The Phoenix Chronicles_Alone in the Light

by M. K. Williams

  She opened the door and sat in the back, her eyes scanned the blade. She was overjoyed that Leceth was dead. He had been part of the Quartet but she cared less for him than for any of the other members. He was merely an opportunist; he did not care for the group’s true goals, whereas she on the other hand was loyal. She cared little for the rewards that would come from future endeavours, but merely for the chaos that they would cause. Whilst she continued caressing the blade on her lap her men finished loading the van and a short five minutes later they were on their way, silently into the night.

  …

  Yi-Mao was the first to step into Leceth’s house, closely followed by his three companions.

  “Oh dear lord. What has happened here? It looks like hell,” Roman said as he looked at the vampire’s remains on the floor. He grimaced at the smell of vile rot that filled the room.

  Yi-Mao walked over to the green slime. A voice within him was telling him that it was Leceth but he had to be sure for himself. “Andrew, do you have a spell which will determine if this is definitely Leceth?”

  “Possibly,” Andrew said quietly. He was taking in the mess and destruction and looked sad, not really horrified or repulsed. Just sad and forlorn. He knew that Kristian was reckless but he cared for the boy and now he worried for him, for his state of mind and his well-being.

  Yi-Mao bent over and took a piece of fabric from his pocket. He tore a piece off and dipped it into the remains. “We best take a sample of the other three piles as well,” he said, looking around the room.

  Andrew watched the Phoenix master take a sample with a bit of cloth and as he went to stand up Andrew flicked his wrists and instantly produced a handful of small vials. He moved to Yi-Mao and handed him one.

  “If I am to find a spell to determine the owner of these remains I’m going to need a little bit more,” Andrew said as Yi-Mao took the vial.

  “I’ve said it before, you’re handy to have around!”

  Brendan watched the two old friends before making his way over and collecting a couple of vials from the old wizard himself. He turned and went over to another of the piles of rotting slush and took further samples with a look of disgust on his face.

  Andrew looked over to the vault and made his way into the room; looking down at the mess he imagined what would have transpired. “It must have been some fight,” he said to himself before closing his eyes in concentration. Andrew’s body glowed and suddenly turned into a ball of light that whizzed quickly around the room and then zipped off to the rest of the house. Yi-Mao moved to where Andrew had been standing. He stepped over the objects that littered the floor, trying carefully not to stand on anything. He took in the empty vault and its pillars, which had once contained beautiful and priceless antiques.

  “We are more than a little late,” Yi-Mao sighed with the realisation that someone had already been in this room.

  He stepped back out to see Brendan and Roman examining a hole in the wall in the main hall and the room it opened out into. “Anything?” Yi-Mao asked of them.

  Both men replied by shaking their heads solemnly. Roman pointed to the opposite side. The others looked over and saw four pale, flesh-coloured sticks. As Yi-Mao walked over to them he realised that they were fingers, Leceth’s fingers. The nails were long and dark green. With this, the flash that was Andrew reappeared in the room and rematerialised into the old wizard.

  “I have searched the building; there is no one here and no sign of Kristian,” said Andrew.

  Yi-Mao put one of the severed fingers into his pocket as he listened.

  “Time to go I think,” Yi-Mao spoke to no one in particular; the men looked at each other, solemn expressions were worn by them all. They were all thinking the same thing. They slowly exited the house in silence and when outside the main door there was a bright flash and they were gone, no longer in the grounds of Leceth’s mansion. The four men reappeared a few hundred miles away in central London, just outside the Order’s building. They all looked at one another and contemplated the reality of what had just transpired.

  “He’s killed Leceth, hasn’t he?” Brendan whispered to Yi-Mao.

  Yi-Mao looked over to his most trusted friend; he wondered how Kristian could have pulled off such a feat. Leceth was no ordinary vampire.

  “It appears so. Remarkably, he appears to have killed Leceth and survived,” Yi-Mao replied.

  “I suspect that we weren’t the only ones to visit the crime scene. It appeared as though someone had beaten us to it,” Andrew said, speaking over Brendan and Yi-Mao’s private whisperings.

  “I reached the same conclusion. We need to update Jonathon, it won’t be long before the Council is with us,” Yi-Mao said, concerned about what new troubles would come from the Council’s indignation.

  Andrew and Roman walked off as Brendan held his pace to continue his conversation with Yi-Mao.

  “Kristian could have been abducted again? He could already be dead elsewhere,” Brendan said, genuine concern about Kristian lacing his words.

  “I don’t think he’s dead. My heart tells me he’s alive. If he’s been abducted we should soon find out,” Yi-Mao replied.

  “Find out? How?” Brendan asked.

  “Well, if the Council aren’t banging on our doors soon, we know they don’t have him,” Yi-Mao said as he began to make his way through the main doors, Brendan closely following.

  …

  - Chapter Twenty-Five -

  Unbreakable Bonds

  “You’re late, old man,” said a cloaked figure, her voice echoing through the large open space of an old abandoned warehouse. “Could you not find the place?” Again, her voice resonated off the tin walls, the sound shrill and unpleasant as it pained the tall, shrouded man’s ears.

  “I apologise, my friend. But one could not slip away, I was busy,” his voice was soft yet deep and seemed to take longer to traverse the room’s entirety; he paced towards her.

  The pair now stood directly opposite each other, staring into the darkness of each other’s faces, which were both covered by overhanging hoods. The female figure was concealing an object behind her back but her posture was dominant, her head held high. The man’s stance was similar but seemed less dominant; his hands were at his side and his head bowed.

  “Are you going to tell me what has happened? Where is Leceth?” asked the man, his tone direct.

  “Considering you are late, that is hardly the tone you should be taking with me. I did not see you running to Leceth’s aid. You didn’t even provide the relevant intel, you don’t really bring much to the Quartet do you?” her tone was mocking, but generally she viewed him with respect.

  “Edith! Enough of this, where is Leceth?”

  She stepped back and glanced around at the empty space. “Leceth is dead. We arrived too late. And I thought we weren’t to utter names; doesn’t that take away the secret part? Shall we take off our robes now?”

  “Leceth is dead? Are you sure? What about the Phoenix?” The man spoke quickly, the pitch of his voice getting higher with concern.

  “The boy was gone before I got there. Leceth is most certainly dead; I saw the rotting pile of his remains. The place was a mess, let me tell you, that boy put up quite a fight,” her voice sounded so cold and malicious, deeply uncaring.

  The man raised his hands to his forehead; deep panic rushed through his body and overwhelmed him. “First Sauror, now Leceth. So much for a quartet. We shall have to clean out his place, there is too much there, too much to lose. The Order will no doubt be there to investigate.”

  “The Order is already there,” she interrupted.

  “Ah, yes, well of course they are,” he said this to himself rather than in agreement with her. “What about the eye?”

  Not responding with words, the woman swung around her arms to reveal a large black sack. “Do not worry. I have sanitised the place. Everything of importance has been removed. See whilst you were busy being ‘busy’, I actually was busy.”

&nbs
p; Looking down at the globe, relief swept over the man and subdued the feelings of worry and fear he had been experiencing moments before.

  “Well done. Perhaps the plan isn’t completely beyond salvaging. Have you consulted him yet? Have you informed him of Leceth’s death?”

  “He doesn’t require consultation, he is all-knowing.” As the woman spoke she held the globe within the cloth so that it was shrouded; holding it up high she allowed the material to fall from around it, revealing the eye. The globe was clear and made of an ancient material, not unlike glass. Within the centre burned a flame. As their eyes gazed into this flame, it grew steadily larger and brighter as though sensing their eyes upon it. It soon became a swirling ball of fire. Bright reds, oranges and yellows flickeringly illuminated a small area around them in the vast dark space.

  “Speak.” The voice came from within the globe and didn’t need the echo of the warehouse to send it around the room.

  “Master, Leceth is dead. A rogue Phoenix has slaughtered him,” said the male figure.

  “Yes, of this I am aware,” said the voice. “You have done well to conceal the plan from the Order. They are still blind to my intentions,” the voice was dark and fierce, enough to send chills down the spines of any.

  “Master?” the man said. “The Order is more than suspicious about Leceth’s actions prior to his demise. There will be an investigation, one that we cannot hide from. Perhaps we should abandon the Phoenix plan for now. We can find another way for you to return.” As he spoke his voice quavered as though he knew his request would be met with anger.

  “NO! My return will herald the destruction of the Phoenix. Why do you fear the Order? The Phoenixes are insects and as such they will be exterminated. Have you located ‘The Faithful?’” His voice was darker, angrier and filled with contempt.

  “Master, I have found him. But it will, I am told, take some time to release him. And the Juggernaut will soon be with us. Your faithful are returning, but the larger your army grows, the more conspicuous we become to the Order.” The woman spoke with glee as though the thought of being caught appealed to her, as though it was part of the thrill.

  “You will follow the plan. Soon I shall be among you and you shall receive the rewards. The Phoenix who killed Leceth, I want him found and killed. See to it.”

  The pair bowed to the globe and Edith spoke. “Consider it done my Lord. What about the Quartet?”

  “Môn’ark Toral will make a fine addition, bring him to me. Soon Sauror will rejoin you and the Quartet will be restored. This, my friends, shall mark my return. Now, go and bring ‘The Faithful’.” The bright light shining from the globe began to fade and soon all that remained was a tiny flickering flame.

  Edith dropped the globe back into the cloth and pulled the material around it. She looked at her shrouded companion. She knew who he was, yet she knew the importance of the secrecy.

  “What about the informant? Clearly a member of the Order, any ideas?”

  “None, but like all ‘informants’, he or she cannot remain a secret forever. Their identity will soon be revealed to us I’m sure of it,” the man replied as he started towards the exit.

  …

  Jess opened the door awkwardly due to the many bags of shopping she was carrying. Pushing the door with her body, she squeezed in and closed it with a kick. She froze as she approached her door as it was ajar; she was certain she had shut it on the way out. There should be no one home.

  She gently placed the bags on the floor as quietly as she could and made her way up the stairs. On arrival at the top step she leaned over and pushed the door open fully; her stomach turned as she felt adrenaline rush through her body. She hoped for a second that it was Kristian, but something inside her told her that it wasn’t, something told her to be silent. Tiptoeing in, she looked from side to side, taking soft steps towards the kitchen. Entering it, she saw no one and quickly moved to the drawer on the worktop and pulled out the sharpest knife she could find.

  Going slowly from room to room, she searched courageously for a possible intruder; her heart raced. She was more frightened than she had ever been in her life and felt as though she had held her breath since climbing the stairs. She searched for over fifteen minutes, checked in closets and under beds; she finally relaxed and decided that she was just being paranoid. She returned down the stairs, picked up her bags carried them back up and plonked them down on the sofa. She still had the knife dangerously stuffed down her back pocket.

  Taking it back to the kitchen and putting it away; she chuckled to herself in relief and embarrassment, although she still felt slightly uneasy. Suddenly a thud came from somewhere in the house and she jumped. She well remembered that Kristian had warned her about people trying to hurt her to get to him and she was suddenly filled with icy fear again.

  Composing herself, she tried to convince herself that it was a door slamming, perhaps the downstairs door which she may have accidentally left open. No, she had definitely closed it. She leapt back to the drawer and took the knife back out, and slowly began to make her way out of the kitchen.

  She entered the lounge apprehensively and was just about to phone the police when she noticed something different. On the coffee table, which had been empty a few moments ago, bar a few coasters and a newspaper, now lay an envelope. She glanced around nervously and made her way slowly to the table. She was afraid to touch it in case it was booby-trapped, ready to explode once she opened it. After a few moments of staring at the blank white envelope, she put the knife down and reached for the mysterious package.

  It was unsealed; she opened it quickly and pulled out the paper within. Unfolding it, she saw her name at the top and recognised the poor handwriting instantly: it was a letter from Kristian. She was suddenly filled with mixed emotions, she was thankful that he was alive but angry with him for scaring her and not showing himself. She sat down and read the letter aloud to herself.

  Jessica

  Where do I start? How about I’m sorry? That’s a pretty good place to start.

  I am sorry that I couldn’t find the courage to say goodbye to your face. I am sorry that I have to go. I am sorry that you ever got to know me.

  I guess I was afraid that you would try and stop me from leaving. I have done something terrible and I have to run. It’s the only way to keep the others I care about safe. I know you would understand, that you would hug me, make me a cup of tea, and tell me that you love me no matter what. I know that and that’s why it breaks my heart to have to write you this letter. You know me better than anyone else.

  I have found out something about me, Jess: I hate revenge. Not because of what it has made me do but because of how it’s made me feel. I enjoyed it, Jess, watching that monster die was worth every second of pain I have ever felt. Does that make me the monster? I cannot lie to you. I have lied to myself for too long, but not to you. I’m glad he’s dead, I’m glad it was I who did it and given the chance, I would do it again.

  Well, I can’t stay here all day, watching you walk around the house with a knife like a lunatic!

  I want you to know that if I could stay I would. I love you more than I thought I possibly could.

  Keep what I have told you to yourself please, don’t tell anybody, trust no one.

  Burn this after you have read it.

  I shall remember you always. Kris x

  “I don’t, and I will,” said Jess as she screwed up the letter and held it close to her chest. Tears began to fall from her face as she knew she was going to have to find him or lose him forever.

  …

  Jonathon walked out through the large oak doors holding a golden parchment in his right hand. He knew as soon as he stepped over the Order’s protective threshold he would be gone; he was right. In a blinding flash, he was whisked away, teleporting thousands of miles from London, materialising at the entrance to a remote cavern which the Order assumed was somewhere in northern Iran.

  Standing on the rocky ground Jonathon strugg
led to steady himself. Gazing at where the cavern should be he could see no entrance but he knew it to be there. A solid wall of rock directly in front of him instantaneously burst into life. Changing its shape, it separated allowing a passageway to open. Jonathon cautiously walked down the corridor that now lay ahead of him. The walls of the corridor were smooth and artificial unlike the rock outside concealing the cavern. Ancient flaking scripture lined the walls and Jonathon could not read any of it.

  Coming to the end of the corridor he saw an archway adorned with symbols indicating what lay beyond; it was in an Ancient dialect Jonathon couldn’t read but he knew exactly what it said, who it announced. Passing under the arch and entering the room he was shocked to see the towering and intimidating frame of Môn’ark Toral. The Vinji’s face was filled with aggression and as his eyes fell upon Jonathon he could not help but react.

  “You will surrender the boy. There is no other option. The games are over, human.” Môn’ark made his way towards Jonathon as he shouted, but Jonathon didn’t step back; they both knew that no violent act could take place in the sanctuary that was the ‘Hall of Arbitration’.

  “I’m here to talk to the Arbitrators, Môn’ark, not you,” Jonathon turned away from him and stared at the only thing in the room. Three plinths stood an equal distance from one another at the far end of the hall.

  “We shall see what they have to say. This time you have gone too far,” Môn’ark responded turning to face the plinths.

  Jonathon had never seen the Arbitrators before, but had read every account that previous directors of the Order had written about them. They were known as the guardians of the Treaty; affiliated to neither side, they were the resolvers of disagreements that would otherwise result in war. His eyes examined each of the Arbitrators, they were what were referred to as demigods, half-Ancient, half-mortal, and as far as Jonathon was aware they were the only ones of their kind left on earth. Long ago, Ancients had vanished from the world and shortly after, all their offspring perished. The Arbitrators witnessed the signing of the Treaty between the Order of Light and the Council of Tivernal. The three arbitrators predated the Order, endured the Vinji–human war and were born before the age of man.