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protected against all forms of magic by charms the power of which you have no conception, little mage—”
    His voice died away to a whisper, strangled in sudden fear and shock as Raistlin removed his hand from his robe. In his palm lay the bloodstone pendant.
    “Protected from all forms of magic,” said the young mage, his grin like that of a skull’s, “but not protected against sleight-of-hand. Not protected against the skills of a common street illusionist.…”
    Raistlin saw the wizard turn deathly pale. Fistandantilus’s eyes went feverishly to the chain on his neck. Now that the illusion was revealed, he realized he held nothing in his hand.
    A rending, cracking sound shattered the silence. The stone floor beneath Raistlin’s feet heaved, sending the young mage stumbling to his knees. Rock blew apart as the foundation of the laboratory broke in half. Above the chaos rose Fistandantilus’s voice, chanting a powerful spell of summoning.
    Recognizing it, Raistlin responded, clutching the bloodstone in his hand as he cast a spell of shielding around his body to give himself time to work his magic. Crouched on the floor, he twisted around to see a figure burst through the foundation, its hideous shape and visage something seen only in insane dreams.
    “Seize him, hold him!” Fistandantilus shrieked, pointing at Raistlin. The apparition surged across the crumbling floortoward the young mage and reached for him with its writhing coils.
    Fear overwhelmed Raistlin as the creature from beyond worked its own horrible magic on him. The shielding spell crumbled beneath the onslaught. The apparition would devour his soul and feast upon his flesh.
    Control! Long hours of study, long-practiced strength and rigorous self-discipline brought the words of the spell Raistlin needed to his mind. Within moments, it was complete. As the young mage began to chant the words of banishment, he felt the ecstasy of his magic flow through his body, delivering him from the fear.
    The apparition hesitated.
    Fistandantilus, furious, ordered it on.
    Raistlin ordered it to halt.
    The apparition glared at each, its coils twisting, its very appearance shifting and shimmering in the gusty winds of its creation. Both mages held it in check, watching the other intently, waiting for the eye blink, the lip twitch, the spasmodic jerk of a finger that would prove fatal.
    Neither moved, neither seemed likely to move. Raistlin’s endurance was greater, but Fistandantilus’s magic came from ancient sources; he could call upon unseen powers to support him.
    Finally, it was the apparition itself who could no longer endure. Caught between two equal, conflicting powers, tugged and pulled in opposite directions, its magical being could be held together no longer. With a brilliant flash, it exploded.
    The force hurled both mages backward, slamming them into the walls. A horrible smell filled the chamber, and broken glass fell like rain. The walls of the laboratory were blackened and charred. Here and there, small fires burned with bright, multicolored flames, casting a lurid glow over the site of the destruction.
    Raistlin staggered swiftly to his feet, wiping blood from a cut on his forehead. His enemy was not less quick, both knowing weakness meant death. The two mages faced each other in the flickering light.
    “So, it comes to this!” Fistandantilus said in his cracked and ancient voice. “You could have gone on, living a life of ease. I would have spared you the debilities, the indignities of old age. Why rush to your own destruction!”
    “You know,” Raistlin said softly, breathing heavily, his strength nearly spent.
    Fistandantilus nodded slowly, his eyes on Raistlin. “As I said,” he murmured softly, “it is a pity this must happen. We could have done much together, you and I. Now—”
    “Life for one. Death for the other,” Raistlin said. Reaching out his hand, he carefully laid the bloodstone pendant upon the cold slab. Then he heard the