Phoenix Ascendant - eARC

by Ryk E. Spoor

  Tobimar stared at the little Toad. “Sand and wind, Poplock, are you still eating? I swear, you’re either going to explode or turn into a ball.”

  “Hey, this is good stuff. I’m making up for the months on the road. You weren’t exactly holding back tonight either,” the little Toad answered, bouncing to Tobimar’s shoulder.

  Kyri stopped, looking into the huge banquet hall. “Oh, Balance, it’s such a mess.” She started in.

  “Young lady, you go right to your friends in the family hall,” Vanstell said. “This isn’t the first party we’ve cleaned up after, nor even the twentieth. I appreciate your desire to help, but I am not that decrepit yet, and I’m not alone. Treidi and Riderin are already at work, and we hired the Fandre brothers a few weeks ago, if you recall.” As if on cue, he raised his gaze to a medium-sized young man with dark, curly hair who was cleaning up the table. “Raltu! Do not try to overdo it, young man! Better to make five trips and break no dishes than three trips and break five!”

  “Come on, Kyri,” Tobimar said, putting his arm around her. “Let the man do his job.”

  She leaned against him as they walked. “Balance, this is going to be a long, long day.”

  “It was a long day by the time the sun rose,” Poplock said. “What with getting this banquet prepared and all. It’s only been a day and a half since you went to burn out the Curse and we ended up chasing Aran to the end of our quest.”

  As they reached the room, they saw Hittuma—the former Bolthawk—and Aran standing outside the door. The two knelt as she approached.

  “Aran, Hittuma, why are you out here instead of in there?”

  “Because you have not yet finished laying your commands upon us, Myr—”

  “Please don’t call me that!” Kyri said earnestly.

  “But it is who you are,” Aran said. “Do you expect us to forget it? Forget what we saw?”

  “I…” She glanced at Tobimar, but he could see she sensed that he had his own questions in that area. “No, I guess not. But I am still Kyri Vantage, too, and the Phoenix. Call me Phoenix, and that’s close enough, for I was also the rebirth of Myrionar.”

  “Phoenix, then,” Hittuma said. “You have not yet finished laying your commands upon us, Phoenix, and…and I find that I do not wish to wait. I felt the eyes of the people upon me, and while they mostly withheld their open scorn, I could see that they only tolerated me for your sake.”

  As she began to speak, he continued, “I know this is deserved. I knew what I would see, and indeed there was less hatred shown me than I deserve. But I would have your commands upon me, that I might know my path.”

  Tobimar hid a smile; others might not be able to tell, but he could see that Kyri wasn’t at all ready for this; understandably, she hadn’t given the issue much thought in the past couple of days.

  “Is there another reason?”

  Hittuma Thorvalyn nodded. “I have lost my brother and friend. Skyharrier and I were almost as were Condor and Shrike. I have heard his screams in my dreams, and I have no stomach for celebrations now. We served evil, and we knew what we served, and still I wish it could have ended differently.”

  “So do I, Hittuma,” Kyri said quietly.

  Aran stood. “I have a…suggestion as to how we might start, if you would hear it?”

  Kyri looked at him gratefully. “Of course, Aran. Does it have to do with where you went this morning?”

  “Yes,” Aran said. “I went to the Retreat and searched the area; you renewed the Retreat itself,” and his eyes echoed Tobimar’s own awe at that memory, “but other remains of the battle…were still there.

  “I have recovered the Raiments: my own, of course, Bolthawk’s, but also that of Skyharrier, Silver Eagle, Mist Owl and,” his voice broke but continued, “Sh-Shrike. Thornfalcon’s is held in the Watchland’s vault.

  “I would propose, then, that our first quest be to seek out the Spiritsmith and give him the tainted Raiments, that they be either destroyed or purified.”

  Kyri’s brows rose, and then she smiled. “That is well-thought, Aran. With the war over, the Spiritsmith will return to his forge, and reaching his forge will, itself, be a trial. The Spiritsmith may himself require something of you also, simply for intruding on his forge with uninvited presences. If so, you will accept whatever commands he places upon you. Afterwards, you will return to me, and we shall see what other expiation will be in store for you.”

  There was no question of whether there would be more. While Aran was forgiven, he had chosen to share Bolthawk’s fate, as the only other of the former Justiciars still living, and Bolthawk had been a false Justiciar even longer than Condor.

  “It shall be done. But…” Hittuma hesitated, and then dropped to his knees once more, “I ask of you one boon, M— Phoenix.”

  She looked surprised, but nodded. “You may ask.”

  “Aran has retrieved the Raiments…but the remains of our fallen comrades he has left behind, for we knew not what should be done with them. I ask…I beg of you that they not be cast aside as worthless husks but given a proper sending, however you might say it should be done.”

  Tobimar was startled. “Kyri?”

  Her face was a shade paler; she looked at Aran, who swallowed but nodded. “Aran…you even left your father there?”

  “They were all traitors to the Balanced Sword,” he answered, voice rough but no accusation in his eyes. “It was not for me to judge whether they deserved, or could ever receive, forgiveness even in death. Only you can judge that.”

  She beckoned to Tobimar, and they moved a ways down the hall, leaving the two former Justiciars to wait. “Tobimar, what do I do?”

  “Why are you asking me? Terian’s Light, you are Myrionar, Kyri! You have to accept that these kind of questions are your problem!”

  “But…” she chewed her lip, thinking. “they were in service to Virigar. There’s nothing to have a service for in that case.”

  “Maybe not,” Poplock said. “They turned on him, and he dumped ’em. They lost their powers. Maybe that means he didn’t get their spirits. Shrike hadn’t died quite before Voory chased us out of the room, and he’d sure made his position clear.”

  “I can’t believe we’re advising a god as to how to deal with the dead,” Tobimar muttered. “Even if she wasn’t a god before. Kyri, don’t you know how to handle this?”

  She gave a nervous giggle. “I…sort of do, and sort of don’t. It’s not like I was given a bunch of training in whatever gods do, and really, I’m a new-born god. However Myrionar handled it before, I’m going to have to figure it out myself, because that version of Myrionar ended then. Now I have to live on into the future and someday when I know how, I go back and close the loop. Maybe. I don’t think even that is guaranteed, somehow.”

  “Voorith might have tried to grab at least one or two of their souls, but he got kinda interrupted by Blackwart,” Poplock said, continuing his train of thought. “And at the end, Virigar was fighting for his life, so I’m pretty sure he didn’t have the chance to go grabbing for people who were dead or dying.”

  “You’re saying that their souls just might still be waiting on the threshold, and if I don’t do something, they could get taken by something else. Or start wandering, go revenant, that kind of thing.”

  “Kyri…the conditions under which they died were horrific. Tailor-made to cause something very bad to happen if their souls don’t get to move on in some manner,” Tobimar said.

  She was silent a moment, then looked at him with her gray eyes wide and serious. “Tobimar…what would you think if—”

  “Stop.” He held up his hand. “You’re Myrionar. Maybe you don’t know all of what that means, but you have to make your decision. Don’t base it on what I—or anyone else—will think. You are the judge. And only you, for things having to do with your temple and faith, and if this isn’t about your temple and your faith and your people…I don’t know what is.”

  She looked at him, and then nodd
ed her head slowly. With a deep breath, she turned around and strode back to the others. “Hittuma Thorvalyn, I will grant you—and Aran Shrikeson—this boon,” she said, and her voice shook the hall; silver, gold, and sapphire light shimmered about her, and even Tobimar was seized with a momentary impulse to kneel.

  Kyri—Myrionar—went on: “Your comrades—Shrike, Mist Owl, Skyharrier, and Silver Eagle—fell defending their friends and fighting against my greatest enemy, no longer in service to the power that ensnared them. In the name of Mercy, I give you leave to have them sent on in My name, and if their spirits still linger, they shall come to the Fortress Beyond and I shall judge them fairly.”

  Bolthawk and Aran both bowed to the ground, and Bolthawk said, with a trembling voice, “Thank you, Phoenix.”

  She knelt before them, and the fearsome majesty was gone. Only Kyri Vantage reached out and took their hands. “You’ve lost your father twice, Aran. Go put him to rest. And Bolthawk—Hittuma—send your friends to a far better place. No matter how they may be judged…it will be better than what he would have given them.”

  “Aye,” Hittuma said, voice still unsteady. He gripped her hand tightly. “As Shrike would have said, aye, that it will, even if you send them to dark judgment indeed. I thank your mercy…the same mercy my little sister always had.”

  He stood suddenly and bowed. Without another word, he set off down the hall, face working; Tobimar saw tears as the Child of Odin passed him. Aran pressed Kyri’s hand once more, bowed to Tobimar, and hurried after his friend.

  Kyri shook her head. “I don’t feel so different…except when I do. Tobimar, how am I supposed to handle this?”

  Tobimar tried to laugh, failed miserably. Instead, he just stared at her silently for a moment. Finally, he said, “How am I supposed to handle it? I love you, Kyri Vantage, Phoenix, but can a mortal man love a god?”

  Kyri opened her mouth, but she, too, fell silent. For long moments they stared at each other, and Tobimar felt a chill fall over him. She didn’t know the answer any more than he did.

  A loud snort made them both jump. “Oh, mudbubbles, both of you. Gods fall in love with mortals all the time,” Poplock said with exasperation. “Look at Aegeia; they say half the population can trace their ancestry back to one or the gods or another! Blackwart’s NAME, look at your own family, Tobimar—how do you think Terian’s blood ended up in your family line?”

  Poplock bounced on Tobimar’s head hard enough to stun him, leapt to Kyri’s shoulder and smacked her gently in the side of the head. “Stop worrying about these things, you two. You aren’t different people, you’ve just got different powers and some new problems, and you really just need to stop overthinking this!”

  And suddenly the nebulous fear that had held him since he first saw the Phoenix become the Balanced Sword lifted, and he laughed, and saw her laughing, laughing so hard that suddenly she had to lean against the wall.

  “Oh…ohhhhh, Tobimar, ow, my ribs, that hurts…” she finally gasped. “But…once again…”

  He reached out and embraced her. “Yes, once again…we should just do what the Toad says.”

  Chapter 50

  “I’m so terribly sorry, Watchl—”

  “You need to get out of the apology habit, Kyri,” Jeridan said, looking up from his place at the smaller table in the Vantage private chambers. “No one here will demand you keep to a schedule, and I assure you that I have been far from bored talking with Light Miri and Hiriista.”

  Kyri opened her mouth, realized that she was about to apologize for apologizing, and then—for the second time in about ten minutes—found herself laughing so hard her sides hurt. Tobimar put an arm around her, grinning broadly. Poplock bounced down, landed on the table, and started rooting around in the various snacks.

  Finally she recovered, and took her seat next to the Watchland. “What have you all been talking about?”

  “Mostly about Kaizatenzei,” Miri said. “You told him the story of your adventures, of course, but the Watchland has a greater interest in our country as such, so he’s been, well, interrogating me on everything about it—purely in a friendly manner, of course,” she put in hastily, “but…you know, sir, you’re forcing me to actually realize that I wasn’t paying as much attention to the country as I thought.” She tilted her head. “I suspect that Lady Shae could answer your questions better.”

  “Most certainly,” Hiriista said. “Lady Shae administered the country, while you were more her troubleshooter—even if, as we later discovered, you were technically the mastermind.”

  “Well, she thought she was the mastermind,” Poplock said, nibbling on something. “But Master Wieran was running that show by the end, and of course the big V was the top of the scheming pyramid.”

  The Watchland glanced around. “Where are Hittuma and Aran?”

  “On a personal mission,” Kyri answered, and explained briefly. “That was one of the things that delayed me.”

  “That and seeing off the rest of the few hundred guests, yes,” the Watchland said. “It is well. And I will certainly give them Thornfalcon’s Raiment to take with them. That was an excellent suggestion on Aran’s part. What do you think the Spiritsmith will do?”

  Kyri thought back to her interactions with the Spiritsmith, the many conversations she’d had with him, and what had happened afterwards. “Honestly? I think he’s going to probably dismantle them completely and forge new Raiments as new Justiciars are selected. The old Justiciar’s names are tainted, too.”

  Tobimar nodded thoughtfully. “I hadn’t thought about that, but you’re right. A new Myrionar, a rebuilt Retreat, makes sense to have new Justiciars.”

  “You have anyone in mind?” Poplock asked.

  “You volunteering?” Kyri asked with a grin.

  “Oh, no no no no! Not me. Definitely not my kind of thing. Now maybe Miri over there…”

  Miri blushed a lovely shade of rose, something Kyri had to admit she somewhat envied; that light skin color was so rare, and Miri carred it well. “I…no, I really can’t, at least, not now. Still so much to do in Kaizatenzei—I’m going to have to go back soon, now that we know you’re not in danger anymore.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Jeridan said gravely. “The great war may be over, in the sense that the coordinated attacks have ended, and the Black City banished. But unless I greatly miss my guess, it will be a long time before peace as we knew it before returns to Zarathan as a whole.”

  The truth of his words fell over Kyri like a sodden blanket. Dalthunia’s still held by…whatever took it over under Kerlamion and Virigar’s plan. I haven’t any idea how badly the Army of the Dragon, or the forces of the Archmage, suffered in their siege of the Black City, but they couldn’t have escaped unscathed. No one knows what happened in Aegeia yet. Artania’s going to be rebuilding for years.

  Then she forced herself to sit up a little straighter and banished that dark line of thought. “You’re probably right, Watchland—but then that just makes Miri’s presence even better. It’s time we cleaned out Rivendream Pass. It’s time that it become Heavenbridge Way again, as it was before the last Chaoswar severed our connections.”

  “Now that we know that Justice and Vengeance are just the other side of our mountains, yes!” Miri said. She frowned suddenly. “But with the Sun and Stars all gone…”

  “I know,” Kyri said. “But all the good that is there isn’t going to vanish overnight, and—if I’m right—a lot of the corruption in the surrounding forest came from Sanamaveridion, yes?”

  “Almost certainly,” Hiriista said. “Now that there are no longer secrets being kept from me, I was able to delve into the surviving archives, including some of the materials that Poplock salvaged during our evacuation of Wieran’s laboratory and kindly gave to me to study. The power of the Stars and Sun effectively sealed Sanamaveridion’s power and influence away, forcing them underground and water to, in effect, flow back to the surface outside of the established barrier. Thus the corru
pt forest and the Pass of Shadows, what you call Rivendream.

  “But Sanamaveridion has, himself, been removed. There is no longer an active force of great evil sealed beneath Enneisolaten. The combination should mean that if we remain strong and true to the principles of the Light, we should be able to maintain Kaizatenzei much as it is, at least for some decades.”

  “But we do need allies. And so do you,” Miri said, smiling at the Watchland. “I’m so happy to find out that you’re actually on our side! I’d been sure, from what we’d learned, that at best we’d be coming to a country without a ruler.”

  “It could easily have been exactly that. Or worse,” Jeridan replied. “And I agree that I much prefer it this way, especially as it gives me the opportunity to open relations with such a wondrous land. I must travel there myself, meet with your Lady Shae. In fact, I would say I should do so very soon.”

  Thinking about the situation in Kaizatenzei reminded Kyri of something she had been worried about. “Miri, I hate to bring this up—but you and Shae have basically betrayed everything that Kerlamion represents. Won’t he be, to put it mildly, extremely displeased with you? And if he can’t take out his displeasure on the Werewolf King…”

  Miri laughed, and there was the sharp edge to her smile that showed the dangerous warrior that hid behind the sparkling façade. “Oh, Father is undoubtedly furious with us beyond measure. But…Kyri, you have no idea what a defeat he has just been given! The Black City forced back against his will? The Great Seal shattered by a handful of children in his throne room?”

  She grinned again. “We still have a few…lines of communication we can use, and the cost of this setback was tremendous; half the city is severely damaged, and several of Father’s most important generals are either dead from the action, or have disappeared, perhaps fleeing from expected punishment or merely deciding that this complete fiasco indicates that even Kerlamion is not eternal. Voorith and Yergoth of the Mazolishta were killed in their manifest forms and will take a long time to recover, Balgotha hasn’t been heard from at all since the battle and some suspect he suffered the final death, Kurildis simply went silent, and even Balinshar’s disappeared.”