Annja whirled, facing the two remaining Moro warriors. Each of them held the wicked-looking kris knife that Annja had read about. The curvy blade had more than enough cutting power to end her life. And the two cuts she now endured were sign enough that she had to finish things off as quickly as possible.

She concentrated on the first warrior, who wanted to edge his way around to her left. Annja used her lead foot to keep it in line with his centerline. By dipping the tip of her blade just a bit, she could keep him from getting to that side.

The second warrior also was starting to edge his way to her right.

Annja frowned.

They wanted to flank her at the same time. By splitting her attention, they’d be able to get a kill shot in on her.

Not this time, she thought.

Annja waited for the first warrior to make another move and, as soon as he did, she rolled and cut horizontally at his legs. She felt the edge of her sword bite into the front of his shins.

He cried out and leaped away from her, knocking into the cavern wall.

Annja got to her feet and instantly pointed at the second warrior in order to keep him at bay. She feinted with a stab at his heart and he dodged it. Annja flicked the blade up and cut him on the back of his hand. The cut wasn’t enough to make him cry out, but Annja had delivered her message.

She wouldn’t be that easy to kill.

The first warrior’s legs were a mess of blood, but Annja doubted the wound was serious enough to cause him to make another mistake. But they’d treat her with a bit more respect now, and besides, Annja felt better that she’d gotten a couple of good shots in on them.

She wondered briefly if the amount of blood was enough to make the ground beneath them slick.

Annja’s breath came faster now and she was soaked through with sweat. Something about the close confines of the cavern made it tougher to get her air back. She felt a bit more exhausted than usual.

She found that was strange.

Ordinarily, using the sword made her feel more powerful. She could feel its power still coursing through her veins, but somehow, it felt muted.

Annja frowned. Was it another new discovery about the sword she hadn’t known before? Or had the psychological advantage the sword usually gave her worn off now that she was so accustomed to using it? She realized this was not the ideal thought process to follow given the circumstances.

The first warrior circled toward her front. The second tried edging his way to her right again. Annja frowned. They seemed to be moving slower now.

Her head swam.

She took a deep breath, struggling for more oxygen. She blinked twice and then saw the first warrior coming straight at her.

Annja spun, bending back just as the blade of his knife streaked in at her heart. Annja knocked it away and then righted herself, thrusting with the sword straight at him.

She felt the blade cut into the side of his neck. More blood spurted as she severed his carotid artery. He clamped a hand on the wound, but the blood ran too fast for him to alleviate the spraying artery. He took a halfhearted stab at her and Annja danced out of range, still wary of the other warrior.

The first warrior slumped to the ground.

The final warrior risked one glance at his fallen comrade and then glared at Annja. He screamed something at her in the language he spoke, but Annja just shrugged.

“I don’t have a clue what you said.”

Her head ached. Her lungs heaved and she was literally dripping with sweat. It seemed harder than ever to keep moving. Somehow she had to kill this guy and get out of here.

Perhaps there was some sort of natural gas in the cavern that was making her so woozy? She didn’t know, but she had to get out of there.

And fast.

The warrior rolled on the ground and grabbed the other man’s knife. When he came to his feet, he wielded a blade in each hand.

Great, Annja thought. Now he’s got two.

She feinted a thrust at his heart, and he parried it while simultaneously slashing down at her. The way he moved reminded Annja of some of the more talented escrimadors she’d seen practicing.

They had used twin rattan sticks, but Annja knew the sticks represented machetes. Real escrima was an exceptional art, provided you could find someone who actually knew how to teach it properly. Like a lot of other martial arts, it could be difficult locating a really good teacher.

It was obvious this guy knew what he was doing.

Annja backed up and he recalibrated himself. He whirled the two blades and moved into another fighting posture.

Annja’s head swam. He seemed to be moving even more slowly.

Or was she moving slower?

The wound on her back throbbed. She could feel it pulse erratically, as if it was already infected. But it was too soon, wasn’t it?

With a sinking feeling in her gut, Annja recognized the possibility that they had somehow poisoned her. Maybe their blades had been coated with a topical poison of some sort. She had little doubt they knew any number of potent toxins in the indigenous jungle plants.

And she’d been lucky enough to get the business end of some of them.

She took a deep breath. If she didn’t end this fight soon, she’d be dead. She needed to kill him and figure out how to neutralize the toxin probably coursing through her veins.

That must be why she felt weaker even with the sword. If she put the blade away, she would probably already be dead.

She thrust out at her opponent and he again parried the attack. Annja heaved a breath into her lungs.

I’m running out of time. But how can I deal with this guy?

She held the blade and faced him. She could see the rage burning in his eyes. His skin had a dull sheen of sweat on it. But a poison wasn’t causing it. He’s just angry I’ve killed two of his pals, Annja thought.

He stabbed in with one of his blades and cut down diagonally with the other, retracted it and turned it into a stab. The rapid-fire three strikes came at her faster than she expected. It was all she could do to parry and dodge them one after another.

He broke off the attack and Annja retreated even farther. She sensed the wall behind her.

I’m losing it, she thought.

He attacked again, another round of three attacks coming at her almost too fast to handle.

Annja breathed heavily, trying to get more air into her lungs.

Come on!

He ducked low and tried to attack her legs, flashing the blades, striking like a cobra. He darted this way and that, probing her defenses, keeping her moving, always on edge.

Annja kept evading him, and the more she did, the more tired she got.

He’s wearing me out deliberately, she thought. The faster I tire, the easier it is for the toxin to take effect.

She’d played right into his hands.

I’m not going down that easily, she decided.

She eyed him as he continued to circle her. The tip of her blade kept him at bay, but as he continued to dance around her periphery like a hungry shark, Annja let the tip of her sword wobble a bit.

Her eyes grew watery. Her sinuses seemed to be running, as well.

The toxin was starting to shut her down.

She could feel the hammering of her heart as the wound to her back continued to throb mercilessly. If that cut had gone deeper, she thought, I’d be dead already and wouldn’t need to worry about poisons.

The warrior pressed her again, attacking her hard this time. He cut down, slashed horizontally and then up at an oblique angle before rebounding and immediately launching another series of attacks.

Annja parried, dodged and leaped to avoid being cut. Each movement seemed to grow more painful than the last.

What poison is this? she wondered. Her muscles felt as if they were seizing. As if they’d lost all their natural flexibility and elasticity.

The warrior must have sensed it. He smiled now at Annja and said something else to her. She couldn’t understand it, but it sounded as if he was taunting her.

“Shut the hell up,” she murmured. She gritted her teeth.

The tip of her sword wobbled even more and she had trouble keeping it in line with his eyes. It faltered and then she allowed it to drop even more until it pointed toward the floor.

He must have been waiting for that because as soon as her sword lowered, he charged right in at her, his arms starting to knock the sword blade down and away from him. If he could just bridge the gap and get inside her defenses, he’d be able to kill her.

Annja stepped to one side and dropped to her knee, flicking the blade up and inside the man’s arcing arms as they came down. The blade caught him on the inside of his forearms, slicing into his skin. It continued to travel as his momentum pitched him forward and then slid right into his sternum, bisecting his heart.

Annja heard a sharp gasp of breath and then the unmistakable sound of bones giving way to the steel blade of her sword.

Annja withdrew the sword and he toppled to the ground.

She used the blade to push herself back up to a standing position. She took two steps and then had to lean against the wall for support.

Her vision blurred. The flickering torches didn’t help.

Got to reach the exit, she thought.

Got to make it. For Vic.

Her heart rate seemed to be slowing. Even her injured back seemed less annoying now. She took a breath and realized she was losing sensation in her limbs.

Paralysis?

Whatever the poison was, it was extremely potent. She decided it had to be something that attacked her nervous system, gradually shutting down all of her systems until she was dead.

And if her heart stopped, that would be it.

“Vic—”

Annja tried to call out, but even her voice seemed faraway and removed from her.

She took another step and dropped to the floor of the cavern.

She could vaguely smell the blood on the floor from the men she’d killed.

Was she going to die here, as well?

She gripped her sword in one hand and tried to pull herself along the floor with the other. But her legs didn’t seem to want to obey her commands. And she couldn’t tell if her brain was even functioning enough to deliver the neurological impulses.

Annja licked her lips. Her mouth tasted like a sweaty sock.

She looked at the sword and the dull gray light it cast off.

Is this my last battle?

She tried to crawl again, but only managed to get a mouthful of dirt and stone for her weak efforts.

Annja took a breath. It was shallow and she felt as if her heart rattled against the inside of her chest.

The sword.

Annja had to put it away before someone else found it. If she was going to die, then the secret of its existence had to die with her.

She took one last breath and closed her eyes.

Darkness reached for her.