DAWN OF THE PHOENIX

by A. J. STRICKLER

  He motioned and the light floating beside him came closer. The wizard peered down into the sarcophagus expecting to see the desiccated corpse of the Phoenix Queen. Instead he saw a comely middle-aged woman dressed in red and gold armor, looking as if she was peacefully sleeping.

  A sword in a red scabbard lay clutched in her hands, the pommel of the thin-bladed longsword was a golden phoenix. He slowly unwrapped her lifeless fingers from sword’s hilt and slid the weapon through his belt. The famous sword of the Phoenix Queen would make a fine addition to his collection.

  When he touched it, he could sense its magic, but it wasn't enough to be the thing he was looking for. There was something else in the casket that was much more powerful. He could feel it.

  He looked again and his sharp eyes caught something; he motioned the light back and dimmed it just a little. The wizard saw a faint dark glow coming from under the dead queen’s arm. Turning her body slightly, he removed a small stoppered vial of dark liquid.

  His magical senses reeled from the power inside the tiny bottle. Its power was not a power created by a sorcerer. It was something else, something beyond magic. A grin spread across his face, tucking the vial inside his robe. He turned to leave, when a slight noise caused him to look back.

  The queen had sat up in her sarcophagus, her auburn hair spilling over her shoulders. Slowly her head turned towards him until she gazed into his eyes.

  Startled but unafraid, he turned to face her; this was not his first encounter with the undead. “What you intend with that will not bring you what you want, evil one.” Her voice sounded soft, but she spoke with great authority.

  “How do you know what I want?”

  The queen gave him an ironic smile. “The dead know many things. If you use what you have stolen, the consequences will be dire. You will alter the fate of this world and your destiny will be forever changed. What you intend to do cannot be undone, sorcerer. You have been warned.”

  The queen lay back down in her sarcophagus. He walked over and looked in, wanting to know more, but he found that the queen was gone and only a dried up corpse now rested in her armor. “Thank you for the warning, Your Majesty,” the wizard said as he slid the lid back to cover the renowned monarch. “I wish I could heed it.”

  No one could remember it ever being so cold. Even the old men and women of the kingdom could not remember such a bitter wind. Winter had come early to Bandara, and already over two feet of snow covered the ground outside the walls of Turill.

  K’xarr couldn’t sleep. He stood on top of the wall looking down on Havalon’s camp. It was still hours before the attack, but he was just too tense to rest. There was a stiff breeze on top of the wall and he had seen the sentries shivering when he passed them earlier.

  He knew the cold had to be hard on the soldiers of Abberdon as well as the Bandarans. The Abberdonians had built rough barracks out of the wood that was left over after building their siege towers and catapults. It made the camp look like a small town. There were not enough of the crude buildings to house all of the Abberdonian soldiers. Many of the foreign troops only had the protection of tents to keep out the cold and the biting wind. They had tromped down the snow throughout the camp, making the ground hard and slick. The enemy was having a miserable time of it. So much the better, K’xarr thought.

  Their king must be a hard man. There was no sign he would ride back to Abberdon and return in the spring. Too much could change by spring. Havalon would not give up his position. If he left and returned in the spring, the old king knew he might have to fight his way back to Turill. No, he would stay and suffer through the winter. He would not give up the ground he had already won.

  The weather would work to the Bandaran’s advantage. Havalon’s troops were cold, hungry, and discontent, and they would not be expecting an attack in this kind of weather. The Bandaran troops didn’t like it, but at least they had the shelter of the city to keep them warm until they had to ride out against their enemy. They also knew the attack was coming. The Abberdonians would not be ready, if the Gods were merciful. K’xarr knew he was taking a big gamble, but it was his only chance. At least, the only one he could think of.

  He remembered when he was growing up in Camir, the raids he went on with his father and the other warriors of his village; this cold was mild compared to the winter nights in the mountains of his homeland. He remembered how the blood had frozen on the dead and wounded, and how you could watch the dying exhale their last breath into the cold night air.

  It was on a night like that he had killed his mother and father, even now he pushed the thoughts from his mind, not wanting to remember the blood that stained his hands. He had never told anyone, even Cromwell knew nothing about the night he murdered his family.

  It didn’t matter now, he was a general, at least in name. In a few hours he would see if he could earn the title. There was a battle to win and no time for thoughts of things he couldn’t ever change.

  He would carry out his plan and damn his doubts to hell. He had never second guessed his instincts before and he wasn’t about to start now. If this was to be his only battle as a general, then he would make it a glorious one.

  He turned and headed back down into the city. He had just enough time to eat and put his armor on. By the time the sun rose on a new day, he would know what kind of commander he was.

  William Blackthorn sat in his room drinking a cup of warm wine with his feet in front of a nice fire. The man he knew as the Dark One stood before him with one hand on the mantle above his fireplace. “I have set things in motion in Turill. When this K’xarr attacks in the morning, and I have it on good authority he will, events might not go as he planned.”

  “How can helping Havalon help me?” the duke asked.

  “I’m not helping Havalon. I’m making it hard for the little queen to win. The only one that my actions will benefit is you.

  “This Camiran, he is young and daring, a full out winter attack might truly hurt the King of Abberdon. Hopefully what I have done will hurt them both,” the wizard gurgled.

  “I hope you’re right. I just don’t see how one man can do that much, even if he is a wizard.”

  “All I had to do was deliver a message to your men in your name, the rest is up to them. I promised if what was in the tomb of the Phoenix Queen was useful to me, I would help you. It was and I have. Now I must go. I have a mission of my own that will aid us both as well.” The wizard vanished without a sound.

  The duke pulled his fur robe tighter, he had a chill and it wasn’t from the cold.

  She pulled the last strap tight on her armor and picked up the helmet she had chosen from the armory. It was plain and unadorned, but it offered good protection with its cheek plates and nasal guard. Endra hoped it would do, she had never been in a battle before. Unlike most of the Harsh Coast, the Sorrackans didn’t raid their neighbors’ villages or into other lands.

  She could handle a weapon and defend herself, but this would be different. Before she had only fought to defend her children, now Endra would be among thousands of men trying to kill each other.

  The very thought of it scared her a little, but she was determined to do her part. That was not what was really troubling her. It was what Rhys had told her the day before.

  “Endra, you look a little pale, would you like me to give you a look over?” She had not felt well the last few days so she agreed. When he finished, he told her the news.

  “You’re with child, my dear. I hope that’s good news. The baby should come in the early spring if not before.”

  Endra looked at him, eyes wide. “That can’t be, that would make the child born too soon, after only a few months.”

  Rhys frowned. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded frantically. “Yes, Kian is the only one I have been with.”

  Rhys felt her abdomen again. “The baby is small, you can hardly tell by looking at you that you’re with child. I just thought it might be normal for you to gain very little weight."<
br />
  She told him about the birth of her other children and that they too were born much sooner than normal.

  “Let me do a couple of tests,” Rhys said. “There is just so much I don’t know about this dark blood. Maybe I can come up with something.”

  Later in the day, Rhys had come to her with what he had found. “The baby is growing rapidly. I have no explanation for it other than the magic that was used on Kian or your blood or a combination of the two. It’s the only reason I can come up with for the abnormality. I want you to be prepared, Endra, the child may be…irregular. Half-elves are known to be sterile by their nature, they are hybrids and unable to breed, so it’s a miracle that you became pregnant in the first place. This will not be a normal birth, I’m afraid. You must make sure I’m there when the time comes.”

  She had thanked him and left. Rhys was a very kind man, but he had frightened her. What was growing in her belly? Returning to her room, she agonized over what to do. Finally she decided not to tell Kian until after the battle, she didn’t want him to stop her from fighting by his side. Endra knew he would not allow it if he found out about the child. No, she would wait, it would be for the best. She dried her eyes, belted on her sword, and went to find her swordsman.

  “Just drink it down fast, you won’t taste it that way.”

  The queen shook her head. “It smells awful, are you sure it will work?”

  Rhys put his hand on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “I wouldn’t give it to you if I didn’t think it would work.”

  She tipped her head back and downed the healer’s brew as fast as she could. It gagged her a bit, but she kept it down. She could feel the burning in her belly subside as the concoction slid down.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you, my dear, you are a miracle worker. Are you really going down to the wall today?”

  Rhys sighed. “We’ve already talked about this; K’xarr said he would need every healer in the city down there, and I said I would take charge of overseeing the wounded. From what he told me, I should be back by nightfall.”

  Raygan squirmed in her chair, trying to get comfortable. “I’m worried, Rhys. What if the battle goes all wrong? What if we lose? What if the Abberdonians get into the city, will I be taken prisoner?”

  “Raygan, we have been over this, remember? You’re the queen, others will look to you for strength. You can’t allow your personal fears to show. You are Raygan Albana Blackthorn, the Phoenix Queen of Bandara.” He watched pride fill the young woman’s eyes. Sometimes she just needed to be reminded of who she was.

  “The Phoenix of Bandara fears nothing,” she said, trying to sound fierce.

  Rhys walked over to the queen’s bed, picking up his cloak and slinging it around his shoulders. “I wouldn’t worry anyway. K’xarr might be young, but he seems to know what he’s about.” He picked up his satchel and checked to see if everything was in order. “Well, I better get going, it won’t be long now.” He knelt down beside her, taking her hands in his and kissing them both. “I will see you soon, lay down and get some rest if you can.”

  She caressed his face gently. “Please, be careful and promise you won’t go beyond the wall.”

  Rhys stood and kissed her softly on the lips. “I have no intention of going anywhere near the fighting.”

  Raygan smiled at him. “Come back to me soon.”

  He turned and opened the door of her room. “I will see you tonight, promise.” He walked out and shut the door softly. He hadn’t taken two steps before he stopped. He had a bad feeling. Rhys turned and started to go back into the queen’s room. He stopped himself and smirked. He had never been superstitious and he was not going to start now. Everything would be fine. The young healer turned and walked on down the hall, not knowing how wrong he was.

  “There, that makes me feel better.” It had taken some time to talk Kian into putting on a light chainmail shirt under the black leather jerkin he wore.

  “It will slow me down, but if it makes you happy, I’ll wear it.”

  She fastened his cloak back around his shoulders. “It does. Now, how about a helmet?”

  He shook his head. “No helmet.”

  Endra knew there wasn’t time to argue with him about it, so she just nodded her compliance.

  The palace armory was cold and she was anxious, time was growing short. K’xarr was planning on attacking just before dawn and that was not far off. Kian seemed no more concerned as if he was going for a ride in the country.

  “I wanted to wake the children and tell them goodbye, but they were sleeping so sound I just couldn’t do it. Nick Nock is staying with them until we return. The cook seems to be a good man. Besides, he has already experienced their unpleasant antics.” Endra knew he was listening to her, but you couldn’t tell it by looking at the swordsman. It was very irritating that he could focus on several things at once.

  Kian pulled Malice from its scabbard and looked the ominous blade over. She didn’t like that sword, it made her uneasy and she really didn’t know why.

  “They will be fine, you will see them tonight. Nick Nock will see to their needs. They seem fond of the cook,” he said confidently.

  “You seem very sure. What if something happens? This is a war and none of us are immortal.”

  He slid the sword back into its scabbard and fixed his cat-like eyes on hers. “You are a good fighter, Endra, you have nothing to worry about. Just stay close to me.”

  She hugged him and he held her close. She almost told him about the baby, but held it back. “You make everything sound so simple. Neither one of us has ever been in a real battle before, what do you think it will be like?”

  He pushed her back gently. He looked at her the way he had before the tower. It was only for a moment, but she had seen it. Then the darkness seeped back in. “We will ride out and men will die.”

  “All right, Greyson, you will lead the troops from the Bluff, most of them are mounted and more experienced than the recruits from the city, so you will be the spearhead of the attack. I’m sending Vandarus with you as your second in command.

  “Rufio, you take the left wing of cavalry. That’s two thousand of the recruits. So, you may have to lead them by the nose. Cromwell and I will take the right. Kian, Endra, you ride with Rufio. Try not to get too far ahead of the infantry. Keep your mounted troops at a walk until the signal is given to charge. This only works if we all attack together.

  “Engage, kill as many of them as you can, then as the sun rises, head back to the city. And if the gods are with us, we will slam the gates shut in their faces and the archers on the wall will get a few flights of arrows off before they turn back.” He paused a moment, letting his orders sink in.

  “Remember, once the Abberdonians get to the wall, the gate will close. We can’t take a chance of them gaining control of the gatehouse, make sure you get back before Havalon’s troops do.”

  “We know all this. It’s the third time you told us. We strike, just like the raids back home,” Cromwell said with a sly grin.

  K’xarr slowly turned to face him. “Some of my commanders have thick skulls, so I feel the need to repeat myself. Greyson, are the men in position and ready?”

  “They are, General, and already complaining about the cold.”

  K’xarr nodded. “They will warm up soon enough. Let’s go and may the gods be kind.”

  Greyson Kyle walked to his horse; he hated what he had to do. He didn’t like K’xarr, but for a man with no experience in command, he had done well. But the wizard had been clear on what the duke wanted of him.

  If Ansellus would have put him in command, things might be different, but he didn’t. He let the queen put this barbaric outlander in charge. Greyson was loyal to Bandara, but only to a point. He would never gain any renown under the queen. That was obvious. He had served the duke a long time, no sense stopping now. Besides, under the duke, he would be promoted. Perhaps if he did well enough, Blackthorn may even have the
king make him a lord.

  Without the men from the Bluff, K’xarr didn’t have a chance in hell of holding Turill until Ansellus returned. With any luck, the duke would be back in control of Turill by summer and Greyson would be back in command.

  The commanders joined their troops. The snow was deep and would slow their advance, but there was nothing that could be done about that. K’xarr hoped they could start the attack before Havalon’s men could form their ranks. It was little more than a mile to their sentries, but the Abberdonians were well trained. He had to just hope the winter attack would catch them off guard.

  He mounted his horse and joined Cromwell on the right. He wanted to lead the wedge, but he knew that he and Cromwell didn’t have the experience the Bandaran did on horseback, and Greyson knew what he was doing. K’xarr didn’t like the man, but Greyson had shown he was efficient.

  He just kept running every variable over and over in his head. He had to stop, there was nothing left to do but signal the advance. Time would tell if he had done the right thing in ordering the attack. If he had misjudged, the city would be lost before dinner and he would be dead.

  King Havalon’s personal guard had built him a small cabin. It was better than a tent, but still cold as hell. He couldn’t wait until spring when the fighting started. The Church’s rule of no winter combat was inconvenient, but they were right about it being inhuman on the troops. The Church had decreed many years ago that God didn’t want his children to make war in the bleak winter months. Very few kings or generals had complained about the new edict. Most armies didn’t have any desire to battle in the cold anyway, so everyone had agreed with God.

  Havalon was a man that was usually up with the sun. His aides seldom needed to wake the old warrior, however the cold kept him in the warmth of his blankets this morning. Besides, the sun wasn’t up yet. Maybe he was just getting too old for these campaigns. Next time he would leave the conquest to his sons. He would stay home in his capital Tarthis, next to the great fireplace he had built in his quarters, and drink warm wine and let his boys do the fighting. The king had just drifted off to sleep again when he was startled awake by the sound of battle. Dressed only in his night clothes, he threw back his covers and sprang to his feet. He opened the door to the biting cold of the predawn. His army’s camp fires blazed everywhere. The fire light made it hard to see, but he could tell the camp was under attack. The queen’s general had attacked under the cover of darkness in knee deep snow, was he mad?