Phoenix of Hope: Complete Series — Books 1-4

by Zora Marie

  “Zelia?” Zivu’s voice cracked. “My poor—”

  “Please, please, just don’t. I don’t deserve your pity, not with what I’ve done.” She pulled away from Zivu’s nearing touch and sagged against the wall on the far side of the bed, back turned to Zivu.

  “Zelia, that’s enough self-pity, you have to snap out of this!” Zivu snapped at her.

  Zelia reeled at Zivu’s sudden change in demeanor.

  “You think this is self-pity? I hate myself and everything that I’ve done and what I’ve become. I’d kill myself if I actually could die! I deserve all the torture and pain Fregnar sees fit to offer for what I’ve done. I’ve tortured people, even children in front of their parents. I should have destroyed myself over and over again instead of hurting all those other people, but I was weak. I couldn’t make myself do it. No, I don’t deserve anyone’s pity. I only deserve hatred, even from myself.”

  Her lungs burned from her rant and she clasped her chest, leaning against the post of the bed as she struggled to suck in air.

  “Oh Zelia, you don’t deserve that, no matter what you may think. Now look at me. You will put this behind you and you will thank Dain when he comes back in here with a dress. You understand me?”

  Zelia nodded, orders were one thing she could take, even if she didn’t believe she could follow through with them.

  “Now, let’s get these knots out of your hair.”

  The stiff bristled brush caught and tugged on her hair. Every few strokes Zivu stopped and picked knots out by hand before brushing over them again.

  “My, what beautiful hair you have,” Dain’s voice rang as he entered the room.

  He held a sky-blue dress draped across his arms. Zelia gave a faint smile. “Thank you.”

  She took the dress behind a dressing screen and pulled it over her head before stepping back out.

  “See? You are beautiful. May I?” Dain asked as he tied the back of the dress.

  The dress was long-sleeved and came up around her neck with gold lace trim. The material was silky and smooth with an almost metallic feel to it. It was so lightweight that it didn’t hurt as it pressed against her more recent wounds.

  When she looked in the mirror, she couldn’t quite believe that the girl looking back at her was her own reflection. She had never worn such a lovely article of clothing before, not even when she lived with Eleanor and Eadon.

  “It’s beautiful,” Zelia whispered and glanced at Dain’s reflection in the mirror.

  With a soft grin, Zivu pulled part of Zelia’s hair up in a little blue ribbon. Zelia felt it was unnecessary but didn’t dare voice her opinion of it.

  “There’s that beautiful young lady. Thank you, Dain, spectacular work as usual. Now, let’s go join the boys for breakfast.”

  Terik and Yargo were first to see them enter the royal dining hall. When Rog noticed their awed faces, he turned to see what they were staring at. He did a double take but finally managed to force words out of his mouth.

  “Wow! Zelia you look, um, fantastic.”

  Yargo gave Zivu a nod of approval before addressing Zelia. “What would you like for breakfast young lady?”

  Zelia seated herself at the massive dining table and glanced to Rog’s plate.

  “The same thing as Rog,” she said.

  She found the amount of food people ate here astounding compared to what she had been allowed in the cave, though it never seemed to be so much through Rogath’s eyes.

  “Ah good choice, beignets are delicious,” Yargo replied as a cook brought in a fresh plate.

  Zelia soon discovered why Rog liked beignets so much. They were delicious; their little dash of powdered sugar adding just a hint of sweetness to the exquisite flavor as they melted across her tongue like the bread she had as a small child. She scanned the table and found the delectable little pieces to be out of place against the others’ plain breads and meats. Part of her wanted to question their origin, but she found she couldn’t as the first sweet thing she had eaten in what seemed like forever pulled her in.

  When they stood from the table, Yargo said, “Zelia, if you feel up to it, I want you to go to magic practice with Rog and when you are finished you and Rog will join Terik for combat training. You two must not be relying solely on your magical abilities, but I would rather you just watch for now.”

  Rog looked to his mother.

  “You two go ahead. I’ll be right out.”

  Zelia and Rog gave a quick nod and headed off down the hallway.

  “Rog, what do you think Zivu wanted to talk to Yargo about?”

  “Hm? Oh, you know, I don’t know.”

  “The great Rogath doesn’t know? Well that’s a first.”

  “Hey! So, you do have a sense of humor.”

  He moved to elbow her playfully but stopped short and stared. She could see the joy fade as his thoughts churned.

  “I know you so well, yet I feel there are things you have yet to tell.”

  She shifted her feet and lowered her gaze to the stone path leading out the open doorway.

  “Rogath, I…” She stopped and let out a shaky sigh.

  “It’s alright. You’ll share when you’re ready.”

  He offered her a reserved smile and took her hand.

  “Come on, we need to get to the pavilion before Mother.”

  10

  “You should have started practicing without me Rogath,” Zivu said as she entered the little open-aired, pillared building.

  “I wasn’t sure what we would work on today since Zelia is here.”

  “She can practice with you.”

  “Um, I can’t use water magic,” Zelia said.

  “You can control ice, it’s not all that much different from water.”

  “I know I should be able to, but I can’t. I’m not like Rog, fire and ice are the only two I can control.”

  Zivu studied her for a moment, then sighed.

  “Alright, well, I’d still like to see what you can do.”

  “Mother, maybe we should wait,” Rog said.

  “No, I can show her. What would you like me to do?”

  “Let’s start by freezing the water in the podium. Show me how fast you can make it freeze.”

  Zelia walked over and stood at the edge of the water-filled stone podium. She touched the top of the water and it froze in an instant. Instead of expanding up, the ice expanded out and cracked the stone podium.

  She glanced down at the floor as it turned a frosty white.

  “Stop.” Rog lifted her hand from the ice. “You’ll heal slower if you’re not careful.”

  “Rog.” She jerked her hand from his.

  “How? Very few can freeze water like that.” Zivu pried her gaze away from the cracked podium to Zelia. “Heal slower?” she asked as what Rog had said registered.

  “Like she said, her powers are not like ours.”

  “Rogath, you don’t understand,” Zelia almost spoke under her breath.

  “What? I know how your powers work.”

  “I’m not talking about that. The spell Asenten used, I think he was trying to kill me, not stop your father.”

  “What? Why would he do that?”

  “He knew he couldn’t beat Yargo, and the wizards weren’t about to let me fall into your hands. That’s why Yalif couldn’t remove some of the shrapnel in my heart and lungs. Most of the damage from that blast won’t be undone. There is no point in waiting for me to heal.”

  “Why didn’t you say something about all this before? What about all of your other injuries?” Zivu asked.

  “Because it doesn’t change anything. Yalif didn’t know of my ability to heal, but that’s just as well since I won’t heal from this. The scars from the other injuries will fade, it just takes time.”

  “Alright,” Zivu paused, “let’s work on improving your skills for then, Rogath.”

  Zivu looked at the podium and heaved a sigh.

  “We’ll practice at the pond today. Zelia, you
can watch.”

  Zelia sat and leaned back against a column as Rog practiced at the pond where he had so proudly shown her his abilities. At first, he struggled as he kept glancing back at her.

  “Remember to let your emotions flow like the water, use them to shape what you want,” Zivu instructed.

  Finally, he made a snake rise from the water. It was weird to watch him practice from such a strange angle, as she had grown used to seeing through his eyes. She saw the snake twist and turn and weave through the air with each change of Rog’s expression and wave of his hand. With creases raised across his brow, he forced the water to evaporate into a mist that hovered over the pond.

  “Very good, now make the mist condense back into water,” Zivu encouraged him.

  His forehead scrunched even further in concentration and water droplets formed from the mist. They dropped back into the water like rain. Their pitter patter reminded her of the sound of rain hitting the lake of her childhood home.

  It was hours later when Zivu stopped him. “Very good, Rog. I think that’s enough for today; off to the arena with you.”

  The chill of the marble stairs bit through the thin soles of Zelia’s shoes and reminded her of the cave, yet it highlighted the stark contrast of the sun’s gleam off the white stone. Like any day she had seen through Rog’s eyes, Terik trained in the center of the gigantic oval stadium. She watched Steffon’s posture, his movement, and recalled everything she knew about him, down to the expression he made when he was about to lunge.

  When they reached the dirt floor of the stadium, all eyes turned to Zelia, and her confidence shrank back. What if I mess up with all these people watching? No, snap out of it. This isn’t a place you can afford to fail. Do it for Koin. Asenten may have sharpened your skills, but it was Koin who laid the foundation.

  Steffon stopped and turned towards them, he bowed with a swing of his sword.

  “Steffon, at your service, my lady. How may I be of service?” His slicked back hair gleamed in the midday sun.

  “Yargo has requested that I train with Rog and Terik.”

  “I see. Well, you came to the right place my dear. So how much experience do you have?” His little mustache turned up with his smile.

  Terik had jumped at the chance to take a break and leaned against one of the wooden pells, where he watched her with eager eyes.

  “A little.” She pulled a sword from the rack and checked its balance before trying another. “I’ve always preferred working with a bow, but I haven’t used one in ages.” With a sword that seemed somewhat balanced in her hand, she turned back towards Steffon.

  “Really? Why a bow?”

  “That’s just what I am best at, but in its absence, I’ve gotten better at using a sword.”

  “Okay, show me what you got. Terik, would you help me out? Start off easy.”

  Terik lifted the point of his sword at her.

  “Maybe that’s not such a good idea.” Rog moved to step between them.

  “It’s okay Rog,” Zelia assured.

  At first, she took it slow, being careful not to strain her ribs, but soon, Terik pushed her a little further. He swung his sword down from the right. Zelia raised the hilt of her sword with the blade stretched across her front to deflect Terik’s strike.

  She caught his upward strike and faltered, the stretch of her ribs stole her breath in a spike of pain. Black dots invaded her vision, and she grabbed her side with her free hand, but she was still unwilling to release her sword.

  “Terik,” Steffon’s tone warned that Terik had pushed it too far.

  She wavered in agony, about to collapse, when Terik grabbed her. Zelia tensed at his touch, but her body faltered and forced her to allow Terik to keep her upright. She drew in a long slow breath and the skipping beat of her heart pounded against the metal plate.

  After what felt like ages, the spots and pain receded. She let out the breath and shoved herself away from Terik, taking his sword with her. She still held her side with one arm as she warned Terik, “You should never let your guard down for anyone, especially me.”

  “I think that’s enough for today. Zelia, are you okay?” Steffon’s tone softened when he addressed her.

  “I’m fine. I just need to get used to the metal plate.”

  “What plate?” Steffon eyed her with suspicion. “Wait, you’re the one everyone has been talking about. The one that has shrapnel in her chest and a metal plate holding her rib cage together?”

  She nodded.

  “But that was just a few days ago. You shouldn’t be up and around, let alone performing that kind of swordplay!” Steffon took a deep breath and rubbed a hand down his face. “Well, I think that’s enough practice for today.”

  “No, Rog just got here. Don’t stop on my account. I’ll be fine.” She slid the sword back into the wooden rack, the sound of metal gliding across wood causing her pause.

  “Zelia?” With her name called, she released the sword.

  “I’m fine Rog. I’m... I’m just going to go for a walk,” she faltered, unused to the freedom to do anything other than hide in the corner and bide her time. She turned away from him and climbed the stairs. She could feel the pitying stares of the men as she passed. She froze, images of those who had shown her pity and kindness in their final moments flooded through her mind. It was those people that made her hate being pitied even more than feared, as their faces and last screams haunted her more than all the cursing men and women combined. She forced her mind from her thoughts and continued up the stairs in a shroud of eerie silence.

  11

  Faced with the backs of men, she halted at the top of the stairs. “Did you hear about that girl from Mineria?”

  “I heard she had a gaping hole in her chest, doubt she’ll make it.”

  “No, I heard she ate dinner with the warriors last night.”

  “Impossible! Even if she did live, she shouldn’t be up and moving anytime soon.”

  Please don’t let them see me, she thought as she skirted around the group.

  “Wait, that’s her!” one man shouted over the banter of the others.

  “What?” They turned towards her and their stares spurred her to pick up the pace.

  She darted inside the nearby stables and slid down the post just inside the door. A nervous bleat rang from the goats mashed in the corner of the nearest stall. For a moment she stared back at the goats, struggling to catch her breath.

  “Shh, it’s okay. I won’t harm you,” Zelia assured them in the language of the animals.

  A scruffy black and white buck perked his ears forward as he approached and smelled her with an upturned lip. He turned to the others. “I don’t know about this one, she speaks our language, but she smells funny.”

  With their language spoken by an unknown voice, all the horses peered over their stall doors. There was a wide range of horse-like creatures, everything from a pegasus and a gold-maned stallion to a simple bay horse.

  “What language was that you were speaking just now?” a voice asked from behind her. She spun around, facing the rather scrawny stable hand.

  “Um, truthfully, I don’t know what it’s called. But all animals seem to speak it.”

  “I’ve never heard that language, where did you learn it? And who are you?” His blue eyes searched her up and down as if regarding a thief.

  “Oh, I’m Zelia.” She bowed her head, a custom of what had become a past life. “And I don’t know where I learned it, I suppose from the animals since I’d spent a lot of time listening to them.”

  He still eyed her with suspicion, unable to place her.

  “I’m a guest of Yargo,” she informed him, but that did not make him any more sure of her. “I’m staying with Rog and Terik.” She realized he was still unsure of her and sighed before continuing, “I’m the one everyone is talking about from Mineria.”

  “Oh, yeah, I have heard about you. But what are you doing in the stables?”

  “Getting away for a whil
e.” She stroked a big bay horse.

  The stable hand nodded, a knowing look spreading across his face as if running to the stables was the natural thing for a person to do when they needed to get away from the world for a while.

  “I see, well just be careful of that one, he bites.”

  She stared into the horse’s eyes. She could feel his tromp below the surface. He longed to be as free as the wind to go wherever the current took him, whether that be through mountains or over sea.

  “He only bites because he doesn’t like being cooped up in here. May I take him out for a ride?” She fought the smile that crept across her lips.

  “I’m not sure about that. No one has been able to ride him.”

  “I can, would you give me a lift?” She gave into a grin, and her soul fluttered. It had been so long that she had forgotten what it felt like to give a genuine smile.

  “Just be careful,” he agreed, a hint of reservation in his voice.

  “I will,” she assured him as she swung her leg over the horse’s back.

  Leaving the stables, she let the horse pick his own path through the woods. Zelia locked her thoughts out and just absorbed the peace and tranquility of the world around her.

  “So, what’s your name?” she asked when the horse stopped for a drink from a small secluded pond.

  “Thunder. Thank you for getting me out of there,” the animal said when he lifted his head from his drink.

  “You’re welcome; I could tell you hate it in there. I’ll talk to Yargo and see if the stable boy can put you out to pasture from now on.” She played with the coarse hairs of his mane.

  Thunder shook as he raised his head a little higher. Zelia smiled and regained her balanced seat, she had forgotten how good it felt to ride. Her smile faded, and she turned in thought. What else have I forgotten? Things, little things I hadn’t pushed away…

  “That’d be nice, so where do you want to go?” he asked.

  “It won’t be long before someone starts looking for me, we’d better head back.”