Tearing her cloak from her shoulders, she wrapped it about her bundle as she turned and rushed back in the direction from which she had come.

The angle of the stair declined, and now she could hear a roaring, grating sound all about her. Ahead, a portion of the ceiling gave way and water rushed in. Beyond that, she could see the entranceway sliding slowly upwards. Without hesitation, she drew back the bundle and cast it through the opening.

The world gave way beneath her.

As the forces of Jared Klaithe pounded into the main hall at Rondoval over the bodies of its dark defenders, the lord Det emerged from a side passage, a drawn bow in his hands. He released an arrow which passed through Jared's armor, breastbone and heart, in that order, dropping him in his tracks. Then he cast the bow aside and drew his scepter from his sash. He waved it in a slow circle above his head and the invaders felt an invisible force pushing them back.

One figure moved forward. It was, of course, Mor. His illuminated staff turned like a bright wheel in his hands.

"Your loyalty is misplaced, old man," Det remarked. "This is not your fight."

"It has become so," Mor replied. "You have tipped the Balance."

"Bah! The Balance was tipped thousands of years ago," said the other, "in the proper direction."

Mor shook his head. The staff spun fester and faster before him, and he no longer appeared to be holding it.

"I fear the reaction you may already have provoked," he said, "let alone what might come to pass should you be permitted to continue."

"Then it must be between us two," said Det, slowly lowering the scepter and pointing it.

"It always was, was it not?" said Mor.

The Lord of Rondoval hesitated for the barest moment. Then, "I suppose you are right," he said. "But for this, be it upon your own head!"

The scepter flared and a lance of brilliant red light leaped from it. Old Mor leaned forward as it struck full upon the shield his spinning staff had become. The light was instantly reflected upward to strike against the ceiling.