14h Day of Ready'reat, 565 CY

The Barony of Willip, Furyondy

(About 1 Mile NW of the Brass Dragon Inn)

An explosion of thick, foul-smelling smoke filled Cygnus' view.

Even while choking, the mage instinctively thrust out his right arm, ready to activate his ring of shooting stars before he realized that not only would it have absolutely no effect on this fiend, but that he would be caught in the backlash, as well.

But the devil was gone.

After a tense moment, the party exhaled as one.

"I don't think that thing is going to go gently back into this flask," Cygnus mumbled, fitting the iron jar back into his belt pouch.

"No point worrying about it now," Argo announced with his faux cheerfulness. "To battle, my faithful mount!" he called out to Aslan before slapping the paladin on the butt.

Aslan rose up, rearing just enough to force Bigfellow to throw himself forward and clasp his hands around the neck. With a clear neigh of annoyance, the pegasus flapped his wings and galloped forward, swiftly launching himself into the air.

"You were serious when you told that to Elrohir?"

Aslan twisted his long head around. Even as a pegasus, he managed to give Argo the stink-eye.

"Touchy," Bigfellow responded ruefully, but the big ranger made no further move to annoy his transport. He hadn't realized how much he had come to depend on Gylandir's saddle until he no longer had it beneath him.

Argo looked behind him. Cygnus and Caroline, riding Gylandir and Sequester, were flanking him. He guessed they were about at sixty feet; that was a good cruising altitude for their pegasi, but the snow made it impossible to get a good estimate. He could just make out four dark blurs on the ground that he knew were horses carrying Elrohir, Nesco, Laertes and Zantac. Argo hoped that someone had retained the presence of mind to offer Tojo a lift. Otherwise, it would be a long time before the Yanigasawa samurai joined the battle.

Argo readied his composite bow and notched an arrow, looking for shapes ahead. The first one to emerge out of the snow, off to his right, was large and indistinct- a blotch nearly a hundred feet across that could only be the brigands, fanning out now through the snow, bows undoubtedly out and arrows nocked as well. Argo tried to make his silhouette as small as possible, trusting in Aslan's white coat to conceal them among the falling snowflakes for as long as possible.

Then, to his left, Bigfellow saw the creature that Zantac had called a hamatula. The barbed devil was trudging through the snow towards two figures who sat on horses, apparently awaiting its arrival. Argo could just make out five streaks of light emerge from one of the figures and strike the fiend, but the devil continued advancing remorselessly, not even breaking stride.

There was no sign of Nodyath, but for someone who possessed the same Talents as Aslan; if he was here they would be very lucky to spot him indeed; before he struck.

Now the big ranger saw a horse galloping below, directly ahead. The rider jerked sharply on the reins, halting the animal. Argo could only see it was a big man, perhaps his own size. Not Nodyath, unless he was polymorphed. The man raised a composite bow up at him and fired.

The distance was well over a hundred and fifty feet, but even through the snow the missile sped true and struck the polymorphed paladin in the chest. Aslan jerked and cried out in pain, Argo holding on only with his knees. The wound didn't seem to be a serious one, but Bigfellow couldn't tell from his angle. He was about to start guiding Aslan downward; no point staying aloft with a marksman of that caliber on the ground, but the paladin was already starting to dive.

Aslan flung himself forward again; holding on now with both arms and legs.

Maybe following a battle plan would have been a better idea after all, the ranger thought, before reminding himself that since he would never admit that to Aslan anyway, there wasn't any point in dwelling on it.

The wind screamed past his face as the ground rose up fast.

Aslan came down in a steep, tight circle, intending to land next to the large figure; which he had now identified from Caroline's description as Sbalt, so that Argo could immediately engage him in combat. Just as he came down however, Sbalt suddenly reared his warhorse up, and the animals' left front hoof struck the pegasus squarely on his right cheek. Argo, who had just put away his bow and was preparing to draw Harve, was caught unawares and went flying, landing on his back in fresh snow which did little to cushion the impact. Out of the corner of his eye, the ranger saw Aslan, now human again, whirl around to face Sbalt, who was now resheathing his own bow and drawing a massive great axe from the strap which ran around his back.

A shadow passed overhead. Argo could spare only a glance to see Cygnus launching a fireball from atop Gylandir, before pulling the pegasi to the right and climbing higher. The spell landed directly where the barbed devil's two targets were standing, but the resulting cloud of steam from melting snow prevented Bigfellow from seeing the results, although he heard two screams and the sound of at least one horse dying. A momentary peek at their unwilling ally showed it shaking off drops of what Argo initially thought was water but quickly realized was acid- remnants of a spell cast at it, the ranger guessed. It continued to move inexorably foreword. If it was grateful for the assistance Cygnus had provided it, there was no sign.

Aslan screamed. Sbalt's horse, under the brigand leader's command, was trampling the prone paladin. Argo staggered to his feet and drew Harve when from some point ahead, beyond his vision, a voice cried out, "Leave him! He's mine!"

Not Nodyath's voice. Unknown. Perhaps the poisoned-dagger wielder they called The Runt?

Now the twang of bowstrings and the sounds of arrows filled the air.

"Argo!" yelled Aslan, who had just managed to regain his feet, deflecting a lunging hoof with his shield.

"I've got him!" Bigfellow yelled, moving forward and catching Sbalt's steed with a long gash along its flank. While Argo would not normally bothered attacking his enemy's horse first, the deep snow severely reduced the ranger's mobility, and he wanted to make things equal. But as he brought Harve around again in the second half of his U-shaped stroke, Sbalt suddenly leaned way over in front of his mount, his feet wedged underneath the cinch strap, and intercepted Bigfellow's blow with his axe.

He's good, thought Argo. But then, these are the same people who killed Torlina and Aiclesis. And if we're not careful, us as well.

Almost all of his wounds vanished.

It's good to be a paladin sometimes, Aslan thought, allowing a grim smile to cross his features as he tightened his grip on both sword and shield and slowly advanced on the figure now walking towards him, perhaps sixty feet distance.

The man was even shorter than Aslan; an inch over five feet at best, but his build suggested neither elf nor dwarf. He wore plate mail and carried a longsword and shield.

Fifty feet.

"Not trying to sneak around in the snow, Runt?" Aslan shouted as the distance between the two decreased with agonizing slowness. "There'll be no more of your backstabbing today! How good are you in a fair fight?"

The Runt did not reply.

Forty feet.

Aslan noticed the composite bow slung over the man's shoulder. It was about the same size as Aslan's, who had a good four or five-inch height advantage on this man. That doesn't make any sense, the paladin thought, frowning. He's had months to acquire the perfect weapon for himself. Why would-

Aslan suddenly spun around. He could only see Argo, but he hoped with all his heart that all of his friends would be able to hear him.

"It's him!" he screamed. "It's him! It's not The Runt! It's Nodyath!"

When the paladin turned forward again, he had just enough time to register his exact likeness standing thirty feet away before the psionic blast hit him.

"This time, paladin," Aslan somehow heard his counterpart say, "it's to the death."