Prolouge

Only the beginning

...Greywyn's blade glinted in the dim greenish light of the welknyd stones. The bedraggled assassin was crouched behind a pillar, listening to the footfalls of the bandits making their way through the main burial chamber. One hand was clutching his short sword, the other nursing the blood-soaked wound on his side. He had broken the cardinal rule of the assassin by allowing his presence to be discovered. The assault into the Aylied ruin had been going according to plan. Slaying the first bandits with his trusty bow was easy for the master of shadows, and Greywyn had been able to sneak into the second level of the ancient complex with no further resistance.
    But then, on a ledge high above the burial chamber, he had missed it: a simple pressure plate hidden in the white stone rock. Using his uncanny dodging abilities, Greywyn had rolled away from the hail of darts from the long unused trap, but it was too late; the damage was done. The bandits that had set up camp here heard the the stone plate rumble to life, and his position was compromised. The bandits loosed a volley of arrows, and one found its mark in Greywyn's side. pain exploded from the wound, and Greywyn fell two stories to the ground.
    Fortunately, he had tumbled as he fell and was on his feet a moment after he landed, just as his master had taught him so many years ago. The bandits dropped their bows and drew their blades, looking for the intruder. Using his shadow techniques, Greywyn did the only thing he could-he hid in the darkness and hoped the bandits couldn't find him. But now they were drawing closer , and Greywyn knew this was the time to face them. Giving a silent prayer to the Night Mother, he stood and yelled a battle cry as he prepared to meet his fate....