Sam stopped one of the men dressed in chain armor. The man wore a black tunic with red trim, and the king's symbol was embroidered at its center. "What's going on?" he questioned.

"The king has given orders to build harvest wagons. His Lordship has received word from the G.o.ds that the harvests will be bounteous. The wagons will be needed to transport the crops to the coastal cities."

"Why are the harvests transported to the coast?" Sam inquired.

The soldier gave Sam an odd look. "Why wouldn't they be?"

BJ waved the soldier on and then answered Sam's question. "The harvests are shipped to Merchant Island to determine their value. Once a value is a.s.signed, they're distributed throughout Grayham and the other worlds. Each world has certain resources they provide to the others. They are exchanged by way of the Merchant Angels."

Sam's brow furrowed. It was easy to see another question was coming.

BJ took the liberty to answer without waiting for the question to be formulated. "The G.o.ds have created a group of beings whose sole purpose is to move goods between worlds. They are delivered by the Merchant Angels to each planet's Merchant Island. After a value is established, the goods are distributed. No one has ever seen a Merchant Angel, so don't even ask me to describe how they look. Beyond what I've told you, the only knowledge I possess about the exchange of goods is that there are special areas where the angels a.s.semble on the island to take away the crates the goods have been placed inside. But this only happens at night when everyone has abandoned the island."

BJ put his hand on Sam's shoulder and led the group down the street. "There are moments when government officials agree to allow a member of another race to travel between worlds. It is the Merchant Angels who transport these beings. Although the G.o.ds have created special containers to transport live souls, the ride is said to be dark and miserable. When criminals are caught on Grayham, they are transported to Dragonia in this manner to face punishment. It is said ... if the dragons don't kill them first, the other criminals who have managed to survive will. It is also said that the demons and the vampires have been known to feast on them."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. Now I've heard it all. Vampires? Really? It wasn't long ago I would've said you were full of it for saying something so outlandish, but not anymore. I'm sure Stephenie Meyer would have loved Dragonia, if she was here. Vampires. Wow!"

BJ's brow wrinkled, "Who is this Stephenie?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter. She was just an author from my homeworld." Sam further thought to himself. I wonder if her soul is truly inside the Book of Immortality?

It was not long before the group arrived at the base of the landing platform and began their ascent. Sam's mind had continued to wander and was again dwelling on the thought of the Merchant Angels. "BJ, can you eat on the journey when the angels take you to the other worlds?"

"I don't know anything more, Sam. You'll have to study on it later when your moments allow it."

Once at the top, they waited for BJ to lift Helga onto her hippogriff. BJ blew Helga a kiss as the beast lifted into the sky.

Soresym showed up not long after.

Shalee was standing on the platform when his majestic form settled onto the wooden planks. The wind created from the beast's ma.s.sive wings made her thankful for the railing lining the perimeter, but her thankfulness stopped at the mess the griffin made of her hair.

Shalee pulled the frazzle into a ponytail. "So much for looking cute for you, Soresym," she joked. "How can I show you fab if you keep blowing my hair all over the place?"

The griffin enjoyed her candor. "I'm sorry, Shalee, but I don't have an essence capable of fixing tangled messes."

BJ covered his smile as Sam responded. "Ha, ha! Very funny. He has a chance to pee in a guy's mouth, and the King of the Griffins considers himself a comedian. Soresym, you're a bowl of laughter. Tell me again, why do we like each other?"

After a brief period of friendly banter, they lifted off to wing their way to the city of Haven.

CHAPTER 24.

A Father of Seven LASIDIOUS DECIDED TO VISIT the world of Luvelles. He was chatting with the Source, the most ancient of dragons. The Source was the only one of his kind living on Luvelles, and it was the Ancient One's job to test all those who sought magic's greater power to determine if they were prepared to looking into the Eye of Magic. If deemed worthy, the Source granted the seeker access to the Eye's chamber. If the Eye also deemed the seeker worthy, the seeker's life was spared. If they were not, the Eye would swallow the seeker's soul, and their body was lost within the Eye forever.

Since Lasidious did not want to make another appearance before the Collective at the moment, planning the future was in order, and the Source was a good place to start. Who better to speak with than a dragon that had a wing span that stretched more than 600 paces and lived inside a cave?

The City of Haven Southern Grayham Brandon Smith, a strong-willed, handsome, family man, came from a long line of farmers, and he made his home near the city of Haven. His family was known throughout the valley for their kindness. They were also known for their ability to make well-crafted iron shoes for the area's horses.

Brandon was a good father to seven, adoring children, and his wife, Josephine, was an average-looking woman with green eyes and a heart of gold. After bringing six boys into the world, they were blessed with a girl.

Family came first in Brandon's life, and even though he was busy keeping up with his children, he maintained a strict training schedule that he followed after his wife put their kids to sleep.

Brandon trained in their barn with three of his friends. He then went on to partic.i.p.ate in the fights each season when they came to Haven's arena.

Brandon named his sons: Brandon Jr., Jonathan, Matthew, Jasper, Mark, and Chase. He also had a little girl, Adriana, 3 seasons old and his 6 boys, starting from oldest to youngest, were 12, 10, 9, 8 (twins) and 5 seasons. His oldest, Brandon Jr., was a strong boy who worked with his father in the fields of their farm since turning 11, the same age Brandon's grandfather and his father before him were when they put their boys to work-a family tradition.

Jonathan was an athletic child and spent countless moments playing with his father's wooden training staves. He was almost eight before he could carry one properly, but once he could, his mother could not keep it out of his hands.

Matthew was quite the fisherman. If he could not be found, he was on the river going after the big one. On Matthew's ninth seasonal celebration, he came home carrying enough fish to feed the family. Brandon made sure the boy received the recognition he deserved by helping Josephine prepare the fish for the boy's seasonal meal.

The twins, Jasper and Mark, were mama's boys. They were the family scoundrels, but knew when their father spoke, they knew to listen. On the other hand, they ran rough-shod all over their mother. It took a while, but Josephine finally figured out their weakness. When the two boys got out of hand, she sent them outside to pick a st.u.r.dy switch off a nearby wishershyle tree. When they returned, she placed the switches on the table and informed the boys that the switches were for their father to beat them with when he came home. The kids knew it would hurt, and it was this style of mental warfare that usually put them back in line. Most often, Josephine found a reason to let them off the hook before Brandon returned. It was rare for her to allow the boys to get the switch applied to their rear ends, but she did do it every now and then to ensure the boys did not forget who was boss.

Chase was the charismatic one of the bunch. He not only had his grandmother and grandfather wrapped around his pinky, but all the neighbors as well. He was the kind of kid who could talk to anyone, despite being only five seasons old. His mother's friends loved to pinch his chubby cheeks.

Brandon took Chase into the city one spring and stopped at a local place to eat Chase's favorite food-melted goat cheese on potatoes. On that particular Peak, three beautiful women who were leaving the eatery, stopped, pinched Chase's cheeks and called him "cutie."

Chase had turned his head and even at the early age of five seasons, he watched their beautiful backsides all the way out the door before he turned to face Brandon and proclaimed, "Father, every girl in this town loves me."

Brandon laughed on that Peak and had rubbed his hand through Chase's hair before they headed home.

Adriana, the baby of the family, had thick, blonde hair and facial features like her father's. She was spoiled-a real daddy's girl. She thought her father walked on water and Josephine had taught Adriana how to b.u.t.ter Brandon up when she wanted something. If Brandon had an Achilles' heel, Adriana was it.

Brandon met his wife when he was a boy in school. They were the same age and now, at 30 seasons, they had been together as a couple since he had asked his wife to be his mate at the early age of 10. When Brandon was 16 and of legal age to leave his father's estate, he went to his wife's father and asked for her hand in marriage. Since their fathers were friends, permission was granted and a grand union was celebrated.

Josephine did not waste any of her moments starting their family. She became pregnant on her 17th seasonal celebration. Children had been an experience that forced them to change, but they kept their vows sacred and grew together.

It was on Brandon's 18th seasonal celebration when he became old enough to fight in the arenas of Southern Grayham, and he fought every summer season after that. It was just before his wife gave birth to their first child when he won his first fight. The money from the victory helped to make payments on a piece of land that he purchased from his father, a man who was loved by most everyone.

On Brandon's 20th seasonal celebration, after he had struggled to provide for his family for the last four and make payments on his land for two, his father decided Brandon had learned how to be a man and let him have the land without having to pay further. On that Peak, a celebration occurred. The members of the Smith and Rosslyn families attended, numbering over 197 strong.

Brandon's next fight was expected to be another great Peak. Brandon's family would get ready to head into the city to watch him fight. They would drop Chase and Adriana off at their grandparents' farm before heading to their favorite inn. The only thing that had changed throughout the seasons was how many kids accompanied Brandon and Josephine to the fights.

After checking into the inn, Brandon went down to the arena at dusk. As he always did, he read the fight schedule for the next Peak's events. Just like every season, he knew nothing about whom he would be facing. He noticed his opponent was approximately his height, but weighed 30 measures heavier.

Brandon was the only fighter who never entered the lottery because of his connections. He was also the only fighter who did not travel from city to city. His uncle was the arena headmaster and as he had done every season, he saved the one fight without weapons for Brandon.

Josephine had been firm on this. She would not let Brandon fight unless weapons were not involved, so his only option had been to fight in hand to hand combat.

When the next morning arrived, Josephine woke the kids. As per tradition, the family made their way to the dining area of the inn. This was the one series of moments when the kids could order whatever they wanted. They laughed and told stories over a diverse selection of food.

After breakfast, Brandon prepared to leave for the arena. "I love you all," he said, smiling as he reached down to rub the top of each boy's head. "Perhaps after the fight, we can go to Pana and Mana's house and swim in the pond. Would you like that?"

The children's response was everything he wanted to hear. He loved throwing them into the air and watching them land with an awkward splash. After a few more moments of playful chiding, Brandon embraced each boy and turned to face his loving wife.

He caressed Josephine's face as he looked into her eyes. "I consider myself a blessed man." He reached down and touched her belly, covered by a yellow sundress. His seventh son was growing inside. "Did you know that each Peak I have you as my wife, I have a new reason to rejoice? You are the backbone of this family. I love you dearly."

Josephine's smile widened. She reached up and rubbed her hand across the stubble on Brandon's cheek. Her green eyes found the soft blue of his. "Be safe, my love. Find the honor you seek in battle. Make our children proud."

No further words were exchanged. The look on his wife's face said it all. They embraced, and after another quick kiss, he was off.

The bell sounded. The moment had come for Brandon to take his place on the sand of the arena floor. As he entered, the locals knew who he was and cheered. He looked toward the seats where his family sat and waved at his kids before he blew his wife a kiss. He crossed his arms over his chest to express his love. Once this had been done, he turned to prepare his mind for the fight.

The crowd quieted as his opponent entered. Their reaction was far from normal. Their moans seemed to express concern, but Brandon did not know why. He had never seen this man. This was nothing new since most fighters' careers lasted less than a season. They were usually dead or stopped partic.i.p.ating due to the wounds they suffered.

Despite the crowd's reaction, Brandon readied himself, and the signal for the fight to start was given. He moved toward his foe and after they touched fists at the center of the arena, Brandon threw himself into a roll, grabbed a handful of sand and then tossed it into the man's eyes. He followed with a continuous a.s.sault, striking at his foe's face, ribs and kidneys.

As Brandon circled, he dodged a blind strike while he delivered a powerful knee to his opponent's stomach. Brandon moved around and around, pummeling every opening he could find. Seizing an opportunity, he jumped onto his opponent's back and sunk in a choke.

Brandon was surprised by the man's strength. His arms were peeled away as if he had no strength of his own, and he was thrown to the ground.

Picking himself up off the sand, Brandon watched as the man wiped at his eyes. He had to hurry. The sand would not give him an advantage for much longer, and this man was far too powerful to let him regain his bearings.

Again, Brandon darted in. He planted a crushing fist to the side of the man's face and then moved back. To his bewilderment, his opponent was still standing. He needed to try something stronger. Landing a crushing kick to his foe's chest, Brandon sent him rolling backward-a roll that did not stop his opponent as he returned to his feet.

Brandon's bewilderment turned to shock. He had never seen anyone take this much punishment and still be standing. His strikes had been solid. Any other man would have fallen unconscious.

He jumped high into the air, intending to come down across the blind side of the man's face with his elbow, but instead of making contact, his opponent twisted and sent a wild punch in his direction. The man's aim was true even though he still could not see. His knuckles pulverized Brandon's throat.

The crushing shot sent Brandon stumbling to the ground. But like a true warrior, he pushed himself to his feet. He would have rushed back in to deliver another blow, but Brandon was hesitant to move-not because his opponent was a threat, in fact, his foe was still struggling to clear the sand from his eyes. This was different. Brandon could not breathe. Any movement he made would only deplete what oxygen he had left.

The strike to Brandon's throat had crushed his windpipe. This would be the last series of moments in which he could look upon his family and say goodbye.

The lack of air was already having an effect. He stumbled over to where his family sat and gave his wife a look of farewell. He saw the pain on her face, and he longed to take it from her.

He watched as Josephine pulled the twins close to bury their faces in her dress to keep them from watching. Brandon Jr., Jonathan, and Matthew stared at their father with horror-filled eyes. There was nothing they could do, and they knew it. Their little hands grasped the wall of the arena in front of them with enough force that their knuckles turned white.

Feeling their despair, Brandon fought the pain and crossed his heart with both arms to send them a last gesture of love. He pointed to each and winked while forcing a short statement with his last bit of air. "You make me proud."

That was it. His last breath was gone. Gasping for more would only serve to frighten his children. He knew it was pointless to fight for the oxygen he needed as he lowered to his knees. Selflessly, he fought back the convulsions with everything in him, not wanting his children to see his suffering.

Brandon won this final battle. He was able to keep his body steady as he felt for his own pulse. The beats continued to fade, just as his family did from his sight.

With his eyes now clear, Sam stood at the center of the arena and studied the crowd. He did not receive the reaction he was accustomed to since his first fight in Angels Village. He walked across the arena to where Brandon was lying and stopped above the fallen warrior.

Sensing the need for compa.s.sion, Sam knelt and scooped Brandon's corpse into his arms. As he lifted Brandon off the sand, the crowd's silent reaction told the story. This man was well-loved, and he would be missed.

Sam's gaze settled on a woman in the first row. Many of the faces in the crowd seemed to be looking in her direction. She was standing with her sobbing children tucked against, and though he could see the heartache on her face, she kept her head held high.

As Sam's attention shifted to the youngest of her children, his heart sunk. The man in his arms had to be their father.

CHAPTER 25.

An Unheard Prayer SAM CARRIED BRANDON FROM the arena to the healer's vestry, where Brandon's body would be prepared and given to his family for a proper Pa.s.sing Ceremony. For this man to be lying on one of the healer's tables was devastating.

This had been the type of fight in which Sam could win by making his opponent submit. He had even trained the previous Peak and committed himself to this form of victory. He had hoped to secure the win without causing another death, but it was not meant to be.

He looked down at Brandon's figure and watched as the healers gave way to the mortician. The people had adored his opponent. The mortician said he was a local farmer and ironworker. Sam even overheard the crowd that surrounded the woman in the first row say that she was his wife.

Sam thought back to how Josephine's tears rolled down her face when he looked at her. The dead man's sons were strong boys. They held their ground and did not look away. The oldest had even nodded and showed Sam respect as he held his father in his arms.

"What's his name?" Sam asked the mortician. "It's clear he was beloved."

The large lady, dressed in black, with her hair tied in a bun, responded, "His name was Brandon Smith. He was the father of seven children-six boys and a girl. Another child is expected. Everyone knew him. His whole family is loved. He fought in this arena for 12 seasons."

"May I wait until the family arrives? I would like to express my regret for their loss."

The look on the undertaker's face suggested that his request was odd. "Suit yourself," she shrugged. "I don't know how well you'll be received."

After a while, Brandon's wife walked into the room. When she entered, Sam was standing over Brandon's body with his back to the door.

Josephine paused, caught off guard by his presence. She swallowed and moved to the opposite side of her husband's body.

Sam watched as she leaned over to hug Brandon's corpse and kiss him on the forehead. She did this for what felt like an eternity. To Sam's surprise, she maintained her strength.

When she rose to face him, Josephine started to speak, but stopped to catch the tears that wanted to escape. After three agonizing breaths, she said, "What's your name, fighter?"

Sam wanted to make up a name and run from the room. He had to search for the nerve to speak. "My name is Sam."

"Well, Sam," she sighed, "my name is Josephine Smith. This is..." she paused to collect herself. "This was my husband, Brandon. He would have been proud to know you. The way you handled yourself, the way you have shown my family respect by carrying him from the arena, he would have found you to be a man of character. He would have believed his death to be honorable. My husband felt to die in battle was glorious. As much as I would like to be angry with you, I cannot dishonor Brandon's memory with this emotion. I would like to invite you to his Pa.s.sing Ceremony. It will be held tomorrow. I'm sure Brandon would've felt honored to have you attend."

A young boy walked into the room. Sam watched as the child moved close to his mother. Just as Josephine had done, he bent over to kiss his father's forehead. As the child straightened, he handled himself with a presence Sam felt to be far above his seasons. The boy walked around the table and stuck out his arm. Sam felt small as they took hold of each other's forearm.

Brandon Jr. looked into Sam's eyes and nodded, "You're a mighty warrior, sir. My father's death was glorious. I can only hope to be so honored that I might pa.s.s in this manner. I shall follow your career. Do not let my father's memory pa.s.s with you." The boy released his grip and left the room.

Josephine spoke after her son left. "He will be strong, for now, but he'll seek solitude. My husband taught our sons that fighting in the arena is n.o.ble. He told them that if anything was to happen, they were to hold their heads high and be men. Brandon Jr. will cry when he gets home. But for now, he will honor his father as Brandon would've wanted."

Sam fell to his knees and apologized. His emotions were so intense that Josephine had to comfort him. She encouraged him back to his feet.

"Please don't, Sam. A man does not weep in the arena. My husband would've believed his death to be praiseworthy. His wish would be that you not mourn, but rather celebrate. After his Pa.s.sing, I'd like you and your family to stay at the farm to celebrate with us. It would be an honor ... if it wouldn't make you feel uncomfortable."

Sam confirmed that he would attend. After he left the room, he joined BJ and Shalee who were waiting. Without saying a word, they left for the inn. Once they were settled in their room, BJ explained, "The remaining fights have been canceled in Brandon's honor. The banker of the arena told me that every fighter will be paid as if they had won both their fights. Rumor has it that most of the city's merchants will shut their doors for Brandon's Pa.s.sing Ceremony."

BJ paused in thought. "Can you imagine how many people will be in attendance, Sam? A populated area isn't considered a city until it has reached 31,000 souls. If most of these people knew Brandon, this will be a monumental event."

Sam moved to stand over a wooden table that sat next to the cold hearth of the fireplace in their room. He poured a drink of water from the pitcher. The drink did not quench his thirst the way it normally did. After three more mugs and a long period of silence, Sam finally spoke. "I can only imagine what it would be like to be so well-loved by a community that everyone mourns your pa.s.sing. I don't know how I can step back into the arena. How am I going to face all these people? You should have seen his wife. She was so gracious and kind. Even her son was strong. Going to Brandon's Pa.s.sing will be far worse than battle. There's no way I can continue."

As soon as Sam stopped speaking, the ground beneath the city shook. The shaking lasted for 21 breaths.