Phoenix Rising (the New Age Saga Book 3)

by Timothy A. Ray

  Kylee’s face turned away from his. “You don’t have to push, I’ll go with you. And live or die, I will make my stand at Forlorn by your side. Now, please leave me be, I need to be alone.”

  Nodding in understanding, he rose from his feet and walked to the entrance to the tent. Seeing her shoulder’s shake and hearing her breath hitch, he knew that she was crying again. He wished he could just wave his hand and strip her of it; restore her to who she was. But it didn’t work like that, for any of them.

  Loss was something they all had to bear in their own way, and he knew better than most the cost it exacted on one’s soul. Pushing the tent flap aside, he stepped out into the torch-lit shadows and went to see how the others were doing.

  II

  They were about to call it for the night. His mind and body felt completely exhausted. They had worked through the day, testing his abilities, finding out which areas to improve and which he’d already mastered. The proficiencies he displayed in weaponry caught him as off guard as much as it did his instructors. The only thing he could think of was the Test of the Soul, where he had welcomed Lancelot to join him and they had become one. Lancelot had told him that he would gain his skills in battle, but until he wielded those weapons and fought against imaginary foes; he didn’t realize the extent of what that meant for him. The only weapon he lacked any skill of using was a bow, and Gareth had laughed, suggesting he forgo ranged weapons and stick to close quarter combat instead.

  The magic part of the training had been the most exhausting. He had trouble discerning types of spells and how to get his body to react to them. It was a component of combat that he was unaccustomed to, in either life, and he had suffered many defeats before finally being able to make it through one session unscathed. It was an area they knew he’d still need practice at, but his mind was beginning to fog, and all agreed it’d be best to rest and start again tomorrow.

  Stepping from the building in the center of the training grounds, he found himself alone on the field with the exception of a lone elf waiting by the doorway outside. “How’s the training going?” Erik asked as he stepped forward and began walking with him along the path back to the knight’s housing.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard at anything. Even this new body I’ve been given is having trouble keeping up,” he motioned to the frame he was still learning to adapt too.

  Erik laughed. “Just takes time. You’ve been through a lot and it’s not like you’ve had any down time since you left Lancaster.”

  “Tell me about it,” he muttered, suddenly thinking of Willow and their baby. They hadn’t prepared for that at all, both being too wrapped up in getting ready for the oncoming battle that they fell into bed the night before, without a word exchanged. They were asleep before their heads struck pillow.

  “Don’t worry, Revan says they are making progress. Even he’s surprised by the level of skill Willow is capable of. I don’t think you have to worry about her not being able to take care of herself should she get caught up in the battle,” the King comforted and he wearily nodded that he’d heard; just too tired to comment much. “Speaking of which, I’ve been talking with Pendoran about how best to utilize your skills when the needs arise.”

  He managed a chuckle. “I’m sure that was a pleasant conversation.”

  The elf smiled in return. “Yeah, he didn’t like you much when you first got here. Thought you were a spoiled brat prince pretending to be a hero. But whatever you’ve been doing while he’s been training you has turned him around. He was actually bragging about you the last time we talked.”

  He thought of how hard Pendoran had been pushing him, the quick bursts of anger and occasional warranted scolding. “Kind of hard to believe.”

  “He can be a hard man, but he’s responsible for every life under his command and he doesn’t take that lightly. You should be honored that he goes after you so much. If he didn’t see potential, he would be dismissive and assign someone else to be your teacher,” Erik admonished, giving him a stern stare.

  He sighed and nodded with understanding.

  “Good. Now, as to his recommendations. He suggests, and I agree with him, that you ride as second command of the knights under Tar Reiz when the battle starts. His health is still not restored and we both doubt it will be when the time comes to engage in battle. He is confident that you will acquit yourself with honor and such a suggestion from him should not be dismissed lightly,” the King told him, leaving Tristan speechless.

  “First, he doubts that I even belong, now he wants me to help lead his men?” he managed after a moment, his mind trying to sort out everything the King said, trying to figure whether he should believe it or not.

  Erik grinned in response. “I told you, you have managed to impress him enough to admit he was wrong about you and now he’s recognizing what I saw when I first looked into your eyes; the devotion and courage of a great man on the horizon. He says he’s never seen anyone handle a weapon like you do and has told me that he’d put you in charge of the entire army if he didn’t feel you might be too green in a leadership role just yet. Let’s stop here a moment, there’s a few things I need to give you.”

  “Everybody has given me enough already,” he blurted, thinking of the sword hanging from his side and the armor his father had created for him. Erik was insistent however, and he followed him as the King approached one of the blacksmiths toiling nearby.

  “Is it ready?” Erik asked the elf lounging nearby. Sweat was pouring off the older elf and he could smell hot iron and ash upon the air.

  “Yes, my Lord,” the blacksmith answered as he disappeared into the back. Moments later he emerged with a long sword, shield, and a dark blue cloak that shimmered in the moonlight as if filled with diamonds. “Almer dropped this cloak off on his way to turn in for the night, figured I could pass it along for him.”

  “That’s fine,” Erik smiled at the elder man. Aged fingers whipped the cloak around and handed it over to the awaiting King. “This cloak is a symbol of your status in the knighthood and recognizes you as one of its commanders. Wear it into battle and your orders will be followed immediately and without question.”

  He took the offered cloak with a word of thanks, hands sliding over the Elvish material; his mind blown by how regal and beautiful it looked. He unfastened the cloak his father had given him and donned the new one in its place. Unwilling to just hand it over to the blacksmith to dispose of, he folded up his father’s cloak and stowed it under his left arm.

  A shield was handed to the King and Tristan’s breath caught. Emblazoned upon the heater shield were three crests. The centermost was the crest of the Knights of the Realm, a circular table with a tree carved into it, surrounded by various shields adorning family crests. Slightly shadowed on either side were the crests of Lancaster and Griedlok. The shade of the shield was light blue and the polished surface gleamed in the feeble light.

  “I had this commissioned shortly after you were knighted to remind you of your oath and the responsibilities that come with it. Be true to yourself and what you’ve sworn, and you will make an even better leader for those that follow you,” the King intoned, handing it over to him. He felt the weight of the shield and was surprised to find it as light as his armor was. “Constantine wasn’t the only one to find old relics from the past. The metal is scarce and rarely used, but I felt it was appropriate in this case.”

  “Thank you,” he offered feeling the emotional response within almost bring him to tears. He had been shunned his entire life and the amount of confidence and generosity he’d experienced since that moment he beheld Excalibur astonished and shocked him to the core.

  “Finally,” the King said, reaching over and taking the offered sword from the blacksmith. “I know it’s not Purity, for the magic that was used in its creation has long been forgotten by our kind, but I felt that a rebirth of sorts was in order and Revan kindly assisted in the forging of this blade. Pendoran has told me that while a shield woul
d do you some good, what you need is a secondary weapon. He feels that dual-wielding is your strongest asset and asked that I give you a blade worthy of your skills.”

  The handle of the sword before him was blue, just like the grip on Purity, but made of straps of leather with a silver pommel and guard. The scabbard was light blue as well with runes and designs intricately carved into it. Sliding the blade free, the Elvish King took a moment to study the craftsmanship and verify it was exactly as he had ordered, then with a smile, tipped it up so Tristan could appreciate it more fully.

  The crest of Lancaster was carved into the base of the sword and the blade had well-crafted runes and designs running up the blade to its tip. “What does it say?”

  “It’s Elvish for Justice,” Erik told him softly, and Tristan could no longer fight the tear that forced its way up over his eyelid and down his cheek. The elf watched him with compassionate eyes and saw the impact the gift was having upon him. “You sacrificed your father’s sword to return mine, and though I know it’s not the same, I hope you will accept this offering with my words of gratitude and everlasting friendship.”

  He could do nothing else but set the shield and cloak down and embrace the stunned King. It was not a typical response between two grown men, but it was the only way that he knew to express the gratitude he felt within.

  Erik chuckled and patted him on the back, then embraced him for a brief moment. “You truly have Lancelot’s heart, my boy. It is well placed.”

  “Thank you, my Lord,” he intoned automatically and the elf laughed again.

  “Even got a bit of his dogged courtesy as well. Oh well, there are worse traits to be burdened with,” Erik said with a smile. “As to whether or not it’s anything but a well-crafted blade, you will have to speak to Revan. I am ignorant in the ways of magic and he’s been too busy with your fiancé to speak to me since its creation. I doubt you have even had Purity inspected yet. Word of advice, see to that soon. It’s best to know what your weapon is capable of before taking it into battle, lest it surprise you as much as your foes and open you up to attack.”

  He nodded and took the offered blade. Strapping it around his waist, he felt whole once again. Then he bent over and picked up his shield and the weathered cloak and began following Erik as he set forth once more.

  “We are having dinner tonight. I’ve already extended an invitation to your fiancé. You should have Derek there get you out of that armor and into something less confining before you come,” the King nodded to Tristan’s rear.

  He glanced around in surprise and saw that his squire was only a couple of paces behind them. Where the devil had he come from? He hadn’t seen him since they arrived at the training grounds that morning.

  “May I take those?” Derek offered, motioning towards the shield and cloak.

  “Where did you come from?” he asked, unable to resist.

  Derek smiled. “A squire unnoticed is a squire doing his job, my Lord.”

  He shook his head in frustration, he didn’t like surprises or games. When he was having a conversation with someone, he wanted to be aware of all those that were present and not have to think on a squire skulking in the shadows.

  “Don’t mind the boy, he’s just eager to please is all. If he keeps working as hard as he has been, soon he’ll be knighted and have a squire of his own to keep in check,” Erik grinned at the youth, who blushed with the sudden praise.

  He handed over his father’s cloak, but refused to let go of the shield, garnering another chuckle from the Elven King by his side.

  “Come, the women will be awaiting our arrival and never leave a female elf hungry, lest you want to wake up and find your balls detached. Trust me, it’s happened,” the King chuckled, leaning over and smacking Tristan on the shoulder.

  He gulped. Willow would never—would she?

  Erik laughed harder. “We’ve got word from my scouts that Lancaster approaches from the south, you will be reunited with your brother by dusk tomorrow night. My kin are arriving from the east and the Seers have seen a friendly force marching in from the west. Looks like we’re about to have a full house and we’d better drink some of my ale before the stores are raided in celebration of their arrival.”

  His stomach fluttered at the thought of seeing his brother again. How would that end? Getting socked in the jaw or in a brotherly embrace? He nodded as the King broke away and headed towards the dining hall.

  With Derek at his side, he went to change out of his armor.

  Even though he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep, he knew that he needed to eat or he’d be even worse off in the morning. Besides, how could he deny the King, especially after the gifts he’d just been presented? He shook his head in wonder, would he ever prove himself worthy of their trust and confidence? Would anything he did ever be enough?

  Stepping through the door to his room, he let Derek shut the door and began fiddling with his armor straps; he had a feast to get too.

  III

  Revan walked from the palace to the gardens lying beyond. The walkways were made of stone, but the rest of the world around him was a vast display of multiple species of plants woven together into a tapestry of pure beauty. It had taken centuries to achieve and the Elves were nothing if not patient people. He walked along the path to the right and felt the presence of magic ahead near the base of an old willow tree.

  How fitting.

  Shirl was sitting next to Trek, the two of them having a heated conversation, and he coughed rudely to interrupt their debate. “I think it’s time you and I had a discussion.”

  “Excuse me?” the sprite responded, getting to her feet and taking flight. She came to hover right before him and Revan felt the large green eyes of the feline following after her.

  He glared at the sprite, letting his magic roll through him to increase the intensity of his presence. “You know damn well why I’m here. I don’t know what the two of you are up to with this Sprit Mother of yours, but what you just did to that young girl was unacceptable, no matter what your intentions are.”

  “I just did exactly what I was told,” Shirl answered with a sniff of indignation.

  “What you did was just tell a pregnant teenager that she has to kill herself in order to save the world! How dare you!” he raged. He had planned a more calmed approach, but that was out the window now.

  Shirl pursed her lips and shook her head. “All I did was tell her was that she was going to have to make a choice, her life or everyone else’s. What she does with that is up to her,” the sprite told him and actually tried to make it sound like it was just that simple.

  “That’s not a choice at all,” he told the tiny girl. “How could she choose anything else now? Did it ever occur to you that when that moment comes, it might have been something that had to be of free will and without coercion? How can she do that now that she knows what will happen if she refuses? And why her? She is pregnant, what of the baby?”

  “She does have a choice!” the sprite countered.

  He growled and the sprite fluttered her wings and flew a few feet backwards. “To what, let everyone she loves die around her? How can you expect her to say no?”

  Trek pawed his way closer and looked up at him. “I will not let anything happen to her. I took an oath to protect her and I will do that no matter what it takes.”

  “That’s nice and all, but that doesn’t change anything, does it? How can you save her from what lies ahead?” Revan asked in turn, not taking his eyes from the fluttering sprite.

  “By making sure it doesn’t come to that,” Trek answered seriously, green eyes boring into him. “If we anticipate what starts it, then maybe we can stop whatever it is before it happens.”

  That gave the druid pause; he hadn’t considered that. “Do you know what we’re looking for?” Was there possibly a way to save Willow and her baby after all?

  Trek looked to Shirl, his tongue lapping over his teeth. “That’s what we were just discussing. She
claims not to know.”

  “You mean you don’t actually know what it is Willow is supposed to save us from? What kind of crap is that?” Revan thundered, taking a step towards the hovering sprite.

  “Look,” the tiny girl began, then paused as if trying to figure out how to continue. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I didn’t even want to come. I have lived in the forest my entire life, spending most of it on my own or in the company of just the Spirit Mother. I don’t have any—”

  “Social skills?” Revan ventured and the little girl nodded.

  She was wringing her hands now, her face full of remorse, and for a brief moment his anger slipped a notch. “She warned me that I wouldn’t be ready for this; she was right. I could have handled it better. I just didn’t know how.”

  He saw then what he was really looking at, a scared little girl far from home. Now he knew why she was out here hiding in the gardens. “You want to make it up to her?” Two tiny eyes rose to meet his and he saw the subtle nod of her head. “Help me stop whatever this is in its tracks, give her a chance to not have to make this horrible decision, and assure that she lives a long and fruitful life with her man and their baby.”

  “How do we do that?” the sprite asked after a moment, her voice shrill and tinged with hope.

  “Start at the beginning, tell me everything you know.”

  Chapter 10

  Reunion

  I

  Tristan stood on the steps of the palace, armor polished, his new shield strapped to his arm. His helm had been left in the room, as it was for the rest of the assembled knights on the steps and grounds before him. They were standing in formation on either side and there was a clear path for the returning knights to ride to the palace steps, then turn right towards the Knight’s Hall beyond.