Warrynt knew the ambush would come as soon as he stepped into the clearing. The thieves had been following him for the better part of the morning. They stayed back, keeping to the trees to remain hidden, but Warrynt knew they were there. He'd been hunted by the best, and these men were far from that. Frightened squirrels and birds betrayed their presence, and Warrynt twice had to stifle a smile as he heard two of the would-be thieves stumble over each other in the woods. Still, he couldn't quite place their number. Was it three or four? Five? Whatever their number, the clearing up ahead would be the most likely place for an attack. He wouldn't have chosen it, of course, but these amateurs most certainly would.

Warrynt paused as the forest path entered the clearing. He looked around and saw nothing. Heard nothing. Quietly, he straightened his belt and scabbard, making sure he had easy access to The Sword. He took a deep breath and moved onward, following the trail into the open area.

Almost instantly, three armed men jumped from forest, one directly ahead, and two off to each side. Another man stayed hidden in the trees, and a quick look behind him assured Warrynt that he was surrounded. Five men. Their swords were drawn. Warrynt's pulse quickened. Slightly.

"Ho! Traveler!" hailed the thief directly in front of him. Obviously the leader, judging from the better quality of his sword "What bounty do you have for us today?"

"None for you," Warrynt said calmly. He watched as the thieves took a visual inventory. Cloak...worthless. Clothes...worthless except for whatever was hidden in the pockets. Jewelry...none. Weapons...ah-ha!

The ornate scabbard and jeweled hilt of The Siege always drew attention. Most of it unwanted.

"What? No gold? No valuables? What about that sword?" The Leader nodded toward the scabbard at Warrynt's side.

"You don't want this one."

The thieves positioned themselves for an attack. Warrynt stood his ground, his body facing the leader, his feet close together, hands clasped in front of him. He intentionally assumed the worst possible fighting stance he could think of... might as well make this as close to fair as he could.

"Let me be the judge of that, stranger."

"Trust me, you don't want it." Warrynt dropped his hands by his side and the thieves inched closer.

Right and Left had stopped just outside of what they thought was striking distance. Leader remained motionless, apparently wanting his flunkies to take care of this cocky traveler.

"Let's have a look at it, then! And anything else you have tucked away!"

"Alright th-"

" Get him!"

Right and Left rushed in at once, and, in one swift motion, Warrynt grabbed the hilt of The Sword and drew it. The motion was quick, almost instantaneous, but to Warrynt, time slowed to a suggish crawl, and grew ever slower as the blade cleared the scabbard. He felt the change come over him, his heartbeat and reflexes quickened, his perceptions sharpened, and his mind began to cloud as The Sword replaced his will with It's own. As he thrust the ebony blade skyward, his voice booming the fierce battle cry that was a harbinger of the carnage to come...

"Behold...The Siege!!!!"

The attacker on the left paused, while Right came on undaunted. Warrynt swung the mighty Siege. Right attempted to block with his own sword, but the Siege sliced through the cheap metal and bit deep into Right's chest. Warrynt felt the Sword rip through the thin leather armor and into the thief. The sensation came not from his arms and hands, but from the blade itself, as if it were a razor-sharp extension of his own flesh.

Warrynt spun to face Left, catching the briefest glimpse of the thief that had been behind him. Although his eyes were on the thief for only an instant, he clearly saw the bolt being drawn into the crossbow. Left screamed and attacked, attempting to draw Warrynt's attention with a feint. Warrynt countered with a feint of his own and then a quick kick to the stomach. Left grunted and backed away. The bolt flew. The Leader charged. Warrynt turned his back to the thief as The Sword sung his arms in an arc, cleaving the bolt in mid air. Warrynt never saw the dagger being thrown by the fifth thief, but The Sword did. He twisted and ducked, bringing the Siege around and thrusting it upward into Left's solar plexus. As the dagger flew harmlessly over his head, Warrynt thrust again, driving deeper. Time slowed even further. Warrynt paused as The Sword pulsed in his hands. (Flesh.) The nerve endings in his arms, his shoulders, and in the blade itself tingled with a sensation that quickly blossomed into pure ecstasy. (Blood.) His fingers and toes stiffened and tingled fiercely. His eyelids began to flutter closed. His mouth dropped open.

The Leader was upon him! He swung his sword in a clumsy downward chop. The Siege detached Itself form Left's chest and shot upward, slicing the Leader's sword cleanly in half. It completed It's arc and attempted to open the Leader up from below. The thief stepped aside just in time, but Warrynt's well placed kick tripped him. Hitting the ground, he snatched up Left's sword from where it had fallen and then quickly rolled to his feet. Warrynt saw/sensed the Archer fire another bolt from behind him. At the same time, the Leader struck. Warrynt deflected the blow with a hand-chop to the flat of the blade. The sword cut deeply into his hand, but Warrynt never felt the wound. He stepped aside quickly and let the Archer's bolt buzz past his left ear, barely missing the Leader. The fifth thief stepped out of the trees, drawing closer, with another dagger poised and ready. Another bolt was already being fired as the dagger flew. The Leader drew back, hoping one of the projectiles would take out the troublesome swordsman. He would have no such luck.

One swing of The Sword again destroyed the bolt as it flew. The dagger bounced off of the Siege's warm, hard blade with a dull 'clang,' and thudded blade-down into the earth. Warrynt snatched it up instantly and with a smooth, fluid motion, sent it hurtling in into the Archer's forehead. The Siege twisted slightly in Warrynt's hands, disappointed that it had not tasted the Archer's living flesh.

Now there were only two attackers left. The Leader looked on incredulously, still amazed at the ease with which the strange man had decimated his crew. The fifth man, the Knife-Thrower, circled clearing nervously, keeping close to the tree-line. Uncertain as to whether he should flee for his life, or stay and assist his leader.

Warrynt, however, was neither awed nor uncertain. Thoughts were beyond him, the chaos of his mind only felt the basest of instincts...kill..destroy...feed. The Leader charged, and, at the last minute ducked down and tried to catch Warrynt across the midsection. Warrynt side-stepped the maneuver and brought his booted foot into the Leader's stomach, then twisted sharply to let another dagger fly past. The Leader fell, and The Siege was upon him. It sank deep into the man's back, pinning him to the ground. Blood flowed, and The Siege fed upon the flesh. Warrynt's animal mind was again in ecstasy.

There was a sound behind him. Not a dagger. Mumbling. Words. A spell. Warrynt spun and faced the final foe. The fearful thief's trembling lips stumbled over the spell, but eventually he got the arcane words in the correct order. He drew his final dagger just as he grew transparent and faded from view. Warrynt drew The Sword from the Leader's back. He brought The Siege around and held it before him. The thief was there... off to the left, taking careful aim at Warrynt's head. Warrynt could no longer see him with his own eyes, but the Siege homed in on the thief's flesh and sent the image directly into Warrynt's mind. Warrynt stepped aside, spoiling the thief's aim, and began to run in the man's direction, but not directly toward him. The thief foolishly stood his ground, certain that his spell kept him cloaked. He realized the truth too late. Warrynt suddenly veered and rushed the thief straight-on, impaling him with The Sword.

The pleasure was indescribable. His bloodlust fed upon The Siege's sensations. Warrynt's entire body convulsed and trembled. His head was thrown back and an orgasmic sigh escaped his throat. His mind reeled. More! He withdrew the blade and thrust again, creating a new wound. Warrynt's legs almost gave way.

More!

But there was no more. The final adversary was dead. There was nothing left to kill. He angrily drew The Sword and held it aloft again, as the blade drank in every detail of his surroundings...searching.... The birds in the air... the insects under the ground... the very trees of the forest... He felt them. He wanted them! He'd KILL THEM ALL!!!! YES! He swung the blade and neatly cleaved a small tree in half. YES!

NO!

Warrynt's mind began reassert itself. It painfully Forced the Siege-Mind down, back into the blade. He brought the tip of The Sword to the opening of the scabbard at his side and, with one final burst of will, he sheathed The Siege... a feat that no mortal man before him had ever been able to accomplish.

Warrynt felt weak...sick. He couldn't stand erect, instead he was bent over, with his hands resting on his knees, panting like an animal. His eyes were tightly shut as he battled the vast emptiness inside him.

I'm dead inside. He thought, A dead man with a Dead Sword.

Slowly the emptiness began to collapse in upon itself and recede. Warrynt felt normal. Or at least as normal as he would get. He stood erect and surveyed the damage.

His memory of the events was perfect, as it always was. He was amazed that he fought so poorly against these five. Their leader had actually managed to wound him! In the past he'd proven his skill against hired killers and high-caliber assassins without so much as a scratch. Still, he supposed he didn't need to be very good to defeat these five.

"Amateurs" he spoke aloud to nobody. "Should've used the archer and attacked from the safety of the trees. Not that it would have made a difference."

He ripped a cloth from one of the thieves' cloaks to bandage his bleeding hand, then he searched the bodies. Besides the broken weapons and armor, most of them carried nothing more than a few coins. The Leader, however, had a sack of coins in his pocket and a large antique ring on his left hand. Warrynt removed the ring and examined it closely. No jewels, but the design engraved upon it was of very fine craftsmanship. It may even be enchanted. Warrynt resisted the urge to place the ring upon his finger. He'd once seen someone lose an entire arm that way. The memory popped into Warrynt's mind. Who was that? When did that happen? The image danced away just as quickly as it came. Warrynt shook his head and placed the ring in his pocket.

Taking a deep breath, he glanced around the clearing once more. These five fought so badly that they weren't worth burying. If this was the best that the thieves of Montfort had to offer, then this would be a very boring visit indeed.

As he always did in a new city, Warrynt wandered the streets of Montfort in a seemingly aimless fashion, watching, learning and, most importantly, listening. Traveling from the bazaars and shops to the slums, he overheard snippets of conversation told him everything he needed to know about Montfort.

He eavesdropped on two men in a heated conversation about an explosion at the docks. Apparently one man had summoned a demon which revolted and caused the carnage. This man was subsequently being asked to pay for the damages, but the summoner disagreed vehemently. Another couple casually discussed the comings and goings of a group of thirteen mages, last seen at a local inn. Others talked of strange creatures haunting a place called the 'Undercity,' and of something called a 'Painlord.' Goblins. Ghosts. Secret Cults. The Undead. Montfort seemed to be besieged by a plague of troubles which ranged from the horrifying to the slightly annoying.

Warrynt continued to explore. He found himself being followed several times, mostly by thugs and would-be thieves who disappeared when they realized they'd been seen. Once however, Warrynt turned to catch the merest glimpse of a pale man-shaped thing scurrying up the side of a stone building and disappearing over the roof. He almost drew The Sword, but thought better of it and continued his tour.

Despite all he learned of Montfort, he discovered nothing of his reason for being there. His quest for his own past had led him this far, but the trail led no further. The wizard Kedron had told him that "Montfort held revelations," but the old man would say nothing more. Warrynt could only assume that someone in this city knew who he was and where he came from. Someone knew the secret of The Sword, and how he came to be in possession of it. He would find that someone and discover who or what had taken his memory. His life. Then there would be hell to pay.

But first, he would need some ale. His hand still throbbed from the wound he had received in his battle with the thieves, and he was beginning to tire of his endless march around town.

He found himself outside a large, oddly-shaped inn, whose sign bore the emblem of a dragon. He stepped inside, and, after hanging his cloak on a knob by the door, seated himself at the closest empty table. The Inn wasn't crowded, but that was due to the sheer size of the building and not the lack of customers. Strangely, even though there was still plenty of room, each of the Inn's nineteen dark corners was already occupied. Warrynt smiled briefly at the waitress as she brought food to the table next to his. When she approached, he ordered beer and bread, as well as some water so that he could properly dress his wounded hand. He relaxed. He had taken enough gold from the thieves to cover a few nights stay. After that, he could easily sleep on the street. Or kill some more thieves. Until then, Warrynt resigned himself to spending a few cozy afternoons at the Dragon's Inn. Watching. And waiting...

Copyright 11/97 by Marc Washington