The Next Peak Lethwitch Arena George was amazed by the brutality of the fights. Many men had to be carried off on stretchers, followed by a trail of healers. I hope Sam is good, he thought as he looked down to study the archaic fight program. Your opponent's bio reads like a mysterious nightmare. There's nothing here.

The champion of Lethwitch was undefeated, with 11 wins-some that ended in death. Other than his number of wins and deaths, the schedule said nothing else about Sam's opponent. Unlike the other fighters, his profile only had a name. It read: The beast from the west, Terrogon.

The fight was to be with a sword and shield, no body armor-to the death-unless the roll said otherwise.

George got the attention of a man sitting to his left. "What does it mean when it says, 'unless the roll says otherwise?'"

The man's breath smelled of ale, and the woman to his right grumbled at George's ignorance. The man responded with a slur. "A favorable roll can give the champion a choice to change the style of battle. The champion of every arena is allowed this roll. I feel sorry for the man who faces the beast."

George looked across the sandy surface of the arena. I wonder what's going through Sam's mind. He had tried to get below the arena to talk to him, but he had been turned away. If only I could've found a way inside. d.a.m.n those guards.

Shalee stood over Sam, rubbing his shoulders. After a moment, she moved away and picked up her staff. She looked at BJ and Helga and then asked the trainers to leave them alone. Once she was sure the coast was clear, she turned to Sam. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I can be. You know it scares me when you use Precious on me. Sure, you mended my pants, but are you sure you can make this work? I don't want to end up like magical hamburger."

Shalee laughed. "Don't be silly. I wouldn't want my baby to end up as hamburger either."

"Can we get this over with? I trust you know what you're doing. Hurry up. They'll be back in a moment."

The sorceress gave Sam a quick kiss. "Just in case," she giggled, lifting her staff. "Make me proud, Sammy-kins. Precious, tuika helmau!" Her voice was strong and forceful.

Sam could feel a difference in his skin. Even though his appearance had not changed, he knew the command worked. He grabbed Kael and used the blade to test the effect. The razor-sharp edge of the G.o.d-sword pa.s.sed across his skin, but left no mark. "Not even Kael is cutting me!" he exclaimed.

Kael had a few things to say. The weapon pulled away and rose from Sam's hand. The metal of the blade pulsated as the weapon spoke. "The use of Shalee's magic doesn't mean your opponent's blade won't kill you. It only means your skin has toughened and smaller wounds will not open as easily. Strikes made by blunt force should feel less painful. If your opponent stabs you or inflicts a deep slice, you'll perish. Do not make the mistake of thinking you're impenetrable."

"Great. Thanks a lot, Kael. Leave it up to you to bring a guy down," Sam joked.

The sword had come to understand the fighter's humor. "You need to prepare your mind, Sam." The blade floated over to Shalee. "Please, excuse us. Matters of importance must be discussed before he enters the arena."

Shalee did as the sword requested.

After she left, the blade lowered to the bench beside the fighter. "Sam, you must fight with me today."

Sam could not believe his ears. Until now, Kael had said he could not wield him in any form of combat other than training. "Are you sure? You're not worried I'll embarra.s.s you?"

"I have something to tell you before you can take me into the arena. I need to disclose what the markings on my hilt mean."

"I'm all ears."

"The message reads: Bound by honor and righteousness, a true warrior who has lost everything will command this Sword of Truth and Might.

His wisdom and valor will be his true power to lead the ma.s.ses.

The power of the Elven word will strike down his enemies before him."

"Kael, I'm grateful you told me their meaning, but I don't know the Elven language."

"Val arna," Kael responded. "It means Storm of Power. All you must do is remember those two words. When you engage your enemy, speak them both. If you need help, the power in the words will allow me to guide your movements. But you must be careful when uttering them. You don't want the people sitting inside the arena knowing you wield a sword of my caliber. Place my markings near your mouth, and then speak the words aloud. I must feel their power. Once I do, I can a.s.sist when needed. Today, your enemy will suffer a rapid death."

Upon hearing the word 'death,' Sam dropped his head. "Okay, okay. Do I really need to kill my opponent? I don't want to kill anyone else. I've done enough killing already."

In a soft voice, the sword responded, the pulsating of the blade humming as it did. "Sam, this fight is between two beings who wield sharp weapons. Do you truly think there's any other way? This fight will be to the death. This was made clear on the event schedule."

"You know I don't read the schedule. It gives me anxiety. I..." Sam hesitated. This was the first series of moments in which he realized he was expected to go into the arena to take a life. His first two fights had ended in death only because his foes were trying to do more than subdue him. In this fight, he was going to kill or be killed. He would have to release his rage from the beginning.

The bell of the arena sounded, jarring Sam from his thoughts. He only had a couple of moments to find his position. He headed out with Kael in hand.

The crowd erupted as Sam entered. From the stands, George marveled at how well-known Sam had already become in such a short span of Peaks. They chanted his name as if he was some sort of hero. Not too shabby, Sambo. Sylvester would be proud.

The fighter moved into position and held his hands high to absorb the energy of the screaming mob. When Sam saw his enemy walk through the arena doors, he was shocked to see the beast. It had a bull's head, a ma.s.sive, human torso, and powerful, cow-like legs that ended with sharp hooves. He knew the beast from books he had read as a kid. It was called a Minotaur.

Sam stared at the horns on either side of the beast-man's head as it bellowed like an angered bull. The creature's muscles tightened as it threw its arms outward, level with the floor of the arena.

From the intense feeling of the crowd and his opponent's dark stare, Sam knew he would die if he was not ferocious. He called upon his inner demon, now screaming to be freed. And before he could even open its cage, the demon broke free of its prison and rushed to the forefront of his mind. His demeanor changed as the hate poured out of him, and his heart turned to ice as he walked in to engage his enemy.

The arena headmaster lifted his hands into the air and shouted, motioning for Sam to stop. "As champion, Terrogon is allowed to roll the dice!"

The crowd chanted for the bowl. The Minotaur bellowed in Sam's direction and snorted as he moved to stand over a podium. A circular dais had been placed on the arena floor below the headmaster's box. The beast reached inside the large, wooden bowl and grabbed seven dice made from bones of past champions. After shaking them in his ma.s.sive hand, the dice rattled around the bowl.

Four of the seven dice was all it took to indicate that Terrogon had his choice of battle. The Minotaur lifted both his shield and blade into the air. Once sure the headmaster understood his intent, he tossed them to the ground to signify combat without weaponry. It was now illegal under the laws of Southern Grayham to use an object to attain victory.

Lifting Kael in front of his mouth, Sam whispered, "I'm screwed."

Sam was not surprised when Kael did not respond. The pulsating of the blade would have enlightened the crowd as to the power the weapon possessed. Sam held his head high as he walked to the area of the arena where Shalee, Helga, and BJ sat. He tossed Kael up to BJ and then discarded his shield, tossing it to the sand.

Shalee called to him, "Sam, you cannot fight this thing! You need to concede! Dying won't accomplish anything!"

BJ would have spoken, but Sam motioned for his trainer to hold his tongue. After a moment of deep thought while staring at the stone wall surrounding the yellow sand of the arena, Sam found Shalee's eyes. "We have nothing to go home to. This world is all we've got. If I don't fight for these people, who will? You know the task we're facing. To quit because of fear only prolongs the death we'll suffer. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't fight for the survival of these people. I have to be the best I can be. Would you have me do less?"

George studied Shalee's face from the other side of the arena. Though he could not hear the conversation, he could see the look of anxiety on her face. He was surprised by his level of concern. Oddly, he wanted to help, but he had no idea what he could do. He lifted his hands in front of his face and crossed his fingers. "Fight like a mad man, Sam. Kick this thing's a.s.s," he whispered.

Sam nodded at BJ, then at Helga. After one last rea.s.suring look to give Shalee a sense of confidence, he turned to face his opponent. He pushed his neck side to side, cracking the bones and then began his approach.

Terrogon gnashed his teeth and flexed his muscles to intimidate, but Sam was no longer there. His inner demon, centuries upon centuries older than Sam, now ruled the fighter's body. The order was given and Sam charged.

The Minotaur met Sam's advance with a rush of his own. The two collided. The force nearly knocked both combatants unconscious. The beast-man was the first to recover. He lifted Sam above his head, threw him across the arena and watched as the human landed with a thud. Terrogon turned to the crowd and lifted his arms skyward to bask in the glory of the moment.

Sam struggled to push himself up. He appreciated Shalee's magic. Without it, he would have been knocked out. Trying to match the beast's power, despite his G.o.dly gift of strength, was a flawed plan. Compared to Terrogon, he was a featherweight fighting a heavyweight.

Sam shook out the cobwebs as the bull-man turned from the crowd. Again, the beast charged. Sam crouched and waited until the last possible moment. Just before Terrogon made contact, Sam rolled backward, secured a horn in each hand and used his legs to catapult the Minotaur. The bull-man collided with a single pillar that sat at the center of the arena and cracked its foundation.

Sam jumped to his feet and followed. As the beast's ma.s.sive muzzle lifted from the sand, Sam grabbed the hoop that dangled from its nostrils and ripped.

The bull-man's flesh clung to the pin that secured the hoop as it tore free. The Minotaur reacted to the pain and kicked. Its right hoof collided against Sam's ribs and, despite Shalee's magic, a gash opened. Though no bones were broken, the collision was so severe that the hoop, and the flesh attached to it, fell to the arena floor and separated from one another as Sam flew backward and landed in a fetal position.

The Minotaur rose and bellowed as he reclaimed his b.l.o.o.d.y flesh and then ate it to demonstrate his superiority.

The crowd groaned its disgust.

A moment later, Terrogon retrieved his nose ring off the sand. With no place else to put it, he yanked the clasp off the pin and then pierced his ear lobe by shoving it through.

Again, the majority of the crowd moaned, but there was a number who cheered.

Angered by the fact that he had been wounded, Terrogon placed his ma.s.sive hands against the pillar after he shoved the chains aside that dangled from it and pushed. At more than 15 paces tall and a pace wide, the pillar toppled in Sam's direction.

Sam had barely recovered enough to lunge out from under the object's path. The pillar missed crushing him by a narrow margin as he rolled to his feet. The arena floor gave way. The weight of the stone was too much to bear. Each section of the pillar fell into the darkness lit by torchlight and killed four men who were waiting below for their moment to fight.

The crowd's energy amplified the mood as the hole opened. George sat in his seat, stunned. He could not believe how s.a.d.i.s.tic these people were. Their thirst for blood was insatiable. He thought to himself, d.a.m.n ... at least when I killed the owners of The Old Mercantile as fast as I could. How can these people be so cruel? Getting crushed is serious.

As soon as George finished his thought, he lifted his voice and shouted, "Kick his a.s.s, Sam!"

The woman sitting to George's right turned and grumbled. She was heavyset, probably around her 50th season and wore a billowing, yellow dress. The dress had no sleeves, and the hair under her arms stuck out. The woman had a grouchy, grandmother's voice as she spoke through stained teeth. "You aren't from around here, are you, boy? You should watch your mouth. Those who sit around me root for the champion. You understand me?"

Out of the corner of his eye, George watched as the Minotaur threw Sam across the arena again. As Sam landed, everyone surrounding the old lady stood, threw their arms up and cheered, but not the woman. She just sat there staring at George as if he had some sort of disease.

George put on a smile. "You're right," he conceded. "I'm sorry. Who am I to be sitting here insulting you like this? I'll cheer as expected."

The woman turned forward and growled, "That's more like it, boy."

George listened to the crowd moan as Sam kicked the Minotaur in his loincloth-covered nuts. As Terrogon cried out, George took the opportunity to remove the glove on his right hand. He then touched the old woman on her left arm.

Every bone, muscle, and organ from the top of her neck down turned to stone, but her skin remained unchanged. Despite most of her bodily functions being shut down in an instantaneous moment, George knew her mind was not dead yet. He watched her eyeb.a.l.l.s roll in his direction. He stood, smiled, nodded, and then said, "It was nice to have met you. Please, don't get up, I'll find my own way out." As he moved past, the woman's eyes glossed over.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the arena, Helga had to take Precious from Shalee. Her hot-tempered student was finding it hard to watch. She desperately wanted to help, but it was against the law. The young sorceress-in-training had threatened to kill the Minotaur with her magic twice already, and Helga had stopped her on both occasions.

Since she could not use her power, Shalee resorted to the next best thing and started screaming. "Sam Goodrich, you grab him by his junk, drag his sorry b.u.t.t around this arena, and then use that G.o.d given strength of yours to shove your foot right up his backside!"

BJ and Helga were amazed that someone so beautiful could sound so foul.

Shalee looked at Helga. "Can you believe the nerve of that thing? I ought ta-"

Helga put a finger against Shalee's lips. "You'll do nothing, Child." The older sorceress took Shalee by the arm and sat her down. "I suggest we pray. Sam needs all the help he can get."

Shalee rolled her eyes. "You do that. I'd rather watch the fight. Who in their right mind prays at a fight?" Shalee stood, looked across the arena and shouted, "Kick his trash, Sam!"

Sam fought to pick himself up after being thrown into the wall below the headmaster's box. He tensed as Terrogon charged again. With its head lowered, the beast rammed Sam into the wall. Blood rolled down Sam's chin, his internal organs taking much of the force.

The beast backed up, saw that Sam was unable to move, and scuffed his right hoof through the sand.

From his home deep beneath the Peaks of Angels on Ancients Sovereign, Lasidious was watching the fight as the images of Sam and the Minotaur appeared in the green flames that burned in his fireplace. He could see Sam's pain and understood the situation was critical.

The Mischievous One moved to the stone table at the center of the room, grabbed the remaining pieces of the Crystal Moon and then returned to the fire. "Use this to your advantage, Sam. The moment hasn't come for you to perish again, my brother." Lasidious shook the pieces of the Crystal Moon.

Once again, the beast-man slammed into Sam, pinning him against the wall. Blood was dripping from Sam's mouth as the ground beneath the arena began to shake.

The quaking was severe. The seismic activity was enough to capture the beast-man's attention. The Minotaur turned his back to Sam. Confusion spread across Terrogon's face as he watched the sand sift into the hole the pillar had created at the center of the arena.

Seizing the opportunity and understanding that this was his only chance for survival, Sam reached deep within and reacted. He lunged forward, grabbed the end of the Minotaur's left horn with his left hand and used what was remaining of his G.o.d-given strength to break the horn, snapping it at its base with his right fist. The detached horn was now a weapon. Before the Minotaur could react, Sam spun around and plunged the horn deep into Terrogon's back, piercing the Minotaur's heart.

The crowd screamed as the bull-man fell to his knees, but Sam was not finished. He pulled the horn free with his right hand, reached over the top of the Minotaur's shoulder with his left, and grabbed the beast's chin. Pulling his enemy backward, Sam used the horn and drove it into Terrogon's ma.s.sive chest again and again.

After a lengthy series of moments, Sam let the Minotaur fall to the sand. He spit a mouthful of blood onto the end of Terrogon's shredded muzzle and then collapsed.

The arena was in a frenzy. The box holding the Minotaur King and his guards was the loudest of them all. Their cries called for justice. They were already claiming Southern Grayham's laws of combat had been broken, and they were demanding a meeting with the headmaster of the arena to determine Sam's punishment.

It did not take long for the healers to surround Sam's motionless figure. There was not a moment to spare, yet putting Sam on the hide of their stretcher was impossible. It was easy to tell that his condition was critical and that his internal wounds were responsible for his faint breathing. The eldest of the three healers, named Jaress, was wearing an earth-colored robe. He reached into a large, leather case and removed a pouch that was filled with a reddish-yellow liquid. Pulling the cork from its mouth, Jaress knelt next to Sam, then lifted the fighter's head onto his right knee. He forced Sam's mouth open, poured the liquid to the back of the fighter's throat and then pushed Sam's jaw closed.

BJ jumped from his seat and landed on the floor of the arena before rushing to Sam's side. As he pa.s.sed the bowl beneath the headmaster's box, he knocked it from its pedestal. The trainer shook his head in disgust as one of the dice flew out of the bowl and landed next to the healer's knee.

Jaress placed Sam's head onto the sand. He grabbed the dice and tossed it back in the direction of the bowl. After pushing his graying braid over his shoulder, Jaress looked up at BJ through weathered eyes. His voice was strong. "His condition is severe, brother, but I've given him the essence of the griffin. It is too bad our reunion is overshadowed by these grave circ.u.mstances."

BJ's eyes were filled with concern as he held his brother's gaze. "Jaress, how did you acquire the griffin's essence? I know of no healer on Grayham with access to this treasure."

Shalee and Helga arrived to stand beside BJ as Jaress responded. "You can thank Soresym for saving your friend's life. His Majesty sent word for me to come to the landing platform the night of your arrival. The Griffin Lord gave me his essence and instructed me to use it if ever your friend was to fall in battle. I know of no other man fortunate enough to have this bond."

Shalee was a mess, and her eyes were filled with tears. Helga was holding her hand as the younger sorceress spoke. "Is he gonna die?"

Jaress found Shalee's eyes. "A griffin's essence is powerful. I'll watch your friend throughout the night. We should know by morning."

"His name is Sam," Shalee said in a soft tone. "He's got a name. Please use it."

"Yes, my lady."

Shalee knelt and lifted Sam's head onto her lap. "When can he be moved? We can't leave him lying here all night."

Before an answer could be given, the loud voice of the arena headmaster filled the air. "Barthom Jonas, leave your fighter with your brother! There are matters that need to be discussed!"

"Now what?" Helga questioned. "You're needed here. What could they possibly say that's so important?" She turned to look at Shalee, "I'm sure everything will be alright, Child." She redirected her gaze and focused on Sam's trainer as she spoke about him. "BJ knows the politics of the arenas. Sam is in capable hands."

BJ nodded and used Helga's words as a source of strength to remove his concern from his face. He stood and put his hand on Helga's shoulder. "I suspect this has something to do with the Minotaur King's protests." The expression on BJ's face turned angry as he continued to speak. "Sam's victory should not be tarnished, but he may have broken the law, and this may not be news we care to hear. I'll return when I know more." BJ rushed off.

Seeing the griffin's essence was beginning to work, the healers accompanying Jaress rolled Sam onto the stretcher and carried the fighter off. Extending his hands, Jaress led the women into the healer's vestry below the arena.

Athena's Work Later that Evening in Lethwitch It was just after Late Bailem when Athena started her shift at her mother's inn. She placed the flowers from George on the end of the bar and smiled. It was just a matter of moments before she would see George again and get the kiss she so badly wanted.

Athena moved about the inn, singing as she did odd jobs. She was dusting the bar when George finally arrived.

Sashaying across the room, she jumped into George's arms. "h.e.l.lo, honey," she glowed. "I'm so glad you're here. I'd love to finish the conversation we started."

George pulled Athena close and gave her a warm kiss. "I've missed that smile of yours. I'm going to be in town for a while. I was hoping we could get to know one another. Maybe one of these evenings we could have dinner."

Athena kissed the end of his nose, winked and then excused herself. She ran into the back room and rummaged through the kitchen. After a while, she returned with a basketful of food. "I'm free for the evening. My mother will do fine without me. We have extra help during the fights. There are torches out back. We'll need to take a few with us."

Leaving the inn, George admired the purple hues of Luvelles and the orange hues of Harvestom as both worlds approached opposite horizons. He liked the collection of moments called evening. Although smaller than when he first saw them, he could almost feel the vibrant colors of the setting worlds as the sun closed in on the end of the Peak.

He had learned while traveling with Kepler that both worlds would continue to move farther away from Grayham's...o...b..t. Eventually, they would become too distant to see. The demon cat said the red world of Dragonia would be the next sphere to become visible, followed by the dark world of Trollcom.

George felt romantic as he held Athena's hand and walked south out of town. Soon, they came to a natural spring that bubbled to the surface. It was tucked behind a wall of foliage, and the area it covered was some 60 paces across. The spring was encircled by this wall, and there was a narrow path that led through the foliage to a hidden gazebo that was made of hardened clay. The gazebo was large and sat at the center of the pool that was created by the spring. It was covered with an array of blooming flowers. A quaint bridge made of treated wood led to the structure. The natural enchantment of this spot was intoxicating as dusk was approaching.