The Eye of Luvelles - By Phillip Jones

CHAPTER 1

Soul to Soul

Fellow Soul ...

... I’m pleased to see that you’ve decided to join me for the second of many stories. When last we visited the Worlds of the Crystal Moon, you were left with some unanswered questions. As we move forward, I offer these words of warning. This story is not for the fainthearted. It requires a mind with an ardent wit—one with the ability to follow the manipulations of the gods and those involved in the events that inspired the telling of this tale.

Even I have found the revelations, which were proclaimed as fact, to be disturbing. I struggle with the command to deliver these supposed truths—for pieces of this story do not sit well within the depths of my being.

I beg you. Give me your undivided attention, for I hope to find peace while sharing this story with you.

Your friend, and fellow soul inside the Book of Immortality,

Phillip E. Jones

Southern Grayham

The City of Brandor

Just After Dawn

AS THE QUEEN ENTERED the throne room, the king sheathed his blessed blade and then extended a hand to each of his guards to help them off the cold, castle floor. Once they had been dismissed from training, Sam moved to look out the stone-framed window to catch his breath.

The cobblestone streets leading away from the castle were quiet. The smell of greggled hash and eggs could be savored as the aroma escaped the kitchen window below and made its way to the king’s nose.

Hearing the footsteps of his queen, Sam smiled as he turned from the window to give Shalee a good morning kiss. “Hello, beautiful,” he said, reaching out to brush the queen’s cheek.

Before Shalee could respond, a familiar voice called out. “My King! My Queen!” Michael entered the throne room as the last of the guards limped past him on their way out. The general’s walk was filled with purpose as he moved across the room to take a knee at the base of the steps leading up to the thrones.

Michael was strong, a bold man who held the position of General Absolute in Brandor’s army. He wore his best chain armor, and a black cape with gold trim was draped across his back. The Crest of Brandor sat inside a golden shield that had been embroidered at the center of the cape—the scales of justice.

“Speak, Michael,” Sam commanded as he walked away from the window to ascend the steps to the throne. The king was large, or at least he was considered large for a human, but small in stature compared to the barbarians of the north. Sam’s brown hair and brown eyes complemented a handsome face that rested atop a powerful and well-defined frame.

“The news I bring is good, My King. The army’s advance on Bloodvain is promising. The barbarians are surrendering as news of Senchae’s demise spreads across their kingdom. There are those who have chosen to fight, but their numbers are scattered. They’re disorganized, with no real leadership, and they have proven to be no match for our legions. It’s only a matter of moments before all of Southern Grayham lives in service to your crown, Sire.”

Sam motioned for a servant to bring him a mug of ale. “Have the two missing pieces of the Crystal Moon been found?”

“No. We continue to search. It’s as if Seth’s lair is a neverending maze. The serpent had no knowledge that George hid the crystals there.” A smile appeared on Michael’s face. “There is other news.”

“I’m listening.”

“In an effort to show his willingness to cooperate, Seth led the army to a shaft filled with coin.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Why would a pit of snakes have a shaft filled with coin? Does their species have a use for it?”

Michael grinned. “I’ve never thought about that.” The general scratched his head to organize his thoughts and then continued. “Seth’s race has always sold their poison and various forms of plants that grow in the marsh to Merchant Island. Much of this vegetation has healing properties. It is transported by the Merchant Angels and eventually makes its way to the Priestess of Harvestom. The serpents do this because the taxes from this exchange are split between the kingdoms throughout all of Grayham and this keeps us ‘two-legs’ from crossing the serpents’ borders.”

The general chuckled. “It never dawned on me that they may not need coin. But since the coin has been thrown into a shaft for all these seasons, it appears selling their goods is solely for the purpose of being left