The warrior spurred his horse and leaned forward, drawing back his curved sword and roaring out a challenge to the castle guards. Steel flashed in the sunlight, catching the bloody rays of sunset as the guards stepped out onto the packed earth of the courtyard.
The warrior was good - and his horse was a fighter, too. The huge mount wheeled and turned, dodging pikes and sword tips easily as his rider dealt death from above. Horse and rider were seasoned veterans, survivors - victors - both successful practitioners of a profession that punished mistakes harshly.
The castle guards did the best they could, but the battle was lopsided from the start. Unmounted and out of shape, the best they could hope for was to overwhelm the warrior by sheer force of numbers. Time and again, one or another of them would set a pike or lunge for the horse's belly to disembowel it and unseat the rider, only to have the monstrous beast read their minds at the last instant and leap aside. As the horse snorted in triumph, the glittering arc overhead dropped like lightning, and another defender's weapon dropped in the dust.
In the end, there were not enough guards. Given the skill and passion of the warrior, twice as many would still not have been enough.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the warrior dropped to the ground beside the war horse, grinning tightly. He checked and rechecked the contents of a couple of pouches belted to his waist, murmured brief instructions to his horse, and strode across the courtyard to the big ironbound door.
The door swung open easily, and the warrior smiled. Reaching into a pouch, he selected a silver ring and slipped it onto his finger. Faint lines of script glowed and pulsed as he walked forward into the hallway, and the metal grew cold against his skin as the ring dissipated the force of the invisible barrier blocking his path.
The warrior paced the length of the hall, then stopped to admire the ring. He nodded his head in approval, glad to find his money well spent. Money not just for the ring, but also for the collection of tales and whispers about this place - mutterings of sorcery, treachery, and riches.
As he worked his way deeper into the castle, the glow of the ring faded; apparently, the wizard-work was placed as a perimeter defense. He picked his way slowly and carefully, identifying traps and triggers placed within the ancient stonework. Reflex saved his life several times as creatures leapt from shadows - in a blink, he spitted the vile forms and jerked his blade free. He spared little time for examination, but it seemed that even some of the more fanciful tales were true; many of the furry horrors that died at his feet existed nowhere else in the world. It seemed as if someone had dumped the entire contents of a mad wizard's zoo into the castle - everything had too many fangs, or too many legs, or both.
The glow of the throne room drew him forward at last, and he stepped through the last doorway into a large open space well-lit by candles and torches. Glittering suits of armor, rich silks, and precious metals surrounded him on every side, and he knew at last the tales were true. Movement caught his eye - across the room, a harem girl caught her breath sharply and started running for the door.
He crossed the floor with a few huge strides, catching her by the wrist as she tried to duck down a hallway. She struggled in his grasp, but he held her tight, gripping her by the upper arms and holding her at arms' length to look at her. Her chest heaved as she fought, and he was mesmerized - she brought up a knee sharply, then winced as her kneecap bounced off his combat cup.
She smelled of sandalwood and musk, and the big fighter ran his eyes up and down her body. Dressed in a few slips of filmy silk and adorned with jewelry, she presented a perfect vision - an ideal, the very essence of the harem. Smooth, perfect skin, nicely curved and inviting body, lush lips, and brilliant green eyes that drew him in like deep pools. His mind wandered for a moment, the spoils forgotten.
He blinked and looked away, reminding himself that the loot was the lure that had drawn him here. With this wealth, he could buy his own harem - and enjoy it in safety. The girl thrashed in his grip, and he felt her sweat slipping beneath his fingers.
He pursed his lips, thinking. The smart thing to do would be to just kill the girl, lest she raise the alarm before he could efficiently loot the place. His eyes roved up and down the room, mentally tallying treasures and deciding how best to carry them off.
