The storm came rolling in from the east, carried by vengeful winds. Thunder roared overhead. Pike had his hood low and his cloak tight about him against the relentless rain. He was on foot, leading his horse by the reins. The beast looked miserable with its head hanging low, its shaggy mane plastered to its neck. But Pike lead the creature on unrelentingly. Any other man or beast would have hidden away against such a stormy night, but Pike was unperturbed. He and Brother Storm were no strangers to each other.

Pike had left the main road long since, following old and forgotten paths through the hills and forests more by memory than sight. His hand strayed to the reassuring weight of his coin-purse at his belt, packed with silver coins. He always hated being seen with a lot of money, it attracted too much attention. The storm would hopefully deter any potential followers, and cover his tracks. Pike did not fear being robbed, he usually found those occasions amusing. But, after a good haul, it was habit for Pike to make the trip to his secret hideaway.

And he would not tolerate anyone else finding that place and live to tell about it.

The forest grew more wild as he pressed onwards, the old path all but disappearing in the mess of cracked stones and tangled roots showing beneath the floor of fallen leaves. Eventually Pike turned aside from his course and came upon a small cave in the face of a rocky hill. A small brook run parallel to the cave’s mouth, now overflowing from rainwater. Pike led his horse inside and tied its reins to an iron hook that he himself had set into the cave’s wall long ago.

At the far end of the cave was a ready supply of dry wood and other flammables, with which he started a small fire close to the cave’s mouth. He unsaddled the horse and dried the beast with an old blanket, before retrieving some hay from where it was stashed alongside the fuel and filling a bucket of water from the brook outside. He left the food and water before the tired beast and, gathering up his cloak about him again, left the makeshift stable and trekked on deeper into the forest alone. He was certain the horse would be safe from predators where it was. No wolves hunted so close the old ruins. It appeared the animals of the forest shunned the place.

Shielding a clay oil-lamp beneath his cloak, Pike navigated his way through masses of tangled undergrowth, the rain still pouring down heavily. It wasn’t long until the ruins loomed up before him, like a shadow from some distant time. Almost imperceivable in the nighted rain, broken towers rose from amongst the cluster of stone walls and tangled vines. Pike did not know very much about the nuances of architecture, and had never travelled all that far from his usual hunting grounds. Yet at the very least he knew thiese ruins, however old they may be, where very different from the fortresses and temples of the Mornai Empire. Perhaps some scholar or poet out there knew what strange people had built that place and why. Pike didn’t care.

This was his place now. His temple.

He passed through a tall arched gate and down wide steps which went down into the utter blackness beneath the earth. Pike paused to light his oil lamp, before descending those stairs and passing through a long dark tunnel. The place he entered was a wide, cavernous hall, supported by two rows of stone pillars on either side. Set into the far end of the temple was the idol. Carved into the stone wall, was the likeness of a great dragon, coiled into a circle as it devoured its own tail, rays of light emanating from it like the sun.

Pike wondered how dragon would taste. Probably like snake…

He waltzed his way over to the idol, the jangle of silver coins echoing off the walls. At the foot of the shrine, Pike stooped over one of the large stone blocks that made up the temple’s floor. He set down the oil-lamp, its light making shadows dance upon the face of the snarling dragon idol. Taking his purse of silver from his belt, Pike dug his hands beneath the edge of the stone of heaved it upwards. The stone was not a block at all, but more like a lid cunningly disguised to look like the other, immovable slabs of rock. Beneath the lid was a hole dug into the earth. Pike had discovered it long ago, guessing it was made to hide some secret store of wealth in ancient times. Thus he had returned to that spot after every good haul, to add to his hidden hoard which he had collected during his years of hunting outlaws.

A hoard which was no longer there.

To Pike’s horror, when he held up his lamp to illuminate the black pit before him, he was greeted only by the sight of a couple of old coins glinting back at him, the only evidence that Pike’s money had been there at all.

“You can’t be serious…” Pike said to no one. He rolled onto his back, hand pressed tightly about his forehead. His limbs quivered in unbridled rage. His teeth clenching so hard together they threatened to shatter. Someone had defiled the sanctity of Pike’s secret place, and stole his treasure.

And someone had to die.

Suddenly, Pike caught the scent of woodsmoke in the air, so clear that he surely should have noticed it earlier. Forgetting his anger, Pike was immediately on his feet and alert, hand on his sword hilt. Like a hungry wolf he sniffed the air, the scent growing stronger around a small doorway hiding in the shadow of the dragon-shrine. The doorway showed another set of stairs, spiralling even deeper into the dark earth. The smell of woodsmoke lead down those stairs like a tantalising trail. Pike grinned savagely and drew his sword.

Leaving his lamp before the shrine, Pike followed the stairs down into the impenetrable darkness, allowing his other senses to guide him. Deeper and deeper he went beneath the ground, where light and time had no meaning. How long he went down those stairs, Pike could not say. Only the present moment occupied his mind, only the endless hunt which gave his life its purpose.

Eventually, dim light disturbed the unending dark, spilling from what seemed like a cave-mouth to bathe the bottom of the stairs in faint, crimson light. Pike gripped his sword tighter in his fist, anticipating the kill. He halted for a moment to gather himself. Blood needed to be spilt, and there were also questions which needed answering. Pike had all night, no need for a quick, clean killing.

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Sword in hand, Pike descended the final steps and into the red light. He entered into a great cave, its rocky walls uneven and adorned with curious paintings of many animals, great horned bulls and stags, shaggy horses and great beasts the likes of which he had never seen.

The light was coming from a small fire, a tiny flame spewing sparks from its nest of twigs and dry brush. It was small, but its fire was strong enough to illuminated the whole cave. And in that flickering red light, the painted animals on the walls seemed to move about restlessly with a life of their own. But Pike scarce noticed any of that, his focus centred on the figure sat before the flame, hunched over in tattered robes. The robed one carried no weapons that Pike could see, and didn’t even lift his cowled head as Pike stepped into the light, letting his footsteps be heard over the crackling fire. Red light flashed from the cold edge of Pike’s sword.

“Nice little hole you have here, stranger,” Pike said cooly. “And I thought I had cleared this place of all the rats long ago…”

The stranger turned his head towards the newcomer, his movements slow and shaky. Beneath the dirty hood an old man’s face stared at Pike with a single eye, the other horribly infected and sealed shut. The old man’s pallid face split into a dumb smile, yellow teeth showing above and a thin, wispy beard.

Pike couldn’t help but grimace in disgust. A beggar, Pike guessed. Maybe a holy-man, probably both…

“Oh… I beg your pardon sir,” the hooded man wheezed. “I didn’t know there were others here, I only wanted to get out of the rain and let these old bones of mine dry a bit. Please brother, sit, share my fire. I’d share some food with you, but I’ve nothing to cook. You must have done a damn good job on those rats…” The man let out a long, cackling laugh.

Pike’s eyebrows furrowed in distaste. He had quite quickly lost his temper.

“Enough with the idiotic banter, stranger…” Pike snarled. He raised his sword and aimed the tip at the old man, taking a step forward. “Where is it?”

The hooded man looked up in dumb confusion. “Where is what?”

“The gold, you old fool! The silver! All that money of mine. You couldn’t have taken it all very far and still be here. Unless you brought friends along and got left behind. So out with it then, so I can figure out exactly what sort of death you deserve…”

The stranger shook his head. “I’m sorry lad, but you must be mistaken…”

“Am I?” Pike’s anger was quickly rising. “You’re going to tell me that you had nothing to do with it? You just happened to stumble upon this place the same night I come back and find my money gone? I’d strangle you with your own guts for believing I’m that stupid!”

“No, I wasn’t going to say that. You interrupted me before I could finish. Ah, youth is wasted on the young…” The stranger chuckled softly to himself. Was this old beggar mad? Did he not know the danger he was in?

“As I was saying,” he continued before Pike could react. “I did take all that money. But I didn’t steal your money. I simply found some unclaimed wealth collecting dust, and decided not to let all that go to waste. I left a few coins in there, those will get you some fresh clothes…”

Pike grabbed him by the throat, hauling the old man to his feet and throwing him savagely against the cave wall. The stranger hit the stone with a loud crack and slid limply to floor. Pike thought he had killed him before the man reached up a boney hand to tenderly touch the back of his head.

“Well,” Pike growled. “Where is it?”

“I guess you really do want that money after all,” the old man said with a pained groan, clinging to the rock wall as he dragged himself to his feet. “But such violence! Surely you wouldn’t beat an old man like myself, over money that doesn’t belong to you?”

“Like hell it doesn’t!” It was taking Pike all his willpower to not take the mad-man’s head off then and there. But he needed answers. “Every damn piece of that horde was put there by me! The ancients sure as shit didn’t leave a bunch of freshly minted Imperial Griffins lying around for hundreds of years!”

“Oh? So that all was yours then? Surely not. How does a vagabond such as you make that much money? You have a kingdom lying around somewhere? If a beggar like you is a king, then give me a fancy horse and call me Emperor.” The stranger laughed again between pained gasps.

“Simple. I killed men for it. And I’ve killed better men than you for a whole lot less.”

“That must have been a lot of killing!” the old man said, slowly backing away from Pike’s blade. “How could one make that much with just a sword? You must be some famous soldier, or perhaps a thief?”

“Neither. I take the heads of wanted men and hand them in for pay…”

“How ghastly!” the old man backed up against a wall and cowered there, hiding his face in the shadow of his hood. “I know of you, head-hunter. You’re a killer who preys on fellow outlaws. A legendary sword-fighter who lives like an animal in the woods. Such a waste. Such a disappointment. What would your father think if he saw you now…”

Pike’s blood went cold. “What did you just say? Who are you, to be talking of my father? What the hell would you know about me?”

“More than you know…” The stranger turned his face towards Pike. His sealed eye was open now. That eye held Pike’s gaze, froze him in place. The fire on the cave-floor erupted into a crimson blaze, until the cave looked as though it was bathed in blood.

Pike could not look away from the Eye. It had taken a hold of him, dominating his mind until all else seemed like a red blur. For the first time in many years, Pike felt true fear.

“You…” Pike managed in a shaky voice. “I… I remember you…”

The hooded shadow with the Eye loomed large over Pike, compelling him to take a step back. Still, Pike held his sword at the ready.

“Well, what now? Head-hunter…” the voice hissed. “Are you not a warrior now? Go on, take my head. Even your father put up at a fight…”

Pike sensed the blow coming, feeling the urge to move out of the way of incoming danger. But he could not move, time seemingly slowed to a crawl. Nothing else existed to Pike beyond that Eye…

Sharp pain jolted him. Pike’s eyes snapped closed as his back arched, howling in pain. He looked down. A spear had been thrust into his side, blood dripping to the cave floor. The stranger’s hood was drawn over his bearded face, giving a yellow-toothed smile as he pulled his spear free with a savage twist.

Pike’s knees buckled beneath him, nearly sending him crashing to the ground. He clutched at his wounded side, where the spearhead had slid just beneath his ribs, desperately trying to staunch his gushing blood. In a berserk rage, Pike howled and blindly lashed out with his sword. The swing met nothing but air. Pike tried to look around for his foe, but his vision was blurring, the pain making him dizzy. In his foggy vision, all the dancing shadows in that cave seemed like an enemy. Strange and unfriendly shapes loomed around him, looking down at him. Piercing laughter sounded all about. Laughter that had haunted Pike’s dreams since the day his parents died…

Pike found himself running, stumbling, dragging himself up the stairs. Away from the laughter. Away from the nightmare. His sword ever clenched in his hand. He fazed in and out of darkness, only cold stone beneath to tell him when he was conscious or not. There was rain above him, wet grass beneath him. The blood beneath his fingers startlingly warm. He dragged himself onwards. The darkness gave way to dim greyness, a growing light emanating from beyond the horizon. The laughter had stopped. Somewhere, Pike thought he heard voices in the wind, but they were muffled and distant. Even the pain seemed like a memory. For a long moment, he stared up into the clouded sky.

Morning… thought Pike. Damn, what a night. Where did I leave my silver…