Teel’s been gone a long time.”
The anger and fear turned to horror. “Morgan, no! I would
know! I could tell if it wasn’t her!”
“Steff, listen …”
“Morgan, he’s going to kill her! Let me go!”
Steff jerked free and Morgan grabbed him again. “Steff, look
at what she’s done! She’s betrayed us!”
“No!” the Dwarf screamed and struck him.
Morgan went down in a heap, the force of the blow leaving
him stunned. His first reaction was surprise; he hadn’t thought
it possible that Steff could still possess such strength. He pushed
himself to his knees, watching as the Dwarf raced after Padi-
shar, screaming something the Highlander couldn’t understand.
Steff caught up with the big man when they were just a few
steps from Teel. The Dwarf threw himself on Padishar from
behind, seizing his sword arm, forcing it down. Padishar shouted
in fury, tried to break free and failed. Steff was all over him,
wrapped about him like a second skin.
In the confusion, Teel struck. She was on them like a cat, the
iron bar lifted. The blows hammered down, quick and unchal-
lenged, and in a matter of seconds both Padishar and Steff lay
bleeding on the cavern floor.
Morgan staggered to his feet alone to face her.
She came for him unhurriedly, and as she did so there was a
moment in which all of his memories of her came together at
once. He saw her as the small, waiflike girl that he had met at
Culhaven in the darkened kitchen of Granny Elise and Auntie
Jilt, her honey-colored hair just visible beneath the folds of her
hooded cloak, her face concealed by the strange leather mask.
He saw her listening at the edges of the campfire’s light to the
conversation shared by the members of the little company who
had journeyed through the Wolfsktaag. He saw her crowded
close to Steffat the base of the Dragon’s Teeth before they went
to meet with the shade of Allanon, suspicious, withdrawn,
fiercely protective.
He forced the images away seeing her only as she was now,
striking down Padishar and Steff, too swift and strong to be what
she pretended. Even so, it was hard to believe that she was a
Shadowen, harder still to accept that they had all been fooled so
completely.
He pulled free the broadsword and waited. He would have to
be quick. Maybe he would have to be more than quick. He
remembered the creatures in the Pit. Iron alone hadn’t been
enough to kill them.
Teel went into a crouch as she reached him, her eyes dark
pools within the mask, the look that was reflected there hard
and certain. Morgan gave a quick feint, then cut viciously at the
girl’s legs. She sidestepped the blow easily. He cut again-once,
twice. She parried, and the shock of the sword blade- striking
the iron bar washed through him. Back and forth they lunged,
each waiting for the other to provide an opening.
Then a series of blows brought the flat of the broadsword
against the iron bar and the blade shattered. Morgan npped at
the bar with what was left, the handle catching it and twisting it
free. Both sword and bar skittered away into the dark.
Instantly Teel threw herself on Morgan, her hands closing
about his throat. She was incredibly strong. He had only a mo-
ment to act as he fell backward. His hand closed on the dagger
at his waist, and he shoved it into her stomach. She drew back,
surprised. He kicked at her, thrusting her back, drew the dagger
in his boot and jammed it into her side, ripping upward.
She backhanded him so hard that he was knocked off his feet.
He landed with a grunt, jarred so that the breath was knocked
from his body. Spots danced before his eyes, but he gasped air
into his lungs and scrambled up.
Teel was standing where he had left her, the daggers still
embedded in her body. She reached down and calmly pulled
them free, tossing them away.
She knows I can’t hurt her, he thought in despair. She knows
I haven’t anything that can stop her.