The Eye Of Luvelles Part 29

Their moment of excitement was short-lived. Payne smashed into an invisible barrier that existed high above the entrance and then fell to the ground beside it.

George and Kepler jumped to their feet. Before they could take their first step, a small, furry creature, the likes of which neither of them had ever seen, ran out, picked Payne's body up off the ground and then darted toward the entrance.

George raised his hand, a single arrow shot from his palm. The missile cut through the air at a high rate of speed, but it missed its target by a narrow margin as the creature turned the first corner inside the maze.

Kepler covered the distance. His paws thumped against the field every 30 paces or so before he launched into his next stride. The demon-cat pa.s.sed through the entrance to the maze and turned the corner in pursuit. He stopped, crouched in a guarded posture and then stared down the empty corridor. He growled and then shouted. "There's no one here! He's gone!"

The demon's eyes had changed from their normal glow to an intense, bright red. "George, don't come in here!" he shouted again, raising his voice louder than before. "You won't be able to see!"

George slid to a stop before he broke the barrier of the entrance. He took a moment to catch his breath. "Why?"

Kepler tried to return to the entrance, but as he rounded the corner, it was gone. All he could see was a brick wall that was made of large, gray stones. The cat snarled, "Where are you? Can you hear me?"

From outside the maze, George nodded, confused. "What do you mean? Of course, I can. You're standing right there yelling at me. Why are you acting so strange?"

Kepler sniffed the base of the walls. "I can't smell your scent. Everything has changed."

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about? You're right freaking there. What do you mean, everything has changed. Are you losing it?"

Kepler growled. "You know me better than that. Of course not. The Master of the Hunt would never lose it. Everything has changed. I can't see you from where I'm standing. You've disappeared."

George thought a moment. "Then why can you hear me?"

Kepler lowered to his haunches. His eyes flashed. "Why do you ask stupid questions? How should I know? You're the magic user! You tell me!"

George lifted his right hand in front of his face and moved his fingers as if the hand was talking. He whispered, "Blah, blah, blah ... how should I know? You're the magic user." After appeasing his need to mock the cat, he shouted, "Tell me what you're seeing!"

"It's pitch black in here. Your eyes aren't made for this environment. You will need to use your magic on them before you come in."

"I'm not coming in there until I know what you're talking about. What do you mean, it's pitch black? It's morning. There's plenty of sunlight left."

Again, Kepler growled in frustration. "When I pa.s.sed the entrance, everything went dark. There must be powerful magic employed beyond the barrier."

"What freaking barrier? I swear, I'm looking right at you!"

"That may be, but the entrance isn't normal."

"Explain!"

"From out there ... from where you're standing ... I saw a maze with leaf-covered walls. But now, I see heavy stones stacked on top of one another, and I'm standing in a dark corridor. I'm in some kind of underground dungeon, and there's no entrance."

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about? Can't you see the sky?"

Kepler's eyes flashed. "If I could see the sky, then I wouldn't have said the word 'underground,' now would I ... dumba.s.s!"

George smiled at the cat's insult. "Point made. What else are you seeing?"

"Just use your magic on your eyes, and come look for yourself."

"Why would I do that? We need to get you out of there."

Kepler shook his head and sighed, "Am I the only one with a brain? Didn't you just tell Payne that this was the only way to get to the Source's temple? You need to come in so we can prowl the maze. Have you become dense?"

"Bah! Smart a.s.s, I'm coming in." George waved his hands across his eyes and stepped through the entrance. The light changed to darkness as he pa.s.sed the barrier. Just as Kepler had said, the sky could not be seen.

The magic a.s.sisting George's vision allowed him to study his surroundings. The corridors of the maze were cold. Gray stones were stacked like giant bricks, and the walls were covered with moss. Water seeped through the ceiling, feeding its growth. Vines emerged through the floor and then snaked up the walls and across the ceiling before they disappeared back into the stone.

George stood next to the demon-cat. "d.a.m.n, Kep. This place is jacked-up."

The jaguar's eyes burned red hot as he looked down the corridor. "I don't have a good feeling about this."

George slapped his own forehead. "Ya think? Perhaps now you'll trust me when we're sitting around a campfire and I say, 'Kep, this place gives me the creeps.'"

Kepler ignored George's tone and moved ahead. "It's easy to see how that thing disappeared with Payne."

George nodded. "This is going to suck. Just watch where you're walking. I've seen places like this on Earth."

Kepler stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at the mage. "You've been in places like this? Perhaps you should be the one leading the way."

George shook his head. "Um ... not exactly. I should clarify. I've seen movies like this."

"Hmpf! Then you're just as lost as I am. Those movies you're always talking about aren't even real."

"Oh ... I forgot ... you're right ... this seems so real."

After listening to the cat growl, George continued. "Anyway, they were good movies. I don't care what you say. Let me tell you more about them. It'll keep our minds off the creepiness of this place."

As they pressed forward, George grinned. "There was this one movie. It was about this powerful mummy. You know ... the kind that curses everyone..."

Meanwhile, Brayson's Floating Office Brayson paced within the confines of his office high above Floren, and he had been since the Peak of Bailem the previous Peak. Three Peaks had pa.s.sed since Brayson sent word through Brandor's mirror, requesting a conversation with Morre. Michael was the one who received the request, and Brandor's General Absolute had a.s.sured the Head Master that Morre would be allowed access to the king's mirror.

Brayson's personal mirror, framed with the same wood his desk had been made from, filled with Morre's image. Morre had prepared for their conversation and had taken the moments necessary to clean himself up. His long, gray beard had been trimmed, his hair had been brushed, and his charcoal-colored robe had been recently purchased. The only thing Morre had forgotten to clean what was left of his teeth. The image of Morre's body fit within the surface of the mirror, yet the p.r.o.nounced wrinkles around the mage's eyes could still be seen.

Upon seeing Brayson's image, Morre lowered his head and bowed on one knee. "Head Master, I came as soon as I received word of your request to speak with me. I'm sorry it has taken so long. The general has seen to it that our conversation will remain private."

The Head Master nodded. "Please stand, Morre. It's been too long since last we spoke. I trust things are well for you and your brother?"

Brayson made a mental note as he watched Morre's reaction. He could see the pain as it appeared on the mage's face. "You haven't heard? My apologies. I should've found a way to contact you, Master Id."

"Please, call me Brayson. I'm your brother's friend, not his master any longer. We should converse as such."

"I would like that, but I fear my news is grim."

Brayson swallowed. "Tell me what I haven't been told."

A single tear escaped Morre's right eye. "My brother was murdered by someone who left him lying in his own blood. They found him mutilated in a smith's barn not far from Champions' gates. A chisel and a hammer were used to pry open his chest."

Brayson moved closer to the mirror and waved his hand. The heavy wooden chair behind his desk floated to him. Once seated, Brayson responded, "You say his chest was ripped open?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"What of his heart?"

"It was missing."

"Missing?"

"Yes, it was, but-"

Brayson interrupted. "Who on Grayham would have this knowledge?"

Morre looked confused. "What knowledge are you referring to?"

"I'm sorry, my friend, but I cannot answer your question. How long has it been since Amar's pa.s.sing?"

The mage lifted his hand to his chin in thought. "I've lost track of the Peaks, but if I was to guess, it has been at least half a season."

Brayson now knew that he had been deceived. His mind filled with rage as he thought about the imposter who had visited him in this very room not long ago. He stood from his chair and with an aggressive whip of his hand, sent the chair flying. The seat busted through one of the windows and then began its long fall to the land below.

An awkward series of moments pa.s.sed before Morre broke the silence. "I'm also angry about my brother's pa.s.sing. I had no idea you cared so deeply for him."

Brayson took a few long, deep breaths. "I'm going to find the person responsible for his end. I'll hunt him down and bring him to you myself so that you may have vengeance. Someone came to my office just the other Peak claiming to be your brother. He looked just like him. He even spoke as Amar would've. I've made many decisions thinking it was your brother who requested favors. Mark my words, Morre. I shall find this impostor, and he'll regret the Peak that he met me."

Morre nodded. "I would cherish the chance to meet my brother's killer. I want to know what kind of man would do such a thing. I hope I have the magic necessary to punish him when the moment arrives."

"Don't worry," the Head Master a.s.sured, "you will ... you will." Brayson waved his hand, the mirror went dark, and then he vanished.

Far below Brayson's office, just outside the school of magic's entrance, two male elves, both students, were having a conversation about the Peak's lesson. Brayson's chair slammed into the dirt behind them and splintered into many pieces that went flying in all directions. The elves grabbed hold of one another, startled. Once they realized how their embrace looked, they released their grip, straightened their robes and then turned to walk in opposite directions as if nothing ever happened, stepping over the debris as they rushed off.

West of the City of Inspiration The Coastline of Lake Lavan The White Chancellor appeared with the King of Lavan on the sh.o.r.eline of Lake Lavan, west of Inspiration. It was from this spot where the two leaders intended to begin construction on their bridge of gla.s.s that would extend southwest across the lake to the sh.o.r.eline north of the city of Lavan, and many workers were standing around waiting for instruction.

As the two leaders moved toward the beach, the workers parted to let them through. Gregory was the one to start the conversation as he acknowledged the men as they pa.s.sed. "What seems to be the problem, Heltgone?"

The overweight, halfling king pointed his chubby finger toward a boat that was floating off sh.o.r.e. "The workers have run into a problem. Their magic isn't strong enough to hold back the water. It's stopping them from moving forward with the construction of the first support."

Gregory played with the yellow rope that was holding his green robe shut as he responded. "Have they tried combining their power?"

Heltgone lifted his jeweled crown with a corathian sparrow that rested at its center and then scratched the top of his head. "They have on many occasions, but the magic needed to hold back the water is more than they can summon. They can push it back, but they cannot hold it long enough to set the stones."

Gregory's brow furrowed. "Well, we can't build a bridge without proper support, now can we? Let me think on this a moment."

Heltgone leaned over to grab a few pebbles that laid on the sh.o.r.e. To do so, he had to spread his legs to allow room for his belly to roll between them. After putting his free hand on his knee, he grunted as he pushed himself up. He tossed the pebbles into the clear water of the lake, and his right arm had to roll around his body to allow for its heft to pa.s.s. "Whatever solution you come up with needs to be safer than what we've tried. Six men were ended in the last attempt. The weight of the water crushed them when the magic collapsed."

"Have their families been compensated for their loss?"

"The treasurer is visiting with them as we speak."

Gregory nodded. A long series of moments pa.s.sed before he spoke again. "Perhaps we're going about this the wrong way. I think I know how to increase the magic we need to finish the job. I shall speak with the Ultorian King and ask him to offer a.s.sistance. Their kind has more than enough power to keep the water at bay."

Heltgone reached up to play with his goatee. He was about to respond, but before he could, Gregory's goswig, the lioness, Mykklyn, appeared with Lord Dowd at her side. The Paladin of Light was holding the bolt that killed Shaban in the palm of his hand.

Dowd did not waste any of his moments. He tossed the bolt at Gregory's feet.

With a simple motion of Gregory's hand, the projectile lifted from the ground and into his palm. "What's this?"

"It's a bolt from an Order crossbow. They tried to kill me."

"What? When?"

"This morning. In my garden. They missed, but killed my spirit-bull."

"Shaban has been ended?" The King of Lavan responded.

Dowd looked at Heltgone. His eyes were cold. "Yes! I was supposed to meet Boyafed earlier in the Peak, but found myself at the bottom of my well fighting for my existence."

"During what moments did this happen?" Gregory queried.

"As I said, this morning, before Early Bailem."

Gregory rolled the bolt in his palm. "Then my brother does intend to go to war."

Dowd shook his head. "The attempt on my being wasn't the work of your brother. Marcus wouldn't wield such a weapon. He would use his magic. This must have been an order given by Boyafed."

Mykklyn moved into a better position from which to speak. "If the Order wanted you ended, then they must have been planning this for a while. An attack of this nature isn't something Boyafed would order unless he intended to weaken the army. With you out of the way, he must feel that they would have the advantage."

Heltgone cleared his throat. "It appears there are larger problems to worry about than the construction of the bridge. I'll return home and have my Argont Commander put the city on notice. I'll wait for your command. If my army is needed, it'll be ready."

Lord Dowd lowered his head. "I appreciate your willingness to fight, Sire. I'll be sure to let you know if this is, indeed, a sign that war is approaching. I must figure out what Boyafed's true intentions are before I react."

The king patted Dowd on the arm. "I'm sure as long as you're around, we'll-"

Before the king could finish his statement, another bolt flew over Dowd's shoulder and pierced Heltgone's right eye. The king's end was instantaneous as his ma.s.s fell to the ground with an audible thud.

Dowd unsheathed his blessed sword and took a defensive posture. He pushed Gregory behind him as he searched for the origin of the projectile.

Gregory knelt next to the halfling king and put an invisible wall of force around himself and Heltgone as reached into one of the pockets of his robe to produce a small vial. As the chancellor lowered the vial toward the king's lips, he realized his intentions were unnecessary. He did not uncork the vial and placed it back into his pocket.

The workers were shouting from a location not far away. Dowd and Mykklyn rushed to see what the commotion was about. It was clear that they had seen what happened.

The bridge project leader, a large, male elf, made sure he had Dowd's attention. "Lord Dowd! Lord Dowd! I saw him! I saw him!"

"Speak, man! Who did this?" Mykklyn snarled.

"I saw a warrior dressed in Order armor. He appeared right over there." The elf pointed to an area near a mound of stones that had been stacked on the sh.o.r.eline. "It all happened so fast. He appeared, shot his bow and then disappeared just as quickly." The elf lifted his hand and presented a weapon. "He dropped this before he vanished."

Dowd took the crossbow and examined it. The symbol of a high ranking officer of the Order had been engraved on its stock. Angry, Dowd moved back to where the king's body was lying. "This makes twice they've tried to kill me." Frustrated, Dowd yanked the bolt out of the king's skull. What was left of Heltgone's eye was pulled free of his head and landed stretched across the king's face with the optic nerve still attached.

The white army leader frowned and then redirected his attention to Gregory. "This was meant for me, Chancellor."