Author's Note: Ha! Finally over my writer's block! Thank you everyone at TDD who extended their help and support – without you, I'd… well, I'd be in pretty much the same state that prompted that rant. You saved me! *hugs*

At long last, the Final Confrontation Scene… and another cliffie. :D More magical ethics – after all, it's pretty much the theme of the story – but also a good fight scene, which I hope comes together in reading. But my beta said it works, so it must. *nods decidedly* You know, it occurred to me that I've been deviated from Tammy's style a lot… embellishing the actual events with the protagonist's emotional state/reactions, and the prose with more vivid descriptions. Maybe I should regress to Tammy's more simple/direct language – what do you think? Maybe this is better for RP? *musing*

Thanks: Melody, I LOVE you. *hugs* Without you I'd be drifting in space, and you put terra firma under my feet. Yes, he really does need drastic psychological treatment, but that's the whole fun of bad guys. *grin* And such flattery… I'm honored that you compared my own villain *stroking Savagni* to He-Whose-Name-Must-Be-Hyphenated….

Chapter 12

            In the space of a second, her vertigo was replaced by the rush in her blood that rose to the declaration of battle. There was no room for fear; she had first to defeat this arrogant man who gloated over his power -- the same as hers -- and used it to enslave her friends. This monster who didn't care about the very People he was bonded to.

            She lifted her head defiantly. "You're crazy," she informed Savagni. "Just the fact that you're too evil to tell how evil you are proves it."

            He shrugged. "Those of a narrower vision are too limited to understand my motives or potential." A sharp-eyed wolf on his left yawned, displaying formidable rows of teeth punctuated by a pair of curved fangs.

            She leered at him. "Oh, I see. So, you aim to make yourself the grandest wildmage in the land, and make an army of the People to back you up." She scoffed. "If I were you, I surely wouldn't walk around with my nose in the air. You know why? You're no wildmage. You're a monster, just as much as those hurroks of yours – you're just as evil, savage, coldblooded, and greedy. A wildmage is a friend of the People, and a link between them and two-leggers. You just use them for your own foul means. You're just a… a parasite."

            He laughed; she felt as if cords running through her muscles had been pulled taut. She wanted to lunge at him, bow or no. "Girl," he told her, "you would do best to leave such matters to those better qualified to judge. You see, Sarrasri, you apparently cling to the innocent idealism that comes with youth –" he spoke lazily, as though over a glass of wine – "and a most deplorable want of worldly experience. Or rather, a failure to construe it, to come to those conclusions that one must learn from life. What you have yet to deduce, my dear, is that in this world, ultimately, the task of making one's life falls to oneself and oneself only; we can expect little assistance from others. Accordingly, it would do us best to deploy our assets to their fullest extent. Some, however, choose to restrain such abilities, and thus fall short of their true potential, more often than not finding themselves trampled under the hooves of the stampede of ambition. I have chosen to take care to avoid this. True, I have paid my price; but likewise will I reap my rewards.

            "What you also fail to comprehend is the power the gods entrust to wildmages like us. Why would we be granted undisputed ascendancy over animals – that they must submit unequivocally to our word – if it fell to us to repress such authority?" He shook his head as though exasperated at her shortcomings. "We are meant to rule over the… so-called 'People', Sarrasri. It is our place."

            He had probably wanted to scare her, and purposely stirred up the People around him: several of the wildcats were now pacing, not approaching Daine openly, but clearly intent on her. The wolves' bright eyes were fixed on her with a hunter's eagerness she knew well. Her confidence faltered as she felt the escalation of the challenge; what would she do if he set them on her? She hadn't thought it through. Could she fight them? Actually hurt them, to defend herself? The thought made her stomach twist.

            "Look at me," she told Savagni, trying to keep her voice centered. "I don't make slaves of them, though I could." With infinite care, she reached out – slowly – to the People, trying to breach the other wildmage's power wrapped around them. If she could just get through to them…. "You know why? Because they're my friends. Can you even understand that? Have you ever had any, yourself?" She finished with a reckless jibe.

            His condescending manner was unperturbed. "How many of them, do you think," he asked her slowly, "have gotten killed for you?"

            Her temper flared up. What right did this – man have to accuse her? "It was their choice, damn it! It always is. I always give them more'n ample warning – I try to keep them out of danger –"

            "—And they insist on coming to your aid, I'm sure," he drawled. "But just think. Would they be in danger if it weren't for you? Of course not. Like it or not, you pull them into human matters, and into jeopardy. Admit it." He sneered. "Like it or not, you've made yourself their mistress. It's what you are, Wildmage."

            "Liar," she hissed, and in a fury drove through his barriers on the People's minds –

            There was an explosion of power as he struck at her magic with his own, driving her back out. Daine gasped at the jolt, then stared breathlessly into his triumphant face, dark eyes lit with sadistic pleasure, leering at her.

            "My, my," Savagni remarked, voice splintering on the edges in his eagerness. "I see you're endeavoring to claim my charges, hmm? I can't have that, I'm afraid…."

            His power flared like the flick of a whip, giving his People the word. They lunged at her, snarling, powerful muscles coiling and releasing, lips curled back in malice, sharp eyes narrowed. For a split second the betrayal of her friends – those who had helped her and fought for her all her life, those she'd healed and taught and spoken for – drowned out every other thought in her head. It was like a knife in the back, the ground falling away under her feet. She swayed, almost dropping her bow, wanting to cry out – but they were upon her. Desperately she threw out her own magic, grabbing their minds, holding them off her against the other wildmage's orders. They paused a few paces away, steps faltering, clearly dizzied with the shock. She felt their agony at the controversy, twisting their minds between the two commands; for a second she wavered, wanting more than anything to relieve them from her command. But she had to defend herself; Savagni would show no mercy, and have them rip her to shreds if she let them at her. She held her power in place, pressing it on them, to keep them away. The hounds whined in protest, pawing at their heads; one of the wildcats collapsed drunkenly. Her heart clenched painfully. She was hurting them….

            Savagni's voice slithered through the maelstrom in her head. "So you see – Wildmage," he said smoothly. "Proof – you use them to your own advantage, regardless of their consequent sacrifice."

            Burning hatred flushed through Daine. With a snarl somewhat feral itself, she dropped her magic and jumped – Windracer flapped away to perch on a torch holder – dropping her bow and taking shape in the air. Clad now in a raven's coal-black feathers, she flapped away from the assault, rising to the cavern's ceiling. Below her, Savagni strode away from the entrance where he'd been standing, moving out into the center of the cave; his bow was raised and trained on her. She glanced around the torchlit cavern, taking in its dimensions. What shape would be best for defense? She needed agility to evade the wildmage's bow. Swiftly she changed into a starling's form and darted around the cavern, weaving in tight, intricate loops.

            She felt his magic flex again – it was so strange to feel another wildmage's power, as strong as her own! – as he changed shape as well. A russet hawk leapt into the air, coming towards her, eyes cold and talons extended. A startling coolness trickled through her as she calculated her chances. With her antics, she could probably outmaneuver him, but she would eventually tire from the pursuit. Better to take a battle form and confront him in earnest.

            She paused in the air and slid into a raptor shape – an eagle's body for power and weapons, a falcon's wings for speed and agility. Screeching a challenge, she sped at Savagni, talons outstretched.

            At first it seemed he wasn't bothering to defend himself; he simply hung in the air as though waiting. At the last second, she saw his shoulder muscles contract just before he flipped over in the air, twisting out of her line of flight; she sped by him, carried by the force of her attack. Struggling to turn around, she heard the rush of air churned by his wings, and knew he had an attack ready for her. She spun with claws out, and he all but slammed into her, claws raking across her pale-feathered breast. The impact knocked her back, and she twisted over and pushed herself higher as he fell away. She ignored the burning of the wounds he'd just inflicted, banking until she could strike again. After circling tightly, she fell on him from behind, sinking her claws into his back. He screeched in pain and twisted violently, breaking her grip on him and spinning around to face her. The wildmages battered against each other, all but pressed together, raking with claws and beak, each screaming his rage. Feathers flew from the fray; they flapped wildly to maneuver around each other, each trying to gain the upper hand as well as stay aloft, but they were dropping.

            They slammed into the stone floor. Daine broke away and rolled, coming to her feet with all the grace and control of the tiger shape she'd taken. Powerful muscles rippled under thick fur slashed across with black stripes – and, on the chest, with the wound she'd taken earler. Her heavy paws made no sound on the floor; curved yellow claws pushed out of them. Her wide golden eyes, set apart in a broad, whiskered face, surveyed her foe with a serenity that belied the rush inside her.

            He had copied her, and now paced the cavern floor with smooth, calculated movements, watching her sharply. His tail flexed and coiled with his movements; a pulse throbbed in his shaggy white throat. They circled each other for long moments, the tension between them stretched out like a cord pulled taut. The animals in the cave had withdrawn to the walls, and watched the wildmages in combat, sitting at attention.

            Daine snarled, lip curling back over pointed, deadly teeth, a growl issuing from her throat. She reveled in the sheer, graceful power of her tiger form, every movement perfectly balanced, as though calculated, muscles moving in perfect accordance. Her blood rose with the heat of battle, and she bounded towards Savagni with a roar of challenge that filled the cavern.

            He waited, crouched low on his front legs, eyes narrowed. As she rose slightly, stretched forward to grasp his neck in her jaws, he reared on his hind legs, twisting away, and she fell back, snarling. He rose again as though to seize the back of her neck, and she reared briefly, raising one forepaw to fend him off, as she pulled away out of reach. Darting forward again, crouched low, she swung out one paw, claws unsheathed, to swipe him across the face. He roared as the blow knocked his head to the side and left the slashes from her claws across his nose. With a growl, he leapt at Daine in earnest.

            His bulk slammed in to her, knocking her to the ground. Snarling, they rolled over and over, each grappling to sink his jaws into the other's throat, clawing and twisting. Pain exploded on her nose as Savagni struck his paw across it, and she faltered, gasping. In the split-second opening, he gained the upper hand and pinned her to the floor beneath him, paws on her shoulders. She loosed a bone-rattling roar and struggled, trying to claw at him, but he kept his grip on her. He bared his jaws in a snarl, and bent down to clamp them on her throat.

            Her body seemed to evaporate from under him as she shifted in half the space of a heartbeat. A six-foot python, she slid around his neck and pulled her coils tight, squeezing with every ounce of strength in her. His jaws gaped in pain as he wheezed and tried to claw her away, but she contracted herself tighter around his throat and held on.

            As she had, he seemed to suddenly disappear from her grasp; Daine dropped to the floor, hissing. The tiny mouse he had become to escape her scuttled away, then morphed into a hawk that flapped into the air, preparing to fall down on her and strike. She changed again – a wolf shape – and rose on her hind legs to snap at the hawk if he dared come near.

            Suddenly Savagni's voice sounded in her mind. Enough! He sounded enraged, as though she had foiled his plans infuriatingly in resisting this long. I can tell you're quite a cocky one, Sarrasri, he snarled. Not only do you consider yourself wonderfully clever, you think you're too caring and honorable to ever dream of hurting your dear friends, don't you? He paused, but she could feel the hate radiating from him. Well, girl, I don't suppose you've ever had them against you, have you? He dropped lower, circling above her. Let's see if you stay by your lofty resolutions in the end.

            She felt that flick of magic again, as he called in the People in the cave, bearing down on them harder than ever. They rushed in toward her, snarling and barking, maddened by the wildmage's command. With a thrill of horror, she realized that Savagni had cut off her escape from above. Now, the hunters closed in around her, deadly teeth bared.

            Once again Daine could only hold them off desperately with her magic, and again was filled with their pain, being pulled from two sides. Tears burned her eyes. How could that man hurt the People as he did? Was he completely oblivious to their pain? Too cold-hearted to feel it, or to care?

            She could feel his maniacal triumph in her mind. So you see, he gloated, I was right. It just goes to show, Sarrasri – in the end, with no other way, you would sacrifice them to save yourself. You're no different than what you so righteously accuse me of.

            At that moment, she swore to prove him wrong, no matter what the price. In a surge of defiance, she took her will off the People, no longer bothering to resist Savagni's orders to attack her. In a moment they recovered from the pressure and rushed at her. Yowling, a wildcat leaped at her, his weight slamming Daine into the ground. A shaggy, dark grey wolf with tawny eyes lowered his jaws to her throat – but held. Her stomach twisted: for the first time in her life, she was helpless, at the mercy of a wolf who would readily kill her at the command. Desperate, she felt for his mind and those of his companions.

            Stupid girl. Savagni's sadistic tone echoed through all the minds of the People under him, his steely magic amplified through them, filling them. Daine gasped; she lost the wolf shape she'd been in and fell back into her human self, lying helplessly on the rough stone floor. She could feel the wolf's teeth pressing into her throat, smell the overwhelming reek of his breath – the smells of blood and dead meat, the smells of a hunter. And now she was the hunted. Her fists clenched, but she refused to cry out.

            She forced herself to focus her thoughts, and spoke to Savagni. I'm not like you, she told him. Gritting her teeth, she tilted her head back, exposing her throat more openly to the wolf holding her.

            I would never hurt them, she continued, even to save myself. I'll prove it. She remained still, not struggling, resigned to any fate.

            A tall, solid black wolf with moonlike pale grey eyes approached to stand over her. It was him. He bared his teeth in a savage grin.

            No, Sarrasri. He seemed to relish every word. You're not like me. He leaned down, lowering his nose nearly to touch hers, his pearly eyes inches away.

            You're right. I certainly would use them, in every way necessary, to further my own means. And that, my dear, is how it is that I will rise above you. It is as I said: everyone for himself, and one must make full use of every possible advantage. You did not, Wildmage of Tortall.

            And so you are paying the price.

            She felt a sharp prick on her ankle, where she'd least expected it, and a slender, scaled form slid over her shin. Her leg twitched involuntarily; she drew a sharp breath and turned her head to the side, squirming as much as her captor allowed. The wildmage's laughter rolled around her head, and she looked back into his pale hunter's eyes, now shining with maniacal triumph. And then she understood, with a start, as darkness clouded over her vision, that he had won.