Phoenix Rising

by Alec Peterson

  “Yes, Sir!” The sentry saluted and immediately began shouting out commands.

  “Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?” Ceyrabeth commented quietly, her tone dark, “Aren’t you even the least bit worried?”

  Sul calmly turned to the elven woman, his glass eyes shifting and morphing into shades of red and violet. He raised one eyebrow in an expression of mild interest.

  “What I’m saying, Captain, is that there serves no purpose in waiting. It’s risky and unnecessary,” she added awkwardly.

  “All war is risk,” Sul replied, crimson shards spreading through his eyes, “I should think you would have come to understand that by now.”

  “But why—?”

  “You want to see what the Taintbrood will do!”

  Both pairs of eyes turned to regard Janessa; the red and violet faded from Sul’s eyes replaced with cool shades of blue and green as he met the young woman’s gaze, “Continue.”

  Janessa swallowed past a dry throat and plowed ahead, “You’re not just fighting the Taintbrood; you’re studying them. You want to see how they’ll act the closer they get to you, if maybe they start doing different stuff?” She bit her lip and prayed she was right.

  Sul held her gaze a moment longer; the green fading from his gaze shifting into complete blue with streaks of yellow, “Very good.”

  Janessa exhaled a sigh of relief as Ceyrabeth eyed first her then Sul incredulously, “What they’ll do?! I can tell you what they’ll ‘do’! They’ll do what they do to everything else and come in here and kill every last one of us! We need to leave, now!”

  “Then leave, Lieutenant.”

  Sul’s words and tone caught her like a sword to the gut, “Sir—?”

  “You are dismissed, Lieutenant. If you cannot follow my orders than your presence is unnecessary.”

  Ceyrabeth felt the blood pounding in her head. She opened her mouth to protest…but closed it again. Her hands were clenched so tightly the nails were drawing blood from her palms and her knuckles had turned white. She saluted and stormed away, her vision tinted red. She came upon the sentry and without warning grabbed him by his collar and slammed him against a tree.

  “We. Are. Leaving. Now!” She snarled, “Am I perfectly clear?!”

  “Ye-yes ma’am!” He stammered his eyes wide and fearful. Ceyrabeth shook him once for emphasis and released the man who scurried away as if all the demons of the Void were at his back. She resumed her furious pace to anywhere that wasn’t near Sul.

  Ulak grunted, “Chaming girl,” He muttered under his breath watching the red-haired elf stalk away.

  Damn him! Damn him! Damn him! Ceyrabeth fumed internally, her scowl and pace doing much to clear any traffic before her, “He’s going to get himself killed,” She snarled under her breath, “He’s going to gamble and he’s going to lose and then he’ll die and—!”

  Since when does that bother you?

  The thought stopped the woman dead in her tracks her scowl became deeper and darker. Gritting her teeth in frustration, she stalked towards the stables, her fists still clenched with vice-like intensity. When she finally reached the stables for a final sweep, all of the horses were already gone...except one.

  "Eregost, girl, what are you doing here?" It was easier in the dim light to see what a magnificent animal she had been...Quinlan was so proud when he finally saved up enough to buy her. Ceyrabeth couldn't remember seeing anyone ride higher in the saddle, armor gleaming in the sun, the perfect image of what a Witchhammer ought to be...

  She shook the memory off as a familiar squat form walked through the door. "Shouldn't you be helping break down the camp? Or are you specifically reserved for daring bog rescues?"

  Ceyrabeth narrowed her eyes at the sarcasm in Narl-Shu's tone. "You need to keep a better watch on your stable hands. They forgot Eregost."

  "They didn't forget anything. I'm here to take care of it now."

  "It? Eregost is a mare..."

  "It's a reanimated corpse. It doesn't matter what it used to be."

  Narl-Shu rubbed his hands together. A low hum made the hairs on Ceyrabeth's neck stand on end. Eregost backed, rolling her bright pinprick of an eye as the little man approached. It whickered softly, not panicking but definitely unhappy, "What are you doing to her?" She asked warily.

  "Sending it back to the Void."

  Suddenly it didn't matter to Ceyrabeth that the horse wasn't really a horse or that it had demon eyes or that a good portion of its ribs were visible out of the pale flesh of its torn side. They were just going to end her. Like stomping on a cockroach.

  Ceyrabeth grabbed Narl-Shu's reaching hand without thinking about it. She froze as though hit by lightning, a black web spreading through the veins of her hand. There was a loud snap as Narl-Shu aborted the spell and she blacked out for a moment. Slowly, she became aware that he was calling her some very uncomplimentary things, and that Eregost was nudging her shoulder.

  "She...is mine." Ceryabeth interrupted Narl-Shu's tirade through what felt like a mouth full of cotton. "And if you touch her again, I'll break your corpse-raising hand right off, understand?" She didn't wait for an answer but called over her shoulder, "Eregost, follow!" The clip-clop of the reanimated horse's hooves followed her out.

  The Mithrac...what was his name? Peloquin?...stood with his back against a tree, massive arms crossed over his chest and a smile on his face. "Something to say?" Ceyrabeth snapped at him. The smile got wider, but he raised his hands and shook his head in the negative.

  Ceyrabeth didn't stop until she reached the river. She paced, fuming, furious at herself as she watched Eregost crop the tender shoots of grass at the water's edge. It was the next thing to a demon, for Green’s sake! A monster. She was trained to end monsters, not adopt them. Narl-Shu would have even done the work for her and she just...

  Something hit her lightly in the back. She whirled around....and saw no one, nothing except a tiny glimmer of gold at her feet. She gingerly picked it up and immediately recognized the symbol on the wrapper as belonging to one of the premier confectioners in Daymore. Another little gold missile hit her leg then tumbled onto the ground next to her. She sighed, "You can come out." She addressed the trees.

  "You're sure, Beth?" Keiran popped his head out of the branches. "You'll eat the chocolate? Not bite my head off?"

  "Positive."

  The young former Witchhammer looked good, she noted as he dropped athletically to the ground. The diverse population of the Legion was doing him some benefit- he was already walking with more confidence. He didn't even flinch when Eregost turned her open side to him, simply sat on the hill and patted the grass next to him. She sat beside him with a huff that just narrowly escaped being a sigh.

  The sat in silence for a minute, just watching the camp break and condense.

  "The guards are saying that you're the reason for the quick breakdown." Keiran said casually. "Said their used to moving efficiently, but this is the fastest they've ever broken camp."

  "Yes, well, if the guards have an issue with the way..."

  Keiran popped a chocolate into her protesting mouth with the ease of former practice. "You promised."

  Ceyrabeth bit down with a roll of her sable eyes and felt her anger drain as the tart sweetness of raspberry flooded her tongue. Her very favorite, and almost impossible to find. "Did you save these all the way from the city?"

  Keiran nodded with a grin, "For emergencies."

  They watched the river for a moment. "So," Keiran finally said casually, "You decided to keep Eregost huh?"

  "Yes, I decided to keep the free horse that can run for days without needing food or drink. Problems?" Ceyrabeth asked coolly.

  Keiran shook his head with a smile. "I'll bet the Captain was happy about it."

  "He doesn't know yet."

  "He knows." Keiran stated with conviction.

  "Speaking of the Captain Who Knows," a voice behind them called out.

  Ceyrabeth and Keiran whirled around at Pe
llinore's mildly amused statement. "He requests that you three," He swept his arm to include Eregost, "rejoin him at your earliest opportunity. The Taintbrood are almost upon us." Pellinore didn't seem overly worried about slavering hordes descending upon them- unsurprising in her opinion, considering the power that dwelled within the camp to oppose them- but Keiran had turned a very telling shade of pale.

  "I should grab my mount," The young man managed.

  "I'll come with you," Ceyrabeth assured him. Soon they found themselves heading back toward the four semi-permanent shelters that housed the Legion's mounts. Surprisingly, there was a large crowd around the shelters- last minute stragglers, she thought. And then, a piercing shriek froze the blood in her veins. She and Keiran both went for their blades.

  "What in the name of the gods was that?!" Keiran managed to choke out. Slowly the assembled ranks parted to make way for Sul. He was astride a great reptilian beast, its leathery hide bone white and heavily scarred. Its’ eyes were bright pink and it emitted a strange cackling purr as it peered at the people around it.

  "That," Ceyrabeth said with strange wonder coloring her voice as her sword arm dropped, seemingly without her noticing. "is a wyvern!”

  “It is indeed,” Sul replied. He was wearing what appeared to be armored robes: layers of wool and pale leather accented with mail and plates of dark metal split up the center to accommodate riding.

  “What breed is it?” She asked, still riveted on the beast.

  “An eastern breed born without wings and deemed too unruly to be made into proper mounts.”

  The wyvern took that opportunity to raise its’ head and emit another ear-piercing shriek that caused Ceyrabeth’s teeth to rattle.

  “The Shrieking Stalker?” The elven woman asked as soon as her ears stopped ringing.

  “The same,” Sul patted the creature on the neck. It gave another cackle purr. “They are not a well-known species. You’re very well-informed lieutenant.”

  Ceyrabeth felt heat rush to her cheeks and she quickly averted her gaze, “As I’ve mentioned, I used to read a lot when I was young. A Church brother named Arturo set up a research station in Dolor and gave me access to his library in exchange for running his errands,” She coughed once and affixed a glare on her face to banish the blush from her features before addressing him, “What? You don’t have a monopoly on reading.”

  One dark eyebrow lifted slightly in a now-familiar gesture of interest, “I have acquired all of Brother Arturo’s works and contributed to a few as well. He is an insightful man.”

  Ceyrabeth gestured at the beast, “What’s his name?”

  “Her name,” Sul corrected gently, “Is Banshee.”

  Keiran frowned up at the creature, “Banshee? What does that mean?”

  “It’s a very old word, from a time long before the Ancient Age.”

  “There’s nothing before the Ancient Age,” He said confused.

  “That depends entirely on who you’re asking. Now, report to your unit soldier.”

  Keiran immediately stiffened and gave a crisp salute, “Yes, Sir!”

  “For the record,” Ceyrabeth commented sourly, watching her young friend go, “He’s never saluted me.”

  “All in good time, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes Sir.” Ceyrabeth straightened and also saluted. “Have I orders as well, Sir?”

  “Shadow Lieutenant Pellinore for now,” Sul nodded as Pellinore detached himself from the crowd on Sul’s right. The two elves exchanged nods. “There is much for you to learn.”

  “Sir.” Ceyrabeth acknowledged. Pellinore seemed a decent sort. She could at least be grateful that she wasn’t taking her orders from the foppish Peloquin or the berserker Maul.

  Sul nudged his mount forward and nodded to someone she couldn’t see. A raucous horn sounded along with the command to “Move out!” The words were picked up and reechoed until they were lost in a thunder of hooves and wagon wheels.

  Chapter 9

  Introductions and Farewells

  ‘A campaign is fought on many fronts. A battle won or lost in one location will have serious ramifications throughout the entire theater of war. Therefore, one must be kept appraised of all that would affect his strategy. Ignorance is neither safety nor bliss but rather assured destruction.’ - A passage from ‘Victor Vinguardis’ (Way of Victory) translated from Daymorian. Author unknown. Currently banned by the Church of Imperius

  “The Captain’s given the order to halt camp.”

  “Thank the Green.” Ceyrabeth breathed at Pellinore’s words. She shifted in the saddle, grimaced. It felt like her saddle sores had saddle sores. Over the last weeks, the Legion had effectively split with the slower riders- such as the heavy cavalry who were defending against Taintbrood stragglers from behind- and the faster riders scouting ahead and running interference for those refugees unfortunate enough to still be on the road. In classic military formation, both groups were responsible for protecting those in the middle- women, children, the wounded, and the non-combatants.

  Ceyrabeth had already pulled her share of guard and patrol duty, finding to her surprise that she enjoyed the people she worked with even though they had little time for idle chit-chat. Captain Sul pushed the pace hard and no one could blame him; hard travel was much preferred to being consumed by the Brood.

  But the reports coming in from the southern arm of the Legion had gotten more and more favorable the farther north they went. It was time to regroup. Ceyrabeth fully expected, as one of the newest recruits, to be doing the grunt work inevitable in making a large camp. So, when Sul called her into the newly pitched command tent, she was surprised to have him offer her a seat. Latrine duty didn’t really require much except a ‘go dig there’ and certainly the Captain didn’t need to be the one giving that order.

  She had politely refused a glass of wine and was watching him survey her over the rim of his own cup. “May I be of assistance, Captain?” She finally asked.

  “Yes.” Sul set his glass down. “A mission has come up that you are…uniquely suited for, Lieutenant. Tell me how much you know about the mages fortress of Arcus Meier?”

  “Umm,” Ceyrabeth had to think; she had been outside the towers for a long time. “It’s ruled by the archmagi Meier Cyn, with Marshal Aeneas commanding the Witchhammers stationed there. They’ve worked together for a long time- Arcus is widely considered to be one of the most stable institutions for magic in Daymore.”

  “It appears that is no longer the case. The Witchhammers are on the march to destroy it.”

  “What?!’ She shot to her feet. “Why?!” Sul waved her back down. She sat reluctantly on the edge of her seat. Sul opened his mouth to speak, but was drowned out by a titanic roar that practically imploded the canvas walls.

  "Dragon!" Ceyrabeth cried out as she dashed out of her tent sword in hand, cursing the sentries that hadn't alerted them sooner.

  "There's nothing to fear." Sul said, coming to stand behind her.

  "Nothing to-" She gestured at the enormous winged creature. Its scales shone an iridescent crimson and the smell of scorched rock hung heavy in the air. "That’s a red dragon A dragon!.”

  Sul smiled faintly as he rose to his feet, “I can assure you: it has no interest in violence.”

  Don't even ask how he knows. He wants you to so he can show off more. Just don't. Ceyrabeth coached herself. Don't even..."And how can you possibly know that?" Damn it.

  "Because dragons are expert spellcasters and master strategists with centuries of experience and allies to call upon," Sul turned his bandaged gaze to her, "If she were here to kill us, we'd all be dead.”

  That was news to her. The Imperium painted them as beasts in all their sermons and scripture…. cunning, certainly, but animals for all that. And then her brain caught up with his words, “She?”

  The dragon landed with more grace that a creature its size should have been capable of. Its sleek form was no less impressive on the ground than in the air. Its clawed feet crushed ro
ck underneath it as it approached the camp, hissing and snarling. Men's hands tightened on the hilts of their swords and their bows.

  "No one make any hostile actions towards her," Sul said in a voice of bared steel. He waved everyone back and approached the creature. Its red and orange eyes were vertical slits of contempt and its nostrils flared. The scent of burning rock and ash increased.

  “Look out!” Ceyrabeth cried out, “She’s going to-!”

  The rest of her words were drowned out by a sound like an enormous bellows filling and then a roaring conflagration of fire exploded out of the creature’s mouth.

  “No!”

  The flames raced towards Sul…and terminated less than a foot away from him. She could see that the sheer heat of the flame had scalded his face red but he remained unmoved.

  “Are. You. Finished?” His words were calm as he addressed the enormous beast looming over him.

  The dragon snuffed once, “For now, I suppose so,” There was a flash of light, a crack like thunder and where the enormous red dragon had been was a pale skinned woman with white-blonde hair, a lithe form and orange eyes, “Hello…uncle.”

  “Uncle. Well, that explains a lot,” Ceyrabeth's tone was dry but every sense was on high alert. Somehow, even though she was every inch the perfect replica of a human, the woman reminded her of a dragon still. Something in the way she held her neck, how she stood leaning slightly forward as though she would drop to all fours at any second. Ceyrabeth got the sense that dragon though she was, this 'woman’ was about her age, if not younger.

  There was something fascinating about her eyes, as though if you looked long enough you could see beyond the dimension of mortal ken...Ceyrabeth realized she had been staring and shook herself, focusing instead on Sul who was answering the dragon's greeting.

  “Lieutenant,” Sul gestured, “May I present Tarahjhunkaiel: conqueror of the white wyrm Scylis, defeater of the lich necromancer Kressius Krul and companion to her majesty the Winter Queen.”