[Magus]

Battle all around: low groans, the earth shaking. A huge hammer descending; he jumps out of the way. He slices out, the verbeeg falls to the ground. An axe from the left; he rolls aside. He hears his companions around him; the fight is desperate. Somebody rushes up to him, a wizard.

“Gil, let’s go! The way’s clear!”

He glances at himself. He is covered in blood, bright crimson intermingling freely with dull black wherever he looks. How much of it is his own, he can’t say.

“COME ON!” the man in front of him yells, tugging him forward by his free arm. He looks up, and steps back involuntarily. The man has no face. Revolted, he slashes out, gutting the aberration. The thing’s last words fill his ears. “I thought…we were…friends.” Suddenly he is thrown forward. The world is spinning. When it stops, he sees his back lying on the ground in front of him. It has no head. Everything is turning red, so red…


Gilthanas awoke with a start. He drew his katana and glanced around rapidly. Nothing. He gasped for breath. He realized he was covered in sweat. He looked around, calming himself. Everything was as it should be. He had stopped to rest at the edge of the forest, though the setup could hardly be called a camp. He had no fire; light attracted attention, and he could see well enough in the faint starlight. Likewise, he had no bedroll; he traveled light. It was a cold night by any standards; it had been a long winter, though it finally seemed to be relenting. Yet, for some reason, the cold didn’t bother him. Drawing his cloak about him was more than sufficient for his needs, even while sleeping.

He sheathed his weapon and sat back down against the tree, but sleep wouldn’t come. He left, drawing his new bow, becoming one with the night as he slipped deeper into the forest, silent and unseen.