Chapter 1
Long ago two lovers lived in the prosperous bastion of Guthenk. Uskal was a warrior in the garrison. Fetha’a was his beautiful bride. Born to a lesser noble household, she met him after he rescued her father from a wild beast in the nearby forest. Together they basked in one another’s love and company.
The day came when the indomitable fortress-city came under siege. Its neighbor, the city-state of Tyras, declared war and within a fortnight its army had Guthenk under siege. Day after day the Guthenkari garrison, warriors of high renown, threw the invaders back. Yet they barely clung on.
For though they were warriors with few true equals, their daily losses surmounted. Slowly their numbers whittled away. Uskal soon became a legend to his brothers and a fiend to the Tyrasians. Nothing could defeat a man buoyed by a love for whom he refused Death’s call. While his body was spent in the aftermath of every assault, Fetha’a’s daily visit in the eve restored the spirit within his ravaged body. Her love and faith radiated even to his brothers-in-arms.
Finally the day came when the besiegers managed to crack open the walls. Guthenk’s walls and defenders ensured its peace for years. The centuries-long peace died with Fetha’a. Smile radiant as the sun. Hair the color of the night sky. Eyes bright with mirth and glee. All of these qualities vanished in the same explosion which ripped the stoneworks open. Pouring through the breach the Tyrian shock troops believed victory was in sight. They were wrong.
A single squad of Guthenkari Guard barred their way. Seven men formed the thin line between the bloodthirsty invaders and the innocent civilians at their backs. But one man did not join the line. Something broke inside Uskal with Fetha’a’s death. Rage replaced resolve. Vengeance replaced virtue. Obsession replaced conviction.
Decades later travelers would marvel at the crimson hue of the flagstones surrounding Guthenk’s main gateway. Though they scrubbed for days to remove the evidence, the traces of Uskal’s massacre would stain these stones until time ground Guthenk into dust.
Not a word was spoken in the aftermath. Uskal’s brothers merely stared at him. His armour coated in the blood dripping from the tip of his sword. He had cast it aside as he collapsed to his knees. Fetha’a lay cradled in his arms. Her eyes lay wide open. Dulled with life’s absence, her hair and face shone with the tears her love wept as the burning rage at her casual death deserted him.
Bearing her across his chest he departed Guthenk. Some say he continues to wander. Fetha’a’s flesh long turned to ash as only her bones remain in his arms. Others say he buried her body under the same fruit tree he rescued her father beneath. A place of remembrance dedicated to the event which would entwine their destinies together for all time.
And some speak of darker rumors…
Some speak of a presence to the north. A twisted spire of stone and bone where a corrupted sorceress rules a court of cold statuary. Her divine beauty matched only by her brutality meted upon her enemies. And by her side a knight. A man who many speak of once embodying virtue and honor. One who now is only driven by a molten rage, wielded in service to a queen whom he may have sacrificed far too much for the sake of love.
The world creates just as many monsters as the knights it uses to slay them. But even in its darkest corners shines the light of love few can truly fathom…
