Flames roared around her. Tormented shadows writhed on the walls. Above, stalactites threatened like swords of Damocles. Drifting fumes exuded a sulfurous stench. The knightrix wore an enclosed helm with silver wings and she wore silver mail. A leather-clad maiden named Brenna trembled behind her. Brenna’s whitened fingers clutched a crossbow. “Don’t do it,” Brenna whispered. “He’s sure to trick you.” “No tricks,” the master of this fiery realm growled. He dwarfed them both, a massive man-thing with gorilla-like shoulders. He wore a coarse robe with a shadowy cowl. From his sleeve came a brief hint of clawed fingers as dice tumbled onto the floor. The bone dice had pips the color of spilled blood. “Forget your vengeance,” Brenna whispered. “Please! We must leave this place while we still can.” The knightrix turned and patted one of Brenna’s hands.
