Mekal of the Black Hand stood outside his general's door with a fear he never felt before.  Fear was uncommon to such a man that was he.  He had served the Dark One for 20 years.  He fought beside the dead on his Master's want.  Took towns by the 100's and took lives by the 1000's.  He had his bad days.  Twelve days in the desert Samo with scarcely any water and the smell of his dead companions to keep him comfort was a memory that he could not forget.  But that was nothing.  What he saw tonight was something, something that would take more time then his body would give him to forget.
    Minkrekrin was his general, and she was gorgeous, if you got past her self absorbed, hateful, scornful, short-tempered personality.  He was given the position of her personal guard.  He had followed her into Samo.  He held her victories in his hands and had seen her sorcery.  She was a great Sorceress, a wizard of unmatched talent among her peers.  She was stronger than the other generals, but she was female.  And because of that she was doomed to bite at their heels.
    Her sorcery was of the elements wind and water.  She could do some amazing tricks.  In Samo, when he finally was regrouped with the main force she made a lake to quench their thirst.  Amazing site it was to see water burst from the ground as it did.  She was also a solid mind reader.  In Samo's capital she was able to take control of all their leaders minds and learned so much about Samo's allegiance with Karn that she got her current task.  The Dark one loved her work it seemed, because she was sent to take care of Karn.  A mission that was about to be in the works, because here they stood on the border, waiting for the call to march forward.
    But in the end, it was not his job to decide who was the best.  Who went to do what.  Where to strike.  He was a lowly guardsman.  He did not understand magic, sorcery.  It was beyond his grasp.  He did understand that what he saw today meant a whole new chapter in his book and quite possibly, the last.
    It all started with a blast of wind that stirred the snow beneath them and a thunder crack.  All of the dead, who usually just stood and stared in any direction, began to moan.  A lot of them fell over and even more began to fall apart.  A black light was coming from their eyes and they seemed in pain, which is quite odd considering the amount of them Mekal had seen fight with only two limbs left.  He didn't think that they could feel pain.
    After staring at the dead for a full minute he had turned around to see his general's tent in shreds.  There Minkrekrin stood, quite naked and quite angry.  Before her was the headless body of one of his fellow guardsmen, one that he did not know the name to.  He had an awkward name, because he was from the horrible heated sands of Samo.  He did not trust any of the guards from the newly acquired allies.  They spoke in a strange accent and kept to themselves.  He had rather sleep with the stinking dead then talk to those dark men.
    Minkrekrin hands were bloody and her body seemed, wrinkled and aged.  Her face portrayed her anger and just when he thought that she would explode from all of that anger, she turned and picked up a bloody sword, that obviously was the culprit to the beheading.  With the sword in her hand she began to curse wildly and strike the corpse.  She screamed and by the time she fell from exhaustion, the body was completely unrecognizable. 
    Him and another ten guardsmen went and built her another tent. After that they dared to enter what was her old tent and moved her stuff, not daring to touch what was left of the corpse or Minkrekrin.  She looked dead there, lying on the carpeted snow.  No steam rose from her withered crimson lips.  Her hands still held the sword.  Her fingers seemed like a tight knot around the hilt of the blade.  But besides the slight raise and fall of her chest, she seemed altogether dead and cold.  Her once tight seamless body now seemed broken and withered beyond her years.  She couldn't have been any older than 25 years, but there she laid staring into the star filled sky with her mouth bent into an expression, he knew not how to describe.
    After they moved everything they stood around her.  The corpses were standing again and staring when she finally stood up.  She didn't look as old as she did moments before but the act she did still lay freshly on her gray and once peach body.  She told them to get her clothes and once she was in her tent she asked for a guard to come in and assist her.
    Seven guards had assisted her before he was called and there he stood staring at the entrance of her tent.  He knew what he would see when he entered.  Seven corpses.  All had been killed in different ways.  One had a wound right where his heart laid, another had a broken neck, a third had a sword driven through his skull and so on went all the rest.
    "Don't be afraid," said his general calmly.  A new hoarseness blanketed her once soft and caressing voice.  She motioned him to sit and he did.  "I grow tired.  I do not have the patience for such magic and I fear you know your fate," She said briskly and quite tiredly.
    "Your gracefulness, I know that a great weight sits upon your shoulders and I am but a tool in your new discovery.  Why do you kill your men?  They deserve to die defending you, not by you, milady."
    "I am in need of a new stronger magic to assist me.  I know only that it resides in the flesh."
    "The dead are plenty and they are indeed flesh."  Mekal looked down fearfully.  He didn't know why he counseled the great sorceress wizard Minkrekrin, his general, his master, but he did know that he did not want to die like the seven before him.
    "Yes, the dead are indeed flesh, but I am afraid they lack a soul and there in lies the power that I seek.  I did find it the first time, but it was too much and it…  I could not control it.  I am tired, and now I must try again, for I must find the power."
    "Might I make a suggestion, all powerful one."
    Minkrekrin gave a hearty laugh at the last complement and decided that she would hear his words.  "Give it your best shot."
    "Do you know of the great gray wolves of west Murt?"
    "Of course I do.  Kark has one as a pet."
    "Yes well I grew up in Murt and once as a child I had gotten lost in forest with my best friend at the time, Tret.  Me and him wandered for hours on end looking for our village when we came upon one of the wolves."
    "Uh, huh."
    "It attacked Tret first.  It killed him in an instant.  Tret was a large kid and he was a little slower than I was.  The wolf went at him immediately shredded and tore at him, trying to swallow him whole.  I couldn't run.  I was spellbound by the site and I just sat there watching the wolf eat Tret.  There he was engulfing down my best friend when he took too much of him and began choking.  The wolf died and I lived.  All because it was too greedy."
    A sharp smile ran across Minkrekrin's dark brooding face.  She knew that what he told her was not about him, but a folk lore in that area.  It didn't matter she got the point.  "You mean to tell me that I should try to only take a little of this power.  A slower death maybe?"
Mekal suddenly felt that he just might live.  Maybe she would think of him as a wise soldier and he would get to live on!  She could use one of the other stupid ones, probably a Samoan!  "I know nothing of magic," He finally replied, "but I do know about the nature of things."
    "Yes, indeed you do.  You have proven your worth to me, so you shall be the perfect one to die for my cause!"  Immediately she rose and took a small dagger from underneath her clothing and slid it across his throat.  Mekal began to choke and fell to the ground, off the seat.  He laid there with his hands across his neck trying to keep the blood where it belonged.  He tried to speak to his master.  But all that came out were gurgling noises.  He began to have trouble breathing and blood was pouring out of his mouth now.  He could see an enlarging puddle of crimson spread over the floor of the tent.  A soft cloud of heated air arose from the blood.  He turned his stare upon Minkrekrin's face.  He noticed that no steam was coming from her mouth as she breathed.
    Minkrekrin bent over and positioned Mekal on his back.  She put one hand on her medallion and another on his wound.  Before everything went dark, he heard her say, "Now don't die too quick."
    Mekal was suddenly above his body.  Above Minkrekrin's back.  He could see everything in some strange haze.  He decided that he wanted to go up, he could feel some warmth there and there he headed, but suddenly he was being sucked back down.  He began to feel like he was fading.
Nothing.
This is the end of Mekal, body and soul.