Gred said something in Elven and slowly straightened. Although his head barely rose above the grass, his broad face, twisted with anger, was now clearly visible.

The elf did not care in the slightest. He spoke a short phrase in Dwarven, enunciating every word, then laughed heartily.

Gred clenched his teeth, roared, and sprang forward. Smiling, the elf nocked an arrow. His slender arms held astonishing strength: he effortlessly drew the bow to its limit and released, sending the arrow toward the charging dwarf like a bullet.

It happened so quickly that Jess had not even reacted before Gred pulled the buckler from his back and knocked the arrow aside with perfect accuracy.

The dwarf continued racing through the grass. The smile vanished from the elf's face. He reached for a second arrow, took one look at the distance, then lowered his hand.

Gred was closing too fast. There was no longer time to draw the bow.

The elf crossed his arms over his chest and gracefully drew two curved blades from his waist, one long and one short. He calmly evaded a thrust from Gred's sword, turned, and brought both blades down. The dwarf knocked them away with his shield, but the strike from the short blade in the elf's right hand had only been a feint. It skimmed past the shield and stabbed toward the dwarf's waist. Gred reacted just as quickly, slamming his raised buckler down to knock the blade aside. Riding the impact, the elf spun two steps away. When they faced each other again, his blades were already poised, one high and one low.

Gred casually tossed the buckler aside, cursed in Dwarven, and gripped his sword with both hands. This time, the elf looked far more serious and prepared to meet him with his full strength.

Watching those first few exchanges left Jess stunned. If he charged into a fight at this level, wouldn't the slightest contact leave two or three holes in him?

But Gred did not have the advantage. If Jess refused to help and the dwarf lost, Jess would be dead as well. He drew his axe and circled around.

The elf noticed his movement and merely shifted his eyes toward him. Gred immediately roared and charged with his sword raised. Frowning, the elf caught the heavy chop between his two blades, but the dwarf's strength was so great that he forced the crossed weapons all the way down to the elf's shoulder.

The elf clenched his teeth and glanced at the clenched-fist emblem of Stromgarde on the sword's hilt. Behind him, Jess had already arrived.

Jess swung the axe viciously at the elf's waist. With a grunt, the elf twisted out from under the dwarf's pressing sword and sidestepped Jess's sweep, slipping free like a nimble mongoose.

He retreated several steps until Jess and Gred were both in front of him. A loose strand of golden hair slid down the edge of the dwarf's sword, and his gaze followed it.

"All this for one plant, hmm?" The elf looked between them. "Are you trying to get yourselves killed?"

"Aren't you?" Jess asked. "It's two against one."

Gred said, "This is no longer about the plant, pointy-eared rat. Be good and die."

"Yes, yes." The elf looked at Jess. "This is no longer about the plant. Mr. Dwarf wishes to reclaim his meaningless honor and dignity, while I have no intention of letting him."

"Die!" Gred roared and charged again. The elf merely snorted and deflected the dwarf's diagonal thrust with his long blade. After retreating two steps, he hurled the short blade. It skimmed Gred's lower leg, cleanly opened a bloody gash, and buried itself in the soil. Gred grunted and fell.

"Gred!"

Jess could not keep pace with the two fighters. Seeing Gred at a disadvantage, he simply threw his axe. The logging axe spun straight toward the elf, who easily dodged it.

"Human, is there something wrong with your head?"

Jess looked at Gred struggling to rise and the elf watching him from the corner of his eye. In a flash of recklessness, he came up with a terrible idea.

He began reciting English dialogues he had memorized in his previous life—phrases like "How are you?"—and pretended to chant a spell. At the same time, he imitated the way Surena had cast magic in the cellar, gesturing with both hands before his chest.

The elf was startled. He hurriedly raised a hand and pointed toward Jess, his lips moving slightly. An instant later, Jess felt as though a string had snapped inside his head. Violent ringing in his ears swallowed his entire consciousness.

For a moment, the whole world seemed to press inward on him. He opened his mouth but could not speak. He tried to shout but produced no sound. His vision spun, and he could no longer remain upright.

After swaying in a daze, he fell face-first and filled his mouth with mud. From the corner of his eye, he saw Gred climb up and punch the elf in the jaw, sending him flying several yards. The elf struck the ground and skidded some distance.

Jess gave a foolish laugh. The elf had fallen for it. Convinced that Jess was about to cast a spell, he had done everything he could to stop him.

Jess had expected the elf to throw a knife or fire an arrow to interrupt his efforts.

Since Jess had never truly planned to cast anything, all his attention had been on his opponent. He was confident he could dodge whatever came—or at least keep a hurried attack from striking a vital point—thereby buying Gred time to counterattack. He had never expected the elf to stop him with a spell instead.

So this was what being hit by Counterspell felt like? It was as though a wall had struck the back of his head.

"Enough!"

Just when Jess thought Gred had won, the elf roared and stood. He chanted a spell, and a mass of ice burst violently from the ground, pinning Gred in place. No matter how hard the dwarf pulled, he could not free his legs.

"You two idiots... I've had enough." Retreating, the elf pointed at them and declared, "I'm taking that plant. What are you going to do about it? Come fight me, you pair of lunatics... My luck has been utterly rotten today. Let's see what else you can do. How are you going to stop me now?"

He was already limping, and his shouted words sounded weak. Rubbing the cheek Gred had punched, he cursed and walked toward the Kingsblood. Suddenly, a harsh metallic snap strangled his endless complaints.

"Aaaah! Kill me! You dead dwarf, you hairy freak, you blind dog—and that damned, short-lived monkey! I'll burn down Goldshire! No, I'll blast loose the snow above Ironforge and bury your homeland! I'll kill every last one of you lowborn mongrels in this world..."

The elf's curses soon became sobs. Only after he finished did Gred say, "If you don't release me from this ice, I can't help you open the iron trap."

"Open it? Open it? Curse this piece of dwarven rubbish! It must be broken—that's why it's so hard to open!" the elf screamed through tears.

"Little brother." Gred looked toward Jess, who was still dizzy from the Counterspell. "Go see what good things he has in his pack."

At those words, Jess immediately felt energetic again.