Jay turned just in time to see a dark, shadowy figure run and leap over the battlements. Jay raced to the edge and peered over, hoping to see some evidence of his friend's attacker, but there was none. He had disappeared into the darkness. 

Cursing, Jay ran back to the edge of the battlements' platform and peered over, his heart pounded nervously. What he saw made his stomach clench.

Percival's limp form was lying face-down in the courtyard, his dead, unblinking eyes staring into nothing.

"Percival?" Zia said the name, but her throat was dry and it came out hoarse.

Heath nodded gravely. "Jay saw the entire thing; he was with him."

They were in her room prison, Zia once more safely in bed. Her leg was throbbing painfully, but she tried to keep her face clear of any sign of pain. This task was made easier by the surprise news of Percival's murder and treachery.

"But who did it?" Zia demanded. "Who would do such a thing?"

"I have one theory." Jay was standing in the doorway, his face sullen and his eyes red. He was pale and his usual handsome features were etched with sadness and hurt. "Archibald," he said spitefully as he joined Heath on the foot of Zia's bed.

"Archibald?" Zia repeated.

Jay nodded, a look of hatred and anger in his eyes. He recounted the story to them, Percival's wife, his betrayal. Heath and Zia soaked in every word.

"The King refused to help Percival's wife?" Zia asked quietly in disbelief.

Jay nodded. "Don't judge the King too harshly. You don't know what it was like back then, Zia. People sought an audience with the King all the time to petition him for the use of his healer. At first he agreed and sent the physician to treat every ailment that came to his people. But then they started to ask for the royal court physician to help cure a violent case of the hiccups. The war threatening at the time, and King Donathan decided that his generosity to his people was being abused, and he started to turn down all those who came to him seeking the help of his physician- no exceptions."

Zia nodded. She could understand not wanted to waste precious resources on things they did not have to be wasted on. But she couldn't help but think of poor Percival's wife.

"And you say Percival struck a deal with Daxtor to dethrone the King?" Heath asked.

Jay nodded in confirmation.

"And he was killed just as you were saying that him and Archibald meant jeopardized our quest in the Pass?"

"Have you seen Archibald since then?" Heath asked, and Jay shook his head.

"I've looked all over the castle and the courtyard," he said. "He is nowhere to be found."

"This is all my fault," Zia said quietly. "I was speaking to him when you left with Percival, and then he excused himself and followed you. I didn't think anything of it. I could have prevented this."

"It's not your fault," Heath said firmly. "You didn't know what he was going to do or what he had already done."

Zia knew he was right, but she still couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt.

"At least we're now aware that we had spies among us," Heath said, changing the subject back to Percival and Archibald.

"Yes," Jay agreed sadly. "But there's no telling how much information Daxtor now has about us."

"Well," said Zia, "anything he does know won't be of much use to him now. Neither Percival nor Archibald were here while we were discussing our battle plans, so they'll have to guess at ours just as much as we'll have to guess at theirs."

"But Archibald knows the castle," Jay pointed out. "He knows its weaknesses and its secret places. And many servants can attest to seeing him wander the castle alone when he wasn't on duty, so who knows what the extent of his knowledge of the castle is?"

"You should warn the Guards," Heath advised. "They should be on high alert."

"I already have," Jay assured him. "The King has been informed as well, and I've convinced him to join the Queen when the morning battle comes, for his own protection."

"How did you manage that?" Zia wondered.

Jay looked away from her when he mumbled, "I may have told him that Percival had sold Daxtor information about the Queen and that her life was in danger."

Heath choked. "You told him Daxtor was after his wife?"

"It was the only way I could think of to get him out of danger," Jay said defensively. 

Heath gave a bark of laughter. "I have to admit, Jay, I thought you were just a stuck-up, always-follow-the-rules kind of fellow, but you're a real rebel at heart, aren't you?"

Jay did not smile at the joke, but stared uncomprehendingly at the open window, as if he were trying to see Archibald through the darkness.

"Where do you suppose he is now?" Zia asked.

Jay shrugged his shoulders. "If I had to guess, I'd say he's with the Skilaen army, helping plan the morning attack."

Jay was right. That's exactly were Archibald was.

Archibald paced back and forth in the General's tent, waiting for Daxtor to see him. The moment that he had arrived at the camp base, Archibald had been escorted to the bright yellow tent that he was in now and had been instructed to wait for the General.

Archibald looked around the tent as he waited. There was a long, mahogany table that had meat, cheese, and fruits set out waiting to be eaten on one side, and on the other was a long, detailed map of the capital and surrounding areas.

Archibald had just leaned over the table to examine the map more closely just when the tent flap flew open and Daxtor entered.

"You're here, then." Daxtor said gruffly. He'd had quite a lot to drink tonight, and he was in a wretchedly bad mood. He had not foreseen the sudden appearance of the women, nor of the Thieves. The Otarians had managed to evade him and protect their castle, and he was not the cheeriest of fellows at the moment.

"Aye, sir," Archibald replied, standing stiffly and nervously.

Daxtor saw this sudden stiff posture and rolled his eyes. Scullish, he thought. Such cowards.

"I trust that your retreat was pleasant?" Daxtor said, dragging himself from his snarky thoughts.

"You could have told your army to pull back a little. We nearly ran ourselves to the ground trying to outrun them."

Daxtor smiled an evil crocodile smile. "Ah, but we must keep up appearances, mustn't we? Where is your tall, grumpy friend, then? Is he keeping those Otarian idiots off your scent?" Daxtor asked, noting the absence of his other spy.

"He's dead," Archibald said without a tremor in his voice. "He had a change o' heart and was abou' to reveal his true loyalties to th' Cap'n and I did wha' had to be done."

Daxtor raised his eyebrows, impressed. He had always thought the Scullish man a bit odd and not a man of much nerve, so the story of his murderous action surprised him.

"Very well," Daxtor said, as the life of one person were not enough to concern him. He sat down at the table by the heaping food. He started to dish meat and bread onto his plate, and poured a large portion of red wine into a bronze goblet, from which he drank deeply. "I suppose the job can be done with one Guard just as well as two," he said when he emerged from behind the cup and refilled it. "Are you ready, then?"

Archibald nodded.

"Good," the General said. "I don't want anything happening to my daughter."

Archibald looked confused. "I though' th' plan was to kill your-"

"My real daughter, you dolt!" Daxtor roared, slamming the goblet down on the table and spilling wine everywhere.

 Archibald jumped back at the sudden outburst. "R-righ' o' course, sir, forgive me," he stammered. 

Daxtor rolled his eyes again. The stupidity of other people would never cease to amaze- or annoy- him.

"You're certain you know the way in?" Daxtor asked, deciding not to comment on his spy's stupidity. 

Archibald nodded. "Aye, tha' I do. Th' tricky bit will be findin' th' lass."

"My army will provide enough of a distraction. You'll have plenty of time to scour the castle top to bottom to search for her," Daxtor said, waving Archibald's concern away.

"Very good, sir," the Scullish man said. "When do we attack?"

A cold, dark, evil smile spread over Daxtor's face and sent chills running down Archibald's spine. "Immediately."

"Jay!" Ike burst into the room, breathing hard and paler than a sheet.

Jay was on his feet instantly. "What is it?"

"Skilaens... They- they're-"

"Spit it out!" Jay snapped.

"We're under attack!" Ike finally sputtered. "The enemy, they've launched an attack on the citadel!"

"WHAT?" Jay, Heath, and Zia all shouted as one.

"That's not all," Ike said solemnly. He looked Jay right in the eye as he said, "They've got catapults."

All the color drained from Jay's face. Faster than Zia could blink he was running out the door, shouting orders and giving commands to organize a retaliation force. Ike quickly followed him, offering any help he could give.

"I'd better go," Heath said, standing.

"Be careful," Zia warned him. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Me too," he admitted. Then he gave Zia a confident smile. "I'm sure it's just Daxtor making a drunken order to attack."

"Maybe," Zia said, but something in her gut told her that it was something much more sinister. 

Jay poked his head in through the door. "Heath! We need archers!"

Heath nodded and followed Jay out the door, though, once again, he did not close it completely.

"And shut that door!" Jay's voice shouted from down the corridor.

Zia heard Heath sigh and reluctantly pulled the door closed. 

"Are you sure this is safe?" Elaina said for the fifth time.

Archibald looked like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes and sigh. "Once again, Miss Elaina, I'm perfectly sure tha' this is absolutely safe."

Elaina looked skeptically up the tall, towering wall of the citadel. It looked perfectly smooth to her, and she could make out no hand or footholds.

Seeing the look on her face, Archibald told her, "When this wall was built, th' Otarians purposely placed some stones to ju' ou' o' th' wall. Though it's cleverly disguised, you'll be able to see them once you ge' to them, even in th' dark."

Elaina looked a slightly more assured, but still skeptical. 

This is for Ike, she reminded herself. Papa assigned this man to accompany me because he knows the castle. I'll be perfectly safe.

Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and asked Archibald, "Where's the first handhold?"

Archibald grabbed Elaina's hand and guided it to the first stone. Elaina could feel the stone block jutting out, but she could not see it from the ground.

"Th' next one is abou' a foot above it," Archibald told her. "Ye won't be able to reach it, since yer so small, but I'll give ye a boost." He placed his hands on Elaina's waist and thrust her upwards until her hand caught hold of the next stone.

"I've got it!" Elaina cried once she had clung onto the wall like a spider. Her feet were dangling, and her arms were quickly growing tired from the extra weight of her armor.

"Stand on my shoulders until ye reach the nex' handholds," he told her as he placed his broad shoulders under her feet, holding on to her ankles to give her extra balance.

Elaina reached up through the darkness and felt for the next jutted stone. Once she had a hold of it, she reached with her other hand. Once she had both hands securely on the wall, Archibald helped guide her feet to the stones that her hands had previously been on, and she began to climb. 

It was slow going and Elaina's arms burned like fire, but she just kept repeating the same thing to herself over and over- This is for Ike... This is for Ike... This is for Ike... This is for Ike...

Every now and then Elaina would stop to rest, giving her aching arms a break from stretching out into the darkness for the next hold. Every time she did this, Archibald reminded her of the importance of their mission and she kept going. 

When Elaina reached the top, she peeked over the battlements to make sure the coast was clear. She had climbed from the side of the citadel, so the only people around were a few hundred meters away, firing burning arrows at the Skilaen army below. 

She scrambled over the battlements, huffing and puffing, trying to catch her breath. It wasn't long before Archibald hauled himself over.

"We need to ge' ou' o' here," Archibald panted. He pointed to a large door a few feet away. "This way."

Eliana followed Archibald's lead as he raced down the stairs. He paused only to check that the coast was clear at the bottom before racing across the corridor into the nearest empty room, Elaina on his heals. 

"We're in," Elaina whispered. "Now to find Zia and finish this."

"Put it out!" Ike yelled as he rushed to the burning flag. The Skilaens had launched a large, burning tumbleweed-like plant at the castle, but had overshot and set fire to one of the large flags that was set on the top of one of the towers. 

Several men scrambled over to the tower, but struggled in getting the flag off its elevated pole to put it out.

Ike had an idea, and he borrowed a battle axe from the belt of a nearby soldier and ran towards the tower, with the angry shouts of the soldier behind him.

Ike climbed up onto the battlements and leapt onto the sloping roof of the tower. He charged toward the burning flag, battle axe raised. One of the men struggling with the flag saw him approach and called out a warning to the others. They all managed to move out of the way just in time as the axe slammed into the thick, wooden shaft of the flagpole. Splinters flew in every direction as Ike slammed the axe into the pole, two, three more times until finally he shouted, "TIMBER!" and the burning flag fell down into the courtyard, where it was instantly pelted with buckets of water from the waiting hands of the woman below.

"Quick thinking, that," an older man told him.

A gruff grunt behind Ike cut off his reply, and he turned around to find the soldier he had taken the battle axe from. The man was much bigger up close, and he was not happy.

"That belongs to me, I think you'll find," he said in a deadly calm voice.

"Ah, yes," Ike said, gulping. He handed the large man back his axe.

"This isn't a hatchet, boy," the man spat. "You'd do well to remember that."

Ike could only watch as the man stomped away. He stood there for a moment in shock until a loud call of "Fire in the courtyard!" broke him out of his daze.

Ike found the nearest staircase leading down to the courtyard below and took the spiral steps two at a time. When he reached the bottom he saw that the horse stables had been set ablaze by another dry, fiery tumbleweed. Horses were whinnying loudly, and rearing up in fear at the sudden flames. Stable hands were trying desperately to tug on the horses' reins and guide them away from the fire, while the women threw bucket after bucket of water on the burning thatch.

Ike grabbed a nearby bucket and joined the women. They had made an assembly line from the well in the courtyard center to the stables, pacing buckets from hand to hand. With this efficient system, it was only a matter of minutes before the flames were suffocated in the water, disappearing with a hiss! 

"Heath!" Ike called up to the row of archers on the battlements. "Do you think you could take out of few of those catapults?"

"What do you think I've been trying to do for the last hour?" came the reply. "Get a stubborn bogie out of my nose?"

Ike snorted, despite the serious situation.

"We've got things covered here," Heath called down after the archers let fly a volley of arrows. "You go inside and check on Zia."

"Are you saying I'm not needed?" Ike shouted back teasingly.

"I just have a feeling. Go."

"Alright." Ike wasn't sure why Heath was so worried. Zia was locked up nice and safe in the castle, far from the actual danger. But he did what his friend asked and ran into the castle.

Elaina and Archibald stealthily made their way through the castle, ducking into drawing rooms and spare chambers whenever they heard someone coming their way. They checked every door they passed with caution, putting an ear to the door to make sure the room was empty before entering. Elaina's nerves were so taut that every gust of wind sounded like someone breathing down her neck. Every creak of the walls felt like an earthquake. 

"Someone's coming!" Archibald suddenly warned her.

Elaina's heart leapt up into her throat as she quickly dashed into the nearest room right behind him. She left the door slightly open because she was afraid that the sound would attract the attention of whoever was passing by.

Elaina heard footsteps coming around the corner and she couldn't stop herself from peering through the crack in the door to watch the person pass. But when she looked she saw a face that made her heart leap and her stomach clench at the same time. Unable to suppress the urge to see him better, Elaina threw the door open, despite Archibald fiercely warning her against it, and shouted, "Ike!"

Ike stopped short at hearing his name and looked around. When his eyes fell on Elaina all the color drained from his face and he stared at her expressionless.

Elaina was so relieved to see him alive and well that she rushed forward to embrace him. But as she drew near Ike took a defensive step back, drew the knives from their scabbard at his hip, and held one in her direction menacingly, the other in a seemingly casual position, but she knew from her hours of practicing with the very man in front of her that this was misleading. Ike could throw a knife underhand just as easily as over.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you," Ike growled, his face still withholding any expression.

Elaina took a surprised step back. She had never heard such anger in Ike's voice. He always so happy and full of playful light. What had happened?

Zia. Zia had made Ike's will her own. She tried to remember that as she stammered, "B-because we're friends."

Ike laughed without humor. "Friends don't sell each other to their evil fathers."

"Papa's not evil!" Elaina protested. "He's trying to help Skilae rise to our former glory. He's trying to help-"

"Himself get power," Ike finished for her. 

Elaina was so shocked she did not know what to say. She heard Archibald enter the corridor behind her, and Ike raised his other knife to point at him.

"So, you are not only the daughter of an evil, lying drunk, but you're also in alliance with a murderer," Ike scoffed. 

"Murderer?" Archibald repeated quietly. "Is not yer King a murderer? Has he no' sent thousands of men, women, and children to their graves because he decided tha' they were beneath his assistance? Ye yerself are a Thief. Ye rebel against the King and his overpriced taxes."

"I don't kill people in cold blood!" Ike roared. His face, which had remained devoid of any emotion, contorted in hot, unchecked fury.

The sudden outburst sent Elaina shuffling backward, frightened. "Ike," she pleaded. "Please-"

"And you!" Ike rounded on Elaina, anger glowing in his eyes. "You're just as bad as him."

"Ike, please, you wouldn't be saying any of this if her power didn't have such a great hold on you." Elaina pleaded for him to understand, for him to realize that Zia was using him to get her own gain.

For a moment Ike lowered his knife slightly, a look of confusion on his face. "Whose power?"

"Zia's," she replied. "She's using you-"

Ike's weapon shot back up to its threatening position. "Don't. You. Say. Anything. Against. My. Sister." And then he attacked.

Elaina was so off her guard that she had barely reached down to draw her bronze dagger out of its sheath when Ike brought down his knife aimed at her heart.

Elaina's life was saved by Archibald, who after years of honing his skills was a master swordsman, and had drawn his weapon and blocked Ike's in less time than it took for Elaina realize that she really was in danger. 

"Go!" Archibald called to her. "Find the Golden-Eyed One and finish this!"

Elaina nodded and backed away slowly, watching in horror as Ike engaged with Archibald in deadly combat.

Unable to watch the horrific scene before her any longer, Elaina turned on her heel and began to run. Just as she was about to turn the corner, she suddenly felt an excruciating pain in her side. She cried out. Elaina turned just in time to see a long, thin throwing knife whiz past her and clatter into the wall before falling to the ground with a loud clang.

Elaina grabbed her side and when she drew her hand back it was covered in blood. She looked back at Archibald and Ike, fighting like wolves. Ike was fighting with only one knife.

She looked back and forth between Ike and the knife he had thrown, which had fallen a few feet away from her, dark crimson blood on the blade.

He... He tried to kill me.

Elaina ducked around the corner and leaned up against the wall. Tears sprang to her eyes, though whether from the pain or from heartache she didn't know.

"You'll understand, Ike," she whispered. "Once I kill her, you'll understand."

Zia could hear the shouting and raised voices of the fighting outside through her window. Her leg was rather painful now, and she was starting to regret straining it so much. She wondered bitterly how long it would take for her leg to heal completely. Then she remembered what Link had said about it never healing entirely and she felt like she had swallowed a rock. Link had said that long before she had left to break the women out of the dungeon or fought in the battle. Could her actions have sealed her fate to never walk properly again? The thought make her feel sick.

But what really made Zia nervous was not knowing what was going on outside. Since Heath had completely closed her door, she could not get out. Her only choice of escape now would be the window, and her leg was far too sore to handle the strain it would take to scurry down the castle wall. That is, if she could even find suitable hand and footholds to climb down.

At least Link had been too busy tending to the wounded to give her any more sedatives. She did not like the feeling of not being in control of her own mind. What was even more unnerving was that people like Daxtor chose to live like that- fulltime.

Zia's head whipped around to the door when a loud shout followed by a series of clangs came from somewhere beyond it. It was somewhat soft because it was further away, and it was hard to hear over the cold wind and the battle raging outside, but Zia could have sworn she heard Ike's voice among the shouting.

Fear gripped her heart. Had the Skilaens somehow managed to get within the castle? Had they infiltrated the citadel? And what of her friends? Were they alive? Were they wounded? Were they still fighting, or were they trying to find the best route to take to seek refuge in Mithia? Not knowing the answers to these questions made Zia almost as mad as Daxtor made her.

The shouting and sounds of struggle seemed to grow louder and closer, bringing a sense of foreboding with it.

"They're loading rocks!" Arch's voice shouted through the darkness. Heath peered over at the nearest catapult and felt his heart clench in fear. Arch was right. The Skilaens were loading large boulders that required three men to load each one into the catapults and were preparing to launch them.

Heath had already exhausted a fair number of arrows trying to take out the ones manning the catapults, but for each one he took out three more were ready to step in and take over. He had shot over three dozen arrows into the inky night, but even though each found its target, it didn't feel like enough. The numbers of the enemy seemed endless, even if they had taken care of a large part of them during the battle earlier today. As near as Heath could tell, there were only about six hundred enemies left, and with the Otarians' addition of women and Thieves to their ranks, that drew the numbers pretty evenly.

But even with the extra hands, most of the weaponry that Arch had brought from the Thieves' hideout was close-range, and with the battle now occurring mainly between the Skilaen catapults and the Otarian archers, the fight seemed to be going nowhere.

Except for now. The Skilaen army had five catapults that were constantly setting fire to things, but now they were being loaded with large rocks that would surely do more damage than a few burning tumbleweeds.

"Aim for that one there," a familiar voice suggested to Heath. He turned to find the smiling face of Ed. He was pointing toward a rather large man who cast a long shadow on the dead grass of the field.

Heath nocked on arrow, sighted his target, and released in a matter of seconds. Moments later the large man fell to the ground.

"Good to see you, Ed," Heath said, lowering his bow. "I'm glad to know you made it back safely."

Ed laughed. "'Safely' is not the word I would use, but I am in one piece, I suppose."

"I think that's the most any of us can ask for right now," Heath said as he shot another arrow. Next to him Ed threw a dart from his atlatl.

"Well would you look at that," Ed said quietly.

Heath turned to where the man was pointing and saw the enemy readjusting their catapults, pushing them further away from the citadel. At first the men who saw this cheered, thinking that their enemy was retreating, but Heath knew better. Until now, their catapults had been aimed to land within the citadel courtyard. If they were moving back, that meant that they had picked out a new target, one that was closer or lower than over the walls.

Heath scanned the area, searching for potential spots that their enemy might be targeting. The answer hit him just as the first catapults swung forward and a large boulder came hurtling toward the portcullis.

An ear-shattering CLANG! rang over the shouting as the rock pounded against the gates, shaking the walls and making Heath's legs quiver.

Another catapult launched its boulder that slammed into the portcullis with similar effects. There was a gap in projectiles, and, it was hard to tell with only the light of the fires set by their enemies and the torches mounted on the walls, but Heath could have sworn that the gate looked bent.

The other three catapults fired in rapid succession, hitting the portcullis and bending the bars badly.

"They're reloading!" a voice warned, and he was right. The Skilaens were certainly doing just that.

The Otarian army was powerless to stop their enemies as they fired more boulders at the gates. The archers hitting their marks had just as much effect on the proceedings as a fly trying to push a boulder up a hill. As the first catapult was fired with its third round of boulders, Jay called out, "Brace yourselves!"

The boulder hit the gate and bent it at such an angle that it was practically useless: It was wide enough for four men to walk through abreast. The enemy was going to enter the citadel.

"Get ready, men!" Jay shouted. The archers on the battlements exhausted their supply of arrows taking down as many of the approaching enemy as they could, but the army still marched toward the now useless gate. Nothing would stop them.

"Women!" Jay called to their fire brigade. "I want you to get any weapons you can and act as our safety net inside the castle if they get past us. Go to the Grand Hall- that's the first place they'll go if they break through our defenses."

One of the women nodded, called to her fellow refugees, and led the way into the safety of the castle.

In the courtyard, Jay, Arch, and all the other close-range fighters stood battle-ready, swords drawn and spears positioned, anxiously waiting.

They didn't have to wait long. The army pressed through the broken portcullis four by four, the courtyard becoming more and more crowded with each wave of soldiers.

For a moment, the two armies just stared at each other in silence, sizing one another up, until Jay's voice rang out in the stillness. "ATTACK!"

The Otarian army surged forward, shouting a brave battlecry as they rushed toward their enemy.

The fighting began, and what a great and terrible battle it was. Though the courtyard was lit with torches, it was still difficult to see clearly, and the threat that they might kill one of their own constantly loomed over them like a ghost. Even the archers watching the battle take place from the battlements above felt it.

"That's all we can do," Heath heard one of the archers say grimly. "We have little to no ammunition left, and even if we did there would be too great a risk of-"

"Killing our own," Heath finished. "We know."

He slung his bow over his shoulder next to his empty quiver and made his way past the archers.

"Where are you going?" Ed asked him.

"To check on something!" he called over his shoulder. Ike should have been back ages ago. The sinking feeling that he'd had before intensified. Something was wrong, he was sure of it, and come the devil or high water, he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Heath was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn't notice the dark, cloaked form edging around the battle and slipping into the castle.

Ike was tiring. He was fighting Archibald, a trained warrior with a sword, and he had only one throwing knife with which to defend himself. If that weren't enough, Ike wasn't specially trained in close-range combat. He preferred hitting his target from the safe distance of a few hundred paces.

Archibald, on the other hand, was not only trained to fight close-range, but he was good at it too. He wasn't as good as Jay or Zia, but there was no denying that he was a very accomplished swordsman.

Too bad he's also a very accomplished traitor, Ike thought bitterly as his knife deflected a swing aimed at his chest.

This fight was going on too long, Ike knew. He had to get away to stop Elaina before she completed whatever demonic plan she was here to fulfill. But the only way out of this fight that Ike could find was dying, and that wasn't an option he particularly liked. Maybe he would stand a better chance if he had his second knife.

Archibald raised his sword to swing it in a path that would end in Ike's severed head falling to the floor, and as he exposed himself, Ike raised his knife as if to block the sword, raised his leg, and kicked Archibald square in the chest.

Archibald stumbled back, but quickly regained his balance. "I'm growin' tired o' this nonsense," he said. He turned to face Ike again, but Ike had disappeared. Archibald quickly scanned the corridor, and saw him just in time to watch him scoop up the knife that he had thrown earlier.

Archibald expected Ike to now throw one of his knives at him, but he did not. Instead, he turned on his heel and rounded the corner, chasing after Elaina.

"No!" Archibald roared. He ran after him. He wasn't as fast as Ike, but he was light on his feet, and when he was close enough he leaped through the air and tackled Ike to the ground, dropping his sword in order to grab a better hold of Ike's legs.

Ike's knives flew from his hands and clattered on the stone floor, and the two men began to wrestle. Archibald, being the bigger person, easily pinned Ike to the ground. He then raised his fist and repeatedly punched Ike in the face.

Blood spluttered from Ike's face as a gag-worthy crack! joined the chorus of Ike's cries of pain and Archibald grunts. Ike's nose was most definitely broken.

Through the blood splattered across his face, Ike spotted one of his throwing knives just a few feet away. If he could just reach it...

He stretched his hand toward his weapon discreetly, but the movement drew Archibald's eye, and he dove toward the knife before Ike's fingertips had even touched the hilt.

Archibald gripped the knife firmly and placed it threatening under Ike's chin, the tip piercing into the soft spot of his neck.

"I don' wan' to kill ye, Ike," Archibald said, panting hard. Ike was also breathing hard, but whether it was from the threat of being killed with his own weapon or from the exertion of their fight Archibald couldn't tell. "I know ye're a good lad. Bu' I can' have ye makin' things worse for all of us."

Archibald raised Ike's knife high in the air and brought the hilt down toward Ike's head.

The last thing Ike remembered before he passed out was reaching for his other discarded knife and shoving it into Archibald's ribs just as the cold hilt touched his temple.

Heath walked quickly down the corridor to Zia's room. He tried to tell himself that everything was fine and that Zia had just made Ike stay to give her a detailed update on what was happening, but no matter what he did he couldn't shake the terrible sense of foreboding that gripped his heart. But when he rounded a corner and saw two bodies lying in the middle of the floor, chills ran down his back and fear gripped his heart.

Heath rushed forward. As got closer he recognized the form of Archibald, and anger pounded through his head. He roughly nudged the man with the tip of his toe to see if he would stir. He didn't. Heath leaned closer and saw that Archibald's chest was not moving up and down. He placed his fingers on the Scullish man's neck and felt for a pulse that was not there. He was dead.

Heath pushed Archibald's carcass aside and gasped when he saw the pale, bleeding face of his best friend. His heart leapt into his throat and he frantically laid his ear to Ike's chest, relief washing over him like a rushing waterfall when he heard slow, deep, even breaths. He checked for any injuries his friend might have sustained, but besides a broken nose and a few lumps and bruises he could find none.

Heath quickly dragged Ike into a nearby room and laid him by the bed, as Ike was too heavy for him to lift all on his own. Heath did, however, take time to place two plump pillows under Ike's head. Ike would be safe there. Then, not even pausing to look at Archibald's body, he made his way to Zia's room with a speed born of fear.

Zia still heard shouting and fighting from both outside in the courtyard and out in the corridor. Having twice the amount of fighting gave Zia twice the amount of stress and worry. Not knowing what was going on frustrated her more than anything.

Fed up with the cluelessness Zia, her leg still throbbing painfully, slipped her feet off the bed and let them settle on the cold stone floor. She reached for her sword on her bedside table and used it to support her weight like a walking stick as she made her way to the door.

She only made it a few feet when suddenly the door swung open. A small girl with brown hair and dark eyes stood in the doorway.

"Elaina?" Zia asked, thinking that maybe the sedative wasn't out of her system completely and that she was hallucinating.

But Zia was not hallucinating, although maybe it would have been better if she had been, because the determined, angry look in Elaina's bloodshot eyes was very unsettling.

Trying to look like she was casually leaning on her sword instead of using it as a cane, Zia tried to say, "What are you doing here?" with as little pain in her voice as she could.

Elaina surprised her by saying, "I'm sorry, Zia."

Zia narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Was Elaina apologizing for betraying them? "Finally realized that Daxtor's an evil git then, have you?" she asked.

"I've finally realized that you're a very good actress," she corrected.

Zia looked at her in confusion. "Actress? Me?" Her voice rose in indignation. "You're the one who did the acting. You're the one who betrayed us to your precious father!"

"Yes, and you're the reason so many lives have been lost!" Elaina shot back venomously. "You've forced innocent people to do your dirty work, manipulating them."

"I'm confused. Are we talking about me or Daxtor?"

"You dare to joke about it?" Elaina said angrily. "I had hoped that Papa was wrong, Zia. I had hoped that this was all just a big misunderstanding, but you clearly show no remorse for your actions."

"Remorse for my actions?" Zia asked indignantly. "You dare to talk about showing remorse for my actions after what you and Daxtor have done? I'll admit, Elaina, I'm not proud of all the things I've done, but nothing I've done could possibly be as bad as what your and your father have."

"What we've done," Elaina shrieked, "is hunt you down-"

"To use me as a weapon to hurt innocent people!"

"-to end your tyranny over innocent people!"

Anger boiled hot in Zia's blood. She clenched all her muscles, but quickly relaxed her wounded leg at the sharp pain she felt. Her voice was low when she spoke. "You think I'm the tyrant? Have you seen your father recently?"

"Stop playing innocent, Zia, you're not fooling anyone," Elaina advised. "Not any more at least."

Zia growled in frustration. "Are you here to anger me into using my 'power'," she asked sarcastically, "or are you just stupid?"

"Threaten me with your gift all you wish, Zia, but you will not find me as weak-minded a prey as your previous victims."

Zia was thoroughly confused now, and her throbbing leg did nothing but distract her. "Weak minded victims? Tyranny? Playing innocent? Does anything you say make sense?" Zia wondered briefly if perhaps Elaina had broken into her father's stash of mead and wine.

"Elaina," she said slowly in what she hoped was a reasonable tone. "You don't have to stand by Daxtor. You don't have to take his side-"

"Yes I do!" Elaina shouted. "Because if I don't then you'll continue to hurt innocent people!" Her voice softened. "You don't have to do this, Zia. You don't have to continue on the path that you are on. If you surrender, I'm sure Papa will be very understanding-"

"Surrender? Understanding? Daxtor? The only thing Daxtor understands is the disappointment of an empty bottle!"

"Then you give me no choice," Elaina said sadly. "I'm sorry, Zia, but I can't let you hurt any more people I care about. And once you're gone, Ike will be free from you, and he will finally understand."

Zia didn't understand why Elaina was saying all of this until she saw Elaina draw a bronze dagger and hold it at eye level, just as Ike had taught her. She threw her arm back, and just when she flung it forward, a voice shouted "No!" and she was tackled to the ground.

The knife still flew from Elaina's grasp, and Zia watched it spin end over end, as if in slow motion, right towards her chest- right where her heart was.