The Phoenix King: The Thunderheart Chronicles Book 2

by Alexander Brockman

  “A village,” Eleanor said.

  “I need to rest,” Timothy said. “No wizard can heal himself. I can tell Eleanor or Aidan what to do, but they should both recharge first.”

  Aaliyah had never before noticed how brave Timothy could be. On their last quest, he had been possessed by a goblin, and was more a burden than a help. Now, though, he was willing to trudge on through the pain to conserve his friends’ energy.

  “The village might not be friendly to our kind,” Aaliyah said. She realized with a start that she was now referring to sorcerers, who were about as far from amoghs as fish from birds, as her kind. Times were strange indeed.

  “We have to risk it,” Eleanor said. “You and Aidan go first. Maybe he looks pitiful enough to get some sympathy.”

  “I’m not pitiful.” Aidan mumbled from the ground. “I saved your—”

  “Oh shut up,” Aaliyah said as she knelt and pulled his arm around her shoulder. Eleanor went to grab his other arm, but Aaliyah felt a sudden surge of jealousy and pulled Aidan away from the wizard girl.

  What was that? She asked herself.

  “Get Timothy,” she said.

  The two girls half dragged their friends towards the smokestack.

  They were far closer to the village than Aaliyah had known. If they had headed a little more to the east, they would have led the hellhounds straight to the tiny town.

  When Aaliyah broke through the trees, her heart fell. There were only about fifteen houses, made of thatch and wood, except for a center house made of wood and stone. It seemed like a quaint, peaceful place, but the villagers looked far from friendly. All were far too old to be warriors, but they carried a ridiculous assortment of weaponry and seemed intent on using them.

  At their head was a dark-haired, white-skinned girl who carried a knife and a strange leather satchel with runes engraved on the front. Something about her made Aaliyah uneasy.

  “We come in peace,” Eleanor said, coming out of the trees, “And we—”

  Someone shouted in a language that Aaliyah didn’t understand, but she clearly heard the word “Sortiledge,” and the men turned and fled, leaving the girl alone.

  Well that was easy, the amogh thought.

  Then the girl threw some sort of weird powder. Timothy’s eyes widened and he yelled “Witch!” a moment before there was a loud pop, and the three wizards were thrown to the ground. Aaliyah suddenly felt the magic in the air, the ground, even her friends, deaden. Even when Aidan used curses that removed magic, Aaliyah had never felt anything akin to this utter and complete lack of power.

  Suddenly, the amogh felt free. And powerful. Her warrior instincts kicked in, and she ran towards the girl, unsheathing a dagger and her sword as she went.

  Her enemy was clearly not a soldier. Her eyes widened in fear and she turned to flee, but Aaliyah was faster. She tackled the girl from behind and pinned her arms behind her back.

  As soon as the dark haired girl realized she was caught, she went limp. Aaliyah was impressed, she didn’t make a sound, even when the amogh put a knife to her throat.

  Aaliyah turned her onto her back. “Who are you, and why did you attack us?”

  The captive spat at the amogh’s face. Aaliyah pressed her weapon closer against the girl’s neck.

  “Kyra attacked you to defend us,” said an old, creaky voice.

  Aaliyah whirled and found herself face to face with an incredibly old, sickly looking man.

  “Derrin!” The black haired girl cried.

  Derrin said something in that other language to Kyra, then turned back to Aaliyah. “Many of our people fought your kind in the Great Wars. We saw you devastate hundreds of us with nothing but magic. One of your kind, Thunderheart, slew thousands of us in a day. What would you expect?”

  Aaliyah felt her face grow hot. She had never considered how the people of the Nefarious Lands had been affected by the Great Wars.

  “That was Malcommer’s fault.” She said, then immediately bit her tongue.

  The old man seemed to be sizing her up. Somehow, even though he looked like he would snap at the first sign of a breeze, Aaliyah feared him.

  “Malcommer was not unprovoked. But yes, he has taken his hate too far. If you come to this village peacefully, you are welcome. If not, then you will have to leave.”

  He gestured towards the amogh’s blade.

  Aaliyah glanced at her friends. All of them were in desperate need of rest or healing. The young girl grimaced and, though she hated to do it, sheathed her blade.

  ***

  Bartemus sat in his appointed chambers. His things, already packed, leaned against a wall. He had only one more matter to take care of before he left. He heard a rap on his door and stood. He had been waiting for this moment.

  As soon as he unlocked the stone door the elven representatives from Ariyahn barged into the room.

  “The egg. Where is it?”

  “Gentlemen, I do not know what you are referring to. Shouldn’t you have left three days ago?” Bartemus replied calmly.

  “We finished testing the blood found in your apprentice’s room. The arror is that of a pig, not a boy, so we know he wasn’t murdered in his room as you so claim. We believe he stole the egg. If you do not cooperate we will be forced to use extreme measures.” So saying, the green clothed one unsheathed his one sided sword, while the other gently closed the door.

  Bartemus smiled sadly. “For creatures of such immense age, you deceive yourselves if you believe you can defeat me.”

  “We do not have to,” the brown clothed one said. “If we present what we found to the council you will be hanged. Tell us where the egg is and we will forget Gurvinite’s ... idiocy.”

  “You won’t be presenting anything.” Bartemus said. “Nergaldok.”

  A ball of light appeared in each of Bartemus’s hands. He smashed the left one, and the green elf fell to the floor, eyes wide in horror. The warlock began to feel himself being pulled into the elf’s mind, but pushed away the memories. He was slowly becoming immune to the price of black magic.

  The other elf stared in shock at his fallen partner. “How do you plan to get away with this?” he said, voice shaking.

  “As far as the council is concerned, your griffin will have fallen into the water. Unfortunate, but not preventable. They will find the bodies washed up on the shore, along with the tools used to kill my apprentice and his friends. You will be remembered as cowards and murderers.”

  “Why?” the elf asked, his knees almost knocking together.

  “Because,” Bartemus said, slowly squeezing the other ball, “Aidan must do what I could not. He must kill Malcommer.”

  The elf fell to the floor beside his partner. Bartemus grimaced and pulled a communication crystal out of his pocket.

  “Malachi, the elves know. Dispose or capture the rest before they get back to Ariyahn. Make sure at least one of them takes a griffin first.”

  The warlock leaned down and closed the eyes of the two elves.

  “I’m truly sorry,” he said, “but there are greater things than you at work here.”

  He snapped his fingers and, with a quick spell, the bodies disappeared.

  ***

  Aidan moaned and rolled over. His entire body felt as if it were on fire. He heard Timothy and Eleanor talking to someone in the other room, and could feel Aaliyah sitting next to him.

  Great. As usual, I was knocked out.

  “Hey magic boy, time to get up.” Aaliyah’s voice was surprisingly tender, more caring than it had been since they had almost kissed on the beach at the Isle. Aidan found he was smiling as he opened his eyes.

  “Hey. Where are we?”

  Aaliyah explained, as quickly as possible, what had happened.

  “We are in Derrin and Kyra’s house. Apparently, he’s pretty sick. Kyra’s powerful, but not powerful enough to heal him. Timothy is doing what he can, but honestly, it seems hopeless.”

  “Is Kyra a mage or wizard?” Aidan asked, pu
lling off his blanket and standing. He was shirtless, and realized with satisfaction that Aaliyah’s eyes lingered on his chest, where the dragon claw scars stood out amongst muscles that had not gotten smaller with training.

  “Um, neither,” she said. “She didn’t have a wand or staff.”

  Aidan saw his ranger’s robes folded on the floor and picked them up, careful to flex every muscle possible as he did so.

  “So, a warlock? How old is she?”

  “She’s not a warlock,” Timothy said, walking into the room. “She’s a witch.” He spit out the word as if it tasted like manure.

  Aidan sat on the bed, preparing to be lectured. “What’s a witch?”

  “Sorcerer imposters. They’re just regular men and women, but they learn how to use plants, blood, anything, to make their own magic.”

  Aidan raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  Timothy laughed. “Yeah, except a lot of their magic requires a virgin sacrifice, or torture, or cannibalism, or sometimes even a captured soul. If a witch gets power hungry, they can go dark fast.”

  Aidan shuddered. He knew that some sorcerers had experimented with people in cruel ways, Aaliyah was testament to that. But a soul, was considered sacred. The only reason to touch a soul was to heal it.

  There was a knock at the door panel, and a girl stepped in. She was as short as Aaliyah, but there the similarities ended. She was pretty, but Aaliyah was gorgeous, a bonus of being an amogh. Aaliyah possessed huge brown eyes and soft brown hair surrounding perfectly toned skin and even teeth. This girl had black hair that couldn’t seem to decide if it was wavy, frizzy, or straight, coupled with dark eyes and a massive amount of freckles. She was holding a large book that seemed to be a translator.

  “I. Kyra.” she said, flipping pages with every word. “Derrin want. You.” she said, pointing to Aidan. “Come. With. Me.”

  Aidan smiled and stood. He realized suddenly that he hadn’t put his cloak on yet and was still shirtless. The girl stared at his scars with either awe or fear. Aidan couldn’t tell which. He threw on the camouflage and followed the girl out of the room. As soon as he was away from Aaliyah and Timothy he tried to gauge Kyra’s magic. Timothy had certainly been right about her not being a sorcerer. There was less magic flowing off the girl than a mouse. There was something else though. Something … old. Aidan couldn’t quite place it.

  At the top of the stairs Kyra stopped and gestured for Aidan to keep going. He found himself in a room that was almost bare, save for the bed where an old man was sleeping, and a small bag in the corner that seemed to be letting off a steady wave of heat. Eleanor stood next to the bed, sweat dripping from her forehead. Whatever magic she was doing, Aidan could see it was failing. He walked to her side and put a hand on her arm, letting some power flow through. He had become adept at supporting both Timothy and Eleanor, but he always found Eleanor to be easier. Her defensive aptitude was less intricate than Timothy’s healing spells.

  “How is he?” Aidan asked.

  “Not good,” Eleanor said, clearly relieved to have the help. “Timothy can’t heal this. Derrin’s own body is attacking itself. I’ve heard of it before but … I don’t think we can save him. I put him to sleep so I can set up some defenses for him, but I don’t know how long they will last.”

  Aidan looked down at the old man. There was a strength about him that had nothing to do with magic or muscles. The young wizard wondered who he had been before falling so ill.

  “How are you?” Eleanor asked.

  “Kyra’s spell hit me hard, but I’m fine.” Aidan said.

  “No, I mean how are you?” the wizard girl asked, turning to face him.

  Aidan blinked in surprise. Eleanor rarely spoke personally to him, especially when Timothy wasn’t there.

  “I’m all right I guess,” Aidan said.

  “Is it your father or Aaliyah?” Eleanor asked.

  Aidan blinked in surprise again.

  “You’re not exactly complicated, Aidan,” the girl said. “I can tell something’s bothering you, and knowing you it’s gonna be one of those two.”

  Aidan sighed and sat down on the floor, with his back against the bed. Eleanor joined him, with Derrin snoring behind them.

  “My dad isn’t so hard. It’s easy to just be angry at him, even if he did give me a god-like pet when I was a kid. With Aaliyah I just … don’t know what she’s feeling. One minute I think she hates me, and the next she says or does something that makes me think the opposite.”

  Eleanor was quiet for a moment.

  “When Timothy and I got together, he snuck out with me a couple times—”

  “Oh really, I hadn’t noticed,” Aidan said, grinning.

  “Shut up. Anyways, we both told each other things that we’d never told anyone. But he never, ever had to wonder how he feels about me. That’s why I love Timothy,” she stopped, realizing what she just said, before continuing “because I’ve never had to guess how he feels towards me. Even when you both left me to go on your quest, and he came back … different, I never once doubted him. I know he would give his life for me in a moment. Aaliyah is a good person, especially after what she’s been through. But if she really loves you Aidan, you won’t have to guess.”

  The snoring was suddenly interrupted.

  “I don’t know why he wanted to talk to you so much, but he wouldn’t let me start my magic until I promised to let him see you when I was done.”

  They both stood and Eleanor left the room.

  Derrin coughed twice then sat up. His joints popped as he slowly pushed himself against the head rest. Aidan reached out a hand to help, but the old man shook his head.

  “Aidan,” he said, “It’s good to meet you awake. I’m sorry about before … Kyra can be a little ambitious.”

  Aidan smiled nervously. There was definitely something different about this man.

  “You are the leader of this little group from Sortiledge, no?” Derrin asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that,”

  “I’m not sure you have a choice in the matter,” the old man said. “The others look up to you. Even the amogh girl. Perhaps it has something to do with your jewelry?” he gestured to the Phoenix Ring.

  Aidan instinctively closed his hand into a fist. The ring had never fallen off his finger, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

  “I understand you are looking for a griffin. I have not told the others, but I believe I know where it is.”

  Suddenly Aidan remembered that the egg, their only hope for victory against Malcommer, was gone. Bartemus would be so disappointed in him.

  “I’ll tell you where to find it,” Derrin said, “on one condition.”

  “What’s that?” Aidan asked, wary of the response.

  “When you leave this place, you must take Kyra with you.”

  Aidan was stunned. “Why would you—”

  That’s when the screaming started.

  5

  Timothy hated feeling small. He had a lot of practice. He would never forget the time that he felt the smallest. He was ten years old when he first met Malachi. Timothy had only known that he was an old warlock with the odd habit of blinking one eye at a time. Timothy was no stranger to magic. His mother was a wizard, and he had inherited her power. He knew that one day he would be a sorcerer himself, but for some reason Malachi terrified him as he’d stepped onto the ship that Timothy’s father, a merchant, called home. It turned out Timothy was right to be scared.

  Operation Garret. That was all Malachi claimed to know about the mission where Timothy’s mother was assigned. It was a joint project with the King’s Rangers, but the location, purpose, everything was a secret. She had gone silent three weeks earlier. For months after that visit Timothy had waited for something, anything that would give him clues as to his mother’s whereabouts. Finally, a week after his eleventh birthday, they found the body, or what was left of it.

  That was the day Timothy realized he wanted to be a heal
er, not a warrior. As a child he had believed that if he could heal the whole world, no one would ever hurt anyone again.

  He chuckled now as he remembered how naïve he’d been. He had never told anyone, including Aidan, about his mother’s death, until he met Eleanor. There was something about her that made the words flow so easily.

  Since his mother’s murder Timothy had felt very puny several times. When he was possessed by Grogg, whenever he trained with Aidan … and now, as Kyra’s eyes turned a dark purple and she began to scream as if possessed. One moment she had been trying to awkwardly translate a conversation with that book, and the next she had turned into a madwoman. Timothy raised his wand to cast a spell and felt the magic in the room deaden. He tried to move, but felt sluggish, like he was caught in a giant spider web.

  Aidan charged down the steps, but got caught by whatever was holding them before he came close to the witch. Even Aaliyah seemed incapable of more than a slow push, so whatever was holding them couldn’t be magic.

  Kyra’s mouth opened, and though her tongue never moved, a deep voice began to speak.

  The phoenix awakens, the hellhounds bray,

  When the Ancients go to war,

  Love will be torn, and friendships frayed,

  When the Ancients go to war,

  The Guardian falls, the Dark Angel will rise,

  When the Ancients go to war,

  The Demon will be the King’s demise,

  When the Ancients go to war,

  Blood will be spilt, a choice must be made,

  When the Ancients go to war,

  The world torn asunder, forever changed,

  When the Brothers go to war

  Slowly, whatever was holding the friends in place disintegrated.

  “What in the dragon’s breath was that?” Aaliyah asked, her hand drifting closer to her favorite knife.

  Timothy gulped down a wave of fear. “That was an Elderborn witch. The slayer of kings.”

  ***