The Phoenix King: The Thunderheart Chronicles Book 2

by Alexander Brockman

  Aidan grimaced at the bald-faced lie. He had hardly done anything “single-handedly.” Aaliyah had saved his life on that island, and Bartemus had killed far more dragons than his apprentice. Aidan felt the scars on his chest, courtesy of the Black Thunder’s claws, tingle as he thought about that day.

  An elf, Stick, spoke for the first time. “Where would the boy search? We have already scoured all of Sortiledge and are sending ships south to the Miselohs Islands. I want a man powerful enough to own a phoenix egg on our side as much as anyone, but it has been seventeen years. We don’t know who he is or even if he still lives.”

  Bartemus hesitated for a moment. “We believe the boy’s father is north of the Nefarious Lands, in the country called Aranumis. It is the only place where phoenixes may still be alive.”

  Outrage broke out amongst the hall, at least in the dwarven and elven stands. Aidan felt very small amongst the screaming and banging. Even Gold yelling for silence could not bring the crowds under control.

  It was at that moment that Aaliyah sat down next to Aidan.

  “Miss anything fun?” She asked, breathing hard. Aidan realized she had probably run around the castle three or four times before coming inside. If there was anyone who hated these meetings more than him, it was her.

  “I don’t think they agree with our plan,” Aidan said, his spirits quickly falling. “Nightmares last night?”

  Aaliyah’s eyes turned steely. “None of your concern.”

  Aidan shrugged. He couldn’t help but feel like she was pushing him away, but he could hardly blame her. Last time he accidentally stumbled into her dream, she had been half naked about to jump in a lake. His face turned red as he remembered her dream-self slapping him so hard he actually woke up.

  “Order, order!” Gold yelled, and finally the crowd’s yells died down to hushed murmurs.

  “This request is unacceptable. No matter how powerful your apprentice is, he would have to travel through hundreds of miles of enemy territory to reach the end of the Nefarious Lands. Even if he were to make it, our knowledge of the entire area is built around rumors, and even under the best circumstances it’s far too dangerous to risk an expedition. If Aidan is truly meant to face Malcommer, as you so believe, then we will not send him on a suicide mission to satisfy an old man’s curiosity!”

  Gold stopped to regain her cool, but Aidan found he was losing his. This mission was his idea, not Bartemus’s. He felt Aaliyah slip her hand over his. Had she noticed his anger building? No matter how hard he tried, he would never understand this girl.

  “As for the egg, the dwarves remain divided. My counterpart wishes to hatch the egg immediately, while my people do not. As we are at an impasse, the dwarves have agreed to postpone the decision for three months.”

  The Gurvinite section again erupted in outrage.

  “Within three months, Malcommer will have already won.” Timothy said.

  Aidan couldn’t help it. Fire was starting to burn at the tips of his fingers, literally, as he thought of the thousands of people Malcommer would kill. Aaliyah gently took his wand away to attempt to slow the power building in him.

  The elves stood, and this time Leaf spoke. “We agree with the dwarves. Let us not make hasty choices. As an added precaution, we believe that it would be safer to keep the egg with our people, so that no rash decisions are made.”

  That did it. The phoenix egg was the only link Aidan had to his father, and the elves had no right to take it. His heart started speed in anger. Aaliyah grabbed Aidan by the arm, and along with Timothy and Eleanor, pulled him out to the courtyard before he could do any damage. It was a beautiful open space, At the base of a mountain. A few large boulders had at some point fallen onto the edge of the yard, though about half had been pulverized.

  Aaliyah slipped Aidan’s wand into his hand and all of his friends stood back.

  “Terrack!” he yelled, and slammed his fist into the nearest rock. A sound like the crack of a whip pierced the air, and the boulder split in half. Aidan hit the rock again and again, until it was little more than dust and spent anger.

  He fell to his knees, powerless. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really didn’t mean to lose control like that.”

  Aaliyah approached him first. “It’s okay, I know.”

  Aidan’s anger had become more and more difficult to control. Even things that used to slightly irritate him now had the potential to start a fire that could burn down an entire building. It didn’t help in the slightest that Bartemus and even Aaliyah had been teaching him to use that anger as a weapon. He was terrified that one day he would hurt someone he cared about if he didn’t learn to control himself.

  “Hey mate, we all have things to work through,” Timothy said, “And if it helps, I was ready to break something too.”

  Aidan sighed. All of their emotions were frayed. From the information Bartemus had gathered, Malcommer and his army could invade any day. Unfortunately, the warlock’s word was not enough to convince the council that the threat was real. Until recently, it had been assumed that Malcommer had been killed with his army at the end of the Great Wars, sixty some years ago. Now, not only did the council have to accept that Malcommer was alive, but also that he had built another army and was planning to invade Sortiledge.

  The doors to the hall burst open, and Bartemus stepped out. Aidan could tell that his master was almost as angry as he was.

  “Aidan. My chambers. Now.”

  ***

  Aidan followed after Bartemus as quickly as he could. For someone at least eighty years old, the warlock was quite quick. They entered the building where the Gurvinite representatives were staying and made their way to the end of the hall. Bartemus’s quarters were identical to Aidan’s, though the warlock had furnished his room with a table and two chairs. He also had an enchanted chest in the back corner, which was where he kept the phoenix egg.

  Aidan sat down and began to fidget with his ring as he waited for Bartemus to speak. The Phoenix Ring was made of dragon scales. On one side was a glass bubble that seemed to be unbreakable, a phoenix in all its flaming glory engraved on top. Inside the ring sat a tiny soulrock crystal, the conduit of a sorcerer’s power. Somewhere inside Aidan’s soulrock lived the soul of Marcus Thunderheart, the last owner of the ring and the hero who ended the Great Wars. Aidan had failed to establish contact with Marcus since the Battle of the Isle.

  “They already took the egg,” Bartemus said. “The dwarves agreed with the elves and there was little the king and I could do without starting a riot. The dwarves have also asked us to return to Gurvinite until the council reconvenes.”

  Bartemus put his face in his hands. “This makes things much more difficult. If that egg is not hatched within the month, Malcommer will have almost no resistance. Our forces consist of maybe two hundred half trained wizards, four dozen amoghs, five dozen elven archers, ninety rangers and a thousand dwarves that are more likely to kill each other than the enemy. Malcommer has at least seven thousand soldiers by the ranger’s latest estimates, and only half of those are regular men. At least a thousand goblins, a hundred trolls …” Bartemus trailed off, the ominous numbers needing no more detail. “If we can’t find a way to hatch this egg, we won’t last a week.”

  “What about the dragons?” Aidan asked.

  Bartemus shook his head. “They suffered great losses at the Battle of the Isle. They have sworn allegiance to Sortiledge, but, much like some members of the council, believe that Malcommer will spare them if they don’t get involved. Even if they agreed to fight for us, they would hardly be a match for the hundreds of wyverns at Malcommer’s disposal. No, without that egg all hope is lost.”

  “Isn’t there anything you can do?” Aidan asked. He remembered his mother, and the orphanage she ran. He could easily envision Malcommer’s forces marching into their sleepy town, raping and pillaging until nothing was left. Aidan had not contacted his mother since receiving the egg. If Malcommer found out that Rose had possessed a pho
enix egg for almost two decades she would likely be dead within a few days.

  “No. There isn’t. But there might be something you can do.”

  Aidan smiled. Finally, a task he could work at. He was sick of these political games that never resulted in anything but extensions and excuses.

  “Your father was the one who gave us this egg. We can only assume he was a phoenix breeder before the Great Wars. If you were to bring the egg to him, north of the Nefarious Lands, perhaps he will possess the means to hatch it.”

  Aidan was speechless. This was exactly what he had wanted, but up till now his master had not allowed him to break a single rule, even trivial ones like those that related to the wizard’s robes.

  “Are you suggesting I steal the egg?” Aidan asked.

  “Oh heavens no,” Bartemus said, smiling. “That would be treason. I’m suggesting that if you wanted to steal the egg, you would find supplies, Timothy, and Aaliyah waiting for you in your quarters. You would also find a communication crystal and some gifts from other friends. Of course, all that is pointless unless you were to know that the elves have a six-man griffin leaving tonight a half hour before sunset, east side of the courtyard, at which point I assure you everyone from Gurvinite will be fast asleep.”

  Aidan jumped to his feet grinning.

  “Wait,” Bartemus said. “Aidan, Lief and I have our hands tied. As far as the rest of Sortliledge knows, you and your friends will be acting independently. We cannot allow Sortiledge to become more disunited than it already is.”

  Aidan didn’t care. He would take any chance to find his father that he could take, no matter the risks.

  “I understand,” he said. “Thank you, Master. I won’t disappoint you!”

  He turned and ran out of the room, shutting the door far too hard.

  Bartemus smiled. “I know you won’t lad. I know.”

  2

  The plan to steal the egg was going well until Aidan was stabbed by the fifth elf.

  The three friends had met in Aidan’s quarters, where three bags full of food, clothing, and weapons for Aaliyah had been left. Due to hours of training, Timothy, Aidan, and Aaliyah had become adept at working as a team and solving problems using each other’s strengths. Being the fastest, Aaliyah would be the one to actually steal the egg. The elven shaman would instantly retaliate with magic. They didn’t possess the same type of power that Aidan and Timothy did, but instead manipulated arorr, life force itself, to heal or attack those around them. Timothy, who was by far the most skilled in magic, would deflect these attacks and turn them back on their weaver. Aidan, the most powerful, would be left with the last two guards. If anything went wrong, all three would be wearing hooded robes and could flee without revealing their identities.

  Unfortunately, the entire plan was based on the assumption that only four elves and their supplies would fit on the six man Griffin.

  The trio snuck up on the four elves and their anxious beast by use of a cloaking spell. Of course, the magic had no effect on Aaliyah, but she was stealthy enough on her own. As with the rest of the courtyard, the eastern side was littered in boulders that cast eerie shadows in the fading sunlight. It was sandwiched between the castle and a clump of trees. Timothy and Aidan approached from the courtyard, ducking behind boulders as they got close. Aaliyah had already split off from them to circle around to the trees.

  “We were right,” Timothy whispered, “I count four. The shaman, the Leaf guy, and two guards. They don’t have many supplies, but I guess elves don’t need much. They’ve already loaded about half of them. Now we just need Aaliyah to do her part.”

  They only had to wait for a few seconds before one of the elves let out a strangled yell, immediately followed by the sound of the sorcerer’s tongue.

  “That’s my cue,” Timothy said. Aidan could hear the grin in his friend’s voice. The younger boy was almost as excited to leave as Aaliyah had been. She had been so happy that she had actually hugged Aidan when he met them in his room.

  Timothy had also grown far more powerful than he had been on their last quest. While Aidan’s time had been split between the politics that came with being a “hero,” training with Aaliyah, and trying to better understand the basics of the sorcerer’s tongue, Timothy had spent his days creating and practicing powerful, intricate spells.

  Aidan was amazed at how quickly and easily magic issued from his friend’s mouth, even before they had left their cover.

  The shaman’s power met Timothy’s with a soft popping noise, and the guards unsheathed their short, single-edged swords.

  Aidan had been meaning to test a new spell he had learned from Timothy, and this was the perfect opportunity to try it.

  “Somnulae,” he said, pointing his wand at the two guards. The elves had barely taken a step before they fell face forward, snoring.

  “That was too easy,” Timothy said. The shaman was on the ground, tied and gagged by his own life force, and Aaliyah had knocked the counselor senseless. She threw back her hood and turned to Aidan.

  “I ag— Aidan watch out!”

  The young wizard spun as a sharp pain pierced the back of his shoulder. An elven guard stood behind him, a bloody knife in hand. The creature raised the weapon and threw it at Timothy before any of them could react.

  A female voice ripped through the air. “Kopismila!” The blade froze inches from Timothy’s nose and flew, handle first, back into the very surprised elf’s head. He crumpled to the ground in an undignified heap.

  “You weren’t planning on leaving me behind again, were you?” Eleanor asked, shimmering into view. She had been learning as fast if not faster than Timothy. She already had a pack on her back, and a huge grin split her face.

  Timothy grabbed her in a hug. “I haven’t left and I already missed you.”

  Aaliyah rolled her eyes and ran to Aidan, who had fallen to one knee. “Get him on the griffin, we can heal him on the way,” Timothy said.

  Every sorcerer had an aptitude for a certain type of magic. Aidan had yet to learn his, but Eleanor’s defensive spells were unrivaled and Timothy could cure almost any ailment.

  “I’m fine,” Aidan said through gritted teeth. He felt pathetic. The quest hadn’t even gotten off the ground before he’d been defeated. Had the elf been aiming to kill, Aidan was sure he would be dead. As it was, he could barely move his right hand, though it still somehow gripped his wand.

  “C’mon you big idiot,” Eleanor said, ducking under Aidan’s left arm to help him up. “We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

  It was true. By the time Aaliyah had helped Eleanor hoist Aidan on top of the griffin (Aidan was reluctant to let go of the amogh’s hand) Timothy had almost finished his healing spells.

  They took off from Beganor just as the sun released its final hold on the day and succumbed to the night.

  ***

  The sun was about to set as Kyra stood in the center of her village, facing two soldiers. On their shields was a crudely drawn map of the island country, Sortle-something, with a huge crack running through it. One soldier was young, and stood silent, while the other, older man, did the talking. Both were armored and bore long, heavy swords. The three were surrounded by a ring of villagers, all young or elderly.

  “The fact remains that your village has not met its quota for the past two years. Unless you can provide more supplies, we will have to take soldiers.” They spoke in the language of Aranumis, one of three that Kyra understood. The others were the language of the south and the Witch’s tongue. She doubted these imbeciles knew either.

  “We’ve given you all we have, and there’s no one left to take. I’m the only one left in this village between twelve and forty, and the law clearly states that you cannot take a village leader away from his or her position.”

  “On the contrary, the law states that no village leader can be taken from their position if appointed by a general. Who appointed you, girly?”

  Kyra clenched her fists. The soldiers didn�
��t know it, but she held in her hands a backup plan if they wouldn’t listen to reason. Though she was only sixteen, she was confident that these heavily armored buffoons would beg for mercy if they knew what power she wielded.

  “My family was given this village by Malcommer during the Great Wars. Do you claim to have more authority than the emperor himself?”

  “No, but your ancestor has been dead for thirty years. You were no more appointed by Malcommer to lead this village than I was.”

  “I don’t know,” the other soldier said, speaking for the first time. “Maybe there are other forms of compensation.” He reached out his hand. Whether he meant to take the bag at Kyra’s side or touch her face, she didn’t know. She didn’t care either.

  The young girl flung the powder she had been holding at their faces.

  “What is—”

  “Ignus.”

  Kyra felt a rush of power enter her body and then leave it. The dust cloud exploded, though Kyra never felt the blast. Both helmets were blown high into the air, and the soldiers thrown onto their backs. With practiced precision, Kyra reached into the bag she always held at her side and removed a small pouch. Before the soldiers could stand in their heavy armor, she had sprinkled some of the contents onto the suits, murmuring “Machang,” under her breath. Of the four basic elements of witchcraft, lightning, ice, potions, and metal, Kyra liked metal the least. It didn’t matter, as the spell was still effective. The soldier’s armor pieces were suddenly charged with different currents, (Kyra had no idea what that meant, but it was what the book said) and the separate pieces slammed together, legs to legs, gauntlets to sides and, as a bonus, boots to buttocks. The result was two entangled, powerless men. Throughout all of this, the villagers were unmoving, silent. They knew not to interfere when Kyra performed her magic.

  Kyra knelt next to the one who had tried to touch her and smiled, her voice dangerously low. “I agree. Your compensation will be that I let you live. If I let you live.” His mouth and eyes were open wide, but no sound came out. Kyra realized that the armor was suffocating them and released her magic, kicking away their swords as she did so.