Phoenix of Hope: Complete Series — Books 1-4

by Zora Marie

  Caught up in his own feelings of excitement, Rog flashed a broad smile. “You know, we could learn together!”

  “And I can teach you to fight, well, once you’re healed,” said Terik from his stone perch above the rocky shore.

  Zelia forced a smile and looked back and forth between them. “I’d love that.” She drew a deep breath, steeling herself, and sat against Terik’s rocky perch.

  “Are you okay?” Rog asked.

  Her fingers dug into her side as she let out the breath she held. “I’ll be fine, it just hurts.”

  She could feel Terik’s gaze as his blurred form climbed down the side of the rock.

  “She doesn’t look so well. We should get her back inside.”

  No. She shook her head. She didn’t want to go back inside, but the lid she kept on her pain slipped, the steady trickle that leaked out swelling to a torrent. All the pain she had suppressed swelled to the surface, and she leaned forward, gasping.

  “Guard! Help! Come quickly!” was the last thing she heard as she fell into Rog’s arms.

  She opened her eyes to find Yalif checking her temperature, as sweat dripped from her brow.

  “Zelia, how are you feeling?”

  “F... fine.”

  “You should be dead,” he said with a puzzled look.

  “You’re right, I should be.”

  She sighed and refused to meet his gaze.

  “Zelia, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

  “I don’t think Asenten was trying to kill Yargo, though the spell could have if he was any of the other wizards. No, he was trying to kill me. I just don’t know why.”

  “Why would he use a spell strong enough to kill a god to kill you?”

  “Because I can’t die, at least not really. I still remember how it felt as they swept up my ashes and the pain as my body took years to reconstruct the first time. It’s strange how I can heal from that, yet normal injuries linger.”

  “How? You’re not a phoenix,” Yalif said, his eyebrows knit in confusion.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. I... I just can’t let myself or my powers hurt anyone else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My powers are only meant to hurt people, even me.” She sat up, her chest screaming in protest, but she ignored it.

  “Magic is not meant to hurt. I’m sure Yargo and the others will do all they can to help you.”

  “If they don’t find out…” she muttered to herself.

  “Find out what?”

  She shook her head and a silent moment passed before Yargo appeared in the doorway.

  “Thank you Yalif, I will take her from here,” Yargo said.

  I never should have told him. I never should have told anyone, she thought as Yalif withdrew from the room.

  Yargo sat beside her and waited until she shifted under his gaze.

  “You know, if you feel the need to talk, you can always talk to Lumid or myself. There is nothing you need to hide from us.”

  Caught in thoughts of the past an image rose before her eyes, one of a pleading man’s face with blood dripping from the little boy he held tight in his arms. She swallowed hard, shivered, and shook herself back to the present.

  “Why do you trust me? You don’t know me. How do you… how do you know I won’t hurt you or your family?” Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she refused to let them spill over.

  Yargo gave a small, sad smile. “I don’t know for certain, but I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt us on purpose. You proved that when you were willing to sacrifice yourself to protect me and my men. Rogath told me how your powers react to one another. I know your ribs shattered like that because you used ice to protect us when you shouldn’t have.”

  “That’s just it, I did it for selfish reasons. I wanted you to kill Asenten. But…” She pulled away, unable to do anything but loathe herself and what she had become.

  Yargo swept her hair out of her face.

  “Zelia, there is no shame in wanting to be free of an abusive captor. Even if it means that the captor must die in order for you to do so.”

  “It wasn’t abuse I sought to escape. He... he forced me to kill people for him. THAT is why I had to get free of his control. I just can’t. I can’t keep doing that. And yet I’m here.”

  Caught up in the webs of her past, her chest tightened and pressed against the metal plate. She clenched her teeth against the pain. She couldn’t help but feel as though this might have been part of the wizards’ plans all along. A flicker of movement from the hallway drew her attention to Rog and Terik’s approach and she shifted away from Yargo, pulling herself back together as she did.

  “Perfect timing, you all need to get to dinner, and I need to go tend to my official duties.”

  “She’s seen through my eyes. She knows you’re the keeper of fallen warriors and must see to them each night. You don’t need to hide it,” Rog said. “Come on, let’s go get you something warm to eat. That’ll be a first in a while.”

  He grabbed her hand and turned on his heels to lead her away.

  8

  “Praise the gods, she lives!” Barg elbowed Gaeru and pointed to her as she entered the dining hall.

  “Nice to see you’re still kicking,” Gaeru said.

  She just glanced at him and took her seat beside Rog, at the far end of the table.

  “I thought you said she lost half of her rib cage, and you could see her heart.”

  With a laugh, another warrior continued, “I wonder how many other times you’ve over exaggerated things!”

  “He wasn’t exaggerating,” Zelia nearly whispered it, yet they all heard.

  Everyone at the table turned towards her, food fell from their forks as they sat in silence. None of them even made a move to regain the fallen pork from their stew. She wasn’t sure if it was what she said or the fact she knew their language. Language, she mused. It was one of the few things Asenten never took from her, he would even come in speaking different languages from time to time, as though he wanted her to keep the knowledge of each of them.

  “Then... then how are you alive, let alone already up and moving?” one of them broke the uneasy silence.

  She stared out at the stars to avoid their gaze. “I... I’ve grown accustomed to being in pain.”

  “So, Gaeru, tell us how you defeated the wizard,” Rog interposed to take the warriors’ focus off Zelia.

  “Actually, she made a wall of ice in front of us before we even realized what he was doing. After his attempt to attack us, it was easy to defeat him. Zelia, why didn’t you kill him yourself?”

  “Because, he cast a spell so that anything I did to him would happen to me. I would have gladly killed him long ago. Still, I tried on occasion.” Her gaze fell from the stars, and a veil of hair shielded her face from their stares.

  Caught up in the past and her inability to stop Asenten herself, ice crept across her chair. Without so much as a word, Rog pried her hand from the arm of the chair. She dug her nails into her palm and pulled from Rog’s grasp. Why did you do that? I trained you better than that! Asenten’s voice boomed in her mind. She shook her head. No, he’s gone now. He can’t control you anymore.

  “So, who wants to tell me about the war with the old gods tonight?” Terik interjected.

  With a grin spread ear to ear, Barg rambled off about how he fought giant creatures and the old gods. Her mind running with thoughts of how she could have hurt Rog, Zelia didn’t listen to Barg.

  “Rogath, I’m going for a walk.”

  “Would you like me to come?”

  “No, finish eating.”

  With that, she stood and slipped from the room. She wasn’t going anywhere in particular but found herself back on the balcony. It wasn’t long before the shush of a gliding step approached.

  “It’s amazing how different the stars appear from here.” When Rog sat, she continued, “Thank you for stopping me back there.”

  He flashed that little tricks
ter grin of his, the one she had only ever felt him give, never seen and said, “Don’t mention it. Would... would you show me how to do the ice thing? The little sculptures you used to make.”

  “You saw those?” It had been years since she had risked making one.

  “They were beautiful. You can do things like that again, you’re free.”

  Nodding, she cupped her hands together. As she pulled them apart a glass, or rather ice, figure of a howling wolf grew in her hand. Without even a pause to admire her own work she dropped the ice figure into Rog’s hand.

  “It’s beautiful,” he gasped.

  Unsure of how to reply to the compliment, Zelia watched Rog admire the detail in her work. Without being in his head, she wasn’t sure if he meant it or was merely trying to make her feel better.

  “There you are! I’ve been searching all over for you two,” Terik’s voice rang through the hall.

  “You didn’t search too hard, brother, as we have been here the entire time.”

  He ignored Rog’s snide comment and plopped down on the balcony. “So, what’s it like having all this awesome power you are supposed to have?”

  Rog gave Terik a look that could kill and Zelia retreated from them, leaving the balcony.

  “Terik doesn’t mean anything by it,” Rog said when he caught up to her. “He doesn’t know.”

  She stopped mid-stride. “I know Rog, it’s just, I don’t want to talk about it. I never should have mentioned anything about it earlier, I just…”

  “I know, I saw what happened.” Rog pulled her into a gentle hug. “It haunts me too, and I’m not the one who did it. I can’t imagine being… You know, you look exhausted. How about we go get some rest?”

  She nodded and Rog took her hand, leading her towards their chambers, a place her connection to Rog had taken her many times. She didn’t even feel the urge to pull away from his touch as she was lost in her thoughts, numb to the world around her.

  They came upon an open door and Rog announced, “This is your room. My room is right next door, and Terik’s room is just across the hallway. Mother and Father’s room is two doors down on the right.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, though she didn’t feel her own words.

  “You’re welcome. Good night Zelia,” Rog said. She could feel him glance back one more time before he pulled the door closed behind him.

  For hours she tossed and turned, the insistent pain from the metal plate that hung and pushed on her ribs made sleep impossible. Even the strange comfort of the bed pushed her to move to the cool stone floor. It was the early hours of the next day before exhaustion overcame her and she dozed off on her side.

  9

  As sleep came, she was thrust into the past.

  A chill ran down her spine not a second before the crack of a whip and searing pain hit her. The warmth of blood washed across her back, almost tickling as it spilled onto the cave floor. Tears dripped down her face as she clenched her teeth to bite back a yelp of pain. She squinted through her tears at blue light reflecting off the stone. She had to stop crying.

  Sharp pain ripped through her cutting her dream short as she convulsed. Her eyes flashed open in time to see the last of the sparks fly from her chest, the end of Yargo’s staff pressed against her. The mass of the convulsions passed, and she gasped for air like a fish out of water.

  “Your heart stopped. I... I couldn’t feel your presence,” the familiar voice cracked in her ear then his face came into view as he scooped her into a hug.

  With each painful gasp for air, she recalled more of the events of the past few days. Then she realized that what she had just seen was a dream, a piece of the past that would forever stay with her.

  Yargo excused a guard as Terik, and Zivu came in the room. Zelia could see the concern in his face and her mind raced to piece the puzzle of all that had happened back together.

  “What’s all the commotion about?” Terik asked as he stretched with his arms raised high above his head.

  No one replied, they just stood in silence. When Rog released Zelia from his hug, she sat back against the side of the bed and shook. A dull pain still emanated from her heart and she watched those around her through a haze of exhaustion and pain.

  “We will talk about it in the morning. You boys should go back to bed,” Yargo said.

  “I’m staying here.” Rog shook his head in protest.

  Oblivious to what had just happened, Terik yawned and turned towards the door. “I for one am going back to bed.”

  Yargo held Rog’s stare for a moment before relenting.

  “Okay Rog, you keep watch over her then. Yalif will be here soon.”

  “Do I need to keep her awake?”

  She was aware of Yargo watching her as she fought to keep her eyes open, the electric shock and all the events of the days past had zapped her energy.

  “No, just keep a close eye on her until Yalif gets here.”

  Zelia edged away as Rog scooted over next to her, her thoughts were scrambled but her fear of hurting others drove her to push away. It wasn’t long before she couldn’t fight it any longer and her eyes closed. She relaxed and a warmth spread through her as her head rested against Rogath’s shoulder.

  It seemed as though she had only just shut her eyes when she woke to Terik crouching over her.

  “Talk about bed head! Or rather floor head. And I thought mine was bad.” Terik raised a matted piece of Rog’s hair.

  “Oh yeah? Taste some pillow!” Rog whacked the back of Terik’s head.

  Terik pulled a pillow from the bed to counter and Zelia moved from their path before she could get caught in the middle of their mighty pillow war. As she watched the boys fight, she found that she was glad they didn’t tiptoe around her like she was some fragile little thing.

  “Good morning to you too, Terik.” She ran her fingers through her tangled mess of hair.

  At the sound of her voice, Terik stopped mid swing and Rog’s whack sprawled him out on the floor.

  “Now you’re going to get it!” Terik threw himself into Rog and they both tumbled over the bed.

  Before they could escalate their bickering any further, Zelia stepped between them.

  “That’s enough. Why must you two take a nice pillow fight into an all-out wrestling match?” she said, half-teasing. It felt nice to tease and joke after so long in the cave, but part of her still glanced around for the hand that would strike her.

  “I did no such thing.” Rog brushed little white feathers from his pajamas.

  She gave him a ‘really, you’re going to go there?’ look and shook her head, hoping the banter would help ease his worry.

  It was at that moment that Yargo, and Zivu appeared in the doorway.

  “Good to see you made it through the night. I see the boys have already set you to work keeping the peace,” Yargo said with a hint of a grin.

  Zivu ushered her husband and sons out.

  “Well go on now, it is time for breakfast. Zelia, I would like to speak with you for a moment.”

  Once Yargo and the boys left, Zivu continued. “How would you like to have some dresses? We wouldn’t want anyone making fun of you for your attire now, would we? Besides, we can’t have you running around in Rogath’s pajamas all day.”

  “Lady Zivu, that would be lovely,” she rushed the words out so as not to offend her. “Will they hide my scars?”

  She knew they would fade in time, but for now she wished to keep them hidden. It wasn’t the scars themselves that bothered her, rather the pity she saw and felt in the gazes of the warriors.

  “I am sure we can arrange that. Come dear I want you to meet Dain, our fashion designer extraordinaire.”

  Something brushed against her back, and she reared away from the unexpected touch. The moment she turned, her stomach dropped. Zivu was staring at her with wide eyes, shock clear on her face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, turning away from her.

  “No,” Zivu took a shaky breath, �
��I’m sorry.”

  Zelia was staring at the floor when a slender shadow stretched across the room and drew her attention. A regal man entered with a measuring tape draped across his shoulders, the smooth trim of his black beard complimented his wide grin.

  “At your service your highness,” he began, with a grand bow. “This is the girl? My, I have my work cut out for me! Such a beautiful young lady.”

  Zelia shifted her feet, unsettled by the complement.

  “I see you know not of your own beauty,” he said as he measured her height. “Tell me Zelia, has no one ever complimented you before?”

  “Not in a very long time.” She turned her face from his gaze.

  She winced when he raised her arms and wrapped his cloth tape measure around her chest. As quickly as the expression came, she forced it from her features, though every connection of the metal plate to her ribs still pulsed with each breath.

  “Oh, I see.” The glimmer in Dain’s eyes faded. “Well, I am here to tell you that you are beautiful, now let’s make you feel like it. So, what is your favorite color?”

  She stared out at the sky. “Blue,” she said wistfully. It had been so long since she had seen the sky with her own eyes that it was all she could think about when her memories didn’t plague her.

  “Then blue it shall be,” he said as he turned to walk out of the room.

  “So, how long has it been since you gave your hair a proper brushing?” Zivu asked as she grabbed a brush from the vanity at the far end of the room.

  How long has it been?

  “You don’t know how long you were in that cave, do you?”

  No, it was easier not to think about it, to let the decades blend together. She shook her head. It must have been centuries. Dwarves live too long for it to have been less with how old the last prince was and having never heard of Connan before.

  Her shoulders sagged with the thought of how many years she had spent in that cave. Centuries spent killing and torturing people. Years without seeing the sky, the stars, and only fractions of sunlight. Years spent alone.