Phoenix of Hope: Complete Series — Books 1-4

by Zora Marie

  2

  “Gotcha!” Alrindel exclaimed.

  Zelia giggled as they fell back into the tall grass. “Fine, you win again Alrindel. But I am going to beat you at archery practice today.”

  “Oh really? And what about swordsmanship?” he asked with a brow raised.

  “Zelia! Come here, dear,” Eleanor called from across the pasture.

  “What did you do this time?” Alrindel asked.

  “Nothing, or at least I don’t think I did anything.”

  “Well come on, then. It’s about time for practice with Koin, anyway.”

  “Fine, race you to the fence?” She took off.

  “No fair, you got a head start.”

  “But you have longer legs!” She called over her shoulder.

  Alrindel was about to pass her when she came to a dead stop at the pasture’s edge.

  “Eadon, what’s wrong?”

  An ashen tone replaced his usual bright, happy glow. She searched his and Eleanor’s faces for the unvoiced answer. Their vacant expressions told her they were speaking telepathically, something Eleanor used occasionally, to keep conversations private.

  “Come Zelia, we are going somewhere,” Eadon finally answered.

  “Where?” she asked, the edge in his tone gave her the urge to run.

  “We will explain on the way,” Eleanor assured her.

  Silence hung over their ride to the mountains and left Zelia’s mind to race. She ran through recent events, fishing for a reason, any reason for them to act this way. She hadn’t seen their light so faded since the day they received news that many of their kin and the old King had died in the last battle of the Daemon War many years ago.

  The horses stopped and drew her from her thoughts. She looked around and saw the aged faces of many wizards, all men she had met at one point or another. She always thought the elders looked much alike, but then again, she seldom saw them, and they always wore the same grey clothing and long beards. Her favorite wizards of those who weren’t Elves, were the Dwarf Multly and the human Vainoff. Multly, the eccentric lover of The Wild, would always hold a dear place in her heart as he mumbled to the animals but never truly understood them. The elders were human, but they were older than Eleanor. The power of the guild gave them far longer lives than most.

  “We should camp here for the night,” Eleanor’s twin brother, Erolith suggested.

  “No, we should continue on,” countered the one who appeared to be the oldest of them all.

  “Erolith is right,” Asenten said, “she needs to rest before her test. Besides, it would do us well to stay within the guarded outer borders tonight.”

  Asenten’s long unkempt eyebrows darkened the shadows across his eyes, yet she caught a gleam in them that made Zelia shrink back against Eadon. The tall and crooked wizard was always among her least favorite, but something about the others this night made him seem almost inviting.

  Eadon wrapped his arms around her, his warm breath soothing against the top of her head. He took a breath as if to say something but released it in a silent sigh.

  “Eadon, why are we going towards the Darkan Mountains? You have always told me never to go north of our kingdom.”

  “That…” his voice cracked, and she tensed. His voice had never cracked in such a way, not even when Leena died.

  “He did, but now we must go there,” Eleanor replied for him, the edge in her tone warning her not to push the subject.

  They said little as they set up camp and ate. The food seemed dry and tasteless, but the wizards seemed content with the buzz from the elvish wine. For a moment, Zelia wondered what it was like, even when she drank more than her small cup, she never felt a thing. She looked back from where she sat almost touching the flames to Eadon. He had a distant look in his eye as he watched her.

  “Eadon?” she asked, coming to sit on his lap.

  “I…”

  She followed his gaze to the stern stares of the older wizards burning into them. She shrank back against Eadon’s chest and he stroked her long curls.

  “Get some sleep.” He wrapped his arms around her and leaned back against a tree. For a moment, there was silence as he let out a long slow breath, the last of it coming as a whisper, “No matter what happens, I love you.”

  “It’ll be okay,” she reassured him. She laid her head against his chest and stared at the darkness beyond the fire for what seemed like forever as Eadon hummed, wondering what silenced him and Eleanor.

  The next day, they woke early and continued their journey, traveling well into the night. The wizards talked about things she didn’t understand, tests and powers. After a while, she realized they were talking about her.

  “Her powers will emerge on their own, we just need to give them time,” Vainoff protested to the others.

  “She’s been getting sick has she not?”

  “Well, yes, but she hasn’t in a while. I’m not sure what that has to do with this.”

  “It’s a buildup of her powers, if she doesn’t have a release soon it will kill her.”

  “As soon as her powers emerge, she must train.” Asenten nodded to Zelia.

  “But I already train. What are they talking about?” Zelia turned to Eleanor for guidance since Eadon didn’t seem to be able to answer her questions.

  “You train with ordinary weapons; there are weapons beyond that.”

  “You need to know how to use a sword and a bow because your powers will drain you, but you do have powers. Possibly beyond what we have.” Erolith’s voice was gentle, but it did little to soften the weight of the others’ gazes.

  “But… I don’t have powers. I can talk to the animals, but that’s it.” She shrank back from them, a knot of worry and fear threading its way into the pit of her stomach.

  “Here, may I?” Asenten asked as they stopped at the black summit of the Darkan Mountains.

  The land before her was barren, not a single sprig of vegetation in sight. How can Darkans live here? She thought back to Eadon’s teachings about the Darkans, they were once Elves that turned away from the star light and now wished for the whole world to be in darkness. They fought the Elves, Dwarves, and humans for their love of light and connection to the gods who shine the light upon them.

  Eleanor nodded so Asenten pulled her to the side, away from the others, and knelt before her. Something had always seemed off about him; he was always overly kind to her, but it seemed strained as if he had to force himself to behave this way. The other elders were so cold and distant, it pushed her to accept his kindness despite her instincts screaming that he was a threat.

  “I know you don’t believe that you have these powers but, trust me, you do. Here, I want you to have these.” He took her hand and placed two pebble sized stones in her palm. “When the time comes, channel your powers through these and you’ll be fine.”

  She closed her hand around the white and red stones and Asenten urged her to return to the others at the peak of the mountain ridge.

  When she returned to the others, the oldest wizard stared at her even more intently than usual. She shrank back towards Eadon. The wizard looked away from her and down at the dark canyon. He said one word. “Go.”

  “What?” Zelia asked.

  “Go on, show them what you can do,” Erolith urged her forward when Eleanor couldn’t bring herself to say a word.

  “Down there? Eadon, Eleanor, what are they talking about? What am I supposed to do?” she cried. They had always taught her to never go near here, and everything about this terrified her.

  Asenten knelt and whispered in her ear, “You must go down into the canyon. You will know what to do when you get there. Do it for Eadon, be strong for him. Go on now.”

  She descended the steep slope and could hear Eadon break down and plead behind her, “She’s not ready. You can’t make her do this.”

  “It is out of my hands and it has been decided.” There was an audible crack in Eleanor’s voice. “She must do it or we risk everything.”


  Zelia could feel the edge in the air as she descended the side of the mountain. She had only been past the river a handful of times and now they expected her to do what even the Elves dared not do… walk unarmed into the land of the Darkan Mountains. Even armed the Elves avoided this place, only coming near to guard the farthest reaches of the kingdom from the Darkans whose hatred of light seemed to desolate forests with their mere presence.

  She clenched her hands tightly, each hand holding one of the little pebbles Asenten had given her. The hair on her nape stood on end when she reached a set of stone gates that led into the side of the mountain. Hordes of dark and hunched figures flooded out from behind the twisted stone pillars. The largest of them were far taller than the Elves, even with their hunched backs. They grabbed and pulled her in different directions as they fought over her. One, in particular, towered over her and licked his leathery lips. His dark wrinkled skin stretching as he snapped at the other Darkans and in her face. She screamed and frantically scanned for a familiar figure. The strange creatures were everywhere she looked. They reeked of rotten flesh and the smell alone threatened to steal her breath.

  The Darkans shoved each other as a little one elbowed his way to the front where others argued over her. Their words came out in a rush and mingled together, making them impossible for her to understand more than a word or two. The little one pressed a blade into her side, the cold and jagged metal biting into her skin, and her nails dug into her palms as her warm blood ran down her side. As fear burned through her, one arm erupted in flames, her other turning to ice. The Darkans holding her shrieked and scrambled away, some flaming and others clasping ice covered limbs.

  A surge of pain ripped through her as her bones cracked, and her blood boiled where ice met fire. The two halves ate at each other, tearing her apart. She gave a blood-curdling scream and collapsed to her knees. Even though the flames and ice were a part of her she still felt the searing heat and the bite of the cold penetrate to her core as the two shredded her very being.

  With one last surge of energy, the pain disappeared, and everything went black.

  For what seemed like years she lingered in a void, feeling something move her, shift her, and pull her back together; the pain was agonizing as her broken body lay on the cold, uneven ground.

  “Oh, thank goodness, you’ve come back! Do you know who I am?” The man’s long beard appeared to be blue in the light of his staff, but the shadow of his hat shrouded his eyes.

  She propped herself up on one arm and surveyed her dimly lit surroundings. The air was stale and had a metallic tang to it, no light shone in from the outside world. The damp chill of the cave cut right through her and sent her into an uncontrollable shiver. She looked down at her shaking hands.

  “What happened?”

  “What can you recall?”

  “Darkans and darkness. I… I died. I should be dead.”

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “Asenten.”

  She shot to her feet in a sudden panic, recalling bits and pieces of her final day. She remembered the pain, the faces of the Darkans, the blade, and the horrid stench.

  “Where’s Eadon?”

  Her legs buckled beneath her and sent her crashing to the ground, pins and needles jabbing through her every muscle. It was almost a welcome pain as the memory of her body exploding and trying to reform lingered. She could almost feel how the ashes and crystals of ice were swept up, and how each piece struggled to reform what she was now.

  “My poor dear, have no fear. Eadon can’t hurt you anymore.” Asenten wrapped a blanket around her to shield her from the cold.

  “What do you mean hurt me anymore? He never hurt me.”

  “Tsk, tsk, Eleanor must have meddled with your mind more than I feared.”

  “No! Eleanor would never do that!” She pulled away.

  “Careful, it’ll take you a while to get used to being back in your body.”

  “What? So, I did die… but I never left it. Where are we?”

  “We’re in the only place that I can shield you from the others. There’s something else I must tend to. Whatever you do, do not follow me, and stay in the cave or Eleanor will find you.”

  “Wait, you’re leaving me?”

  “Yes, but only for a short while. Rest assured I’ll be back. Here’s some food.” He placed a leather pack at her feet. “Remember, whatever you do, do not leave this place.”

  With a blinding flash of his staff, he disappeared, only the echoes of his magic lingered in the cave.

  For the next several hours she didn’t move and didn’t eat. She just sat and stared into the darkness, all the while she fought to understand Asenten’s words. She knew that Eleanor could sway people’s minds, but could she change someone’s memories? Had Eadon hurt her? She had so many questions and so few answers, but she knew one thing for sure. She shouldn’t be alive.

  Zelia’s exhausted body and mind gave in to sleep, but it wasn’t long before she stirred to something tapping her foot.

  “Zelia, wake up.”

  Even still half asleep, she could hear how forced his tone seemed, as if he were on the verge of screaming at her.

  “Hmmm, Asenten? Did I do something wrong?” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

  “No, no, my dear. You didn’t do anything. Come, on your feet.”

  She squinted against the glow of his staff and steadied herself on the damp wall.

  “Here, I have something for you.” He held a sword out to her. “This is for you. Do you see that stone in the hilt?” She took the short sword and brought it closer to her face for a closer look. “That’s a fire stone, just like the one I gave you that day on the side of the mountain.”

  With a jolt, she threw the sword away and cowered in the corner. The echoes of the sword chattering against the cave floor pounded in her ears, like great war drums.

  “Heavens, child, it won’t hurt you. Well, not so long as you don’t use ice at the same time. Come on out of the corner,” he coaxed. She edged from the corner but stayed clear of the sword. “Well go on, pick it up.” When she shook her head, he strode towards her and shoved her towards the sword. “I said pick it up!”

  Her heart wrenched in surprise as she dropped and, in that moment, her fear of Asenten was greater than her fear of the stone. She grabbed the sword from the cave floor, instinct and Koin’s training took over, she flipped around and kept the point of the sword between her and Asenten.

  “So, Koin did teach you a bit about the sword after all! Very good, now get up.”

  She stood with her back to the wall.

  “Now light the sword, like you did the pebble on the mountain. Do it, or I’ll leave you in the dark.” He let the glow of his staff fade.

  Something whirled around and smashed against her side. There was another swish of air and she lit the sword, but it didn’t give more than a flicker of light before she fell to her knees. Her muscles already burned as if she had trained for hours when all she had done was light a simple flame.

  “This won’t do,” Asenten muttered to himself and kicked a bag at her before mumbling on his way out of the cave.

  As soon as he had gone, she fell over and closed her eyes, welcoming the rest that called her. Some part of her knew she should eat, but she couldn’t bring herself to fumble around with the bag.

  3

  Distorted voices echoed through the cave and stirred her from her slumber. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stumbled towards the voices. With each bend of the cave their chants grew louder.

  Before she reached them, they quieted until they were speaking rather than chanting. Their voices blended together as if there were a single person with Asenten, but the shadows from around the last bend in the cave showed otherwise.

  “Does she know?”

  “No, she doesn’t know that we are her creators. It appears the Elves kept her in the dark on a lot of things, as if they could hide what she is.”

  “Lik
e anyone could hide such a beast from the world. Eleanor may be powerful, but even she can’t do that.”

  “You’re right on that, Zelia may look human, but she’s just a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

  “You’re still calling her by the name Eadon gave her?”

  “What else am I supposed to call her? It’s not like I could even just call her by her species since she crosses so many races.”

  An inaudible grumble echoed through the cave.

  “Fine! Just don’t go getting attached to her like Eadon and Eleanor; she’s a weapon, nothing more and nothing less.”

  Zelia turned to run from their words and tripped on the cave’s uneven floor. Her cry when she hit the floor sent echoes through the cave.

  A hand, grasping a chunk of her hair, yanked her around the last bend in the cave tunnel before she could push herself back to her feet. She grabbed at the hand, trying to stop the searing pain in her scalp. They thrust her into the center of the wizards’ circle. She squinted her eyes against the blinding light that lit the cave. The butt of one of their staffs drove into her chest and pushed her harder against the cave floor with every breath, the uneven floor digging into her back.

  “What do we have here? Someone is putting their nose where it doesn’t belong. So, what shall we do with it?”

  “We should teach it a lesson, eavesdropping is very, very bad,” sneered one wizard, amusement at the idea played across his face.

  “Yes, then we can use her blood to bind her soul here.”

  “That’s enough, we don’t want her knowing too much.”

  The gleam of steel flying towards her caught her eye a moment before the cold blade cut through her neck. What happened next didn’t hit her until the last of her breath gurgled out and the blackness overcame her once more. She could feel her blood pool around her, turning cold, long after her last breath. She could no longer hear the wizards, but she could feel her muscles, skin, and veins pull back together at an agonizing pace.