Inheritance

The Sorcerer reappeared in a hall of the castle. He needed to be away from the Swordbearers' magic-although he was ashamed to admit it, the forces he had come in contact with were more powerful than he had first thought. He'd been confident that, since the Swordbearers were young, they wouldn't know their power enough to wield it effectively against his experienced magic.

It took about five minutes for him to work off the freezing spell then, shivering, he made his way down the hall of the castle and, muttering mysterious words, took the arrow out of his chest. His shoulder ached with every step, and he chanted under his breath to reverse the effects of his burn. The Magician's meeting with the Lords and Ladies of the Middle Ground had probably reached the end of feasting and was moving on to more important matters.

In the meeting room tables were overturned, food and drinks were splattered on the floor, and well- the place was a general disaster.

Isirien stopped in his tracks. "I sense your presence," he said. "Come out of hiding."

"My, you've changed brother," a female voice said as someone in a black hood appeared. "I can't hide from you like I used to. But neither can you hide from me."

"Soul Thief," Isirien said with dread of recognition. "Why are you here?"

She drew back her hood, revealing her pale and dead features. Her eyes were empty and ghostly hollow. "Allow me to show you. I escaped the tombs where the Three Swordbearers imprisoned me. But the descendants are arising."