II
“Sae, lit me gie thes straecht, ye lot ur runnin' abit tryin' tae pit a kink in th' Phoenix’s plans an' ur headin' north in order tae actually draw 'er attention awa' frae yer friends, fa ur carryin' some magical sword 'at will baith heal th' Elven Kin' an' eventually destroy th' Phoenix?” Riska asked, eyebrows raised.
Merlin cocked his head as he considered. “Well, that’s one way of putting it.”
Riska suddenly laughed. “An’ whaur dae Ah sign up?”
Kylee couldn’t help but chuckle with him. She had a feeling things would go this way and felt heartened to have the dwarf want to join their ranks. After all, there were not many out there that could sneak up on her and she had to give respect to those that did. “That quickly, huh? Don’t want to think it over?”
The dwarf shook his head. “Ah was headed eest tae fin' a place tae dae exactly whit ye lot ur abit, wa swatch a gift cuddie in th' gob?”
Reyna leaned forward and eyed the dwarf directly. “I don’t think you understand what you are getting yourself into. Those that travel with this mage are on borrowed time.”
Kore bristled at the remark, his tusks becoming agitated as his red eyes fell upon the black knight. Surprisingly the dwarf hadn’t reacted to Kore’s presence, having been warned by Kylee of the orc’s demeanor ahead of time. But it looked like Reyna had forgotten how protective the warrior was of their mage.
“Lass, we ur aw oan borrowed time. Th' real question is, whit ye dae wi' th' time given an' hoo tae make th' most ay it,” Riska intoned back, his brow drawing together as he stared back at the sneering woman.
The trees around them were suddenly crackling, the leaves rattling in warning as a torrent of wind tore through their camp. Melissa and Merlin rose to their feet, eyes unfocused as they studied the forces around them. Riska’s eyes had grown in size and even Reyna was caught unprepared by the sudden onslaught of the elements. Kore turned in the direction of their horses and moved off to calm them as their world erupted into chaos. Tuskar whined by her side and she tried to rise, but a quick gust of wind almost made her topple over and she was forced to remain where she was.
Just as quickly as it had come, it was over and the mages looked at one another in understanding. “Did you feel that?” Melissa asked in awe.
Bird song erupted around them and even the trees seemed to join in with their melody. Tuskar rose up and howled, his voice added to that of the wildlife rejoicing nearby. She got to her feet and gave Merlin a wary glance. “What just happened?”
“They did it, the King is restored,” Merlin responded with a huge grin and Tuskar once more howled by her side.
She was overridden with violent emotions, love and victory sweeping through her entire body as her nerves lit up with joy. They had made it safe and the deed was done.
“Whit Kin’, th’ Elven Kin’?” Riska questioned, getting to his feet at last. “What’s 'at got tae dae wi' 'at bludy win' 'at jist burst us?”
“The land and the King are one,” Merlin told them with a grin. “As the King is restored, so is the land around him and it rejoices with his rebirth.”
The dwarf eyed them wearily, his hand stroking the long, muddied beard as if reconsidering his decision to join them.
“Still want to come along?” Reyna asked in a sneer. Even the victory the rest of them were enjoying didn’t faze the woman one bit. Did anything effect the black knight’s heart?
Images of Jared came to mind and she forced her doubts away. She doubted even she could rejoice if it had been her sister that had died in his place. With grim understanding, she accepted the coldness of the black knight’s stare and tried her best to move on.
“Ur ye kiddin'? Ye lot jist got a whole lot mair interestin',” the dwarf chuckled, and Kylee was forced to grin once more.
III
John rode at the head of his army, Windel on one side, Serix on the other. Brigette had remained behind to oversee the defense of the castle and protect his wife, son, and newborn daughter. It had broken his heart to leave his family behind, but he could already feel time slipping away from them and knew that they needed to be underway if they were going to get to Forlorn in time.
General Brasten rode on his right while Roland led the cavalry to the rear. Bordin’s army marched behind theirs and John looked upon the rear of the elven army ahead. It was only fitting that Uriens lead the advance, it was, after all, his home they were rushing to defend. Covering the supply train and protecting the force’s march were the Dwarves, Noelani finally sober enough to take command. The dwarf had locked himself in a room for days after the confrontation in the throne room and had appeared red eyed, but on his feet, as they made to set out that morning.
He could sympathize. After what he’d experienced, he wished that he could lock himself up and do nothing but drink, but he had responsibilities to attend to that kept him from such indulgences.
He turned in his saddle and glanced behind him, but the castle was long out of sight, and he wondered if he’d ever see it again. The parting with his family had been hard on him, but what choice did he have? Leave the Elves to fight off the Phoenix alone? This wasn’t just their fight and he couldn’t abandon them after they risked themselves to come to their aid during the siege. Even without that, he would’ve gone. It was not in his character to abandon their friends and hide behind his walls.
To the north, a storm hovered on the horizon, occasional lightning strikes beckoning them to come closer. He shivered involuntarily. Such a display was just a tip of the iceberg of what lay in store for them and he couldn’t help but feel concern for their chances of survival.
“Are we going to have to march through that?” he asked Windel, hoping the elven aide would be better acquainted with the route to Forlorn than he obviously was. Though he had studied the maps, he had been only a boy the last time he’d ventured this way, and the geography was slowly becoming unrecognizable to his trained eye.
Windel shook his head. “We’ll steer east towards Griedlok, then north. It should stay on the western horizon after that, unless bidden to move in our direction.”
Goosebumps rose on his arm. Steel and armor were one thing, but magic was alien to him, and it made him realize just how unprepared for this battle he truly was. He looked to Serix. “Don’t suppose you can shut that thing off?”
The man chuckled. “I wouldn’t begin to know how. That kind of magic is beyond even me,” the mage admitted, eyes watching the storm in the distance.
The earth began to shake around them in a violent display of force, and wind struck him so hard it nearly unhorsed him. Gripping the saddle tightly, he looked wide eyed at the men around him as they all dove to the ground to protect against the sudden onslaught of wind. A banner man fell to one knee, the Lancaster flag whipping violently above his head. John leaned forward in the saddle and roared at the mage riding next to him.
“Where’s this coming from? Are we under attack?” he hollered as loudly as he could, the wind ripping his words away faster than they could be voiced. He cursed his ignorance of the magical forces being displayed around him and hated that he had to rely on someone else for guidance in such matters.
Serix was shaking his head, eyes unfocused as he held firm and allowed the gusts to strike his body. The black cloak billowed behind as the mage raised his arms towards the heavens and looked to be embracing the unnatural wind striking at him from all sides.
“Sire, maybe we should dismount!” cried his aide, who was having to bend over his mount completely to keep from being blown free.
The quakes subsided and the wind dispersed, as if having never existed in the first place. Serix remained as he was and John felt anger rising at the mage’s reaction to the chaos that had gripped them.
“What was that?” he demanded of his new magister.
Serix broke out into loud bursts of laughter. “Oh, she is going to be so pissed! He did it, that stripling of a boy actually did it!”
He stared at
the mage with fury. “Explain yourself! What boy did what?”
The mage continued to laugh and as the men began to pick themselves up around them, John was forced to move his horse closer and grip the man’s shoulder directly, making him turn and face him. “What. Boy. Did. What?” he repeated slowly.
“Your brother, Sire,” the mage managed between roars of laughter. “He’s found Excalibur and given it to Erik. The Elven King is restored!”
His words were so loud that all around them were suddenly silent, then a cheer rose from the rear of the elven army before them and John knew that word would quickly reach the commanding Knights at its head.
His own heart was lightened by the news and he looked in the direction of the elven forest, knowing that his brother had somehow made his way there and was now awaiting their arrival. The idea that Tristan, the younger, skinny boy who was too timid to shoot a deer had somehow defied the Phoenix, retrieved Excalibur, and made it through enemy lines to give it to the Elven King was just too much for him to comprehend at the moment. It would not be reconciled.
“Are you sure?” he asked the mage, but the look in Serix’s eyes answered his doubts immediately. “Well, I’ll be damned. Looks like this sacrificial crusade just got a breath of hope boys! Let’s get a move on, your second-born Prince awaits!”
Cheers rose from the army behind him and with renewed vigor they moved forward once more.
“He did it, Sire,” Windel whispered with excitement, the elf obviously enjoying the moment he helped to bring about.
He smiled in return. “It appears so. Come on, let’s not keep them waiting any longer than we have too,” he told his aide as he kicked his horse forward and eagerly retook his place at the front of the army.
They still had a week’s ride ahead, but now instead of marching towards the shadow of doom on the horizon, they were riding in the sun; with their hopes renewed and their pride restored.
I’m coming Tristan, don’t you dare leave until I get there.
IV
Pissed did not cover the rage that filled her body as she stood before the quivering child huddled at her feet. She had felt it when the sword had been given to the Elven King and the fury that rose within had lashed out at every living being that dared to stand in her presence. She had come here to this cell to look upon this child, trying to decide if she should just kill her and get it over with. The anger within screamed for retribution but her heart counseled patience. There was a better way to handle this without wanton destruction of the plans she’d already set in motion.
“Bring her,” she commanded a goblin cowering in the corner. The creatures were next to useless and she had it in her mind to wipe them out many times over the centuries, yet they did prove useful on occasion.
The creature bowed and entered the cell, snatching up the sobbing elf girl huddled on the floor. Turning, she smiled at the whimpers the child made as she was forced on her feet and made to follow after her. The elven girl was barely able to keep up, her body badly beaten. The rags she wore dragging along the floor, her long black hair sticking out at all angles, her bruised face barely tracking where they were going; eyes staring into nothing.
Entering her throne room, she pointed towards the center of the empty hall and the goblin threw the girl on the floor at her feet. “I think it’s time to prepare you for your return to your father,” the Phoenix spoke calmly, her smile widening.
“Fitzroy!” she roared, the gargoyle shifting and looking her way. “Get down here!”
The giant gray wings unfurled and with a crash, the Gargoyle landed on the ground just behind the whimpering child. “Yes, my Queen?”
The Phoenix ignored him for the moment. She pulled her dark maroon robes close and sat on her throne. Her red long hair flashed into view as she threw her cowl back, red eyes glaring across the room. She turned them on the wretched creature prostrating himself before her. “Goblin, go fetch the other prisoner and tell that human his Queen has need of him.”
Bowing, the goblin disappeared from sight and she looked to the gray behemoth before her, flexing the claws of his hands, red eyes peering at her expectedly.
“Do you know why my former Horsemen failed?” she asked the gargoyle, trying to wipe the sneer off his face. “Because you brought me a bunch of brainless idiots that couldn’t last a month before getting wiped out.”
“Death—,” the Gargoyle interjected and the Phoenix sneered in response.
“That traitor will die soon enough. That one, I admit was my mistake, trying to create a being so perfect that it ensnared Death itself. The others though, that was yours!” she roared, flames starting to slither across her pale skin.
The talons clenched as the gargoyle’s hands wringed themselves in barely masked fury. “I only did as I was ordered. If they failed, it was not through fault of mine,” he snarled.
Anyone else she would have ripped them limb from limb. Yet, he had served loyally since her rise to power and she was forced to admit there might be a sliver of truth to what he said. But only a sliver, nothing more.
“You summoned me, my Queen?” Clint asked as he stalked his way into the throne room. His long brown hair had recently been washed and he wore black armor, his dark cloak flowing as he proudly stepped before her. He had recently closeted himself away upon hearing the news of his father’s death and she knew that he’d tackle his new assignment with a vengeance.
A growl issued from the right and a very large orc was dragging a shackled minotaur behind him as the goblin prodded the beast from its rear. It had been captured raiding an orc settlement to the north and she had ordered its incarceration for further study. The Minotaurs were a tribal, unruly race that always seemed to best her armies, no matter how many she threw their way. Such a feat deserved respect and further inspection if to be overcome in the future.
The red furred beast growled at her as it was dragged to stand next to the snarling gargoyle. As she looked upon the four assembled creatures before her, she couldn’t help but smile. Yes, these creatures would suffice.
Calling upon her magic, she stepped forward and went to work.
Chapter 4
New Beginnings
I
Dawn found Tristan kneeling before an altar in nothing but a white jerkin and pants. The dinner the night before had ended with Erik insisting on knighting him into the Knights of the Realm; something that he had never believed conceivable when all of this began. Part of the ritual was the contrition ceremony he was currently performing and he felt humbled kneeling before the altar; the morning light casting a shaded glow through the colored glass around him.
He had barely spent any time in the cathedrals back home, never feeling the draw to proclaim his faith and take part in mass like most of the populace. Yet, this was a tradition and part of the knighting ceremony, so he felt obligated to see it through to the best of his abilities.
His knees ached and his body was worn out. There was a growl from his stomach, having not eaten since the dinner the night before. As he looked upon the visage before him, he felt truly stripped of emotion, an empty shell waiting to be filled. He understood the purpose behind what he was doing, but yearned for at least a piece of bread to soothe his aching hunger.
The double doors opened to his rear and he turned to see a young boy in a brown shirt and pants approach, his feet treading softly on the cobbled floor. “It’s time,” the youth told him and Tristan struggled to get to his feet.
The boy stepped forward and offered his arm, which Tristan gladly took. “Now what?” he asked, as he finally rose and began following the boy back towards the opened doors leading into the chapel.
“Now we get you ready, the King is waiting,” the kid responded. He had to be in his early teens, with short brown hair, no facial hair, and light blue eyes. His pointed ears were longer than Willow’s, but not by much.
“No breakfast first?” he asked, his stomach growling along with him.
The boy shook his hea
d, “that’ll have to wait for the feast being held in your honor, Sir.”
“What’s with the Sir crap? I’m barely older than you are,” he returned. At home he wouldn’t have noticed it much, he was a Prince, but the Elves weren’t his people. He had expected a bit less formality and was surprised to see the shocked look on the boy’s face.
“That’s how all squires address their assigned knights, Sir,” the youth explained as they exited the chapel and began the journey to an adjoining room across the hall.
The Knights of the Realm had their own version of a palace here in Forlorn and he had stared at the architecture with fascination when he had first arrived. Now, he was too tired to even move his feet, much less look at the statues adorning the hall.
They entered the chamber that had been prepared for him and it hadn’t been lost that the King’s own chambers were next to his. Though the King resided mainly in the royal palace, he had his own rooms here if the nights grew too long and occasion called for it. He sat on the edge of the bed and saw that his gear had been stowed on the right side of the bed, Willow’s on the wall to the left.
He had to admit his mind wasn’t functioning at its fullest and it was just catching up to him what the squire had said before. “Did you say you were assigned to be my squire?”
The youth nodded as he pulled Tristan’s shirt off, tossing it aside as he reached out and pulled him towards the bathroom. “Yes Sir.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he commented dryly as he stepped out of his pants and climbed into the tub of hot water. It felt soothing against his sore skin. He pushed his head back and closed his eyes.
“Did I do something to displease you Sir?” the boy asked as he began to run a wash towel over Tristan’s exposed arms.
“What? No! It’s just, when Merlin gets here we might have to set off again, and it’s not the place for a young boy to be,” he replied, opening his eyes and staring at the squire.
Phoenix Rising (the New Age Saga Book 3) Page 7