4

the purple knight's eyes widened. "You are a sorcerer?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the din of battle.

"I am no mage," Andor corrected him, and then added before the wizard could react to this little revelation: "But I have some experience with such matters." He had caught the wizard's gaze just as it flicked toward him, but had not yet looked back. The purple knight was busy fighting and did not appear to be looking for anyone else in particular at that moment. Andor wondered how much the man knew about him; if he were aware of Andor's identity, surely he would not have been so careless as to let the prince speak openly of magic—especially if he suspected Andor might already know something of sorcery himself. If the purple knight knew nothing more than that Andor had once belonged to Takhisis' service, perhaps he thought Andor too weak-willed or inexperienced to harbor any ambition beyond that of escaping from this place alive. But if the man knew more . . .

The purple knight's attention drifted away again, and Andor watched him closely, trying to judge whether the man was being deliberately oblivious or if his own mind was simply preoccupied. After what seemed an eternity, the purple knight turned his sword around and handed it to someone else. Andor noticed immediately that it was not a man who held the weapon now, but one of the dark elves. Andor blinked. Was the other dark elf also of the race of men? And if not, how was it possible that the man had managed to conceal his true nature when speaking with Andor?

Andor glanced aside at the wizard. The man was staring intently across the cavern, obviously watching the fight between the dark elves and the priestess. At the moment, the priestess was the only one of the enemy to hold her own against them. She stood alone on a small island of stone amid the sea of bodies, casting spells and swinging her staff like a club. Her hair floated about her head in the breeze created by the blasts she directed at her opponents, and the glow of magic flickered about her every movement.

the purple knight used his sword power against the mage who easily defeated him. A wave of flame engulfed the man, and even though he cast a shield spell—which worked effectively enough to prevent any more damage being done to him—he was helpless to defend himself until the flames dissipated. His body sagged to the floor. No sooner had he fallen than another dark elf stepped forward. He moved quickly, attacking the priestess before she had time to prepare herself for his attack, and succeeded in cutting off her retreat. One blow from his mace—a huge weapon that resembled a spiked ball—cut through the air where her head had been moments before.