Ascendants of Ancients Sovereign

CHAPTER 20

Warning to the

Barbarian

King of Bloodovain

LASIDIOUS APPEARED IN FRONT of the mage, Amar, the brother of Morre, whom Lasidious impersonated when last he visited Lethwitch. Amar worked in his brother’s store whenever he was on Grayham—the same store where George purchased the scrolls. Amar was a younger man than his brother. His hair was graying, but unlike Morre, he did not have a beard, weathered skin, nor did he smell.

Amar was startled when Lasidious appeared, but throughout his many seasons as a mage, he had come to expect the unexpected. He dismissed the shock and bowed before his god.

“Hello, Amar,” Lasidious said. “It’s been a while, my friend. How’s your brother?”

Amar kept his head lowered. “Hello, My Lord. He is well. To what do I owe the joy of your visit?”

“Please stand. I’m here to speak as friends, not as your god. I’m here to discuss what is to come.”

The mage rose. “I don’t understand.”

“I know, my friend. The other day I was in your store. I took a few scrolls and sold them to a man named George. There was a note left behind thanking your brother.”

“I know of the note, My Lord. My brother spoke of it. He said he was overcompensated for the scrolls. He was pleased with the transaction, and I have since heard my brother say he has made replacements. I would’ve paid closer attention to what was taken, but I had no warning of your visit. Why would a few insignificant scrolls cause your visit?”

“I’m glad your brother was pleased with the finances of the transaction, but this isn’t why I’ve come. The scrolls are of no consequence. The man I spoke of is seeking power. He will arrive in Lethwitch within 3 Peaks.”

The Mischievous One reached out and placed his right hand on Amar’s left shoulder. “George is the type of man you’ve been waiting for. I know you seek your own glory. This man could help you attain it. If you were to travel with him until it benefits you to part from his company, it would be wise for you to do so.”

“What else can you tell me of this man, My Lord?”

“His heart is as dark as your own, Amar. I have determined that you would be good counsel on his journey.” Lasidious removed his hand. “George travels with the undead cat, Kepler.”

“Kepler, My Lord? Kepler is a vicious killer who is without honor. He can’t be trusted? I’ve heard stories about the men he’s killed as they journeyed through his pass. The demon kills without mercy.”

Lasidious laughed. “Kepler can be trusted.” The god stopped chuckling and changed his countenance to something far more serious. “Amar, you have also killed without mercy, have you not?”

The mage nodded. “I forget with whom I speak, My Lord. Please forgive me.”

“There is no need for forgiveness.” The god held out the palm of his right hand. A small image of Kepler and George appeared on top of it. “The jaguar has honor, but this isn’t something you would know about. Like you said, you’ve only heard stories.”

Lasidious allowed the image to fade, and then he put his hand back on Amar’s shoulder. “The man I want you to travel with is ruthless, yet he, too, has honor. He’s not from this world, yet he possesses the ability to dominate its kingdoms. George has traveled from the past. He has also aligned himself with the beast, Maldwin, from inside the Cave of Sorrow. He also had an alliance with Kroger before he killed the ogre.”

“Do you mean Kroger from the Dark Forest, My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Kroger is a gentle giant. Why would this George end him? Why would I want to travel with a man who doesn’t respect his allies?”

“Tisk, tisk, tisk, Amar. You have also stolen breath from an ally or two.”

Amar hung his head. “My deepest apologies, My Lord. It’s not everyday I speak with someone who knows my secrets. How was George able to align himself with Maldwin? The creature’s visions are said to be deadly to all men.”

A proud smile appeared on Lasidious’ face. “George is immune to Maldwin’s visions. He needed the scrolls he purchased from your brother to protect Kroger’s mind, not his own. The giant was with him when he went into the cave. It was also at the cave where George killed Kroger by turning him to stone.”

Amar’s eyes widened. “Stone is a treasured power. Other than myself, there’s no one on Grayham who can command it. Does George use a staff or scrolls?”

Lasidious shook his head. “George commands the power without staff or scroll. But he’s finding it difficult to control it. His ability is natural and because of this, greatness follows him. He doesn’t even need to speak words.”

Amar could not believe his ears. “How’s this possible, My Lord?”

“How isn’t important, Amar. It would be wise for you to align yourself with George. You could be his counselor, and teach him to channel his power. You have been to Luvelles to train under the Head Master, and you understand the dark arts. You’re the most powerful mage roaming the three kingdoms of Southern Grayham ... I’ve seen to this, because I knew this day would come.”

Amar bowed. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me, My Lord.”

“No, Amar. I’m not here to ask anything of you. I’m here to inform you of things to come. It is my desire to see you develop into the man I know you’re capable of becoming. I would like you to consider my visit a suggestion … an simple idea to ponder. If you befriend George, your wisdom will be a great asset, and your rise to glory will follow.”

Amar was clearly excited. “I can’t wait to tell my brother. Morre will be proud of me.”

“I wouldn’t speak of this with your brother,” Lasidious suggested. “His service to his god is a fool’s service. Morre wouldn’t understand your desire to perfect the dark arts and seek power. It would be wise for you to keep your decision private. I have always looked fondly upon you, Amar. After all, we are friends, are we not?”

The mage’s head could not nod fast enough. “Oh, yes, My Lord, we are friends, although I’m surprised you believe me worthy. I’m your humble friend, and I live to serve you.”

Lasidious put his hand on Amar’s head. “Of all my subjects, your service I cherish the most. From this Peak forward, I extend my hand to you in friendship. You’re a free man, with free will, and I respect you as the mage you’ve become. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

The Mischievous One patted Amar on both shoulders. “Now ... the moments have come for you to acquire glory. Rise up, and make all men fear you.” Lasidious smiled. “I’ll watch from above as your biggest fan.”

Amar was happy with the way his lord spoke. “Perhaps it would be best if I set out to find this George right now, My Lord.”

Lasidious shook his head and then reminded the mage that George was not yet in town. The god suggested it would be wiser to gather the materials Amar would need to travel with his new ally. The Mischievous One watched as Amar ran from the store and into the night with his staff held high to light the way. He uttered only three, simple words before he left for his next destination, “What a cretin.” With that, Lasidious vanished.





The Next Morning

City of Bloodvain





Map Depicting the City of Bloodvain





Lasidious’ patience was wearing thin as he waited in his pen for the Barbarian King of Bloodvain to arrive. The Mischievous One had taken the form of a thick-horned, black bull that was due to enter combat with Senchae Bloodvain for the king’s daily training.

Lasidious thrashed around inside the corral, playing the part of the enraged animal as he tore the fencing apart. When the handlers approached, he sent them flying, but he was careful enough not to throw them hard enough that they would break anything.





Senchae Bloodvain

King of the Barbarians





The general of the barbarian army entered Bloodvain’s arena. The holes in his sandals let in the sand that was covering the fighting surface as he approached his king. Taren Fergus was a large man, but he was still two hands shorter and not as muscular as Senchae. Nevertheless, like all barbarian warriors who lived to tell the tale after they entered the arena, Fergus’ shoulders were broad, his arms were well-defined, and his victories over the 10 foes he had slaughtered had all been gruesome and bloody.

Fergus’ skin was not as dark as his king’s. He maintained short hair and a clean shaven face, but he still had rugged features that most barbarian women enjoyed. He had a presence about him that demanded respect, and the men of the army were quick to comply with his orders.

Taren surveyed the arena with his deep, brown eyes that were shadowed by heavy brows. The tops of the evergreen trees were poking above the wooden stands that surrounded the oval fighting surface. The trees had been groomed for a purpose. They encircled the arena and swayed in the breeze as they provided shade for more than 3,000 souls who attended the fights. The general took in a deep breath of his surroundings and then adjusted his gaze across the arena at an enclosure that had been built into the stands next to the fighting surface. One of the three pens inside the enclosure was holding an angry beast, but this corgan-bull was much larger than those the king normally trained with.

“It appears you’re facing a spirited one on this Peak, My King,” the general remarked. “I’ve never seen this bull before. Even from where I stand, I can see his stare begging for battle.” Fergus reached out and patted Senchae on the back. “He’s bigger than the others.” The general smirked. “Your death will be glorious. I may even mourn.”

Senchae chuckled. “Perhaps you should be the one facing him to demonstrate how one might attain victory.”

Taren shook his head. “That would be unthinkable, My King. Stealing your enjoyment of the kill would be impolite of me. As the leader of your army, I should demonstrate manners, wouldn’t you agree?”

Fergus looked toward the king’s box at the officers of the army who had chosen to attend the king’s training. The men often gathered to watch the kingdom’s ultimate warrior during his Peakly workouts. “They are here for you, Sire ... not me.” The general bowed his head. “Besides, I could only aspire to match your skill.”

Senchae rolled his eyes. “Fergus, your lips are dry. You pay far too much attention to my ass.”

As the general laughed, the king directed his attention to the royal box and gave his officers a quick nod to acknowledge their presence. He then removed the pelt from his shoulders and pulled back his long, black hair into a ponytail.

Senchae was an enormous man at eight-foot four inches. He weighed nearly 550 pounds, and his muscles bulged. He was well known throughout his kingdom for his ability to fight for long periods without tiring.

Throughout the Kingdom of Bloodvain, it was customary for a barbarian to fight to the death, and today would be no exception. King or not, Senchae would fight wearing only furs to cover his manhood. If today was his Peak to die, then so be it. He would beat the first bull to death with his fists and then feed it to the leaders of his army.

The king studied the bull’s physique. “He’s a fine beast and worthy of dying by my hands.” Senchae looked at the general. “I hear your son, Churnach, conquered yesterday. He makes my kingdom proud.”

General Fergus responded. “It was his eighth victory since you surrendered the champion’s hide. He fights to glorify all barbarians, Sire.”

Senchae reached out and grabbed the back of Fergus’ arm. “Tell your son that I see weakness in his training. He must shed blood often to maintain his dominance. Tell him that I’ll instruct him if he so wishes.”

“My King, that is a most generous offer. I don’t know what to say.”

“Perhaps you should say, ‘I’ll tell my son of your desire to see him succeed.’ How does that sound?”

“I will say exactly that,” Fergus responded. “Churnach speaks of training as vigorously as you, Sire. Yet his best efforts fall short. I believe many moments will pass before he’s able to match your dominance.”

“Let’s hope this isn’t true. I believe your son could be as fine a champion as I. For now, let’s kill this beast so that we may feast.”

“As always, I look forward to watching its blood stain the sand, Sire. We shall feast heartily tonight before we bed our women.”

Senchae shook his head. “You bed the women, Fergus. I shall stay loyal to my queen. I don’t wish to suffer her wrath because these eyes wandered. She can be forceful, for a woman. A man who respects his love is respected in return and lives a good life.”

The men laughed at the fantasy of the queen’s power over the king. But the general knew his king was loyal. Senchae’s love for his queen was unconditional, and he would never gaze in the direction of another bosom. The king would forever hold true to his vows.





Now, fellow soul ... as loving as Senchae Bloodvain was to his queen, he was also the type of man who governed his army and High Council with a strong hand, but he did it with respect.

Unlike his grandfather, Bude Bloodvain, and most of the kings before him, Senchae achieved this respect inside the arenas of the Barbarian Kingdom over the last 15 seasons prior to assuming the throne. Every fight had been to the death, and the vanity of the barbarian people kept the challengers coming. With more than 80 kills to his name, Senchae remained, even though he did not compete in the arenas any longer, the most feared champion to have ever lived.

Senchae was the strongest and fastest barbarian the kingdom had ever seen. Since he was crowned, Senchae ruled while he still trained harder than any other.

Unlike the kings before him, Senchae believed that the respect of his army should be earned and not commanded. The king’s reputation was so beloved that his kingdom was loyal. He was proud, a great husband, an even better father, and like all barbarians, he believed killing was sport.

The leaders of his army and the High Council were allowed strong opinions. Senchae always chose to listen before he made a decision, but the men knew that once his decision was made, it was final.





“General, let dinner out of its pen. I shall sport with our meal before I beat the life from it.”

“Yes, Sire.” The general looked across the arena and shouted, “Release the beast!”

Lasidious exited the pen where he had been waiting patiently, or at least as patiently as an angered bull would wait.

“The beast seeks to dominate you, Sire,” the general shouted as he moved to sit in the king’s box. “Best watch your backside, his horns look to be a perfect fit.”

“Ha! You continue to desire to trade places, Fergus? I’m sure such intercourse with the beast’s horns would pleasure you far more than I. The way you look upon this animal feels amorous. I dare say you’re in love.”

The other members of the army laughed.

The general accepted the cut and forced the dark skin around his eyes to remain relaxed. “Witty, My King. I must remember with whom I jest.”

“Indeed, Fergus. My respect for you as the leader of the army stops at beastly pleasure. Perhaps you should focus on other matters.”

Fergus crossed his arms, clearly annoyed. “Perhaps.”

Senchae’s smile widened as Lasidious charged. Bloodvain grabbed a horn in each hand, then used the beast’s momentum to throw the bull-god to the ground.

As the Mischievous One landed on his side, a crushing punch pounded the side of his neck. Keeping in character, the bullish deceiver bellowed as he jumped to his feet. He dug his hooves into the sand, snorted, shook his head for effect and then charged again. He would allow the king to throw him once more.

The general and his men cheered for their king as the bull slid to a stop and absorbed yet another punch to his neck.

Lasidious knew the next part of his plan would not face interference. Again, Lasidious rose from the ground, shook the sand from his flanks and then charged. He allowed Bloodvain to grab his horns, but during this series of moments, he held firm as the big man tried to twist for the throw.

When the king could not complete the maneuver, Senchae was caught off balance. The bull-god drove the king into the ground and then rose up to drive his head into the king’s groin, careful not to do any long-term damage, but he was forceful enough to draw blood.

Seeing their king was in trouble, the general ordered his men to stay put. He quickly reminded them that it would be an insult to assist their king. The men lowered back to their seats and obeyed without question.

The god threw his weight onto Senchae, putting as substantial amount of his 3,100 pound frame on top of the barbarian to keep him pinned and then watched the massive man struggle.

Senchae punched the bull as hard as he could to make it move, but his blows were ineffective. He could not find the leverage to injure the opposition.

Lasidious just sat still. He was careful not to put too much weight on the king. He waited for Senchae to tire, but the king never did.

Eventually, Senchae realized the bull was not fighting back. He relaxed and waited for the beast to get off, but that was not about to happen. Instead, the king was caught off guard when the bull spoke.

“King of Bloodvain,” Lasidious whispered.

Senchae shook his head, closed his eyes and then opened them.

The bull continued. “I bring news of your demise. There is weakness beneath your crown. You are unworthy of ruling your nation of barbarians. In the Kingdom of Brandor a man is seeking power. This man will kill your champion, and then he will kill you.”

“How do you speak, beast?” the king queried.

Lasidious snorted, “Bind your tongue, barbarian!”

Senchae’s eyes widened with disbelief as the bull continued. “Killing you isn’t my intent. You shall listen, or this encounter will end with your last breath. Do you understand?”

Senchae’s pride took over. “Who are you to speak to a king in this manner? Get off me!”

Lasidious lowered the point of one of his horns against Senchae’s throat. He pressed and allowed the barbarian to fight against the pressure.

Struggle as he may, Senchae could not better his position. Defeated, the king stopped contesting. “I shall listen.”

Lasidious enjoyed the despair in Senchae’s voice. “In the Kingdom of Brandor, a man is seeking power. He will visit your city. This human is to be feared. He’s coming for you. The reputation of your kingdom will be damaged if your champion falls to him in battle. I know you have your laws, but you must handle this yourself.”

Again, Senchae’s pride swelled. “How do I know you speak the truth?”

Lasidious pressed his horn deeper against the king’s throat and waited for a response, one that came without hesitation.

“Stop! I’m listening,” Senchae gasped.

Lasidious released the pressure against the king’s throat. “You’ll know this man when you see him. He travels with the undead cat, Kepler. You’re familiar with this demon. He’s the beast your grandfather hired into his service to retrieve the unicorn horn. The cat now serves this human. This swine of a man can fight like no other. His looks are deceiving. He could destroy you.”

Lasidious snorted again, ensuring the snot from his nostrils landed on Senchae’s face. After allowing the king to wipe it away, he continued. “I’ve come a long way to deliver this message.” He looked down at the king’s groin. “I’m sure your unicorn horn will dull the pain I’ve left behind.”

Senchae watched as the bull-god rose and walked away. The beast exited the fighting surface, passed through the holding pen and then followed the tunnel down into the stables beneath the arena floor.

Senchae stood and followed, but when he got to the stables, the bull was nowhere to be seen. The king was left standing alone, angry and confused.

Two and a Half Peaks Later

The Town of Lethwitch

When George and Kepler arrived just before the Peak of Bailem, the people of Lethwitch were stirring. Kepler had to stay outside of town because of the reaction his presence would create. It was hard for the demon to move unnoticed during the height of the Peak. There were not enough shadows to prowl within.



The excitement in the air was evident as George followed the crowd to the outskirts of town, east of the Cripple River. Cheering erupted from inside an arena. George wanted to go inside, but lacked the coin to get in. He was forced to live vicariously through those who went in and out. After speaking with some of the people, he realized the fights were like the gladiatorial combats that had been held in ancient Rome.





Now, fellow soul ... for those of you who are not familiar with ancient Rome, it was a civilization that lived on the destroyed world called Earth. Unlike that civilization, for the most part, the gladiators of Southern Grayham were free men. These combatants were glory seekers, and for as long as anyone could remember, the games had always been a part of Southern Grayham’s culture. However, there was an arena in the town of Empire where criminals were forced to fight.





George needed to find more of this world’s coin if he was to gain entrance to the fights. The competition was supposed to last 2 Peaks, so the arena was the perfect place to pass his moments while he waited for Kepler’s skeleton warriors to arrive at the Cave of Sorrow.

With malice in his heart, George headed back into town to a familiar spot, and it was not long before he was standing outside The Old Mercantile. Since it was the middle of the Peak, he would need to employ a different approach. He walked into the store to take a look around. To his delight, the store was nearly empty. Everyone must be at the fights, he thought.

There were only two people in the store: an elderly gentleman behind the same counter he had robbed and an older woman. By the way she stocked the shelves, her attention to detail suggested she had worked there a while. George would have wagered that she was the man’s wife and also one of the mercantile proprietors.

The old man came out from behind the counter. “Hello. How may I be of service?”

The woman heard the greeting, stopped what she was doing and moved to stand next to her husband. “Hello, young man. It’s a beautiful Peak. Are you enjoying yourself?”

Well aren’t these two clowns sticky sweet, George thought before he responded. “You’re right. It is a lovely Peak. I have been thoroughly enjoying myself. And how are you?”

The old man reached into his pocket, removed a coin and then flipped it across the tops of his fingers while he responded. “We’re trying to clean up so we can get to the arena. Shouldn’t you be at the fights, young man?”

“Oh, probably. I’ve just been busy, I suppose. I’m looking for some gloves, and I thought a place like this would have a pair. Do you think you could help me out?”

“Sure we can,” the gentleman replied as he looked at his wife. “Jannica, why don’t you continue what you were doing while I help this young man.” He redirected his gaze back to George. “My name is Carldon. We have a variety of gloves. Come with me.” As he finished his statement, Carldon dropped his coin.

Jannica shook her head as she watched the Helmep roll across the floor and then excused herself to return to her duties.

Once Carldon retrieved the coin, he led George to the gloves. They were on display near the boots that were sitting on a shelf near the center of the room.

George surveyed the rest of the store as they walked toward the shelf. No one else had entered the establishment behind him, which was great, and better still, Jannica was adjusting the boots that were across from the gloves. George took a deep breath, Could I be any luckier? Someone is smiling down on me. He thought and then paused for just a moment to rethink. Well, smiling up at me anyhow.

Amused, George reached out and touched Carldon on the back of his neck, but the transformation was not instantaneous. However, he was lucky. He had picked a spot near the base of Carldon’s skull, and that was the only reason the old man was unable to react. Every joint in Carldon’s body relaxed, and it was clear to George that the old man was going to collapse.

George quickly stepped across the aisle toward Jannica. He needed to take her out before she heard her husband’s body hit the floor. With her back to him, George reached around and placed his right hand over the old woman’s mouth, turning her lips and the tip of her tongue to stone. During the same moments, he tried to use his left hand to touch the spot on the back of Jannica’s neck that he had on her husband’s, but it did not work. The old woman flinched as soon as his right hand touched her mouth.

George had to think fast. He grabbed Jannica, wrapped his arms around her to subdue her and then pulled her backward. With the old woman off balance, George adjusted his grip, but he kept his right arm around her neck to maintain control. With her back against his chest, he used his free hand to touch her again and again wherever he could to try to stop the confrontation, but the grayness was not spreading as fast as he wanted it to.

Despite her pain, Jannica thrashed wildly. She kicked George in the shins with the heels of her shoes and also knocked more than one pair of boots off the shelves. Her right fist smashed into George’s groin and then clubbed the murderer upside his head. But no matter how much heart Jannica displayed to rid herself of her attacker, the transformation eventually ended the confrontation. The stone spread to the upper portion of her spine and everything else that had not yet turned fell limp.

Disappointed by how classless Carldon and Jannica’s deaths were, George whispered in Jannica’s transforming ear as he lowered her to the floor, “I’m sorry, but I need the cash. I would’ve killed you quicker if I knew how.”

George looked across the aisle at the old woman’s husband. Carldon’s transformation was nearly complete, and all that remained to turn was everything below his knees. Yet, somehow, Carldon’s stone eyes were still speaking volumes. They shouted his despair and expressed his disgust. The look on Carldon’s face was so convicting that George was forced to look away. “Stop judging me!” George demanded. “You don’t know me. Nor do you know what I’ve been through.”

The murderer was compelled to fight against Carldon’s silent damnation. George stepped forward and kicked the old man in the head. It separated from the rest of the statue and tumbled across the floor. The sound the stone made as it bounced against the wooden planks was loud enough to send George running to the front of the store. He stuck his head out the window and looked up and then down the cobblestone street.

A sigh of relief followed. The street was quiet, and the wooden shutters of the other businesses were shut and locked. Other than a goat that was munching on hay and chained to a nearby wagon, no one had heard a thing. “Right the hell on,” George uttered, “I’m a lucky bastard.”

George did not hesitate. He reached up and brought down the shutter that was above the front window. He locked it and then pulled the front doors closed after he made a sign to hang outside. The sign read:

Closed for the Fights

Will reopen in 3 Peaks

With the sign in place, George headed for the money drawer. Sure enough, the couple was just as trusting as before. An amount equal to 14 Owain was collected and shoved inside a pair of socks that he grabbed off a nearby shelf.

Before George stepped out the back door to bolt it shut, he looked across the room at his victims. He shook his head and whispered, “I’m sorry. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong series of moments. You didn’t deserve to die.”

George was about to shut the back door when he realized what he had forgotten. “Holy crap ... the damn gloves,” he mumbled. “Way to go, dumbass.” He reentered the store and grabbed a pair.

After the back door was locked, he moved through the alleyway that was behind the businesses. Once he felt like he had put enough distance between himself and the Mercantile, he leaned against the back wall of an old shed.

What the hell’s wrong with you, George? he thought as he chastised himself. That was murder. You’re not on a good path, you idiot. Abbie would not approve. A moment later, he justified, I just won’t make it a habit.

Shaking off the thought of his daughter’s disapproval, a new thought entered his mind. I wonder what Athena’s up to. I should buy her a gift.

After a bit of searching, he found some flowers and headed for the inn where Athena worked. His moment of arrival was terrible. She was not there, but the lady behind the counter recognized him. “Hello, George. If you’re looking for Athena, she won’t be back until tomorrow evening.”

Susanne’s brown eyes fell onto the flowers. “Those are beautiful. Are they for my sister?”

George smiled as he thought, Finally … something around here that’s the same as home. Flowers mean something here. “Yes, they’re for your sister. I’ll attach a note since she’s not here.”

George reached over the counter and grabbed the quill that was next to Susanne’s hand. As he did, he made sure the outside of his glove brushed against her skin. He thought, Right on, she didn’t change. He began to write.


Dear Athena,

I wanted to give you a gift to let you know that you’re on my mind. I’m sorry I missed you, but I’ll be back tomorrow night. I hope you’ve longed for me as much as I’ve longed for you.

With fondness,

George

Feeling a bit bummed, George said goodbye to Athena’s sister and left for the arena. Tomorrow night was a long wait. He wanted to see Athena now. But after thinking it through, he remembered he could not control his ability. Athena’s absence was for the best, because he could not kiss her anyway.

After making his way back to the arena, George was about to buy his way inside when a familiar voice shouted. “Oh, my Lord in Heaven! George Nailer, is that you? I thought you were a goner!”

George rolled his eyes and then turned around. As he watched Shalee approach, he thought. Great! Here comes the blonde ditz. Why would Texas even claim a ho like her? I hate annoying women.

Shalee continued. “Goodness-gracious ... the way your skinny butt fell through that hole in the temple scared me half-to-death. I would’ve sworn that I’d never see you again. Are you okay? Did you bonk anything?”

Though Shalee’s voice annoyed George half to death, he did like what she was wearing. She had on a pretty white dress and a black sweater that looked like it was made of lace. The outfit was nowhere close to what the other women in town were wearing. Shalee’s fashion was definitely a step above the rest. The dress clung to her bosom and hugged her waist. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and exposed her neck.

George put on a pleasant smile as Shalee stopped in front of him. “I was wondering what happened to you. Looks like you figured out how to add a little kick to the clothes everybody wears around here.”

Shalee looked down. “Oh, this old thing,” she said while she pulled at the fabric. “It was a gift. Sam gave it to me after he won his first fight. It tickles me pink how he spoils me. I had to adjust the waist and bodice, plus I took the sleeves off the dress. I even made this sweater from an interesting material that I found at an adorable, little shop called The Old Mercantile. The place looked so rugged, but there was a sweet lady there that had some material locked away inside a trunk. Poor thing. After I left, I heard that someone robbed her and her husband and took all their money.”

George shook his head and frowned. “That’s terrible. How could someone do something like that? Can you believe that?”

“I know. Right?” Shalee changed the subject. “Anyhoo ... I think the women around here like my fashion. You wouldn’t believe how many of them have come up to me to ask me about it. Maybe I can start a trend. How does this sound to you? Just imagine a sign above the door of my own shop: Shalee’s Purdy Prada? Can’t you feel the ring to it?”

George had ignored most of what Shalee had said. He was thinking about Sam winning his first fight. “So ... Sam is fighting now? Is he fighting here, too?”

Shalee frowned. “You need to learn how to entertain a lady’s ambitions.”

George shrugged. “I don’t care about you opening a shop. That’s girl crap. Tell me about Sam.”

“Fine,” Shalee huffed. “I’ll tell you about him, but first, you’ve got to tell me what happened to you after you fell through the floor. You had to have bonked something.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah, George thought, and then he made up a lie. “I fell into a room and was knocked out. The next thing I knew, I was in this town. Nothing too exciting has happened since. It’s actually been kind of boring. So what about Sam?”

Shalee rolled her eyes. “You just don’t get it, do you? At least you could’ve said something nice about my outfit. Anyway, I’m not here to educate the hopeless.”

Shalee crossed her arms. “Sam and I have been working to gain the fame he needs to win an audience with the King of Brandor. I’ve been working on controlling my new power with my new friend here.” She held up her staff. “Precious, I’d like you to meet, George. Just ignore his rudeness.”

The jerk was intrigued. “Shalee, what do you mean by your ‘power,’ and when did you start talking to sticks?”

Shalee grinned. “I’ve become a sorceress-in-training. I’m excited about it, too. And I’m good at it. I’ll show you what I can do sometime. I bet you’ll be impressed.”

“That sounds crazy,” George responded. “So are you going to tell me about Sam, or what?”

Shalee started to tap her foot on the ground. “Sam’s fine! He’s been fighting in the kingdom’s arenas. He fought yesterday and won his second fight. He has another one tomorrow. He loses his mind when he gets in there, but fighting is necessary to gain an audience with the King of Brandor. I swear it takes me forever to calm him down afterward. He gets so enraged. It’s scary to watch, and he’s killed two men.”

George smirked. “Sounds like he needs an anger management course.”

“I agree. Well, I kind of agree. He has killed his last two opponents, and he’s becoming well-known. Last night, everywhere we went, people treated him like a celebrity. The people of this world love barbarism. I don’t understand it. It makes me sick.”

George’s brow furrowed. “Are we talking about the same guy? I know Sam is a tough guy and all, but I didn’t think he was that much of a stud.”

Shalee nodded. “Oh, he’s a stud alright. But there’s one big difference. The God of War, Mosley, gave Sam some gifts. One of them increased the size of his body. He is much bigger than when you last saw him.”

“I thought the God of War was Bassorine,” George replied.

Shalee nodded. “He was, or at least he used to be. Bassorine was destroyed, and the wolf took his place.”

“Wolf? What wolf?”

“Oh, sorry ... Mosley is the wolf that was part of the statue in the temple,” Shalee informed. “You’d like Mosley, George. Sam and I traveled with him before he ascended.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You’ve traveled with a god?”

“That’s what I said,” Shalee gloated. “But I know what you mean, though. Sometimes I sit in my room and think that this all has to be some sort of dream or crazy fantasy. It’s hard to believe anything around here is real. It’s even harder to believe that we’ve been on Grayham for only 14 Peaks, and so much has happened.”

George chuckled. “You sound like a native ... spouting off about Peaks and everything.”

Shalee grinned. “Well, hanging out with Sam rubs off on you. He insists we speak like everybody else so we don’t insult anyone.” A moment later, the expression on Shalee’s face changed. “Sometimes, I can’t stop myself from crying. I miss home.”

“I’ll second that emotion,” George reinforced. “I miss home, too.”

Shalee looked down at George’s hands. “Why are you wearing gloves? It’s kind of warm for that, don’t you think? It’s not very fashionable.”

“You and your stupid fashion,” George growled. “It’s a long story, so don’t ask.”

“Fine!”

George crossed his arms and tapped his foot on the ground to mirror Shalee’s attitude. “Are you going to finish telling me about Sam, or not?”

Shalee dropped her hands to her side and stopped fidgeting. “I would take you to see him, but he’s training right now, and I’m waiting for Helga so we can watch the fights.”

“And who’s Helga again?”

“Helga’s my instructor. I’ve been training so much lately that I need a break. That’s why we’re here. Apparently, Helga likes to watch the fights.”

“Doesn’t sound like you have anything in common,” George replied.

“Sure we do,” Shalee rebutted. “Helga likes my fashion, so that makes her okay with me in my book. I’ve even got her wearing it now.” She tapped the butt end of Precious on the ground. “All kidding aside, George, you’re welcome to meet Helga and sit with us. I’ll buy you an ale, if you’d like, and I’ll finish telling you about Sam.”

“I’d like that,” George replied. “Maybe we could all have dinner and catch up.”

Shalee smiled. “Sam would’ve stopped you right then. The natives around here don’t use the word maybe. They all say perhaps.”

George just rolled his eyes. “Whatever!”

Later that Evening

South of Lethwitch

Sam was with BJ in a farmer’s field just south of town when Shalee showed up and told Sam about George. The fighter was intrigued to know that George was alive, and he was interested in meeting for dinner.



Tossing his wooden stave to the ground, Sam proceeded to get dressed and then tended to BJ’s wounds. “It looks like the old man has gone soft on me,” Sam joked as he applied the healing mud to the trainer’s leg.

BJ grumbled, “Give me a couple gifts from the gods, and watch what I do to you. If you weren’t blessed, I’d beat you senseless.”

Sam and Shalee laughed. After a few moments passed, BJ lightened up. They headed out to meet George for dinner.





SAM and SHALEE are making their way to a tavern across town to have dinner with George who is waiting for them to arrive.

Amar is sitting at the bar. The mage is working up the courage to introduce himself to George. Lasidious is also present. The god is sitting inside an invisible veil. He is curious as to how George will react to Amar.





CELESTRIA has retired to her room that was provided by the witch family. She is having a pleasant conversation with two squirrels as they eat nuts she has set out for them. Her conversation with the squirrels is a wonderful stress reliever. Her interactions with the witches are driving her mad. She is counting the Peaks until her son is born.





MOSLEY left his team after they had yet another meeting. The gods were all in agreement. Mosley will visit Keldwin, the King of Brandor.





ATHENA is singing as she washes the dishes at her mother’s home. She is excited about the flowers that were delivered to her from work. She cannot wait to see George again. She has read the note over and over, anxious for her shift to start tomorrow night when George promised to return.





SENCHAE BLOODVAIN is holding his unicorn horn close to his groin. The healing power of the horn is soothing the pain, but he cannot believe how black and blue his inner thighs are. Since the bull’s departure, the king has been contemplating the Lasidious’ words. Senchae is also struggling with his immense pride.

Never before has Senchae been in a near-fatal position. Although his men do not regard him any differently—their respect still intact—the memory of the encounter gnaws at Senchae. He would have preferred an honorable death to the bull’s mere departure. But ending his own life would be cowardly, so his only option is to swallow this bitter pill.

Thank you for reading this edition of the Grayham Inquirer