With the sword clasped firmly in his hand Rahkim edged towards the doorway and peered around the corner into the hall beyond. At far side of the hall away from where he had come in there were three skeletons walking down the hallway dressed in scraps of leather fashioned into crude armor, and with rust covered swords in hand. A faint sense of dread seemed to gnaw at Rahkim's mind and fear of being cornered by these unknown figures spurred him into action.

With a lurch he dashed out into corridor and started sprinting down the hallway back towards the stairwell he had come from in the hopes of escaping. Almost the moment Rahkim left the room one of the skeleton's pointed towards him and started gnashing it's teeth as if urging the other two onwards after him.

Fear of these undead grew stronger as the three began to close on Rahkim despite the head start he had previously had, their steps were determined and fast while Rahkim seemed disordered as he frantically dashed around the corner. With the stairwell in sight the fear in his mind abated and his steps quickened as he passed the eight or so doorways between him, and freedom just in time for his pursuers to turn the corner.

Rahkim took the steps down two at a time and a sense of joy started form only to be crushed by the sight of what lay below in the previously empty hall. Where before only rubble and junk occupied the hall there were now countless skeletons stumbling about in a pattern almost as if they were patrolling to some mastermind's order. As Rahkim's hope of escaping from the hall below died the trio of skeletal soldiers finally caught up to him, and one of them took a leap as he skipped past several steps and plunged at the exposed magician.

Looking at the sword wielding warrior in front of him the previous fear resurfaced and a thought began to run through his mind,

'Is this where I die again?'

'No, not here, I cheated death once so why not a second time?'

As the last word rang in his mind the world seemed to pause for a second and the the fear that Rahkim felt suddenly seemed to recede almost as if it was being repressed, instead what replaced it was a grim determination. With a roar loosed from a skull that should have long ago been unable to speak, Rahkim's body twisted as one arm swept upwards towards the falling skeleton and the rest of him twisted to the side. The falling skeleton was met head on as the sword sliced straight through it's shoulder as if it was paper while its own sword stabbed pathetically at the air where Rahkim's head once was.

Before the skeleton could process what happened it's body crashed against the stairs behind Rahkim, and slid off to fall to the floor far below.

'One down, two to go.'

Rahkim thought as he turned his attention to the other two pursuers who watched their companion's death impassively as they hurriedly closed on him. Though the two skeletal warriors seemed to be on the same side they attacked with almost no sense of cooperation as they both hacked towards Rahkim's head and left plenty of space for him to maneuver. Leaping to the side Rahkim quickly jammed his sword up to the hilt into one of the pursuers' ribcage before kicking out at it's leg to send it falling downwards.

It wasn't until right after that he realized how terrible an idea the move was and Rahkim was forced to watch as his sword was torn from his grip as it fell down with it's victim. He watched nervously as the skeleton crashed down several steps before coming to a halt near the edge of the stairwell where it lay motionlessly. Seeing an opportunity the last pursuing skeleton slashed at Rahkim in his moment of weakness and the sword managed to easily cut through the rag like robe he wore to leave a deep rift cut into his shoulder.

Without putting much thought into it Rahkim threw his survival behind one act as he grabbed a hold of the skeleton's sword arm before it could draw back to attack again. What followed could only be called an act of desperation as Rahkim furiously kicked at his attacker while the two grappled for control of the sword. Somewhere between kicks he noticed the world spin as the pair tripped and rolled further down the stairwell as they continued their struggle.

Before either of them really noticed they found themselves halfway down the stairwell wrestling for control of a sword near the unmoving remains of the second pursuer. Noticing this an idea came to Rahkim's mind and before his opponent could react he stopped trying to take the blade, and instead aided his attacked in burying it into chest. He could feel a tinge as a rib broke as the blade struck against it, and a sudden shock of pain as the tip stabbed into his spine.

Rahkim didn't focus on the strange sense of pain though as he quickly grabbed up the fallen skeleton's sword and began smashing its pommel against the skull of the last pursuer. He kept bringing the sword hilt down without pause until bone gave way and cracked under the fifth blow. The small blue flames that burned in the skeleton's eyes began to fade as the right side of the skull crumbled to pieces.

Looking down at the two that had almost shattered his hope of finding out what he was, the absurdity of the situation kept coming to him, but really what did he have to compare to? Suddenly he could feel himself begin to laugh,

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Hahaha, I don't even …. ha, what the hell kind of place did I wake up in?”

Rahkim asked before finally pulling the sword still lodged in his chest free and tossing it to the ground beside him. Strangely enough Rahkim felt perfectly fine as he stood there looking towards his first two 'kills', and felt curious as to why he didn't seem tired.

'Then again isn't it even stranger that I am wondering that when I'm clearly dead now? I suppose this might be an upside to being dead, I might never grow tired.'

Rahkim thought as he stooped down and pushed the second pursuer's body over in order to free his sword from underneath. As the hilt comes into view he quickly grabs a hold and with a tug the sword slides out with surprising ease, and the silvery gemstone turns a pale shade of blue before turning back to normal. A sense of ease seemed to come to him with this sword in hand and so Rahkim coldly turned his gaze to the hall below to see if any of the patrolling undead noticed the fight.

The number of skeletons who seemed to notice his fight was rather low as only around six of them stood huddled around the bottom of the staircase. If the rest knew about the fight they seemed uncaring as they continued their patrols unceasingly. With a weary sigh Rahkim started to move down the stairwell only to stop as a sudden surge of … something came from behind him and for a brief second he could almost feel an axe hanging above his head ready to fall.

Confused he turned, looked up the stairwell, and froze in shock as yet more skeletons stepped out to fill the top landing while a figure clad in scratched up platemail stood in the center. Of course the shock he felt from this figure was due to the fact that his exposed skull, in which the same pale blue flames burned, seemed to have a grin plastered across it. The grinning 'knight' let the tower shield in his left hand crash against the floor before it's voice broke the stand still between both sides.

“All of you, take that lost soul alive. The Master wishes to see why a lone soul would enter his territory after all these years.”

As the skeletons hear his words both groups begin to rush towards Rahkim, six from below and eight or more above as that plateclad 'knight' watched it all from on high. Grasping his sword in hand he prepared to make his last stand but the situation seemed to connect something else as Rahkim's second memory surfaced.

- - -

An old man sat on the floor as young Rahkim sat in front of him waiting patiently for his teacher to start his first lesson. The old man looked at Rahkim with a smile before speaking up,

“The first step on the path to becoming a Magician is learning to tap into the pool of life energy, and then drawing that forth before projecting it onto the world itself. Finding this pool of life energy, or the Life Well as our kind call it, is simple enough as it appears to us like an endless sea of power that gives a feeling of strength and hope. When you successfully find your Life Well the next step is to will a part of it to drain outwards through your body, and then send it out beyond you.

After that comes the hard part, see no matter where a being's life energy exists it will retain a connection to them. The problem is once our life energy passes from our body into the real world it we have to focus to weave that energy into runes, symbols, and patterns to complete a magical formula. We magicians do not wield out magic through brute force or the aid of external factors, but instead we shape our life force into a pattern that fits the laws of the world to achieve magic.

Of course now this might seem confusing to you, but as you advance down the road to becoming a Magician you will come to understand that the world is governed by numerous higher concepts. When one understands those concepts then magic is a simple thing, but of course lets get to the focus of today's lessons.

The rules of the Magician Order, and the Council Tower's history.”

As the man's last sentence came to a finish the young Rahkim frowned and he began to protest loudly …

- - -

With that memory came something else, a sliver of understanding about magic. Rahkim wasn't sure if his understanding came from his past or was simply a fresh enlightenment, but as he looked down at the ascending skeletons a faint hint of joy appeared. Turning his focus inward Rahkim stretched towards a place in his mind where he knew his Life Well would be, but as he drew near what he found seemed to contradict with his master's teachings.

The vast sea of energy inside Rahkim seemed to exude a malicious aura, and from it most would feel a sense of despair but to Rahkim it was oddly comforting. With a thought a tendril of black energy seemed to pull away from his Life Well, and as he turned his sight back to the outside world he found his hand outstretched. Black light flickered along his palm, but quickly began to reach out into the air as he willed it into the shape of a circle.

Under Rahkim's direction the black energy quickly turned into a simplistic circle hovering in the air with a single rune flickering at it's heart. Without hesitation Rahkim spoke aloud the rune's name,

“Ice.”