The Phoenix King: The Thunderheart Chronicles Book 2

by Alexander Brockman

  She saw the two swordsman come through the forest, back to back, with weapons drawn. Aaliyah remained very still in her perch above them. She had learned during her first week at Camp Ward that human eyesight is terrible. It’s really only good at seeing two things, another human figure and movement. Also, few people ever look up. Aaliyah’s amogh clothes and ranger’s cloak broke up her outline, so all the girl had to do was remain perfectly still.

  The two soldiers passed underneath her and kept moving. Eventually they came back, less wary, and made their way to the stream, rejoining the group. Aaliyah quietly dropped from her tree and followed them at a distance.

  The youngest crossbowman was knelt over his older counterpart, sweating profusely as he tried to tie the mangled leg in place. Every time he touched the armor, the older man would slap him away and yell out in pain.

  The two swordsmen approached them, keeping their eyes on the forest.

  “Did you see the people who did this?” one of them asked.

  The crippled soldier gritted his teeth. “It was just one. A girl. Probably that accursed witch the commander wants dead.”

  The swordsman nodded. “Can you walk?”

  The crossbowman chuckled. “What do you think? You’ll have to find a way to carry me. I saw some big branches back there, you could build something.”

  Aaliyah’s heart leapt. If they carried their leader the soldiers would be less able to defend themselves and a lot slower. It would make it much eaier to pick them off.

  The two sword-wielders whispered amongst themselves for a moment.

  Finally, one of the swordsman came behind his wounded leader and lifted him from the back.

  “What are you doing? Unhand me. Did you hear me? That’s an order!” The hapless man began to scream in his own language, but to no avail. The other swordsman calmly unbuckled his leader’s front breastplate and threw it to the side.

  “Your country thanks you for your service. You will be remembered as a hero.”

  Then the swordsman ran the wounded hero through. The crossbowman died instantly.

  Aaliyah blinked in surprise. She had not been expecting that. Neither had the younger crossbowman. He fell on the ground and vomited as the children began to scream and cry around him.

  “It’s protocol,” one of the swordsmen said, hoisting the half-armored dead body onto his shoulder. “He would have slowed us down. I never liked him anyway. Watch my back while I toss him in the woods.”

  Aaliyah considered trying to finish the swordsmen while they finished their gruesome task, but decided not to. They were both still on edge, and Aaliyah had another day before they reached the mines.

  They kept moving on as soon as the swordsmen returned. The children were terrified and hungry, so the pace was slower than the day before.

  As they walked, the path gradually became an incline, and as they progressed up the terrain, the trees thinned. It wasn’t a problem for Aaliyah until night fell and the soldiers deviated from the path. They walked about half a mile into the forest, then up a rocky hill. There were no trees anywhere for Aaliyah to hide behind as they made their way to the top. The only sort of cover anywhere on the hill was a large boulder, right behind where the soldiers set up camp.

  Aaliyah hoped they would try to gather firewood and give her an opportunity to finish them off, but they had a torch and seemed to have no intentions of starting a campfire. It was hard for Aaliyah to see anything at the top of the hill as the sun disappeared behind it.

  The amogh girl settled in one of the trees and considered her options. She wasn’t nearly accurate enough with the sling to lob stones up the hill. A direct assault against her enemies might work, but she would have no way to keep the children safe during the fighting.

  In the end, she decided that darkness and stealth were her only friends.

  She waited until the remaining crossbowman and one of the swordsmen were asleep, leaving the third on watch. She observed him for at least an hour, counting every second. He walked around the campsite once every twenty to thirty seconds, checking all sides of the hill and the back of the boulder.

  It would take Aaliyah at least forty seconds to climb the hill. Her amogh clothing was made from nondescript brown and grey patches that could blend in almost anywhere, but the ranger’s cloak was designed specifically for the forest with shades of green. She would have to ditch it. The next problem was her face and arms. Her skin wasn’t nearly as white as Kyra’s, but it certainly wasn’t dark enough to be confused for a shadow. She remedied this by slathering mud over all of her revealed skin. She sent a silent prayer of thanks for the color of her hair. If she had been blonde like Timothy or Eleanor, she would have had to put mud in her hair as well. She put down all of her things back at her tree, save for the mace and two knives.

  Aaliyah crept to the bottom of the hill and waited until she saw the torch pass over her on one of its half-minute journeys. As soon as the soldier disappeared, she began to climb up the mountain. She let her instincts carry her over every cleft and rock. She was a cat, stalking her prey in the night. She made no sound as each foot deftly touched the earth.

  When she was a little more than halfway there she saw the light of the torch coming again. The amogh fell to the ground and curled herself into a ball. She closed her eyes as the fire came closer, to protect her night vision. If there was any danger, she trusted her ability more than her eyes anyway.

  It felt like an eternity that the light stayed there, but Aaliyah knew not to move. Perfect stillness was the only way to remain invisible. In time, the light receded back into darkness and Aaliyah opened her eyes.

  She easily made the rest of the climb before the soldier returned. She ran up behind the lookout, careful to avoid the torchlight. The other two men had chosen to sleep with their weapons and armor intact, in a circle of children.

  Cowards, Aaliyah thought.

  She waited until the lookout was at the boulder before jumping on his back. Her arm immediately went around his neck, constricting blood flow and stopping his scream. Before he could throw her off, Aaliyah swung her leg with all her might into his knee.

  He spun and fell at the same time, leaving Aaliyah on his back facing the camp.

  The torch fell to the ground next to them. Aaliyah kicked herself mentally as it touched the grass. She should have realized the ground was dry; there had been no rain during the entire journey. The plant matter immediately went up in a blaze of heat and light, quickly drawing closer to the bound children.

  The soldier started flailing underneath her, only a second before he would have gone unconscious. His neck loosened just enough to give him a few more moments of awareness, and his leg smashed into the boulder. Metal clanged against stone with an almost deafening roar in the quietness of the night.

  Aaliyah saw the two soldiers who had been sleeping spring up, while the children starting screaming in fear. The amogh sighed. She had wanted to take down the lookout non-lethally, but he had given her no choice. She twisted his neck, wincing as she heard it snap. She had never killed someone that way before.

  Oh yeah. I’ll be seeing you in my nightmares.

  She leapt off the body and darted into the shadows, drawing her mace as she did so. It would be a simple matter to retreat back down the hill, if she needed too.

  That was when she heard one of the children scream even louder than the rest, and the last swordsman yell out a challenge.

  The amogh slowly peeked around the rock. The swordsman was holding one of the little girls up by her hair, over the burning grass.

  “Come out witch, or I’ll roast the little brat.”

  Aaliyah unsheathed a throwing knife. The soldier was yelling down the hill on the opposite side, totally unaware of the danger behind him.

  Then something unexpected happened. The youngest crossbowman raised his weapon at the swordsman. Aaliyah hadn’t heard him talk before.

  “Put. Girl. Down.”

  Clearly he hadn’t yet mas
tered the language of Sortiledge.

  The swordsman turned, the screaming girl still struggling in his right hand.

  “Put that thing away, soldier. I’m in charge now, and we kill this witch tonight, even if I have to murder every child here.”

  The younger man shook his head. From what Aaliyah could see, he was less terrified than he had ever been, though his knuckles were still white from how hard he was grasping the weapon. He said something in his own language. Aaliyah understood the gist of it. “She’s just a girl, put her down or I shoot.”

  The swordsman threw the girl down just out of the fire’s reach and charged at his comrade. His sword switched to his right hand as he did so.

  Aaliyah saw the crossbowman loose a bolt, only to have it bounce harmlessly off the swordsman’s breastplate. The amogh decided it was time to intervene.

  The older man hit the younger with the pommel of his sword, a moment before Aaliyah’s mace took out his leg.

  Aaliyah ducked as the swordsman came back around. He was enraged. Aaliyah had seen it before, at Camp Ward. A person could be so filled with battle lust that they no longer felt pain. They knew no friend, no enemy. All they knew was death. Fortunately for Aaliyah, they also made mistakes.

  She ducked under a second strike, simultaneously bringing her mace up over her head. The chain wrapped around the blade several times. Using all of her amogh strength, Aaliyah ripped the sword from her enemy’s grasp and threw both weapons into the fire.

  He roared and leapt at her with his one good leg, but she was ready. She rolled under him and came up standing on the other side. He crashed to the ground, unable to stand with his shattered leg. Aaliyah took her unsheathed knife and plunged it into the back of his revealed neck. He died instantly.

  The amogh turned. The crossbowman had stood to face her. All of the fight was gone from his eyes. She knew that she could slay him if she wished and he would not try to resist.

  “Help me get these kids away from the fire, and I let you live,” she said.

  The soldier nodded and silently rushed to the circle of children. Together they cut each bond and ushered the children down the hill, back toward the path. Aaliyah looked back one time as the fire spread to the tents and down the hill.

  Four men had been slain by her hand in the past two days. Yes, they all deserved it. But Aaliyah knew each one would haunt her for the rest of her life.

  ***

  Aidan and Kyra walked slowly the second day. There was no reason to hurry. The hellhounds seemed to be leaving them alone, ever since Kyra did that weird thing with the ghost wolf. Aidan was pretty sure the cursed thing had followed them all day long, peeking out of the shadows at every turn. The wizard had never heard of such a creature in any of the numerous books he had (unwillingly) read. He didn’t like the energy it released. It was unlike any magic the wizard had ever felt.

  The day was pretty uneventful, almost boring. Kyra made him stop a few times so she could pick some flowers for her bag.

  They set up camp about an hour before sunrise. As it grew dark, Aidan’s heartbeat started to behave strangely, and he felt strong anger, fear, and guilt coming from Aaliyah.

  After a little bit of internal debate, the wizard decided to light a fire. They were far away from any humans who wanted them dead, and after the previous night Aidan was more afraid of the creatures in the forest than the men who were miles away. Also, he really, really wanted to use his favorite spell.

  After stacking some dead wood and clearing away the leaves, he leaned in close to his little pile and whispered “ingo.”

  Oh I’ve missed that, he thought as the blaze sprang to life.

  He looked over at Kyra. She was sitting on a nearby log, the firelight dancing on her pale face. She was mashing up some of the plants from her bag between two stones. Her hands moved with practiced elegance and grace. When she was done, she whispered something to her plant mash and it began to steam. Aidan saw the stuff shrivel up until it was just a powder. Kyra took some dry dirt from the ground and mixed it in, then put all of it in a small pouch that went in her bag. When she was done, the witch took out more leaves and began the process all over again.

  She really is incredible, Aidan thought. He and his friends had all been born special. Timothy and Eleanor had magic, Aaliyah was practically invincible, and Aidan had his own powerful magic. But as he watched Kyra, it suddenly dawned on him that she had nothing. Her only gift was a knack for really vague, incapacitating prophecies that may or may not come true. Everything else she had built for herself. Her magic, her home, her skill—those had only been obtained through hard work and determination. In a way, it was her weakness that made her the strongest of them all.

  Aidan saw the witch wipe a tear from her face with her sleeve, and suddenly felt like a massive idiot. Her guardian had been brutally murdered a few days ago, and he hadn’t even tried to talk to her. Between the running and the hunt for Garret, Aidan had almost forgotten that the one who suffered most was Kyra. The wizard went to his pack and pulled out the enchanted notebook Eleanor had given him. He sat down next to Kyra and opened it. Her hands were still covered in plant goop, so she touched it with her elbow.

  “We’re going to catch Garret,” Aidan said.

  The witch turned her head, probably to hide more tears.

  Wow, great encouragement Aidan, he thought. Maybe next time you should start with “It sure sucks that your family’s dead.”

  After a few moments of excruciating silence for Aidan, Kyra started to speak softly. The lettering that showed up in the book was softer and smaller than it had been before.

  “Garret has killed my entire family twice,” she said.

  Aidan cocked his head. “Your mother and father?”

  Yes, let’s bring up all her pain. That’s sure to make her feel better. By the Ancients, I need to just shut up.

  Kyra slowly nodded. “Not my father, he was gone before I was old enough to remember. But Garret did kill my mother.”

  The witch sighed and looked up at the stars. Aidan’s gaze followed hers. No one could say the place they had chosen to camp wasn’t beautiful. It was within sight of the path, but only barely. From what Aidan could tell, a forest fire had burned through the area at some point and made a perfect clearing in this spot. Several charred trees had fallen, one of which they sat on now. The trees hadn’t yet fully recovered, and the canopy left a large hole directly above them, letting in moonlight and a view of Aranumis’s night sky.

  “I could have stopped him,” Kyra said, her eyes fixed upward, save to glance at the enchanted notebook.

  Aidan shook his head. “There’s no way you could have known. Derrin wanted you to come with us.”

  Kyra bit her lip. “No, not this time. Before, when Garret killed my mother.”

  “What do you mean?” Aidan asked.

  “The prophecies,” she said. “Derrin believed I did not know when I was having them. He was wrong. I let him believe that because if he knew I remembered them, he would have asked me if I had ever had any he didn’t know about. And I could not lie to him.”

  “Oh,” Aidan said. “You saw …”

  Kyra’s lip was quivering. “Yes. It was the first prophecy I ever spoke. And the only one that ever made any sense. It even told me what to do. The voice said to make my mother go away the next day and visit another village. And I was so stupid, I didn’t believe it. I could have saved her.”

  The witch slammed her fist onto the log, splattering green plant stuff everywhere.

  “I didn’t even tell her about it. I was so scared, so …”

  “Young?” Aidan finished.

  Kyra closed her eyes. “Perhaps. But I can’t forgive myself while the man who killed her walks free. And now, he’s taken everything from me again. I won’t rest until he’s dead. At least fate is on my side. I’ll never forget the last words of the prophecy. But the Angel will fall by an Elderborn’s hand, never to rise again.”

  Aidan looked down
at the ground. He had always had issues with rage, though they had been better on this trip. Probably because he had been unconscious or incapacitated for most of it. In light of Kyra’s problems though, his seemed petty.

  “What about you?” the girl asked. “Why are you here, so far from home?”

  Aidan shook his head and stared at the fire. It didn’t seem right to tell her that he was on a quest to find his father when her family had just been killed.

  “Malcommer wants me and everyone I love dead. We want to hatch that egg you tried to steal. It’s our last chance to stop him.”

  Aidan could feel Kyra studying him.

  “No,” she said. “That’s not why you’re here. Maybe that’s why your friends are, but not you. But you’re not like the others, are you?”

  Aidan sighed. “No. The truth is, I don’t know what I am.”

  And so he told her. He told her everything. He had never told anyone that much. Aaliyah and Timothy had probably heard his story in fragments, but certainly not in whole. He told Kyra about his dreams of becoming a ranger, about his mother’s constant lies until he was sixteen. He told her about the rage that lived ingrained in his being. He told her about Marcus, and the Phoenix Ring, and the Battle of the Isle. The only thing he kept from her were some of his favorite moments with Aaliyah. His whole story filled at least twenty pages in the enchanted notebook.

  When he was done, Kyra put her hand on top of his.

  Great, now she’s the one comforting me.

  “If you help me kill Garret, I will help you find what you are looking for,” the witch said. “I have no love for Malcommer. I would be happy to see his end.”

  Aidan shook his head. “Thanks, but I think we’ve put you in enough danger. We should probably get some rest. Tomorrow we get to Wyvern’s Roost. And we are going to kill the Dark Angel.”

  ***

  Timothy and Eleanor had been up most of the previous night thanks to the howling of the hags and wraiths. They got to the soldier’s campsite early, but it seemed as if the men weren’t willing to start their journey until the sun was high in the sky. They’d made it through the night without incident, though Timothy wasn’t sure why. He wondered if the hags were bound to their territory.