DAWN OF THE PHOENIX

by A. J. STRICKLER

  She was bone tired. K’xarr had tried to get her to sleep, but she had refused. The children had gotten up and were with Rhys. The young healer had them down at the barn feeding the horses. She leaned against the house, her eyelids were so heavy they felt like lead. She fought it, but they slowly closed.

  “Why don’t you go inside and get some sleep? There is nothing more you can do.”

  Her eyes snapped back open. “Where could he be, K’xarr?”

  He rubbed at the black beard he had grown. “I don’t know, but…” He hesitated, and she knew what he was going to say.

  “We can’t wait long, Endra. You know I would if I could, but it’s getting more dangerous by the day. We have stayed here far too long. I’m sure the knights’ bodies have been found by now, and we must move on before someone comes looking.”

  She knew he was right, but she couldn’t let go, not now. Her life had been full of too much hardship and suffering. She couldn’t let fate dash her hopes away again, but there were her children to think of.

  “I will go on, but I will come back after everyone is settled. I won’t stop searching for him.”

  “Perhaps I can help.” K’xarr and Endra both drew their swords. A small figure in a great black robe with a deep cowl had appeared not twenty feet away. It was a woman by the outline and the sound of her voice. He called out to the others. The rest of the men came out of the farmhouse armed and ready.

  “What black sorcery is this that you appear out of thin air?” K’xarr said through gritted teeth.

  “The blackest kind, to be sure, but if you want to know where your friend can be found, I would lower those blades.”

  Endra did so instantly and the others did the same reluctantly, K’xarr being the last.

  “I would see your face, wench, before I believe anything you say.”

  The woman raised her delicate hands and pulled back the cowl. Waves of black hair fell past her shoulders and her eyes were dark and hard. Her looks were truly exquisite, but she had coldness to her, a look of cruelty. “Are you happy now, K’xarr Strom?”

  K’xarr’s eyes narrowed. “Do I know you, witch?”

  “Witch, I think I like the term, you may refer to me as such. You don’t know me, Camiran, but I know you and I have chosen to help you at no small amount of danger to myself.”

  “What do you want in return? I’ve never heard of a witch that didn’t have a price.”

  “I see you have no love of the arts, K’xarr Strom. All I ask is that you remember the aid I give you today.”

  “Very well, if that is all, I will remember. Now tell me your name so I know who it is I need to remember?”

  “You may call me Selena, that will do.”

  “Well, Selena, do you know what happened to Kian?”

  “He is in the hands of the Dark One.”

  “I have heard of him, the foul wizard that lives in the Adorn Forest?” Vandarus said, looking almost frightened.

  Selena smiled. “Yes, Bandaran, the very one. He has a tower deep inside the forest, and your friend is there.”

  K’xarr stepped toward the witch, his fear of her magic overcome by concern for his friend. “How did he get him to this tower so fast?”

  “The same way I came here: magic. And, K’xarr, you will have to face that magic if you are planning on retrieving the half-breed. I will tell you something more before you undertake this quest. You may not want him back after the Dark One gets through with him.”

  K’xarr reached out and grabbed the woman by her cloak. “What is he doing, witch?”

  The woman looked at his hand. “I would remove that now if I were you.”

  K’xarr twisted the robe tighter in his hand. The witch raised her arms and uttered a word. K’xarr and everyone else were hurled against the side of the farmhouse by a great blast of air. Shaken but uninjured, the group began to get to their feet.

  “Take care who you try to bully, boy.” The witch straightened her robe, giving K’xarr and the others a contemptuous look. "You will find what’s left of the half-breed in the Dark One’s tower, provided you want what remains.” The witch vanished without a sound.

  K’xarr pulled Endra to her feet. “By all the gods, I hate magic. Rufio, get the horses ready.”

  K’xarr had sent Rufio and Vandarus into Bandara with Rhys and Endra’s children. Rhys said he had several places they could lay low until the three of them returned from the Adorn Forest. It was well over a hundred miles to the forest and there was no Gold Road to follow this time. It would take weeks to get there and back, even if they rode hard.

  He looked over at the woman riding beside him. K’xarr wanted to send Endra with the others to Bandara, but he knew there was no chance of that. For some reason, Endra had fallen for the crazy half-breed. Why, he would never know. A sword-maid like her could make any warrior’s blood run hot. She could have her pick of any man she set her eyes on, but she chose Kian. Maybe she was crazy too.

  He wished he could have brought Rhys along, but Rufio and Vandarus could never have managed the children alone. Endra’s children would have outfoxed those two in a day.

  At least he had Cromwell with him. K’xarr had become accustomed to having the big Toran at his side. They had been sword-brothers for a long while now and K’xarr could not ask for a more dependable ally. Not that he would ever tell Cromwell that, he would never hear the end of it if he did.

  “Cromwell, keep an eye out. I don’t know where those two armies are and I don’t want to run into either right now.”

  Cromwell nodded.

  They were headed north. Somewhere out there, the Abberdonian and the Bandaran armies were making war on each other. That was where he should be going, but there was just no way he was going to let some wizard take one of his men. He was going to find Kian if he had to burn the Adorn Forest to the ground to do it. He didn’t much care for that witch either. If he saw her again, he would set her straight on who she could bully. It still bothered him why the witch had taken an interest in his small band. He didn’t like magic and didn’t trust anyone who used it. He had no doubt he would see the witch again.

  Rufio was not happy. K’xarr, Cromwell, and Endra had been gone several days and it already seemed like a lifetime. Rhys was off delivering some woman’s baby and Vandarus had taken off to the Silver Fist again, so he had been left with the little heathens.

  The two boys had broken spindles off Rhys’s front porch and were using them as swords. Rufio had encouraged that at first until he was hit in the leg with one. Now he sported a bruise the size of a ham on his thigh.

  Sweet little Tressa had brought a dead cat into the house and told him it was her new pet. He had tried to take it from her, but the little girl had gotten away from him. Now her pet cat “Cromwella” was hidden somewhere in the house.

  The devils wouldn’t listen to anyone but Rhys—and to him only about half the time. He had commanded a company of Dragitan cavalrymen and they weren’t as unruly as Endra’s brood.

  They had decided to stay at the healer’s home. Rufio found it foolish, but Rhys said he had to be somewhere his patients could find him. Dedication like that could get a man killed.

  They hadn’t seen anyone lurking around and the people of the neighborhood said they had not seen any Royal Guardsmen in the area since the war started. Rufio had given them a few copper coins to let him know if they saw anyone from the palace in the area. Rhys had told all his patients to be on the lookout as well.

  Rufio figured everyone at the palace might be too busy with the war to worry about the healer, but he tried to do as much as he could to keep them from being unpleasantly surprised.

  He heard Vandarus ride up outside. When the Bandaran walked up on the porch, he wasn’t alone.

  With him was a portly young man of maybe seventeen, with a bowl haircut and wearing home spun clothing with a dirty apron. Tied to the apron strings was a skillet.

  Rufio met them at the door. “I see you’re doing a good jo
b of keeping our location secret there, Vandarus. What’s wrong, you could only find one person to bring back from the tavern?”

  “Don’t get mad yet, I recruited Nick here. He’s going to be our cook. He’s a good man. Besides, we have been here for days and no one has come looking for Rhys anyway.”

  Rufio looked at the Bandaran and closed his eyes, waiting before he spoke. “You went to the inn to get us some ale, and you took it upon yourself to recruit a cook while you were there?”

  Vandarus smiled at him. “Well, yes, every band needs a cook and Nick here is the best. Also, I tired of always being the one that gets stuck doing the cooking.”

  “K’xarr is going to kill you. You know that, don’t you?”

  The cook’s eyes darted to the blonde warrior. “I don’t want to start any trouble, Vandarus. I’ll just go.”

  Vandarus grabbed him by the arm. “Just wait. Rufio, I have known Nick a long time, just give him a chance to cook for you. He lost his job and I told him I would see he had one with us.”

  Rufio looked at the cook. “If you’re such a good cook, why did you lose your job?”

  Nick adjusted his apron and looked at the Dragitan. “I was a better cook than the owner of the Silver Fist. I was bringing in a lot of customers and he had been telling them he was doing the cooking. When his wife got angry with him because he was dallying with one of their barmaids, she told all his patrons it was me doing the cooking. It embarrassed him and he became very angry and told me to get out.”

  “What’s your name?” Rufio asked.

  “Anais Nicolas, but most people call me Nick Nock. “

  “Okay, Nick Nock, you can cook us supper tonight and if you can make the slop Rhys calls food taste good, you have a job. That is, of course, if the man that leads us agrees.”

  The chubby cook smiled. “Sounds like a deal. Where’s the kitchen?” Vandarus slapped him on the back and pointed him on his way.

  The young man went into the kitchen to get started. Once they were alone, Rufio looked at his friend. “Vandarus, what were you thinking? We are trying to lay low until K’xarr gets back. I don’t think he really wanted you recruiting people while he was gone.”

  “I couldn’t just leave him. They fired him right in front of me, what could I do?”

  Rufio scratched at his curly black hair. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else from you.”

  Vandarus unbuckled his sword belt. “Where are the children?” Rufio sighed and his shoulders slumped. “The boys were on the roof last I saw them and I’m unsure where Tressa is.”

  Vandarus listened closely and could hear the patter or footsteps on the roof. “Well, let’s round them up for dinner. Rhys should be back soon.” The blonde man sniffed the air. “Rufio, do you smell something dead?”

  They finished the meal Nick Nock had made from the stores Rhys had on hand. The healer himself had joined them halfway through the meal. Everyone stared at the healer’s head. His hair was more blonde than Vandarus’s now, almost white. “I’m not going to get used to that hair, Rhys,” Rufio said.

  Rhys raised his eyes as if he could see his snow-colored hair. “I had to disguise myself so I could get around town without looking over my shoulder all the time. I used a little too much of the concoction I made on it. It wasn’t supposed to be this light. Is it that bad?”

  The Dragitan started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Rhys asked.

  “If your medicine ever fails you, I believe you could get a job in a Dragitan bathhouse. I’m sure some of the senators would love you. With that hair, you would be just their type.”

  The men burst out laughing. Rhys looked at them sheepishly.

  Rufio leaned back in his chair, rubbing his belly. “Nick Nock, that might have been the best meal I have ever eaten. I wonder what you could do with real food, instead of the stuff Rhys buys.”

  Rhys gave the Dragitan a sour look. “I have to agree with Rufio, Nick, it was delicious. Why, even the children have cleaned their plates and trust us, that seldom ever happens.”

  Vandarus just sat, nodding, at the end of the table with a very satisfied look on his face.

  Rufio stood up. “When K’xarr returns, I will suggest he keeps you on. In the meantime, to earn you keep around here you can cook and help us with the children.”

  “I would like that,” Nick Nock said.

  “Great, that’s settled. The first thing you can do is help Tressa there find her cat Cromwella.”

  Kian didn’t think he couldn’t take any more. It felt like they had turned his body inside out then back again. He had a line of stitches all the way down the front of his body.

  He had watched as Siro opened his body. The evil little man had put his hands inside him and tore out his living heart. He didn’t know what happened after that, he had been screaming too wildly.

  Why was he still alive? His mind could not wrap itself around what he had seen. What were they trying to do to him? He was in agony the likes of which he could never have imagined. It was all too much to bear, let alone understand. He felt his sanity slipping away. Then he heard the wizard’s voice.

  “You did well, Kian, better than we had hoped and much better than the cat.” The Dark One held up the panther’s huge pelt. It was shriveled up, empty and dry. “Wish I could say it was over, but now the important part begins. It will be worse than the alteration of your body, I’m afraid.”

  Kian looked at the cloaked sorcerer. He was too weak to speak. He wanted to plead, to beg, but all he could do was whimper like a child.

  “Now I must alter your mind. When I’m finished, you will be much more agreeable to the idea of serving me. I’m afraid this will be much more painful than what you have already suffered.”

  Kian’s eyes rolled in his head like an animal that was about to be slaughtered. The Dark One leaned down and began to whisper into his ear. And the true horror began.

  Cain stood with Talorn, watching the Bandaran army march past, and he was greatly disheartened. They had been bloodied now and his army had their first taste of battle. After several skirmishes, they had finally fought a major battle. It had not gone well and it had been his fault.

  Yesterday, they thought they had caught Prince Griffyn, King Havalon’s oldest son, unaware. Talorn had cautioned him to be leery of the seemingly unaware Abberdonians, but Cain had ordered a full attack anyway.

  It had been a trap. Griffyn’s younger brother, Prince Donovan, had attacked from the east against the Bandaran’s right flank. If it had not been for Talorn’s quick thinking, his army might have been beaten then and there. Still, they had left four thousand of their countrymen dead in the field.

  He had received word that Lord Fox and Lord Bradford were only ten miles to the south with their armies, and that’s why the Abberdonian Princes had not pursued them. They must have known about the reinforcements and didn’t want to risk engaging Talorn. If Talorn had held long enough, Fox and Bradford could have joined the fight. Cain was happy to see the two lords and their troops arrive. The prince knew he would need every man he could find to deal with Havalon and his sons. The only reinforcements yet to appear were the troops from Braxton Bluff, but no word had come from Duke Blackthorn as of yet.

  He was not worried about the duke’s men, they would come soon enough. He learned a hard lesson today and needed to talk with his general. He found Talorn walking back from speaking with Fox and Bradford.

  “Talorn, I should have listened. I should have been more careful.”

  Talorn put his hand on the king’s shoulder. He knew Cain wanted to be a hero to his people so badly that he had been overzealous. “It was bad, but it didn’t finish us, Majesty. Next time, just take a little more time to think things through.”

  “Next time, I will let my general do his job. I went over the history of every battle I could find when I was in Aquitania, but it’s not the same as being in the field. Things happen quickly out here.” Talorn mounted his horse and
Cain did the same.

  “Majesty, may I speak frankly?”

  “Of course, you always can. I value you what you have to say.”

  “My friend, you must be more patient with things. It is your weakness and if the enemy finds that out, they will use it against you in battle.”

  Cain turned his horse and started to follow the weary army south. “I know and you’re right. I will do my best to work on that. When do you think your father’s troops will arrive?”

  The young general turned his horse and followed his king. “I hope soon, we could use the men. Havalon has split his army into three large units, and it gives him an advantage.”

  Cain smiled. “Then I will just have to be patient and wait until your father’s troops get here.”

  The Adorn Forest was vast and eerie. During the elven wars, tens of thousands of elves had lost their lives here. Legends told that the Reaper, the dreaded God of Death, had ordered his armies to nail the elven prisoners to the trees. There was no mercy—men, women, and children, any of the elven race that were captured suffered the same fate.

  People had stopped coming here or even harvesting wood from the forest, claiming it was haunted. Until this day, very few journeyed into the strange wood. Many of the kingdoms around the forest acquired their wood here, but only from its perimeter. The woodcutters refused to venture into the dark forest, fearing the ghosts of the wood.

  Cromwell stared at the immenseness of the Adorn. “Look how big this forest is, a man could get lost in there and never find his way out. K’xarr, how are we going to find the tower inside that?”

  “Be quiet and let me think for a moment.” K’xarr surveyed the forest. It had taken over two weeks to get here from Turill. “I thought maybe we could see the damn thing sticking up, but all I see are trees.”

  Endra pointed. “I see a small shack down there just inside the woods, can you see it?”

  K’xarr looked; it took him a few seconds to see what she was talking about. There, just a few yards beyond the edge of the wood, stood a dilapidated woodcutter’s shack.