A/N: I changed the wizard's name from William Talsbane to Jar'baln because William isn't a very evil name. Anyway, hope you enjoy.
Gaia was violently thrown to the ground. She struggled to her feet as the nasty demonic creature, Jar'baln had called them Orcs, in front of her tugged the chains that bound her wrist. She let out an anguished cry of despair as the pitted metal dug into the raw skin. There were three other monstrosities with her. Their stench was nearly overpowering and Gaia was sick with it.
She had been drug across the countryside for the last three days. And the week before that she had been in 'intensive training' with Jar'baln. He had drilled her in her new lineage, her family, and her name. She was now Gaia Heartstaff, born of Bree. Her mother was Lareen Heartstaff, a local woman who worked in the bakery. Her father was Jonas Heartstaff, a shepherd. She was an only child and had left Bree to visit her aunt and uncle.
She was traveling with her mother and father and they were ambushed by the party of Orcs. She had been traveling with the Orcs so long she had lost track of time and didn't know where her aunt and uncle lived, she had been dependant on her father to lead them there.
She had learned quickly and well, careful to avoid misstep. Jar'baln was not a patient teacher. She had long forgotten the theory of the entire thing being a nightmare. She didn't know what she believed, but she knew she wanted to live. She let out another yell as she tripped over something. She rose herself wearily, bracing herself the inevitable lash of a whip. When she didn't feel it, she looked down at what she had fallen over, it was the lead Orc. She scrambled off of it. There was a large axe protruding from its chest. Pandemonium ensued as the remaining Orcs attempted to seek out the attacker. Two arrows bloomed in the chest of one of them. Suddenly two men leapt out of the under brush and attacked last two, cutting them down with an expert thrust of the sword.
Gaia watched the entire episode with a grim sense of justice, even relief. The nightmares were dead, the last remaining influence of Jar'baln. She winced as a burning pain lanced through her chest. Her hand flew to her shirt, and withdrew the necklace that Jar'baln had given her.
"You are never free of me, my pet." A sinister voice whispered in her mind. She shivered. Then, a shadow fell across her. She looked up quickly. A man looked down at her. He had tired blue eyes and his face held a quiet dignity. He was holding a great sword that was stained with black blood of the Orcs. He looked at her with a mixture of worry and suspicion. She relized what she must look like to him.
Her once silky black hair now hung in greasy clumps of tangles and snags. Her pale face was bruised and covered with mud, tear trails made pale stripes down her sunken cheeks. Her clothes were bloody and ripped. She huddled on the ground, her wrist still bound.
Gaia struggled to her feet to face the man, eye to eye, but her legs refused to hold her and the ground rushed up to meet her.