Gregory nodded. A long series of moments passed before he spoke again. “Perhaps we’re going about this the wrong way. I think I know how to increase the magic we need to finish the job. I shall speak with the Ultorian King and ask him to offer assistance. Their kind has more than enough power to keep the water at bay.”
Heltgone reached up to play with his goatee. He was about to respond, but before he could, Gregory’s goswig, the lioness, Mykklyn, appeared with Lord Dowd at her side. The Paladin of Light was holding the bolt that killed Shaban in the palm of his hand.
Dowd did not waste any of his moments. He tossed the bolt at Gregory’s feet.
With a simple motion of Gregory’s hand, the projectile lifted from the ground and into his palm. “What’s this?”
“It’s a bolt from an Order crossbow. They tried to kill me.”
“What? When?”
“This morning. In my garden. They missed, but killed my spirit-bull.”
“Shaban has been ended?” The King of Lavan responded.
Dowd looked at Heltgone. His eyes were cold. “Yes! I was supposed to meet Boyafed earlier in the Peak, but found myself at the bottom of my well fighting for my existence.”
“During what moments did this happen?” Gregory queried.
“As I said, this morning, before Early Bailem.”
Gregory rolled the bolt in his palm. “Then my brother does intend to go to war.”
Dowd shook his head. “The attempt on my being wasn’t the work of your brother. Marcus wouldn’t wield such a weapon. He would use his magic. This must have been an order given by Boyafed.”
Mykklyn moved into a better position from which to speak. “If the Order wanted you ended, then they must have been planning this for a while. An attack of this nature isn’t something Boyafed would order unless he intended to weaken the army. With you out of the way, he must feel that they would have the advantage.”
Heltgone cleared his throat. “It appears there are larger problems to worry about than the construction of the bridge. I’ll return home and have my Argont Commander put the city on notice. I’ll wait for your command. If my army is needed, it’ll be ready.”
Lord Dowd lowered his head. “I appreciate your willingness to fight, Sire. I’ll be sure to let you know if this is, indeed, a sign that war is approaching. I must figure out what Boyafed’s true intentions are before I react.”
The king patted Dowd on the arm. “I’m sure as long as you’re around, we’ll—”
Before the king could finish his statement, another bolt flew over Dowd’s shoulder and pierced Heltgone’s right eye. The king’s end was instantaneous as his mass fell to the ground with an audible thud.
Dowd unsheathed his blessed sword and took a defensive posture. He pushed Gregory behind him as he searched for the origin of the projectile.
Gregory knelt next to the halfling king and put an invisible wall of force around himself and Heltgone as reached into one of the pockets of his robe to produce a small vial. As the chancellor lowered the vial toward the king’s lips, he realized his intentions were unnecessary. He did not uncork the vial and placed it back into his pocket.
The workers were shouting from a location not far away. Dowd and Mykklyn rushed to see what the commotion was about. It was clear that they had seen what happened.
The bridge project leader, a large, male elf, made sure he had Dowd’s attention. “Lord Dowd! Lord Dowd! I saw him! I saw him!”
“Speak, man! Who did this?” Mykklyn snarled.
“I saw a warrior dressed in Order armor. He appeared right over there.” The elf pointed to an area near a mound of stones that had been stacked on the shoreline. “It all happened so fast. He appeared, shot his bow and then disappeared just as quickly.” The elf lifted his hand and presented a weapon. “He dropped this before he vanished.”
Dowd took the crossbow and examined it. The symbol of a high ranking officer of the Order had been engraved on its stock. Angry, Dowd moved back to where the king’s body was lying. “This makes twice they’ve tried to kill me.” Frustrated, Dowd yanked the bolt out of the king’s skull. What was left of Heltgone’s eye was pulled free of his head and landed stretched across the king’s face with the optic nerve still attached.
The white army leader frowned and then redirected his attention to Gregory. “This was meant for me, Chancellor.”
Mykklyn interjected. “If this was an attempt against your being, Boyafed sent an amateur.”
“What do you mean?” Dowd snapped.
The lioness sat on her haunches. “Boyafed’s men are trained better than this. They wouldn’t miss, nor would they leave their weapon behind. I find it odd they failed to hit you on two occasions, but miraculously, they managed to hit the right eye of both victims.”
Dowd tossed the bolt to the ground. “You’re right. They did hit the eye. Could this be some kind of warning? Is Boyafed toying with me?”
Gregory lowered his barrier and then stood. “I don’t know, but the king needs to be taken back to Lavan for a proper Passing Ceremony.” The White Chancellor commanded the king’s body to be moved. A large number of halfling men rushed in and lifted Heltgone’s figure above their heads. “Take him to my palace, and prepare his body. I’ll take him to Lavan and light the fire myself.”
The City of Marcus
The Dark Order’s Temple
Boyafed tossed his black, leather gloves onto the golden altar that sat at the feet of Hosseff’s statue. His voice echoed throughout the great hall as he looked up past the demons that hung from the god’s fingers and lifted his hands into the air. “Hosseff, give me guidance!” he shouted.
Boyafed’s second-in-command entered the hall and rushed up to Boyafed. He lowered his head in respect for the dark warrior’s position. “My Liege.”
The Order leader lowered his hands. “Dayden, you’ve come at the perfect moment. My mind is in turmoil. I’d like your opinion on a pressing matter of importance.”
Dayden nodded in agreement. “But you may not wish to have my guidance once you hear what I have to say.”
Dayden was a larger man, strong, fit, confident, and wielded magic almost as powerful as Boyafed’s. He wore black, except for the golden shirt that all dark paladins wore, and his cape bore the symbol of the Order at its center. Just as every other member within the dark army, Dayden’s rank had been engraved into his belt buckle, and then again on each of his weapons.
As Boyafed studied his Argont Commander’s face, he put his hand on Dayden’s shoulder. “What is it? Your eyes carry the weight of Luvelles within them.”
“Three of our men lay ended as we speak.”
“Where?”
Dayden produced three arrows that bore the white army’s markings and handed them to Boyafed. “Dowd is seeking war.”
“Damn him! I was supposed to meet with him this morning, but he never showed. My message must have fallen on deaf ears. I should’ve killed his men when I had the chance.” He sighed, “What more can you tell me?”
“I have a bow that was used in the attack. The killer must have dropped it when he made his escape.”
“Did anyone see his face?”
“No, but they saw enough of him to give chase. The men who pursued said he wore the colors of light.”
“And the rank on the bow?”
“It’s the same rank as Tolas’.”
“Are you saying the man I let go is responsible for the attack?”
“No. I’m saying the rank on the bow is the same as the man you allowed to return to Dowd.”
Boyafed leaned against the altar. He unsheathed the polished blade of his sword and tapped the flat of it against the sole of his boot. “Dowd has issued a challenge. Do you think we should answer it with war, Dayden?”
“My Liege, with all due respect, this isn’t a decision I should be asked to make. It isn’t my place to question your command.”
Boyafed pushed free of the altar and then secured his blade. “I�
�m not asking for a decision, old friend. I’m asking for an opinion.”
“Then it is my opinion that three men aren’t worth killing thousands over. I think we should try to resolve this matter in an efficient manner. Our army relies on you to have a full understanding of events before you send its men into war. If I were you, I would send spies to investigate Dowd’s intentions before you make a final decision.”
Boyafed pulled Dayden close. After a brief hug, he kissed his forehead. “You’re wise, my friend. This must be the reason our friendship has lasted so long.”
As Boyafed turned to grab his gloves from the altar, Dayden jabbed him in the ribs. “I love you as well, old friend.”
As both men left the hall, Marcus stepped from the shadows behind Hosseff’s statue. His eyes were cold as the torchlight flickered across his face. He lifted another of the white army’s arrows and spun it in his hand. “It seems a little more persuasion is in order.” He looked toward the door that Boyafed and Dayden had exited. “War will come, Boyafed. Soon, it will beat down your door, and I’ll acquire the power to force you to grovel at my feet.”
CHAPTER 15
A Heavy Heart
Ancients Sovereign
2 Peaks of Bailem have Passed
MOSLEY AND ALISTAR WERE SITTING on the porch of Mosley’s cabin atop Catalyst Mountain. They enjoyed the view of the valleys below while they conversed.
Alistar rolled the cuffs of his robe up his arms. “I have been watching George’s family for signs that may suggest that Lasidious and Celestria are up to something.”
Mosley lifted his head from the wooden planks. “Did you find anything?”
“I did not.” Alistar continued to fidget with his cuffs. “I found nothing suspicious, but I still share your concern. They’re up to something. The game they have us playing feels like a masquerade. How could it not be? All we do is watch and wait to see who’ll capture the crystal’s pieces.”
Mosley closed his eyes and turned his snout toward the sunlight. “It’s beautiful up here, is it not? There are Peaks when I cannot bring myself to move from this porch. Do you think Bassorine would’ve objected to my desire to stay in this spot forever?”
Alistar leaned forward in his chair. Dissatisfied with the way his cuffs had rolled, he pushed them back down his arms. “Bassorine was fond of you for over 300 seasons. If he hadn’t cared for you, he wouldn’t have left the Book with instructions for you to take his place. If he was to have a problem with anything you have or haven’t done, he would most likely say that you have not acted as a God of War should.”
Mosley’s ears lifted. “How so? I’ve done nothing against the gods.”
“It’s not the gods you’re failing. You’re failing the beings on the worlds. You don’t seem to care that it’s your duty to create war. Look at it this way, my friend. Picture a den of your own. Now picture the forest the den exists within. If this forest was to be neglected and overpopulated, it would become unruly. It would be overrun and lose its true beauty. Picture this overabundance of beings as if they were vines and fungus that choked the life out of the forest. It’s your duty to purge this territory with fire to ensure harmony is restored. So it is with war. With nothing more than a few simple suggestions, you have the power to make kings fight for lands, take each other’s food, and force the faith of their gods onto the beings they conquer. The worlds would be purified, just as the forest was purged. Your den would once again be surrounded by the beauty of new life.”
The God of the Harvest stood and moved to the porch railing. “Look at what I’ve done on Harvestom. Why do you think I initiated famine across the Kingdom of Kless? I did this to set up a desperate situation so that you can place the desire for war in their hearts. The King of Kless believes the Tadreens have stolen their Seeds of Plenty. With your help, war would consume the centaurs’ forests. Souls would rise and room would be made for the Book to release the souls of those who wait to live their initial lives across the worlds.”
Mosley lifted from the porch and stretched. He walked next to Alistar and then lifted his front paws up onto the railing. “I see your point. I need to move beyond my own issues with death. I know I must do my duty. I just hate to see the beings of the worlds perish. I realize it’s necessary to create wars to maintain the cycle of life, but I’ve been trying to avoid this issue. I understand that I cannot avoid my calling any longer. I’ve been failing as the leader of the pack that I’ve been given.”
Hosseff appeared on the ground amidst the flowers. The shade had left his hood down and the light of the sun passed through his shadowy head. Once the effect of his appearance had been felt, his face materialized. He looked human. His eyes were golden and his hair was long and dark. The gold robe he had decided to wear was trimmed in black and hung to the ground, covering his feet. His windy voice sounded like a whisper as he spoke. “Mosley, there are matters on Luvelles that require your attention.”
The wolf lowered from the railing and moved to stand at the top of the steps. “What matters are you referring to?”
“The Light and Darkness on Luvelles are out of balance. The moments are ripe for your suggestions of war.”
Alistar laughed at the irony of Hosseff’s comments. “How intriguing it is that you would appear at this very moment, and with news of war no less. Mosley and I were just discussing his responsibilities.”
Hosseff lifted his hood from his back. His face dissipated and returned to nothingness as the light failed to penetrate the heavy cloth. “Then such news should give the wolf enjoyment. Mosley, this war must happen. I shall enjoy walking through the battlefields as I collect the souls who perish and return them to the Book’s pages. I’ll do my duty, once you’ve done yours.” The shade vanished.
Mosley jumped off the porch and then turned to face Alistar. “It is moments like this that make being a god less than desirable.” The wolf disappeared.
Alistar sat in his chair, put his feet up on the railing, threw his hands behind his head and lifted his face toward the warmth of the sun. He spoke aloud, despite being alone. “But it’s moments like this, when I’m alone, surrounded by beauty, that I can enjoy how well our plan is coming together.” He chuckled. “They’re all fools, my brother.”
Western Luvelles
The Void Maze
The Dungeon Catacombs
George pushed past Kepler and lifted his hands. Fire erupted from his fingertips, filled the corridor and enveloped a creature that was no larger than Payne. As a result, the werebear fell to the floor, burnt and unrecognizable. The moss surrounding its corpse was charred and the vines that had not disintegrated, fell to the dungeon floor in a heap.
Kepler growled and his eyes flashed. “Good work, George.”
The mage moved to stand over the sizzling mass. A small patch of brown fur on the creature’s back was all that was recognizable as he kicked what was left of the werebear’s body to the side of the corridor. One of its legs broke on impact, and as its arm fell toward the floor, a nail from one of its claws scraped against the surface of the stone, making an eerie noise.
“Damn, I hate that sound. Kep, I’m starting to lose track of our moments. I’ve got no idea how long we’ve been walking through this place. If I have to destroy anymore of these turds, I’m going to go crazy.”
Kepler sniffed the creature’s remains. The smell of burnt fur filled his nostrils. He snorted his displeasure. “It’s not like they’re hard for you to end. Quit complaining. I’m the one with all the scratches.”
“I hear you. I’m just sick of wandering aimlessly through this place.”
“You cry too much. If it will stop your sniveling, I have news.”
“Really? And what would that be? Wait ... don’t tell me. I bet there’s another corner just ahead. We’ll be able to make that turn and get lost down that corridor, just like we have all the rest.”
“You can continue to pout, but I can smell Payne’s scent. I’m going to check it out. He’s aroun
d the next corner.”
“Don’t garesh me. Are you serious?”
The demon-cat just yawned.
“Ya know, Kep, there are moments when you really know how to lift a guy’s spirit. Come here, you big lug.”
“Don’t get amorous!” Kepler snarled. “I don’t need another hug. You’re just too sensitive.”
George reached up and tussled the fur on the side of Kepler’s neck. “Let’s get moving.”
“Yes, let’s. But keep your paws to yourself.”
George took a knee at the corner and then peeked around it with Kepler above his head. To his surprise, the area opened into a field. George pulled back. “We’ve made it through. The temple is sitting on the far side of the clearing.”
Kepler also pulled back and then looked down at George. “I’m not blind. I can see.” The demon peeked around the corner again. “We need to get Payne out of that cage.”
Payne had been suspended above a large bonfire at the center of the field. His metal cage was glowing due to the length of moments he had been held above the flames. Hundreds of werebears were dancing around the fire, and most were agitated because the fairy-demon would not cook.
Payne was singing a song. He appeared happy and unable to comprehend the seriousness of his situation. He acted grateful, as if he appreciated the flaming bath.
Kepler shook his head as he pulled back. “What a freak. Only Payne would sing in captivity.”
George rolled back against the wall and covered his mouth to muffle his laugh. “He’s too young to get it. I don’t think he knows his life is in jeopardy.”
Kepler grinned as a jaguar would and peeked around the corner again. “Look.”
The mage peered around the corner and watched as Payne extended his arms toward the thick, iron bars of his cage. One of the creatures that was dancing by the fire lifted off the ground and flew through the air. The werebear slammed against the bars and was pinned. The screams it made as the fire consumed its flesh were hellish. Even Kepler was bothered by the sound as Payne continued to hold his arms steady.
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