The Eye Of Luvelles Part 63

George extended a finger and pointed it as he pa.s.sed it across everyone sitting around the table. "There are only a few present with the power to stop this threat. If these few don't unite, this kingdom will never realize the beauty of the gifts that Lasidious wants it to enjoy."

As the room began to murmur, George looked down at Lord Dowd and Lord Methelborn. "I have much to say to both of you. Will you allow me to speak in the presence of these people?"

The Order leader looked over at the white army leader and shrugged. "What could it hurt to listen?"

Dowd redirected his gaze. "Prophet, say what you must."

George scanned the faces around the table as he spoke. "I find it rather interesting that my lord has asked me to call upon these two men. Lord Dowd and Lord Methelborn are mighty elves who have been enemies for many, many seasons. Lasidious has asked that I encourage these warriors to come together as one to defeat an enemy that threatens a kingdom that neither are responsible for protecting."

The prophet turned and looked down at Boyafed and Dowd. "You, gentlemen, are leaders amongst elves. You've chosen to be an example for others to emulate. Because of this dedication and selflessness, my lord believes in you." George lowered to one knee and remained on top of the table. "I have brought you here to tell you ... the evil that threatens this unified kingdom of Southern Grayham is the same threat that plagues the Lands of Kerkinn. The manipulations of this destructive being have prompted you both to send your armies into battle ... and for what? I would say that it's for nothing."

George focused on the white army leader. "You, Mighty Dowd, are the leader of an immense and dedicated army. You live your life with honor and integrity, and you hold each man accountable for how he treats others, his family, and how he serve his G.o.ds. But I ask you, are you willing to open your mind to save those whom you've sworn to protect?"

Henry Froland Dowd nodded. "My mind is at peace with my decisions, Prophet ... as I'm equally sure Lord Methelborn's is at peace. But I will listen to what you have to say out of respect for your position."

George nodded. "Fair enough." The prophet lowered to the edge of the table and then put his feet up on the seat of his chair. "You believe Lord Methelborn is your enemy, but I'm here to tell you ... he isn't. It wasn't Boyafed or any of his men who ended your spirit-bull, nor did they end the halfling King of Lavan."

"Then who did?" Dowd inquired. "If it wasn't him or those he commands, then who's to blame?"

The prophet responded without hesitation. "The dark army's G.o.d is the being who is responsible."

Boyafed was quick to object. "Careful, Prophet. I will not listen to blasphemy."

Again, George was quick to respond, but he maintained a pleasant demeanor. "Lord Methelborn, I have no desire to speak blasphemy ... only truth. We both know you're questioning your faith. So please ... just listen, and bear with me for a moment."

The dark army leader looked to his left at Dowd. "I shall listen only because I know I didn't order your spirit-bull or the halfling ended. You may not believe me, but I'm sorry for your loss."

A fair series of moments pa.s.sed while everyone in the room watched Lord Dowd study Boyafed's eyes. Eventually, the paladin broke his silence. "I believe you, and I accept your apology."

Almost as if commanded to do so, many of the king's dinner guests gave a sigh of relief while Lord Dowd looked back up at the prophet and queried, "If Boyafed was not responsible, then who was?"

George looked at the dark paladin. "You won't be happy with what I'm going to say next, but bear with me."

After witnessing the dark paladin's nod, the prophet continued. "Hosseff was the being who ordered Chancellor Marcus to end the King of Lavan, Dowd's spirit-bull, Dayden, and the men of both your armies who were slain in the streets of your cities. You both have been manipulated into a misguided course of action and chosen war because of a fabricated dispute."

After pausing long enough for both men to digest, George added, "Boyafed, you're also a great leader. Your G.o.d has been plotting against you. He commanded the Dark Chancellor to end your lifelong friend. Please ... don't allow your G.o.d's deceptions to end thousands of innocent elves."

The Order leader leaned back in his chair. "I don't know what to say."

"Boyafed, I don't want to say this," George added, "but you also know your G.o.d ordered you to end the king of this kingdom. And you accomplished the task as a true servant should when commanded by his lord. Yet despite your diligent service, the King of Southern Grayham sits at the head of this table. He's alive and well, and you've made seven comments over dinner that confirmed your disbelief that he's breathing."

George addressed both leaders. "Tomorrow, each of you will be given the opportunity to avenge the lives of those lost when Marcus enters this city. The Dark Chancellor intends to end Brandor's royal family."

George paused and allowed the murmurs of the people to once again fill the dining hall. Further, the prophet watched as Sam stood and handed his son to Shalee.

Sam's voice was filled with concern when he spoke above the crowd. "Marcus will be here tomorrow? Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

George held up his hand and motioned for everyone to listen. "It's no coincidence that Lord Dowd and Lord Methelborn sit with us tonight. Lasidious knows that justice needs to be delivered. My lord has requested that I protect your families while these upstanding warriors battle Marcus inside Brandor's arena to claim vengeance for not only themselves but the families the chancellor has destroyed. Lasidious is a just G.o.d, and he wants the beings of Southern Grayham to witness the final threat to their kingdom fall before their eyes, and when that happens, not only will the beings of this kingdom know peace, but the lives of those living throughout the Lands of Kerkinn will also know peace."

Boyafed stood from his chair and motioned for Dowd to do the same. "Knowing Marcus the way I do, I don't doubt for a moment that he's responsible for our conflict." The Order leader extended his right arm and grasped Dowd's forearm. "I ask that we set aside our differences."

Again, every eye around the table watched with antic.i.p.ation as they waited for the white army leader's response. "Done," was all that was said and then Dowd pulled Boyafed to him and embraced the dark paladin.

When the men separated, Boyafed looked across the room at Kepler while he spoke loudly enough to address the crowd. "I have done much thinking since our encounter in the Petrified Forest." Boyafed scanned the faces surrounding the table and then stood on his chair. "Tonight, when I saw your king, my eyes could not fathom his ability to walk through the door of this hall. Hosseff would not have given a follower of his own such a gift. Not only does your king live, but his son's life's source has been restored. I shall no longer serve a G.o.d who's selfish and without honor."

Boyafed found Dowd's eyes. "I'd be honored to fight by your side to defend the lives of these people."

Dowd could see the commitment on the Order leader's face. Further, he could see the desperation in the eyes of the people around the table as they waited for his response. Dowd extended his hand and reclaimed Boyafed's forearm. "I will fight with you under one condition."

Boyafed smiled. He knew what was coming.

The white army leader continued. "Once the fight is over and Marcus has perished, you and I shall battle to determine who the best warrior truly is on Luvelles."

The Order leader reached out and used his free hand to squeeze the top of Dowd's shoulder while he shook the white army leader's forearm. "I accept your challenge. I shall enjoy the validation that I am our world's ultimate combatant."

Dowd could not stop himself from grinning. "And I shall enjoy depriving you of your validation."

Sam clapped his hands, stood from his chair and then shouted, "Now that would be a fight worth paying for!" The king looked at both warriors. "But I have a suggestion, gentlemen."

Dowd and Boyafed waited for Sam to continue. "For you to end each other would be a senseless loss. Your influence is necessary while your world transitions to peace. I believe I have a solution that would allow you to settle your dispute without ending each another."

Sam paused. A moment later, a huge smile appeared on his face. "On my old homeworld ... we had a style of fighting that we called Mixed Martial Arts. If you'd allow me to teach you, I could show you how this form of combat is done. We could use it to implement a system on both our worlds to allow us to settle differences between those we rule."

George had to laugh. "Holy cow! Who would've thought?"

Everyone turned to look at the prophet, but Sam was the one to speak. "What do you mean by that?"

George took his feet off his chair and then pushed himself clear of the table. He walked to the head of it and then stopped next to Sam. "I was thinking that you could use that genius brain of yours to find a way to bring the battles from these disputes into the homes of every being on all the worlds. I'd wager that you could create a form of Pay-Per-View, TVs, and the whole network that would make it work. Heck ... I'd even wager that it wouldn't take long before you had it all figured out ... and it would all come with 3D."

Boyafed looked at Sam and spoke up. "What is this 3D, Your Grace?"

Southern Grayham The Peak of Bailem The Following Peak Snow covered the streets of Brandor as Marcus made his way into the city. It was as if everyone had been informed that he was coming. The gates of the city had been abandoned, and footprints were scattered everywhere, many of them leading into the homes and storefronts that lined the main road and ended at Brandor's arena.

Something was amiss, but the Dark Chancellor knew his magic was far more powerful than any that could be found on Grayham. Marcus continued to make his way toward the arena where he intended to turn and head west to the castle, but as he approached the arena, it was the only place that was active. The giant structure was in the shape of a ma.s.sive oval, and the people inside were shouting and laughing at something exciting that was happening.

Drawn to the noise, Marcus removed his pipe from his mouth and exhaled the smoke as he pa.s.sed beneath the arches that led into the arena. The chancellor had not taken more than 15 paces before the people inside went silent.

Marcus stopped. The silence was eerie. A chill ran down his spine as the tall, thick, iron gates attached to the arches behind him slammed shut. A moment later, the ma.s.sive locks at the center of the gates clanked together, locking him inside.

Marcus secured his pipe to a special loop that was sewn to the inside of his robe, and then he lifted his hands. A brutal wave of wind erupted from his fingertips and plowed into the gates-but nothing happened. "Interesting," Marcus mumbled.

The Dark Chancellor concentrated and reached within to summon a stronger burst of wind, but this concentrated use of magic still did not produce the effect he was after. Though the barrier bowed significantly, the hinges of the gate and its locks held firm.

Marcus walked toward the gate. He reached out to touch the iron bars of the gate. Despite the snow on the ground and the bite in the air, the bars were warm. He tried to use his magic to levitate up and over the top of the barrier, but the chancellor quickly realized that his feet were not going to leave the ground.

George! Marcus thought. The moment has come for me to depart. The Dark Chancellor closed his eyes and thought of the Merchant Island off Southern Grayham's southeastern sh.o.r.e, but when he reopened them, he had gone nowhere. He was trapped.

A voice from inside the stadium shouted. Because the being was so far away, the sound was faint, but it was also familiar. Since the chancellor was unable to flee, and the iron fencing of the gate was una.s.sailable, Marcus had not other choice but to investigate.

The chancellor made his way through the tunnel that led to the snow-covered sand of the arena floor. What he saw as he placed his feet on the fighting surface was 65,000 spectators sitting in the stands, and at the center of the arena, a sole man stood waiting on a pedestal.

Marcus recognized the warrior. It was Boyafed. He was dressed in th Order's black and gold plate. The Dark Chancellor whispered to himself, "George must be behind this."

Marcus walked toward Boyafed while he scanned the crowd for the warlock. With each step, the chancellor's irritation magnified, and as if Boyafed's presence was not bad enough, a second pedestal was beginning to emerge from beneath the arena floor next to the Order leader.

Marcus' heart sank as Lord Dowd stood dressed in his black and silver armor that bore the symbol of the white army on his chest.

Each man had his blessed blade drawn, and they lifted them in Marcus' direction to formalize their challenge.

Marcus tried to teleport out of the arena, but he failed again. George had to be somewhere. The warlock was the only one powerful enough to stop him from escaping. Marcus wondered, If I'm to fight, can I teleport within the arena? The chancellor tested his theory. He vanished. When he reappeared, he was standing only a pace or two away from where he had teleported.

Marcus lifted his head and shouted, "You will regret betraying me, George!"

From his seat inside Sam's royal box, the warlock snickered as he nudged Brayson with his elbow. "It looks like someone's p.i.s.sed."

Sam was sitting on the left side of Brayson. The king leaned forward to look past the Head Master. "George, are you sure this is a good idea? Allowing the people to watch this battle is dangerous. They have no way to protect themselves from wayward magic."

Gregory Id was sitting behind George. The White Chancellor leaned forward and placed a hand on the warlock's shoulder while he addressed Sam. "The Prophet has the power to protect them. You shouldn't concern yourself with their safety."

Athena was sitting to the right of George. She tugged on the sleeve of his tunic. A moment later, she bent down to retrieve three bottles from a satchel that were filled with corgan milk. "Do you mind, honey?"

George placed his hands on each bottle and used his magic to warm the milk. "There you go, babe. That should keep the kids happy."

Athena turned to Mary who was holding Garrin and handed her mother one of the bottles before she turned to offer another one to Shalee.

The queen smiled. "Well, aren't you a peach? Thank you."

Meanwhile, back on the snow-covered arena floor, Marcus stared down his challengers as he stopped a fair distance from their pedestals. He shouted across the sand. "I won't fight you! There's no honor in unfair odds!"

Boyafed shouted a response. "Where was your sense of honor when you ended Dayden? Where was it when you murdered Heltgone and Dowd's spirit-bull? There was no honor in the senseless slaying of my men when you left them lying in the streets! You shall fight us both, and you'll fight us now!" Boyafed leapt from his pedestal with Dowd right behind him.

The people sitting in the arena cheered as both men charged with their blades lifted.

Marcus reached beneath his robe and drew a blessed sword of his own with his right hand. A moment later, he lifted his left and sent a bolt of lightning into Dowd. The charge slammed into the white army leader's chest and threw him across the arena where he rolled to his feet unscathed and ready for battle.

Boyafed's blade met Marcus'. A frenzied exchange of steel followed before the dark warrior was struck by a well-placed burst of magic that lifted Boyafed off the arena floor and threw the dark warrior into the wall beneath the crowd. The snow that was captured by the blast showered not only Boyafed but the crowd above him as the dark paladin fell onto the fighting surface and landed on his right side.

Dowd's war cry filled the air as he closed the gap between Marcus and himself. The white army leader lifted his free hand and sent a brutal wave of force barreling toward Marcus.

It took a substantial amount of the Dark Chancellor's focus to capture Dowd's magic and channel it for his own purpose. When the power was released, it had been redirected toward the white paladin. The force of the magic was now three-fold what it was when it left the white paladin's fingertips.

Once again, the magic lifted Dowd off the ground and sent him flying across the fighting surface. But during this series of moments, the white paladin was not as fortunate as the last. Dowd crashed into the wall opposite of Boyafed and fell to the ground with his breath knocked out of him while the snow that was captured by the magic once again showered the crowd.

Meanwhile, Boyafed was back on his feet and attacking.

Marcus was barely able to redirect his attention to save himself. At the last possible moment, the chancellor's hand was extended to deflect a ball of fire that Boyafed had sent his direction. The power of the spell was enough to disintegrate the chancellor, but not on this Peak. The fireball ricocheted off Marcus' arm and continued on toward the people who were sitting in the stands at the far side of the arena opposite the king's box. The magic would have consumed more than a dozen souls, two of which were newly appointed barbarian senators, but the prophet was prepared. George extended his hands and produced a field of magic that stopped the fireball from ending the spectators.

With the threat dispelled, George leaned forward and looked at Sam. "d.a.m.n, dude! That was close! I need to put up a permanent barrier."

Without waiting for the king's response, the warlock pushed himself out of his chair. "Shalee, put the baby down and come with me." The prophet moved to the far side of the king's box and stopped next to Kepler. The demon-jaguar was casually licking himself and seemed to be unconcerned with the battle that was taking place. "I need you to get out of the way, Kep. Shalee and I need a little room to work."

The demon-jaguar sighed. "Out of this entire box, you just had to choose my spot, didn't you?"

George grinned as he extended his left hand and protected another section of the crowd from wayward magic. "I'm sorry, Kep, but I need this spot."

Kepler rolled his eyes. "Fine. I can see a spot where I'd much rather lie." The demon teleported to the center of the fighting surface and plopped down into a comfortable position while he ignored the combatants. As the battle continued, the jaguar casually lowered his head between his legs and began licking himself while Marcus, Boyafed and Dowd's magic whirled all around him.

The prophet shook his head. "That d.a.m.n cat's insane."

With Shalee at his side, George commanded, "Take my hand. I need to feed off your power." George extended his arms and closed his eyes to also draw from Kepler's power. With a simple nod, the warlock created an invisible field that surrounded the circ.u.mference of the fighting surface, and a small bubble of protection was also placed around his goswig, Kepler.

Boyafed and Marcus once again met with their blades slamming into one another. Lunge after lunge, stab after stab, slice after slice, were delivered as they surrounded the demon-jaguar at the center of the arena. The Dark Chancellor was able to fend off Boyafed's a.s.sault until Boyafed finally found a small opening.

The dark paladin sent a barrage of magic arrows slamming into Marcus. Just as the case with both Boyafed and Dowd, the Dark Chancellor was thrown across the arena. However, unlike Lord Dowd, Marcus was able to return to his feet, ready for battle.

With Lord Dowd still recovering as he pushed himself up to his feet, Marcus teleported behind Boyafed in an effort to surprise the dark warrior. But the Order leader was too quick. Boyafed spun and blocked Marcus' blade from slicing his torso in half.

Again, Marcus teleported, but during this series of moments, he appeared on the far side of the arena. The chancellor sent his strongest bolts of lightning hurling in two directions.

Both Dowd and Boyafed were forced to dive out of the way, but the dark paladin was too slow. Boyafed was. .h.i.t in the stomach and wounded while Dowd somehow avoided the strike. The white paladin rolled to his feet and teleported next to Marcus.

Dowd began a masterful series of metal on metal clashes with the Dark Chancellor that bought Boyafed the moments to recover. Eventually, Lord Dowd found a small opening in Marcus' defenses. He delivered a wicked explosion of magic that sent Marcus flying toward the arena wall that was more than 15 paces behind the chancellor. But before Marcus slammed into the wall, his body vanished. An instant later, he reappeared behind Lord Dowd.

With his blade ready, Marcus lunged. The chancellor savored the penetration as his sword skewered the small of Dowd's back. The white army leader's spine severed, and as Marcus pulled his blade free, he watched Dowd collapse.

To keep Marcus from ending the white paladin, Boyafed reacted. The dark warrior teleported across the arena and began another series of metal clashes and magical strikes that were all defended. The attack continued for a long series of moments while the crowd cheered before Marcus found the opening the Dark Chancellor was looking for-an opening that would drop the Order leader to the arena floor.

Boyafed was coming out of a spin that was intended for Marcus' head when a slash across his abdomen cut him open. Immediately after, Marcus' sword came down across the top of Boyafed's left shoulder. The Dark Chancellor's blade penetrated the dark warrior's body deeply enough to cut his collar bone in half and end the fight.

Blood from both paladins saturated the earth as Marcus moved to stand above Boyafed. The Dark Chancellor's blade began its descent to end his enemy. The strike was arcing toward Boyafed's head when both wounded warriors vanished only a split moment before the chancellor's sword made contact. Marcus screamed immediately after his weapon found nothing but the arena floor. "Aaaahhhhhhhhh!"

While the Dark Chancellor's curses filled the air, George motioned for the King of Brandor to come to him. "Sam, do your healers have the vial Brayson gave you? They're going to need it if they're going to survive."

Sam nodded. "I have something better than Brayson's potion. I've been given the essence of the griffin lord, Soresym. Jaress has it."

Not quite sure of what the griffin's essence was, George nodded. "As long as it works, I don't care." The warlock turned to face the Head Master. "You're going to have to be the one to end him. I'd do it myself, but Lasidious' prophet cannot be perceived as a killer."

Mary grabbed Brayson's arm. "You're not going out there." She looked up at George. "Do you hear me? He's not going out there."

Athena cradled Joshua in her arms. "I don't want the grandfather of my baby peris.h.i.+ng. Don't you dare go out there!"

George smiled as he found Brayson's eyes. "This is one of those moments when we're going to have to beg for forgiveness. Settle this once and for all."

Brayson stood, reached beneath his robe and unsheathed the blade of the Head Master. He was about to teleport onto the surface of the arena when Sam reached out to stop him.

"Wait a moment! What about the ring you gave me when I visited Luvelles? Is it strong enough to protect me against his magic?"

Brayson thought a moment. "I can't be sure of that."