DAWN OF THE PHOENIX

by A. J. STRICKLER

  Two months after the Battle of Turill, the queen summoned Rhys to her private chamber. They had not seen each other alone since the night of the battle. “I’m feeling unwell lately, Rhys, can you please take a look?”

  The healer smiled at her and began the examination. “I have missed you,” she whispered in his ear.

  “Highness, you don’t have to say anything. I understand the situation.”

  Raygan cupped his face in her hands. “Do you? I love you, Rhys Morgan. I think I have since the first day I saw you. Remember? You came to fix my nose.”

  The healer blushed. “Of course I remember.”

  "This is killing me. I don’t love Talorn. It’s you I love, but I just can’t cast him aside. He is Corwin’s father and the people’s king.”

  Rhys looked at her sadly. “I told you I understand. It’s not your fault, it is just the way things are.”

  Raygan took him by the hand. “I’ve been thinking, we could see each other from time to time when the king is performing his duties elsewhere. We could find a country home and meet there. I must find a way to have you in my life.”

  Rhys gently touched her on the arm. “I’m leaving with K’xarr when he goes, Highness, and I suggest you find a way to start loving your husband. You are with child again.”

  “Oh my God, Rhys, are you sure?” Rhys quickly threw his instruments into his satchel. Raygan could see he was upset. He started for the door, then turned back to her. “I love you, Raygan. I… I wish things were different.” He opened the door and walked out.

  A single tear rolled down the queen’s cheek. She was a fool to think he would go along with a royal affair. Rhys was a better man than that.

  She decided then and there that she wouldn’t tell him she had not been with Talorn since he returned and the child she carried was his.

  Kian rode out alone from the city. He felt a need for solitude. K’xarr had asked him to leave Turill at the end of the summer. The Camiran still wanted to form a mercenary company. They had argued. Kian said he would like to travel with the former general, but didn’t want to be a mercenary. Fighting for pay wasn’t something he wanted to do. K’xarr had gotten angry and told him that only fools fight for free. Kian had walked away from the dispute, leaving K’xarr brooding.

  The truth was Kian didn’t know how long he would stay with his friends. The vision from the forest still haunted him. The ghost had told him he would never know peace. Even now the people of Turill referred to him as the Slayer. Was death and blood all his future held? If he felt he was endangering any of his companions, he wanted to be able to leave without any obligations. He would not have any of them hurt because of what he felt lay ahead for him. He would go with them when they left Bandara, but staying was another matter. It would destroy him to leave Endra, but better that than having to watch her die. He needed to think on things before he made any decision.

  The half-elf found a beautiful lake near a small stand of timber and sat down. The still of the evening made the surface of the water look like a mirror. He took a deep breath. His thoughts turned to Gildor, his mother, and Elu. All those he had lost. He had avenged none of them, and it weighed heavily on his mind.

  “You seem very melancholy, swordsman.” Kian didn’t turn. He knew the voice, and he hadn’t heard anyone approach.

  “My thoughts were with the dead, Syann, and deeds left undone.”

  The woman sat down beside him. She was dressed in a sleeveless white gown and her light blonde hair fell loose over her sun-bronzed shoulders. Kian looked her up and down, surprised how different she looked without her armor. The goddess was intoxicatingly beautiful.

  “I don’t always dress like a warrior,” the goddess said as if she had read his mind.

  “What do you want of me?”

  Syann leaned back on her hands. “You defied my mother. No one has done that in a very long time. You are unique, Kian, your very existence will change things.”

  He laughed sadly. “I’m a half-elf who has been turned into an monster, what can I change?”

  Syann giggled. Kian thought it was not an unpleasant sound. “The world, Kian, you can change the world. You and those you travel with are rare people, you affect events wherever you go. You can’t escape it any more than I can escape the circumstances of my birth.”

  Kian looked at his hands. “I didn’t want this any of it. This may sound strange, but sometimes I don’t feel…” The swordsman paused, trying to find the right words. “I don’t feel my soul. I am no longer the person I was.” He clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. “I don’t even know if I’m a person at all.”

  Syann stood up and offered her hand to Kian, he took it and hopped to his feet. “You are a preternatural being, a creature of magic and mystery. You are extraordinary, Kian Cardan. There should be no shame in your heart, no sadness. Revel in what you have become. You have shown that evil has no hold on you. If it did, you would still belong to my mother.”

  The blonde goddess’s words gave him comfort, but it was the way she looked at him that lightened the burden he felt. It was a look of excitement and fascination. The look a child has when they have seen something new. And it was without fear.

  “Kian, there is something I want to give you." She pulled a simple black ring from her finger. It was made from a metal he had never seen before, dull and heavy.

  “What is it?”

  “A gift I want you to have. Remember my words, Kian. You can’t escape your fate, but sometimes you can cheat it.”

  Kian took the ring. He knew better than to refuse a gift from a goddess. “I thank you, Lady Syann.”

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “I hope the day never comes that you need it.”

  Kian put the ring on his finger. “You have been kind to me and I hate to ask, but I need a favor from you.”

  “I don’t usually do favors for mortals, it usually starts one down a dangerous path, but for you I will make an exception.”

  When he told her what he wanted, she wished she had said no.

  That night as Endra lay with her head on Kian’s chest, she noticed the black ring he now wore on his finger. He was asleep, but she had to ask. She touched his face, gently waking him. “Where did you get that ring?”

  Kian wrapped both his arms around her and pulled her closer to him. “A goddess gave it to me,” he said, still half asleep.

  Endra didn’t sleep well that night and when she awoke in the morning, Kian was gone.

  “I knew you would come sooner or later, I just didn’t know you would appear out of thin air on top of my tower.” Tavantis slowly turned. The wizard had been taking in the morning air on top of his ancient spire.

  Kian stood not ten feet away, a longsword in his hand. The swordsman glared at his twin, but said nothing.

  “Well, Brother, I don’t know how you got here, but I see you have come to kill me.” The wizard adjusted his mask and cleared his throat. “You have good cause, I can’t deny that. I have had my chances and completely failed in my attempts to kill you. Instead I managed to only make you stronger.” The sorcerer gave a gurgling chuckle and shrugged his shoulders. “Who knew?” Tavantis moved to the edge of the broken battlements where he and Kian had fought before. He looked down, then turned and faced his brother. “I don’t think you will fall for any of my tricks this time, will you?”

  Kian shook his head. “Why didn’t you just come with me? I didn’t lie to you. I would have done anything to help you. Why couldn’t you have just trusted me?”

  “I don’t like you, Kian, it’s simple as that. I will never be the brother you want. It’s far too late for that.” Kian thought he heard regret in his brother’s voice.

  The wizard’s finger moved slightly, Kian saw it. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” the swordsman pleaded.

  “My life is misery, there can be no other way.” The wizard’s hidden dagger slid out of his sleeve and into the palm of his hand. The former assassin was smooth and
fast, but Kian was faster. His sword flew from his hand. The wizard never saw it until it buried itself in his belly. The dagger fell from Tavantis’s hand and the crippled wizard’s knees buckled.

  Kian ran to him, catching him before he could fall from the tower. Blood dripped from the mouth of the leather mask. “I should have used a turtle instead of the panther,” the dying wizard joked.

  Tavantis collapsed into Kian’s arms. The swordsman held him so he would not fall from the broken edge of the tower.

  “Finish what you started, Brother. You have done the right thing. I would have never stopped coming for you and those you love.”

  Kian reached down and shoved the longsword deeper into his twin, then he let go. Tavantis tumbled through the air towards the ground. Kian thought he could hear him laughing.

  The swordsman fell to his knees. He stared down at his brother’s broken body, lying in the rubble at the foot of the tower.

  Syann appeared behind him. “This was a dark favor, Kian. Let me return you to Turill now. This is over.” She helped the grief-stricken warrior to his feet.

  “They’re all gone now,” he said, looking at the goddess.

  “Justice be done, Slayer.” Then the pair vanished from the tower.

  It was very warm the day they left Turill. Late summer in Bandara could be very hot sometimes. K’xarr had decided that it was time his small company moved on. He announced throughout the city the week before that he was looking for warriors to form a mercenary company. Only a handful of men responded to his proposition. Most were unsavory and known for a variety of nefarious deeds, but it made him feel better that the group had grown a bit larger. It would be safer for them that way.

  The queen had said her goodbyes. She stood on the battlements of Turill with General Ansellus and Isabella, watching the band ride out of the north gate.

  It was hard to see Rhys go. She would miss him terribly, but as Raygan rubbed the roundness of her belly, she knew he would still be with her in a way. Raygan realized then it was not just Rhys she would miss. “I wish I had known how much they all meant to me before now,” she quietly said to herself.

  “What did you say, Majesty?” Ansellus asked.

  The little queen looked at the man who would now command her army. “I said, do you think we will see them again?”

  Ansellus looked at Isabella and grinned. “Majesty, I would say the question is not will we see them, it’s when.”

  Raven slowly rose from her bed, still moving a little slow. All the witches had gathered to see her. She liked the term “witch.” It was much better than many of the names they had been called before.

  Her tower was warm, so she walked past her slippers. They all surrounded the small crib where her brand new daughter laid. Her sisters were cooing and making faces, they all looked like fools.

  “She favors you, Raven,” Jade said as she joined the others at the crib.

  “That’s a good thing, my dear, K’xarr is not nearly as beautiful as I am.” Raven reached down and pinched her little girl’s cheek. “Is he, Delilah?”

  His eyes snapped open and he slowly looked around. He lay on the floor of his summoning room. When he sat up, he could see that arcane runes had been drawn on the floor. When he looked closer, he could tell blood had been used to create them. He could smell it.

  “Oh, Master, it worked, it worked.”

  Siro was standing outside the circle of runes, clapping his hands and jumping up and down. “What worked, you twit?”

  “What is the last thing you remember, Master?”

  Tavantis rubbed his head. His mask had been removed. “My dear brother running a sword through my guts and pitching me off the top of the tower. I should be quite dead, Siro, would you explain to me why I’m sitting here talking to you?”

  Siro shifted from foot to foot. Tavantis knew he was about to hear one of the necromancer’s loathsome stories. “I ran down to get you after your brother and the blonde woman left.” Siro stopped for a moment and rubbed his eyes.

  “Have you been crying, you idiot?”

  Siro looked at his master and sniffed, his eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Tavantis sighed and shook his head.

  “Finish the tale, Siro, then you may weep all you want.”

  “Yes, Master, well, you were near death and fading fast. I didn’t know what to do, so I cast the preservation spell I use on my undead to keep them fresh. It didn’t stop you from dying, but it slowed the process down.”

  Tavantis stood up. “Well, for you trying to preserve me like a barrel of salt pork, I feel quite good. Now, how did you keep me from dying?” The wizard stretched his arms and realized it didn’t hurt and his voice, it was no longer strained. “Wait a moment; give me a mirror, Siro.”

  “I knew you would want one, Master.” The little necromancer slid a hand mirror across the floor to him.

  Tavantis took note that Siro didn’t step into the circle.

  When he gazed into the mirror, his scars and burns were gone. He looked the same as he did before the Beast’s curse. “Siro, you do not possess the kind of power it would take to break the Beast’s curse. Only my death could do that. What have you done, you ugly little toad?”

  Siro looked uncomfortable. “You were dying and I don’t do well with living things. You know that, so I had to summon help.”

  “Who, Siro?”

  “Master, you were mostly dead, and I knew you wouldn’t want to be one of my special people. I couldn’t think of anyone else, so I used your summoning spell."

  “Damn it, Siro, who did you summon?”

  “Malaiss,” the necromancer whispered.

  Tavantis smiled into the mirror, admiring his fangs. “So death did break my curse. It seems I owe the Lord of Vampires a favor. You have done well, Siro, very well.”

  The little necromancer giggled with glee.

  Fall was coming quickly. The wind whipped at Bishop Lyfair’s robes. He was getting too old to walk back and forth from the cathedral to the palace. He would start taking a carriage, that would be much better for his feet.

  The air was cold after the rain they'd had earlier in the day and a fog was settling in. He couldn’t wait to get to the palace and have a hot bath and a warm brandy.

  “Are you Bishop Lyfair?” A man had appeared from out of the fog.

  “Yes, I am Bishop Lyfair. Who are you?”

  “I am an acquaintance of the late William Blackthorn. May I have a word?”

  Lyfair was cold. He didn’t want to talk, and he hoped to never hear the name of William Blackthorn again. “Make it quick, I’m in a hurry, my son.”

  The man stepped closer. The clouds parted and the moonlight allowed Lyfair to get a look at the man’s face.

  Lyfair recoiled, thinking it was the swordsman, Kian. The man was half-elf, but his hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and he was dressed in a simple black robe. He looked identical to the half-breed slayer, yet there was something different.

  “Forgive me, Your Eminence, but I made a bargain with the late duke that if anything ever happened to him, I was to pay you a visit. I truly detested the man, but a deal is a deal.” Lyfair had no chance to scream.

  The vampire dropped Lyfair’s dead body onto the street and wiped the blood from his mouth. He put his hands behind his back and walked back into the fog, humming a song he had learned from his mother.

  THE END

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