The tower emerged from the ragged landscape like a bony finger pointing skyward. The traveler reigned in his charger and squinted up at the building, the pre-dusk sun's rays reflecting from his silvery helmet like red tongues of fire.

He eased his unsteady mount with a firm but reassuring caress of the beast's mane. Both horse and rider were breathing heavily, and their bodies were slick with perspiration. A day-long ride had brought them here, and they were desperate with thirst. The man's wine skin had run dry rapidly, and the last reservoir of fresh water they had encountered was several miles gone.

The horse's ankles were bloody from vicious bites of dire wolves. The man had carefully wrapped the wounds with white linen, but red spots still soaked through the dressings. The man had managed to fight the scavengers off with his broadsword, but not before they got in a few good nips on his mount. He knew from experience that the horse's wounds were already healing. The beast had joined him in many a battle, and he knew it to be one of the most resilient and stout-hearted animals he had ever seen.

A thousand dire wolves would not have kept the man away from the tower that he now gazed dreamily at. The weathered building housed a woman whom he gladly give his very soul to be with. Without her by his side, the weary traveler felt incomplete; as if a vital part of him had been amputated in battle. He felt his heart beat faster beneath his steel breastplate as he thought of her. She was a prisoner in the dilapidated tower, but he was confident before the day was done, she would be as free as his heart felt when he was with her. Muttering a sacred blood oath under his breath, he spurned the horse onward, galloping at full speed towards the dark structure.

The beautiful young woman reclined resignedly upon her feathery bed. She felt as if her heart had been place in a lidless steel box as she gazed at the dripping stone walls of her bed chamber. These walls had comprised her realm for almost a year, since her father's return from the wars.

In her despair, she had often wished that Father had not emerged safely from his encounters with the enemy's swordsmen and archers. Yes, it was a terrible thought, but no more than her current predicament. Her father believed her chastity was a trophy to be guarded, like the precious multicolored banner of his regiment. He had seen fit to furnish her chamber with all the rich accoutrements of a queen, but these riches could not disguise what her room really was: a prison. She could hear her jailer downstairs now. He was sharpening a lance that had no doubt tasted deeply of the blood of his enemies. It felt as of her very heart was on a grindstone.

The barred window that she now gazed from was the only outward-looking aperture that the room possessed. There was the oaken door that led downstairs, but its window was tiny and opened upon the barren visage of grey walls.

The larger window, by contrast, presented a breathtaking view of the surronding country side. The great forest beyond the clearing was greener the the finest emeralds, and the water of the brook that ran past the tower was clearer than freshly-cut diamonds. She stood at the window and gazed at these things, but did not truly see them. An image of her true love filled her mind's eye. Her heart ached as a million questions ran through her mind. Where was he now? Was he thinking of her? She wished against reason that her heart was a dove that could take wing and fly to hirn, wherever he may be. The dazzling view from the window blurred as tears obscured her vision.

To be continued...

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