He lowered his hands and swallowed the magic. “Twelve moons,” he croaked. “Why did you have to come? If it had been Breff, I could have blasted him and half of this damn camp at the same time!”
Ashi said nothing. Singe sighed. “I’m sorry. They’re your clan.”
“We’re Dah’mir’s clan,” Ashi whispered bitterly. She reached behind her back. “It’s time, Singe. Hruucan is waiting.” She held out his rapier. The edge had been honed bright. Singe gave her a crooked smile as he took the weapon.
“Thank you. Not that it will do much good. I drove this through Hruucan’s arm in Bull Hollow and he barely even bled.”
“Use magic,” Ashi advised him. “Use magic or strike for a killing blow. A dolgaunt will shrug off anything less.” She hesitated for a moment, then looked down at the dirt floor. “Singe, I’m sorry I didn’t help you escape when I had the chance.”
The Aundairian started. “Ashi?”
She looked up at him. “I think you were right. I think I changed while I was away from the Bonetree.” She drew a deep breath. “It won’t be an honest death, but if Hruucan lets you live, I’ll kill you.”
Singe winced. “I know you mean that in the best possible way, but it really doesn’t sound reassuring. But thank you. I hope it won’t come to that.” He sighed and slid the rapier into his scabbard, then looked down at himself.
Two weeks’ travel from Zarash’ak had left him and his clothes filthy. If he was going to end up dead or crippled shortly anyway, he thought, he might as well risk a little magic. He spoke a simple spell, straightened his clothes and ran his fingers through his hair. Dirt sifted down onto the ground and a pleasant smell of spices surrounded him. “Better?” he asked Ashi.
The big hunter nodded. Singe stood straight and steeled himself. “Let’s go meet Hruucan.” He marched to the doorway and ducked through.
The Bonetree encampment was abandoned. From somewhere up ahead, he could hear the murmur of an excited crowd. With Ashi following him close, he strode toward it. They were almost out of the camp when a roar rose on the air, a weird muttering echo forming part of it. His bold step faltered. Ashi caught him and urged him on.
“That will be Hruucan entering the ring,” she said grimly.
“And the echo?”
“Dolgrims. Dah’mir has brought the children of Khyber out of the mound to watch the duel.”
Singe blinked. “The mound is empty?”
“Maybe,” answered Ashi. “There’s no way to know for certain.”
The wizard looked at her. “Were you serious about rescuing me if you had the chance?”
She nodded.
Singe’s guts twisted. “Then if you get the chance while I’m fighting, go into the mound and rescue Dandra,” he said. “Get her out of here. Kill her if you have to. Just make sure that she’s beyond Dah’mir’s reach!”
Ashi’s pierced lips hung open. “Into the ancestor mound?” she asked. “No one goes into the ancestor mound.”
“Dandra’s done it,” Singe hissed. “Twice. Forget about me, but help Dandra.” He searched her eyes. They were wide and frightened. “Please, Ashi!” he begged her. “Dah’mir has nothing in store for Dandra but torture. She needs your help.”
Ashi swallowed. “I-”
But suddenly they were on the edge of the crowd and approaching a broad aisle that opened through the mass of the Bonetree clan. Breff and another hunter were waiting. They grabbed Singe and shoved him forward. Singe looked back for Ashi.
The crowd was already closing in eager anticipation. The tall hunter vanished behind him. Singe’s teeth clenched. Was she going to help or wasn’t she?
Either way he was on his own. “All right then,” he growled to himself. “Let’s put on a show.” He shrugged his arms, pulled himself away from Breff and the other hunter, and fixed them with a cold glare.
“Touch me again and I’ll remember it.” The two hunters pulled up short. Singe turned and marched down the remainder of the rapidly closing aisle.
The “ring” was more like an oval, perhaps twenty paces at its widest point and twice as long. Dolgrims and the Bonetree clan stood all around it, a simple rope holding them back. Big torches burned atop six tall poles spaced around the ring, casting their flickering, ruddy glow down onto the dusty ground below and making the night beyond seem even darker.
The crowd fell silent as Singe stepped into the light. At the far end of the ring, the end closest to the mound, stood Hruucan, tentacles twitching hungrily. Behind him, Dah’mir and Medala sat like monarchs in great chairs raised up on a low platform. Dah’mir stood up. “Begin!” he shouted.
The roar that burst from the crowd was deafening, a buffeting wave of sound. Hruucan launched himself down the length of the ring, sprinting with a speed the wizard wouldn’t have thought possible. Singe thrust out his arms and spoke the first of the spells he had carefully studied over the course of the afternoon. The words of the magic vanished in the roar of the crowd, but that didn’t matter.
Light shimmered blue around him, then faded away. Singe could feel the protection of the magic clinging to him, though, an invisible skin of force that would help keep the buds and tendrils of Hruucan’s skin from digging into his flesh quite so easily.
Then Hruucan was on him. From a dozen feet away, the dolgaunt leaped at him, curled fists leading, tentacles whipping around. Singe ripped his rapier free and threw himself to the side. Hruucan landed in a crouch and twisted back to his feet, turning smoothly to face Singe. His horrid, eyeless face was expressionless, but there was emotion in his every movement-he glided into a ready stance with a contemptuous grace.
Singe took a slow step back, putting a little distance between them, keeping his rapier up. Hruucan didn’t move. Even his tentacles were still, poised like serpents. Singe risked another step.
Hruucan darted forward. His hands, open flat, thrust out in a flurry of short, sharp strikes that seemed to twine together with the attacks of his tentacles. Singe flung up his rapier, trying to put the blade in the way of that rain of blows. He stumbled backward as he parried, his feet raising little clouds of dust from the ground.
Then the dolgaunt pulled back, leaving him staggering-and wondering if he’d actually stopped Hruucan’s attack or if the foul creature had only been toying with him.
The noise of the crowd was slowly dying back, overwhelming roars giving way to rippling shouts. Singe drew a hissing breath and moved to the side, circling around Hruucan. The dolgaunt moved to match him, always staying low and ready to strike. His tentacles swayed and stirred to either side of him as if each was trying independently to lure Singe into an attack. He didn’t fall for it.
His free hand darted forward and he snapped a seething word of magic. Flames flared from his spread fingertips, splashing across the ring-but abruptly it was as if Hruucan was simply no longer there. To the soaring cheers of the crowd, the dolgaunt whirled aside, flowing away from the fiery magic in a tight spin of arms and tentacles. Singe turned to follow him but Hruucan was faster. His spinning form almost seemed to unravel, tentacles stretching out to slap at Singe. The wizard dodged away from one, but the other caught him with a hard slap across his face.
As he stumbled and reeled from the force of blow, the other tentacle snaked back and lashed around his legs, ripping his feet out from under him. Singe slammed down hard onto his back. He sucked in breath desperately and scrambled to regain his feet.
Hruucan met him with a pair of punches so fast and hard they lifted him up and threw him back. Singe hit the ground a second time, his chest aching, his lungs sucking hard for air.
The night shook with the roars of the Bonetree clan and Dah’mir’s dolgrims. Singe rolled over onto his side and looked up to see Hruucan sinking back into his ready stance. The wizard cleared his throat, spat blood onto the dry ground, and climbed back to his feet. Forcing himself to stand straight, he lifted his rapier and offered the dolgaunt a taunting salute.