Xeron gazed out his castle window. It seemed he was going to have some company. A Wood Elf Sorceress was blasting and cleaving her way through his minions. She was likely just trying to make a name for herself. It was pitiful, really.

Xeron was a well-known Necromancer in these parts. There were reasons for this. He had nearly mastered the art of Necromancy, and now he had quite a large army at his disposal. Given the chance, there wasn't a single good-hearted soul who wouldn't want to kill him. This Sorceress was obviously no exception. The undead he controlled had killed thousands of men, women and children. Adding one more to the stack wasn't going to make a big difference.

She was surprisingly good. She had already killed off at least a third of the zombie hoard that guarded the outside doors. She certainly wouldn't make it inside, of course, and wouldn't survive long if she did. Between her and Xeron were some of the most hideously evil creatures he'd ever created. Xeron, however, decided not to take any chances.

Waving his staff and muttering a few incantations, Xeron sent down a Summon Undead Horde spell. The bones around the area of the spell began to shake, rising into the air to connect. Within a matter of seconds, fifteen freshly created skeletons had joined the fray. Xeron smiled, casting another spell. Raise the Dead created more black energy, surrounding some of the fallen zombies that had already been slain. They would face her once again, fighting just as ferociously as the first time.

Another blast from the Sorceress, however, sent the zombies right back down. Was that a Fiery Convocation spell? Now a tinge of doubt struck Xeron for the first time. Fiery Convocation was a High Magic spell. Only the greatest of Wood Elves used High Magic. As he watched, she cast another spell, crumbling half of his newly created skeletons. That was definitely Banishment, definitely High Magic. It was time to stop playing games.

Xeron gave the signal, sending twenty Carrion down to her. Ferocious beasts, these giant zombie-like birds could easily destroy and army of one hundred well-trained men. Surely they were enough to kill one Sorceress, however powerful she was.

Before the birds could reach her, however, the Sorceress sheathed her sword, thrusting her arms into the air. The wind about her started to pick up, blowing her long golden hair wildly. Small bolts of electricity started jumping about inside the vortex she was creating. The Tempest, another spell he recognized almost immediately. Some of his Carrion fell prey to the bolts of electricity. Others were thrown into each other by the chaotic winds. The difficult flying weakened the few who made it down to her; she made quick work of them with her sword.

Now she was at the door, kicking it down. She was fairly strong, in addition to being so powerful. It was amazing, really. No one had ever made it this far. Sure, Xeron had seen his share of aggressive invaders in the past. None of them had displayed this level of skill, this sheer determination to end his life. Fear was now creeping in on him, slowly but surly. What if he had finally met his match? What if this was the one who managed to destroy him? Although many necromancers looked at death as simply a new beginning, Xeron feared it. He'd seen it so many times, and he didn't want it for himself.

Yet Xeron could hear the battle going on beneath him, and it didn't sound very good. He was waiting, hoping to hear the Sorceress scream. Her death-scream would end it all. No more fear, no more anticipation. Xeron smiled, thinking of this. That's what would happen. He would hear her scream. He would descend the stairs, discovering what floor she'd been killed on. Then, he could use her. Perhaps, when raised, her magically infused body would become that of a Wraith. He already had a few of these ghostly creatures under his command. In fact, she was probably fighting them now. She was more powerful then any one of them, but working together, they would be sure to kill her. Then, she would become one of them, and Xeron's most powerful one yet. This was the fate of those who opposed him. This is what necromancers did.

Even if she made it past them, his last line of defense was a group of twenty Wights. They were true elites among the undead, looking like skeletons but proving to be much greater. They were the fallen heroes of the past, magical items and armor used again for a new purpose. In this case, that purpose was to fight off invaders and keep their master alive. There was no way this Sorceress could take on all twenty of them, and there was no way they would let her enter without being completely destroyed. Xeron was safe.

These comforting thoughts were all too suddenly shattered as his door received a similar treatment. Splinters off wood flew off in random directions as the last defeated Wight was blasted through the poorly built door. Xeron almost yelped with surprise, watching the smoldering remains of his greatest champion slump down into a corner. He didn't have long to look at this, however. If he didn't act quickly, he would be next.

Quickly muttering the incantations he knew all too well, Xeron opted for a quick escape route. If he could manage to cast The Dark Mist, it would remove him slightly from this reality. Once he had attained this ghost-like form, no physical attacks would be able to harm him. His speed would be greatly improved, and he could even pass through walls. All of this barely passed through his mind. What he needed was escape, and this was the spell a Necromancer used when he needed to escape.

"Oh no, you don't," said the Sorceress, recognizing the spell even before he finished casting it. She began casting her own spell. Her speed was amazing! Just as Xeron had started to feel himself breaking free of the restraints of his physical body, he felt them lock back on, his magic seeping away. He should have predicted this. No Sorceress with High Magic went into battle with another magic user without first preparing a Drain Magic spell. Xeron should have thought of this, but he hadn't. Now he was running out of options.

A magical duel was out of the question, at this point. Xeron knew this, even as the Sorceress began to ready her next spell. She was taking her time with this one, and this was his chance. He could not best her in magic; she had proved to be far beyond his ability. She had not, however, completely proved herself in hand-to-hand combat. Perhaps if he could force her into this sort of battle, he might have a chance. It was certainly better then he had now.

Acting quickly, Xeron grabbed for the rusty old scimitar he kept on the wall. It had certainly seen better days, but it would serve its purpose. The Sorceress saw this, his action being obvious, and took the only appropriate re-action. Ending her spell quickly, she drew her own sword. It looked very thin and obviously had some magical properties. Perhaps it was simply the reason for her strength, seeming a bit un-natural for her size and build.

All of this raced through Xeron's head as he rushed at her. He'd trained himself to always try and size up and opponent before engaging in battle. He didn't have time for much, but any little piece of information he could discover about her could be instrumental in her defeat.

Their swords clashed. The Sorceress had been ready, but still took a step backwards at the force of the attack. As Xeron had thought, she didn't have enough natural strength to hold up to a direct blow like that. Enchanted swords were generally adapted to aid in attack strength, and this was no exception. Perhaps he had a chance, now. He had discovered a weakness in what had before seemed like an invincible foe.

The Sorceress recovered fairly quickly. She attacked, the sword aiding her once more. Xeron had practiced swordplay, and blocked blow after blow with surprising skill. He knew how to stand in order to receive an attack of tremendous strength and not need to return that amount of strength in order to hold his ground. This was it. He was winning.

Xeron caught one of her blows just right, twisting his own blade to the right. The maneuver worked, the metal caught, and the blade was twisted from the Sorceress' small hand, sliding across the floor to the other side of the room. Xeron ran forward, knocking her onto the ground with his forearm. His sword came swiftly downward to her neck, about to end it all in one quick swipe. But suddenly, with his blade mere centimeters from her light skin, he stopped.