The Hunted

Chapter 1

Tor woke to the sound of the monastry bells, far above his head. He pushed the blankets from his bed and reluctantly heaved himself up and out of the comforting warmth it offered. He dressed himself in his plain, brown habit. It was uncomfortable but kept the wearer warm in the colder months of the year. He tied the old, thin rope around his waist. "Up,up,up!" shouted the priest in charge of the church orphanage. " May the lord praise your work and all that boring tosh" he continued. "Time for another boring day stuck in this old dump". His whinging was annoying but it was also understandable; his family was rich and, since he was a troublemaker at heart, his father had payed the abbot to take his son off his hands.

Tor stepped out through his sleeping cubicle door and washed his hands and face in the basin provided. He had performed this routine many times before: every day in fact for the last five years. He thought back to last nights dream. He had had the same dream every night for the past few weeks and every night they were still just as terrifying. Green lightning striking the steeple of a black tower. Standing on the battlements would be a black knight, a huge sword at his side. He could picture it well. He always could. But this time it had been different. The lightning had seemed to come from the tower steeple and hit him in his sleep with a terrible, searing pain. A kind of triumphant air had hung beside the dream at this point. That was when he entered the world of reality and woken to the monastary bell. It was a strange church; instead of worshiping one of the three gods in particular it worshipped all three. Ballor, the god of food, wine, pleasure and friends. Romanus, the god of work and civilisation. Chaos, the dragon god of dark, evil misdeeds. His priests were rarely seen out of their deep dungeon temple below the main building and when they were they were avoided at all costs. No man alive knew their religous rites but some said it involved sacrifice. Human sacrifice.