Misanthropy (Born of the Phoenix Book 2)

by David Murray Forrester

  A sparse fog, lingering amongst the trees appeared to part for Kelaire as she ventured further into the forest. She glanced back towards camp, the light of the bonfire was but a candle flame. Still, the whispering voices alluded her. No manner of steps brought her closer, the puzzle was both bemusing and maddening. An outcrop of stone covered in moss stood at shoulder height. Leaping upon it, Kelaire surveyed the forest, the darkness impenetrable. She glanced back to camp a final time, assuring herself none had followed. Her blue locks grew in length, curling majestically with each inch and her eyes began glowing a soft violet as she released a touch of her wraith abilities.

  Otherworldly auras became known to her. A secret plane kept hidden from the eyes of mortals. “Let’s see you hide from me now,” she whispered. The spirits could not keep their secrets for long.

  Kelaire sensed an unholy, foreboding aura leeching into the forest. An intense will of malice, ensnared, raging in captivity. It was compelling. Kelaire felt drawn to it and strutted along her path with the arrogance of a wraith. Pairs of woodland eyes were upon her, watching from the darkness. Kelaire cared not, what foolish beast would dare assault her, she, a self-proclaimed goddess of the night.

  As Kelaire stood before an ancient tree whose mighty trunk was as wide as a castle tower, a veiled sigil revealed itself to her. It responded to the magic resonating from her hand as she touched it. An enchanted door appeared on one of the trees unnaturally large roots. Opening itself to her, a tunnel beyond became illuminated by torches alight with purple flames. A path led deep underground, dug harshly into both soil and root, as though a horrid beast had tunnelled its way into the depths. The ghostly whispering echoed from the passage. Kelaire entered.

  The path led down into a vast domed chamber. Hundreds of bleached skulls belonging to both man and beast sat inside alcoves which lined the walls. Kelaire walked slowly, basking in the haunting ambience of the chamber. Many of the bestial skulls were unknown to her. She wasn’t certain if the skulls were from shorku, or demons, for they were truly grotesque. In the centre of the floor was a circular pit. Standing at its edge, Kelaire saw countless skeletal corpses, each hunched over with an ornate dagger impaled in their chest, driven there by their own hand in sacrifice. An onyx pedestal stood in the centre of the pit and resting atop it in grand splendour was a sparkling black crystal sphere.

  The magical flames of the torches danced upon the crystal’s surface. Kelaire circled the pit, eyeing the crystal with great interest. What was the meaning of it all? The skulls, the corpses, the alluring crystal. Kelaire could make sense of none of it, though, she guessed the ghostly voices belonged to the damned souls bound here by means of their own hand.

  Unleashing her ivory wings, she descended gracefully to the floor of the pit.

  “Which deity did you sacrifice yourself to, I wonder?” She said, leaning over one of the corpses. The cruel design of the dagger and the runes engraved upon the blade were unfamiliar to her.

  Kelaire stood, twisting her hair between her fingers as she inspected the crystal sphere. It was flawless, magnificent. She wanted it, but, should she take it?

  Desire gnawed at her. She was, after all, a wraith. What harm could befall her for stealing an artefact from a cult with no remaining members. None that she knew about, anyway. None here to stop her. Smiling, she removed the sphere from its stand. In her hand, the crystal appeared immensely beautiful.

  An awful howling bellowed within the chamber as ghostly forms rose from the corpses at Kelaire’s feet. Dozens of apparitions manifested around her. Enraged, they sought to bring her flesh to ruin.

  Kelaire’s enchanted rapier tore apart the ethereal bodies of the ghosts, casting their spirits back into the void. Their assault brief and futile. “Cultists,” she smirked. “Pathetic.”

  The ghostly voices fell silent, only the crumbling of bones underfoot could be heard within the chamber. With her prize claimed, Kelaire departed, ascending the gnarled passage back into the forest.

  Rising from the beneath the ground within the chamber, an otherworldly phantom took shape, awakening from a prolonged slumber. Twisted and monstrous, its malformed head turned its gaze towards the dark passage.

  Freshly sharpened, the spear blade glistened. Oliver shrugged off a yawn, sentinel duty was a mundane task. Kelaire appeared unexpectedly from the darkness of the forest.

  “What were you doing out there?” He stepped towards her. “No-one’s supposed to leave camp.”

  “That’s not really your concern,” she said, walking past him.

  “Hang on! The queen gave specific orders that -”

  “Look Oliver,” She said, stopping to speak with him. “If you think I’m going to squat over a latrine that reeks of men’s piss then you’re kidding yourself. I just wanted somewhere a bit nicer to relieve myself, is that alright?”

  It was understandable. The latrines were quite foul. “That’s fair enough. Just let me know next time so if you don’t come back I can go looking for you. It’s not safe. We don’t know what beasts might be lurking out there.”

  “Thank you, Oliver.” She placed her hand upon his shoulder. “I hope your watch passes quickly.”

  “Sleep well, Kelaire.”

  Chapter 7

  Leather-bound grimoires lined the dusty shelves in Matearla’s chamber. The ancient books decorated with ornate arcane sigils, pages within inked with spells, incantations and ritual ceremonies. Scrolls were heaped in untidy bundles. Crystals and flasks along with a variety of rare ingredients for spell craft were placed orderly and neatly on desks surrounding a cauldron. From an emerald carafe Matearla poured herself a glass of red wine as she surveyed the treasures and trinkets amassed in her chamber. After all these years her collection was quite impressive. In relocating to Lake Coloth Matearla would have to leave the vast majority of it behind. Deciding what to bring and what to abandon was going to be a difficult and woeful task. Most of the rare artefacts held sentimental value, for acquiring them had come with the adventure of exploring ancient ruins or been purchased from antiquarians at a heavy cost.

  Brashly, Gerod pushed aside the wooden door and stormed into Matearla’s chamber. “The Baron demands your presence in the Hall of Penance. He is most displeased that you did not seek him out upon your return.” His uniform was different from when Matearla last saw him. It was of overly militant design. The Scarlet Blades emblem on his chest had been replaced with a sword, choked with vines.

  “Tell Nade I’ll be along shortly,” she said and sipped on her wine.

  “He demands your audience now, Matearla.”

  Placing her glass down, Matearla traced her finger along the rim as she pondered her decision. Nade, an impatient man and quick to anger. It would be best to see him now and get it over and done with so she could concentrate on her own tasks. “Best not keep him waiting, then.”

  As Matearla followed Gerod, she noticed the ruined monastery had a different aura about it. The grim atmosphere and haunting presence of the monk’s ghosts who had lingered within the ruins was lifted, shadows replaced with light. It felt as though the stronghold had been sanctified. Much had changed during her absence.

  “What’s with the new emblem? Is Nade reshaping the Scarlet Blades?” asked Matearla as they passed a high wall which had been covered in metal lattice. Round pots sat at the base of the lattice. Sapling vines knitted their delicate arms around the lattice as they began their ascent of domination.

  “With the rise of the Surangi, the Baron has decided to forge new alliances with some very powerful people.”

  “And who are these very powerful people?” Matearla found it amusing. Nade boasted so often that he didn’t need allies. Extending his hand must have felt like defeat. It didn’t matter who Nade forged alliances with, his rule over the Engalian black market and slave trade was ended. His strongest mercenary force had already suffered a harrowing defeat at the hands of the Surangi’s Arcane Knights. The Baron would be better off cutting his losses and
relocating his empire of illicit ventures to another kingdom such as Vaneshia or Cortania. It would be foolish to underestimate the power of the Surangi, after all, Brackish, their lord is a demigod.

  “I’ll let the Baron discuss that with you.” Gerod ascended the stairs leading into the Hall of Penance. Graciously, he gestured Matearla to enter and closed the door softly once she stepped inside, leaving her alone with the Baron who stood at the head of a table on which sat a large map of Sapphiron.

  Baron Nade’s thoughts were engrossed in tactics and schemes. Wooden tokens of castles and armies were placed in strategic locations across the sprawling map. “Considering everything that’s happening at the moment,” he said, raising his head. “I’m surprised it took you so long to return.”

  “I was detained.”

  “Detained? Probably with some petty nonsense regarding the little magic trinkets you’re always trying to procure. You don’t have time to waste on such luxuries at the moment. I have new a task for you.” He stepped towards a side table, lifting a jug of spiced wine. “A drink?”

  “Yes, thanks,” Matearla nodded.

  “There are many matters to discuss,” he filled two silver chalices with the pungent beverage. “But first, tell me about your last target, the one who slayed our men at Menark. Akella Terrifos. Did she turn out to be a witch?”

  “I didn’t find her.”

  Nade’s shoulder’s stiffened.

  “I lost her trail at Belderra after I fought with Kuungroth, a gluttonous reaver.”

  “You failed? So, the woman who destroyed my garrison is still parading around Engalia?”

  “I wouldn’t say she is parading-”

  “Not parading!” His voice filled the hall. “This woman is walking around gloating in her victory over MY soldiers! I will not have it! I want her dead!”

  From behind a decorated pillar stepped a man adorned in the cloak of a wizard. He approached Baron Nade who handed him the chalice of wine which he had poured for Matearla. The wizard leant against the table with a devious grin as he swirled the wine within the chalice.

  “My wine,” Matearla said, holding out her hand.

  Brazenly, Vanheek drank from the chalice. “It’s interesting to hear you claim that you were unable find Akella Terrifos. Why, my spies have reports that she was in Belderra at the same time you were there.”

  The allegation made Nade stir, his face twisting with suspicion. Matearla glared at the wizard. He knew too much, but how? The markings on his cloth were unknown to her which was a surprise, for she knew all the noteworthy wizarding councils and sects across Sapphiron. Perhaps he was from a newly established group? The fact that an unknown wizard had an established network spies across the land was puzzling, or was he shadowing her? Does the naive fool have aspirations to supplant her?

  “In fact,” said Vanheek, stepping towards her. “I also have a report that you left Belderra in Akella’s company.”

  “Treason!” Roared Nade. “Is this true, Matearla? Have you been conspiring with the enemy?”

  Matearla did not speak.

  “Baron Nade, My Lord. You told me that it was a witch who destroyed the garrison in Menark,” said the wizard, spinning his web to ensnare Matearla in truths she could not deny.

  “Yes, we had information that it was a witch.”

  “It’s interesting, wouldn’t you say, that Matearla is a supreme yet she has no followers. Rules over no coven. You’d think a witch with power as mighty as hers would have greater desires than to merely follow someone else’s ambition.” The wizard placed his hands together. Yes, this was coming along perfectly. “If I’m not mistaken, she murdered her former supreme, Madam Flurandre once Matearla had learnt all her secrets and found the witch to be of no further use. Matearla has traitor’s blood. She’s not someone we should have around.”

  Her reputation disgraced, Vanheek was forcing Matearla’s hand.

  “Gerod!” The wizard called for the warrior servant. Obediently, he answered the summons and upon entering the hall, Gerod stood behind Matearla.

  “Yes, My Lord?”

  “What was Matearla doing when you went to fetch her?” Vanheek asked, knowing the answer would tighten the noose.

  “It looked like she was beginning to pack for a journey.”

  Vanheek grinned. “Can you blame her? Matearla’s deception is worse than you fear, My Lord Nade. She was hoping to escape with her treasures before you caught wind of her subversion. Akella Terrifos is not a witch. She is an Arcane Knight of the Surangi. Matearla means to betray us to our most powerful enemy!”

  “Partial truths,” Matearla said. “Yes, I was with Akella and yes, I’m packing to leave because you are no longer worthy of my talent.”

  “You dare speak to me in such a manner, Matearla.” For years Matearla had been Nade’s most trusted ally. The revelation of her falsehood ignited intense rage within him.

  As Vanheek went to speak Matearla raised her hand to silence him. “You say another word and I’ll kill you, little wizard man. Nade, I am leaving,” she said, staring down her former master. “I’ve come to realise the true vastness of the world. I no longer care for your petty bickering with rivals and the trivial squabbles over land and gold. I suggest you allow me to continue my work unhindered, unless you want me to put you in your grave.”

  Another wizard appeared behind Nade. Matearla hadn’t noticed him enter the hall. His attire was regal, black and grey robes with white ribbons distinguishing him as a member of the Stone Maulers, a sect obsessed with the creation of stone golems. “And what makes you think I’d allow you to do that?”

  “Well, well,” said Matearla. “Archmage Kendrick. What’s a man of your reputation doing mingling with unscrupulous warlords like Baron Nade? Have the great maulers decided to finish playing in the dirt with rocks?”

  “The Surangi have engulfed Engalia like a plague,” he stood by the table looking over the totems placed upon the map. “That plague will spread. What information can you tell us about them?”

  “I don’t know anything about the Surangi. Nor would I tell you if I did.” So, Nade’s plan was to form an alliance with the rock men was it? How sad. ‘If Kendrick thinks he’s going to interrogate me, he’s got another thing coming.’

  “Matearla, you spent time with Akella,” said Nade. “Don’t expect us to believe that you don’t know anything about the Surangi.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Baron,” Kendrick moved away from the table, his long grey staff tipped with an iridescent crystal sphere. “If she won’t talk willingly, there are other ways to extract the information.”

  “Cretins! Have you forgotten who I am!” Magic erupted from Matearla’s hands as she unleashed a frightening hex curse, engulfing both Kendrick and Vanheek.

  Baron Nade ducked behind the table, sheltering himself from the powerful sorcery. The wizards fought back, countering the spell. The trio battled fiercely for magical supremacy. Despite the disadvantage of being outnumbered, Matearla easily held her own against the two opponents. Each time one of their spells began to overwhelm her, Matearla was able to draw forth even greater power, putting the pressure on them to either match the intensity of the spell, or be utterly destroyed.

  As the battle raged on, it became obvious that the wizards combined power was not enough to overwhelm Matearla. Vanheek, exhausted from the strain, began to falter. Confounded, Kendrick couldn’t understand why he, an Archmage of the Stone Maulers, was unable to defeat a mere witch. Sensing their frailty, Matearla pressed her advantage, unleashing a torrent of ever amassing magic.

  The knife blade pierced her lower spine. Gerod seized Matearla’s neck, keeping her upright as he repeatedly drove the short blade into her back until he was satisfied he had inflicted mortal wounds.

  Vanheek collapsed to his knees, his mana utterly spent. Kendrick stood bemused, watching his red-faced ally pant. Kendrick had overestimated the wizard’s abilities. Vanheek was no Master Sorcerer as he had proclaimed hims
elf. Matearla on the other hand, he had underestimated. It was his first confrontation with a supreme witch and the battle had been most eye-opening. The essence of her magic stemmed from sources vastly different from the spells he had spent his life studying. The thought of what knowledge and secrets he could harvest from the scrolls and treasures in Matearla’s chamber intrigued him.

  Helpless, laying in a pool of blood, Matearla lost all sensation in her limbs. She stared up at Baron Nade and Kendrick as they stood over her bleeding body. Too weak form her final words, a rasp of air escaped her lips. Colours faded to grey preceding eternal darkness.

  Chapter 8

  Leaning against the weathered stone, Ravage peered inside the cave entrance while Patsy constructed a makeshift torch out of cloth, wood and oil. Once ignited, the women entered the narrow passage formed of misshapen rocks with low ceilings. Sabella and Hobson remained on the hill side, laying in the long grass.

  Moisture hung in the air. The ground, a dense layer of damp pebbles which crunched underfoot. Moss flourished, carpeting the stone, the bright green plants thrived in the moist conditions. Water trickled from fractures in the walls and flowed over the moss before forming shallow pools in age-worn grooves in the stone.

  The passage led into a gaping cavern which spiralled down into darkness. Holding the torch aloft, Patsy could not see the bottom.

  “What do you think, Ravage?” Patsy stared down into the abyss. Rising cold air made her shudder. “Should we head down?”

  For a cave, Ravage found the air to be quite fresh. The echo of running water resonated from below. She could sense an essence of purity, as though the cave had not been tainted by the presence of foul beasts. “This cave has a nice feel to it. Can you sense it?”

  Patsy stood silent for a moment, absorbing the cave’s serenity. “It does feel quite peaceful in here, doesn’t it?”