Change

I watched as he stalked to the center of the arena, having just refused my offer to take his place. He would not escape this fight unscathed, as he had so many others in the brief time that I had known him.

After all, this was not a fight like all of the others. Then, in his own words, he had fought and killed because it was life or death for him. In those fights, his enemies had been simply obstacles, nothing more.

This time was different. This was personal. The Luskan brute he faced was more than that. He was Lorne Starling, elder brother of one of his best friends, someone from his past, another harborman. Even if he survived unscarred by Lorne's blade, he would never be quite the same mentally.

And for that, as he took his vows before Lord Nasher, I mourned.

He had never been easy to get close to, yet I knew that underneath the battle hardened exterior lay a young man, at times confused about the path which his feet now tread. Somehow, he had preserved a small shard of his innocence inside him, not unlike the fragment of a blade lodged in his chest.

Despite all he had done and seen, walking through the orc caves in the mountains, slaughtering all before him, or descending beneath a ruined castle overlooking Highcliff to face endless hordes of undead, some small part of him remained the same as the boy who by his own confession had disappeared for hours into the Mere because he could.

I heard the crowd rumble, and knew that the duel had started.

His arm came up in one smooth motion, and an arrow blurred from the string to impact in Lorne's chest, his aim as perfect as ever.

Again and again he fired, showing no fear as the frenzied berserker charged, closing the gap between them.

Then Lorne was upon him, swinging his massive blade with two hands, each enough to cut the fragile looking elf in front of him in half.

And yet, not a single blow landed, as the man who had saved me danced away from each strike, the stream of arrows never stopping.

When Lorne began to falter, he smiled grimly and lifted his hand. With a short phrase, he brought forth an ice storm, the huge chunks if frozen water impacting with enough force to shatter bones.

Yet Lorne shrugged it off.

And so the fight continued, my leaders quiver empty as he instead used the magic that he had studied long to acquire against his enemy. Fireball and other powerful spell of destruction crossed the arena between the two men, and Lorne stumbled, injured, even as my friend sagged against the wall, exhausted from the cost of magic.

But Lorne would not stop. He came forward still, until he brought his sword across in one devastating strike that cleaved through half of my mentor's gut before jamming into the stone wall.

Lorne leaned forward, and his lips moved as he spoke some parting phrase to the dying elf.

Who grimaced on return and whispered something in his weakens voice before slumping over unconscious.

Lorne laughed and withdrew his sword when he noticed the small ball of green fly from his enemy. I felt helpless, knowing that whatever his final trick had been, my master was doomed.

Then Lorne glanced down in shock as an evanescent cloud of green surrounded him, and gasped and fell over dead.

I should have seen it coming. There was only one spell that could have done that. His favorite. Melf's Acid Arrow. Fitting, considering the seamless way he blended archery and magic.

I glanced down at the rapidly paling face of the elf, and he was smiling, even as healers rushed to save him and Nasher pronounced him innocent while he lay there in an puddle of his own blood.

He had won, he had lost. It did not matter. He had changed, but now, perhaps, for the better.

----
A/n: This came to me as I was listening to a depressing album, Bloodflowers, by The Cure, and I couldn't resist writing it.

We all know that Shandra had spent the night before the Trial by Combat crying, (Thanks, Grobnar!) and I wondered why.

Anyways, for those of you who are curious, the (soon to be) KC was based of of a character of mine, a level 7 wizard, level 3 ranger (archery), with the Arcane Archer prestige class. He was a Sun Elf. Also, I'd tell you what level AA he was, but that particular file hasn't gotten quite that far yet.

--PT246