Misanthropy (Born of the Phoenix Book 2)

by David Murray Forrester

  “Looks like we have our army.” Kasbin had entered Zoe’s chamber weighed down with chains of dread. Chains, which had been shred away with the light of hope. “I’ll begin making preparations to find Tairrie, then.”

  “I’m glad you’re with us, Kasbin.”

  “My Lady,” Kasbin bowed humbly, then left her chamber.

  Grunting with effort, Isabella and Ruby heaved the final chest of gold into the wagon. Both women glad to have the task completed. Isabella stood back, breathing deeply the chill morning air. A pair of sparrows flew overhead.

  “So much gold,” Ruby said with a loud sigh, placing her hands upon her hips.

  “There’s plenty more where that came from.” It was Isabella who had unearthed King Pradosse’s hoard. The former king’s greed had been insatiable, stockpiling large caches of gold in secret chambers underneath the Tower of Analetta. Gold, Zoe declared would be used to rebuild Lorewell.

  “I hope the Men of Dawn are worth it.” Eleven chests. Ruby considered it to be quite an extravagant amount for one mercenary company.

  “Morning,” said Urijah, approaching the pair. His hair was greying yet the vigour of youth remained in his eyes. Body fit and strong from years of arduous labour at the forge. “Here’s your sword, Ruby. Finished it last night.”

  “Thanks,” she said, taking the sheathed blade. Immediately, Ruby was impressed by the feel of the hilt. The sound of the matt blade exiting the scabbard was a clear indication that the sword’s edge had been honed to perfection. “Is this dempt?”

  “You have a good eye,” Urijah nodded.

  “I’ve always wanted a dempt blade,” and suddenly, she felt reluctant to accept such a fine weapon. Urijah had offered to forge a sword for each warrior in Zoe’s inner circle, asking for nothing in return. It was too generous an offer.

  “Your longsword should be ready when you return, Isabella. I was hoping to have them both finished at the same time, but since you wanted a longer blade length, it took me awhile to get the balance just right.”

  “That’s alright, Urijah. My training with Danyor is going slower than I expected. I didn’t think adding an extra foot would make so much of a difference.” Isabella thought about her previous sparing session with Danyor. Her movements were clumsy, attacks riddled with openings which the veteran smith took full advantage of, making Isabella feel like a total novice. “How is Danyor doing this morning?”

  “He’s good, I’d say. Went for his morning run as always.” Danyor had commented on Isabella’s swordsmanship, telling Urijah she possessed great potential. “He enjoys your sparring sessions,” said Urijah, to which Isabella’s face lit up. “And remember, your sword will be lighter than the training sword, so you should be able to move faster with it.”

  “I think it’s more my distancing and footwork that I need to work on, rather than the sword’s weight. I move a lot slower with the longer blade.” It was a hard fact to admit, even to herself. Her pride demanded perfection. Isabella, resolved to master the weapon, promised to devote herself to a vigorous, intense training regimen.

  “You’ll be right after some more training,” his smile was reassuring.

  Dealia arrived from the stables with horses, each freshly brushed and saddled with traditional Larrosan riding trappings. “Urijah,” nodded Dealia.

  “Morning, Dealia.” With her tall height and dark purple hair, Dealia possessed a resemblance to his daughter, Ravage, who he had not seen since she left home with her friend Patsy several years ago. Seeing his daughter in the proud warrior, he favoured Dealia above the others.

  “That’s all the gold then, is it?” Dealia brushed the horse’s cheek she was leading. The horses in tow glanced around, some lowered their heads to chew grass.

  “Yeah. It’s all loaded.” Ruby gazed at the horses, magnificent creatures.

  “Excellent.” These were her first official orders from Zoe. Dealia wanted everything to run like clockwork. “Ruby, go and fetch the others. We’ll be leaving shortly.”

  “Sure thing.” The barracks were close and there was a chance for Ruby to sneak in a last glass of juice before leaving. “Thanks again for the sword, Urijah.”

  “Hope you like it,” he waved.

  “Isabella, give me a handing hitching these horses to the wagon, would you?”

  “No problem.”

  “Can I do anything to help, Dealia?” A man of action, Urijah didn’t want to stand around watching while the women did all the work.

  “No, we’re right,” she said. “Which reminds me though, Zoe wants to have a word with you.” Voices came from the Tower of Analetta. Deep in conversation, Zoe and Delrawk emerged with Kasbin and Griz’mar close behind. “Oh, here she is now. Just hang around for a while. I’ve got to sort these horses out.”

  “Yeah, alright.” Urijah hoped Zoe didn’t want him to accompany the envoy. His thirst for adventure had been quelled long ago.

  Stopping at the bottom of the stone staircase, Zoe turned to Delrawk. “So, you’ll be right to handle everything then?”

  “I’ll do my best in your stead,” Delrawk humbly accepted his new responsibilities. Zoe had tasked him with quite an exhausting list to undertake, mostly concerning Lorewell’s defences.

  “Jensen’s good with the people. Make sure you go to him if you have any problems, ok?” said Zoe, to which Delrawk nodded. She placed her hand on Kasbin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about your vision. It won’t come to pass.”

  “Thanks to you, a new chain of events is unfolding. Lorewell will not fall to ruin.” Reaction to foresight. Kasbin believed his clairvoyance to be a vital link in the chain of destiny, shaping the future of the Larrosan people.

  “Good luck with your spell to find Tairrie.” After a friendly pat on the shoulder, Zoe stepped away from him.

  Unable to sleep after his earlier consultation, Kasbin spent the dark hours before dawn in the company of his lantern, preparing with great thought and care the necessary trinkets and artefacts for his spell craft. “It will go well.”

  “Ah, Urijah. Good timing. I have a favour to ask of you.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Well, two favours, actually. Firstly, are you able to organise an armoury? If the valley is attacked, I want to be able to rally and arm the people.”

  “That’ll be an easy task,” said Urijah. “Last week the men excavated King Pradosse’s ordnance cache from the ruins of Valomere. There’s hundreds of sets of weapons and armour, enough to equip an entire army.”

  “That’s fortunate!” Piece by piece, Zoe was acquiring the former king’s resources. Slowly, the new Larrosan Empire was coming together.

  “I’ll need help, though. It will be a lot of work to clean and oil all the armour and sharpen the weapons.”

  “Delrawk will organise some men to work with you,” said Zoe. “Which brings me to my next favour. We only have three smiths. Clayton, Danyor and yourself. I’d like you to take on an apprentice, if you don’t mind?”

  “No.” His tone was flat.

  “No?” What reason would he have to refuse?

  “Danyor will not take on an apprentice either. Clayton might. If you want more smiths, you’ll have to outsource them from somewhere. I’m sure there’s plenty of men in the surrounding villages who need the work.”

  “I guess we can send word to some villages,” Zoe looked to Delrawk.

  “I’ll send out a rider.” Retrieving a pencil and scroll from his cloak, Delrawk added the task to his already long list.

  “Why won’t you take on an apprentice?”

  “I’m sorry Zoe, but I’m a Vontain. It is forbidden for me to teach metalwork to someone who is not of my bloodline. My family’s techniques have been passed down throughout my lineage. I won’t break that tradition.”

  “I understand.” Tradition is important. Zoe would press the subject no further.

  “My Lady,” Dealia gave a slight bow to her superior. “The horses are set and ready. We should be
right to depart once Ruby returns with our escort.”

  “Very good.” Zoe was proud of her people and admired their diligence, having been able to prepare so much in so short a time.

  Assembled and organised, the Larrosan force led by Zoe riding atop her brilliant grey-white steed, made their steady ascent up the steep, winding path out of the valley. Pride swelled within Isabella as she glanced at the Larrosan battle standard, a lone white orchid surrounded by a field of green, hanging proudly from a polearm atop the wagon. A long count of years had passed since a true Larrosan envoy had been seen crossing Sapphiron. Isabella was no mere witness, she was a key member of the revival.

  The Winbane mountains stretched across the horizon as the company rode leisurely south along the grass-patched road, running adjacent to the still waters of the Hazelbank river. A full day they travelled along this road, stopping at dusk to set up camp on the river’s edge. Starlight shimmered upon the water as the company rested, all save Zoe, who stood alone at the water’s edge for many hours, her thoughts lost in introspection and philosophy inspired by the beauty of her surroundings.

  Half of the next day they continued along the road until turning east, they ventured into the Korgen forest. Untamed by man, the trees held sway here, governing the borders of their lands and bearing fruit to nurture the creatures living under their protection.

  Farrador Gorge carved its way across the land with its sheer cliffs and waterfalls. Snaking through its centre was Jellsen Pass, a narrow and roughly hewn road which ran for many miles before ending at the gates to Howlstone Castle. Roaming tree roots encroached the road. Weathered and exposed rock stood as silent obstacles. For those on horseback these were nothing more than a minor hindrance, easily avoided and overcome. For the wagon however, traversing the road proved gruelling. Often, Dealia utilised Griz’mar’s strength to help push the heavily laden vehicle over these obstacles. A slow and arduous task.

  “Why do they leave the road in such a state?” Ruby sat back in her saddle as she watched the great stone bear assist the wagon over a breached root. If she were ever to own a castle, the road leading to it would be grand. Marvellously paved and bordered with magnificent blossoms, radiating with grandeur. “You’d think the Men of Dawn would have enough man power to maintain to the road. If it weren’t for Griz’mar we’d probably have to abandon the wagon.”

  “Tact,” said Isabella. “It’s part of the castle’s defence.”

  “How is having a shitty road with tree roots and rocks everywhere a defence?”

  “It’s easy enough for the horses to travel along this road, but imagine trying to bring siege engines or catapults along here. It’d be pretty much impossible.” Simple, yet terribly effective. Isabella was impressed by their ingenuity. The Men of Dawn knew how to make the most of their surroundings.

  “Oh yeah,” said Isabella. “It didn’t even cross my mind. Clever!”

  Designed by master strategists, Howlstone was an imposing castle, towering above the surrounding tree canopy. The castle’s stones, hewn from rock within the gorge, complimented its surroundings, as though the castle itself had been born and grew akin, aging and rising as a denizen of the forest.

  A scouting regiment approached the group as they neared the castle. Humble and proud, the soldiers greeted their guests with polite dignity. Upon learning the reason for Zoe’s visit, the Larrosan envoy was permitted access, the scouts accompanying them inside the castle.

  While Zoe and Isabella were escorted to the command centre, the others remained by the wagon. They were met with curious glances from men passing through the courtyard, busy with their duties and from soldiers patrolling the battlements with their winged spears. As a token of goodwill and welcoming, the guests were offered a platter of various fruits and jugs of water as refreshment after their journey. The token was accepted gladly, with thankful gratitude.

  “Here we are.” Stopping outside the Lord Master’s study, Commander Falker gestured towards the open door, allowing Zoe and Isabella to enter first.

  Subtle in its prestige, the study was adorned in a simplistic manner defining refinement and elegance. It was not the rough, militant war room Zoe had been expecting.

  “Lord Master.” The Commander saluted by placing his fist on his chest plate. “Emissaries from the Larrosan Empire to see you, Ser.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” with an intelligent and scrupulous eye, Lord Master Baardsen assessed the two women. “Have the servants bring us some wine, if you would.”

  “Of course, Ser.”

  “Welcome to Howlstone, ladies.” Moving from behind his table, Ken Baardsen greeted the pair with a firm handshake.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” said Zoe. “I am Zoe,” she paused. In that moment, Zoe realised she had no official title. Hastily, she tried to come up with an appropriate name. Ruler of the Larrosan. Lady of the Larrosan. She looked to Isabella whose widened eyes were screaming at Zoe to come up with something, quickly! “Lady of Lorewell.” Ken’s face grew light, amused by the brief pause. “This is Captain Isabella.”

  “My Lord.” Isabella gave a dignified nod.

  Ken addressed Zoe. “Yours is a recently obtained title, I take it.”

  “It is.”

  “Often, born leaders find themselves in command quite suddenly. Those who are destined to rule do not seek it, it is bestowed upon them and they rise to the challenge to serve those they love, not to be loved by those they serve. Please, have a seat.”

  As they sat, servants entered the room, pouring wine for each of them.

  “I must admit,” Ken picked up his wine flute. “I was quite surprised when my men told me that a Larrosan envoy had arrived. Last I heard, Lorewell was in complete disarray. There are rumours of a witch murdering King Pradosse and destroying Valomere.”

  The black-haired witch. For a brief moment, Zoe smiled. “Her name is Akella Terrifos. She’s not a witch. She’s an Arcane Knight of the Surangi.”

  “So, the rumours are partly true.” Arcane Knights possess such incredible power. Ken now understood why the Surangi had been able to conquer Engalia so quickly and without military conflict. Another key factor, the Surangi ruler is a demi-god. “The Surangi, they’ve certainly made their presence felt upon Sapphiron, haven’t they?”

  “For the better,” said Zoe.

  “In that matter, I agree with you.” Prosperity had returned to Engalia. Townships were thriving. There was a sharp drop in thieving and murder. It was a return to the old times, when heroes wandered the land and the people knew peace.

  “With the death of King Pradosse, Lorewell has been returned to its rightful owners. We’re rebuilding the Larrosan Empire and we’re going to restore the valley to its former glory.”

  “A noble task, and a difficult one at that.” Knowing the truth of the colosseum, Ken was glad to hear of its destruction and the ending of the king’s reign. Had someone commissioned him, Ken would have happily marched his forces north and razed the entire valley to end the cruelty which took place there. “So, I take it you’ve come here looking for aid?”

  “Yes. We’ve come to commission your army,” said Zoe.

  “My men are not very proficient builders.” Raising his glass, a servant girl stepped forward and upon filling it, offered more to Zoe and Isabella.

  “Not for building, for fighting.”

  “For fighting?” Intrigued, Ken leant back, sipping thoughtfully on his wine.

  “We have reason to believe that the remnants of Pradosse’s legion have forged an alliance with the Scarlet Blades and are planning to seize control of Lorewell. If that happens, we do not have the strength to repel them.”

  The Scarlet Blades movements were known to Ken. Reports from his scouts across Engalia stated they had suffered heavy losses at the hands of the Surangi. In response, Baron Nade ordered his forces to relocate in the east. The probability of Lorewell being invaded for the Baron to establish new lands was high. “Well, your people have only just retak
en their homeland. It would be a tragedy for you to lose it so soon. The Men of Dawn are at your disposal.”

  Chapter 17

  After decades of abandonment, order fell to chaos in Analetta’s remote gardens. Unrestrained, trees grew as they pleased. Their flourishing branches trailed under eves and explored open windows. Vines roamed, dominating walls and statues alike. Invaded by wild flowers, the gardens were abundant with colour. Blossoming wisteria hung as purple clouds in the high places. Bees harvested flowers. Chirpy finches bopped about, gleefully enjoying their sanctuary. Resting on a stone bench, Kasbin warmed his face in the afternoon sun. An empty wine bottle beside him.

  Bounding across the grass in shorts with messily braided hair, Melindra jumped to swing off a tree branch. Kasbin gazed fondly at his daughter as she played. ‘Shorts again.’ It was hard to get her in a dress. Dirty nails, bruises and mischief, that was Melindra.

  “I thought you were playing with your friends at the stream?” He stood up and walked over to her.

  “Everyone left,” she brushed grass from her knees and gazed up at Kasbin, dirt smeared across her cheek. “Here, I found this for you.” Melindra took a small stone from her pocket and handed it to her father with a grin of triumph.

  Smooth, grey with white veins. “Thank you, Mel.”

  “Those are your favourite, right? The ones with the lines all over them?”

  “They are.”

  “I saw a lizard, too. He had a long tail. Sarah was scared, but I picked it up.” Melindra rocked back and forth on her toes.

  “Most girls don’t like lizards, Mel.” Licking his thumb, he wiped the dirt from her cheek. “Why didn’t you want to join your friends when they left?”

  “They’re doing boring stuff.”

  “Well, there’s plenty of fun stuff to do in the gardens.”

  “I know!” The gardens were her new favourite place to play. It was great exploring the empty gazebos and she knew all the best spots for hide and seek. “I’ve seen that stone bear heaps of times already, anyway!”