The troll next in line flails wildly with his club from a sitting position. Then the rest between me and it are on their feet and I can’t really see what’s happening, just a blur of iron clubs rising and falling. I can hear all right, though. Trolls do not scream, for they do not feel pain as us dwarves do—their death cries are a mournful gurgling, not born from agony but resignation to their fate.

This sound is still loud, and echoes in the corridor.

“What is it!” Hayhek screams out. “Zathar, did you see it?”

“Salamander!” I yell.

Hayhek screams louder, but to his credit stands beside me in the corridor with his twisted iron club held ready above his head.

“Salamander?” Dwatrall asks, his voice filled with fear. “A big one?”

It’s onto the last of the five rear guards now. This troll is wide awake, not so unready as the prior four. It strides forward laying down blows at the salamander’s massive head—I’d forgotten just how huge these beasts were: its jaws could fit me in whole.

One blow connects. The salamander flinches back slightly. It bats away the next blow with its right paw; slashes out with its left. The troll is ready for it and blocks with its forearm. Blood sprays downward, bringing up droplets from the water, but the troll doesn’t care. It rushes forward, clawing at the salamander’s nose and simultaneously clubbing upward at its lower jaw.

Before either blow connects the salamander opens its mouth and blasts out the worst nightmare of the river trolls: fire.

For the first time I hear a troll in pain: its scream pierces my very soul and makes me nauseous. It contains all the sadness of the death-moans, but that’s just one note nearly lost in the orchestra of the agony of feeling skin and flesh crisp away.

The heat of the blast sends Hayhek and I stumbling back into Dwatrall, who cries out in terror. The tunnel fills with steam. All that is visible before me is the tip of Heartseeker and the redly glowing form of the abyssal salamander. All else is roiling gray.

“Get behind me!” I shout. “I’ve got the longer weapon. I’ll hold it back!”

“Flee!” Dwatrall shouts. “Flee!”

Fleeing is not an option. Turning my back on this thing is death. Facing it is probably death too, but probably is better than certain.

I curse myself for wishing for a greater challenge.

The abyssal salamander opens its mouth and fire glows at the back of its throat. Heartseeker darts out and stabs solidly through its nose. The salamander yelps and backs away a step. The fire in its mouth sputters and is swallowed back.

Stab, stab, stab! I unleash a flurry. I must keep the salamander backing away, on the defensive. A single blast of fire will cook me in my armor like a ham in foil. The beast is agile, though. Two of my stabs connect, bringing forth hot spurts of blood, but it’s out of range for the next.

I pull Heartseeker back. I mustn’t overextend—I’ve learned that lesson too many times now. The salamander snaps at me and I ready for its next move. It opens its mouth wide, twice as wide as before, and white glows in its throat.

“Get back!” Hayhek yells from behind me.

I don’t need to be told. I scramble backward but a length of troll-gut catches around my ankle and I sprawl.

This turns out to be luck. The body of the fallen troll protects me from the main force of the fire. Even so, the heat scorches as it billows above me. I feel the skin around my mouth flash-burn to peeling red in vertical stripes where my breathing slits are.

I roll back to my feet, Heartseeker out at high guard. Smoke is drifting from the salamander’s mouth, darker whorls in the white-blue steam. A rock whistles through the air behind me and over my shoulder, tearing the steam, then a couple more. Dwatrall must have rallied the five survivors of our escort, yet their counterattack does little good. The stones bounce off the monster’s snout and heavily muscled front legs.

It opens its mouth wide again, yet the white fire growing inside is a little dimmer, gaining strength slightly slower. I remember how the one in the arena used up its flames and couldn’t scorch me. This is a chance. I sprint toward the salamander, dive under its bolt of flame. The heat is still brutal, but the water I roll through cools me. Using the momentum of my roll I drive Heartseeker up with all my strength.

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It cuts a neat hole in the monster’s throat. The salamander hurries back, hissing—unable to roar—in pain. I slash downward and cut its lips deeply. I nearly rush on for another stab, but caution myself at the last moment. A swipe comes down through the air right before me: if I had been in its path my un-runed steel would not have resisted it.

We back away from each other and the duel comes to a natural lull. We stand against each other, tense, prepared. The blood dripping off its face sizzles and spatters when it contacts the water. The heat from its fire-breath has crisped and killed the blue slime on the walls so the only light is that which its skin provides: a dull crimson glow like that of iron just quenched.

Beast it may be, but I sense a cruelly cunning mind behind those black eyes. Like any expert duelist, it’s weighing me up, comparing us. I’m doing the same.

Certainly I’ve inflicted more damage on it than it has on me. Yet it’s twenty times my size, can take twenty times the damage I ever could, probably more, even taking into account my thick steel cladding. In terms of stamina, I have the upper hand. The glow in its mouth is all but spent. Its raw power outweighs that advantage though. My most devastating blow can wound it deep, but just a casual swipe from it would rend my armor apart.

I send a light jab at its eye to test its reflexes. They’re just as fast as ever; it swats down Heartseeker and stabs at me with its claws outstretched. I dodge to the side but its smallest claw still scrapes across my armor. Sparks flash. In retaliation I draw-cut its wrist. The salamander snatches its paw back and holds it up off the ground and to its hurt neck. Blood begins to spray out.

Heartseeker has enough runic magic left in it to know the right angle to slice veins, and the blood spraying out keeps on spraying. Further steam rises up from where it’s hitting the water. The salamander rears up as high as it can; its arched horned back touches the tunnel roof. It slams down its right paw with terrifying speed. More speed than I’m prepared for. With no time to dodge, I have to block with Heartseeker.

The huge paw impacts and drives me to my knees. I managed to get in close so the scaled palm hits the haft rather than the claws; Heartseeker is not sliced neatly into segments but merely bent into the shape of an exotic surface fruit.

The salamander lunges forward and down, snapping its razored jaws. I dodge back just quick enough to avoid losing my head. Another rock flies past me from behind and smashes its nose, stalling its follow-up.

Again the fight comes to a lull as we weigh our next moves.

Heartseeker is in a terrible state. The spiraling runes on its haft are dull, power completely gone. The anti-glow of its blade is nearly dead. The salamander narrows its eyes. It thinks it has this, yet I have hope. The blood flowing out its wrist, still held up to its throat, is a steaming torrent. Its mouth hangs open as it pants, and there’s no fire in it. My inflicted wounds are nasty ones.

Time to press the attack before it does. I jab at one eye then the other in quick succession. Heartseeker feels heavy, and it does not home in through its own power—it’s an ordinary spear now, and a bent one at that. But it does the job. The salamander flinches away. Weak yellow flickers from behind its teeth. Unbalanced on only three limbs it stumbles and slips in the water.

I stab again, and Heartseeker sinks into its forearm. It rears up on its hind legs and backs away. Fear is bright in its beastial eyes. It opens its mouth: for an instant I think it wants to rasp in pain.

Its black eyes flash. White fire comes rushing from its throat.

Ah.

That’s why it was holding its injured arm up there—to keep the heat from leaking out. And the fire-fatigue it showed—all a bluff.

I cry out in terror and cross my arms in front of my eyes and mouth. Just before my vision is totally obscured, I see blue spheres, a star shining in the heart of each, fly over my head and into the path of the flames.

A series of massive bangs, the loudest sounds I have ever heard, smash my hearing like hammers and a wave of compounded force throws me backward bodily. I feel my feet leave the ground, and it takes a long few seconds for me to come in contact with it once more, on my back. The breath is driven from me. I drag air back in but it comes burning hot.

I yell out in pain—the entire front of me feels like fire. I open my eyes and the steel of the inside of my helmet is a dull red. I roll onto my front to cool it in the water, which is now mostly mud that dries instantly. Choking dust fills my lungs. I blunder upward, blind and barely able to breath.

The glowing crimson form of the salamander looms through my teary and blurred vision. The skin of its face has been torn apart. Shards of jagged cyan are piercing right into the bones of its skull, yet it’s alive, and angry. It swipes. I block, but the force sends me crashing backward into Hayhek, who’s finally decided to charge. We both fall down.

The salamander rushes—only two steps, then it collapses.

Weakly it tries to push itself up with its less-injured right leg, falls back down. The blood loss from its wrist is too much. A steaming red lake spreads forward and laps at my heels.

I stagger back to my feet. Its eyes roll up to look at me.

I grip Heartseeker in both hands up near the blade and drive down with maximum force into its brain.

Its eyes dull. A rush of exhilaration rises in my heart and I try to yell out in victory, but my scorched windpipe won’t let me, and I cough and choke in agony instead, let go of Heartseeker, and fall to one knee.