"Enough?" Gellor asked after another quarterhour had passed. Both men were panting, sweat-covered. Neither had succeeded in another penetration of the other's defense.

"For now," Gord replied with a chuckle as he stepped back and put his point at rest upon the smooth strips of oak that floored the place.

Just under five and one-half feet tall, the darkhaired young man had sinewy muscles and lightning quick reflexes. Just like a panther, Gellor thought to himself. As strong as a leopard, as fast, as ferocious. Had any such cat the intelligence and reasoning ability that Gord possessed so amply, then that animal would be king of beasts and men alike. It made the grizzled veteran proud that his friend was so staunch a fighter for choice and liberty, the champion of Balance, the sworn foe of all who would oppress any other. Gellor knew that if Gord had cast his lot with Evil, then Tharizdun would be assured his reign of unyielding darkness upon all for eternity. Instead, the young adventurer had accepted the burden of opposing the ultimate wickedness. It was only a short time now before Gord would have to face the dreaded god of all Evil. It was a confrontation that boded ill. No man, regardless of his qualities, could face such a test with even a scant ray of hope.

Granted, Gellor thought to himself, the Lords of Balance had bestowed supernatural and magical devices and powers upon their champion. That he could actually receive and maintain unique forces and abilities of this sort was indicative of his heritage, of the legacy which made Gord more than a mortal. A glimmer of hope from the supernatural energies, a glistening of chance from his heritage and his innate desire. Was it a measurable chance? One in a thousand? The newly merged sword was an unknown quantity. And Gellor himself had to be added into the equation, since he would accompany Gord. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a real probability of success; if not, then what of the prophecy? If he had no chance of success, then why did the dark rulers of the nether spheres fear Gord's very survival, let alone his coming?