"All of life is a game, little goat. Ancient history will never change that." A snarl of small tentacles shot out with lightning speed to snare my right arm. "And the best games are those that end in a shower of blood." As the last word was still echoing in the air, I was yanked off my feet and dragged at a furious rate through the mud. But I was abruptly freed when Niko swiveled and swung his blade at the long streamers of flesh in one fluid motion, parting them like cheap party streamers. The dark purple blood that spattered my skin burned like acid and I swore as I backpedaled away from the troll.

"All right, asshole," I snarled. "We're gonna finish what Billy Goat Gruff started." Surging to my feet, I pulled my own knife. It was shorter than Niko's sword but just as sharp. "Loman, this is your last chance to get your ass the hell out of here."

A bright flash I saw from the corner of my eye turned out to be Robin with his own sword. Where in the world he'd hidden it was a trick only Siegfried and Roy could've solved. "I've had fights that have lasted longer than your entire short life," he countered grimly, hefting the weapon. "Take care of your own ass, Caliban, because I can certainly take care of mine." Good to know, because in this battle it looked like the devil would take the hindmost, and I wasn't at all sure that the devil had anything on Abbagor.

"You could let us walk out of here, troll." Niko's poker face didn't shift an iota, but that didn't keep a carnivorous light from flashing in his eyes. "Not, mind you, that we wouldn't enjoy dicing you to a fine purple spray, but we are on a tight schedule. I'm sure you understand."

"Now, what kind of host would I be if I let you leave without providing some entertainment?" Abbagor bounded from the ground to adhere high to one concrete wall without any regard to gravity. Hanging with his head down, he twisted it to aim his python smile at us. "And mutilation can be so very entertaining." Then he was on top of us like a falling mountain.

And that's exactly what it felt like when he hit. I was the lucky one; he struck me with only a glancing blow—and that was more than enough to catapult me through the air and slam me into the far wall. I impacted on my left shoulder and hip and then landed hard on my stomach. Mud splattered up into my face and mouth as I gritted my teeth against a groan. My hip ached viciously and my shoulder felt on fire, maybe dislocated. Pushing up on one arm, I managed to slowly get the other one to follow suit. Not dislocated, then, just sprained or badly bruised. Either way, it didn't matter. What was going on in front of my eyes pretty much banished any pain to the back of my mind. "Shit."

Robin was half buried in mire, an enormous foot planted on his back and shoulders. His head was completely under the muck and I could see his arms flailing as his body twitched frantically for oxygen. Niko… Niko hung from Abbagor's own huge fist. Other hands, tattooed and not, grabbed blindly at my brother's body, restraining his legs as he kicked with desperate but controlled strength. His face was turning blue as his hands tore at the steely gray flesh around his neck. Abbagor must've landed directly on him, half crushing him, before hoisting him high in the air. It was the only way Niko would've lost his sword. And the only way he would be in danger of losing his life.

Knife still in my hand, I shot to my feet. My left leg nearly buckled under me, but it still managed to hold as I ran. It probably hurt like hell, and maybe later I'd have the luxury of noticing it. But not now. Not when my brother was having the life systematically choked out of him. After a few steps the leg stabilized and I sped up. Just before I reached Abbagor I dived toward the ground, rolled, and scooped up Niko's fallen sword. "Niko!" I tossed the blade up with the unshakable faith that he would catch it. Absolute, utter faith, but that didn't keep me from saying a silent prayer. The second I saw his hand close around the grip, I turned and slammed my knife in the troll's leg, the one that was currently entombing Goodfellow in a makeshift grave.

"Naughty. Naughty." The leg didn't move, not even a millimeter, as dark blood coursed down it. The knife hadn't fazed Abbagor in the slightest. However, when Niko's sword embedded itself in the pulsing gray throat, that became a different story. Abbagor reeled backward one step, and then another. As he did, Robin came up out of the filth, spitting mud and spitting mad. He swung his own sword, slicing Abbagor across the muscled thigh. Blood sprayed several feet as Niko fell from the troll's grip to land beside Robin. I grabbed a handful of his coat to steady him as he caught his breath. He coughed, the blue fading from his face.

"You okay?" I demanded sharply. A single strand of long blond hair hung free from his braid as he sucked in deep breaths. It was the most disheveled I'd seen him since Meredith had last trapped him in the storage room. "Niko?"

"I'm all right." He squared his shoulders and went on calmly, if hoarsely. "Annoyed, quite annoyed. But basically in one piece. You?"

I didn't have a chance to reply and play the stoic hero as Abbagor gave a gurgling roar and spit blood. "Red rover, red rover, who shall I dare over?" It wasn't a roar after all. It wasn't even a growl. It was a laugh. The son of a bitch was laughing. He was having fun. Hell, he was having the time of his life. Wiping at the blood pouring down his neck, he licked it from his fingers as if it were the finest wine.

In unwitting imitation, Robin wiped a hand across his grimacing face, making a muddy mess even worse. His disgust, however, turned instantly to anguish as he looked down to see what was left of his cherished shirt.

And although he'd been as cyanotic as Niko, the lack of air didn't keep him from snarling at Abbagor, "I've always hated you, you walking piece of rancid calamari. Did I ever tell you that? You make my flesh crawl, every homicidal, putrid inch of you. You make me want to vomit until my insides beg for mercy. The very sight of you fills me with a repugnance so strong that—"

Niko flicked Robin's ear and suggested firmly, "You may want to save your breath for fighting, Goodfellow. I believe you're going to need it."

"The wise words of a dead man." The troll executed a spectacular backward flip off the wall to land behind us. I wheeled about as fast as I could with the mud dragging me down. It was just in time for a monstrous hand to seize me by the shirt and shake me like a rag doll. My T-shirt tore almost immediately and I dropped back to my feet. Lunging to one side, I managed to avoid another swipe and plunged my knife to the hilt in Abbagor's arm. This time I lost it. Tendrils lashed around my wrist and it was all I could do to pull myself free. The knife was history.

Niko instantly moved between Abbagor and me, lopping off two of the imprisoned arms with one stroke. I knew they couldn't belong to people, not people as we knew them anyway, not anymore. But it still sent an atavistic shiver down my spine. With fingers curled over the palms, the naked hands lay on the ground, leaking blood that was a nauseating mix of human red and troll purple. Robin didn't spare them a glance as he broke right to come around to Abbagor's flank and aimed a blow at his back. He managed to slice away a large portion of slithering flesh and received a punishing swat that sent him flying for his trouble.

And Abbagor continued to laugh. It was a dark gloating sound that filled the cavern with the peal of satanic church bells. It was nice to know somebody was enjoying himself. I figured I might have a better time if I rearmed myself. Dropping to one knee, I pulled up the leg of my sweatpants. I felt metal under my fingers, but my hand froze as I saw Niko disappear before my eyes. One moment he was there, the next gone.