Alone he stood, back to the wind and the heat of the sun beating down on him with its apathetic rays. His polished armor reflected in the light, showing a spider web of abrasions from countless battles. On the chest plate emblazoned with gold, was the symbol of a great dragon. The wind gathered speed and picked up the end of his emerald green cape. It casually swayed in the breeze like a banner. He was exhausted, days of running and fighting were taking its toll, but he was not going to let his enemies see it. Across the bridge stood an army of over one-hundred men garbed in white armor accented with royal purple. Four flag carriers bore the symbol of a purple and black drake against a white background on their poles. Atop the only horse was a cloaked figure but Alaster already knew who he was; the Kings Mage, Apothis. A grim sneer revealed itself under the hood,

          “Alaster, if you give me the amulet, I will no longer pursue you or your followers. But this is your last chance. Otherwise I will have to kill you, take it, and hunt down the others.”

           His voice in itself, was calming and hypnotic, and came off with a nature of trust as it slipped into one’s ears. A chuckle escaped Alaster’s lips.

          “You and I both know that won’t happen; you won’t let me live regardless, and you will not stop till all of my companions are dead with me. I’m here to make sure you and your army never follows!”

          The mage’s grin turned into a grimace of bitter disgust. “Fine, waste your pathetic life defending those abominations. I will get what I’m after soon enough.”

          Apothis raised his right hand, signaling to his archers to ready themselves. In unison arrows were notched and drawn. Alaster reflexively grabbed the crimson hilt of his greatsword; the Cerberus blade, drawing it with total resolve. His gaze locked in place as his mind entered the serenity of combat; preparing for the conflict ahead.

                                                     Not one shall pass me.

                                                                     ***

                                                          One Year earlier

             Alaster looked down a deeply forested hill to a small valley. Far in the distance winding ribbons of smoke could be seen and small dots marked the field around them. With knife in hand Alaster was in the process of carving a bear out of a piece of oak. He was sitting on a large moss-ridden log with his back resting on the flat of his greatsword, embedded in the ground. The only sounds being made were the early song birds and of Alaster whittling away. Dawn had yet to break onto the horizon but the sky was a dark faded blue. The air was windless and cold, morning dew still clinging to the grass; it almost felt as though time stood still. The peacefulness was broken by the approach of one of Alaster’s soldiers

          “Captain.”

          Alaster stopped sculpting the bear and stared at the small camp again.

          “Our scouts report over eighty Inamians occupy the camp ahead they bear the flags of the suspected mercenary band.”

          Finally, we have caught up to them. Alaster thought as he looked back down at his carving and resumed whittling.

          “Any other information?” Alaster asked

          “Yes sir, they are camped in front of a cave entrance in the Cliffside of the mountain. They appear to be mining it. However one scout reported that the debris they have been discarding looked to be of ancient remnants.”

          Alaster tilted his head slightly forward in concentration not focused on the bear but, the report. So was this their destination?

          Still unfinished, Alaster put the bear carving in a pouch attached to the back of his belt and sheathed his knife to his left side.

          “Tell the men to prepare themselves to march.” He announced as he casually rose from his seat. He turned around and easily drew his sword from the ground with his left hand as he walked passed it. “We attack before dawn.”

                                                                ***

           With the sound of steel hitting flesh, hot blood struck across Alaster’s face but did not impede his vision. This fight was harder than he was planning on. These Inamian’s were trained well and both armies were equally numbered. But Alaster and his men were slowly making progress to the cave which up close, Alaster had a moment during the battle to realize, it bore what looked like stone fangs almost completely covered in moss and so time worn one might confuse them with stalactites. While pushing the Inamians back into the cave, it soon became a chaotic amalgam of conflict as the two armies clashed in the great cavern. Slogging in the front-line Alaster cleaved his way deep into the Inamians vanguard. The soldiers that could, followed him through the gap he created to protect his back. Demoralized Inamians that witnessed Alaster’s rampage started to step back and waver. A Semi-circle formed in front of Alaster; no Inamian felt foolish enough to get in the range of his greatsword except for one, who stood three heads taller than the rest. Quickly the towering figure stepped forward brandishing a massive battle axe. Alaster did not falter and lunged forward. The Inamian was ready and locked weapons with him as he swung. The two glared at each other as they both fought to overpower the other. The Inamian he was fighting had traits to that of a bear. Brown fur covered its body tucked under plates of solid steel armor. Here and there scars marked its battle worn hide. It’s face showed a scowl of self-confidence but one could also see in its eyes somewhat of a surprise at Alaster’s strength. With intense drive, Alaster pushed back his opponent and the two squared off. Around them, the rest of the battle moved on but any within the nearby area made sure to stay out of range as these two warriors clashed, else be caught in the crossfire. The Inamian moved first, axe raised to come down on Alaster’s head. there was no time to dodge. Alaster raised his greatsword (pommel first, to the upper right and tip down and to the left) bracing the flat of the blade with his free arm guard. The axe fell and slid down his sword with ease, sparks trailing behind. Before Alaster even could move he knew this last attack was a ruse but it was too late to take action. The beast man dashed forward ramming his massive shoulder into Alaster’s chest knocking him back in the air several feet. Had Alaster’s armor been made of metal and not leather and chainmail he might have shrugged it off. Instead the wind was knocked out of him, barely catching his footing as he landed, boots and blade skidding to a stop. Alaster raised his sword with both hands and regained his breath. My turn he thought, a grin formed on his mouth. Alaster moved in on his target, his emerald green eyes gaining this burning light he always got when facing a real challenge, he craved it. The fervor gave Alaster a burst of speed, one the Inamian was not ready for. It was only just able to defend against his attack. The sound of the clash sung a sour but renowned note amongst the orchestra of carnage; one that temporarily muted out every other conflict like thunder silencing rain in a storm.

           Alaster’s attack didn’t stop. He swung over, and over, and over again each strike more brutal, savage, and inhuman. His opponent was losing ground and starting to back step. As Alaster pressed the advantage he could feel his adversary’s guard getting weaker. He swung with tremendous power horizontally to his left. The Inamian went to guard but could not hold against the attack. It’s axe locked with Alaster’s sword and unwillingly followed its trajectory, overextending passed its point of usefulness. This was the moment Alaster needed. He forcefully stopped his sword’s momentum mid-swing and reversed its course. He had a vision of the bear carving he had been whittling when he was shaping the snout. He had gone too far down and cut the face deep. In inspiration he drew his blade up catching his opponent in the right side of its face. Roaring in pain, the Inamian fell back holding a hand fanatically to its new wound. With his enemy preoccupied, Alaster went for the killing blow, aiming at his enemy’s heart. The sound of flesh and steel; the Inamian had blocked the thrust with its arm. Pain soon converted to rage. It was no longer holding its face. Which, through the blood, Alaster could see had lost an eye from his previous attack. It grabbed Alaster’s lodged blade with its injured arm’s hand and prepared to swing at Alaster with the other that still held the axe. Alaster tried to pull his sword free but to no avail the Inamian’s grip was hard as stone and its axe was closing in. He had no choice; he abandoned his sword and ducked, feeling the wind of the axe’s swing ruffle his hair. A hard knee struck under his chin, sending Alaster flying; landing on his back with a sickening thud several meters away. Alaster used the momentum of his fall to roll back onto his knees. His head was spinning, the world in a dream like slowness with muffled sound. The darkness in his vision was closing in from all sides. He was able to shake off almost being knocked out and his vision quickly returned, just in time to see his rival pry his sword out of its arm and cast it deep into the cave. Its remaining eye locked with Alaster’s.

          With thunderous steps it charged at Alaster with reckless abandon, axe held high above its head. Scrambling to his feet, Alaster dodged a downward blow by mere inches. The axe embedded itself into the hard ground as shards of rock exploded from the impact. As it tried to wrench the axe from the ground, Alaster took the opportunity and struck the Inamian with a punch to the face. It ignored the blow almost completely, focused on the current task as if Alaster was a biting insect. Alaster needed his sword, it was the only way he would be able to conquer his foe. He ran in the direction his sword was thrown pushing his way through the conflict. Inamians that spotted him attacked when they could see he was unarmed. Alaster was not only trained in the sword however. Countering attackers with the skill of a seasoned warrior, Alaster grabbed and slammed his enemies into the ground leaving them on their heads. Looking desperately for his sword he finally found it meters away impaled in a large wooden support beam. A familiar roar boomed far behind Alaster. The Bear-Inamian had spotted him, now holding its axe with a savage exuberance. Blood drunk, it charged Alasters way and the race was on. Alaster swam through the battlefield, moving quickly to his goal but the Inamian was faster and closing in. It almost felt as though the beast man was breathing down his neck as he reached his sword. Pulling on it in desperation; the steps were getting louder. Finally the wood gave way and released his weapon. No sooner had he retrieved his sword, he heard the whistle of the axe cutting the air. Alaster dove to his left as the wood shattered in a cascade of splinters. He recovered and readied his weapon but his opponent was not moving, only looking up. Then Alaster heard it.

           The fighting stopped and all fell silent as the cave bellowed with the sound of shifting stone. “RETREAT!” Alaster shouted as the first stone fell. Both Inamians and men scrambled and climbed on each other for the exit. Alaster was starting to run when a powerful Kick collided with his chest knocking him deeper into the cave. Looking up Alaster could see the silhouette of the Inamian he had been fighting as it turned and walked towards the light at the entrance. A large boulder landed in front of him, cutting off vision of the exit. Alaster looked back and saw a smaller tunnel in the rear of the chamber. it was his only option now. Sheathing his sword onto his back Alaster dashed for the tunnel, feet barely tapping the ground in almost flight. A step away from the opening, a rock the size of an infant struck Alaster’s shoulder and grazed his head, almost knocking him over. The roar of stone became deafening as he dove inside. Suddenly, there was darkness and silence.