The strange new moon was at its zenith, making the old neglected keep look even more foreboding than usual. The solitary figure standing in the middle of the crumbling courtyard of the castle cast off his black cloak before continuing to the training grounds.

Once there, the man lit two magical torches at the entryway to one of the many towers. Eerie green light played across a smooth handsome face. Fire sparkled in a pair of dull blue eyes and the man turned, mumbling strange words as he spoke.

Flames flared from the finger tips of the young warrior-mage, consuming the test dummy in a raging inferno. Slowly he lowered his hand to the hilt of his sword. He took one deliberate step forward, then another in the direction of the flaming dummy, all the while increasing his speed until he was at a full sprint.

At the last possible second the man darted to the left avoiding the flames and in a flurry of motions, drew his sword and slashed at the dummy. When his movements ceased and his breathing slowed he walked back across the courtyard of the small keep and regarded his handiwork.

Pieces of the dummy lay scattered across the gravel still aflame. A clapping noise sounded from one of the crumbling towers of the old castle. Grey wiped the sweat from his forehead and brushed some of his purplish-gray hair out of his eyes. He squinted up into the darkness and tried to see the source of the noise.

"Well done, son," came the man's booming voice, which seemed to resonate off the surface of the keep's stone walls. After finishing his mocking applause, he returned his hands to the sleeves of his black robes.

Grey sheathed his sword—which was made out of the bones of a dragon—and spoke. "You're not my father Magistrel. And if you continue with your sardonic attitude it will be pieces of you scattered across this courtyard."

Infuriated, the old archmage slammed a fist against the side of the tower's wall, leaning fully into the green light. "Insolent worm! Remember whom you speak to! I am all you have in this world. If it weren't for me you would be roaming the streets of Flotsam, living like a common thief."

Still trembling, but somewhat mollified, Magistrel brought his temper under control. His scowl gave Grey the impression of a bird of prey sweeping in for a kill. The large beak-like nose and sharp brown eyes made him look even uglier when mad.

Magistrel continued, "It seems, however, that you are not thankful for your hosting these years. Therefore I give you the same choice I gave your father: serve me and live, defy me and die." A gruesome smile split across the old man's face. Seconds later he burst into maniacal laughter.

Grey stood unmoving in the courtyard. Slowly, he unfastened the buckles of his black leather robe revealing his muscular bronzed chest. He had been a squire to his father, a Knight of Takhisis, later becoming this man's apprentice after his father's death at Magistrel's hands. Training as both, he had become a formidable warrior. Even more so with his enchanted sword.

His dull blue eyes went out of focus for a moment, bringing to memory the old saying used by the Knights of Solamnia his father had once told him. "Est Surlaras oth Mithas. My honor is my life." His decision made, Grey locked eyes with the crazed mage and spoke, "I choose to defy you and to live."

His boisterous laugh cut short, Magestril regarded Grey with a stare that sent shrivers up the young man's spine. Magistrel disappeared through the doorway located beside him and reappeared seconds later at the tower's bottom from which Grey had used to enter the training grounds.

Rolling up the sleeves of his robe, the old mage licked his lips and rubbed his thin black goatee. As Magistrel spoke it was as if his words were being spoken from the Abyss. "Time to teach you a lesson, boy."

Silently Grey drew his sword and began walking toward the disgruntled man. His icy blue stare locked on his target, Grey lost himself in the concentration required for both magic and swordplay.

The former black robe was the first to attack. Using the new magic which had been discovered by Palin Majere the old man spread both arms out lengthways toward his apprentice.

After a few moments a thin streak of blue energy appeared between Magistrel's arms slowly condensing into a ball. Once the size of a large melon, the black robe drew both hands in toward his chest and then threw them out toward Grey launching a stream of energy at the warrior-mage.

"Now you will taste my wrath boy," Magistrel shouted. His eyes gleaming with cruel delight as the energy streaked toward its target.

Grey—never missing a step—swung his sword and struck the blast with all his might. The enchanted blade made contact with the bolt. A huge explosion sounded when the two magics struck each other, creating a shock wave which sent both men to their knees.

Grey was the first to recover. Shouting the Solamnic war cry he raced toward his shaken captor. In desperation Magistrel chanted the words of a defensive spell and a gust of wind hit Grey full force, bringing him to a stop.

The young man, struggling against the wind whispered to himself, "Now I will show you my true power old one. Now you will know the fear I have harbored for 21 years." Grey stood fast, appearing not to be affected in the least by the wind. Then raising his hand he snapped his fingers and the gale winds ceased.

As Magistrel looked on—too scared to speak—his delusionary mind saw a different form walking toward him. The green light from the magical torches gave Grey's face a gaunt, deathly look. To the crazed old man, it was Death himself that struck the blow that ended his life.

Standing amid the burning ruins of the castle that had been his home for a lifetime, Grey looked out the gate which was swinging violently on its hinges, and then past it to the world beyond.

Lokki, Eiber and their new companion, Gaias, had been travelling for the better part of a week before stumbling upon the abandoned keep two days journey south of Daltigoth. It was Gaias that had stumbled upon the old black robe, his death face a mask of horror.

"Lokki! Eiber! come here quickly," the urgent tone in the white robe's voice drew the two to him immediately. "I know this man," grumbled Gaias.

"Who was he?" Lokki had to avert his eyes, the look on the man's face to horrific to look upon. A soft rain began to fall from the dark clouds and a carrion bird landed near the body of the dead mage.

"Magistrel, one of the most powerful black robed mages I've ever had the misfortune of meeting. Unlike Dalamar the Dark or even Ladonna before him, Magistrel was a crazed lunatic who killed people for pleasure." Gaias forgot where he was and began to relive the tale of the old mage.

"He was banished from the orders of magic after a fellow black robe had seen him kill a new initiate within the tower walls. He had disappeared until he reemerged during the Chaos War as one of Ariakan's grey robed mages.

"All assumed that he was dead along with many other of our brethren. Apparently he survived and made this old keep his home." Gaias nudged the limp body with his foot before turning away. He turned to his companions. "I sense quite a lot of magic within these grounds."

Lokki looked around the towers then back at Gaias. Eiber had ran off on his own again. "Someone that was very strong in magic was here Gaias. How powerful was this Magistrel?"

The old man's forehead wrinkled and his bushy white brows came together as he thought. After a few moments he finally spoke: "He could have defeated me in a duel of magic, but I would think your skills far surpass his." The old man's brown eyes lit in sudden understanding.

"There was another mage here, Gaias." Lokki called for Eiber and began walking for the exit with his father-in-law. When the kender approached, about to regale the two with several wondrous stories of things he had seen within the castle, Lokki cut him off.

"Were there signs of another person within the castle, Eiber?" Lokki's gray eyes darkened with even darker thoughts.

"Why yes Lokki how did you know? There were two rooms in the north tower. One looked, and smelled like it would have belonged to the nasty looking fellow over there." The kender pointed toward Magistrel's mangled body and giggled. "The other had all sorts of wooden swords and books like the ones you used to carry around."

Both Gaias and Lokki looked up at this news and spoke the same word.

"Apprentice."

Grey had proved quite adept at hunting game within the mountain ranges surrounding the outskirts of Daltigoth. He roasted a large rabbit over his warm camp fire when the rain started. Frustrated, he doused the fire before it could give off an ungodly amount of smoke and headed for the cave that he had made his home for the past several days.

In the middle of the night, he awoke to the voices of a party that was travelling nearby. Silently, he crept out of his bedroll and pulled on a pair of breeches, grabbing his unsheathed sword as he exited the cave.

It took him several minutes before he spotted the trio about a half mile away walking in a route that would take them directly to his campsite. Cursing, the young man took up a position that would best suit an ambush and waited.

Eiber had been the first to spot the smoke rising from the camp fire northwest of the castle. The trio had walked all night to reach the approximate location of the campsite and were now arguing among themselves.

"I still don't understand why we're chasing this guy, Lokki," Eiber's shrill voice made the hair on the back of Lokki's neck stand on end. He knew it was no use to tell the kender to keep quiet, so he figured if he spoke it may keep the kender silent for at least a few moments.

"If he was the apprentice to such an evil man as Magistrel, he is probably just as bad as his master, Eiber. That and the fact that he was able to kill such a powerful mage that seemed to be well versed in the new magic makes him a great danger."

Gaias continued, "And since Lokki and I are strong with the new magic, it is our responsibility to confront this man."

The kender looked mollified for the moment. Then, his kender nose twitched sending his the only streak of blond hair he had into his face. "I smell something."

Lokki and Gaias new to trust the kender's acute senses. "What is it," Lokki spoke in a hushed tone.

"It smells like rabbit," replied Eiber trying his best to imitate the burgundy robed mage, but failing miserably.

Lokki stared up into the mountains above, scanning the mountain for any sign of Magistrel's apprentice. A sudden movement caught Lokki's attention to his left. He inclined his head in that direction, trying to get his companions' attention—but they seemed to be arguing over who was the owner of a small heart-shaped pendant that looked vaguely familiar to Lokki.

A sudden noise behind them caught their attention. Lokki swung around. To late—he was already on them!

Grey had waited for the three to leave some sort of opening. He had been afraid that the red robed one had seen him, but he had been lucky, he supposed.

When their backs were turned on him he pounced. Rushing the three in much the same way he had the straw dummy he used for practice, Grey was on them in seconds. Sword drawn, he realized too late that two of the men were magic users.

An old man garbed in white chanted the words of magic and from his palm shot a white ball of yellow flame. The red robe was not to be outdone it seemed, for just as Grey ducked under the ball a streak of multi colored lightning shot from his outstretched hand hit Grey squarely in the chest.

Dazed, he soon found himself blind as well. The kender whom he had momentarily forgot, had shot a handful of mud into his face using his hoopak. Infuriated, the warrior-mage stood, just as Lokki and Gaias were coming to the grand conclusion of seemingly powerful spells.

A Huge fireball erupted from the white robe while a magical lance formed in the hand of the red robe. Once Grey was consumed by the fire, Lokki hurled the lance with all his might.

All that was left for the trio to do was wait for the fire to die out and scavenge through anything that may have survived the magical flames. To Lokki's astonishment, the purple-haired warrior stalked out of the inferno unharmed and then caught the magical lance with one arm, breaking it over his knee like a twig.

"In the name of the forgotten Gods!" gasped Gaias.

"Did you see that Lokki! Oh isn't he truly evil?" The kender was jumping around in delight, seemingly unaware of the groups dire situation.

As Lokki looked on the man drew a bone colored sword from the ground and stalked toward him. "Gaias, we're going to have to combine magics to defeat him!" This man's power was truly awesome! He found himself wondering how it had been acquired.

Lokki began a chant as did Gaias beside him. The two were almost lost their concentration when their adversary began a chant of his own. As the three came to a conclusion the kender's shrill voice rose above the tumult, breaking everyone's concentration.

"Pyrothraxus!"

Grey broke from his trance with a jolt at the name of the overlord known even to him in his seclusion. The great red had a very bad reputation.

Glancing sideways at the three across from him he gave the great red overlord his full attention.

Pyrothraxus was delighted beyond imagination to find the source of the magical battle to be the bounty of his searches. The Staff of Souls had returned to his lair several days ago. Without the staff the red overlord figured to make easy work of his hated enemy.

After killing a few dozen unfourtunate gnomes whom had happened to cross his path (he had a renewed hatred for the little bastards) the dragon had continued his search of the area of Ergoth where he had last seen the mage. He was overjoyed to see Lokki and his kender friend—along with a couple of appetizers—on the mountainside.

He drew a huge breath, thinking to make quick work of the four, when he was cut off quite abruptly by a bolt of lightning. Grunting in pain, the dragon reeled back just in time to be hit be a cone of ice that froze his skin just in time for a peculiar sword to be driven through his frozen flank. His vision blurred and his strength fading, the dragon fell like a wounded deer.

The three had combined the magic of all three robes quite effectively. That, and the kender's constant reassurring dragon jokes, and soon the dragon awe Lokki had felt faded away. He looked toward the grizzled Gaias who had bit his lip to keep from screaming out, and then to Grey just in time to see the young mage toss his sword at the dragon's unprotected flank.

Now Pyrothraxus lay sprawled against the mountainside struggling to right himself. With a cry Gaias launched himself at the dragon that had killed his daughter. Startled, Lokki had no time to stop him. He ran after Gaias, with the stranger close behind him.

"Die, beast!"

Grey heard the old man howl the words and saw the dragon whirl his tail back. Shouting a warning that he knew would come to late, Grey retrieved his sword just as the dragon's tail connected with the old man, hurling him toward a sharp outcrop of rocks. Strangely fascinated, Grey watched until the man crashed against the cliffside, dying instantly, his back broken.

Turning back to the dragon, the mage was about to release another spell when he sensed an immense power coming from the red robe. His concentration broke as he stared in awe at the gray eyed man.

Lokki had known Gaias was slain before he had even hit the cliffside. A hatred from deep within him welled up as Lokki began to chant the words of magic. An enormous ball of energy hovered above his raised hands and with a shout of fury, was launched at the enormous dragon that had just taken to the air again.

Pyrothraxus, caught completely off guard and unsuspecting, was nearly blown in two by the blast. The dragon was launched five miles before landing in one of the many rivers that connected with the Sirrion Sea.

Dazed, he crawled to the bank and then passed out from the sheer shock and the immense pain of his wound.

Grey kept his distance as he watched the kender and mage bury the old man. The rain beat down softly, making the digging of the man's grave treacherous. As the two placed the man's body within the soggy ground Grey was stirred. He began to speak without thought.

Return this man to Huma's breast.
Beyond the wild impartial skies;
Grant to him a warrior's rest.
And set the last park of his eyes.

Grey continued reverently, not noticing the grim job's completion or the two companions now standing near him.

When he had snapped out of his trance, he regarded their grief-stricken faces. "I am truly sorry for your loss," he saw the doubt on the red robe's face and continued, "He fought valiantly and died a warrior's death. He rests now with Kiri-Jolith in the afterlife."

Lokki regarded him for a moment, then his face softened. "I appreciate your help," he paused, "and your words." He turned and began to walk away with the kender. Then he turned around and regarded Grey with feigned impatience. "Aren't you coming? We could use another hand against Pyrothraxus."

Grey smiled and fell into step with the two. As they walked, the rain ceased and the sun shone. A reflective surface caught Lokki's attention in the mud. Lying there was the pendant Gaias had carried with him. He recognized it immediately as the one he had given to Heather, Gaias's daughter.

He opened it, startled at what he saw etched in the gold. Instead of "Will you marry me," were the words, "Like father like son."

Lokki closed the pendant and stopped walking. His two companies walked a few feet more, then noticing his absence, turned to look at him. The tears dried on his face as the sun shone down. Lokki looked up toward the sky and whispered, "I hope so father, I hope so."