Opening his mouth in another cavernous yawn, he forced himself to his feet, stretched again, picked up his glass and downed the remainder of its contents at a gulp. As he walked over to damp down the fire, he heard the gentle musical tones signalling the arrival of a House mage.

Who in the world can that be? he wondered. Oh, well, duty calls, I suppose.

"You'd think a few more people round here would appreciate my efforts on behalf of the House. Work, work, work; that's all I ever seem to do," he muttered in a peevish tone. Grumbling under his breath, he gathered his voluminous robes around him, belched and rushed to the main hall to discharge his ceremonial duty.

The small boy felt enormous relief and a sense of victory as he reached the huge portal. His brown, homespun robes were soaked and mud-spattered, clinging to his thin legs and body like some avaricious octopus unsure of where to begin devouring him. His long, dark hair hung in a dripping mess across his face. His legs were sore; indeed, his whole body ached after the long trek up the winding mountain pass, a journey that had appeared much less onerous at its outset than it had proved to be. The black fortress was far larger than he would have believed and, therefore, at a much greater distance than he had thought.

Two hours of being lashed by needle-like rain, being whipped by unseen barbed branches and being flayed by a frigid, howling wind had sapped much of his strength. By the time he reached the door of the monstrous edifice at last, he was fighting the temptation to turn tail and flee back to the warmth, security and comfortable familiarity of the forge that had been his home for all of his short life. As he craned his neck, taking in the vastness of the fortress, he gulped, realising that there could be no turning back now.

Although it seemed unlikely to him that anyone inside the fortress would hear any sound he might make, the boy raised his fist to pound on the black oak portal.