An icy wind streamed over the hilltop from the nearby sea, chilling the sentries who stood watch from high atop the castle’s battlements. Below them in the dark courtyard a solitary figure in hood and cloak ducked under a stone archway, shouldering open the door to the gatehouse. “Greetings on this frigid morn!” he nodded to the frowning guard, throwing back his hood.  He withdrew a small leather wineskin, uncorking the stopper with his teeth.

            “Segrid, what are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” Thaddeus scowled, pushing away the skin. “You know drink is forbidden upon the watch!”

            Segrid’s hand flashed out and caught hold and with a violent yank, he pulled the guard forward into his dagger, impaling him. Blood spewed from the wound as he twisted the blade out, gutting him. Thaddeus’s eyes stared at him in horrified surprise then he slumped lifelessly onto the floor. Segrid straightened, watching dispassionately as the pool of blood slowly blossomed outwards from the body, convinced that Thaddeus would not rise again.  He grasped hold of the drawbridge’s winch and began working it downwards to lower it for his Master’s waiting army.  Thus preoccupied, the assassin failed to notice the small page cowering within the shadows of a nearby alcove, awakened by his foul deed.  Hardly daring to breathe, the trembling lad inched along the wall toward the rope that held the portcullis aloft, hoping he could escape the murderer’s notice before he was slaughtered alike.  With slow, quiet movements, he took out a small knife and quietly began to saw upon the taut rope.

            Baron Lucius of North Umberland waited anxiously under the nearby boughs of surrounding trees staring intently at the slowly lowering drawbridge in anticipation. The wind was bitterly cold, but its incessant howling masked the rattle and chink of his men’s mailcoats and the snort of their impatient horses as they waited to commence their surprise attack.  Suddenly, he froze in his saddle. With pounding heart, he watched the portcullis suddenly drop. The page had done his work before Segrid could kill him. The sound of his anguished scream instantly alerted all the guards upon the wall but it was too late!

            Lucius had lost his advantage, but there was no turning back now…“Fire the arrow!” he snapped to the archer on his right. The archer stared at him in disbelief. “Mi’lord!” he protested. “We’re outnumbered three to one! ‘Tis madness…!”

            “I’ve yet one chance at victory!” Lucius growled in the archer’s face. “Fire the blasted arrow!”

            With a grim frown of disapproval, the archer ignited his pitch-dipped arrow in the concealed campfire and shot high, giving the signal for Lucius’ army to storm the walls. Trumpets blared forth from the trees, mingling with the screams of his men. “Attack! Attack! Attack! Breach the walls! Bring Ellioth to its knees!”

            Armed with swords, crossbows, and arrows, Eloth’s knights poured from their quarters in various stages of undress, fitting arrows to the string even as they ran. In short order their long bows and crossbows were returning fire, filling the air with a deadly hail of projectiles that slowly and systematically decimated their enemy outside the walls. Alarm bells pealed loudly, adding their clamor to the growing concert of war, clanging loudly for reinforcements to join the fray.