Phoenix Rising (the New Age Saga Book 3)

by Timothy A. Ray

  II

  “Sire,” Jarel greeted as he entered the palace. Revan was hanging out nearby and he knew the druid had been waiting for him as well.

  “What is it?” he asked the aide, motioning for the druid to accompany him.

  The elf fidgeted and that drew the King’s gaze to his nervous aide. “Sire, Haymdal was found murdered just a short while ago. One of the sentries caught Larahredhel emerging from the room, a recently wiped dagger concealed within her bodice.”

  The King sighed. He hadn’t gotten around to dealing with the politician and seer yet, and now his reluctance to unwind what his past life had wrought was carried through to fruition due to his inaction. “Is there any doubt that she did the deed?” he asked the aide, suddenly mournful over the older elf’s death. He had been a worthy adversary and deserved a better fate than the one he’d been dealt.

  “None, Sire,” the aide responded immediately and without hesitation.

  “Have her executed. Her traitorous deeds cannot be allowed to spread any further than they already have, our time is too short for anything else,” he ordered after a moment’s consideration.

  “Yes, Sire,” the aide bowed, then rushed to see it done.

  Revan stepped to his side. “Is that wise? The seers will not like their chief representative killed without the benefit of a trial.”

  “Then let them try to explain her actions, either way, we cannot afford to wait. The people will be seeking blood for the death of their representative as well, and I’d rather piss off one small group rather than the entire Elven Nation housed within these walls,” he told the magister, shaking his head with regret. He should’ve acted sooner, had her arrested or interrogated her himself. That it had come to this—

  “There is another matter that is of some concern,” Revan told him as they continued on.

  He sighed, of course there was; there was always something.

  “There’s been a lot of harsh words and threats of actions against the presence of the orcs outside these walls,” the druid told him and that made Erik’s anger begin to rise.

  “Those orcs broke free of their bonds of slavery, slew their masters, and willingly came here to help defend us against the Phoenix’s forces, and they would have me do what? Tell them to go home? And where is that exactly? They will be murdered the moment they step a foot into the Deadlands now,” he raged, unable to give voice to the real fury within his soul.

  His daughter had been taken from him and he more than anyone else had a reason to hate them for what they were and represented. Yet he saw an opportunity here, one that he would not waste on past prejudices or unwarranted hatred. If one group of orcs could be freed, why not another? What would happen if the Phoenix’s own armies rose up against her? It was too tempting a thought to just dismiss out of hand.

  “Make sure that it’s known that anyone caught raising a hand against the orcs will be thrown in the stockades and tried for treason. They are our guest and will be treated as such,” he told the magister, his voice firm and resolved. “Speaking of orcs, have you made the arrangements as I have suggested?”

  Revan paused as he chanced a wary glance at his King. “I have. You have to know that this might just make things worse.”

  “Or better,” he replied back. “What he did for us cannot go unrecognized. We have rewarded the ranger, the newly wed prince and princess, and the other members of their group should be compensated as well. I am standing here before you right now because of their actions to save me, and I am honor bound to see them rewarded for their efforts.”

  The druid chuckled. “That worked well with that black armored companion of theirs, didn’t it?”

  “You’re speaking of Reyna?” he asked, even though he knew full well who the druid meant. They were names that should be remembered, not spoken of as if in an offhand way. She had lost her brother during the quest to retrieve Excalibur, and though the others had suffered as well, hers had been the one most dear.

  Earlier that morning she had been offered a place in the Knights of the Realm and had declined the offer without hesitation. Surprised, he had inquired as to why, and she had tartly responded that she would not make an oath she couldn’t keep. Humility, sacrifice, these were not her ways. She was not pure, and the one emotion she did harbor was vengeance for the death of her brother; which she intended to carry out against the Phoenix without delay. It was unbefitting of a knight and she had owned it quite vocally.

  She had, however, delighted over the armory he left at her disposal and when he had left her, he felt a shiver run up his spine. He had quietly thanked the Gods that she was on their side.

  “King Storvirk has asked to join you for dinner, I think his men are beginning to run low on ale,” the druid told him with a quick laugh.

  The King of Alamar had politely refused his offers at staying within the palace, stating that his place was among his men, and had yet to set a foot within the castle walls. He might have taken it personally if he hadn’t been just grateful for their presence. That he wanted to join him now was a bold statement of the King’s independence and he nodded his head with a smile. Whatever it took to keep them happy, he had a feeling they would earn the ale they consumed soon enough.

  “You should know that the dwarf declined your offer as well. He stated that he was an outcast of the Dwarven Nation and it wouldn’t do you any favors to knight him into the brotherhood. He asked for a couple of barrels of Grog and a few pouches of tobacco instead,” the magister informed him and Erik smirked.

  Now that sounded just like a Dwarven response.

  Revan eyed him for a moment, then looked away as he spoke. “Where’s Merlin gotten off too?”

  He let it hang in the air for a moment, then reluctantly sighed. “He declined a room in the palace, asking instead for one of the abandoned cottages behind the castle in order to meditate and prepare for what’s coming our way. He assured me he’d be on hand when needed and I had no choice but to grant his request.”

  “You let him go out there unprotected?” Revan blurted out with shock.

  He chuckled, “I don’t think it’s him that needs protection, but anyone that decides to intrude upon his chosen solitude. Let him be for now. He will be here when we need him.”

  The druid slowly nodded his head as they walked into the knight’s hall and looked upon the towering orc waiting for them at the base of the steps.

  The warrior bowed his head as the King approached. He quickly held out his hand and took the massive palm into his own. Red eyes met his and for the first time in his life, he stood before an orc bereft of a weapon and with no concern for the safety of himself or those around him.

  “Have you accepted what I have offered you?” he asked the behemoth. They’d had words before he had gone to meet with the ranger and he saw the slight nod of the orc’s head. “Good. I hope you know how rare an honor this is, and that you will hopefully be the first of many in the years ahead as we work together to free your people.”

  “Kore know Elves need free Orcs. For Orcs, Kore accept,” the giant man responded in his broken common tongue and he saw great pride in how the man held himself. Apparently, he’d been named the commander of the orc forces camped without, and he now held himself to a higher standard in recognition of the loyalty shown him.

  “Spend tonight in silent prayer before the altar of the Gods. Tomorrow you will rise a Knight of the Realm and a member of our brotherhood,” he told the orc proudly, clapping the man on the shoulder.

  He could see the warning glance in Revan’s eyes, but he ignored it. He would do this out of merit—racial threats of violence be damned.

  Kore bowed his head in response and turned to head in the direction of the chapel.

  “What did Pendoran think about this?” the druid asked as the warrior disappeared from sight.

  “He was less vocal than he was over Tristan’s knighting. He recognizes a seasoned fighter when he sees one and understands the risks we must take
in order to triumph against our enemies,” he responded with a grin.

  “In other words, you told him that this is how it was going to be and get behind it or you’ll have him cleaning the latrines again?” Revan asked with a grin.

  He grunted. “Yeah, something like that.”

  The druid burst into laughter as they exited the hall and headed towards the palace. “You know, I sure hope you know what you’re doing. You’re beating a hornet’s nest with a stick. Are you sure you won’t get stung by what flies out?”

  “War is about strategy and risk; you can’t win without a good measure of both. No, I have made the right decision. If anyone else has a problem with that, let them voice it when the hordes arrive. I’ll like to hear what they have to say then,” he told the druid as he stepped out of the hall and into the path beyond.

  It was time to see his wife and greet the King of Alamar; this was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 13

  Morgan

  I

  Kylee stood in the armory admiring the elven made weapons and armor with greedy eyes. Swords, daggers, platemail, and leather; the room had everything that a warrior would need to become an unstoppable juggernaut on the battlefield.

  She bypassed the quivers, the one that Merlin had given her was too valuable to replace. Her eyes drifted to a set of composite longbows fixed to the wall and her eyes ran along their elegant lengths with a studious eye. They looked sturdy, efficient, and the runes that ran along the limbs were subtle; making them appear as a natural part of the wood.

  She reached out and lifted one free of the hooks holding it into place. She twisted it slowly, admiring the curvature. Her fingers automatically reached out for the chord and drew it back, testing its resistance. It felt natural within her hands, more at home than the human made bow she was currently using. Flexing her arms, she purposely bent it further back and listened to the silent groan of the wood.

  It was perfect.

  “Looks good on you,” a voice spoke up from behind. She twisted and aimed the bow at the newcomer, temporarily forgetting that she didn’t have an arrow notched in it. An elf stood just inside the doorway, leaning on the door jamb and propping the door open with his foot. He had a smirk on his face and she felt his eyes slowly running down her frame.

  “Something interest you?” she snarked.

  “You have no idea,” the man replied, releasing the door and entering the armory to greet her.

  She wanted to wipe that sneer off his face. Why was he looking at her that way? She grunted and looked away. Letting loose the chord, she carried the bow in her left hand as she began to make her way to the leather armor arrayed to her right. “Better be talking about the bow.”

  The elf snickered.

  Fingers gently ran over a set of black leather armor, the tips of her forefinger sliding over the black studs covering the pauldrons. Gripping the leather tightly and bending it, she could see that it was of a finer make than what she was currently using, but she didn’t know how she would feel breaking in new armor right before a battle. She’d have very little time to loosen the leather up, to test how restrictive it’d make her shots, and temporarily thought of just sticking to what she already had.

  “You won’t find better anywhere else,” the elf spoke softly just beside her ear, and she startled. How’d he sneak up on her that fast? Her guard had been up since he had entered and she hadn’t heard a sound.

  “Is there something you want from me?” she asked, purposely keeping her gaze forward and slowing her breathing. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d caught her off guard.

  After another snicker, she knew that she’d already failed at masking that.

  “Not really. I was with the envoy announcing Earhen’s arrival and thought I’d check out what Erik’s been stockpiling in here; get to it before my kinsman do,” he answered as he slid past and began looking at the chainmail.

  The elf was tall with tan skin, long ears, and bright green eyes. He already wore black chainmail armor and there were two thin swords strapped to his back. Long knives were strapped just below his hips on both legs and the belt around his waist had hilts for at least two dozen throwing knives. Two weapons she’d never seen before were strapped on his chest and she was sure she saw the hilt of a knife protruding through his pants behind his right ankle. This man was armored for war.

  He caught her impressed look and she turned away, blood rushing to her cheeks. The thudding of her heartbeat pounding against her rib cage startled her, what was wrong? Was she coming down sick?

  “Doesn’t look like you need any more weapons,” she offered after a moment, her attention now drawn to a set of beautifully made long knives. She hefted one experimentally and found it well balanced, the hilt felt like it had been made specifically for her hand.

  Gathering a pair, she set it on top of the black leather armor and slid the bow underneath. Her hands snaked out and began pocketing arrow tips as well.

  A laugh erupted near her right elbow. “Why don’t you let me give you a hand with that?”

  She shrugged off his reaching hand and turned to glare at him. She found herself struggling for a rebuttal, but it died in her throat as she looked into his eyes. There was something there, calling to her, and she quickly took a step aside, diverting her gaze away.

  “Seriously, let me help or make another trip, otherwise you’re going to be fumbling all the way to your chambers. Have you figured out how to get the door open yet?” the elf asked her and she inadvertently glanced that way, then down at her overloaded hands.

  Sighing, she let him take the armor and the knives, a grunt involuntarily sneaking out. “Thank you,” she managed after a moment.

  The warrior bowed his head and grinned wider. “Don’t mention it,” he smirked. “Or if you do, try not to make it out like I’m one of your servants. Though, if you want me to go back to your room, you can definitively—”

  The look she shot him shut him up.

  She finished picking through the arrow tips and stepped towards the door, securing them in one of the pouches around her waist. “Not getting anything for yourself?”

  “They don’t have any charcoal or sulfur, I’ll check with the blacksmiths after I help you back to your room,” the warrior answered casually.

  She wanted to ask what he would need that for, but instead she walked quickly towards the door and snapped it open. It was best not to get caught up in a conversation with the man; her nerves were already firing; her stomach uneasy.

  As she led him down one of the palace hallways, he whistled softly behind her. “In the palace huh? What are you, an elven princess? Because honey, you don’t look like one.”

  “Call me honey again, I’ll show you how unlike a princess I truly am,” she snarled, her anger getting the best of her. The voice was melodic and she hated the rebellion she felt in her mind to his presence. She was craving more of it and didn’t know why.

  He chuckled. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

  She was at her door and she flung it open, setting the items she carried just inside the door. Turning briskly, she snatched up her new armor and weapons from the elf, causing the man to grin even wider. “Thank you for your assistance, but I can take it from here.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “You live up to your reputation ranger. I’m going to one of the nearby taverns, the Five Oaks. Let me buy you a drink.”

  Even though every bone in her body told her to take him up on it, she resisted violently. She could hear the shrike waiting impatiently for her on the balcony and there was no way she was going to let this man in her chambers with her emotions so out of her control. Who knew what might happen then?

  Then again, not even she had any clue. She had never been intimate with anyone, much less someone that she’d only first met in passing. There had never been time and she didn’t like to be pinned down. Constantly on the move; her love life had been non-existent and a p
urposely avoided part of her life.

  “Ah, I can see by your expression that you’re going to pass. That’s too bad. I’m too much of a loner to know anyone else to pass the time with, and I just thought, with you being a loner too, that maybe we would have something to talk about,” he explained.

  As she looked into his face once more, she could see the sincerity behind his words. She sighed. “I need to attend to my companion really fast, then I’ll be out,” she countered, reluctantly giving in. She just couldn’t seem to help it, and had no clue what was happening to her.

  “Companion?” he asked curiously. “Wait, I don’t want to step on any toes here.”

  She eyed him suspiciously, not believing it for a moment, then she slowly slid the door open and allowed him a view into the room. From the doorway, he could see through the open balcony doors the roost beyond, and his mouth dropped at the sight of the massive bird glaring at him.

  “Oh. Right,” he stammered. Looked like they were even. He had startled her, now he was at a loss for words.

  “Let me make sure he has everything he needs and then I’ll be right back,” she told the elf, the anger leeching away as she slowly gave into her baser instincts.

  He turned his eyes towards her and once more found them enveloping her entire train of thought; making her focus only on him. She visibly shook her head in an attempt to clear and shut the door on his slick smile.

  “Shit,” she cursed. What was she getting herself into now?

  II

  Kylee awoke at dawn, her pounding head not allowing her to sleep any longer. Her stomach felt like emptying itself yet again. She had vague memories of hunching over a chamber-pot and her throat felt raw as she cleared it in an attempt to groan. Her hand fell on her forehead and her fingers worked at the throbbing blood vessel, trying to get it to loosen up.