Stone Gate

The heavy stone gate closed with a loud thud behind S'aen. He felt a knife at his neck and a metal object at his side.

"That's a fancy sword hilt, mate."

His joke didn't distract his foe since his opponent increased the pressure on the knife and hissed.

"Where's the treasure, you worthless son of a gun?"

"There's no treasure."

His voice sounded sure of the truth in his words because he spoke truly. There was no gold to match the rumors about this place, and he'd die before betraying the secret behind the gate. The pressure subsided a notch.

S'aen smiled and evaluated his opponent. The warm air at the base of his neck told him the man was shorter, and the force of his grip witnessed his strong muscles.

His rival's sword pressed into his right side; however, his arm didn't restrain him. He reached with speed behind him and yanked the round hilt. To his surprise, it was so light that the force of his pull unbalanced and sent them sprawling over.

S'aen stared dumbfounded at the weapon on the ground. It was no sword, but a piece of metal hollow at one side and square at the other. The club would be useless against his armors.

"Gunne is my mother; however, you're a fraud, with this hare-brained scheme."

S'aen stood, and slowly drew his sword. He advanced towards his enemy and watched him crawl towards his weapon. He let him pick it up, then charged.

He first saw, agape, the white burst of magic coming from the hollow end and then felt the curse through his chest.

The stone gate opened to catch his fall and allowed a final memory: the lament of a frightened prayer through a waft of smoke.

Then it closed.