The demon growled, "That's not funny, George!"

George reached up and scratched Kepler's chin. "Can't you just let a guy have some fun?" He looked back down at the baby. "Anyway, I'm going to take care of you. Let's go find your new mother."

The mage reached up and placed his hand on Kepler's neck. After teleporting back to the room at the inn, he handed the baby to Athena. He smiled at the joy the newborn brought to his wife's face. Soon the entire family was in their room, loving and ogling over the G.o.d-child, Garrin.

Southern Grayham The Serpent King's Kingdom Sam's army crossed the Snake River as they headed west. The legions had to pa.s.s through an enormous mire. It was cold, wet, mossy, waist-deep in spots, and it slowed the pace of the army significantly. The men were not able to sleep that first night while in the mire. The area was full of predators, and any man who traveled alone would have been attacked and devoured. However, due to the size of the army, those same predators fled-all, that is, except the leeches. They attached to the men's legs, feet and other places considered more private. It was not until the army reached dry land that a tent could be pitched, and the men were able to burn the blood suckers off of their skin to get some sleep.

The underground city of the Serpent King sat beneath a vast area of lava stone. Sam could not figure out how the serpents burrowed through the rock, but since his arrival on Grayham, he had seen many things he never thought were possible.

The General Absolute was nervous about the army making camp in such a vulnerable location. Michael feared a surprise attack, but one never came. It was as if the snakes wanted to stay below ground to wait for Brandor to enter their lair-or better yet, they did not know the army was approaching. Either way, their absence did not bother the general's king.

Over the next 2 Peaks, Brandor's army moved into position. As Sam looked up, the sun had reached its highest point. "General, I want a report."

"Sire, the four legions you ordered to meet the barbarian army should be in position by Early Bailem. I sent Dreston and his legion into the serpent's lair. We have another 5,500 men waiting outside the entrance. They've been given the order to attack once Dreston flushes them out."

Sam patted the side of his horse's neck as Michael maneuvered his stallion into a better position from which to converse. They had hoped to find a tactical location with high ground to command the army, but the area was fairly flat, and a single, small hill was all the terrain offered.

The heavy trunks of large trees had broken through the lava stone, blocking any chance at having a clear line of sight. Sam and Michael would need to rely on their scouts to deliver updated information. It was a miserable battleground.

The Serpent King's Lair Dreston and his legion descended into the opening of Seth's reptilian hideaway with torches held high. Their swords were drawn and every man's eyes searched for the enemy.

The air was putrid with the sound of dried snakeskin crunching beneath their feet. Every so often, a rattle or hiss could be heard, but their origin could not be determined. It was as if the serpents were toying with them.

Many moments pa.s.sed before they came to a path that was no more than 12 paces across. To the left was a drop into darkness with no visible bottom and to the right, more of the same. The path of lava stone was too narrow, an impossible crossing for 2,300 men. The ceiling was too high to be seen, their torches not strong enough to penetrate that far into the darkness.

By Dreston's estimate, the men had descended nearly 300 paces. Something was not right. He held up his scar-covered hand. "This will have to do," he whispered. "We can go no further."

Dreston was a strong man, with nine previous battles to his name, all of them with barbarian scouting parties. His legion was Sam's finest, and his men were known for their fearless acceptance of impossible a.s.signments. This Peak's task was no exception. "Lieutenant, bring the barrels forward and place them every 15 paces on either side of the ledge."

The lieutenant sheathed his sword and handed his torch to one of the sergeants. "How many?"

"All of them!" Dreston snapped. "I want them opened and their wicks set. We'll burn the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds out."

The lieutenant hesitated. "All of them? There are over 80. The cavern will become toxic. The men won't be able to breathe."

Dreston looked over the ledge. "When the barrels. .h.i.t the bottom, our men will be clear of this pit. We can outrun the smoke to the surface. The serpents will be left with no choice, but to come to us."

The lieutenant turned and looked at his sergeant. He nodded, "Make it happen. Spread word to prepare to run." The sergeant smiled and did as instructed.

With barrels in position, three men were a.s.signed to each to ensure they were pushed into the pit. Once again, Dreston moved to the edge and held his torch over the side. Something moved toward the ledge, trying to escape the light. "Lieutenant, they're beneath us. They're under our d.a.m.n feet. It's an ambush. We're right where they want us."

Dreston signaled to light the wicks. As the torches were lowered, he took hold of the lieutenant's hand and leaned over the ledge. His eyes widened as hundreds of holes covered the surface of the wall below, and twice as many eyes were beginning to climb toward them.

Dreston shouted, "Get those d.a.m.n barrels over the edge! Prepare for battle, and retreat to the surface!"

As the legion leader finished his orders, the first of the giant snakes crested the ledge and used its powerful body in a whip-like fashion, knocking three of Dreston's men into the darkness. Their hopeless cries echoed throughout the cavern as they disappeared.

As the barrels were pushed over, some of them splashed onto the serpents' coils and the liquid burst into flames. The heat against their skin sent the snakes into a frenzy that worked against both Dreston's men and the serpents. As they thrashed wildly about, they knocked members of each army off the ledge.

Dreston pulled his sword from the eye of his first kill, then turned to look for another as two fangs bit down on his lower body from behind. Agony filled his eyes as the serpent s.n.a.t.c.hed him up and slung him from side to side. The legion leader's leg gave under the pressure and shredded at the hip as if it was an overcooked piece of chicken being picked apart. The serpent swallowed the appendage and then turned to find the rest of his delicacy.

Dreston's fall knocked two more of his men from the ledge as he landed in an awkward position, his left arm breaking beneath the weight of his body. The coils of the giant snake scooped him up as the snake's head lifted to a position above him.

The legion's leader maintained his wit and with his last ounce of heart, he thrust his blade into the upper palate of the serpent's mouth as it struck. The creature cried out in a bloodcurdling, hissing scream and then twisted into a tight ball of death as the smoke from the exploding barrels billowed over the top of the ledge.

The serpents disappeared as the toxic fumes turned into a black fog, and the men who could run retreated.

Back on the Surface "Sire!" a scout shouted as he stopped in front of Sam. "The barbarians have allied with the giant cats of the north, and that isn't the worst of it. I saw unicorns hidden among their numbers. Their magic is enough to destroy all of us!"

"How many, d.a.m.n it?" Sam snapped.

"Hundreds of cats and at least 40, maybe 50 unicorns," the man answered. "We can't fight this kind of force. Our men will perish. Sire, we need to retreat and establish a new battle plan."

"Hold your tongue!" Sam ordered. "Who are you to tell me what we need to do?" Sam thought for a moment, and then he turned to Michael. "General, let's get out of here."

Michael had not given the order before a second scout rushed up from behind, screaming and nearly out of breath. "Sire!" the scout blurted as he bent over to capture the air he needed to continue speaking. "The Minotaur approach from the northeast. They travel with the skeletons and the cats of the plains. Their numbers are impossible to determine. The skeletons can't be destroyed. The cats ended four of us as we retreated, but I was able to break away and remain unseen."

"More cats? How many?" Sam questioned. "Speak man!"

"Perhaps 300, My King. I cannot be sure."

Sam shook his head and turned his mount toward Michael. "The Minotaur? I know they're angry, but still. They're supposed to be our allies!"

Michael shook his head. "This doesn't make sense. Perhaps their king has decided that vengeance is preferable over peace."

"Bah! I beat his champion fair and square. Retreat to the southern sh.o.r.e. We'll work our way home from there. Sound the horn."

Michael had no sooner raised the horn to his mouth when another voice called out. "My King, the bears are coming!" The third scout announced from horseback.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on here?" Sam snapped. "Are they angry as well?"

Michael steadied his mount. "No, Sire. There was no dispute over your victory. They're allies. This is a blessing. We can use this to our advantage. We can ask for their a.s.sistance."

"No, My King," the scout cut in. "The bears have killed two of us already. They approach as enemies. They're thousands strong, and they're angry."

Sam looked at Michael. "We're surrounded. Any bright ideas?"

"The majority of our army is too far north to be of any help." Michael lowered his head. After a brief series of moments, he lifted it. A fire burned in his eyes as a smile spread across his face. "This Peak appears to be a good Peak to perish, Sire." The general ripped his sword from its sheath. "It has been a pleasure to know you, My King. But the moments for plans have pa.s.sed. I say we fight to honor Lord Mosley and give Hosseff many souls to reap."

The king ripped Kael from his sheath and lifted the blade high above his head. He commanded the sword of the G.o.ds to bring forth its fire. The blade screamed with joy at the thought of the pain they were about to inflict. "You're right, Michael! It is a good Peak to perish!"

As Sam faced his horse in the direction of the Minotaur King, he thought of Shalee and his unborn baby. He knew there would be many wonderful joys that he would miss-his child's first step, first smile, first word, and the happiness they would bring to Shalee's face. He could only hope his queen would be strong enough to raise their baby on her own. He looked to the sky and was about to proclaim his love for Shalee, but he noticed a dark, fluttering cloud. He dropped Kael to his side. "General, look!"

"My Lord, it is the griffins and the hippogriffs. It looks as if every creature on Grayham is coming for us."

"Don't be so quick to judge!" Sam barked. The king lifted Kael into the air and commanded the blade to burn bright. "Soresym!" he screamed.

From high above, Soresym's eagle eyes spotted the King of Brandor's signal. Before altering his course, he ordered his family of more than 250 griffins and 600 hippogriffs into battle.

Meanwhile, to the north, the dark-gray steeds, with pure white horns, had been ordered to act as the first wave of Senchae's attack. The unicorns had moved ahead of Kepler's giant cats and the Barbarian King's army. Numbering 50 strong, the magical steeds galloped into battle as lightning erupted from their horns. The magic arced between Brandor's men. The joints of their plate and links of their chain armor were welded solid as they fell to the ground, charred and lifeless.

The magic was overwhelming, and Brandor's men were forced to retreat, dodging from side-to-side to avoid an electrical death. But on this Peak, at this very spot, Nathan, a sergeant, and four of his men would hold their ground. They would not run. They had found an alcove within the lava rock to hide, and they were waiting for the unicorns to pa.s.s.

Nathan's father, Fordamus, had been a tactician of war for most of his life, and he had advised the late King of Brandor, Keldwin, for many seasons. Fordamus was essential when it came to planning battle strategies to protect the kingdom. These strategies had also been embedded into Nathan as a child and allowed him to recognize a helpless situation when he saw one. He knew their current location was without an exit strategy, but he would not go down without a fight. The sergeant and his men would attempt to narrow the odds before they perished.

The five men removed their armor and crept up behind the magical steeds after they pa.s.sed. Their approach was fast and silent. From a stealth-run, the men plunged their blades deep into the necks of an equal number of unsuspecting unicorns. As the steeds fell, the men quickly chopped off their horns and clenched them in their hands.

Realizing what had happened, the rest of the herd stopped.

Nathan shouted, "Hold the horns tightly! They'll protect us from their magic! Ready your blades and fight together! No matter what ... no surrender!"

"NO SURRENDER!" the men shouted in the direction of the unicorns.

The steeds encircled the small group. Lightning, fireb.a.l.l.s, and storms of ice were used against them, but the horns' magical resistances kept them safe. The eyes of the unicorns were filled with rage, knowing their magic was useless against their own power. They scuffed their hooves across the lava stone and tightened the circle.

Nathan shouted, "Pa.s.s with honor! No surrender!"

"NO SURRENDER!"

Suddenly, from above, Soresym's mighty family plowed into the unicorns. One after another, like meteors, the griffins dove with their wings tucked tight to their bodies. Just before impact, they spread their razor-sharp talons on their front legs and claws on their back paws and drove the unicorns into the ground.

Blood sprayed in all directions as if bombs of red liquid had been dropped from a tremendous height. The force of the spray stung the faces of Nathan's men.

The screams of the unicorns filled the air, matched only by the shrieking battle cries of the griffins. The smallest of the winged attackers-weighing more than 4,900 pounds-buried its talons deep into the flesh of one of its enemies and severed the unicorn's spine.

Thirty unicorns perished with no chance of defending themselves. The others, though injured, responded by using their magic to teleport home to the Dark Forest. The strongest threat to Brandor's army had been disbanded in a matter of a few short moments.

Nathan's men lifted their swords and cheered for their winged allies. The moment had arrived to turn their attention to the next big threat. Kepler's feline subjects, which included the support of the barbarian archers, were the next wave they would face.

The rest of Brandor's army stopped their retreat to rejoin the battle while Nathan and his men climbed back into their alcove of stone to retrieve their armor.

Once again, the mighty griffins and their family of hippogriffs dropped from the sky. Forty of the giant cats perished-another 52 lay injured and unable to fight. However, the winged army was not without casualties. Many of the giant cats were ready to pounce, their quick reflexes allowed them to avoid being crushed. They leapt onto their a.s.sailants' backs and tore into the feathers covering the back of their necks.

The arrows of the Barbarian archers darkened the sky, causing little damage to the griffins whose thick hides protected them as they descended for another attack. The hippogriffs were not so fortunate. Their hides were not as resistant to the projectiles. Forty-seven hippogriffs fell in an uncontrolled spiral, their blood staining the ground as they splattered.

The largest of the griffins s.n.a.t.c.hed the cats up with their talons. They carried them high into the air and used the felines' bodies as projectiles against the barbarian archers. The men of the north were in tight formation and could not avoid being crushed beneath the weight of the giant cats as they rained from the sky.

Soresym shrieked as he landed in front of Sam. "It appears I've come at a moment of need, King of Brandor."

Sam let out a sigh of relief. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you're here. We're outnumbered and surrounded. I could use your help."

Soresym shrieked again. "The unicorns are no longer a concern for your army, but I fear the hippogriffs will be no match for the barbarians' arrows."

The griffin shifted and looked over his back as he scanned the area. "Order your army to the north to a.s.sist your legions. We will deal with the serpents since they have no airborne weapons. I, on the other hand, will fly south and speak with Groth. I'll convince the bear to fight with us. The Minotaur should stop their attack once they realize I'm fighting at your side."

Sam pulled back on the reins of his mount. "The Minotaur are angry about their champion. They may not listen."

"Do as I say, King of Brandor!" Soresym ordered.

Sam nodded. "I'll do that. But separate the horns from the unicorns and use them against the serpents. The snakes should come to the surface. We planned to smoke them out. The unicorn horns should tip the scales."

Soresym raised his ma.s.sive eagle head and called out in a language Sam somewhat understood. Another griffin, flying overhead, responded and departed to relay the orders to gather the horns and fly south.

Sam shouted, "General, take the troops north to join the attack!" He turned his attention back to Soresym. "I'm in your debt. I don't know how you knew I was in trouble, but you're a sight for sore eyes."

"I suggest we speak of this later. There's a fight upon us." With that, the griffin launched into the air.

The serpents were making quick work of Dreston's men as they fled from Seth's underground city. The snakes, most 30 paces long, out-slithered the running men and delivered their deadly poison. For every serpent to fall, five men perished. Hope was almost gone. With more than 7,200 Brandorian troops ended by the serpents, only 520 soldiers were still standing when relief finally came.

With swords held high and voices raised, they watched as the snakes burst into flames. The griffins and the hippogriffs descended on the serpents with unicorn horns grasped in their talons. With each swooping pa.s.s, their slithering bodies disintegrated into piles of ash. The serpents' retreat was inevitable as they hurried to the safety of their underground lair, only to realize the toxic fumes would not allow it.

Since staying topside was hopeless, Seth called for his army's surrender.

The Bear King stopped his army when Soresym landed in front of him. The griffin spoke in the bear's language. "Groth, you will stop your advance! You have been deceived. Brandor isn't your enemy. We must work together to stop the Minotaur from attacking Brandor's army. You have no real enemy. Brandor does not plan to attack your kind."

Groth grunted, "You're wrong, griffin! I saw the body of the Scorpion King! Brandor attacked his island!"

Soresym thought back to the conversation he had with Mosley. "Yes, Brandor was there, but with good reason. This war isn't necessary."

"What reason would justify Brandor's attack against a group of beasts who live separate from all others?" The bear's posture shifted as he pointed a claw at the griffin. "If this wasn't an act of war against all beasts, then what was it?"

"Brandor's actions were necessary to save our world. A piece of the Crystal Moon was hidden in the Scorpion King's cave. Brandor went there to save us all. They would not have attacked if the scorpions had peacefully greeted them. On my honor, I a.s.sure you this is true. You know I live in the service of the G.o.ds. I would not lie. We don't have the moments necessary to debate. Join me in talking with Horace. Don't fight this war against Brandor."

Groth growled as he pondered Soresym's words. "I trust your service. Take me with you, griffin, and I'll stand at your side."

Groth turned to face his army. "Head north to join the Minotaur! Go now!" Facing Soresym, he roared. "Shall we go, griffin?"

Soresym took the bear into his ma.s.sive talons and carried him off to find the Minotaur King.

Horace and his army were following the southern edge of Lake Zandra when Soresym landed in front of the beast-man. The Minotaur lifted his hand to stop his army and then shouted in his own language. "What is the meaning of this, griffin? Why do you carry Groth? There's blood to be spilled. He should be with his army."

Soresym took note that Kepler's giant cats were no longer traveling with the Minotaur. "Where are they?"

The Minotaur's brows furrowed. "Where are who, griffin?"

"Kepler's cats. Where are Kepler's cats?"

"I know not. They abandoned us only moments ago. They headed east."

The griffin looked at Groth. "The cats must have seen their kind being dropped in the distance."

The griffin's attention was redirected toward the hollow eye sockets of the skeleton commander's skull. He was standing only paces away from Horace, and the nervous chattering of his teeth gave the griffin pause.

"Why are you here, griffin?" the Minotaur King demanded.

Soresym responded. "You will stop your advance. Brandor is not your enemy."

Horace raised his head and bellowed. "I will stop nothing! Blood must be spilled."