All tales have a beginning, heroes and tyrants their first step into legend. This is mine.

Into the Great Hall I marched, sweat covering my face and mud coated boots marking the polished floor. Few amongst the large gathering paid me attention, my appearance and stench being nothing more than a lowly beggar. Through day and night I had ridden to reach the capital city in time, drawn by the rumour of the lords meeting and the reward. If the prize was anywhere near the value whispered it was worth any amount of lost sleep. The crowd was a true mix of the people of the land. Wealthy noble families and their guards and servants, rich merchants draped in the finest robes, furs and jewels and the priests of the temples, so-called wisest of the Gods devoted followers. Alongside them, but standing very much apart were those like myself;sellswords, hired killers, bounty hunters, soldiers old and young.All were armed and all were eyed with unease and contempt by the fairer, nobles of the crowd. I came to rest beside a stone statue of Lord Starnik, ruler of Castille many centuries ago, arms folded beneath my sweat and mud soaked robe, the hood still raised over my head. My eyes were heavy and sleep would have claimed mehad the horns not announced the arrival of the man whose words I had journeyed to hear. Shorter and far rounder than I had expected, the monarch was aided by two guards as he walked. He settled upon his throne, looking tired from the effort it had taken him to traverse the short distance within his home, his face already damp and clothes marked with patches. Only after being handed a vast goblet of spiced wine did he speak, his brow furrowed, angered and impatient. Thank you for attending at this grave time, Lord Dargsthal began, his irritation betrayed by a hint of distress in his tone. Some of you here already know of what terrible fate has befallen our nation, but for those unaware I will explain. Four nights ago Kratos Athma, noble councillor and my closest advisor, betrayed his lord and country. A low murmur resonated through the crowded mass, their whispering louder in the vast space of the Great Hall. Quiet, Dargsthal moaned, before his aides hushed their lords audience. Something very dear to me was taken. Something that I would give anything to reclaim.My Lady-wife Mellisande. The murmur became more of a chorus, the merchants and noble families speaking louder, the lords words confirming many of their suspicions. Quiet, Dargsthalsaid, sweat dripping from his forehead, his face a dark crimson. The rogue Kratos has taken my beloved captive and the Gods only know what vile and perverse torture he is putting her through as I speak. Will he even want her back after all that? chuckled a mercenary near to me. Will she even want to come back, look at the state of him. The traitorous coward has fled to the tower I had him build for me, the lord continued. It resides just over a days ride from here, hidden in Stag Forest. It is there that I believe my

beloved is imprisoned. I dispatched Sirs Larash, Olyon and Rivgh but three days have passed and none have returned. A murmur grew amongst the crowd again until one man, a noble, spoke out. Is it not true that Kratos Athma possesses arcane talent? I heard he was a powerful sorcerer, replied a soldier, a veteran of war,deep scars lining his face and armour. I heard he could command the dead at will, called out another man. A woman nearby shrieked at this, clutching her young child close to her breast in fear. Enough, commanded the lord, silencing the hall. Kratos is a mad, coward, a snake who would rather run and hide behind a captive woman than stand and face justice for his crimes. So is it true? Is he a mage? asked the nobleman again. Dargsthal did not answer this question. With my army at war to the east and the majority of my order of knights in the north quelling a barbarian rebellion, I ask if there are any brave warriors who wish to write their names in the glorious history of our land.Five thousand golds to the one who returns Mellisande to me and delivers Kratoss head at the tip of his blade. Now, what say you? None spoke at first. Then the whispering started. Five thousand to kill a sorcerer? No chance. Im not going anywhere near those mages. Theyre accursed fiends that could destroy whole castles at will. Not with fifty men could you do it. I felt a willingness, an excitement, the same that I had felt upon hearing the first rumours of Dargsthals assembly and that had driven me to travel to the capital city to hear his offer. I even surprised myself when I spoke out, my choice of words that shocked the most. I do not know why I said what I did. Perhaps it was my destiny claiming me. Perhaps it was something else. My lord, your army fights without you. Your knights fight without you. Now, even with your own lady-wife in danger, you would send others to risk their lives to rescue her as you sit safe upon your throne and grow fatter by the day? The hall fell silent except for the stifled laughter of a few soldiers and the children who did not know better and were hushed by their mothers. All looked to me in shock, but I knew that not one of the gathered crowd disagreed with what I had said. How dare you mock your lord, raged Dargsthal, although still he sat, rooted to his throne. I rule the lands of Castille, from the mountain range of the north to the southern borders with the elves. I command an army of fifty thousand men. Who the hell are you? My lord, the words said with an edge of sarcasm, I am no one, not yet. Marek Rhihart is my name. Rhihart, of Covehold? asked the lord, to which I nodded. Your father was Sir Rhihart of my order of knights. I would have thought he would have taught his whelp of a son some manners or at least of honour.

I know all about honour my lord.I have seen nobles leaving families to starve and valiant knights ride down defenceless children. I have witnessed priests burning women who they deemed as whores and harlots, simply for trying to earn the coin for food to feed their bastard children. And now I have witnessed a lord who would rather sit behind his stone walls than rescue the woman he swears to love. Honour is a strange thing, my lord. I could have you strung up for speaking to me like that, Dargsthal said, his rage growing with every insult I threw at him. My lord, you should think on this question. Why is it that your wife was taken? Perhaps it was not against her will. Perhaps she fled from you to be with Kratos. She was taken from me, argued Dargsthal in fury. So you say. Yet were the guards alerted by her screams? In fact were there any cries for help at all? The lord did not reply, caught off-guard by my unexpected accusations, so I continued, though why I wanted to taunt the poor fool I did not know. All I know is that your lady-wife and the councillor must have spent a great amount of time together in aiding your rule and governing your country. A lot of long and lonely nights together whilst you drank and whored your way towards an early grave. Before the lord could say anymore or summon guards to seize me the large doors to the Great Hall swung open as a young lad hurried through the crowd. They parted for him, the women shrieking as they saw what the messenger carried in his hands and presented to Dargsthal.A woven sack, stained crimson and dripping what appeared to be blood on the polished floor. My lord, this arrived for you on the saddle of a blood soaked horse. What is inside? asked Dargsthal, his voice broken and face pale. I knew that he feared it was something of Mellisandes within the sack. My lord, the messenger struggled to say, looking as pale as Dargsthal and as if he was about to retch. It is Sir Larash. From the bloodied sack he pulled out a head, still wearing the knights helm. The head had been severed at the neck and deep cuts covered Larashs face. The helmet itself had been pierced a dozen times, blood running through each hole in the metal.At the centre of the neck stump,impaled in the flesh and spine, resided a small dagger, the hilt held by a skeletal hand ending at the wrist. A rush of talk overcame the hall, all looking on aghast at the severed head, some losing the contents of their stomachs, others fainting in shock. The words sorcerer and undead were saidby many, each with fear and horror as they gazed at what Kratos Athma had inflicted upon the knight of Castille. Thank the Gods it was not Mellisande, the lord swore before ordering the messenger and what remained of Larash away, no sign of grief for his lost soldier. Im glad we dont serve him, remarked a sellsword to his comrade. Silence, boomed the lord, ending the chatter. Now tell me, who will rid therealms of this evil? Again no one spoke and I felt my chance had come. Since you will notmy lord, I will go. Double your reward and I will kill this sorcerer and return to you your beloved.

Ten thousand golds, remarked Dargsthal, seeming more horrified than he had been when he thought it was Mellisandes head in the bloodied sack. Is your lady-wifes life not worth the reward? Yesof course he spluttered. But how is an honourless sellsword, a man of no glory or honour, going to attempt a rescue, let alone succeed? Leave that to me. I want one of your best horses and three thousand gold now, the rest upon my return. The glory and honour will also be mine. The shame shall be yours. You will have nothing now, vowed Dargsthal. Then is there any other willing to rise to the challenge? I asked, looking to those of the crowd around me. None spoke and all looked to me in astonishment. Four thousand now, the rest when I return, I then ordered.

I received my initial payment and then searched the stables for a horse. I was told to take my pick of the steads; any accept the black destrierthat belonged to Dargsthal. Of course I choose the black destrier. Before heading to the stables I was given a map of the nearby lands and told where to find the tower within Stag Forest. The lord then spoke with me in private so that he could be overheard by no one. I have sent messages by crow to my order of knights and they will return within days. We will march on the tower in force and leave nothing standing. That sorcerer is too dangerous to leave alive, but any attack will result in the deaths of many, Mellisandes most likely included. One man might stand a better chance alone in entering the tower unnoticed, freeing her and easing a blade into Kratoss traitorous heart. Regardless, I will take any chance given to me if Mellisande can be saved, no matter how slim the odds. The tower will test you more than you could possibly expect. It was built to hide great value. Be warned, what you find within the highest chambers of the tower is not to be disturbed. If you mean your lady-wife, she will be quite safe, even around me, I had replied with a wolfish grin. I do not mean my beloved, he continued uncomfortably. If you do not heed my words your own life will be forfeit. The lord then spoke in a darker, grimmer tone. If you find my lady-wife and discover that she did leave of her own accord to be with the sorcerer, I want both their heads as trophies. It seemed that my guess of his lady-wifes activities may have hit closer to the mark than expected and with the gold in my pack I was sent away. Upon the black destrier, armed with my fathers sword that in my own hands had already killed man and beast, I set out into the night, no fear or doubt in my heart. As I crossed the courtyard in the dim light of the torches I saw her, a white thoroughbred horse standing alone, no squires daring to approach and I could see why. The mounts coat was almost covered from head to hoof in the blood of its former owner, the late Sir Larash.

It took over a days hard ride to reach the forest and navigate my way through the maze of trees and narrow trails.Without the map I would never have found the stronghold. I did not stop and though my horse tired I did not, nor could I truly remember the last time I had been weary or even yawned.Anticipation, an excitement I guess had formed within me and I was eager to face the sorcerer who had struck such fear into the hearts of the many warriors in Lord Dargsthals Great Hall. Emerging from the trees into the clearing I could finally see it, hidden from the rest of the world almost perfectly. The tower stood as tall as any castle and at least as wide as a fort, an impressive structure in the eyes of anyone. It was newly built, the stone yet to fade with age and the elements. Only the highest levels had any form of windows, small slits from which to gaze across the forest and beyond. Only a single entrance greeted me, a clear walkway that did not even possess a door to ward off intruders. Away amongst the trees I could see a pair of horses, the mounts of Sirs Olyon and Rivgh I guessed, seeking shelter from the coming rain. I led the black destrier to them and tied the reinsto a tree, keeping the mount out of sight of any passers-by. Pulling my cloak tighter about me as the heavens above began to open, and keeping ever watchful of my surroundings, I strode across the clearing and entered the tower, one hand upon the hilt of my sheathed blade at all times.

As I entered the mighty stone structure I felt a chill hit me greater than any breeze or snow could. A wave of evil had washed over me, yet somehow it had felt familiar. Within the entrance of the tower was a basic room with a single stone door, already standing ajar, the passage used by the knights. Above the doorway a simple warning had been carved.

BEWARE THOSE WHO ENTER ONLY PAIN SUFFERING AND EVIL CAN BE FOUND WITHIN THESE WALLS YOU WILL NOT RETURN

I did not need the warning. I knew what waited for me higher in the tower. I had seen its power from what remained of Sir Larash. I drew my sword, the metal singing as it left the scabbard. A scratched, faded weapon, the years of conflict in my hands and my fathers taking their toll, but its edgehoned and made as sharp as the steel could possibly be. That was the only lesson my father, the honourableknight, had ever taught me.A sharp sword can make the difference between life and death. Blade held ready I stepped slowly into the first chamber of the tower.

Just as the fat lord had warned me, the tower was more of a test than I ever thought possible. Each room and corridor and every step on each spiralled staircase had been designed to challenge intruders, those who failed paying with their lives. Within the first chamber lettering covered the entire floor with a single word carved into

the ceiling. FAMILY. I knew that the tower had been constructed at Dargsthals request and with that knowledge I crossed the room, only stepping only the letters of the lords family name, ENTAHAR. The only problem came with the spelling and I discovered what happened to those who made a mistake. I lightly stepped upon an E, realising it should have been an A before I could put down my full weight. From an unseen hole in the letter sharply rose a spear that could tear through a man. Luckily the spear met only the side of my boot as I quickly leapt aside and onto the next letter before reaching the far side of the room and the next doorway. The following corridor and the staircase beyond were filled with similar traps, spears, darts and poisoned arrows flying at me from all directions for any wrong step or trip-wire disturbed. Onwards I continued, my instincts and speed somehow equal to the task as not a single one of the deadly projectiles struck me. Similar rooms of spear traps and enclosing walls followed, again my speed and cunning equal to the task, but the journey became harder the higher in the tower I climbed. In one of the rooms I had to race across a stone bridge as a flowing tide of burning acid roared towards me. Thankfully the only damage done was the melting of the bottom of my cloak. Within one of the next chambers I found Sir Rivgh, or rather the remains of the knight. His legs and his right arm laid severed about him and torso impaled by all manner of weapon. Around him were over a dozen skeletons, bodies crumpled and broken. As I fully stepped into the room the door behind me slammed shut, as did the one on the far side of the chamber, both unmoving despite my efforts. Then they rose. A shaking shambles, bones cracking back into place until they stood whole and complete, skeletons given life by the sorcerer. I picked up Sir Rivghs fallen shield as they turned on me, eyes glowing a fiery red, rusted blades, spears and maces held within their hands of bone. As one they screamed the deafening shriek of a banshee before charging me, the fight begun. With sword and shield I cut and smashed anything that neared as they encircled me. The army of undead were far stronger and quicker than I had expected, giving reason as to how one of Castilles knights had fallen. Within moments the crumpled forms of five of them laid at my feet, another destroyed with each swing of my blade. A few of their lunges got through, one even biting down on my arm, but I felt no injury nor wound. I did not even feel fatigue as the battle grew on and I beat my sword down again and again on the last of the skeletal fiends. As I stood over the remnants of the undead I sensed that something was out of place. Although not tired or harmed I felt strange, as if something was lacking from each kill, if it could be truly called a kill for the skeletons had never really been returned to life. Regardless, because they had not been alive I could not shake the feeling that I had been cheated.

Onwards I continued through the tower and wondered if the sorcerer knew I was coming. Had Kratos Athma heard my journey or even seen it with his arcane talents? Not that it mattered as I would not stop until I faced the mage and had taken Mellisande from his grasp. I had never faced a sorcerer, but I did not fear him, despite the terrible power he could command, the same power that rose the skeletal warriors and had slain the knights. I would march on and drive my sword through the mage until he took his final breath. One of the next chambers was far different from what I had already faced. A smaller room, round with what appeared to be an altar at its centre. Upon the altar resided a stone carving, a set of pincers at its top with a hole between them that led down into the heart of the stone. My attention was drawn to the doorway beyond though for the door itself was not made of wood or stone, but by a shimmering green light. It appeared to be a barrier and like much in the tower, powered by the arcane. Above the doorway read the words:

A SMALL AMOUNT OF BLOOD BEFORE THE REST FLOWS

I walked towards the barrier and even from a distance I could feel the incredible heat. There was no way that I could simply walk through to the stairwell beyond. I turned on the altar and the words meaning dawned on me. Without hesitation I held a hand over the pincers, took a deep breath and lowered my palm. The pincers sunk into my flesh, digging deeply and drawing my blood so that it flowed freely into the altar. The barrier shook and then began to fade as my blood continued to flow. Deeper the pincers clawed into my hand until the green barrier shook one final time before disappearing. At that moment a second and third set of pincers leapt up from hidden sections of the altar and tore into my outstretched forearm and upper-arm. I yelled, more in surprise than pain, and had to pull hard, wrenching my arm away from the pincers that should have torn my arm to bloody shreds. Instead only the clothing at my arm had been ripped, the flesh and muscle all unharmed, my own blood trickling down my arm the only mark upon it. I felt no weakness from the immense loss of blood, only a heightened urgency to drive my sword into the sorcerer.The altar was covered in my blood yet I remained unscathed, impossible. Forcing the confusion and creeping dread to the back of my mind I pushed on. After another series of trap-laden passageways and stairwells I reached a long room that stretched out from one side of the tower to the other. The walls were lined with empty cages, many mangled and torn open by whatever had been contained within. In the walkway I saw a fallen body and knew without even looking that it was Sir Olyon. As I neared I could see that the knight had literally been torn limb from limb, bite and claw marks covering his body. Whatever had been in those cages had chosen the knight as their prey. The one thing I could not understand was that there were no bodies, nor even any blood from Sir Olyons attackers.I had never placed much faith in the knights of the realm, but I knew that they were chosen for being tough, well-trained warriors who were good in a fight. For one to fall without claiming a single victim seemed unlikely. I took my next steps carefully, checking each cage at a distance, and made my way across the room, sword held ever ready. It was when I reached the far doorway, when I relaxed for just a moment, that I felt a resistance against my boot and the unmistakeable snap of a trip-wire. The empty cages echoed with roars as all kinds of beasts flickered into existence and forced their way free. There were Nightwolves, giant spiders and snakes and even larger were the bears. Some tore at the cold carcass of Sir Olyon, but the rest saw only me. I drew a pair of daggers from my cloak, throwing them straight at the nearest of the coming creatures before turning and running. I could face any foe, but even I knew my limits and when to flee. Forgotten were my careful steps as I sprinted up the following stairwell, the spiders, wolves and bears in full pursuit. As I ran I triggered a few of the traps, spears and poisoned darts soaring past me butI did not slow. I heard one of the bears fall to a dozen arrows behind, then a wolf torn open by rising blades. I turned just in time to see one of the spiders, a foul dark green and purple fiend leap towards me, fangs ready to sink their venom into my veins. With a flick of my arm I cut down the grotesque insect with my sword, its foul blood covering my burnt and blooded cloak. Finally, at the top of the stairs I turned and saw that only one of the beasts was still standing. It had to be the largest though, a black bear that dwarfed me as it rose up on its hind legs and roared tremendously. I stood my ground and waited for my chance to strike. When it leapt, claws and powerful jaw reaching for me, I took a single step forward, knelt and thrust my sword up. The

tip of my blade tore into the bears chest exactly where I was aiming, the beasts heart. With all my strength I held the weapon firm, taking the full weight of the animal until its roars silenced and I dropped it to the floor. The bears carcass, and the remains of all the beasts that had fallen whilst chasing me, then shimmered again until they had disappeared from existence. The blood of the creatures had even vanished from my clothes and sword, leaving no trace of their attack on me. I swore under my breath as I turned towards the next chamber. The sooner I killed the sorcerer and freed his prisoner the sooner I could escape the damned tower that had become my prison. It was then, as I raged of my frustrations that I saw it, a small slit in the wall of the staircase, barely big enough to see the outside world. The upper levels. My targets were near.

I walked carefully on, keeping to the shadows, despite the sorcerer most likely already knowing I was near and coming for him. That did not matter, for I am no assassin and prefer a straight up fight any day. What I could do was save Mellisande. Any fight between myself and Kratos Athma would risk her life in the crossfire and I could not allow that to happen. I am far from anhonourable-knight, but I would still protect an innocent if needed. The further I paced the more I could feel a warmth emanating from the rooms beyond, until the passageway revealed two doors, two choices. I could smell a fire burning, the sweet scent of wine and a womans fragrances. More than that, I could hear the singing of what had to be Mellisande. Her songs were not those of a captive or longing for her lost lover Dargsthal. They were joyous, happy with her lot in life. Keeping my blade ready for whatever I may face I lifted the latch on the door to the left and entered the room where the lords Lady-wife resided. Inside were grand furnishings, beautiful tapestries and paintings, a large fireplace with blazing logs at its heart and across one entire wall was the biggest window I had ever seen, giving a picturesque view of the land beyond. Above the tower I could see the dark clouds were still in place, lightning flashing in the distance before the boom of thunder reached the tower. In the centre of the room stood a large bed and laid out across it, unbound and with the biggest smile possible was the lords bride, Mellisande. Beautiful, thin where need be and curves where it mattered. I could see why Dargsthal wanted her back so badly. He knew you would come, she simply stated as she saw me approach. I had thought as much. It is time for you to return to your husband. To that fat slob who would rather send others to rescue his bride than come himself? He believes you to have been kidnapped. The fool, she laughed. I came willingly. Again, I had thought as much. Regardless, you must leave this place. I am happy here, happier than I have been in my entire life. Why would I ever want to leave? Because if you dont a lot of lives will be lost. You must have seen the bodies of the knights already fallen. Larash, Olyon and Rivgh, they were brave men and they died trying to rescue you. Others will comeand they will fall to this place until either the tower collapses or the only company you and the sorcerer have are the ghosts of those you murdered. I have killed no one

Just by being here you are killing them. Now are you going to come willingly or She lunged at me dagger in hand, but I was much too quick, wrenching the small blade from her and throwing it into the fire. She attacked again, clawing me with her nails, but fell silent as I slapped her hard across the face with the back of my hand. Dragged back it is, I said as I took a firm hold of Mellisandes arm and pulled her out into the passage. She tried to pull away and I did not have the patience for her stupidity, grabbing her long flowing hair and dragging her on ever harder. Mellisande is going nowhere, called out a voice from behind and as it spoke a wall of flames rose up before us, blocking our path. I turned slowly, releasing the womanwho ran to her new suitor. He waited in the room to the right, surrounded by piles of gold, silver and jewels. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, the wealth of an entire nation resided within the chamber, piled high upon finely crafted tables of oak and elm. More fine art hung upon the walls alongside gleaming weapons and suits of armour. That was what Lord Dargsthal had built the tower to hide and protect, his most valued items. In the centre of the room, draped in fine robes and furs to match even the lord he stood, Kratos Athma. He kissed Mellisande deeply as she reached him before turning on me, a cruel smile across his lips. At his feet was the body of the last knight, Sir Larash, head missing and severed at the neck.Unmoved from where he fell I could see that in his outstretched hand was a jewel, sparkling in the light. You have done well Marek Rhihart to travel so far all alone. I have watched you ever since you entered my tower. You have bested all my traps, performing far better than any of Dargsthals knights managed. And you butchered them all. No, they were simply not worthy. Now you are here. You are not one of Dargsthals knights, nor do you wear the armour of a soldier of Castille. Who are you? I am no one. Not yet. So you seek your fame and glory in rescuing the lords lady-wife from the tyrannical sorcerer who took her captive in the night? Something like that. And would it shock you to hear that she left of her own accord? That she wanted to be with me and spend an eternity at my side rather than Dargsthals? Not at all. I had thought for myself before I set out to rescue her that Mellisande could have fallen in love with your power and fled from the lord. So you do not think I have influenced her? Bent her mind and will to follow me to the ends of this earth? I do not care and what you say matters not. She comes with me back to the lord, now. No. No she does not. With that Kratos stretched forth his hands and flames erupted from his palms, engulfing me. I could feel the heat, blinded by the brightness of the fire and beyond the crackling of the flames hear Kratos and Mellisandes laughter. I said nothing, simply standing still, feeling no pain, no searing agony. Nothing.

Only when the flames died did I open my eyes. My skin was unmarked, not a single burn upon me from what should have utterly incinerated my entire being. My cloak, clothes, boots, they were singed, but only slightly. I was unharmed. How is this possible? What enchantment do you possess that protects you?! You tell me, youre the mage? No, I am no mage, I am far beyond that. The Gods watch my every movement and in time I will make all in this world bow to my will. I still do not carefor your words. Mellisande comes with me. Perhaps your predecessors will be able to change your mind. With that I saw the sorcerers eyes darken to a deepblack. He uttered no words nor made any motion, but I saw the effects of the spell he conjured. At his feet, the body of Sir Larash tremored and then slowly rise to stand. It turned on me, the head still missing but replaced with a glowing spectral skull that shone an eerie blue. The corpses hands held a spear as it shuffled towards me, the jewel dropped to the floor. From behind I heard two more sets of heavy footsteps as the remnants of Sir Olyon and Sir Rivgh, emerged through the wall of flames. They were walking shambles, the wounds suffered in life still present. Kratoss arcane skill was the only thing holding Sir Rivgh together, his limbs barely connected with the rest of his body. Sir Olyon was much the same. The lord of the undead is what they now call me, isnt it Marek Rhihart? Kratos taunted. Only because your touch is cold like a corpse, I spat back, readying my sword and Rivghs shield. Or at least thats what the whores of Varnhem say. Kill him. the sorcerer commanded his legion of dead. Try it, I spat back before lunging at the knights Olyon and Rivgh. I slammed the shield into its previous owner with all my might before hacking away at its legs to force him over and crashing to the floor. Olyon fell upon me and caught my side with his sword but the injury was ignored as blood tricked down. Our swords clashed time and again, his skill with a blade undiminished despite the loss of his soul. Rivgh rose again, Larash closing in. Ducking beneath Larashs spear I quickly twisted around the knight and barged him, impaling Olyon on the spearhead. With a swift, hard kick to Rivgh he was upon the floor again, but undaunted by the spear in his chest Olyon attacked. His sword hammered at the already damaged shield and it splintered apart in a shower of carved oak that sent me crashing against the wall behind. The knight quickly attacked, ramming its blade towards my chest. I struck first, but Olyons sword caught me high upon the thigh, tearing through breeches, flesh and muscle. You cannot win, mocked Mellisande. And do you realise you have left one coward for another? I called back as I ducked beneath Larashs swinging fist and stabbed the corpse with my blade. You mock one man for sending knights to kill his foe, yet the fiend you stand with has done the same. That silenced her, but it did nothing to stop the undead. Sword nor spear had any effect and relentlessly they attacked. I tore at the knights, cutting them dozens of times each with blows that would have killed any man, any living man. They fought back too, a dozen wounds covering me as blood poured too freely. The pain was forgotten, a fire within driving me on to cut and kill.

As I sliced off Larashs arm, seeing it do nothing to slow the deceased knight, I realised that only one thing would stop the rotting corpses. Deflecting Rivghs axe I lunged aside and sprinted towards the sorcerer. He cast forth bolts of lightning that crackled in the air and against the walls but they hardly slowed me as they impacted across my body. Again I felt no pain, no anguish, merely a dull feeling of opposition. I felt it then, a fire in my blood, a longing to kill the sorcerer greater than any urge I had felt before. It was the same sensation that I had felt when ending the life of any man, the feeling thatI so badly missed when I had defeated the undead in the lower levels of the tower. I wanted him to suffer and to feel his life ending. More than a need to fulfil an order or to avenge his attempts to kill me, it was an unending, overwhelming desire. Before Kratos or Mellisande could do anything I was upon him and with the lightning still crackling upon my body, a grim smile upon my face I rammed my battle-scarred sword into his chest. He looked straight into my eyes, in shock more than pain. How? he managed to ask, but I did not answer. I drew the sword from his body and stabbed through his chest again and again, drawing gasps of horror from Mellisande each time. The sorcerer then tried one last time, summoning a fireball that exploded upon my chest but gave no burn. I pushed Kratos away in disgust and he fell upon a table piled high in coin. The moment he touched the treasures blue flames leapt up and engulfed him, his screams echoing throughout the tower, Lord Dargsthals final trap to protect his hidden horde. Help me! I ignored him, watching the growing inferno in awe. Mercy! he cried. Bastard, I spat back. Watching Kratos burn, my hunger for his death satisfied as the knights corpses fell and the sorcerers cries died.I turned on Mellisande, cowering in the corner, andshe screamed as I looked to her, terrified of the devil, her lovers blood covering my face. Come with me now or you will join him in ashes. She did not argue but asked a single, terrified question. How were you not harmed? I looked to my body and saw that the flames, the lightning, none of it had left a mark on me. Even wounds suffered from the knights attacks were already beginning to heal. Come on, I ordered, grasping her arm and pulling her away. Remembering the deal with Dargsthal I walked towards Kratoss body and with a sickening crunch severed his head to Mellisandes renewed cries. Picking up Larashs fallen spear I impaled the charred remains alike a trophy and led Mellisande onwards. The wall of flame had fallen and so the way was clear to escape the tower, its defences fallen with the sorcerers death.

Emerging from the accursed tower we were greeted by far more than I had expected. Lord Dargsthal, along with thirty of his order of knights and his aides, squires and bards were gathered whilst the storm overhead continued to rage. Lighting thundered down all around us, the rain about pour. I do not believe it, bellowed Dargsthal. You succeeded.

The lord lowered himself from the saddle with as much grace as an elephant and thumped down onto the muddy ground. He walked closer, his arms held wide to embrace Mellisande, his guards ever present and near. I stepped between the pair, eager to make my point first. Here is your prize, I said, holding the spear and Kratoss head high above me. Now before you can collect either this or your lady-wife you must adhere to your side of our bargain. I do not have your gold here, he blustered. I would not travel the lands with that much gold with me. And I am sure that once you return to Varnhem you will forget all details of our little arrangement and I will find a dagger in my back, I declared as another bolt of lightning crashed down in the woods around us, creating a fire upon the tree it had struck. In that case I am afraid I do not possess your good lady-wife. Back in the tower you go Mellisande, behind the endless traps and deathbringers still in place. Knights, Dargsthal cried and quickly his mounted warriors had encircled myself and Mellisande. I kept her close though and raised my bloodied blade to her throat. I am not threatening this good woman, but if you men think you are faster than my hand I urge you to make an attempt. I just killed Kratos Athma, sorcerer and commander of legions of the undead. Do you think I fear you? Pay him, screamed my captive. Enough, ordered Dargsthal. Knights of Castille move away from that man. The lord hurried to his saddle, untying a bag which he threw to my feet. At my guess there were only three thousand gold coins within the bag and with the coin I already had it amounted to over half of what I had been promised. It was better than nothing, knowing I would never receive the rest from the greedy bastard. Go to your husband, I commanded Mellisande as I lowered my blade and picked up the bag, stowing it away in my pack. She went to him, hugging him tightly and kissing him passionately before recounting the terrible time she had endured as Kratoss prisoner. She had heeded my words of warning well during our descent through the tower. My guess had been right, Mellisande was a survivor above all else. I threw the spear to Lord Dargsthal who then held the sorcerers head high for all to see. The gathered people within that clearing cheered as the storm raged over us, thunder echoing all around. They did not praise Dargsthal though to the lords dismay. They hailed me and I loved every moment of it. Before Dargsthal could react or set his soldiers upon me I found my horse, tied alongside the deceased knights mounts, and took all three, riding into the darkness. The name Stormheart was born that night thanks to the bards in Dargsthals company. They named me and spread word of my deeds in the tower and confrontation with the lord. My legend had begun.

This is but the first chapter of Stormheart's journey. To read more please see the following links:
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