Xeron was a very highly noted Necromancer, so no sorceress, or any other defender of good for that matter, wouldn't want to kill him. Most, however, were too smart to try. Looking down, he almost pitied the poor sorceress as she cleaved through zombie after zombie, having no idea that this was only a fraction of what he could really do...
She was surprisingly good, however, so he decided to stop wasting magic on small fries like zombies. It was time to get serious. He threw out a Summon Undead Horde spell, bringing no less then 15 skeletons to life around her. Then he cast the lesser version, Raise the Dead, and brought about 10 new zombies to join the fray. He didn't estimate she'd be able to hold up against these new adversaries...
But what was this? The zombies suddenly burst into flames, as half the skeletons began to crumble. That looked like a Fiery Convocation spell... and a Banishment one as well. Both High magic spells. This disturbed Xeron greatly, as only the greatest of Wood Elf magic users used High magic. She was a greater threat then he had thought, and it was time to start taking her seriously.
He sent down 20 carrion... enough of the zombie-like birds to easily decimate an army of 150 well trained men.... but she threw up a swirling storm, forcing them to the ground where they were easy targets for her other spells and her blade. The Tempest... this made Xeron even more nervous.
He told himself to relax... she had made it in the castle, but nothing could survive the trip to the top. He had his most elite guard ready down there. "She'll make a good Wraith," he told himself reassuringly. That was the fate of most who made it this far... she was fighting some of those who had tried right this very moment. He listened, hearing flares, slashes, and the sound of battle... waiting for the all too familiar scream that would mean her quest had ended in failure.
He waited and waited for that scream... but instead, the other sounds simply got louder. Not louder, he told himself... closer. By now, he was getting more worried. He kept telling himself that he had nothing to worry about, that he was perfectly safe up here, that no one had ever made it through all of that, and no one ever could. He just about had himself convinced when one of his defeated Wights flew through his door.
He practically yelped, but knew that was no image a Necromancer should have. Instead, he decided to play it safe, summoning up The Dark Mist, a spell which would make him impervious to her sword and give him a very fast escape route, namely strait through the wall.
"Oh no, you don't," she said, quickly muttering the words to the powerful Drain Magic spell. He felt his spell drawn away. He fell to the ground, looking quickly for other options. He knew by now that she was his better at magic, and a magic duel would only result in his defeat. Suddenly, he noticed his sword hanging on the nearby wall. She was good at hand-to-hand combat as well, but he was much better then would be thought, perhaps better then her. It was at least a chance, more then he had otherwise.
He grabbed the sword just in time to block what would have been her deathblow. He regained his stature, forcing her backwards. As he had thought, he was physically stronger then her. He might have a chance yet.
She stumbled slightly, then stood back up, blocking and parrying his blow. They traded several blows, until finally he caught her in a fancy maneuver that sent her sword flying to the other side of the room, and sent her stumbling, falling, down on her back. He lunged at her, wasting no time, his blade, right at her neck. Then... he stopped.