Phoenix Rising

by Alec Peterson

  “Hold!”

  The command from Sul came suddenly and she jerked the reins on instinct causing Eregost to rear up before the oncoming monsters. Suddenly there was a click followed by sudden cracking noise…

  ….and the entire Taintbrood platoon tumbled into a concealed pit that Ceyrabeth had missed by inches.

  The smell of pitch and oil overwhelmed her senses just in time for her comprehend the plan. She gripped the flask containing the fire bomb at her belt. It was standard issue for all horsemen and she hurled it into the pit. With a crackle and a scream of tortured wood and flesh the entire trench went up, consuming the Taintbrood within and blocking those infiltrators that had attempted to follow. Ceyrabeth couldn’t help but laugh as adrenaline and admiration coursed through her veins.

  “Archers: loose.”

  Ceyrabeth stayed perfectly still as the royal guard unleashed their bolts into the oncoming creatures. Without the element of surprise, the spawn could not withstand against the withering onslaught of fire and bolt.

  “Osen,” The same voice called. The cat appeared out of seemingly nowhere, ignored the Captain on the ground, instead hopping onto the shoulders of…

  …one of the royal guardsmen, his features concealed by his helm.

  “Mas-ter?”

  “Kill.”

  The one-eyed cat hissed with glee and dove into the flames of the trench, tearing the beasts apart.

  “Won’t he burn?” The “Captain” being propped up on the ground asked in a voice that was distinctly high pitched and feminine.

  Ceyrabeth dismounted and came bounding back to the scene, placing her hand on Banshee’s flank, “What is---“She pulled her hand back. It was simply white paint covering the brown scales of the far more common Highland wyverns “---is all this?” She also noticed that the saddle was a fabrication, made of wood and plaster and designed to increase the height and girth of whoever sat upon it. The guardsman assisted the “Captain” in removing the faceplate of the massive helm to reveal:

  “Janessa?!” Ceyrabeth exclaimed.

  “The one and only,” She smiled painfully, “Ow! I don’t think I want to be the decoy anymore.”

  “Are you badly injured?” The guardsman inquired before removing his helm to reveal Sul garbed in his samite eye binding.

  “Lords of Earth!” Ceyrabeth exclaimed, “How did you--?”

  “Some cheap theatrics and minor enchantment all geared towards misdirection,” Sul said waving her question away, “Janessa?”

  “I don’t think it penetrated the undercoat,” She managed a brave smile, “Yevvon does good work.”

  “He does indeed,” Sul hefted Janessa up in his arms.

  “Oo!” Janessa squeaked, “You are stronger than you look.” She pretended to trace the cord like muscles on his arms. Ceyrabeth pretended not to notice.

  “Captain!” Pellinore yelled over the noise, “The line is breached. The Bulwark will not hold!”

  “Sound the final charge. Send left and right lancers against their targets and deploy the mages. Pellinore, lead the left charge, Lieutenant Vallorin the right,” Sul replied calmly.

  “Sir!” Pellinore strapped his helm on and readied his flail, “For the Legion!”

  “Osen!” The cat, coated in flames and blood and yet none the worse for wear appeared out of the trench licking its chops, “Clear the way. Fire and death.”

  “Fire! Death!” The demonic tabby cat roared, its mutilated eye now open and displaying a rolling ball of flame as he bounded into the darkness ahead of the knights.

  Ceyrabeth meanwhile was trying to make sense out of what was happen. “What Lancers? What are you-?”

  She noticed then that no less than forty knights had materialized from out of the gloom behind them, armed and ready. The entirety of Drachaen’s honor guard split amongst themselves between Ceyrabeth and Pellinore’s command.

  “You’ll be defenseless!” She hissed at Sul.

  “The gods watch over us all child,” Came the response as Reiko took the wounded Janessa -who released her grip on Sul somewhat reluctantly –“and if the gods are busy,” She gestured behind herself to the forms of Atiya, Peloquin and a masked individual who she had heard referred to as “Arcuse” once before who had lurked in the darkness until now but were prepared to provide their captain with all the protection he could require and more.

  “You have your orders Lieutenant,” Sul said.

  Ceyrabeth snapped on her ornate war helm, “One day,” She muttered to a grinning Peloquin under her breath as she passed, “I am going to be too angry by his cleverness to be impressed by it and I am going to kill him.”

  “Perhaps, mi amor,” He offered the elven woman a wink, “But not this day. Mind the glyphs”

  “Yes Sir,” She growled, drawing her sword in one hand and her shield in the other. She may have been ignorant of a massive battlefield and formal warfare, but rally a small group to glory? That she could do. “All on me! We are the Fire Risen!”

  “For the Legion!” The soldiers cried out.

  “We are the light against the darkness!”

  “For the Legion!”

  “They will see us and see their death!”

  “Death!”

  “Death!” She roared back and charged down the hill, her knights rampaging after her to fall upon the divided Taintbrood forces. She caught Maul’s eye as he and his charioteers headed straight to the nearly overwhelmed infantry.

  And then, they sliced the harnesses of the bears clean from the chariots and leapt free from the vehicles.

  “What in the name of-?” Ceyrabeth stared.

  The bears ran full speed at the Phoenix Legion bulwark. The bulwark held firm as the first of the bears reached them. The bears actually leapt over their shields…

  ….and with an explosion of black smoke the bears were no longer bears but wolves.

  Our mages are otherwise occupied and not so numerous that we can afford to pit them against Brutes in such a direct manner, Sul had told her.

  “Shapechangers!” She gasped.

  Suddenly, the chariots that had been abandoned within the ranks of the Taintbrood exploded into arcing blue lightening, coursing through the all the water that had been created from the snow and ice of the Taintbrood mages efforts to put out the flames from earlier: a stockpile of shock grenades in each no doubt. They added to the confusion and allowed the wolves behind friendly lines to become robed men and women. Maul and his berserkers were not idle, using their great weapons and ability to induce fear to drive the Horde back whilst the mages booby-trapped the front lines of the bulwark.

  Mind the glyphs.

  The various mages had shed their wolf forms and were now desperately laying down glyphs as fast as they could before the men standing at the fore of the three-way bulwark. Ceyrabeth watches as the glyphs glowed green and blue forcing the Taintbrood back away from the infantry. Where two glyphs overlapped, there was an explosion of kinetic energy that knocked the Taintbrood back and directly into the lances of herself and Commander Pellinore. The flanking Taintbrood were suddenly outflanked themselves, caught between those glyphs, the spears of the bulwark, the weapons of the berserkers, and the lances and flails of the cavalry.

  The Taintbrood ranks broke. Deprived of their mages and Brutes, they fled the only way they could, away from the flames and arrows of the Phoenix Legion, away from the battle and deep into the open wilderness far from the sanctuary of the Underwilds that had spawned them.

  An hour later, it was all over.

  .::.

  The celebration was an unusually muted affair. The Captain had prepared roasted boar, spiced wine from the Ghenlands, stag on steel and other traditional dishes; all manner of delicacies that often graced the Captain’s table were now being shared amongst the men freely. But no man drank more than a second cup of mead or wine and all eyed the horizon as darkness fell.

  “I…have a question,” Ceyrabeth put forth to the table with some hesitation.<
br />
  “Caution does not suit you lieutenant,” Sul said not unkindly, “Speak your mind.”

  “It’s just...it could be a ridiculous question to ask a practically omniscient master of strategy...”

  Sul made a sound then before taking a long sip from his goblet. Ceyrabeth could see his lips pulled up around the rim the wine glass. That sound…

  Did he just…snort?

  “I make no claims to mastery, I assure you,” Sul replied, his tone still light and amused, “Please ask your question. My ego is not threatened here and I should prefer to clear up any confusion rather than allow one of my officers to remain ignorant.”

  “Fair enough,” Ceyrabeth took a deep breath and braced herself, “You have a dragon at your command-“

  “No one has a bloody dragon at their ‘command’ girl,” Maul scoffed, “Stop being daft.”

  “-however,” Ceyrabeth shrugged his words aside, “You didn’t call her into battle. Why not?”

  There were a few chuckles from around the table and Ceyrabeth's face flushed. The chuckles died as Sul rose to his feet and silenced them with a look.

  How does he do that with no eyes? Ceyrabeth found herself thinking as Sul began to speak.

  “What do you know about dragons, Lieutenant?”

  The elf woman searched her mind, trying to remember everything Brother Arturo had taught her about them, “They are…very powerful,” She began cautiously, “They are extremely accomplished magic users, they can fly and their breath weapons contain the power of nature’s elements. They come in different colors and are rare.”

  “They certainly are in this age,” Sul nodded, “Since the line of kings was broken in Daymore, the Imbued have retreated from the affairs of man and the Primordials have very little interests in working with the mortal races.”

  “I'm not sure I follow.”

  “I’ll spare you a lengthy lecture on history…” Sul began.

  “There’s a first,” Narl-Shu barked with a laugh.

  Ceyrabeth leaned forward, a brittle scowl on her face. She had had just about enough of the man. “One more word and I’ll tear your ears off and feed them to you. Do you understand?”

  Narl-Shu sat back. Ceryabeth could practically see the wheels turning in his admittedly intelligent head. Would he test her, or wouldn't he? Finally, he made the right choice- muttering an obscenity, he turned his attention back to his drink.

  Sul gave her an appraising look and to her surprise, his lips curled in a small smile before he continued, “Primordial dragons are made from the forces of nature: flame, cold, decay, growth and so on. They are creatures of supreme ego, each one born with the unshakable belief in their own innate superiority in the face of all other ‘lesser’ creatures.”

  Ceyrabeth rolled her eyes, “Meaning everything else that isn’t a dragon?”

  “Primordial dragons in general and red dragons in particular do not bother justifying their actions to anyone or anything else. They aren’t interested in equality or understanding. From the first moment of their existence until their very last, they will do what they want, when and where they want, however they want. They do not compromise. They do not cooperate. They do not accept the command of another.”

  Ceyrabeth nodded, “Which means they can’t be relied upon in a battle.”

  “A thirty-foot creature weighing over a ton rampaging across the landscape throwing spells and incinerating everything in its path is not conducive to any kind of strategy or achieving any kind of long-term conquest.”

  Ceyrabeth sat back down feeling an odd sense of contentment: she had learned something new. She had always been curious by nature- it had been real, soul-crushing work to put a damper on that desire to learn for so long during her time amongst the Hammers, “I see. I appreciate you taking the time to explain.”

  Sul sat back down in his chair and raised his goblet in toast to the woman and this time it was Ceyrabeth’s smile that curled over the rim of the glass.

  “Do you believe the Brood will return?” Pellinore asked gesturing to the massive war table draped in maps and marked with flags and icons designating various agents and factions.

  “I am uncertain,” Sul confessed, “We have given them a way out. If they possess enough sense to do so, they will take it.”

  “I still don’t understand why we gave them a way out at all,” growled Narl-Shu. “We have them fleeing for their miserable lives.”

  “And if we had forced their backs against the wall with no escape, they would have been fighting for those said miserable lives,” Sul countered softly, “The objective here was to deny them the southern regions, which we have done. More importantly, we deprived them of easy access to the Underwilds. Our victory serves to remind the Horde that not all the forces of men will fall as easily as they did in previous engagements. Even the Horde understands morale. This battle should throw them into a state of confusion.”

  “And if the Horde should take our presence more seriously and dedicate a significant force to destroy us?” Pellinore asked cautiously.

  “You mean more dedicated than the several thousand Taintbrood that already attempted to?” A faint smile quirked on Sul’s lips, “Be at peace Commander. After tonight’s revels, we head northwest into the Bannoth Thor mountains. Our tributes to the dwarves of Iron Realm have not gone unnoticed and the seasons are changing. Whatever state of flux the current state of queenship, the ruling matriarchs are perfectly aware that they’re in need of the supplies we bring, however grudgingly they accept it. Between the terrain, the token dwarven sentry presence, and the dragon cult the mountains should be safe enough for the time being.”

  “Dragon Cult?” Ceyrabeth interjected. “What dragon cult?”

  “My people,” Reaper Maul answered, grinning broadly. Even with half his face bandaged and his arm in a splint, he still looked capable of disassembling the remainder of the Taintbrood forces with his bare hands.

  Ceyrabeth gestured at Maul’s mangled visage, “Your people? The last I heard you were an elf from the dwarven gladiator pits.”

  “After my daring escape, I wandered into the mountains and was taken in by a fine group of people. They taught me all kinds of useful things but I was never what you’d call a ‘true believer’.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they worship a dragon as the living manifestation of their god…” Sul explained quietly whilst peering at his maps. Ceyrabeth chuckled and sipped her wine. “…who defends the Glass Tower. It is the last known resting place of the remains of the Crown of Daymore.”

  Clang!

  The cup dropped at the same time that the elven woman’s jaw did.

  “What?!”

  “Oh aye!” Maul grinned running a hand against the boar-like stubble upon his head, “Keys to the bloody kingdom and the rulership of man.”

  “But this is the discovery of a generation! A lifetime! It must be—“ Ceyrabeth heaved a frustrated breath. She couldn’t find the words. She would cut off her ears all over again for the chance to see the Crown.

  “You’re right,” Sul commented readily before looking up, “It must be. But it will not be made by the Phoenix Legion. It is not our place to unleash knowledge of this magnitude upon the world. That responsibility shall fall upon those who would benefit more from the prestige.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Nor are you required to at this juncture, Lieutenant. For now, all that needs to be established….” Sul moved a heavy phoenix figurine over a marking over the Wilds, “…Is that these lands are no longer a point of access for the rest of the Horde.”

  “We could just finish them off,” Ceyrabeth commented darkly.

  “I will not waste time nor commit resources attacking an enemy I am not prepared to defeat,” Sul looked back at his maps, “Our men are tired, our arms in need of repair and replenishment and the enemy marches upon unfamiliar ground. The Legion is not prepared to go to war with the Taintbrood on their own territory,”
He ran a length of black silk from the phoenix figurine to a large, squat figurine located within the Bannoth Thor mountains, “We will establish a barricade here.”

  “We may not have the manpower for that,” Atiya commented in her monotone.

  “We don’t,” Sul agreed, “But the wild men amongst the Seven Tribes do and have a vested interest in keeping the Taintbrood from rampaging across their sacred hunting grounds.”

  “I’ll have messenger bats sent out,” Atiya confirmed.

  “Between the barricade here, within the southern lands, and the one at Bannoth Thor, the Taintbrood in this region are cut off. They can’t cross open territory and any Brood trapped in those tunnels will remain trapped.” Sul smiled slightly, “Severed from the rest of the Brood and the call of their Hivelord, either they’ll starve to death or tear each other apart. We’ll see.”

  Sul traced his fingers across the war table, “The remainder of the Brood will be forced to march across the open countryside of Daymore without the majority of the Underwilds offering safety or shortcuts.”

  “And that’s a good thing?” Ceyrabeth asked.

  “It is if you want to motivate various warring factions to cease quarreling and unite behind a single leader,” Pellinore commented.

  “The Hierophant’s position of authority is tied to his assertion to be able to defend Daymore against the Taintbrood without the assistance of the Chalicemen or anyone else beyond the Church. We’ll see how many ravaged fiefdoms it takes for the His Imperial Majesty’s reputation to crumble.”

  “And how many farmers, soldiers, and innocent people will die in the process?” Ceyrabeth commented icily.

  “As many as are necessary,” Her eyes narrowed but she held her tongue. He could be as ruthless as he wanted, but Ceyrabeth would keep reminding him, regardless of whether he wanted to hear it or not. At this point though, she didn’t have the energy for another one of Sul’s humiliating verbal eviscerations.

  “Blood! Death! War! Rumpy-Pumpy! Triumph!” came the roar from outside.

  “Aye!” Maul toasted from within the tent, hoisting his flagon.

  “What in the name of all that is holy was that?!” Ceyrabeth choked out as she released the death grip on her sword.