In the world of Evermore the Fallen ruled over all of supernatural kind. As our numbers grew they needed more beings to help oversee us all, and so the Greeks came to be. My father told me once they liked to call themselves Gods. But in Evermore we saw them only as powerful supernaturals, not gods. Even so, they ruled over us and answered only to the Fallen.
“My dear, he was born with this. Even the Fallen can’t change that.” My father pressed his fingers to his temples and rubbed them in small circles. “It’s not for any of us to choose. He’s been marked since birth.”
I ran my fingers over the mark on my neck…The mark of the Phoenix. “Are you talking about me?” I insisted, but they didn’t look at me.
“It’s hardly visible.” My mother glanced around at the three of us hanging on their every word. She reached out and grabbed my father’s hand then dragged him away from the table.
Wait. Tell me what’s happening to me. Their conversation was so quick but I knew it had to do with me. Part of me wanted to follow behind them just to hear what they had to say. The other part of me knew if I did things would never be the same.
I watched them round the corner and slip out of my sight to where I couldn’t hear them. Something soft hit the side of my face and I jumped. It bounced off me then rolled off my plate and over my silverware. I looked down to find a half-eaten roll sitting on the table.
“Tuck.” Barrow pointed to the corner where my parents had gone. “Go after them. Tell us what they’re saying.”
“No, Tuck, don’t. Mom and Dad wouldn’t like it.” Judd shook his head. “Don’t.”
They were talking about me. I knew it. I was the only one with the mark. They wouldn’t like me snooping, but I had to know what was going on. I jumped to my feet and my chair scraped across the hard stone.
“Shhhhh, tiptoe!”
“Barrow, stop. You know it’s not right. Don’t do it, Tuck.” Judd warned.
This time I had to listen to Barrow. I crept toward the corner they’d disappeared behind and peeked around.
My mother paced back and forth in front of my father. Her hands waved around frantically. “Don’t send him, send someone else. Anyone else. High King Alataris has sat on his throne for a millennia. Sending our son to face him isn’t going to change a thing.”
King Alataris? The Evil King of the Witch Court? What does he have to do with me? They were talking so quickly about so many things I didn’t understand, but I felt I needed to listen to what they were saying.
“You know I can’t do that. And it just might make a difference. Have you ever thought of what could happen if Alataris got all five Witch Queens under his rule? And now that the fifth has been found, you know she will be the most powerful. She will need a Knight when she Ascends to her full powers. Who better than our son?” My father sighed so loud it rumbled like a lion. “He’s been marked, Zandra. There’s nothing else I can do. We have to have faith in him, in what he will become.”
The Witch Queens of the five casts? I remember my father telling me about them, about how powerful they all would be and how the Knights protected them through out history.
“Don’t tell me there’s nothing you can do.” Her breath hitched in her throat. “You are King of our kind. Pick your best warriors, pick anyone. Hell, I don’t care who you pick, just not my Tucker.”
“You know what has to happen here. King Alataris must be kept in check. If he’s not it will mean war for all the species of Evermore. His only desire is to take over us all. It will be a war that no one will be able to win. He must be stopped before it gets that far. Like it has in the past.” His voice grew strained as it rose higher with each word. “I’ve sent for Blackwing. There is no other who can train a phoenix the way he can. I’m preparing him, that’s all we can do. Tucker will be the finest warrior the Phoenix have ever seen.”
“And now you want to send him to the trials?” She threw her hands up. “Isn’t being a guardian bad enough but you want him to be a Knight? To guard them.”
“Zandra, that’s how it works. Guardians protect their species. But only the best Guardians get to rise to become a Knight. Imagine it, our son becoming one of six Knights to protect the Queens. He can do it. I know he can.”
“For the love of flames, Riker! I don’t care how good he is or will become. Guardians and Knights die…They die.”
I stumbled back, my mother’s words echoing in my mind. I covered my mouth to stop from crying out…They die…I’m a Guardian. Does that mean I’m going to die?
Chapter 2
“Damn it, Tuck! Stop dropping your shoulder.” Balthazar Blackwing bellowed at me from across the training room. His nostrils flared as though steam would come out of his ears. Sweat beaded across his ebony skin and he pressed his full lips together.
I tumbled across the mat, striking out with my sword, hitting the back of one of my training partner’s knees. He collapsed to the ground like all the others had. Four more opponents charged at me. I could barely tell the difference between them, with all that head-to-toe padding, like they were training an attack dog rather than me.
It’d been like this for years now. Years of training for a position I never wanted but was born into. A position I couldn’t get free from. A position others dreamed of.
“Thrust upward and twist!” Balthazar paced back and forth watching me like a hawk. He scrutinized every single one of my moves. A life time of scrutiny is what I faced each and everyday.
I spun on my knees, shifting my weight. Then effortlessly tossed my sword to the other hand. I swept my leg out, taking down another of the padded figures and slashed my sword across the padding on his chest. Another would-be kill. The cotton poured onto the floor in white puffs. The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention, behind me I felt the air move as yet another figure came at me. I glanced over my shoulder, his sword was poised to strike my neck. I leaned to the side and the blade swept over my head. The man inside the padded helmet grunted and stumbled. I sprung to my feet and drew my weapon across his ribs, littering the floor with more stuffing. I side-stepped over the cotton and faced my next opponent.
“Is this a game to you, Tucker? Because I can assure you, there are plenty of others who’d like to take your place.” Again Blackwing’s deep, booming voice carried across the gym. “Four Witch Queens have Ascended. The fifth will Ascend in less than two weeks’ time! And the trials are about to take place. How can you be ready if all you do is play?”
I’d been hearing about the Witch Queens all my life. Within Evermore there were five casts of witches: Death, Desire, Elements, Spells, and Essence. Every witch was born into one of those five casts yet only the most powerful rose to become a Queen. Each Queen fully possessed the powers of their cast and wielded them as easily as I did my swords. Once they ascended their magic would be at full strength. It would take all five Witch Queens to overthrow King Alataris, the evil High King of the Witch Court.
As a Guardian marked by fate, it would be my job to protect them from King Alataris until the day they were strong enough to fight against him as one. It was a job I’d been bred for, a job I never wanted. Yet here I was. Over the past thousand years there had been numerous times all five witches had ascended, but not one time had the Witch Queens ever come close to over-throwing King Alataris. They’d all died alongside their Knights, allowing Alataris to remain a threat to the supernatural world of Evermore….and the humans.
Because above all else there was one thing Alataris wanted. Power. Around me, others from The Sector, the black ops of our army, trained with dummies, beat on each other or practiced with weapons. But I was at the center of it all. I’m always at the center of it all. The prince who’d been marked at birth for a life he didn’t choose. At times I enjoyed the training, it excited me.
Ten years later I was still training. Still waiting for my moment to be rid of it all. I clenched my teeth to stop myself from snapping back at him. Another padded figure charged toward me. I stepped forwa
rd, then planted one foot and kicked him square in the chest with the other. He flew back twenty feet then slammed into the wall. He slid to the floor leaving a body-sized dent where he’d impacted. My heart raced and for a split second I felt my lips twitch into a smile.
“Sloppy, just sloppy. You think King Alataris will fall for that?” Forget the smile. From the corner of my eye I saw Blackwing shaking his head. He ran his hand over his bald head then down to his face where he cover his crimson eyes. He stood above us all, watching the training room floor like it was an arena and we were all there for his entertainment. Perched on the observation deck he barked orders, pushing us to our breaking points. Pushing me toward mine. Would today be the day?
Two more men came at me, one from each side. I shot forward at full speed toward the single pole in the middle of the gym. I didn’t hesitate as they chased after me. I put one step in front of the other then I sprinted up the pole. When I came close to the top I pushed away and flipped backwards to land just behind them. I drew my sword across each of their backs, more padding fell to the floor in cotton puffs.
“This isn’t a movie. Quit it with the fancy moves.” Blackwing slammed his fist against the railing. The metal vibrated from his hit, yet I continued to ignore him as best I could.It all came so easily and I might even enjoy it at times. I liked fighting for what was right, but it would’ve been nice to choose my path rather than be forced into it.
Which is it? Am I sloppy or fancy? For ten years I had followed his orders. For ten years I ate, slept, and drank being a Guardian with the goal of one day rising to being a Knight. It came so naturally to me, and yet with each of his cutting words I felt my breaking point closing in. I tossed my sword high in the air and it spun end over end. Then I caught the hilt side. When my eyes met his, he narrowed his gaze in challenge. In a split second I launched the blade at him, it soared toward him whistling through the air missing his head by less than and inch. With a thunk the sword embedded in to the wall behind him and quivered from the impact. The other members of the Sector froze in place, the room going completely silent. I felt their eyes darting from him to me and back again.
Blackwing’s name struck fear into the hearts of many. As the founding member of the Black Wing Sector he was the commander of special operations. There wasn’t one thing happening within the Phoenix Clan he didn’t know about.
Blackwing poked the end of the sword. It waver back and forth. “Having a little fun, are we?”
I shrugged. “None of this has ever been fun.”
He came closer to the edge and leaned his elbows on the railing. “Need I remind you the Trials are only two days away?”
Though I was big for a sixteen-year-old, standing at six-foot-four inches and weighing over two hundred pounds, Blackwing towered over me. He stood at least six inches taller than me and a good thirty pounds heavier. His arms were roughly the size of my head. I shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for his next order. Part of me wanted to challenge him, wanted to end his never-ending orders. The other part of me wanted nothing to do with this life.
“Ten years of reminders was enough.” I threw my hands up.
“You have a duty—”
“A duty to the world, to myself, and to honor the great Phoenix Clan.” I lifted my arm up, holding a fist to the sky like I’d been taught, and half heartedly bellowed, “May the flames endure.”
The men around me returned the war cry. “And rise from the ashes.”
“And yet you toy with me, boy. Why?” Blackwing crossed his arms over his broad chest and narrowed his eyes. He never knew what to make of my behavior, even after a decade. I wasn’t a typical soldier, I was a guardian with a mind of my own. I questioned his authority at times following my gut instinct rather than orders. Which seemed to be more and more often. It was a dance we did. He pushed me, I pushed back. We both loved the challenge we’d become for each other, though neither of us admitted it to the other.
“Because someone has to.” I couldn’t stop the smirk from pulling at my lips.
A sly smile spread over Blackwing’s face. He wrapped his hands around the railing and arched one eyebrow. He heaved himself over the metal bar and landed in the middle of the training room on his feet. The blue mats hollowed under his feet. He held his fists at his sides and raised his chin. “My turn.”
He opened his fingers and held his hands away from his hips. A oranger light gathering in the palms of his hands and quickly formed into his daggers. The metal glowed from within like lava ran through each of the blades. The hilts glinted gold and were wrapped with black leather. At the end of each of them a black wing shape was etched into the metal.
I held my hands out, feeling the power swirl from the mark on my neck, across my shoulders, and down to my fingers. It was a constant burning restlessness in my veins, always there, waiting to be used. As a child my mark would flare brightly when I tapped into my powers, but it was the first thing Blackwing taught me how to control. If you give your enemies any sign you’re about to attack then you’re as good as dead. He was right. I learned to control the glow. Now all I felt was the gathering heat.
White light spiraled in the palm of my hands gathering. Normally I could do this in an instant but I took my time and formed the perfect blades in my mind. They manifest exactly how I saw them in my head as they rose from my palms. The tip of the thin white blades erupted shooting upward until the hilts pressed into my skin and I wrapped my hands around them. I twisted my wrists and flames ran down from my shoulders to the tips of swords. They were tailored to what I wanted. Long, sharp, sleek blades perfectly balanced by the silver grip. A phoenix was etched into each handle, matching the black swirling phoenix on my neck.
The light from the swords brightened the room and illuminated the area around me. “Ready?”
Blackwing spun his duel blades in each of his hands. Then waved me forward. “Bring it, boy. Your swords versus my knives.”
We charged each other. I rushed forward as Blackwing leapt into the air, he extending his body holding his blades above his head. His eye bore into mine as he bellowed. I crossed my swords holding them above me. Metal clanged against metal as he brought his knives down. The impact of his hit vibrated the hilts, my hands stung. I wanted to shake them out but I refused drop them. Instead I curled my shoulder under and shoved him while I drew my weapons downward. He spun and plunged at my midsection. I countered the blow and swung my swords across my body stopping the jab before it pierced my skin. The metal hissed each time it collided. Exhilaration ran through my veins.
I flipped to the side and drove my sword forward about to run it over his back. Blackwing turned and followed my move. Then ran his knife down the edge of my sharpened blades forcing it away from him. He side-stepped, meeting my every move. I leapt back. The point of his knives barely missed my ribs, it took a good slice from my black T-shirt. I rammed forward and sliced my sword across the side of his body, making sure not to get skin.
Blackwing spun away. Sweat beaded his forehead and his chest heaved with each of his breaths. He plucked at the side of his shirt where I’d torn it open and left a large piece hanging. “You ripped my shirt.”
I glanced down at the gaping hole that ran across the fabric covering my stomach. “We’re even.”
“Is that so?” He snapped his arm back and hurled his dagger at my face. The blade spun end over end as he came at me. I turned to the side, watching as it flew by me. The second it passed my face I turned back toward him. But he’d shifted into his phoenix form. Black feathers covered him from head to toe. Great arching wings spread out from his eagle-like body. His long beak curved downward into a sharp point, and long feathers jutted back from his head. Flames swayed over his thick midnight wings and down the lengthy feathers that dropped from his back well past his talons. A six-foot-tall, pissed-off phoenix flew at me. Sharp black claws aimed straight for my eyes.
I recalled the swords in to the palms of my hands. They disappeared in an ins
tant as I flipped backward and let Blackwing to fly over me. The fire in me sparked to life I let it run free. The absolute burn consumed me from the inside out, flames burst from me in an explosion. He thought he had tricks. Well, he wasn’t the only one. I wasn’t like every other phoenix my age. With in the ball of fire I shift from man to phoenix in seconds.
Two six-foot phoenixes collided in swooping attacks. The only difference between us was Blackwing’s feathers were dark as night and mine were a blood red. The men rushed toward the walls, pinning themselves up against it to steer clear. I was weightless and free, my wings glided through the air like the sharp end of a blade. I swirled aside, twisting like corkscrew to avoid his glinting talons. The two of us spun around each other like tornados, a blur black and deep crimson feathers, up toward the ceiling.
Heat warmed my chest and I let it seep through my body out toward my flowing tail feathers. They burst into a torch from the tips of my feathers to the small of my back. I pumped my wings and glided around him. A line of smoke and flames followed in my wake. Like a fiery cyclone I surrounded Blackwing with smokey flames and blocked his vision of me. He spun in a circle his head bobbing from one side to the other trying to spot me among the plumes. When he turned away I took my shot and dove at him with my talons ready to strike. Like a hawk about to snag a fish from the water, I extended my claws and went straight for his throat. I felt his feathered neck with in my vise-like grasp. I dove for the floor and pinned him beneath me.
Blackwing’s phoenix form melted away as he shifted back into his man form. He wrapped his hands around my claws and pulled at them. I refused to budge. His chest heaved and his red eyes budged when I tightened my grip on him. His throat bobbed when he swallowed and sucked in a breath. “Tucker.”
Wicked Trials Page 2