Tal heard his friends' screams, but he could not break free to help them. Rusk's single arm was charged with infernal energy, making it more powerful than both of Tal's combined. Worse yet, while Tal had only recently learned the trick of transforming at will, Rusk had known it for over fifty years. His jaws elongated when he willed, tearing into Tal's shoulders and face, only to shrink back again so he could slam his forehead into Tal's face.
If he could regain the sword, Tal had no doubt he could end this conflict in a few seconds. Rusk must have realized the same thing, for he clung to Tal even when TaPs claws pulled ribbons from his arm and chest. Instead of avoiding the attacks, Rusk tried overbearing Tal, pinning him against the ground. Despite his inhuman strength, Rusk could not maintain a hold without the use of two arms.
"Quickly!" screamed Sivana.
Tal strained his neck to see what had happened. Rusk sank long teeth into the side of his face, tearing his cheek and an ear. Tal whipped his head to turn the wolfs jaws aside, then shifted himself completely to wolf form. The transformation came so quickly that it surprised even Rusk, and Tal slipped free of his opponent.
He had only a second to look around before Rusk was on him again. In that instant, he saw Quickly's body lying ruined on the ground. Above her, Sivana and Mallion fought a losing battle against four werewolves. Nearby, Feena climbed onto the stage to avoid a trio of werewolves fighting amongst themselves.
Without looking, Tal knew that Rusk had leaped toward him again. He dropped to the ground and rolled away. The impact was nothing compared to the punishment he'd already received, but it drove his anger more firmly into his heart. He felt a fury overcome him and welcomed it. It brought no fear this time, only hot resolve to kill Rusk and all his brood.
He rolled up to his feet in half-human form just as Rusk turned to rush him again. This time Tal met his charge, both clawed hands reaching for Rusk's throat. The collision threatened to decapitate both werewolves, as their long claws sank into each other's throats.
Tal's painful grimace was mirrored in Rusk's lunatic grin. The Huntmaster's face was a mask of rapture. Tal's fingers closed more and more tightly, squeezing the breath out of him even as Rusk's own hand crushed his throat. Just as his vision blurred into a rain of red sparks, Tal felt Rusk's hand fall away from his throat just as the man's heavy body dropped to the floor. Tal almost turned away when he saw the Huntmaster's eyes move. They flicked up toward the eclipsed moon.
Tal followed Rusk's gaze to see the black disc completely obscure Selune. For a moment, only the trailing shards were visible in her wake.
The werewolves ceased their attacks, backing away from the surviving players. Ennis clutched a wounded arm to his chest, and Mallion bled from three or four wounds, but only Quickly lay dead. Feena knelt by her body, holding her useless hands above the mortal wounds. She turned toward Tal, her face twisted with grief and helplessness. Tal realized she must be thinking of Maleva's death.
A hoarse whisper called Tal's attention back to Rusk.
"The Black Wolf prevails," he rasped. "The pack is… yours…" His whispering became too faint to hear. He beckoned weakly for Tal to lean close.
"Do it!" said a sweet voice. The white wolf had resumed her elven form. With the moon veiled in Toril's shadow, the firelight colored her pale body. "The pack needs a strong leader."
Tal looked back down at the Huntmaster. Rusk's lips were moving, but even Tal's keen ears could not make out the words. Reluctantly, he knelt beside Rusk and put his ear close to the Huntmaster's lips.
"Wait!" called Darrow. "They manipulated me into seeking you out. This is a trick!"
"No," said the elf. "Darrow wants it for himself. Hurry, before the moment is lost!"
Tal didn't trust any of them, but he began to move away from Rusk. Before he did, the Huntmaster's death rattle sounded deep in his throat, and a cold breath escaped his lips. Even as Tal backed away, he saw the breath take shape as an inky wisp more solid than any smoke. It curled and writhed toward Tal's face.
"Tal!" cried Feena. "Get away from it!" She raised her holy symbol and called on Selune, but to no effect.
Tal stepped back as fast as he could. Two of the bigger werewolves rushed toward him, hunkered down in half-wolf form. He turned suddenly and headed for Perivel's sword. The black air moved with alarming speed. It brushed his shoulder as Tal leaped for the blade, catching it and rolling away from the werewolves.
Back on his feet, Tal swept the blade through the blackness. The stuff parted in the sword's wake, then reformed as if only blown by a breeze.
The werewolves split, one lunging for either side of Tal. He chose the one on his left, spinning backward to avoid the black smoke and smoothly turning the motion into a powerful two-handed stroke. The blade cut clear through the werewolf from shoulder to ribs. A shower of blood covered Tal as the body hit the ground with two distinct, wet sounds.
His other attacker retreated, as one of the other werewolves howled in rage and despair for her mate.
Tal felt hands on his back and heard Feena's voice. Another prayer to Selune, he thought, as a cool sensation ran from her fingers into his body.
Whatever power she had instilled in him prevented the black smoke from coming nearer. It shied away and returned like a scorned cat determined to get inside.
Tal raised his sword, but Feena said, "Don't. You'll break the spell if you attack it."
All watched now as the angry black air curled up into itself, then fled back to Rusk's body, where it hovered over his gaping mouth. It whirled impatiently, unable to return to its ruined home.
"What is it?" asked Tal.
"Rusk," said Feena. "That's my guess. It's Rusk's own black spirit."
"Was that the plan, Sorcia?" Darrow called out to the elf. "To force his own essence into the Black Wolf?"
"You're such a tool, Darrow," said Sorcia. "You don't deserve to know."
"But I do," said Tal. He stalked toward the elf, Perivel's blade firmly in hand. "Is he right?"
Sorcia crouched, torn between running and fighting. As Tal loomed over her, she knelt down instead, hanging her head low. "It's true."
Tal cast his gaze across the other surviving werewolves. One by one, they lay themselves on the ground. Those in wolf form put their heads on their paws, while those on two legs bowed grudgingly.
Selune formed a narrow arc as she peeked out from the shadow. As her barest light fell upon Rusk's black soul, the cloud evaporated in a high, grating squeal that hurt Tal's teeth to hear. In a few seconds, it was gone.
"It's over," said one of the werewolves. It was one of the two Tal had fought the night before. Tal had heard him called Karnek.
"No," said Tal, "not yet. The Malveens still have Eckert's daughter."
"She's probably already dead," said Sorcia.
"Shut up," said Darrow.
"No one hears you, traitor, weakling, tool!" she spat at Darrow. "Rusk used you as he did because you had already proven yourself a weakling and a toady to the Malveens." She turned her back on him and addressed the other werewolves. "With Rusk dead, there's no reason to stay here."
"Talbot is the one who killed him," said Darrow. "It's his decision, not yours!"
"You people follow whoever kills your last leader?" said Chancy incredulously. "Rusk wasn't the only one who was mad."
"You know nothing," said another female werewolf. She had twisted her blond hair into a crude braid while in human form. "We respect strength but do not follow blindly."
"It doesn't matter," said Sorcia. "We shouldn't be here. We should never have left the woods."
"Then go back," said Tal. The werewolves looked at him in surprise. "Get out of my city, and stay away. If you come here again, I'll make sure you never leave."