The black sorcerer moved silently through the night. His feet made no noise as he crept across the dirt path that led towards the dark shadow of a house ahead, that stood alone in a forest clearing. There was a light in the library window on the first floor. Coming to the door, he waved his hand over the lock, heard a click and opening the door, walked silently in. He was in a narrow wooden passageway. Several doors led off it and under one of these the dim light of a fire was burning. Coming to this door, he opened it and silently entered.
It was a moderate sized room, with three of the walls covered by bookcases that were stacked with parchments and large tomes. Several chairs sat clustered about a small table that stood before a fire. There was a man sitting in one of the chairs, his back was to the black sorcerer. As the sorcerer entered, the man rose from his chair and turned to face the intruder. The man that had risen had but one arm.
“So you have come at last,” that man said in a quiet voice.
The sorcerer took a step back in surprise, for it was as if the one-armed man had been sitting up waiting for him.
The sorcerer reached to his side and drew a great black sword from a dark battered sheath and took several steps into the room. The one-armed man leaned down and picked up a long, naked sword from where it had lain across the table.
Without any warning, the black sorcerer leaped forwards and swung down his blade in a mighty arc. The one armed-man brought up his own sword in response and there was a deafening ring and a shower of sparks flew over the floor. The fight was on. The two leapt at one another and swung blow after blow, crashing over chairs and other furniture. Above them a baby could be heard crying. It was now obvious that the one-armed was the more skilled of the two. The black sorcerer was driven back into a corner and was left there desperately trying to avoid the other man’s weapon.
“Stop!” he suddenly cried out.
The one-armed man halted and took several steps back. The black sorcerer wiped his sleeve over his brow and the drops of sweat splashed to the floor like drops of blood. The black sorcerer began to mutter to himself. Then again without warning, he leaped at the one-armed man and their swords rang, but this time it was different. There was a snap and a stab of black fire. The sword of the one-armed man shattered into fragments and he fell backwards over a chair and fell to the ground. He struggled to his knees as the black sorcerer stood over him.
“Do what you have come here to do,” said the one-armed man.
Without a second’s hesitation, the sorcerer lifted his blade and with a vicious snarl swung it down upon the one-armed man’s neck.
“Revenge will be taken!” cried the one-armed man.
The sword fell and blood stained the timbers a dark red.
The sorcerer turned and ran out of the room and up a flight of stairs that he found at the back of the house. He searched the upstairs rooms and finding them all empty of any life, he burst out of an upstairs window and landed on the ground below. He looked around. Running out of the clearing ahead of him was a beautiful woman with a small baby in her arms. With a snarl, the sorcerer leaped in pursuit. As he caught up with her, she turned and a knife flashed in her hand. The sorcerer reached out to take it from her, but she sliced it down along the sorcerer’s arm. With a howl of pain, he dropped his sword and clutched at the wound. The woman stood over the sorcerer, but then hesitated. She had the chance to kill the sorcerer, but could not bring herself to do so. The sorcerer took the opportunity, and seizing his sword in his good hand, hacked at the woman without mercy till she lay dead at his feet. The baby fell from her arms and to the ground, crying loudly. The black sorcerer lifted his sword, but the blow never fell. Something struck his in the head and he was flung to the ground. He was on his feet in seconds, ready to attack, but halted, for before him, standing over the baby was another sorcerer. This one dressed in pure white so that he seemed to glint in the darkness. In the white sorcerer’s hand was a might White Sword, the blade of which blazed with a blinding white fire. The black sorcerer turned and fled. As he ran through the night, he heard the dead man’s final words ring in his mind.
“Revenge will be taken! Revenge will be taken!”