DAWN OF THE PHOENIX

by A. J. STRICKLER

  The king and his sons watched as the Abberdonian army began to set up camp. Havalon was lost in thought of days long past. He was thinking of his wife. Would he be here if Josephine was still alive? He knew the answer. His late wife would have never stood for her husband being so far away from home. If she had lived to raise her sons, the old king knew they would not be the warriors they were now. She would have had them docile and domesticated. His Josephine was a woman of little ambition, but he had loved her more than anything. He felt a hand shake his shoulder. “Father, did you hear me?”

  “No, Donovan. I was thinking of…other things. What is it?”

  “When do you want the attack to begin?”

  “At first light, tell the men to hurry with the preparations. I don’t want the Bandarans to have time to get any more people or provisions inside the castle.”

  Griffyn chuckled. “Does it matter, Father? We outnumber them nearly twenty to one.”

  Havalon gave his son a stern look. “Everything matters in war, boy. When you ignore the small things, you will soon find during the battle that they will rise up and get your attention. We will leave nothing to chance, now do as I say.”

  “Yes, Father.” The two boys walked away to carry out their father’s orders. He hated to be hard on them, but he loved his sons too much to allow them to be less than diligent in their duties. Josephine would not have approved of that either. She always said people make mistakes, but his dead wife had never been in a battle. There could be no mistakes.

  The Abberdonians attacked the next morning. They had pulled their catapults from Turill with oxen. The Abberdonian siege master had positioned the war machines and Havalon gave the order to begin firing. The target was the gatehouse, it was the fortress’s weakest point. The Abberdonians were hoping to get a lucky shot and sunder the gate. King Havalon knew it might take weeks to batter down the thick walls of Castle Blackthorn, but if he destroyed the gate, he could use his superior numbers to take the castle with fewer losses to his own ranks. The king sat on his warhorse and watched the large stones slam against the castle. “If we get a shot on the gates, have your men ready to attack. Donovan, Griffyn, you have your troops attack the walls with the siege towers and ladders, but wait for my order. I will keep my men in reserve. Now go take your positions.” Both the princes saluted their father. The old king stood with his hands on his hips, watching his sons. As the princes walked away, King Havalon felt a sense of accomplishment. No man deserved to be this proud of his offspring. He had raised his sons well. They would both make fine kings.

  K’xarr joined everyone on the wall. He was still very pale and his bad arm was in a sling. “They’re trying for the gate. If they breach it, they have too many men to hold back,” Rufio said.

  K’xarr looked over the deployment of the Abberdonian King’s troops. “You’re right, Rufio, the gate is his best option. We can give him hell if he comes up the wall, but the main gate is our weak spot and he knows it. If it goes down, we are finished.”

  “Sorry to interrupt, General, but I have the hospital ready inside the castle’s abbey. I know it does no good to say this, but you should limit your activity, General.”

  “I will do my best,” K’xarr said.

  Rhys waved to everyone and headed to the abbey.

  K’xarr looked at the two men who had traveled from Thieves Port with him. There was nothing else he could do. “Cromwell, you and Kian take two hundred men to the gatehouse. If they break through, try and hold it as long as you can.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll hold it until we kill every Abberdonian soldier or until Havalon dies of old age. Whichever comes first,” Cromwell said.

  Kian gave a quick nod. They started for the stairs.

  Endra, now dressed in her armor, stopped Kian. “Be careful and don’t do anything foolish.”

  Kian touched her stomach, gently rubbing his hand against the mail that covered it. “Promise me if you have trouble, you will find Rhys and send for me.”

  She smiled and kissed him quickly. “I promise if I have any pains, I’ll leave the wall.”

  Kian reached over to the battlements where Endra’s helmet sat, picking it up and putting it on her head. The spectacle guard around her eyes and nose made the helmet look almost like a mask. “Keep that on your head.”

  She buckled the chin strap, leaving her raven-black hair to spill out from under it. The big bastard sword she carried slid from its scabbard with ease. With her naked blade and cape fluttering in the breeze, Kian thought she looked every bit like a warrior queen.

  “I will see you soon,” she said softly, touching his face. Kian put his fist to his chest, giving her a mock salute and then heading for the gatehouse.

  Just before noon, the gate burst inward. Splinters of heavy wood flew everywhere. Prince Donovan ordered his men to charge the damaged gate. The first group carried a small ram and smashed what was left of the gate down. The Abberdonians gave a loud cheer, but it was cut short as Kian, sword in hand, and Cromwell, ax at the ready, stepped into the archway of the gatehouse to meet their enemy.

  The gateway was as wide as five men with their arms stretched out. Ax and sword did their deadly work well in the confined space. Bodies of dead Abberdonians began to pile up like cord wood in front of the gate. The two warriors stayed inside the cover of the archway, so only a handful of the soldiers could engage them at any one time. The carnage the two warriors dealt to the Abberdonians was terrible. Blood and gore splashed the walls around the gatehouse and the screams of the dying echoed inside the stone walls of the castle.

  As the Abberdonian troops jammed into the castle’s entrance, the men from the walls fired arrows and threw stones down on them. The Abberdonians were taking heavy casualties and could not find a way to get past the two men holding the gate. Donovan ordered his men back. The gatehouse was a death trap. He needed to pull back and regroup.

  Havalon could not understand why Donovan had not gotten into the castle, it was three hours past noon. He had given his son plenty of time to take the gate. The boy must need a little help. Donovan wouldn’t like it, but he was tired of waiting. He ordered Griffyn to attack the walls, that would do the trick. He would not lose the advantage of having taken down their gate. If he was lucky, he might have the castle by nightfall. Donovan would just have to put up with his brother sharing in the glory of taking the Bluff.

  Cromwell was gulping great breaths of air. As soon as he caught his breath, he would return to the archway with Kian. He had taken several breaks to catch his breath while fresh Bandaran soldiers took his place, but the half-elf had fought on for hours without rest. K’xarr was wrong, the gods had blessed Kian’s sword arm, there was no other explanation for it. He took in one last breath of air and headed back to the gate.

  K’xarr had taken off the sling Rhys had made for him. He knew the healer wouldn’t be happy if he found out. It just couldn’t be helped. They needed every man they could get on the wall. He would just have to risk the healer’s wrath.

  He parried a blow from a young Abberdonian soldier and ran his longsword through the man’s guts. He looked down the wall to see where he was needed the most. Rufio and his Dragitan shortsword were steady as ever. The captain was barking orders at the men, repelling the Abberdonian assault, and they were still holding strong. Endra was beside him, dealing death with her heavy-bladed sword. Given time, the woman would become a magnificent warrior.

  A war hammer came at his head. He was so distracted, he almost didn’t get his guard up in time. He twisted his wrist and slid his sword down the hammer’s handle, burying his blade in the man’s neck. The gate still held and the walls would not be taken today. It would be nightfall soon, and hopefully Havalon would pull back. The first day was near over. They had fought well, but K’xarr knew time just wasn’t on his side.

  Night fell and the Abberdonians launched two more half-hearted attacks after dark that failed. There was no give at the gate. Kian and the men with him still held t
he deadly entryway. The next two days were no different.

  On the morning of the fourth day of the siege, King Havalon called his sons to him. “What is happening out there? You have the entire army, why can’t they take a castle held by less than a thousand men?”

  “I haven’t been able to get enough men on top of the wall, Father, we have been close. After every attack, the Bandarans are fewer, just give me a little more time,” Griffyn said as he wiped the sweat from his face. “If Donovan could put more pressure on the gatehouse, it wouldn’t be so hard for my men to take the wall.” The older prince threw his sweat soaked towel at his younger brother to make his point.

  “You’re not fighting that Toran and the monster,” Donovan said, raising his voice. “We have tried everything. Every day we have to clear the dead just to get at them. If we use bows, they go behind the barricade they built and wait. I have no choice but to send my men in to cross swords with that devil. If you’re so brave, why don’t you clear the gate of those two bastards for me?”

  Havalon held up his hand. “Enough excuses. Griffyn, continue besieging the wall. Donovan, take some of my personal guard with you today and send them in to kill that abomination. My guards are the finest swords in all Abberdon. The half-breed will stand no chance against them. Now go, both of you. Take that castle and stop whining.” The princes saluted their father and walked towards the front. A hard fight was good for them, the king thought. It would make them stronger when they ruled. The half-breed would fall sooner or later and when he did, all he would have to do was capture the queen and hunt down Prince Cain, and Bandara would be his.

  Again, Donovan’s attack stalled at the gate. They saw the king watching in the distance as his Abberdonians fell back, stumbling over each other, and Cromwell was sure Havalon could see his personal guard lying dead at the swordsman’s feet.

  Kian’s hand was covered with blood, making the hilt of his sword slick. He flicked his wrist, sending the excess gore and blood from Malice’s blade to splatter on the ground.

  Cromwell reached down and ripped a tabard off one of the dead men and tossed it to Kian. It bore the symbol of King Havalon, a great bear with crossed war hammers. Kian wiped the blood from Malice’s hilt and his hands then dropped the tabard on the ground in front of him and stomped on it, making sure the Abberdonian soldiers and their king saw him.

  “You are bold, my friend, you should have been born a Toran,” Cromwell said. The half-elf glared coldly at his friend. Cromwell could see the primal fury behind Kian’s eyes. The others didn’t understand, not even Endra, but he did.

  Kian was at war with the beast that lived inside him, and the swordsman was losing. For all his talk of humanity and morality, Kian could not resist the savage soul his brother had put inside him. He was no longer the honorable Sunblade Gildor had taught him to be. In the heat of battle, the half-elf became a merciless killer, and Cromwell could see it was tearing him apart. He felt bad for his friend. He hoped one day Kian could learn to live with the wild spirit that lived within him, but for now it wasn’t so bad to have the ferocious slayer at his side, he thought, as the Abberdonians came on again.

  “K’xarr, help.” He could hear Endra shouting over the battle’s clamor, but he could not see her. K’xarr ran down the battlements to where he had last seen the female fighter. He came upon Endra, lying on the battlement’s blood-stained walkway writhing in pain. K’xarr looked around for help and saw his captain. “Rufio, cover.”

  The Dragitan lead several men down the wall. They surrounded the woman and the general, shielding them as best they could from the battle.

  K’xarr dropped to his knees beside Endra and pulled her helmet off. “Where are you wounded?” he asked, looking over her body.

  She grabbed his wounded arm and squeezed, drawing the general’s attention. “I’m not wounded, it’s the baby.”

  K’xarr and one of the Bandaran soldiers had carried Endra down to the makeshift hospital in the castle’s small abbey. The healer had taken over from there. “How is she, Rhys?”

  “She’ll be fine, K’xarr, but someone should tell Kian. The baby is coming.”

  K’xarr sighed and rubbed his wounded arm. “I need him at the gate, he and Cromwell have stood their ground for days. I don’t want to change our luck now. Can’t the child be born without him?”

  “Of course it can, but Endra said she promised to tell him when the time came.”

  K’xarr thought a moment. “I will bring him when the Abberdonians pull back to regroup.”

  Rhys rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t be too long, the child is coming quickly. There isn’t much time.” K’xarr hurried out of the abbey to fetch the soon-to-be father.

  K’xarr and Kian walked into the abbey together, K’xarr almost pushing the half-elf along. Kian seemed almost frightened. K’xarr thought the birth of his child was scaring the half-elf more than Havalon’s army.

  They went through some makeshift curtains Rhys had put up, so Endra could have some privacy from the wounded Bandarans. Their groaning was the only sound in the large room.

  Rhys held up a hand at K’xarr to stop him from going in any further, the healer looked shaken. He pulled K’xarr to him as Kian passed into the area where Endra lay. “Let him go alone, K’xarr,” Rhys whispered. The general nodded in agreement.

  Kian went to Endra’s side. She laid on a small pallet Rhys made for her on the floor. She looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “As fast as you are, you missed it.”

  “I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay?”

  Endra smiled. "I’m just tired. I want to sleep, Rhys gave me something. He has the baby. He took her away to clean her up. Go see your daughter, my love.”

  Endra’s eyes slowly closed. She had fallen asleep. Kian stroked her hair and held her hand, concern written all over his face.

  “What happened, Rhys?” K’xarr whispered.

  “I gave her a sleeping draught after she had the child. I wanted Kian to see the baby first.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll see, General. Follow me.”

  Rhys led Kian and K’xarr through another set of curtains, where a small makeshift crib had been placed. The three men walked slowly towards it and gazed in. The tiny girl lay curled into a ball. She had small upswept ears like her father. Her eyes were closed and her head lay on her tiny hands. Her body was covered with very fine, light-colored hair, yet the hair on her head was long and dark, and it fell all the way down to her small shoulders.

  She opened her eyes as if she sensed the men. The child’s eyes were big, golden, and full of life.

  The little girl stretched and yawned, displaying a mouth full of kitten like teeth. The baby uncurled and stood up in her crib on shaky legs, startling the three men. She blinked at Kian. The swordsman reached down for her. The girl sniffed his hand, then raised her arms.

  The half-elf picked her up and cradled her in his arms. K’xarr shrugged. “At least she doesn’t have a tail.”

  “K’xarr, really,” Rhys scolded.

  Kian looked at his daughter with pride. “I think she is perfect.”

  He played with the little girl for an hour until she had fallen back asleep. “When Endra awakes, I will return,” Kian told Rhys. “Is K’xarr gone?”

  “Yes, I think he went back to the wall.” the healer said.

  “I need to find him. I need to leave the castle,” Kian said as he handed his sleeping daughter to Rhys.

  “Why, where are you going?”

  “To end this war.”

  Rufio watched as Kian walked out alone towards the Abberdonian camp. “Do you think this is a good idea, General?”

  K’xarr readjusted the sling on his arm. “I don’t know, Rufio, but he was determined to do it. He wouldn’t tell me what he wanted to talk to Havalon about, though. Once he gets something in his head, a horse can’t kick it loose.”

  Rufio folded his arms. He could see Kian enter the Abberdonian camp under a ma
keshift flag of truce. “He is a scary man, General. I don’t think I would want to be in Havalon’s shoes about now, even though Kian is unarmed.”

  “Aye, keep an eye on the camp, Captain. If there’s any disturbance or it looks like trouble, send Kian whatever help he needs. I’m going to let Rhys take a look at my arm while I have the chance.”

  Rufio put fist to chest in salute. “Yes, General.”

  K’xarr headed off to see the healer, and Rufio turned his attention back to the camp. He had met with Havalon before; the king was no fool. Kian was taking a big risk going to see the old man. He wished he could be down there to see what kind of reception the Abberdonians were going to give the half-breed.

  King Havalon had agreed to see this freak of nature only because Donovan had told him such fantastic things about it and he was curious. He too had watched as it destroyed half of his personal guard. He was very interested in what kind of being could do such a thing. Maybe he could find a weakness to defeat the beast.

  Havalon leaned back in his bearskin-covered chair, flanked by his sons, as his guards brought the swordsman in.

  It was dressed in dark leggings and a simple black, sleeveless shirt. The thing sported a pair of dark iron bracers and a black cloak draped over its wide shoulders.

  The creature walked in and kneeled before the Abberdonian King. At least it showed proper respect, Havalon thought.

  The half-elf’s dark hair hung loose and fell to his shoulders, but it was its eyes that Havalon couldn’t take his gaze away from. They were like the great cats he had hunted in his youth, golden and predatory.

  “Majesty, I thank you for seeing me.”

  It spoke well, Havalon thought. “You may rise.” The king gestured for Kian to stand up. The monster had come unarmed to the meeting. Havalon had been surprised at this, given what Donovan had told him about the killer. “I must be honest with you, half-breed, my stance is the same as the Church’s on your kind. You are an abomination that should be destroyed. Under most circumstances, I would not bother to even speak with you or observe the tenets of a flag of truce, but the messenger said you wanted to talk about putting an end to the hostilities. Does K’xarr wish to surrender?”