Phoenix Rising

by Alec Peterson

  Where she had once seen only bindings over his eyes, now there were dozens of tiny shards of colored glass that morphed into different patterns and reformed. The likeness of pupils and sclera would emerge, assembled from minuscule pieces of crystal before they would swirl and then fade away to be replaced by other seemingly random shapes and patterns. The effect was hypnotic as the prismatic shards spun transformed like a kaleidoscope.

  It was bizarre. And alien. And beautiful.

  “Violette?”

  His voice broke the spell and Ceyrabeth shook herself violently to clear it; he was delirious. She turned her back on Atiya, who had stood like a deactivated golem under her onslaught and went to crouch by Sul. Ignoring the fact that she had no idea who Violette was and there wasn’t a baby anywhere in the Phoenix Legion that she remembered seeing, she reassured him, "I promise."

  "Good." A brief smile flickered over his face, "She learns so fast now...remembers everything. Violette? Why can't I see? It… hurts, Violette!" He seized her hand, and she was completely unsurprised to find it already burning with heat from fever.

  "It's time to rest now," Ceyrabeth patted the back of his hand gingerly, nodded when Mathias tilted a vial in Sul's direction. "Just relax."

  "When will it stop?" He rasped.

  Ceyrabeth felt the change like an electric charge in the air. One moment Sul was talking to the mysterious ‘Violette’ and the next, she would have bet her left arm that he knew exactly who she was.

  The honest truth was that the pain would likely never end in Sul's case but she didn’t have to decide whether or not to tell him that- Mathias waved the vial under Sul's nose and the Captain slipped back into unconsciousness. Ceyrabeth gingerly lowered him to the ground.

  "Red poppy," Mathias said to her questioning glance. "It'll help with the pain too, but not for long."

  "Help me get him up," She replied. "Quinlan!"

  "Here," The answer was a bit sullen in Ceyrabeth's ears, but she let it slide.

  "I'm taking Eregost."

  "The demon horse?!" Quinlan recoiled.

  She rolled her eyes, "Out of all the things we’ve seen and that's what gets you?" She huffed, "Yes, the demon horse. Help me get him..."

  "No."

  Ceyrabeth's eyebrows almost hit her hairline. "No?"

  "No. You may be willing to jump into a poisonous bog for your new Captain, but I'm certainly not going to do anything that will prolong his life span."

  Ceyrabeth bit her lip against the explosion of fury that sent stars skittering across her vision. "Fine," She replied through the taste of blood, metallic across her tongue. "Then get your arses on those horses and ride to Torvalen. Or are you willing to let them die too?"

  Ceyrabeth saw the flicker of indecision on Quinlan's face before he nodded consent. "Torvalen, then Daymore Dolor. What do we tell Carmilla?" He asked.

  "The truth, of course."

  The truth that would brand both her and Keiran traitors, that would spell the end of the life that she had worked so hard for. Quinlan's face softened with pity as he nodded again and swung up into the saddle of the nearest horse. Tregan and Mathias followed him. "Strength of Imperius Militant be yours, Ceyrabeth."

  "And with you all." That was all she trusted herself to say. She turned to try and hoist Sul into the saddle...and found herself face to face with Sir Corellan. She had almost forgotten he was there- he hadn't panicked with the dragon or the horses, hadn’t made a sound when the bog monster attacked. But there he was, silently helping her lift the Captain and depositing him gently on Eregost's back before swinging into his own saddle. He briefly clasped her hand before riding away and Ceyrabeth knew with certainty that she would see Sir Corellan again.

  But for now..."Let's take you home," She told the unconscious man draped in front of her. And with a loud "Hyah!", they were speeding off toward camp, Atiya and Narl-Shu following closely behind on their own mounts.

  .::.

  When they returned, Atiya lifted the unconscious captain from the saddle as if he weighed no more than a child and carried him back into his tent. Ceyrabeth moved to follow, “No,” Atiya said tonelessly, “I will tend to him.”

  Ceyrabeth opened her mouth to object, “Oh, because you did such a bang-up job last...!”

  The rest was lost as Atiya dropped the flap to the tent cutting the elven woman off.

  The Mithrac woman lowered Sul onto his cot, his glass eyes wide and unseeing as she removed something from her belt and placed it beneath his nose. The effect was immediate: he lurched straight up in his cot coughing. Atiya placed one massive hand on his back to steady him.

  “Report,” Sul croaked.

  “All transpired as you commanded,” She reported, “Neither myself nor Narl-Shu interfered when your life was imperiled. Ceyrabeth took it upon herself to rescue you, then accosted us both. She has a very...colorful…vocabulary.” She shrugged.

  Sul nodded as Atiya handed him his onyx pipe, “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  “Who is Violette?”

  Sul remained still for a long time. Then, “Where did you hear that name?”

  “You were delirious. The creature’s venom had taken hold of you,” she gestured to the claw wound on his side, “Is she important?”

  “She is neither your concern nor your business,” Sul’s tone possessed the finality of the grave as he lit his pipe. “Are we clear?”

  Atiya shrugged fractionally, “It would appear that Ceyrabeth passed your test.”

  Sul nodded and ran a hand through his graying hair, “The first of many.”

  Atiya tipped her massive head, “To what end?”

  Sul’s smile would have made the Mithrac shiver if she were capable of processing emotion, “Why the only end that matters,” He blew out a plume of smoke, “Victory: utter, complete and total.”

  That afternoon, dressed and with his wounds bandaged, Sul was pouring over a map when a knock sounded outside the tent, “Captain,” Pellinore’s voice called out, “There’s a-“

  The tent flap was swept aside and a tall woman garbed in leather armor pushed her way past the elf

  “-woman here to see you.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant, she is expected. That will be all.”

  Pellinore took his leave as the woman pulled back her hood revealing fine boned aristocratic features, piercing sea blue eyes that sought out Sul’s with a curious expression.

  Her hand snapped out and a metal object flashed from her hand. Just as quickly, Sul plucked the object in mid-air, “Judging from the heft of this coin,” Sul commented as he danced a gold coin across his knuckles, “I gather that your mission to Daymore Merenia has been profitable?”

  The young woman laughed, “Entirely!” Shaking her head, she pointed, “Answer me this: how does a man with no eyes snatch coins out of mid-air?”

  “Practice.”

  She smirked, “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never told me what happened to your eyes.”

  “I misplaced them,” Sul replied as he palmed the coin vanishing it from sight and focusing his attention upon her, “Lily.”

  “In the flesh.”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  The woman laughed at the slight censure in Sul’s voice, “Captain, you don’t send me anywhere where I’ll get back in a halfway decent amount of time. Sometimes I think you want to get rid of me for good.” She sat in the nearest chair and slung her long leg over the arm of the chair with a weary sigh.

  “Perish the thought.” Sul replied without a trace of sarcasm. “Atiya, please bring our guest something to drink,” The Mithrac woman bowed once and headed out. Atiya quickly returned with a single goblet of mead, placed it before the woman and departing without a word.

  “I have to ask,” Lily began, “How does the ‘heft’ of the coin tell you where I was?”

  Sul shrugged, “It’s simple. The southern territories are more profitable and therefore have more gold on hand that can be melted down for their
currencies, resulting in heavier coins. Coins from Central Daymore, in turn, where gold is sparse tend to be lighter. Even more so where silver is more plentiful and only a token amount of gold is used in the minting of coins.”

  “We have very different definitions of ‘simple,” She replied in a wry tone.

  “The last time I heard,” Sul commented softly, “You were fending off Sir Leif and six of his bannermen in the western lands of Daymore near Danoth Ishor.”

  “Ugh! Don’t remind me.” Lily covered her eyes with her hand before her brain caught up with her. “Wait! You were there?”

  “Peloquin was.”

  “Well, lovely. Thanks for all the help.” Lily drawled.

  “You required a lesson in remembering to explore all avenues of attack.”

  “How the in name of the Void was I supposed to know that Leif contracted the Howlers ahead of me?”

  “Anyone hoping to conduct business on the Danoth Ishor road should be well appraised as to what the banditry are doing. The Corsairs were taken by fever last winter. That left the White Howlers as the only brigands still operating in the area,” He shrugged fractionally, “It was a simple enough deduction.”

  Lily sipped her mead in sheepish silence. “Yeah, we’ve discussed this; it’s simple for you…”

  “And it should be simple for you too,” Sul countered gently, “You’re intelligent and well-trained and I expect a great deal more from you.”

  “Yes sir,” Lily sat straighter at his mingled criticism and praise. “Well, at any rate, he didn’t get the goods. Lady Minaeve sends her regards, by the way.” Lily handed Sul an envelope of gossamer thin paper covered in pale forget-me-nots like echoes of the real blossoms. Sul skimmed his hand across it, frowned ever so slightly, and did it again more slowly.

  “What?”

  “Lady Minaeve is sly and resourceful, but if she attracts the wrong kind of attention—“

  “Like Sir Leif,” Lily interjected.

  “Like Sir Leif,” Sul admitted, “She could place herself in imminent peril.”

  “Want me to keep an eye out? I don’t think you have any to spare,” Lily grinned.

  “No, I have agents in Daymore Kharas, Daymore Merenia and all points in between. I should be able to keep Minaeve out of harm’s way and arrange a suitable decoy should those efforts fail.”

  “What’s your interest in her anyways?”

  Sul shrugged fractionally, “She’s clever and moral. That’s enough to garner my interest, especially when it occurs within the ranks of the Daymorian nobility.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Lily rolled her luminous eyes, “I’ve always wanted to ask you something.”

  “Then ask.”

  “Lady Minaeve, myself, Atiya, Reiko, Ravenna: it seems you constantly surround yourself with women,” She grinned, “Is it an ego thing?”

  “You can do better than that,” Sul favored her with an indulgent expression, “Who make the most useful allies?”

  “The overlooked. The ignored,” she answered without hesitation. She had been trained well after all, “Because if your opponent doesn’t know who your allies are then they can’t plan for them.”

  “And therefore?”

  Lily stopped for a moment and laughed, “And no one in Daymore is more overlooked than a woman unless a good knob waxing is involved,” She shook her head, “You do realize that this wouldn’t work in a less obviously sexist environment?”

  “Find me a kingdom where filled with men confident enough to treat their women as equals and I will consider revising it.”

  “Point taken,” Lily rolled her eyes and shook her head again, “So hopefully I’m not playing bodyguard to Minaeve.”

  “You are not.”

  “Great! So does that mean I actually get to stick around?” She asked looking excited.

  “I’m afraid not.” Sul stood and walked across the dimly lit tent with a confidence that belied his blindness, “When I last traveled in Sahath, an acquaintance of mine informed me that there’d been an arrangement made between elements of the rakshasa here in Daymore and the Senate.”

  “What’s some sand cat doing here?” Lily asked, stifling a sigh. She knew Sul would get around to telling her about her next mission when he was good and ready and not a second before.

  “Negotiating an arrangement with the Senate under the table to broaden the slave trade. Instead of buying them through the regulated channels, they’ve begun resorting to mass kidnappings.”

  She spewed a mouthful of mead out of her mouth, coughing and choking, “They…what?!”

  “There’s a Rakshasa with a pet slaver who has cut a deal with a bloc within the senate. “

  “How do you know these things?” She asked, aghast.

  “I intercepted one of his agents and persuaded him to divulge the information.”

  Lily shook his head to clear it of visions involving Sul’s methods of ‘persuasion’.

  “Calm yourself,” Sul reassured Lily, “There was no need to resort to coercion. Once I supplied him with enough funds to facilitate his departure from the country, he spoke freely.”

  “Speaking of funds...”

  Sul tossed a small pouch to the woman who caught it in her free hand, “Three-hundred gold coins. Find the slaver; an elf named Yvora and her Rakshasa master.”

  “Where do I start looking? The capital?”

  “No, information like this would be disastrous for Praetor Quintus and his allies in the senate if it fell into the wrong hands. Quintus masterminded the bloc and if he’s threatened then they all are.”

  “I’d say it already has fallen into the wrong hands,” She gestured at the eyeless man with his wine goblet, “How did that scheming little rodent get appointed a magistrate in the senate?”

  “He and Yavic ibn Geral were both contending for the position. The consuls appointed the more political of two evils.”

  Lily made a face, “Yavic? That madman? I’ll wager you a ton of platinum against a bent copper piece that Yavic was offered as a candidate only to make Quintus more palatable to the masses.”

  “You would win that bet,” Sul said dryly. “I can’t afford to confront Quintus and his supporters openly. My resources are plentiful and growing, but not enough to challenge the full might of the senate and the Hierophant of the Imperium church together.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Quintus and his fellow conspirators in the senate will need to establish the logistics of funneling slaves from Daymore back to Sahath. It’ll require trial and error. So, they’ll take people no one will miss at first until they’ve established a reliable conduit."

  “Meaning Cigany,” Lily mused. The halflings were common in Daymore but possessed no centralized leadership making them easy prey for slavers and criminals in the past.

  “If they can find them. Also, elves and dwarves as well as whatever impoverished or lower-class humans they can get away with. They’ll start with them and move on to more lucrative slaves once they have their route established.”

  “That means raiding the ghettos and ethnic communities.”

  Sul nodded thoughtfully, “There was recently an uprising in the Daymore Dolor ghetto.”

  Lily scoffed “Apparently the people living there didn’t appreciate being used as sport for the bored offspring of the nobility.”

  “Apparently so,” Sul conceded, “It wouldn’t surprise me if additional armed men are discreetly sent to ‘reestablish order and ensure public safety’.”

  “Slavers?”

  “Almost certainly,” Sul pursed his lips in thought and then beckoned, “Come,” He turned and briskly exited the tent, his stride confident despite his blindness.

  The blind leading the… Lily thought for a moment then shook her head as she followed the older man out.

  “Light,” Sul said softly as he entered the command tent. Instantly, two guards lit torches and placed them inside the sconces within the confines of the enormo
us tent. Sul paid them little heed as he strode to the massive oaken table

  Lily eyed the enormous fixture appraisingly, “Where’d you get this great thing?”

  “Tribute from the Rakshasa, specifically the Fi’jan brotherhood,” Sul murmured quietly as slowly ran his fingers over the contoured surface area of the map, frowning in concentration, “A token of their esteem.”

  “The assassins from the north?”

  “Assassins and antiquarians actually. They run the Scarlet Markets in the Ghenlands and along the coast as well as specializing in rare and exotic antiquities.”

  “And they sent you this…?” Those who operated within the Scarlet Markets, the invisible marker where everything from slaves to murder could be purchased, were notoriously stingy.

  “Likely to earn my favor.”

  “Did it work?”

  “For the moment,” Sul conceded, “Their agents found it in the ruin of an ancient dwarven fortress in the mountains west of here. “

  “How in the Void did they get a giant table down a mountain?”

  “By using a giant.”

  “What?”

  Sul waved her off and tapped a spot on the map, “Here. From Daymore Kharas along the Capital Road…,” He traced his finger along the road, “….to the Port of Evermere, newly acquired by Quintus.”

  “If a significant number of the other senators are in league with Quintus--.”

  “There are.”

  “—then this whole bit with slaves was a long time in the making. Clever.”

  “If you say so,” Sul replied, his brow furrowed in concentration, the expression looking bizarre with his glass eyes.

  “Where’s he going to send them?”

  Sul sighed and tapped a large kingdom in the far east. “Given that Nevaraak is built upon the bones of slaves that would be the obvious choices. However, you can’t sail to Nevaraak from Daymore with a hold full of slaves without half of them starving to death…” His words trailed off as his expression became troubled.