Reign of Phyre

by Nicholas Cooper

  She woke from Seline’s firm shaking. “Levi, we should keep moving. I don’t…I don’t want to leave him here. I don’t want him to remain alone where his killers lie.”

  “Is it not your tradition to burn the body? He won’t remain here if we build a pyre,” she asked.

  “Look around,” Seline said pointing in all directions, “There is not enough wood, and Yukonians do not burn their lost ones. We bury them. If he is to remain so far from home, then let it be somewhere more deserving.”

  Levi had never given a thought about where or how she would like to end up after she died. It never mattered. As a Black Wolf she would certainly not die of old age, instead dying at the hands of her enemies in their lands. She never entertained the idea of choosing a resting place. Still, she had felt the loss of Black Wyke, and agreed that here was not the best place to leave him despite her cold logic tugging at her to just leave him and move forwards with her mission.

  “Where would be… deserving? I’ve never been to your homeland, but I imagine it is far from this rocky plain. We can’t go back, only forward.”

  “Then, Tolvik will be worthy. Whoever they are, they will be worthy to receive his spirit as their protector. But…”

  “I will carry him,” she said, cursing their attackers at the late realisation it wasn’t one of their horses had fled during the attack, but all of them.

  She carried him for twenty minutes before his weight got the better of her. She counted herself fortunate, then, that they came across several trees that had grown next to a small lake. She took the opportunity to clean the wound in her leg as best as she could. It would hurt for weeks even if she just rested, but she just needed to keep it from getting infected. After hydrating themselves, Levi got to work on the trees, using their branches to make a makeshift sled, and covered his body with her furs. Both Levi and Seline were able to drag the sled behind them which, thanks to the flatness of the plain.

  Seline said nothing the entire day, instead just looked forward towards the mountain with three peaks, which was where they were heading.

  As the sun began to set Levi began looking for a place to make a fire with after collecting enough wood along the way. Suddenly, she heard a shout and saw a young man had spotted them in the distance and began to wave his arms frantically at them. He ran towards them initially, before retiring to a brisk walk as he ran out of breath. He was exhausted and unarmed, so Levi did not bother reaching for a weapon. He looked as though he had seen death, and then Levi knew.

  “You are from Tolvik?” If the man was surprised at her assumption, his already pale, ghostly face hid it well. He simply nodded. “And you are Tyrellian?”

  She cautioned herself for a moment, wondering how it was he knew that, but decided she would think about it later. “I am.”

  “Then follow me.”

  It was well beyond dark by the time they reached Tolvik. It was a small village of about fifteen houses. That they were made entirely of stone did not surprise Levi at all.

  The young man, Brenan, had been instructed to find them by a man named Rylic. He had been wounded and some of the villagers had found him. The villagers had no idea where he came from, Brenan said. Levi had a strong inkling that Rylic was Reilek, or rather, was entirely sure of it.

  He led them to one of the small houses and said, “He is in here, he’s being cared for by-” As he opened the door he immediately vomited. Levi knew what was inside before the smell hit.

  “He knew I would come here. I saw this room. He made sure no one would talk.”

  Brenan propped himself up against the wall and cried into his arms. Seline sat beside him. She did not hug him, she did not touch him. She did not cry, but she sat with him in silence. She was not given a chance to mourn properly, but together, well, it must have meant something to her.

  Levi searched the room, looking for something of value. There was some rope on the floor, lying in the pool of blood that came from the woman’s stomach. The man she had seen in her vision was also here, with lacerations around his neck.

  There were ashes in the fireplace. A tiny piece of parchment remained unburnt, but there was nothing on it. There was a letter for me, she thought. But Reilek destroyed it before she arrived. After finding nothing else in the room, she brought her attention back to the couple. She had failed to notice the first time, but the woman had died with her fist clenched. She peeled her hand open and found a note scribbled down. She did not know under what circumstances a hidden note was necessary if there was an actual letter made, but she wasn’t going to find the answer here. She opened the note and found writing on it.

  “Seline,” she asked as she walked over, “what does this say?” Seline looked up at Levi with bewilderment. “It was never necessary for me.”

  “It says…”

  A screaming white pain entered her mind. It numbed all her senses. Meet me at the Vieran Pass, Tyrellian. I have waited long enough.

  “-enough,” Seline finished, passing the note back.

  “Then, we have no time to lose. We need to leave tonight,” she said, her head spinning.

  Seline turned her head towards the sled. “After, of course, we say goodbye to Wyke. He can wait a little more.”

  -------------------------------------

  Mhiro

  Dear Lydia, Rieda and Vaela,

  I write this letter on the eve of what will either be known as the Battle of Rulven, or of a forgotten failed rebellion. I do not know what fate has in store for me but know that I will be thinking of you.

  The night I said goodbye to you, I was promised by the Sons of the Phoenix that they would provide for any family who lost a loved one in the upcoming battle. Know that I do not seek death, and I would pay any price to see you once more.

  But it seems that it is my fate to rise so that you may not. If you are reading this letter, then I fear that I will be waiting for you in the afterlife. I hope, though it will pain me, that I shall not see you and our dear girls for many, many years to come. Raise them well, Lydia, and tell them their father will always be proud of them no matter what. You gave me happiness and you gave me joy, and I will always be thankful that I could call you mine.

  Lydia, once the battle is over and the dust has settled, present this letter as proof of my service. That my family is entitled to the care and hospitality offered by the Sons of the Phoenix, of whom I died in the service of. Honour the promise that was made and make sure my family never goes hungry or cold.

  Farewell, you will always be in my heart.

  Mhiro Azan

  The Sons of Rulven visited him in the night. He was given a short sword and a small, battered shield. He had remained inside all day holding the sword; a weapon he had never held before, nor anticipated on using. We are a product of the times, he thought. Time dictates the man we must become. Were he born another time, perhaps...well, he lived here and now, and time demanded his sacrifice.

  He made himself a simple dinner. It was more than normal, but the thought of it perhaps being his last meal had made him hungrier. Shortly after he finished, he heard the knock on the door. His heart nearly escaped through his mouth. His hands shaking, he picked up his sword and shield he had been given and covered them with his coat.

  He opened the door and was greeted unexpectedly by two Khasari. “Can I help you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

  “Your door is painted blue. Governor Narazan has decreed that as of tonight, suspected individuals of having a connection to the Sons are to report to the barracks for questions and temporary detainment.”

  “Uh…,” he tried to formulate a response, “I had no idea my door was painted. Someone must have painted it during the night. I haven’t left my house all day. My wife has been sick so…”

  The larger of the two Khasari went to grab him. He went to resist, trying to dislodge the grip one had on his tunic. Suddenly, they both heard a scream come from behind. The Khasari that grabbed him turned around to se
e his partner in a headlock with a dagger being plunged into his heart. He let go of Mhiro to fight the Son who was plunging his dagger again and again into the struggling Khasari. Mhiro’s instincts kicked in and he didn’t waste a second to reach under his coat and grab the cold sword. He had never thought about where you are supposed to stab someone before, but he figured anywhere was a good start. He plunged his sword into the Khasari’s lower back, to which the Khasari roared in pain and twisted to the side. He grabbed Mhiro and tackled him to the floor. Mhiro dropped his sword. The Khasari raised his fist and though Mhiro tried to block, the trained soldier was too big and powerful to stop. He was punched right in the face and lost his balance, his world started to go black.

  A second punch never came, though. The Son who had killed the other Khasari wasted no time in killing the other. When Mhiro opened his eyes, the Khasari was still on top of him, but instead of his fist, it was blood splatter that hit him in the face. His throat was opened by the short Son who promptly pushed the man to the side.

  “Are you okay, brother?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then help me bring the other one inside. They will need to rest here a while.”

  His home had become a murder site. Yelia would be displeased with him, he was certain. Such is fate. Fate is bigger, more powerful, and non-yielding. Yelia would have to understand.

  “Come, our band is waiting. We have our orders.”

  Mhiro felt a warm trickle down his leg, but he forced himself forwards. Outside, one street east of his house waited three others dressed as common as a street vendor.

  “Yun, Pyt, Stone, and I am Ghen.”

  “Mhiro.” He was certain that he had seen these faces before. Stone was one of the local smiths.

  “Well met. Now, our orders are to eliminate the guards at the eastern gate. There is a brazier that will be lit atop one of the buildings in the market. Once it is lit, we shall move. Other bands are to protect our rear. Farrel has set up some first aid stations in the main trading station. If you are injured or find someone injured, get them there; his guards will escort you in. Now, follow me inside and we will wait.”

  Mhiro followed them into what was at one point someone’s house, much like his own. However, unlike his own, it had been used as some sort of meeting point for a while. There were maps of the city, several scrolls, swords and spears and a number of arrows.

  “Who gave you the shield, Mhiro? If you ever find yourself in combat, you’ve already lost. It’s a dead weight. We gotta be quick and strike from the shadows. If they are alerted, reinforcements will come and we will fail to open the gate, so keep your hand free. It’s easier to muzzle their cries that way.”

  He put the shield down on the table. Fate, it seemed, was asking much of him. He thought of his wife and children waiting for him in Ulane. He felt his inside pocket. Good, still there.

  Yun, who had been looking out the window, broke the news. “It’s lit.”

  “Then our time has come. Come on lads, it’s time to do Euphyria proud. Let us not bring shame upon our loved ones.”

  They left the house and walked down the street in two groups. The weather was freezing, and their coats gave off no suspicion. Yun and Stone headed north and Ghen, Pyt and Mhiro headed to the south.

  The gate itself was manned by eight Khasari, not including the two Khasari in each of the two towers that flanked the gate on both sides. They would first need to take care of the eight at the base before taking the towers to open the gate undetected. Ghen signalled the others to the north with a series of gestures that Mhiro had no idea what they meant. He indeed wondered why he was part of this group who seemingly had a more important role to play when there were obviously more experienced Sons in the Citadel. It was too late now to ask questions, however.

  “We need to attack in unison with Yun and Stone, else the Khasari will be alerted. Now, Pyt knows how to use a bow, so he will stay here and take out the two on the platform. You and me, Mhiro, we need to take the bottom two undetected.”

  “How do we do that? There’s no place to sneak up on them.”

  “You’re right. Only our intentions need to remain undetected. If we provide a distraction that draws all their attention towards us, Yun and Stone can make quick work of the four on the north side of the gate.”

  “What distraction? Won’t we alert them if we act suspicious?” His heart was racing, for he knew whatever the distraction would be would include a high amount of risk.

  “Have you ever been wounded in combat before?”

  “No, I haven’t”.

  “You’ve never been cut or sliced, you don’t know this pain?”

  Mhiro really did not like where this was going. “No...why?”

  It happened in an instant. Ghen stabbed him in the leg. He knew this, for the pain registered in his mind long before he looked down to confirm. A scream from the bottom of his stomach erupted from his mouth, no doubt alerting the guards.

  “There needs to be blood. Nothing too deep, don’t worry. But your screaming is genuine, so you won’t need to act. The guards will be coming this way, so I will carry you over there and signal for them. Then we strike. It needs to be a quick, clean thrust. The two others will see this, but Pyt will hit them before they can signal reinforcements.”

  “If I must, then so be it,” he said, his voice trembling, the pain testing his concentration, “where should I strike?”

  “You will collapse in front of them, and when one tends to you, thrust your sword at the base of his neck. I will take care of the other one.” Ghen sounded like a real soldier, and perhaps he was. Mhiro took comfort that he was on Ghen’s side, and not his enemy.

  “Come, let’s get you help…help! Soldiers, help! This man has been attacked!” Ghen shouted at the Khasari as he helped Mhiro to limp onwards.

  The Khasari, wary of leaving their posts and being a trap cautiously walked towards them. They had been on high alert lately and they would be until the threat of attack disappeared. When they were close, Ghen firmly pushed Mhiro’s back to let him know to collapse onto the ground. He rolled on his back, making sure his sword was covered by his coat.

  “Sons”, he stressed, “I found their hideout. But they found me, too.”

  Keeping with the genuine wound, he found it was easier if he also spoke the truth. No doubt this sparked the Khasari’s interest, for indeed one of them leaned over and extended a hand.

  “Tell us, friend.”

  He took the Khasari’s hand to stand back up and did exactly as Ghen instructed. His blade pierced the Khasari’s neck, not as deep as he expected, but enough. The Khasari fell forward, choking, clutching. He collapsed onto Mhiro who was now covered in his blood. He rolled him off and saw Ghen finish off the other guard.

  He knew Pyt was next and looked towards the remaining two guards on the south side of the gate. An arrow abruptly found its mark in the chest of the first Khasari. This alerted the second, but not in time to avoid the second arrow.

  However, the arrow’s aim was slightly off, and hit him in the shoulder. The Khasari dropped to the floor, covering his side with his shield.

  “Ambush!” he shouted, alerting the guards in the towers.

  “Shit,” said Ghen, “Come, we have to open that gate now, with or without those towers.”

  A horn blared from the tower, signaling an attack. Well, my fate is now sealed, thought Mhiro. He began to hear fighting in the distance, as no doubt the garrison forces began to rally to the defence of the gate.

  “The Sons will buy us time. They will hold them as long as they can, but we need that gate opened or it will all be for nothing,” said Ghen.

  They ran up to the platform where Ghen made quick work of the injured Khasari. Pyt had run over too. “I will take care of the south tower,” he said, taking the shield off the dead Khasari, “Pyt, you help Mhiro with the gate. Hurry.” Ghen began to climb up the ladder, holding the shield over his head.

  “Come,” said Pyt,
“the bolt is heavy.” An arrow from above made those words Pyt’s last. The arrow struck him in the neck, and he fell with an unceremonious thud. Mhiro hobbled to the gate which was unprotected thanks to their trap and tried to lift the bolt. Stone had to abandon his job and come to his aid, lifting the bolt with Mhiro.

  Stone let out a scream as an arrow pierced his leg, this time coming from behind. The reinforcements were arriving. So too were the Sons. They poured out from buildings and alleys and threw themselves in front of the gate, creating a semi-circle around where Mhiro and Stone stood. Too soon, according to their plan. They heaved, trying to lift the gate. Several other Sons joined them, desperate to lift the bolt, though the arriving Khasari, with the greater discipline that professional training afforded, started to penetrate their ranks.

  -------------------------------------

  Arys

  The Battle of Rulven has long been thought to have been the turning point in the war. This position is held often by those who have studied war, yet to whom the field of economics remains a mystery. Though still open to scholarly debate, it is generally considered that the Battle of Rulven was not the turning point that prominent generals of that time claim, but simply a result of the economic ties and recovery that had been occurring in the far east. They are, simply put, wrong.

  Bahryn Heytr, The Dawn War

  With darkness masking their advance, the Sons, under the command of Arys Tullis, crept silently through the trees towards Rulven. He had sent a couple of riders ahead, just in case those inside the walls had begun early or necessity dictated an expediated execution of the plan. So far, there was no word. Good.

  The armoured knights from Lepcis rode alongside him, in front of the infantry. The horses were calm, despite the darkness. The riders knew them well, and they were able to keep them from whinnying or panicking.

  The march through the forest felt like it went on for hours. It allowed everyone ample time to consider all the outcomes, stress and worry that came with a soldiering life. He could hear the mutterings of the Sons behind his horse, some with bright optimism, some expressing their contempt for the invaders, others concerned with their numbers.