DAWN OF THE PHOENIX

by A. J. STRICKLER

  Surprise showed on the creature’s face.

  The king gave an icy grin. “Yes, word was sent that he escaped from Turill. It is of little importance, he will soon be recaptured or killed.”

  “I don’t speak for K’xarr or the Queen of Bandara. I am here only for myself.”

  King Havalon sat forward in his chair. The princes both looked at each other, appalled by this half-breed’s nerve. “You mean to tell me that you weren’t sent to me by K’xarr or the girl queen? How dare you ask for an audience with me without any authority. You have no power to negotiate any Bandaran surrender.”

  Kian looked at the king and both princes. “I’m not here to talk about a Bandaran surrender. I don’t think K’xarr or the queen will ever surrender to you. I’m here to ask you if you would simply leave Bandara in peace. I have a woman I love within the walls of this castle and a newborn child, and there are several other little ones I am responsible for. I ask you to just take what you have and go in peace.”

  The Abberdonians were silent a moment, then burst out laughing. “Are you completely mad? Did you just say you want us to abandon the conquest of Bandara when our victory is all but secured and go back to Abberdon just because you asked us to?” The men continued to chuckle. “Guards, get him out of here." Two guards stepped forward, one on each side of the swordsman.

  “Wait, Majesty, before you reject my request, I must tell you that if you don’t leave, I will do what I must to defend this castle and the people inside.”

  King Havalon stroked his beard. “Do whatever you must, half-breed. Now go. I should have never given you audience in the first place. Abberdon will be the only victor here.”

  Kian bowed his head, true regret in his voice. “There are more important things than victory, great king, remember that I gave you fair warning.”

  “Your deformities don’t frighten me, elven scum. Get that thing out of here before I forget I’m a man of God and cease to honor his flag of truce.” Kian let the guards take him by the arms to be led out. Behind him, he could hear the princes laughing.

  “We should have never honored the flag of truce anyway, Father, he’s not even human.” Griffyn walked up and spit on the ground near Kian’s feet. “We will have your woman, monster, and throw your children from the walls when we take the fortress.”

  Kian looked over his shoulder at the Abberdonian King. Havalon could see the rage in its eyes. “Get that thing away from me,” the king shouted. The guards led Kian back out into the camp.

  King Havalon decided then that he would let his son carry out his threats when this arrogant creature was dead. He would have its devil family killed when he breached the walls of Castle Blackthorn. The Church would look kindly on the act and it would please him to do it as well. It was time to finish the queen and her monster. Then he could turn his attention to bringing the rest of Bandara to its knees.

  Endra watch in awe as the little girl ate the ground meat Rhys had given her. When she finished the meat, the child nuzzled Endra’s ample breast.

  “She wishes to nurse,” Rhys said.

  Endra looked at him, eyes wide. “I know what she wishes, but have you seen her teeth? We have to find another way.” Endra gently pushed the girl away from her breast and began to stroke the child’s lovely dark hair. “By all that’s holy, Rhys, I think I hear her purring”

  The healer rubbed his chin, ignoring the woman. “Well, we could try to put some cow milk in a water bladder and let her suckle, that might work. Frankly, Endra, this is all new to me. I don’t know what should be done.”

  “And you think I do?” Endra tried to hold the child, but the little girl squirmed away from her, still trying to get at her mother’s breast. “By the gods, she’s trying to devour me.”

  Rhys covered his mouth, knowing Endra would not find his laugher amusing. “She is beautiful, look at her features and those eyes. If not for the body hair and teeth, she would look like a sweet half-elven child.”

  Endra picked up the girl and looked into her golden eyes. “You are going to be handful, aren’t you?” The baby smiled and snuggled herself against her mother’s neck. A tear slowly ran down Endra’s cheek.

  “Kian said she was perfect,” Rhys said, trying to comfort the emotional young woman.

  “Did he say where he was going?” Endra asked as she pulled the infant from her neck and cradled the child in her arms.

  “He said he was going to stop the war or some crazy thing.”

  Endra looked distressed then her eyes grew wide. “Rhys, he’s afraid for the child. He plans to protect her any way he can.” The young mother bowed her head. “May the gods be merciful.”

  Rhys gently touched her shoulder. “I’m sure he will be fine.”

  Endra took the healer’s hand in hers. “It’s not him I fear for, it’s Havalon and the Abberdonians.”

  The sky was dark, there would be a storm today. The rain would be cold, the wind would blow, and the sky would rage. Already the men of both kingdoms could hear thunder in the distance.

  The rain would affect how they fought. The ground would be slick, and a misstep could cost a man his life. Their weapons would be hard to hold on to, wet with the rain they could easily slide out of a warrior’s hand and leave the man defenseless. Experience would play a large role in the battle today. Those who had fought in these kinds of conditions before would have the advantage.

  The weather was not what would be different for many of the warriors arrayed around Castle Blackthorn this day. What would make this battle unique was that the God of War had come to watch.

  Fane smiled, it would be a good day. The God of War loved unconventional combat. Rain, snow, and hail, the weather could make battles much more interesting. It had been centuries since last he took part in a battle, and it felt good to once again take the field.

  He glanced at the blonde goddess standing by his side, frowning with her arms folded across her plentiful chest. “Why are you even here, Syann? You have never been one to enjoy bloodshed. It must be my company you crave.”

  She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Fane was not unhandsome, dark hair pulled back in a warrior’s braid, beard full like the northern warriors of the Harsh Coast, and he was encased in his elaborate red armor from head to toe. She had always liked it.

  No, he was not unhandsome, but he was arrogant, vain, and lecherous. She hated him. “I have taken an interest in some of the men that will fight today. That’s why I am here.”

  Fane grinned like a wolf. “I see. I was informed that some of the warriors defending the castle are of some account, they might even be hearty enough to survive your, uh…charms.”

  Syann glared at the War God. “I’m not interested in them in that way. They are being used as pawns, and I don’t like it. Besides, I thought we had all decided it was best if we didn’t satisfy our carnal pleasures with humans?”

  Fane set his great helmet on the ground near his feet and gripped the blood-red hilt of his sword. “Pawns are needed as well as all the other pieces on the board, my dear. They serve their purpose, and you’re fooling yourself if you think everyone is staying out of the human beds.”

  He stepped closer to the blonde woman and put his gauntleted hand on the small of her back. “Maybe we could take care of each other’s pleasures, if you’re willing, Syann. I have heard things about you, my dear. I would be very interested to find out if the stories are true.”

  The blonde woman drew her silver sword with lightening speed, but Fane blocked the blow with his armored hand. “Just like your father, so quick to kill. Besides, it was just a suggestion, no need to be offended.”

  Syann sheathed her blade. “If my father was free, you would not have made that ‘suggestion,’ Uncle.”

  The God of War frowned and stepped away from her. “That might be true, but he is not here to defend your precious honor anymore, Syann. Perhaps you should tread a little lighter now that he is gone.”

  The God of War looked t
o the sky and raised his arms. “It is time, Daughter of Death. Behold the power of war.” Thunder crashed and blood began to flow from his out stretched hands. It spread out all across the ground. The red stain didn’t stop until it had covered all the ground around Braxton Bluff. The land itself seemed to bleed. Fane had always chosen to manifest his power in the form of blood.

  Syann was glad the humans could not see the river of gore that flowed towards them or hear the pompous War God’s cries.

  “Let this battle honor the immortals,” Fane shouted. “Let the swords sing and the blood flow like wine, I, Fane, God of War, shall watch this battle. Who among you shall win the right to come with me to Vinteytium and have their name carved into the wall of heroes?”

  So overdone, Syann thought. Even though the humans could not truly hear him or see his power, she watched as Fane’s influence began to incite bloodlust in those who would do battle this day. The power was subtle, but it would affect the warriors on both sides. There would be no mercy shown this day, the War God would see to that. Fane was no different than her mother, they just couldn’t stop. When would they realize their time was over?

  “Do you think this is a good idea, Kian? If we attack, we’ll lose the shelter of the gatehouse and the Abberdonians will come at us from all sides. I don’t think these Bandarans are ready for that kind of fight, too many of them have seen very little action.”

  Kian slid Malice from the scabbard at his side. “It’s a chance I must take. When I move forward, try to cover my back if you can, and, Cromwell, be careful. I have too few friends to lose one.”

  The two men took their positions in the archway, flanked by the remaining Bandarans that had been assigned to hold the gate.

  “Did you tell K’xarr what you were planning?” Cromwell asked.

  Kian looked over his shoulder at the Toran. Cromwell knew then that K’xarr had no idea what was about to happen.

  King Havalon felt comfortable in his armor, sitting astride his huge black warhorse. This was how he was meant to live. A conqueror, a ruler of nations, a warrior king. After Bandara fell, he would have the beginnings of an empire. He could die happy, knowing he had left his sons a legacy they could build on. The Abberdonian Empire, it had a nice ring to it.

  He had decided to take what remained of his body guard out with Donovan and help the lad get rid of that impertinent half-breed. The swordsman’s skill did not frighten the King of Abberdon. The thing could die just like any man. Today, he would show his son how to slay that beast.

  Thunder crashed and the king looked to the sky. It was going to be a wet battle. He hopped the rain would not affect his archers' aim too much.

  The Abberdonians marched through the city. The people of Braxton Bluff had given them little trouble. King Havalon had ordered his men to treat the people well and leave their women alone. It would not help their cause to have the populace any angrier about their city being occupied by foreign troops than they already were.

  The streets were muddy from the rain and the Abberdonian’s boots were heavy with it by the time they got to the castle. The rain was coming down harder, but it hadn’t stopped the crows from picking at the dead bodies that littered the killing ground in front of the castle walls.

  Prince Griffyn had begun the attack by assaulting the walls. The twin siege towers were rolled forward and butted against the castle. Individual ladders rose from the ground and men began to make their way to the top of the battlements. The attack was timid, his father had told Griffyn he need only keep the defenders on the wall busy so K’xarr could not send men to reinforce his soldiers at the gate. Griffyn did his job well, his men were giving the Bandarans a hard way to go on the blood-stained wall. Now the men in the gatehouse would get no help from their upstart general.

  King Havalon ordered the attack to commence on the gate. Pikes were used first. The Abberdonians hoped to draw out the half-breed and his men so his archers could do their work.

  The plan, however, did not seem to be working. The Bandarans stayed huddled behind their shields inside the archway like a pack of wolfs, and they were using crossbows to fend off the pike men. The wily old king decided to change his tactics. “Donovan, take the archers up and have them fire into the archway.”

  “Father, I have tried that, they just get behind their shield wall until we stop firing.”

  “Just do what I say, boy, get up there with the archers, fire five volleys to drive them back, and then I will signal a full attack. They won’t have time to change position for the assault.”

  Donovan saluted and marched the archers forward. Havalon, still on his horse, led the heavy infantry to take position behind his archers. It would take a little time for the heavily armored troops to form ranks for the assault. If he timed it right, they would be ready the moment the archers fired their fifth volley. This time he would have that gate.

  “They’re pulling the pike men back and the prince is bringing up his archers,” Cromwell said.

  Kian looked over the battlefield, apprising distances.

  “Shield wall,” Cromwell shouted.

  “No, we attack before the bowmen have time to fire in unison. Ready the men.”

  “Are you mad, Kian? We have less than two hundred men! There are thousands of Abberdonian heavy infantry coming up. What purpose will it serve to attack the archers?”

  Kian grabbed Cromwell by the arm. “We must be fast, hit them and then back to the gate. I need just a little time; they won’t be ready for us to attack. Their archers will be vulnerable and unprepared. I will not get a better chance.”

  “Chance to do what?” Cromwell said, flustered. Kian did not answer, he took a deep breath and prepared himself.

  Three hundred archers began to form lines in front of the gate as the Abberdonian’s heavy infantry still marched forward from the rear to reinforce them. “I can wait no longer, Cromwell, it must be now.” Kian burst from the cover of the gatehouse’s archway.

  “Damn it. Come on, you dogs, attack.” With a Toran battle cry, Cromwell and the Bandarans charged out behind the half-elf.

  The swordsman’s speed was too much for them to keep pace. Kian was among the archers before Cromwell and the others were halfway there.

  Kian made Malice whirl as he moved through the archer’s lightly armored ranks. They hadn’t time to even nock their first arrow when the swordsman came among them. The bowmen were still trying to draw their shortswords and hand-axes moments later when the Bandarans hit their ranks. Confused by the sudden attack, they were cut down by the dozens.

  Neither Prince Donovan nor his father were ready for such a foolhardy move. The king ordered the heavy infantry to charge forward. They trudged ahead as fast as they could, but there were so many of them that their numbers and the weather worked against their advance. Greatly slowed by the mud and rain, the Abberdonian heavy infantry could only watch as their archers were slaughtered. His infantry was useless at the moment. Their heavy armor caused them to stumble and stagger as they tried to run through the encumbering muck. Havalon could see he would not get to the archers in time.

  Prince Donovan could see his father’s strategy had failed. No one had even entertained the idea that the Bandarans would break from the safety of the gatehouse.

  Donovan drew his sword as he moved back. There was nothing to do but try to join his father and the infantry. The two companies of archers were all but lost. He gave one final look in the bowmen’s direction, then he turned to find his father. What he found was the half-breed standing right in front of him. The young prince was startled by the savage warrior and slipped in the mud. He quickly regained his footing and raised his sword for a great cut at the half-elf’s head. He was dead before his arm could even swing forward, pierced through the throat by the half-breed’s blade. The prince’s sword fell from his hand as he went down face-first into the cold mud.

  King Havalon’s scream of anguish could be heard over the thunder.

  “Back to the gate, back t
o the gate,” Cromwell bellowed. The Toran now understood that Kian had intended to kill the prince the entire time.

  Kian struck the head from the dead prince’s body. He reached down and picked it up by its hair, dashing back towards the gatehouse.

  The few remaining Abberdonian archers began to fire arrows at the fleeing soldiers. Some of the Bandarans were hit, the wet ground making it too hard for them to fall back with much speed.

  By the time they reached the gatehouse, a third of the Bandarans that followed Kian out of the gatehouse were dead. “Prepare for an attack,” Kian yelled, holding the prince’s bloody head in his hand.

  “I don’t know how this will break the siege,” Cromwell said, shaking his head. “Havalon will be in a rage. He will throw everything he has against us now.”

  “Just hold the gate, Cromwell, as long as you can. You must not let them break you,” Kian commanded

  Cromwell looked around at the muddy men surrounding him. Most were still trying to catch their breath from the sprint back. “I have just over a hundred men left. I won’t be able to hold long. Whatever you’re going to do, be quick about it.”

  Kian started out of the gatehouse toward the interior of the castle. “I will make it as quick as I can, my friend,” the swordsman said as he disappeared into the gloom of the castle.

  Cromwell looked out into the rain at the heavy Abberdonian infantry coming towards the gate. “For my honor, I will hold until my last breath, but for you, Arradar, if need be, I will hold a little longer.”