wild swing of the mace he pushed Gludh even farther back, and was able to use his good leg to push himself back on his feet.

Trying to lunge in pursuit, Darkend felt his injured leg falter. Although he recovered his balance, his foe was easily able to evade his clumsy swing. Darkend imagined Gludh's elation as his weakpoints were revealed to all. Jeers and shouts came from much of the gallery, while others in the bloodthirsty crowd-presumably those with hefty bets on Darkend-groaned in audible dismay. Snarling louder, the injured Darkend drove forward, limping but still moving with surprising agility. He forced his enemy to fall back around the edge of the dais.

But even in his retreat Gludh sneered in expectant triumph. The arrogant sound of his laughter rang in Dark-end's ears. Still the mace-wielding dwarf pressed his attack, reaching farther with each swing until a voice of caution whispered in his mind, reminding him of danger. He knew that Kolgard was toying with him, drawing him into an ever faster pursuit, sapping the thin residue of endurance that allowed his injured leg to hold him up at all.

Darkend halted abruptly at the exact moment Gludh made his sudden move. The retreating dwarf feinted a lunge backward, then planted his feet and swung the mighty axe. The blade whistled past Darkend's chest, a mere inch short of carving a deep and gory wound. The follow-up attack by the mace was feeble, coming nowhere near his opponent. The sounds of the crowd swelled again as the course of battle reversed.

Gludh threw himself into a frenzied attack, bringing the axe downward, then swinging it across from right to left and the reverse. He made a difficult upswing that sent Darkend stumbling to avoid a potentially disemboweling blow. The mace swiped in response, but now Darkend's exhausted shoulders were straining and weariness brought on by a week of duels turned his arms to lead. Again and again he avoided the lethal slashes, but each came a fraction of an inch closer than the previous attack. Inevitably one of the blows would bite deeply into Bellowsmoke's flesh.

Remembering the stone in his pocket, the enchanted item given to him by his sister, Darkend was sorely tempted to draw it forth as a last resort. But some grim vestige of pride held his hand and he found the strength to plant his feet for one last showdown with his attacker. Drawing on his last reserves, he lifted his mace and met his enemy's blows, parrying the deadly axeblade and striking desperately with his own spiked weapon.

The hammering blows echoed in the great chamber. The mace and axe sparked as the two dark dwarves fought like berserkers. Their weapons were a ringing blur of gray steel, whistling in from one side and then the other. Gludh was apparently content to let his foe exhaust himself with a fruitless series of attacks. When one of Darkend's blows finally swung wide, Gludh struck, bringing his axe down on his enemy's forearm with ringing force. Darkend gasped as he felt his arm go numb. Once again he stumbled away, trying to buy precious seconds to recover.

But Gludh Kolgard was clearly ready to end the fight. He stepped forward, swinging again and again, forcing Darkend inexorably across the dais that suddenly seemed terribly small. Soon the back of Darkend's boot had reached the edge, and Gludh's attacks still came without ceasing.

Darkend swung his mace wildly, merely to hold his opponent back for a fraction of a second so that his left hand could reach into his belt pocket. He quickly found the small stone and rubbed it hard between his fingers.

Gludh brought his axe up, holding the weapon in both hands as he readied himself for a skull-crushing blow. Darkend hurled the stone down to the dais, closing his eyes in the split second before impact.

Even through his tightly shut lids Darkend saw the bright flash of light. The shouts and cries of thousands of Daergar assailed his ears. The assembled masses had been painfully shocked by the sudden blast of brilliant illumination.

Gludh blinked stupidly as he brought his axe down in the spot that Darkend had just abandoned. The sharp blade bit into the floor. Drawing back for another blow, Gludh revealed his vulnerability: his face plate swung wildly. It was a simple matter for Darkend to hiss a cry of victory as he masked his mouth with his flattened hand and thereby make the sound seem to originate from a place several paces to his right. Fully blinded, Gludh spun on his heel and faced the area where he thought he had heard his enemy.

He never fully appreciated his mistake. Darkend's mace came down so hard on his head that Gludh Kolgard was dead before he felt the blow that killed him.

For long moments Darkend stood weakly drawing ragged gasps of breath as he stared down at the corpse of his last challenger. At first he was surprised at the lack of loud reaction from the vast gallery, but it soon dawned on him that the Daergar in the arena had undoubtedly been as stunned and momentarily blinded as Gludh Kolgard himself.

"Foul!" One bold watcher cried. This was soon echoed by hundreds and then thousands, of voices. The cries rose to a wall of sound as the blinking dark dwarves gradually regained their sight and witnessed the unfair result of the duel.

"Magic!" hissed one burly patriarch, a stubborn and lifelong rival whom Darkend recognized as Berest Elfslayer. "The duel is void!"

"The challenger is dead! I am the new thane of the Daergar, and I claim my eminence before you all!"

The bodyguards of the new thane had already scrambled onto the dais, forming a protective ring around their leader. Darkend stood in their midst, hands on hips and bristling chin jutting forward as he pivoted to face the Daergar. These were the crucial moments he knew-moments when the remembrance of his cheating was fresh and glaring in the minds of all. But his power was convincing as he stood with a rank of armored dwarves facing a comparatively unarmed populace.

"Nay! Let the matter be re-opened. The pretender must face another challenger!" cried Berest Elfslayer bravely.

Trying to ignore the voice, Darkend looked around impatiently. Where was Slickblade? Surely he would silence this rude dissent.