A/N: You know, I think this is just about the shortest blank between getting a chapter typed up and getting it ready to post. Maybe 'cause it's a short chapter and I actually wrote it long before I finished Chapter 16. Otherwise, I don't have much to say. Oh, Morgana really curses in this one. Once. And it's not even a bad one. I wonder: is that good or bad? ^^;;;; (sweatdrop!)
Suddenly they stumbled into the clearing.
Morgana knew he would be there, and he knew she would come. Their painfully acute mindlink had told them that. It had also shown them each other's resolution: only one would leave.
She stared at him, her fierce brown eyes meeting his cold, ice blue gaze.
Silas spoke first.
"So it's little miss Freedom and Life, is it?"
"Yes, Silas," she informed him quietly. "Yes, I'm here in the name of Freedom and Life. And you will not leave here alive."
"O-ho, cocky, aren't we? Shame on you, making empty threats."
"Oh, they're not empty." Something in Morgana's voice made Silas's soul cringe. She felt it, accepted it, and went on.
Nefariana moved ever so slightly forward, already transformed and battle-ready. "You are going down," she affirmed. Zephyr nodded her head crisply.
"Now you're outnumbering me? Really, Morgana," Silas spat the name as if it were a particularly nasty sip of potion, "I might have thought you would play fair."
Without turning her head from her enemy, Morgana notified her friends, "This is my battle. If you respect me, please stay out of it."
The two transformed back slowly, their eyes on their friend, but Morgana made no acknowledgment of them.
Silas tried a new taunt. "I can tell, little girl, that even if you defeat me, which is highly unlikely, you won't kill me. You've got too much pity."
"I wouldn't bet on it. You see, Silas, hell hath no fury like a Griffinqueen scorned. Shortly, you'll get a chance to compare the two.
"I challenge you to a one-on-one Animagus duel. To the death."
An Animagus duel... wizard against wizard (or, in this case, witch), no magic, only physical contact and whatever natural weapons your form might have.
"Your folly. And your own obituary." Silas's eyes narrowed in pride and determination.
"I think not. But," she continued, "you will transform first."
Silas laughed in disbelief. "You actually trust me?"
"No," she said perfectly honestly. "But I am familiar with the rules. Would you like to disobey them? They say the defender transforms first.
"Besides, there is nothing against my using magic if you don't play fair. I believe you know I could end this with one spell."
"So could I," he retorted, but he transformed quickly and without excessive complaint.
Morgana reflected as she transformed, something better to do now than in the heat of battle or even after. My whole life comes down to this. My life so far? No. My entire existence.
The griffin and the cobra faced each other, eyes locked in a deadly staring contest. Each sense was beautifully, painfully acute: they could see every movement, hear every heartbeat, smell every nuance. Their muscles stood tensed and ready. Neither moved but both could spring with lightning speed at the slightest provocation.
Sharpclaw said tersely.
"Why me?" appealed Circe.
Tears welled in Circe's eyes, though she knew it was true. She could hardly see as she counted it off, her voice shaking. Why was she going through with this? Why was she letting her best friend risk her life?
Because I don't have the guts to interfere, she thought bitterly.
Don't let her do it! Stop this now! every fiber of her soul screamed. But it was too late. She heard the word coming from her mouth as if from far, far away.
"Now."
The cobra lunged almost immediately, but Sharpclaw was already in the air and wheeling around to reach Silas's unprotected back. He whipped around and hissed as Sharpclaw set back down on the ground. Silas looked quite menacing but the Griffinqueen hardly took notice.
Thus began the duel.
It raged for what seemed, to Uric, like hours, leaning painfully against a tree, powerless to stop Morgana's peril. What made him stare endlessly into the fray, not even he himself could guess.
It was like that for all of them, Stormy especially raging in impotent fury that here was a battle, a battle that concerned her and hers, and she could not fight.
Indeed, it would have been pointless to join in, for Silas and Sharpclaw were moving and darting and lunging so fast that you could not attack one for fear of hitting the other.
Sharpclaw seemed to be living a charmed life, for she had only taken a few small cuts and scratches. None had any of the cobra's poison in them.
Yet Silas was only slightly worse, and still they fought.
Lunge for lunge, move for move... they were equal. Until Sharpclaw fell.
