The Nameless hero Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo or any of its contents. So please don’t sue.

Authors note: This is my first shot at writing a fan fic. Reviews are welcome, praise and flame alike (but be constructive).
So, here it goes…








Harbinger of Doom

Part I


He rode through the gates of the village for the first time in more than a decade. It seemed smaller than he remembered it, but at the same time emptier and more desolate. There weren’t many people out on the streets, and the few that were out didn’t seem to notice the stranger on the horse. “Well, the weather is cold enough to make anyone want to stay in front of a warm fireplace,” he thought to himself.
He was pleased to realize that no one appeared to recognize him; most of the people did not notice him at all.
Derrim caught a closer look of some of their faces and was shocked to see how they looked so… disillusioned. He saw marks of inhumane pain and suffering on their faces, and some of them seemed to have aged many years in advance.

“By the Light, what has really happened here?”
The whispering rumours he had heard down south of dreadful monsters that occupied his home town had triggered his sense of adventure and desires for wealth. But he had not expected to find this.
Even the houses seemed to have aged and cried out for restoration and many of them were burned down to the ground.
He rode up the main street and reached the little square at the middle of the town.
As soon as he saw it, all the memories washed over him like a tidal wave and brought him back to his childhood.

All the years had not wiped out a thing, the cruelty of the other children, the harsh and even mean words from the adults, they were still there.
Derrim shrugged his shoulders to rid himself of the unwelcome memories. There was no point in dwelling on that now. In due time they would know to be sorry.
What he needed now was a hot meal, maybe some ale to go with that so he directed his horse towards the Tavern of the Rising Sun.
There was a boy sitting on a barrel outside the tavern. He looked at Derrim with a shy admiration in his eyes, and a hint of jealousy when he saw the sword hanging by the stranger’s side.

“You there!” Derrim called to the boy. “Do you work at the inn?”
The youngster nodded impetuously.
“Well then, maybe you can find a stable for my horse?”
“Yes sir,” the boy mumbled and jumped down from the barrel and took the reins from Derrim.
“Hey, wait. Here’s for the trouble,” he flicked the lad a silver coin.
“Thank you sir!” his face was alight with joy to see his new wealth.
“You’re welcome,” Derrim said and stepped into the tavern.

Gillian aimlessly collected all the cups and mugs that were scattered on the different tables and united them on a tray.
The fire spread a soft glowing light in the room. Boiling away in the cauldron above the fire was a stew and the mouth watering scent of it made her realize she hadn’t eaten all day.
There were a few of the townsfolk there; they were discussing some matter in low whispering voices. Gillian didn’t pay attention to what they were saying. Altogether, it could have been a quiet day at the inn in the merry company of friends and neighbours. Could have been if it weren’t for the constant threat that were hanging over their heads.
It wasn’t just the foul beasts that lurked deep beneath the church anymore, although that would have been bad enough.

Lately the town’s water supply had for some mysterious reason been contaminated and many had been ill from drinking it.
Gillian knew that Ogden, the Inn keeper, had a supply of fresh water down in the cellar and he did his best to distribute it amongst the townsfolk as fair as he could. But that would not last forever, there were only a few barrels left in store. Things were getting critical.
She shook her head to free herself of the gloomy thoughts. But that was only enough for a brief moment. The images of the cruel massacre that were branded not just in her memory but in all of the inhabitants of Tristram. They followed her through the day, and came to her at night.
When she looked up she saw Ogden giving her a look of concern. Gillian managed to give him a faint smile and took the tray back to the counter where Ogden stood.
"I'm fine," she answered his unspoken question.

The door opened. Gillian saw a man come through it, a face she did not recognize. He seemed to fill the whole doorway where he stood. A man, perhaps in his late twenties, his dark hair had not seen a scissor for quite some time. There was an air of brutality around him and his fair features could not hide the intensity under the surface. He moved in slow, predatory like movements towards an empty table near the fire place. The second she saw the man’s sword she knew who he was.

Not him personally of course, but since the town was under siege by the foul demons, many young men had ventured to Tristram in hope to find fame and fortune and become immortal legends. Once they went into the labyrinth they were never seen again by the townsfolk.
Gillian did not want this to happen to this beautiful man, but she knew by experience there would be little she could do to convince him otherwise.
The man caught Gillian’s eyes and indicated that he wanted some service.
Gillian walked up to him.

"Hello there stranger. What brings you to this far end of the world?" she asked though she very well knew the answer.
"Just a stoup of ale and whatever you have cooking in the pot."
"That’s a long way out for just a stoup of ale.
The stranger looked at her hesitantly as if to find out if she was nosy or just plain friendly.
"If you could arrange a hot bath for me that would be fine, so that I can wash the Khandoori road off my back." he said finally.
Without Gillian noticing it, Ogden came up from behind her.
"I am afraid we cannot oblige you with that good master. You see, our supply of fresh sweet water is running out. We have to use it very carefully." Ogden said.
"Why? What has happened to your water?"
"A while ago the water was mysteriously contaminated and stagnant. We have tried to clear it but it clods up again to no use.”
"And what is the cause of this?"
Ogden nervously licked his lips, and Derrim noticed that all the other men in the room were paying close attention to their conversation.
"Well Pepin, that’s our healer, believes it has something to do with the demons that lurk beneath our church."
The stranger showed no signs of astonishment at this comment, and that confirmed to Gillian what she had thought before. Derrim contemplated what Ogden had said for a second.
"That is alright. I mean to go into the labyrinth and kill all the nasty creatures that dwell there."

"Hah! You will have to master your blade like an angel to survive a minute down there," Gennard, one of the men at the other table exclaimed.
Derrim looked angrily at him and stood up.
"I am excellent with the sword, defeated by no one! You should be thankful that I am here, by the looks of it, I am your last hope," he snarled.
But the men only shook their heads and returned to their ale. To them he was just another one of those crazy adventurers that had passed through their town in an uneven stream in the past few months.
Like Gillian, they had given up to try and talk them out of it.
Derrim slowly sat down again.
"Perhaps you two would like to tell the story of what has happened to this town."
Gillian looked at Ogden and he gave her an almost an unnoticeable look, but Derrim registered it.
They sat down opposite of him.
"You go first." Ogden said to Gillian.
She wondered why Ogden had decided to tell this stranger their story. It had been a silent agreement amongst the townsfolk not to speak about their troubles to someone who had no business knowing.
Gillian had known Ogden for as long as she could remember, and she knew he wouldn’t let anyone come to harm if he could help it.
She took a deep breath and prepared herself to relive the horrible night that would change all of their lives forever.

All had been well until a few months ago.
It was the time for the great harvest feast, one of the main holidays where they would have dances, games and lots and lots of food and drink. The Light had blessed them all with a very good crop this year and the whole town was buzzing with anticipation. Though it was early autumn, the summer still lingered on and the weather was as warm as midsummer.
The feast had been going on for three whole days as the tradition dictated, and it was on the evening of the final day it happened.
It was a beautiful starlit night, and thanks to the recent warm weathers the party took place at the clearing at the edge of the town. Everyone was having fun, singing and laughing together.
Suddenly Brinder, one of the farm hands, froze.
“Shh! Did you hear that?”
The people close to him stopped talking and listened. They could hear a distant sound of horses galloping, heading in their direction.
More and more people acknowledged the sound and it reached Gillian just as she was about to bend over to take an apple from a vat full of water.
She heard the thundering of the hooves coming closer and she was terrified beyond possibility. The sound seemed threatening and dangerous beyond belief.



A few of the people had started to run away to seek shelter, others remained at the same petrified state as Gillian. She saw her neighbours looking confused and disoriented when the party and play so suddenly had changed into terror
She could not move, her feet felt as they had grown into the ground.
The thundering sound was now deafening and seemed to fill the entire universe.
As Gillian stared into the void she began to discern shapes in the dark. Contours of giant horses with enormous dark riders on them. They wore long capes, flapping behind them in the wind. Their huge swords glimmered in the light of the torches, and their eyes shone with such great evil that Gillian grasped for breath.
That instantly broke her spell of immovability and she ran towards the town with solely one thought in her head; to get away from this terrible nightmare.
Some of the riders rode past the torches and tore them from the ground, but one of the horsemen broke loose from the group and started to pursuit Gillian.
She ran as fast as her legs could bear her yet the town seemed to remain at the same distance.
The horse was snorting close behind her and she feared that it would trample her down.

With the huge horse breathing down her neck Gillian reached one of the closest buildings. She threw herself over a low fence, ripping a tear in her skirt and wounding her knee.
The dark rider held in his horse and turned around for her.
Gillian crawled through the muddy ground until she reached a wooden door; she opened it and threw herself in.
She instantly felt that she was not alone in there and a scream began to work its way up through her throat. A silent oink was heard and Gillian realized she had ended up in Readith’s pig sty.

The horseman drew his long sword and tried to poke it between the wooden boards. Gillian sobbed and pushed herself against the opposite wall. The pigs anxiously screamed and squeaked out their fear.
The dark man was furious he couldn’t reach Gillian and in frustration he started to chop at the boards. With his immense powers, it wouldn’t take long until he was through. The pigs stirred and panicked, looking for a way to escape but there was none.
Suddenly the chopping stopped and Gillian heard the dark rider leave. She didn’t dare to breathe for almost a minute.
Then she slowly turned around, careful not to make any sound, she peeked through a hole in one of the boards.

Brinder had picked up a pitchfork and stood ready to face any opponent. And one he got. A dark rider came galloping towards him. Brinder could almost reach the stirrup of the horse. He raised the hayfork, ready to defend himself and stabbed it towards the rider who merely slapped it away with his hand. Then with just a swing of his huge sword, the dark rider had slain Brinder.
Gillian saw other men and women being tied up and dragged away behind the horses.

For an eternity, Gillian didn’t dare to move. She became aware of that there were people crying wildly around her and the sound of the dark riders was heard no more.
She was so tense her muscles were aching.
Immensely slow Gillian crawled out of the pig sty.
“It’s Gillian!” a voice she did not recognize called out.
“Gillian, are you alright?” and she felt arms around her and she could not hold back her tears any longer.
“May the Light preserve us! They rode into the church!” a woman cried.

“They told me later that it was Ogden who held me. I have no memory of it. And that is our story” Gillian concluded and wiped a tear from her eye.
Derrim was silent. He did not know what to say.
“The town’s population was reduced by more than a half. Those who took up arms were cut down where they stood or dragged down into the labyrinth to become slaves – or worse,” said Ogden.
Derrim let the story sink into his mind. He had not been prepared for this – evil.
“Why the church?” he thought out loud.
“We don’t know. But a few centuries ago when the cathedral was built, they also made a labyrinth beneath it. They did so for protection against attacking enemies. If they were attacked, the townsfolk would flee into the church and hide in the labyrinth. The place is full of traps and such. Pepin, our healer, believes that the spring of our well is down there somewhere. A good place to hide ‘tis.”
“This is not like hunting a rabbit in the forest. If you go down there, you will get killed.” Gillian outbursted.
Derrim looked at her.

“Now that I am here I might as well go down and have a look around.”
“Do as you wish. I have customers to serve.” she snapped and got up from the table.
Ogden sighed.
“I wish there was some way I could get her out of here. But everyone that has tried has been forced down into the labyrinth.”
Ogden took a deep breath as if he prepared to say something really difficult.
“When the dark riders came, they also kidnapped our prince Albrecht. After that our         Archbishop Lazarus led a party of the few remaining men down in to the labyrinth. I lost many good friends that day.  Only a handful returned. Lazarus never did. I suppose he was killed also. Do you realize the danger of going down there?” Ogden said and looked Derrim straight in the eye.
“I can hold my own.” he answered abruptly.
Derrim took a deep breath and tried to bring order to all the thoughts and feelings that had brought his mind to disorder.
“I will be needing a place to sleep. Do you have a room available?”
“Certainly. And I’ll get you that hot meal now.” Ogden said and rose from the table.

Derrim ate his stew under silence. He felt the curious looks from the men at the other table, but he didn’t bother about them. He decided that he would go out and take a look around at the town.
Derrim walked up the main street to the town well and looked down. The water had a strange shade of yellow and the stench was nauseating. He hastily left the well.
“Greetings young man!”
Derrim heard a voice from behind and he turned on his heels.
There was an elderly man, perhaps sixty years of age but he looked older maybe due to the deep wisdom that was found in his whole appearance.
“My name is Cain. And you must be the latest saviour to arrive to our town. May I ask your name?”
Derrim didn’t not like the tone of irony the old man had and he answered through clenched teeth.
“My name is of no importance. What do you want?”
“No need to be rude. I am Cain the elder, I know of many things. Fear not to seek me out if you need my help.”
“I thank you.” Derrim spat and made a gesture of leaving, but the man had no intention of getting out of the way.
Cain just simply looked at him from head to toe.
"You bear the sword of a Paladin. Yet you are none, am I right?"
"That is none of your business"
Cain was silent for a moment.
“Do you have a portal stone?”
“I do.” said  Derrim and hid his astonishment over such a direct question.
“See! You need my help already.” the old man said.
“I should not think so.” said Derrim and forced himself past him.
“I hope you do not plan to use it down in the labyrinth with all the monsters. They would come through it and wash over us like a tidal wave. And the remaining survivors would probably have you swinging from a tree for it.”
Derrim stopped.
“And you mean of course that you can help me prevent this?” he said slowly.
“If you want,”
“I see. And what do you want in return?”
The old man’s face grew dark and serious.
“I want the freedom of this town.”

“Come; let’s go outside the town walls,” Cain said. “As you probably already know, the best place to bury a portal stone is in a road crossing where the energies are strong.”
“Yes.”
“Luckily, we have a  crossing here where the Khandoori road meets the road to the church. Ah, here we are. Give me the stone. Oh, come on I am not going to steal it,” he said when Derrim hesitated. Reluctantly, he picked up a small, oval blue stone from his pocket. Cain bent his knees and started to try to dig in the ground with his bare hands.
“It’s no good,” he said and looked at his dirty fingers. “The frost has made the soil too hard. Use your sword to loosen up the earth.”
Derrim looked at Cain as if he just asked him to commit blasphemy.
“By the Light.” Cain sighed. “Sometimes you warriors are a handful. Do you at least have a dagger?”
Derrim gave him his dagger and Cain loosened the earth with it.
“That will have to do.” he said after a while. “I can’t get any deeper, but I doubt any one will come this way and steal your stone.” Cain said and carefully straightened his back.
Then he closed his eyes and held out his hand over the hole he just dug and started to mumble some words. Derrim could not hear what he was saying.
Then Cain took Derrim's hand and held it out under his own.
After a while he considered himself finished and opened his eyes.
"There. Now the only one who passes through this portal is you. No great magic, but I find the simpler spells to be of more use."
Derrim looked suspiciously at him.
"Why are you helping me?"
Cain stroked his goatee and weighed over on his heels, reluctant to answer.
"Gillian, the barmaid at the Inn, you have met her?"
"Yes"
"Her grandmother sometimes sees what is yet to be. She saw in a dream that a man with a sword of a holy warrior would come this way. And here you are"
Derrim dismissed Cain's words with a laugh.
"Oh really? Do I succeed?"
"Sometimes you may wish that you would have lost when a victory is dearly bought" Cain said and left Derrim puzzling over these cryptical words.


Derrim opened the door to the room that Ogden advised him.
It was burning in the fireplace and the room was comfortably warm.
There was nothing there but the bed and the fireplace and a small table to put a washbasin on, but now the table was empty.
Ogden appeared in the doorway.
"All's well, sir?" he asked.
"Yes, I am fine, thank you."
Derrim turned to the bed, already oblivious of Ogden who remained where he was. It startled him when Ogden after a few seconds spoke up again.
"I do not know if I am happy or sad to see you again," he said with a melancholic tone in his voice.

Derrim looked surprised at him.
"Yes, I recognized you. Not at first, I'll admit that. And I am probably the only one in town who has. You are Slyh´s boy Derrim, are you not?
Derrim nodded, not sure whether to be disappointed or glad that his bluff was called.
"I always thought they treated you rather cruel."
"You were the only one who was good to me, Ogden" Derrim said in a low voice.
"I wish there had been more I could have done, especially after Slyh's passing but..."
"Then I was gone." Derrim filled in.
He could see the questions in Ogden's eyes  but Derrim ignored them.
Finally Ogden said:

"You certainly have changed! Back then you were smaller than a new born pig, and now... I can almost not reach your shoulders" he smiled at his own joke. But the height was probably the only thing that had changed. Ogden remembered Derrim as a small child with a strange intensity in his grey eyes. He always met the teasing from the other children coolly, without saying a word for his defence, but Ogden noticed that for every cruel word Derrim heard, for every beating he took, he grew harder inside. What Ogden did not know that it was the thought of one day be superior to his tormentors that kept him sane.
"I do not wish to send you down into the labyrinth, but strangely enough, your coming here has brought some hope to my heart."
Derrim felt a lump in his throat when he heard Ogden's words and could not think of anything to say.
"No I shan't keep you from your sleep. I was merely checking that everything was in order. Goodnight" Ogden said and left Derrim with memories of his childhood floating up to the surface.

He was back in the small cottage he shared with his father. Slyh had just awakened him by throwing a shovel on him.
"Get up you lazy rat" he shouted. "The constable was just here and they need a new grave to be dug. Old Riley has finally fallen into his eternal sleep, may the Light preserve the bloody idiot. Get up!"
Derrim was scarcely eleven years old but since his father recently had become more ill, it fell upon Derrim to do his work which was to dig graves, help out on the occasional hanging and the rest of the "damn idiots’ dirty work" as Slyh said. A steady but somewhat uneven source of income. The boy’s mother had died at his birth.
Derrim hurried out of bed to wash his face and eat a bowl of salty porridge to get out of the house as fast as possible so that he wouldn't aggravate his father more than necessary.

It was on a gusty and cold spring day when Derrim dug his last grave and that was for his father. He was only eleven and everyone in the town expected some one else to take him in. Ogden, only fourteen years of age himself asked his parents to let Derrim stay with them but he pleaded for deaf ears. No one wanted the son of the grave digger to live with them.
Fortunately for everyone in town, Derrim solved the problem himself. He simply vanished from Tristram and was never heard of. Some said he had been taken by a wolf in the forest, and some thought he had gotten all the way to the nearest city in Khanduras,  and made a fortune on gambling.
None of the rumours were true. Derrim, wanting to put as much land between him and Tristram, had made his way east, mostly walking on his own feet but sometimes getting a lift with one of the trading caravans.
One brought him all the way to the Jewel of the Desert, the port city of Lut Gholein. He lived there a few months, earning a few coins here and there by some kind people and stole the food he needed.
Derrim used to listen to all the sailor's that entered the port of Lut Gholein stories of what they've seen. And one day he decided to move on, sneaking aboard a ship that was heading for Kurast. He was soon discovered of course, but the captain was a decent man and let him work on the ship for food.

Derrim liked Kurast. The stone buildings reminded him a little of home and there was an entire jungle outside the city limits to explore and he soon learned the language.
He continued to steal food but it wasn't always easy. The fruit dealers at the market were more observant than in Lut Gholein.
One day when Derrim was weak with famine, he simply went up to the fruit dealers stand, took one of the yellow kordozfruits and took a big bite from it without caring about anything but the feeling of sweet fruit in his mouth.
Naturally the dealer saw what he did and grabbed him.

"I suppose you are paying for that, no?" said the fruit dealer shaking him rather violently because he knew that Derrim was one of the poor street children and there was no way he had any money to pay for such an exclusive fruit.
"Here is money for the fruit Jalee," a voice from behind Derrim said.
“I thank thee, Master Paladin,” said the fruit dealer in his most humble voice.
Jalee let go of Derrim who tumbled down on the ground.
When he looked up he saw a tall man in a dark robe with the hood down. The sun was behind him and to Derrim it appeared that the man was glowing of sunlight.
He lifted Derrim up.
"Come with me," he said and Derrim, thus owing him money did what he was told.


He followed the man through the crowds at the marketplace, and despite masses of people shoving and pushing at each other to get through, Derrim never lost sight of the man that had bid him to come. It was as if a little of the sunlight got stuck on him and gave him a slight glow.
After a while, the man stopped in front of some high, richly ornamented gates, and he waited for Derrim to catch up.
He opened the gates and showed with a gesture Derrim to enter. He did so.
At first he thought it was a castle, laying there surrounded by rich green trees and lawns of thick green grass, not burnt by the harsh sunlight. It was an enormous stone building with towers and pillars.
Without a word the man continued up to the huge door and opened it. They went in. Inside it was cool and the light was dull. Then Derrim realized that the man's glowing hadn't been an illusion caused by the sun but the man was actually radiant with a soft blue glow! Derrim simply stared at the man who just gave him a gentle friendly smile. His skin was dark, as most of the people in Kurast and his eyes were golden brown. His head was completely shaved.
"What is your name, boy?" he asked with a soft voice.
"D-Derrim, master."

"Well, Derrim, you can call me Brother Darius. Are you feeling any stronger?
Derrim had to admit that he did. In fact he felt better than he had in a long time. He was still hungry but it was like it didn't matter to him.
"Good! You see this glowing light is my aura and I used it to heal you. Would you like to learn how to do that?"
Derrim nodded, not sure what he should say.
They slowly started to walk through the long corridor.
"The brothers and I have seen you in the streets. We feel that there is a strong spirit in you and we have decided to take you in as an apprentice."
Derrim just gaped. He had seen a few Paladins in Kurast with their shiny armours, their beautiful swords and even dreamed of becoming one himself. This was like a dream come true.
"But I have to ask you" Brother Darius continued "Do you have the right faith? Do you believe in the Light?"
Derrim had been brought up with the teachings of  Zakarum and the Light, but always thought it all as a fairytale and fearing this opportunity be lost he said yes.

And so Derrim was taken in as an apprentice in the Church of the Light with Brother Darius as his mentor. He was taught the teachings of Zakarum and trained in as well combat skills with the sword and mental practises to use his aura in different ways. With a varied result.
Derrim showed an astonishing talent for close combat, and soon became very skilled in fighting. For every time Derrim beat one of the other apprentices he felt better inside, as if something inside him healed and he loved the feeling of being better than the rest.
When he grew older he became so fast that the brother who educated in weapon mastery could not beat him, even in heavy armour.

On the opposite, the hours on end of mental training to enhance his aura for different kind of purposes didn't give him half the satisfaction and he was always so ill-tempered after such sessions that the others learned to stay clear of him.
Derrim wasn't very religious. He saw praying and other routines at the temple as a way to fight with the sword and never was very dedicated listener when the Brothers taught the gospel of Zakarum.

As he got older, Derrim began to participate in sword plays in the backstreets of Kurast against temple rules. It was a way to really show off his strength to others and the money he made was only a bonus.
He also learned that it was highly regarded to be trained as a warrior of the Light, also known as Paladins. Instead of being humble for the opportunity to serve the Light as a true Paladin would and should, Derrim felt proud when the people of Kurast looked at him and his fellow apprentices admiringly when they were out in the city to serve the community as part of the education.


According to the teachings of Zakarum, a true Paladin would get his calling through visions from the Light to where his or hers calling would be. Some of Derrim's mates began to have these visions to serve elsewhere for the Church of Light and some simply stayed in the temple continuing the work as a Brother.
Derrim began feeling restless. He realized he would never get such a calling because he simply did not have the faith. And the thought of staying in the temple until the end of his days made him feel like he was suffocating.
And so one day he went to brother Darius and asked to be tested in the Trials.
Brother Darius looked inquiringly at him.
"Do you feel like you are ready for that? Have you received a vision from the Light?"
"No Master, I have not. But I would like to be tried anyway."
"The Light will call you when you are ready. You cannot hurry it."
"But Master, I feel ready! I know the Light will accept me as a warrior," Derrim said impatiently.
Brother Darius was silent for a while and then he sighed.
"Alright. I will bring your wish to the High Priests."
"Thank you Master, you will not regret this!" Derrim nearly gave his mentor a hug of joy but managed to control himself.


The four High Priests looked down on Brother Darius, who felt rather small in the enormous hall, from their throne-like chairs. There was High Priest Hakryn, from the north dressed in a blue gown, High Priest Todelan from the south dressed in red, High Priest Ulysses from the west dressed in yellow and High Priest Hrolan from the east dressed in green.
The High Priests came from different temples in their respective quarter and that symbolized the almighty Light being everywhere.
The foremost temple was of course in Kurast.
"Bother Darius," High Priest of the South, Todelan, spoke in a thundering voice that echoed long in the hall. ”What is your matter?"

"I beg of thee your Highness that my apprentice, Derrim, will be brought in front of you for the Trials."
"Has he received any vision from the Light?" High Priest Hrolan asked.
"No your Highness", Brother Darius answered truthfully, "He has been with us for fifteen years now and there is nothing more that I can teach him."
"But if there is no calling from the Light, then he cannot stand up to the Trials," said High Priest Hakryn.
"He was hoping for an exception to the rules. I know he feels restless here and perhaps a bit trapped within the temple walls."
"He you say? This is not on your recommendation, Brother Darius?"
"As I said, he has been here for some time now, ever since a boy. His skill in fighting is close to perfection. I have no doubt he would be excellent commanding a squadron of warriors."
"And how is his faith in the Light?"
Brother Darius chosed his words carefully, prepared that this question would come.
"To be honest, you Highness, I think he puts more faith in the sword than the Light. But that is not necessarily a bad thing. There is for example Saint Amaton, who made great things in the name of the Light with his squadron."
"True. But Saint Amaton accomplished these things with his faith, not despite of it." High Priest Ulysses spoke up.
"I know."
Brother Darius didn't know what else to say but to agree. The plea for his young apprentice hadn't gone as he had planned.
The four High priests exchanged looks.
"Very well, Brother Darius, you can bring your apprentice here within a week’s time"
"Thank you your Highnesses!"

Derrim surprised his mentor as soon as he set his foot outside the door.
"Well?" he asked anxiously.
Brother Darius gave him a stern look.
"To tell you the truth I was not sure whether you were actually ready for the Trials.
"They said no?"
"They said yes, which astonishes me. You have had no calling of the Light what so ever, not even to remain here in the temple."
"Then they must have had very good reason to let me do the Trials. Wohoo!" Derrim cheered and ran off through the hallway.
"I suppose they must have.” Brother Darius said to himself. "But you are a fool if you think it will be a bowl of cherries."

Derrim shook himself free of the memories, and to scatter the thoughts, he drew his sword. His highly beloved sword. The blade reflected a dull silvery glow and it was a beautiful handiwork of some excellent smith. The hilt bore four gems, one for each point of the compass, a sapphire for the north, an emerald for the east, a ruby for the south and a topaz for the west.
There was also room for a name to be engraved. It was said that the Light would bring a name to the sword's owner for him or her to engrave, and that would give magical powers to the sword.
Derrim had not yet had such a vision of a name.
"I am serving the Light by using this sword to clear the church for Tristram. I am serving the Light, with this sword." he said quietly to himself and put it back in its sheath.
Suddenly, he felt all the time spent on horseback the last few weeks, in every muscle in his body and he was asleep before his head had hit the pillow.

A scream pierced through the night and Derrim shot up out of bed and instinctively drew his sword.
There was a dead silence that seemed even louder after the horrifying scream and then another scream was heard. Derrim slowly moved towards the window as if he feared what would be seen outside.
It was a moonlit night, with the moon at its fullest and painted dark contours of the church. For the first time in his life, Derrim was terrified. The eerie sight of the church made him want to just run and scream out his fear but he did not move a muscle. He realized what he was up against and felt small and helpless. How could he believe he would make it out alive? Whatever it was down there would tear him to pieces.
He crawled back into the corner of the bed. Eventually, he fell into sleep, sitting with his sword ready to strike.
There were no more screams heard that night.

Gillian knocked lightly on the door. There was no answer so she opened the door and found Derrim sitting asleep on the bed with his sword drawn.
"Sir." she said quietly and in an instant Derrim flew up with the sword directed towards her.
"I- I am sorry Sir, but I knocked and there was no answer... "Gillian said.
Derrim suddenly remembered where he was and took the blade away from Gillian.
"The screaming." he said. "Did you hear them?"
"Everyone in town hears them every night Master."
"They were inhuman."
"Yes... I have not managed to get used to them yet."
Gillian put down the tray with breakfast she had brought to Derrim.
"Are you planning to go down the Labyrinth today?" she asked.
"Yes I am." Derrim said trying to hold his voice steady and not show to her how frightened he had been.
"Listen... I know Ogden is too kind to ask so that is why I am doing this. Money is a short supply these days, and if it is not too much trouble I would like you to pay for your stay."
Derrim realized that they did not expect for him to come back.
"Yes of course." he said and reached for a little bag and gave her two pieces of gold.
"One silver will do just fine, sir."
"Take it. Who knows how long I will be staying." he said with a smile.
"Well now you can stay until summer she said.
    
Derrim stepped outside, took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the raw autumn air. The weather was the same as the past three months, cloudy and cold. Not on single beam of sun managed to get through the thick clouds.
He was wearing what armour he had. A thick leather armour covered his upper body and a buckler, though worn; it still served its purpose. He could see the church from the tavern of the Rising sun and though still looking eerily, it did not scare Derrim half as much it had last night. He had regained his self confidence and was determined to go in and purge the Labyrinth of all evil.
The few villagers who were out this early morning, barely gave the newcomer a curious glance.
That annoyed Derrim. Did they not understand that he was different from the others? That he would succeed in defeating the demons?
With a snort towards the ignorant farmers he went to the church.

Up close, it gave more impression of a cathedral than a simple little town church. Derrim came to wonder why a small town like Tristram had such a remarkable building.
He opened the gate to the church yard and went up the gravelled walk.
Just outside the door laid a man in a pool of his own blood. Derrim hurried his steps to see of the man was still alive.
Blood was running from his nose and ears but he was still conscious.
"Are you alright?" Derrim asked though he knew this man was far beyond any healer's knowledge.
"The archbishop... Lazarus, he led us down here to find the King's missing son, Albrecht. The bastard led us into a trap. Now everyone is dead. He led us to a demon they called The Butcher. Please, find The Butcher and avenge us so that our souls may finally rest!" The man coughed some blood and then his life was gone.
Derrim who watched the man's life slip through his fingers said with clenched teeth: "Your death will be avenged!"
He stood up and went into the church.