George gently pried Brayson's hands off his tunic and took a step back. "What do you mean? How can I restore Fisgig's life's source?"

The Head Master carefully brushed off the lapel of George's tunic. As he did, a restored confidence appeared in his eyes. "Throughout history, the G.o.ds have given the Head Masters of old this power. The source of this power resides within the Stone of Rebirth. All Head Masters are allowed to use the stone twice per solstice season."

The warlock cut in. "Is this similar to the power the Order calls their Touch of Death?"

"Yes, but they are limited to using their touch only once per full season."

George's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by full season?"

"I mean, a full season of a man's life!" Brayson snapped.

George held up his hands. "Whoa, pit bull. I got it." The warlock paused in thought. "You said that Fisgig will lose his power when his life's source is returned. Are you saying when the Stone of Rebirth is used, the person or beast that it's used on loses their ability to command the arts? Is that also the way the Touch of Death works?"

Brayson grumbled. "It's exactly the same as the Touch of Death, only the stone can be used more frequently."

"Does it strip the person or beast of their natural abilities as well?"

"Fortunately, no. It doesn't strip anything natural from them at all."

George touched Brayson's shoulder and then teleported them onto the steps of Mary's home. "I need to think about your request. I don't understand everything, but I think you've given me enough to ponder. As of this moment, I don't see a problem with letting the phoenix live. But like I said ... I want to think about it."

The intensity of Brayson's glare hardened. "I'm not asking. I'm telling."

George leaned in. "I get it. I still need to think. As far as your brother is concerned ... I wouldn't worry about Marcus. I've got plans for him. Perhaps you should go inside and work on creating a happy family. Okay, Dad?"

Brayson moved to the bottom of the steps. "Don't utter that word again until I extend my blessing. Fisgig must live, and you must ensure your promises are fulfilled."

The warlock grinned. "Lighten up, Pops, I've got it handled."

The Head Master ignored George's attempt to smooth things over. "Just say good night. My trust in you better not be misplaced."

"Okay, relax." George jumped down the steps. "Oh! Perhaps we should avoid discussing this with the girls. I want to do what's right from here on out ... not only for Luvelles ... but for our family as well. They don't need to know about the garesh we just went through."

Brayson nodded. "I hope the Ancient One was right, and there is good in you. I've been told and witnessed many terrible things about you since last we spoke, but I trust the dragon's judgment. I'll see you in the morning."

As soon as Brayson closed the door to Mary's home, George teleported inside Kepler's lair beneath the stones and waved his hand to clear away the darkness. Kepler and Payne had to cover their eyes to keep the brightness from hurting them.

"What do you want?" Kepler growled. "I was sleeping."

"Master, get out of here, and let us sleep!" Payne shouted.

George looked at Payne. The fairy-demon had grown more than a hand since the last moment he saw him. He had also used a complete sentence.

"Did I just hear him right, Kep? Did he actually make sense?"

"Yes. I've been working with the freak."

"Stop calling me Freak. I've stopped calling you Kitty, haven't I?"

George took a seat. "Wow! I leave you guys for a few Peaks, and when I return, I run into Captain Sentence over here. What's gotten into you, Payne?"

Kepler interrupted. "Don't get him started. He'll go all night and won't shut up. He's on this whole, 'I can talk better than you' kick. Though irritating, at least I can understand him now. He's also been eating everything he can get his puny claws on. I've never seen anything grow the way he has."

George shook off his surprise. "Payne, we'll get back to you in a moment. Kep, I need to know if you have any abilities that would be considered a power and not a natural ability."

"Why?"

"I'll explain. Just be honest. This is crucial."

"I have one power. Everything else I do is natural. I can hide within the shadows naturally. I can see in the dark naturally, but the ability to control my skeleton army is a power given to me by Celestria."

George sighed. "I don't think you can control skeletons any longer."

"Ha! Why would you think such nonsense?"

"When Marcus restored your life's source, you may have lost this power. I want you to go out tonight and test it. Payne will go with you. I need you to end someone. If you can't control the corpse, then I'll know that Brayson told me the truth. This will tell me how I should proceed with my relationship with him."

"What are you talking about?" Kepler queried.

"Trust me. Just go end someone, okay?"

"I can end someone if you want, but it seems like a senseless labor to prove something that I know I can do. A Master of the Hunt always knows his abilities."

George rolled his eyes. "Just go. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself, and it'll make me feel better to know your power is intact." The warlock redirected his attention. "Payne, I want you to teleport Kepler to the city of Marcus. I'm sure it won't be hard to find a soul worth ending there."

Payne stood and stretched his wings. "I'd be happy to do this for you, Master. Will there be anything else?"

Kepler growled. "Just stop already, Freak. He's impressed."

George grinned. "I can't believe I'm going to say this. I think I like the old Payne better."

Grogger's Swamp Just Before Late Bailem Boyafed was waiting for Sam to exit the swamp. He had set up camp just outside its entrance, and he was dressed in the armor of the Order. The dark warrior had a debt to settle, and he hoped to confront the King of Southern Grayham-providing the king managed to survive the swamp.

It was just before Late Bailem when Sam made his way out. Boyafed waved to capture Sam's attention, and then he reclaimed his seat near the fire to wait for the king to say goodbye to those he had saved.

Meanwhile, on Ancients Sovereign, Mieonus called the Collective to her home. She had been waiting for this confrontation and wanted to share her manipulation of the event. She had informed the G.o.ds that something big was about to happen, and most of them came out of sheer curiosity, but Lasidious and Celestria chose not to attend.

Standing in front of Mieonus' waterfall, those present watched the image of Sam as he said goodbye to the people while Boyafed patiently waited. Mieonus took the opportunity to brag about her handiwork while Mosley stared into the fall without saying a word. Worry filled the wolf's eyes.

Once the group surrounding Sam had thanked him, they teleported and went their separate ways. Sam looked at Boyafed's camp and took a deep breath. He knew who the Order leader was, so he gathered his nerve and then joined the dark paladin.

Boyafed motioned for Sam to take a seat. He had prepared a comfortable spot on a stone for the king to sit and had covered it with furs. A meal was simmering over an open fire not far away.

After watching Sam take his seat, Boyafed spoke. "Do you know who I am, King of Brandor?"

"I do." Sam looked into the pot that hung above the flames. "What's for dinner?"

"I hope you like it. I have prepared jackram stew. I took the moments to hunt a few. They're quick creatures. If it wasn't for their clumsiness and the fact they trip over their ears, I don't imagine I would've been able to shoot them with my bow. They should make a fine meal."

Sam leaned forward and scooped a ladle full into a wooden bowl that Boyafed tossed to him. "I know why you've come." Sam pulled his eyes away from the iron pot to look up at Boyafed. "I'm asking myself though ... why the meal? Why the idle chatter? Why would you do this when you've come to avenge your son's demise?"

Boyafed filled his bowl. After sitting back and taking a bite, he replied. "I've heard of your skill. I know of your war on Grayham and the victory you claimed. News of such victories travels between worlds swiftly. Both of us are men of war, but that doesn't mean we can't be civil. I prefer to get to know the man I intend to end."

Sam nodded. "I like your style." He pushed the stew around in his bowl and then looked up again. "You should be proud. Your son fought well. You should know that as his father. He served you until his dying breath." Sam smelled the delicacy. "I know you gave him the order to end my queen."

Boyafed took another bite and then pointed his spoon at Sam. "I appreciate the sentiment, but my son failed in his orders. If he were any other man, I would not be here." The Order leader took another bite. "This is good, no?"

Sam swallowed a bite of his own. "I hope you fight better than you cook."

Boyafed grinned. "You jest. I like that." The Order leader leaned forward. His face turned serious. "You're correct. I did give the order to terminate your queen, but my son fell in love with her. As his father, I wish I could say my son was a good soldier, but he was weak ... both at following instruction and in battle. I should tell you that it was Hosseff who requested your queen's demise. I personally had nothing against her."

Sam shrugged. "What's a guy to do? You must obey your G.o.d. And all men must love their children no matter how often they disappoint us. You sitting there shows me how much you cared for Kiayasis."

Boyafed nodded. "I also love my mongrel mutt who waits for me at home."

Sam smiled. After a few more bites of stew, he lowered the bowl to the ground. "I would imagine we could speak all night about many things, but I think we should dispense with all the chatter and get this fight of ours over with. Besides, I'm not that hungry, and your stew needs spice."

The G.o.ds were fixated on Mieonus' waterfall as they made comments of who they felt had better skills. Mosley, on the other hand, was in a world of his own. He just stared at the images and tuned out the others. He knew this was going to be the king's toughest opponent yet.

You can do this, Sam. You must fight ferociously and go for the throat. The same thought ran through the wolf's mind over and over.

Sam and Boyafed stood and moved away from the camp. The King of Brandor pulled Kael from his sheath and commanded the blade to bring forth its fire. Boyafed shouted in the language of the elves, and his sword also burst into flames.

Sam smiled. "I'm sure we both know how to avoid damage of this nature." The king commanded his blade to go cold. "So what's the point?"

Boyafed nodded. "Agreed. This will be a fight without the power of our blades. I can see the ring on your finger. I know you're well protected. The markings are those of the Head Master."

As they began to circle, Sam's curiosity got the best of him. He remembered what Ba.s.sorine had told him. His blade was to be the only one with the ability to summon truth from others. He stopped circling and dropped his sword to his side. "Can your blade seek the truth in others as mine can?"

Boyafed also stopped and lowered his sword. "Your blade can do that? Most impressive. What an incredible power to have at your disposal. I can't tell you on how many occasions I could've used magic like that." The Order leader hesitated and then continued. "Just the other Peak, I tortured a small group of men in my dungeon. I wish I would've had your sword during those moments. It would've saved me much trouble."

"For sure," Sam acknowledged. "I've had to use it twice. He was a gift from the G.o.d of War, Ba.s.sorine. I named him Kael." Sam spun the blade in his hands and then pointed its tip at Boyafed's sword. "What about yours?"

The Dark Order leader tossed his blade in Sam's direction, handle first. "Take a few swipes with it. Feel how light he is in your hand. I call him Qael Kayma."

"Aahhhh ... an elven name. A blade called, 'Sleep Well' is rather appropriate for the pa.s.sings you've instigated throughout your seasons."

Boyafed smirked. "You know the elven language. I'm impressed."

"Not all of it. Just enough to get by," Sam reb.u.t.ted. "Give me a few more Peaks here, and I'll have the hang of it." Sam moved Boyafed's sword back and forth and then tossed it back to the dark warrior. "Nice. It's balanced well. What is its power?"

Boyafed grinned. "I hate cowards, don't you?"

"Definitely. Why?"

"Qael Kayma will allow me to throw him for quite a distance to strike those down who would choose to flee. I have killed many beings this way. The blade hates a being without a spine as much as I do. He returns to me with a simple wave of my hand. Hosseff, himself, gave this blade to me. Beyond that, Qael Kayma will do anything your blade can do ... minus your weapon's Call of Truth, of course."

Sam tilted his head in thought. "I never thought to name Kael's power. May I use that name? Call of Truth has a ring to it."

Both warriors had to stop speaking while Kael and Qael Kayma took the moments to introduce themselves to one another. After the swords finished their chat, Sam turned to look at Boyafed. "Well that was a first for me. Never thought I would see the Peak when two swords would converse."

Boyafed had to smile. "For me, also. To answer your question regarding your sword's power, you may use the name, but I doubt you'll have the chance. I promise to make your end a quick one."

"We'll see about that." Sam decided he had done enough chatting. "We best get this over with. Let's find out who'll be returning home in a casket."

Boyafed bowed. "No matter the outcome, King of Brandor, I consider you a worthy opponent."

Sam bowed in return. "And I you."

Without further conversation, Boyafed moved in. The metal of each blade seared against each other as they clashed in a barrage of upward, downward and side-to-side strikes-all of which were defended by both men.

They stopped and backed away. Boyafed took the opportunity to speak. "Your skill nearly equals my own, but I shall find your flaws. May I call you Sam?"

"Why not? If I don't like the way you say it, I can always end you."

The dark warrior chuckled. "I'm going to enjoy this battle far more than any other. I've never met a man who could stand before and use humor while he antic.i.p.ated his demise."

Sam smirked, "There will be no running on this Peak."

Without further delay, Sam lunged and delivered one swift strike after another. Again, each of these deadly advances was defended.

Boyafed returned Sam's attack, pushing Sam backward. Swipes, lunges, elbows, headb.u.t.ts, leg sweeps and a series of attempted stabs were delivered, but everything was thwarted.

Once again, both men began to circle. Not more than six breaths pa.s.sed before Boyafed attacked again. He kept coming until a small opening presented itself. Boyafed's blade slashed across Sam's left arm, just below his shoulder. The Order leader followed the cut with a right foot to the side of the king's leg. Sam fell, but managed to block a downward stab, and then he pushed Boyafed back before rolling to his feet. As he did, he sent an arching slash toward Boyafed's stomach. The dark paladin blocked the attack and then stepped back to give Sam the moments necessary to regain his composure.

The Order leader spoke. "You're the finest opponent I've faced. There is only one man I shall look forward to battling after this Peak. Lord Dowd is also our equal."

Sam spit on the ground. "You need to get past this Peak first." Sam searched deep within his soul. He knew he had to call upon his inner demon. He opened the monster's cage and allowed the beast to rush to the forefront of his mind. He lifted Kael and attacked. During this series of moments, he would do the pushing. Strike after strike, lunge after lunge, elbow after elbow, punch after punch-all defended, until finally, Sam managed to find an opening of his own. He lunged forward. Kael penetrated the left side of Boyafed's chest just below the collarbone and emerged from his back between his spine and his shoulder blade.

Boyafed ignored the pain as if nothing had happened. With Sam's blade stuck in his torso, the dark paladin used his right hand to send his sword arching toward Sam's head.

As the king reached out and caught Boyafed's right forearm with his left hand to stop the strike, he failed to account for Boyafed's left hand, which the paladin had used to secure his bone-handled dagger. With Sam's right hand still on Kael's grip, the Order's dagger pierced Sam's ribs on his right side. Boyafed released the dagger and then grabbed Sam's right arm with his left hand to keep the king from pulling Kael free from his chest and doing further damage.

The pain Sam felt was excruciating. Boyafed had laced the blade with poison, and the king could feel the burn as it began to course through his body.

Sam released Kael and grabbed Boyafed's throat, but this last effort to inflict damage was also defended. With one quick motion, the king's arm was pried away from the paladin's throat.

With every movement, the Order's dagger did further damage as the king's blood flowed out of the open wound.

Boyafed felt the fight was over when Sam dropped his arms. The dark paladin allowed the king to step back, but he left Kael buried in his chest until he was certain that Sam would not be able to make another advance.

The dark warrior grunted as he forced himself to reach into his boot. He tossed Sam a small vial full of a red potion. "Drink that, King of Brandor. It'll dull the pain and allow you to pa.s.s in peace. I shall ensure your body finds its way back to your General Absolute. You'll be given a proper Pa.s.sing Ceremony as per your customs. You have my word on that."

Sam looked at Boyafed after swallowing the liquid. With blood running down his chin, he lowered to his back. "Please. Tell my queen that I love her. Tell her I always have." With that, Sam looked to the sky for his final thought, I wish my father was here. I should've been a better son.

Boyafed watched the king's chest fall as the last bit of air escaped Sam's body. The Order leader drank a vial filled with a blue potion, and then he pulled Kael from his chest. Boyafed's cry filled the twilit sky as the anguish overwhelmed him. Falling to his knees, he removed another vial and poured the liquid into the open wound.

He crawled next to Sam's body and took a seat. "I shall always remember you, Sam. You were the first to wound me. You were a worthy adversary and deserved the t.i.tle, King. I shall tell tales of your greatness as I show the scar. What a tale it shall be."