I took a moment longer to focus on my next destination, as the exact location would be of highest importance. But I still had to move quickly before Halkkor could regain his bearings and claw my leg off. As soon as I could, I teleported again.
I appeared at the edge of the grand fiery chasm between the Barracks of the Damned and the Department of Torture. To my delight, I discovered that my desired effect had been achieved--I was standing on the edge of the cliff and Halkkor was suddenly thrust out into the air above the enormous pit of bubbling lava. What I hadn't considered, of course, was that when he appeared above the lava and immediately fell, he might keep his grip on my ankle.
Halkkor fell with a low yelp. His claws dug deeply and painfully into my leg. He held on and swung with a thud against the rock face. All of his weight pulled at my ankle. I lost my footing. I hit the ground hard on my side, sliding quickly toward the precipice over which I'd hoped to dispose of my foe. Instead, it looked like we'd both be taking a swim in the lake of fire.
Swearing unavailingly under my breath, I grappled with the dry shale as I slid, searching frantically for a handhold. I found one--then two. But they were both tiny imperfections in the flat expanse of stone and I was literally hanging on by my fingertips. For the moment, however, I was safe from the lava.
And, of course, now tenaciously digging his fingers into my flesh with both hands, Halkkor held on.