Born of the Phoenix

by Forrester, David Murray

  The blood splatter was hypnotic, Akella's mind began to wander as she stared down at the macabre scene. She absolutely abhorred these kind of men; the type that always preyed upon the weak. Merchants, farmers, peasants and women, always women were the victims of these cruel, chauvinistic, depraved men. Deep within herself, at the very essence of her core a fire of hatred burned fiercely. It was a hatred that consumed her with wrath whenever her eyes saw injustice.

  There was a commotion in the street as the amassed crowd began to part to allow a large group of men through. They were Scarlet blades; the Menark garrison had been emptied.

  The company was led by Captain Teane, 'the fortress'. His armour was colossal. Multiple layers of heavy forged iron with steel plating that had intricate designs engraved into the breastplate. The spaulders on his shoulders were fashioned to the likeness of a hideous deformed sea beast while his helmet was twisted and grotesque, the steel hung about his neck like the tentacles of an octopus. He stopped in front of Akella, a battalion of fierce warriors at his back.

  "Oh shit," cursed Patsy, "we should go help her!"

  "No," said Crystal with a gentle shake of the head. She grinned, "My sister's got this."

  Chapter 05

  Word travels fast in Menark, the size of the crowd had doubled. Adorned in grey armour the mercenaries stood before Akella like a great dike surrounded by the hapless faces of curious onlookers. She stabbed Sunderfall into the ground and pressed her back against the sword as if it were a leaning post and looked into the faces of her opponents. They could not hide their eagerness for battle, obviously they had been sitting idle for too long.

  "You know that silver tongued little shithead actually thought he was gona take my place as captain one day," the Fortress gloated over his death, he loathed the chief and often thought of killing the cunning opportunist himself, "looks like he’s gona do nothing but rot in the ground now.” he spat, "regardless of how much I hated the little bastard he was a blade, and ain't no one comes into my town and kills my men without answering to me.”

  "I heard that the Scarlet Blades were powerful warriors who hungered for battle yet so far all I’ve seen is a few petty horse thieves and slavers, you don’t exactly live up to your reputation.”

  "You're an impudent little wench aren't you," he walked towards her, hand resting on the hilt of his devastating claymore which he had used to sever the heads from over a hundred men.

  "That’s a really impressive suit of armour," she said, casually leaning against her blade, "you wana know what it tells me about you?"

  The compliment made him grin. The colossal armour was practically impenetrable; Teane knew that his armour struck fear in the hearts of his enemies."That to be able to wear armour this massive I'm the strongest man you've ever met!"

  Akella scoffed. "What an ego! But no, nothing like that," and with words that sounded like the voice of god announcing dogmatic truth said, "you're a coward."

  A hush fell over the crowd as they eagerly awaited the Fortress's response. If there was one truth that could be said; the woman had guts.

  The fortress shrugged off her insult with a smirk. She was nothing to him but a stupid woman with an oversized blade. Hundreds of men had threatened him, making bold claims that they would crush his skull and besmirch his corpse; he had slain them all. This woman was nothing more than another notch in his belt, the light armour she wore left so much of her skin exposed his claymore would have no difficulty tearing her apart; she was a fool to insult him.

  “You might be the first and last person to ever call me a coward,” he drew the claymore from its sheath; the keen blade glistened in the sunlight. “I wear this armour because I am the only man strong enough too, no other man can bear the weight of such iron and steel!”

  “Strength might be enough to defeat normal men, but against me your strength means nothing.”

  “Strength is everything.”

  “Is it?” Akella left Sunderfall impaled in the ground and began circling the captain, “I believe you wear that armour because you have no skill with your blade, you know you’re going to be struck because of it so you drown yourself in iron to compensate for the fact that you have no confidence in your swordsmanship.”

  “Don’t make me laugh,” he growled, “You see this blade, this is Cleaverend. I’ve killed over a hundred men with this sword yet you stand there and tell me I have no skill, pathetic! You would wish true though, deep in your heart, because you know you cannot defeat me so you tell yourself these lies to give yourself hope of victory, but for you, there is only death!” It was time to unleash his true strength upon this woman; it was going to be an easy victory.

  Not only were all his subordinates behind him there was also a massive crowd in the street. The fortress wanted to take this opportunity to display his true strength. To fortify his position as captain and remind everyone why he was a man to be feared and respected. He was going to cut this foolish wench down with one almighty strike; to cleave her body in twain and shower the road with the blood of victory. He rushed Akella, blade held high to deliver a blow that would shake the very foundations of the world.

  There was skill in his movements, his footfalls and the way he wielded his mighty claymore. Akella could tell he was a man well versed in combat, strongly believing he knew many underhanded and ruthless tactics. However, his movements were only fundamentals, nothing she hadn't seen a thousand times before. A brute of great strength with a heavy blade and aggressive style, he was an open book for her to read.

  With perfect timing Akella evaded his strike and introduced her fist to his grotesque helm sending him crashing to the ground. It was a humiliating exchange; no one in the crowd dared react save in silent glances. They were in awe that Akella had not only knocked the fearsome captain down but had done so by striking his helm with a bare fist.

  Growling in fury the fortress arose lunging at her with intense savagery. Not only did Akella evade his strike for a second time but once again she struck him sending his hulking mass reeling to the ground.

  “I told you your strength was nothing to me, and it looks like I was right in saying you have no skill with your blade.”

  The insult fuelled the rage already burning inside him from having his pride bruised; twice he had been knocked down by a woman. The wench was right, his strength meant nothing; not while her speed gave her the ability to evade all his strikes. He would have to take her speed from her, put her into a position where there was nowhere she could run from Cleaverend’s deadly edge, and he knew exactly how to do that.

  “Blades attack!”

  Once the order was given the mercenaries were fast to react and surged forward in a well organised battle formation. Akella retrieved Sunderfall and rested the giant blade upon her shoulder as the warriors surrounded her.

  “She’s surrounded, we have to go help her!” Patsy couldn’t stand idle any longer. Not only did she want to aid Akella but she hungered for vengeance; she could feel the blood drying upon her neck.

  Crystal rested her hand on Patsy’s shoulder. “It might seem like she’s in a bit of a jam to you but trust me, this is nothing to Akella, just relax and enjoy the show.” As their eyes met Patsy was humbled by Crystal’s fortitude, she held such confidence in Akella despite the fact that she was surrounded by so many enemies. Her belief in Akella’s ability was enough to settle Patsy; she stood watching the battle with tense anticipation.

  Spear blades and swords were thrust at Akella from all angles as the mercenaries began their ruthless attack. She evaded and parried each weapon as they came at her. Despite their best efforts the mercenaries were unable to break her defence. The sky seemed to darken for a moment; Akella raised Sunderfall just in time to catch Cleaverend as it came crashing down with incredible power.

  Completely surrounded and constantly under attack from all angles Akella was pushed hard to keep herself from being slashed or impaled. The fortress stayed on the edge of the fray stepping in and out b
etween his warriors and striking at Akella with his massive blade when he saw her to be at her most vulnerable. It was a solid tactic yet each time he believed he was bringing down a killing blow of devastating power Sunderfall was there to block it; the female warrior not even budging under the awesome might of his attacks.

  “How… how can she be so strong?” Again and again he smote her with the massive claymore and still the black greatsword was there mocking him, denying the kill he hungered so desperately for.

  For the entire duration of the battle Akella had been on the defensive. The Scarlet blades lived up to their reputation. Their attacks were accurate, fierce and powerful. She was thankful; for the barrage of attacks served as an excellent training exercise. It had been long since last she was pushed so hard and by so many opponents. Sapphiron had not as yet offered a single opponent worthy of pushing her to her limits, this fight at least helped to shake off some of the cob webs.

  Conjuring immeasurable spirit energy into her fist Akella struck the ground with incredible force releasing a shockwave that knocked all the warriors around her to the ground. A cloud of dust erupted from the explosion shrouding the area in a dirty haze. The mercenaries shielded their faces from it; unable to see they gripped tightly onto the hilt of their weapons waiting for the dust to clear. The cloud of dust fazed Akella not; it was time for Sunderfall to sing.

  Through the haze she moved with frightening speed bring death to each warrior she came upon. They could hear the screams of their comrades as Sunderfall brought ruin to their flesh and fear took them as they could not see their attacker until it was too late; appearing through the haze like a thief to steal their lives.

  When the dust settled only one man remained; Captain Teane. With his entire battalion laying despoiled and bleeding around him he glared at Akella from within his helm with bitter hatred.

  “Now do you understand why your strength means nothing?”

  “I already told you, strength is everything.” Teane’s fighting spirit had not been broken. So Akella had slaughtered his men; it meant nothing to him. She had managed to evade and block all his attacks; that also meant nothing. His strength was absolute, it always brought him victory and now he believed he had Akella exactly where he wanted her. “You are strong, I’ll give you that, but I think you’ve just reached your limit.”

  “My limit,” it amused Akella to hear the Captain speak in such a way.

  “Your greatsword is larger than my claymore which means that it is also heavier, and you’ve been swinging that sword for a long time now. I bet you barely have the strength left to raise it.” He raced forwards. It was finally time to end this wench, there was no way she could block his ultimate attack. Teane had been practising it for years, concentrating the entirety of his strength into one all mighty blow that had the power to cleave a thirty foot tree in twain.

  Roaring in triumph as he summoned the totality of his ancestral strength he bore down upon Akella with his ultimate attack. As the claymore came surging towards Akella she did not move nor did she raise Sunderfall in defence. She stood stoically, calmly observing the Fortress’s attack with her keen purple eyes. He had been right; she no longer possessed the strength to raise the colossal greatsword. It was glorious! The victory was his; or so he thought.

  Shards of Cleaverend showered the ground as the claymore shattered. Sunderfall utterly destroyed the blade. To the shock and horror of Teane he coughed up blood as he beheld Akella’s greatsword wedged in his body. The colossal greatsword had torn through the armour he believed to be impenetrable and had opened a gaping rent from his shoulder to his waist. Blood gushed from the devastating wound; his ruined armour the only thing preventing his body from splitting apart. He felt no pain. Existence to him became estranged as though his body had died but his spirit was still trapped within it.

  “You relied too wholly on your strength and never truly evolved as a warrior. Strength is but one facet we must master on the journey to obtaining true power.”

  Sunderfall was withdrawn. The crowd gasped as Teane’s body crashed to the ground in a macabre scene of blood drenched horror. The sky was above him and beyond that the Bascilla heavens awaited.

  Strength… my strength has failed me.

  Chapter 06

  The street was littered with corpses. No sooner had Akella withdrawn from the carnage that a tide of opportunistic scavengers crawled from the woodwork to pilfer the fallen mercenaries bickering with each other as they stripped the bodies of weapons and armour.

  From within the crowd hearsay and rumours began spreading like wildfire. What they had just witnessed defied logic. A lone woman defeating an entire garrison of Scarlet Blades; it was inconceivable. In the simple minds of the peasants there was only one truth that could explain what they had just beheld; Akella was a witch. The black haired witch they named her, a sadistic servant of Manishka who not only slaughtered the men but also stole their souls to appease her dark master. The more the peasants gossiped the wilder the stories became; the truth a diluted fragment hidden amongst the fallacious stories.

  There were many unanswered questions brewing in the minds of both Ravage and Patsy. The image of Akella’s hand glowing with what appeared to be magical energy before striking the ground and unleashing a terrifyingly powerful attack; that evidence alone signified to them that she was most likely a mage. Ravage’s curiosity in the matter was not satisfied with that answer alone. Mage’s knew magic, they studied for years learning to manipulate and conjure the mysterious art. They were not warriors; not to the degree that Akella was. A deep rumbling erupted from Ravage’s stomach and Crystal turned to her with a thoughtful smile. “Someone’s hungry.”

  It had been several days since Ravage had enjoyed a decent meal; the hunger for meat and beer was yearning within. “Starving actually.”

  “Let’s find a decent tavern, I could do with a good feed myself.”

  With a purse over flowing with coins Crystal treated her friends to a lavish feast that came with an ever flowing river of alcohol. Beer, spiced rum, whiskey, exotic liqueurs; the girls drank their fill talking and laughing as the hours passed by. As Patsy downed her seventh pint of beer a flight of ravens could be seen in the window behind her, they flew in all directions quickly disappearing into the gathering clouds of an oncoming rain storm. The dominoes were beginning to fall.

  Despite the cruel and lawless nature of Menark there was still luxury to be found for those who possessed the wealth to afford it. Countless rare and exotic tastes could be indulged if one knew which avenues to explore. Gold is a rare commodity that opens the doors to many secret desires.

  Crystal paid for a decadent room in a sandstone palace on the edge of town. The room was richly decorated with an open blazing hearth in its centre. The girls sat on elegant cushions drinking long into the night with the conversation flowing from battle to philosophy.

  Patsy and Melody had become fast friends and were beyond drunk. They were the first to retire, climbing into their soft beds to sleep peacefully in a drunken haze. When the witching hour came around thunder boomed and lightening cracked as a mighty storm unleashed a torrent of rain. Akella produced cigars from a leather pouch, Crystal and Ravage joined her on the balcony to smoke.

  The balcony was overgrown with luscious climbing Jasmine vines. The scent of its flowers sweet, coupled with the freshness of the rain and the aroma of the cigars it created a very tranquil environment. The girls sat in quiet, each left to their own drunken thoughts as they listened to the rain and watched the lightening illuminate the town in brilliant flashes of light.

  The Lightening danced elegantly along Sunderfall's blade. Ravage was in awe of the weapons magnificence. She wondered what material it was forged from for it to so easily shatter the claymore and tear through the Fortress’s colossal armour and remain without flaw or scratch. Akella noticed Ravage admiring the greatsword, their eyes met and she smiled. Akella lifted the blade and handed it her. No sooner had Ravage taken hold of
Sunderfall that she immediately struggled with the greatsword’s weight and could not wield it.

  "My father had me forging swords before I had reached my tenth birthday," she rested the sword in her lap, "I have seen hundreds of swords if not thousands, but none like this." Ravage ran her fingers across the runes, her fingers exploring the engravings. "Is this an enchanted blade? Is that what makes it too heavy for others to wield?"

  "Its name is Sunderfall and its not enchanted as much as it is cursed," said Akella puffing on her cigar, wisps of smoke escaping her full lips, "there's no enchantment on its weight, its weight is purely so it can achieve its purpose, which is to destroy."

  Ravage nodded, she didn't doubt for a second the destructive ability of the weapon. It was intimidating to think how truly strong Akella was to be able to wield such a heavy greatsword. Ravage had always thought of herself as a skilled and powerful warrior, it was humbling to be in the presence of someone so mighty."How did you come across it?"

  "Now that is a long story," she turned her face towards the storm as long forgotten memories began to surface, "and perhaps too long a story for tonight," Akella could see the disappointment on Ravage’s face. She was a curious one and obviously intrigued about the sword.

  "I will tell you this though," she began and Ravage looked up, eager for the story. "It was not forged to be held by man, it was once the weapon of a very ancient and powerful reaver who ruled as a god like figure over the savage tribes in southern Ruscarne."

  At the mention of Ruscarne Ravage's eyes lit up with a thousand questions. She had always dreamed of travelling there. Ruscarne was the oldest known island continent in the world, an ancient place of mystery and legend. Throughout the ages many stories had been past down about the countless ruins with priceless treasures hidden within, stalked and guarded by powerful monsters ancient as the world itself. Ruscarne is covered in treacherous snow capped mountain ranges, haunted forests and spectacular landscapes, a beautiful yet perilous island.