Phoenix in Shadow
Page 1
Table of Contents
Previously in The Balanced Sword series
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
GAZETTEER FOR ZARATHAN
SEQUEL TO PHOENIX RISING
When Kyri Vantage, Phoenix Justiciar of Myrionar, with the help of her companions Tobimar Silverun of Skysand and the unexpectedly dangerous little Toad, Poplock Duckweed, defeated monstrous killer Thornfalcon and unmasked a conspiracy of treacherous False Justiciars, she knew the job was only partly done. A dark power stirs on the far side of the terrifying Rivendream Pass. Now, as the world shudders at the arrival of the Black City, of the King of All Hells, Kyri, Tobimar, and Poplock must venture beyond Rivendream Pass and into Moonshade Hollowa place from which none have ever returned. What they find there will challenge everything they believe in and conceals a menace they cannot imagine.
BAEN BOOKS by RYK E. SPOOR
Digital Knight
Paradigms Lost
GRAND CENTRAL ARENA SERIES
Grand Central Arena
Spheres of Influence
THE BALANCED SWORD SERIES
Phoenix Rising
Phoenix in Shadow
BAEN BOOKS by RYK E. SPOOR & ERIC FLINT
Boundary
Threshold
Portal
Castaway Planet
PHOENIX IN SHADOW
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Ryk E. Spoor
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.
A Baen Books Original
Baen Publishing Enterprises
P.O. Box 1403
Riverdale, NY 10471
www.baen.com
ISBN: 978-1-4767-8037-5
Cover art by Todd Lockwood
Maps by Randy Asplund
First Baen printing, May 2015
Distributed by Simon & Schuster
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Spoor, Ryk E.
Phoenix in shadow / Ryk E. Spoor.
pages ; cm
ISBN 978-1-4767-8037-5 (trade pb)
I. Title.
PS3619.P665P47 2015
813’.6—dc23
2015005954
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Pages by Joy Freeman (www.pagesbyjoy.com)
Printed in the United States of America
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS & THANKS
As always to my wife Kathleen, for giving me the time
To Toni Weisskopf, for ensuring Kyri’s story will be told
To Tony Daniel, for giving excellent editorial advice
And to my Beta-Readers, for giving me encouragement and feedback—especially my Loyal Lieutenant, Shana.
This novel is dedicated to my son Christopher,
who helped make Kaizatenzei what it now is.
Previously in The Balanced Sword series
Kyri Victoria Vantage lost her parents to unknown attackers some years before; even the Justiciars of Myrionar, God of Justice and Vengeance, the patron deity of her country Evanwyl, were unable to discover the identity of the assailants. But she has moved on, and her brother Rion has become a Justiciar himself. But then tragedy strikes a second time, and during a sudden and monstrous attack on Evanwyl, something kills Rion, tearing his soul to shreds.
Shocked and now worried that her whole family is in peril, Kyri leaves Evanwyl with her aunt Victoria and younger sister Urelle, travelling to far-distant Zarathanton to begin a new life. But a chance discovery there reveals the hideous truth: that it was the Justiciars who were responsible, the supposed holy warriors somehow betraying everything they stand for. In rage and shock, Kyri demands Myrionar explain itself—and the god answers. Something far worse is happening; Myrionar is weakened, perhaps dying, but It promises Kyri that if she will be true to Myrionar—will become the one true Justiciar—then she will one day have the justice and vengeance she seeks.
Meanwhile, Tobimar Silverun, youngest prince of the country of Skysand, is forced to leave his country in search of the origins of his people—a quest that is thrust on his family once in a generation, and which amounts to exile for twenty-four years . . . unless he can discover their ancient homeland. The mysterious mage Khoros, once Tobimar’s teacher, also warns Tobimar that the next Chaoswar is about to begin, and that this is connected to his quest.
Tobimar’s search leads him to Zarathanton, greatest city of the world, and to a startling meeting with Poplock Duckweed, a diminuitive Toad adventurer who has already disrupted the plans of one of the Mazolishta demonlords, Voorith. The two seek an audience with the Sauran King, only to find that he has been assassinated moments before they enter the Throne Room!
Having accepted Myrionar’s offer, Kyri realizes that if she is to be a Justiciar, she must obtain the magical and powerful Raiment—the armor of a Justiciar—that both symbolizes and protects a Justiciar, and sets out to find the half-legendary Spiritsmith who can forge the Raiment; after managing to discover him—and pass his lethal tests—she convinces him that she is indeed the first of the new Justiciars, and takes the name Phoenix as her new title (as all Justiciars have the names of birds).
As refugees from the Forest Sea begin to pour into Zarathanton in massive quantities, and word of revolutions or wars in distant lands begin to arrive, Tobimar and Poplock realize that they are seeing part of a massive, coordinated plan to destroy the State of the Dragon King and perhaps the peace of the world—certainly part of the Chaoswar that Khoros warned them of.
The small clues that Tobimar had for locating his country suddenly come into clear focus when he realizes that the god Myrionar’s symbolism and location fit everything he has heard, pointing him and Poplock to Evanwyl. In the company of a new ally, Xavier Ross of Earth, they head for Evanwyl, confronting demonic pursuers along the way.
With her new Raiment and accompanying sword, Kyri begins her work of undermining the false Justiciars and preparing to confront them. She attempts to convince the first, Mist Owl, to change sides and help her, but he
fears the force behind the false Justiciars too much to do this, and dies at her hand. A second Justiciar, Shrike, also fails to kill her, afraid that she will convince his adoptive son, the Justiciar Condor, to follow her, and this will lead to Condor’s death. Realizing that her confrontational approach is making it almost certain that she must fight each one, she chooses to try another way: to approach them not as a Justiciar, but as their “little sister,” Kyri Vantage. For this, she selects Thornfalcon, the least martial of the Justiciars.
At the same time, Tobimar and Poplock have arrived in Evanwyl, having parted ways temporarily with Xavier. They hear the rumor of a false Justiciar named “Phoenix” who has killed at least one of the real Justiciars, and, as this fits with the sort of thing they’ve already encountered more than once, offer their services to help hunt down this Phoenix. They come across Shrike’s body and deduce where Phoenix is headed next—although they do not realize the truth yet.
Kyri makes contact with Thornfalcon, who seems open to her approach . . . until he reveals that he has set a trap for her. He was the one who killed her brother, and who has directed most of the operations of the false Justiciars (although there is someone or something above him).
Tobimar and Poplock arrive at Thornfalcon’s just in time to prevent him from murdering Kyri, and instead find themselves in a fight to the death. But Kyri escapes her imprisonment and joins them; together the three kill Thornfalcon despite his nigh-demonic powers, but are then caught in a trap that is unleashing an apparently endless horde of monsters into the midst of Evanwyl. At the last minute, Xavier shows up, and together they locate the source of the monstrosities; Kyri calls upon the power of Myrionar and destroys the gateway through which they are coming.
Once all four have been introduced and understand each others’ stories, Kyri, Poplock, Tobimar, and Xavier make their way to the Temple of the Balanced Sword where they confront two more false Justiciars, Bolthawk and Skyharrier, and reveal them for what they are.
The truth has been revealed, but they know that there are more mysteries—who was truly behind Thornfalcon, how a god’s chosen emissaries can be corrupted, and how this all connects to the rise of war throughout the world. With Xavier now gone on his own quest, it falls to the three of them to find the answers . . .
PROLOGUE
This is . . . most interesting.
It surveyed the clearing, smoke still drifting from multiple scattered fires which had—mostly—died out by now, dozens of bodies of monstrous, twisted . . . things lying everywhere, and a huge scar of blackened earth that stretched from an underground opening to fan out all the way to the edge; ash, dust, and blood coated everything black, gray, and red-brown, shocking against the vibrant green of the jungle. It appears I have arrived rather late for the party. What a shame.
It . . . well, sniffed would have been an appropriate term, but while it did think of the perceptions it gained as scents, they were not; the senses it extended were far beyond those of ordinary creatures, born of its essence and power, and not limited to the physical. A mighty battle indeed, and much more than I would have expected . . .
In all honesty it had expected that—when the conflict came—one of two things would happen; either Thornfalcon would kill the Phoenix, or the new-minted Justiciar would somehow overcome Thornfalcon. If the latter, well, then his expectations would be fully met. But it had thought this confrontation still a bit in the future, and its arrival here was purely fortuitous—a morning conference with its most useful acolyte to make some further arrangements . . . which, it seemed, would no longer be necessary. So let us see what really occurred.
As the senses of magic and power, tracery of traces of past conflict, began to impress themselves upon the being’s consciousness, it raised one eyebrow. Oh, now, not nearly so simple as I thought. No, not at all.
There certainly was godscent here—it knew the particular tang of Myrionar well. Of necessity, it thought with a smile, for it is rather hard to fool others with a counterfeit unless one truly understands the original. But there were a myriad of other scents. Alchemical concoctions and materials had been used with abandon, and it was impossible—with the god-fire’s interference—to tell if it had all been Thornfalcon’s work, or someone else’s. Other types of magic . . . and was that another god-scent? It frowned. No, it’s possibly more than one. Or a mixture, magic and god-power. Not familiar directly . . . but there is a touch of the Mortal God about it that I do not like at all.
While it did not—precisely—fear any of the gods, there were those it was very wise to take extremely seriously. The Greatest Dragons, certainly, Chromaias and the Four . . . but of them all, perhaps the most to be feared by those—like itself—which walked the darkest paths was Terian, the Nemesis of Evil, Light in the Darkness, the Mortal God, the Infinite. Yet it is not the touch of a priest or a god-warrior. Something else, and that is intriguing indeed.
Finally it found one of the things it was looking for: Thornfalcon’s body, headless and now burned almost beyond recognition. Now, let us see . . . It frowned. Scarce anything remains. I can barely sense his soul now. It desperately clings to the remains still, which is why I sensed not his defeat before I came . . . but it is nigh-obliterated.
Reaching out, it drew in what remained, or tried to. But even the effort of pulling in the traces caused them to fade, shatter, just as touching the ashes caused them to collapse into shapelessness, losing whatever they had kept of their shape in life.
It smiled with an edge of apology. I had promised you power, Thornfalcon, and of your people you had shown much promise . . . and begun to learn true mastery. I am surprised your life has truly ended. This should not have happened.
One—or more, it corrected itself—of the weapons used upon Thornfalcon must have been made in such a fashion as to break even the most unique changes that the being had made to Thornfalcon’s essence, to shatter that particular soul-hungry pattern and make it impotent. Were it otherwise, Thornfalcon would rise again, though it might have taken time. I would do well to remember this myself, for when the time comes.
This did leave another problem, in that it could not simply ask Thornfalcon what had happened, what he had learned in that final and titanic conflict. Must do this the harder way; depending on what the Phoenix learned, and how he, or she, chooses to act, I may be on a rather limited timetable now!
It extended its senses further, to make sure there were no witnesses. I do not want interruptions now; there are things that would need explanation. Fortunately it had come here early in the morning and Thornfalcon’s little estate was set at a distance from other residences, but there would be gawkers, or more purposeful visitors, soon enough.
Someone took Thornfalcon’s head. Single cut, very clean, large blade. Definitely this “Phoenix” as described.
But were you fighting him alone, avenging Justiciar of Myrionar? True, you have killed two others, and it smiled to think of what would come of that second killing, one it had sensed only a short time before, but Thornfalcon was undoubtedly much more challenging an opponent, and I did not read your prior battles as ones in which you had no difficulty. No, you had help, I think.
It shifted form to one more comfortable for careful inspection of the perimeter. It was at the edge of the clearing that traces would remain of those who had come in . . . or left. It took some time, but finally it found what it sought: a faint set of marks and tracks leading away, into the jungle.
Two sets of feet . . . no, three . . . left here. And, it would appear, at very much the same time. Yes, my little Phoenix, you have acquired friends . . . and here, I have your scent.
It laughed aloud suddenly, a sound that was more tearing metal and shattering bone than human amusement. Kyri Victoria Vantage! A perfect symmetry, and oh, it makes so very much sense of all things. Yes, an excellent choice, Myrionar, a well-played choice of your final piece in our game.
The creature could now understand the exact way in which the prior Justiciar
s had died; they had been undone by their own sentiments, slowed or confused by the children they had known all their lives confronting them with their crimes. Mist Owl would have allowed his death as a sort of futile penance, while Shrike . . . It smiled. Shrike would have become emotional and desperate for another reason.
However, Thornfalcon . . . The figure shook its head. Thornfalcon would not have been so affected. He did have other interests which might have led him astray, but that of pure sentiment, no. She would have needed help, indeed.
It considered the scents of the companions. Both young men, yes. Of a similar age, it would seem. The first . . . there is a general familiarity about it, but the individual is unknown. But it has been a long time since I scented this particular . . . could it be?
It moved along the trail, finding that the three were traveling in a nearly straight line, and very purposefully . . . Towards the capital, I think. Yes. Interesting. That may make things difficult . . . but I must learn more before I act.
It retraced its steps, looking for additional clues that it might have missed. Why is there a hint of the Mortal God on this one? There was no immediate answer, though the faint scent taunted it maddeningly. Never mind. Let us examine the third.
The third young man . . . Now that is most interesting. There is a scent with him of . . . plastics. Electronics. By my Power, this boy must be from the other world!