Phoenix
Rising
Book 3 of the New Age Saga
Timothy Ray
Also by Timothy Ray:
The New Age Saga
The Acquisition of Swords
Pure of Heart
Phoenix Rising
Prophecy
Coalescence
The Rotting Souls Series
Charon’s Blight: Day One
Charon’s Blight: Day Two
Charon’s Debt
Phoenix Rising
A Ray Publishing Book/ May 2017
Published by
Ray Publishing
Tucson, AZ
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2017 by Timothy Ray
We're going off tonight,
To kick out every light,
Take anything we want,
Drink everything in sight,
We're going till the world stops turning,
While we burn it to the ground tonight.
-Nickelback
- “Burn it to the ground”
for Tabby
Prologue
Two thousand years ago…
The shadows had fallen across the land; the marks the fading sunset left were cruel in the silent mocking of the darkness that followed. The blackness coveted it all, creeping upon moon shadows; the finger of a homicidal creature. It was not to be considered shadows, for the full moon in all its radiance had not risen far enough from the horizon to cast shadows. It was more like a black hole swallowing everything that came near. The land was blanketed in it; the nothing that terrified children. The moon slowly ebbed into the night sky, shedding some feeble light upon the world, pale when compared with the flaming fires of the phoenix emanating from the sun.
The forest below the moon was dark and secretive. Its trees had woven their own blanket with its mouse-eaten holes. Crickets and frogs sang with all their heart’s content. The moon rose into the sky, reaching higher and higher, seeking loopholes for its light, but finding little purchase.
At one of the holes in the blanket of evergreen trees, leaves rustled in their stems from creaking limbs. Somewhere, a wolf howled, crying for redemption and joy, the joy the wild creature felt for the passing of the sun; the beginning of another night. It embodied the need to hunt—kill, in the privacy of shadows.
A figure cloaked in darkness touched the grass of the clearing, momentarily hesitating, then moving swiftly. It glided across the meadow, noticed only by the crickets and the dead. Moonlight caught a brief glint of metal, but the shadowy figure swung its cloak quickly to cover it up. Then it was gone.
Life returned. A cricket led the way as the others followed, their heads bowed as they sang their lonely tune. A deer came into the clearing, the doe’s head cocked, ears perked. After a moment, content, she bent her head and began to eat.
The shadows were no burden to the unheard stranger. She made her way silently through the forest, following a path that had grown familiar within her mind. No grass grew upon the path; the years had molded the ground too hard for the living. Of course, that didn’t stop the fallen deadwood that littered the ground. The forest, like every other living thing, had its plagues too. Beetles, more often than not. She could smell the freshness of the rain that had fallen during the day. The plants, as sparse as the little ones were, reeked of the smell. She could pick up the scent of conifer leaves that routinely fell upon the ground.
The wolf howled again, closer this time. She knew she had nothing to fear, but hastened her step anyway. Tonight, there would be no delay or the events that she had foreseen would be in jeopardy. She silently moved through the foliage about her. A snarl appeared upon her beautiful countenance, as she thought of something coming in her way. Its death would be quick, as not to disrupt her plans further. She had been excited earlier, so much so that she had forgotten a necessity on her excursion to the edge of the Pennines—she had run out of gas, with five miles left to travel on her planned course. She had left her car, not caring for what happened to it. The driver would be found by morning, but by then, it would be too late. Now, nothing else would get in her way.
She reached another clearing and peered out from the safety of the trees. A castle surrounded by shadows loomed over her; reaching for the heavens. It was perched upon a hill like a hawk watching for its next meal. A great rock wall blocked the way forward. From where she stood, only the towers and parapets were within sight, but she already knew what lay beyond the rock walls that served as defense and as the only passage to the castle. She had flown over it many times, on a private plane she had bought a few years before. The pilot lay in a coma at the hospital. She would return to him soon, as promised.
Go back, a voice whispered in her mind. She knew this voice; it came from the forest around her. Its feeble attempts to stop her would be in vain.
The clouds passed quickly overhead, as they rushed from the castle grounds. Even the clouds knew what evil lay within the castle; which was why it had stood empty for all these years. Not even the bravest wolves ventured onto the grounds or within shouting distance of them. For a moment, she was transfixed by the evil that emanated out of its pores. A howl erupted, forcing its way across the forbidden land. To any normal woman, the howl would have been terrifying. There was a ripple across her sight and the image of a barren countryside superimposed over that of the castle, but her training kept the magical defenses at bay.
She herself was not British, but she understood enough of the culture to know that these lands were forbidden, if not by spoken word, but by the unspoken insight that all of Britain seemed to possess; leave well enough alone.
This is your last chance to turn back, the voice said, in its desperate, rough tone.
She laughed aloud, what were they going to do to stop her? She was clear of the trees, straight before her stood the castle and her destiny; what could they possibly do to change what she was about to set on course?
As if in answer, there came a snap of a branch breaking. The noise got louder and it sounded like a tree was being uprooted. She turned to meet the threat, which was hidden behind a mask of trees. She turned her head to the right, and barely saved herself from the maw of a wolf as it dove for her. She instinctively put her right hand up and the wolf latched on. It lost its grip and fell to the earth on her left. She drew a dagger, which she kept behind her robe on her back, snugly in her belt. She beckoned to the wolf, which glared at her, snarling. The wolf looked towards the forest, lowered its head, and fled.
She was turning back to face the forest, when she was sideswiped by a branch, which sent her flying toward a tree. The impact would’ve killed her had she not taken it with her shoulder. Any higher and it would’ve been game over. She got up holding her left shoulder, looking for her attacker. Whatever it was, it had retreated. Shaken, she decided it might be a good time to depart this area.
Yes, leave, go home, and never return.
“Bah, you have left me no choice but to go forward, I will not get lost in your forest this night,” she answered. She thought of how foolish she must seem, talking out loud like that for no reason, but who cared? There was no one within earshot. She turned and faced the castle once more.
Sweat appeared on her brow as she thought about the task before her. She wiped it from her forehead. She knew what lay before her, what she would have to do to reach her goal, and the many rewards that it would yield. Motivated, she started slowly forward, then at her usual pace as she grew comfortable once more. She crossed the clearing quickly and reentered the forest on the opposite side.
Her studies of the castle reassured her that she could pass onto the castle ground
s without tripping any of the less serious defenses, if done right. She had worked too hard for her to do them wrong. Her eyes started to glow, but she forced the magic back down, this was not yet the time for that.
Boulders crept up on her from both sides. Her slim body and soft face did not suggest her quick movements as she leapt from one to another. The castle loomed closer as she made her ascent. She left behind her fears of the forest with every leap, forgetting the wolf in every effort to reach her goal. Soon, she would forget that silly mortal fear, and be one with her destiny. Her surefootedness surpassed any before who had attempted the treacherous journey and none possessed the power or the skill that she did.
The clamber over the boulder was a quick and easy one. The figure stood tall upon the highest boulder, looking at the castle; her black cloak billowing behind her in waves. The woman in black wore a pair of leather hiking boots, specially padded for soft running and climbing. She also wore a black hunting suit, and a long claymore was strapped across her back. There was power beyond imagining hidden within the sword and it could only be called upon by one who knew how to use it.
She stepped quickly from the rock and walked toward the castle. Statues loomed on both sides. They were stone representations of dragons and they stood above all that approached. The smell of rain dissipated, death and despair quickly took its place. She saw bones of men who had failed in their tasks, lying about where she walked. She laughed. These men were foolish. Only a woman could give birth to a New World; which is what she would do once she had her treasure.
It had been rumored that any that approached the guardians that didn’t wield the power needed to get by, would die slowly and painfully at their feet. There was no way to reach the castle without passing between them. She had studied well. Only one who had passed the tests could bear arms against others with the prize that many sought; the Book of the Dead. These tests were to prove who was worthy of such a prize.
Confidence streamed throughout the woman in black. She strode past the snarling dragons, her long red hair flowing with a breeze. She could feel them probe every inch of her.
Look at us child, embrace us, you are not worthy. No one is worthy.
Yes, spoke up the other dragon. No one is worthy, especially not a bastard child girl that is lost, with no light to show her the way home. Little orphan Annie, look at us.
Their now glowing red eyes bore into her. They looked her up and down like hungry lustful men, searching for her weakness. Her mind felt pulled and torn, but she kept her eyes focused and refused their beckoning call. She could hear them call to her to look upon them so they could finish her miserable life.
You think that just because you lost your father, that you are owed something in this life? You are owed nothing, you are nothing! One of the dragons snarled.
You may be the descendant of Morgana, but that does not make you worthy to take what once was hers, came the other.
She fought back the retort she felt forming. So they could read her mind, knew about her—so what? That did not change anything nor deter her from her course. Morgana le Fey was her ancestor, and like her, she would lay claim to her birthright. These bitches had nothing to say that would make her change her mind. Sweat started to pour down her face as her nervousness grew, overwhelming her concentration. She felt her confidence slip.
Look at us! they cried in unison, but that was their last attempt to stop her.
She was past them, but not yet proven worthy. The first test passed, she walked faster, avoiding the other numerous pitfalls around her. There were stones that would give way to an abyss, snakes that would poison the mind as well as the body, and arrows that would fill the mind with despair as her bodily functions failed one by one. The next test could be quickly disposed; the dangers around them could not. She had knowledge of this and that made her powerful.
The second test, the test of skill, loomed before her, like a knowing father. A knight stood guard before a set of stairs that led toward the castle. Two rock walls shot straight up from either side, forcing the advancer to go through the knight. He was clad in armor common among the eleventh century. The feathered helmet did not move as she drew closer. The breastplate shone with the moonlight’s reflection, a gleaming two-headed axe was held within his right hand. As she approached, she noticed that her reflection could be seen in the knight’s armor.
When the intruder was within five feet of the knight, movement caught her eye; the feather upon the knight’s helm quivered with life. Suddenly, two blood red orbs appeared in the helmet. The knight was instantly full of life. The axe swung swiftly down upon the intruder.
The woman in black was quicker, dodging the blow without a moment’s hesitation. The long sword came up from beneath the cloak, power surging throughout it as she brought it to bear. The sword began to glow as heat came off it in waves. The knight raised the axe above his head, preparing to make another swing.
Unexpectedly the knight lunged at her. Startled, her reaction was slower, and she was caught with the force of the blow. The long sword was flung from her hand as she struck the ground with her right shoulder. Pain flared up her side; she felt nausea try to make her pass out and she fought it.
He stood over her, red eyes watching. Did you really think you’d get past me? He asked within mind, his laugh echoing in the depths of her soul. Those dragons have always been fools and I’m surprised you got past them. You are not worthy! She could almost hear him snarling when he said that last. He brought the axe over his head, ready to deliver the final blow.
The woman’s senses flooded her once again. The knight brought the axe down but she rolled over and out of the way as it struck the stone where she had been a moment before. She crouched and watched the knight as he turned to face her.
Nice moves. Why not give up? I promise to make it quick, he said, as he tossed the axe from hand to hand. Then he gripped it tightly and brought it down again. She leapt out of the way and landed by her sword. Her hand grasped it and she felt the power pour into her. She lifted the sword before her and stood up.
“Try me,” she said, her voice deep and filled with power. She could see him hesitate, but the years of confidence would be his undoing. The axe came at her again and she stood her ground. It hit the sword with earth-shattering force but did not budge. The axe shattered, crumbling to dust as the sword’s power leapt up and enveloped it. The power then surged into the knight and a howl rose from him as it ran over and through his body. His body convulsed, a black pulsing light engulfing his armor. The armor disappeared and the howl faded. The knight was silent as the red orbs retreated back into nothing.
Sweat ran down her body in streams, she could feel it slide along the curves of her breast running down towards her waist. She had narrowly missed death. She could feel herself shake from within and she forced it from her and concentrated on the task at hand. The woman stepped over the place the knight had been and started to climb the stairs. She felt a slicing pain across her back and caught a flash of light behind her. She went down on her knees, hands grasping the stairs, sword falling in front of her. She could hear laughing from behind. Anger rose within and she grasped the sword so tight, her palm went white with pressure. She stood and turned to her attacker, back stinging and the warm trickle of blood warming her back.
At first, she thought he had fled, he was nowhere to be found. She scanned the area looking for a sign of where he hid. Then she saw the axe hovering five feet away and realized that he was waiting for her to reenter the arena.
“I beat you,” she spat at him. She undid her cloak and let it fall to the floor. She brought her sword around, ready to fight again.
You have no idea what you are dealing with, much less how to defeat someone who has been dead for hundreds of years. I did not become the Guardian of the Second Test by letting little girls get the better of me, he snarled back.
She could not see him; all she could see was the axe, hovering. This would make it tougher, if he dropped t
he axe how would she find him?
She stepped forward, feeling a little like Darth Vader. Her sword dancing in the moonlight. “Bring it on, old man,” she commanded him and he complied. The axe came up and around, she deflected it and pushed him with her blade. The axe danced in mid-air, then came across in a sweeping motion. She deflected it again, then brought her sword up in an arc, then reversed and sliced through the air in a downward motion. She could hear him cry out in pain but could not see what she had hit.
Blindly, she waited for him to attack again.
Then what she feared most happened, he dropped the axe. It fell dead to the floor with a loud clang. An image flashed in her mind, the axe had been destroyed earlier, where had he acquired another? She turned to look in the corner and was just in time to duck as a dagger flew from a nearby weapons rack. How could she have missed it? Was it there before? Cursing, she advanced on it, sword deflecting the weapons flung at her. Then it ceased and all was silent.
She stood there in silence for a moment; the only sound was her harsh breathing as she waited for his next move. “Come out, you coward,” she cried out in anger. “Show yourself!”
She felt an arm close around her throat and her lifeline closed as she grasped for air. Her sword almost dropped from her hand as her other one flashed upward to grab the arm that was choking off her air supply.
I have never been beaten and I will not let you be the first, he growled. She was beginning to see stars as her life started to slip away.
“NO!” she yelled grabbing her attacker’s arm, using her body weight to shift backward, pulling him up and over her. She could feel the impact as his body hit the ground. Quickly, before he could move, she brought her sword down on where she thought his heart would be. He cried out in agony, the scream piercing her mind and ringing throughout her body. The scream died out and she could hear him gasping at the stale air, probably out of habit.
Phoenix Rising (the New Age Saga Book 3) Page 1