DAWN OF THE PHOENIX

by A. J. STRICKLER

  Siro could not believe it. For five nights they fought off the dead and the ghouls he had summoned with the Horn of Nillus. He had even sent some of his special people to attack them. They had destroyed them as well. If the ghosts of the wood would heed his summons, things would have been very different, but they never did. The old ghosts were just too strong.

  Now he had to tell the master he had failed. The half-elf’s friends were only hours away and he had nothing else to try. He walked up the stone stairs to the master’s private quarters with his head hanging, nearly in tears. He feebly knocked on the door.

  “Master, it is Siro.” The mage stepped out of his room, pulling on the black leather mask that hid his scarred face. Siro could smell the salves he used on the scars.

  “Let me guess, Siro, you have failed to stop the party coming to rescue our guest?”

  “Yes, Master. They slew everything I sent at them. I don’t understand it.”

  The Dark One patted the necromancer on the shoulder. “Well, Siro, at least we know you're still as incompetent as ever.” The wizard started down the hall. “There must be more to them than I thought. You traveled with these men, what can you tell me about them?”

  Siro thought for a moment. “They are hard men, Master, they come from the Harsh Coast like I do.”

  “If you are an example of the hardness of the people of the Harsh Coast, Siro, then there is no reason to fear them. Go on and stop trying to be impressive. What else can you tell me?”

  “They have black blood,” the little necromancer offered.

  The wizard’s head whipped around. “You didn’t think to tell me this beforehand?”

  Siro looked at his master, confused. “I didn’t think it was of much consequence. I thought it was just an abnormality some of them share. I did manage to steal a sample of it, though.” Siro pulled a dark stained rag from his pocket.

  The wizard examined the rag. “Since you acquired this, I won’t cut off your nose. I can’t believe you thought the fact they had black blood wasn’t important, you cretin.”

  “Sorry, Master, I won’t let it happen again.”

  The Dark One sighed. “Don’t worry, I will destroy them myself when they arrive. Follow me and we shall prepare.” He handed the stained rag back to Siro. “Put that somewhere safe. I’m sure it will come in handy someday. Now go up top and stall those buffoons while I prepare."

  Endra was exhausted. Between her fear and the nightly attacks, she had gotten little sleep since they entered the forest. She could hardly go on. She knew K’xarr and Cromwell were tired too and Ansel could not keep his eyes open. They all were battered and bruised.

  Ansel had told them to make sure to clean any wounds they had as best as they could, that the teeth and claws of the dead carried many diseases.

  Endra guessed it was about noon. It was hard to see the sun clearly for all the trees. Her legs were so heavy she was about to collapse when there, looming ahead in a large clearing, was the tower.

  Endra saw the reason the tower could not be seen from afar: it was sunk into the ground with only about thirty feet of it being visible, the rest looked to be buried in the forest floor. The tower was also tilted slightly to one side, making it appear as if it was about to fall down at any moment.

  They spread out in a half circle with their weapons drawn. Endra realized she could see no doors or windows. They had brought no rope and the surface of the tower was too smooth to climb. The group spread out and began looking for a way in. Endra looked up and saw an ugly face she recognized peering down at her from the top of the tower. “Siro, you’ve escaped. Throw down a rope or something. We need help getting in. Where’s Kian?” K’xarr and the others jogged over when they heard Endra calling out to Siro. All four of them stood looking up at their former healer.

  “It took you all long enough to get here. The half-breed is inside. Wait there, I will find something to throw down to you.” Siro’s face disappeared from their sight.

  “Who is that?” Ansel asked.

  “He is a healer that traveled with us. He was taken as well,” Endra explained. She was filled with anticipation. Siro said Kian was inside; they had gotten here in time. Endra had been desperately worried they would arrive too late to save the half-elf. “Hurry, Siro,” she called out.

  A moment later, the healer’s face once again appeared. “Get ready, here it comes.”

  They all stood looking up at the tower waiting for a rope to be thrown over the side. The warriors watched as what looked like a glass ball came falling towards them. It hit the ground and broke at their feet. A thin green smoke poured from the broken glass and encircled the group. In seconds, they all became light-headed. “You should not have come, K’xarr. Now you’re going to die at the hands of my master.”

  Ansel had already fallen to the ground unconscious and the others staggered around as if they were drunk. “Siro, you ugly bastard, I will kill you for this,” K’xarr shouted. His words were slurred, but Siro understood him just fine.

  “No, my friend, it is you who will die, and it will be unpleasant, of that I can assure you.” The little man began to laugh as K’xarr, Endra, and Cromwell fell to their knees and collapsed on the ground.

  The masked sorcerer joined Siro on the top of the tower. He looked over the side at the unconscious people below. “Well done, now go get the swordsman and bring him to me. We will see how well the control spells I put in place work when I order him to kill his friends. Hurry, they won’t be down for long.”

  “Right away, Master.” Siro hurried down the ladder and into the tower.

  The wizard paced the rooftop. He couldn’t wait to see if his experiment had succeeded. If it had, he would have accomplished something no other sorcerer had and he would control a very deadly weapon. He was thinking of the enchanted warrior’s possibilities when Siro returned.

  “Master, I must speak with you.”

  “What now? I told you to bring the half-breed to me. Get back down there and bring him up here, we have guests waiting.”

  Siro swallowed hard. “That’s just it, Master, he has escaped the cell. He is loose somewhere in the tower.”

  “Back down the ladder, we must find him.”

  “What about the others, Master?”

  “There is time to deal with them later. Besides, they can’t get into the tower anyway. We’ve got more pressing problems at the moment than a few warriors at our door. The monster we made is loose in the tower. Now hurry up, you fool, there no time to lose. ”

  The Dark One ran down to the cell where he had imprisoned Kian and found that the door had been knocked off its hinges. “Siro, what the hell happened?”

  Siro shrugged. “I guess we were off on some of our calculations, Master, or there were some unforeseen complications from the merging. It is why I suggested using only one subject on the half-elf, as he is already a mixed breed to begin with. Adding the essence of one creature and the physical substance of an altogether different creature to a man who was already of dual lineage might be where we made our mistake. The blending might have just been too unnatural.”

  The Dark One backhanded the little necromancer across the mouth. “I don’t need you to tell me what I should and should not do. Find him, he must be taken alive.”

  Siro wiped the blood from his mouth. He had rarely seen his master lose his temper. The wizard usually remained calm under any circumstances.

  “I have worked on this too long, Siro, and I will not have what we made get away from me now.” The Dark One composed himself and looked at his assistant. “If we don’t find him quickly, we may have a problem.”

  “What do you mean, Master?” Siro was frightened. He had never seen his master so concerned about anything.

  “It’s obvious I needed more time to build his trust to make him more controllable. I don’t know what he will do, or really what he can do. In the condition he is in now, he is just as dangerous to us as anyone else.”

  His mind was so j
umbled, he couldn’t think. What was his name? He thought it was Kian. Did that sound right? What he did know was that he must escape this place; he had to get away before the pain returned.

  He had wandered down the stone stairs, passing many doors on his way. When he got to the bottom, there was a tunnel. He followed it. After a little way, the tunnel became a natural cave. He found a small pool of dark water. It was cold and he drank from it.

  He raised his head from the water. He knew it was dark in the cave but he could see. He walked on until he came to large cavern. The cave continued on, branching off into three different directions, but something had caught his eye here.

  Two braziers burned in front of a natural alcove in the wall of the cavern. A small altar sat inside the alcove covered by a silk sheet. Above the altar was a mirror with small shelves to either side. The shelves held small items he was unfamiliar with. He looked in the mirror. There was something different, but his mind wouldn’t let him focus on it.

  He reached down and pulled off the silk sheet. There lay a longsword. The hilt, cross piece, and pommel were made from one solid piece of strange black metal. On the pommel was an inlay of silver, the design was arrows bursting out in all directions from a circular center.

  He picked up the weapon. It felt good in his hand. He knew what this was. The blade seemed to almost move in the firelight, swirling colors of black and gray, the strange steel looking almost alive. He had never seen metal like it before.

  Kian turned and headed back up the way he had come. He felt much more at ease now, as if he had found something he had lost.

  A woman stepped from the shadows unseen. She was dressed in a black gown, her face covered by a dark-laced funeral veil. “Yes, my little monster, take my blade and introduce yourself to the world.”

  The Dark One was going down the stairs quicker than Siro could keep up. “Master, I can’t move that fast.”

  “He may have gotten to the cave, you little runt.”

  Now Siro knew why his master was running: the sword. “Master, the sword is warded. He can’t touch it.”

  “It was warded when I stole it from the temple in Sidia as well; wards are made to be broken.”

  They came down the stairs into the dining hall when Siro saw his master taken off his feet. The wizard flew through the air and struck the wall on the other side of the hall with a thud.

  Siro couldn’t stop, he slid across the stone floor to come face to face with his experiment. The half-elf grabbed the little wizard by the robe and hurled him one-handed down the steps he had just ascended from.

  The Dark One slid himself up the wall and tried to cast a spell. Before he could get it off, his creation had crossed the dining hall and began slamming him against the wall over and over. Only his cloak ripping away saved his life. He stumbled backward and fell to the floor.

  The monster leaped high into the air. With his sword pointed downward, the monster was coming right for him. The Dark One whispered a word and vanished. The half-elf hit the floor where his enemy had been a second ago, driving half the uncanny sword blade into the solid stone floor. He pulled it out and headed up the stairs.

  Endra was coming to. She saw K’xarr and Cromwell helping Ansel to his feet. The woodsman was shaking his head to try to rid himself of the green smoke’s effects. “What was that?” Ansel asked.

  “That was magic used by the little bastard that betrayed us. I knew he was no good,” Cromwell said. The Toran continued to curse Siro under his breath. It was easy to see the big man was angry at himself for being tricked. They all were.

  Endra got to her feet. “He fooled us all, Cromwell. I just wonder if he was lying about Kian being inside.”

  “Endra, look,” K’xarr shouted. She looked to where the Camiran pointed. There, thirty feet up, was Kian standing on top of the tower battlements.

  He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of leather leggings and a sword clutched in his hand.

  “Wait, we will find a way to get you down,” she yelled up to him. Kian then simply jumped, landing on his feet like he had just hopped off a horse. Endra started to go to him.

  “Wait, look at him,” K’xarr cautioned.

  Endra saw Kian’s eyes under his wild black hair. They had changed color. Once a soft green, they were now golden with just a slight hint of green, and his pupils were no bigger than the head of a pin in the sunlight.

  He seemed a little taller too. His once lithe body was now much heavier and covered with sinewy muscle. He was also covered with terrible scars. One running from his neck down past the waistband of his leggings. Most of the wounds looked healed, but a few still had stitches in them. He bared his teeth at her. Inside his mouth, she saw two small fangs on top and two smaller ones on the bottom.

  “What have they done to you?” she whispered.

  He looked at her as if he didn’t know her. K’xarr, Cromwell, and Ansel noticed the look in his eye. Their weapons were drawn and they began to circle Kian.

  He watched them from the corner of his eye, his muscles tensing as he looked ready to spring. Endra held up her hand for the others to stop.

  “Kian, it’s me, Endra. Look at me, don’t you know me?” Faster than she had ever seen anyone move, he was on her, grabbing her hair and forcing her to her knees. She looked into his eyes and held both hands up to keep the others back. His eyes looked similar to the eyes of the great cats her father had hunted back in Sorrack.

  He started to raise the sword in his hand. “Kill me if you want, I will still love you. I don’t think even my death could stop that.”

  A look of confusion came across his face and the sword lowered. “That’s it, remember. It’s me, Endra, you love me and I need you to come back to me.”

  “Endra,” he said with a much deeper voice than he once had. “What... Where am I?” He released her hair and she jumped to her feet, beginning to stroke his cheek.

  “It’s going to be all right, you’re here with me and K’xarr and Cromwell. We are going to take you away from this accursed place.”

  She pulled him into her embrace as tears ran down her cheeks. Kian pushed her back. Clutching his head, he let out a terrible scream and collapsed to the ground.

  Endra fell to her knees, pulling his head into her lap. “K’xarr, what has happened to him?” The men gathered around the two.

  “I don’t know, Endra. Let’s just get moving before the wizard returns. We can take him to Rhys, maybe he can help,” K’xarr said, shaken by the half-elf’s state.

  Cromwell shook his head. “The Dark One has changed him into a monster.”

  The look Endra gave Cromwell sent a chill up the Toran’s spine. “Then I will find a way to change him back.”

  The great tan and green pavilion had been set up in the middle of the three armies of Abberdon. King Havalon Taylin of Abberdon had called his sons to council.

  Havalon was dressed in his plate armor, not gilded like many other kings. No, his was serviceable like all the other knights in his army. His green tabard bore the coat of arms of Abberdon: a tan bull’s head flanked by two crossed war hammers.

  He was no longer young. He didn’t possess the narrow waist of his youth, but his shoulders were broad and his arms strong. Havalon was still a very powerful warrior. Gray hair and thick beard, a distinguished looking man to be sure, but it was his icy blue eyes that saw his orders followed to the letter. He could make his servants quake in their boots with a dissatisfied gaze.

  His servants were hurriedly setting up his war table and rolling out a map of Bandara on top of it. He hated the pavilion, the smoke from the braziers made his head ache. He should be on his horse out in the field fighting for the future of Abberdon, not cooped up in this silken den. He had to remind himself that he was a king and had to project an image for his subjects, or he would have put a torch to the whorish pavilion.

  Havalon had never thought of himself as a king, he had always pictured himself as a warrior or conqueror. He had never gotten used to
the grandiosity that came with wearing the crown. However, he did love the power that the crown brought with it.

  Griffyn and Donovan entered the pavilion, both dressed in the same armor as their father. “Hail, Father, what news do you have?” Griffyn said. The king’s thin lips tightened. He was trying to suppress the smile that threatened to spread across his face.

  His wife had died when the boys were very young and he had raised them alone. No servants or nannies, he had done it on his own. His chest swelled with pride when he looked at the two fine warriors standing before him now.

  Griffyn, the oldest, was carefree and fun-loving, but he was all business when it came to a battlefield. He had taken to combat like a duck to water. He had his father’s eyes, but his mother’s straw-colored hair.

  Donovan was younger, but you couldn’t tell it. He was a serious young man and a good general. He was dark haired and powerfully built. Havalon knew he would make a fine king. He would just have to win a kingdom for the boy to rule. Griffyn was his heir, but Donovan deserved a country as well and Bandara would do nicely. Abberdon was his pride, but his boys were his joy. There was nothing in the world he loved more than his sons.

  “Come, look at the map and I will show you how we will defeat young King Cain and his Bandarans.”

  The princes moved over to the table, one on either side of their father. “How long do you think it would take for your armies to drive the Bandarans to Northham?” the king asked.

  “I’m not sure, Cain was just reinforced by Bradford and Fox, and that will give him at least ten thousand fresh troops,” Donovan said.

  “It doesn’t matter how many troops they give him, he is very predictable and any offensive he mounts should be easy to counter. The new King of Bandara lacks imagination, Father. I would not think it would take us long to herd him anywhere,” Griffyn said with confidence.

  Donovan looked over the map then shook his head. “Why Northham, Father? I don’t see the point of it, there is nothing in the town of consequence.”