Phoenix Rising

by Ephie Risho

  He stared at the clouds, and his eyes moistened. “When she finally died, of course I was sad, but I also swore to myself not to let people suffer like that. I mean, people die all the time, but half of my mom’s suffering was knowing she wouldn’t talk to her sister ever again. I didn’t really know about couriers at the time, but I met one a few months later, and it was less than a year after that I decided to become one myself.”

  He smiled and shrugged. “It was good to get out of town. Being in other places helped me think about other things.”

  “Makes sense to me.”

  “I’ve traveled all over the entire kingdom of Arendon, as far south as Valencia. I seem to spend a lot of time in Lugo.”

  “Have you ever seen the king?”

  “Just from a distance. Feels like the general there runs things more than the king, though. He’s the one who actually deals with the people, anyway.”

  They grew quiet and listened to the forest. A gentle breeze blew across their faces, and some nearby birds chattered to each other. The forest seemed peaceful, and Amber enjoyed the feeling of connection she had with it whenever she was away from the village. Maybe that was part of why she wanted to leave?

  She began to sing an old traveling song.

  As I wander through the land,

  Times of peace are here at hand,

  Beauty small and beauty grand,

  For my pleasure.

  Birds are singing in the trees,

  Lights are spinning by at ease,

  Love and life are in the breeze,

  Beyond measure.

  Ryder smiled as she sang. Her voice was crisp and beautiful. The sun was bright enough to light the dirt road through the trees, and the two friends continued to appreciate the beauty around them as they rounded hill after hill toward the east. Finally, the road split, and they turned left toward lush green fields. As they rounded the next crest, they saw the old man’s cottage sitting on a bright flower-covered hill by a creek.

  “Hello, Mr. Thompson!” Amber called as they approached.

  An old man stood in the doorway and waved at them. He wore a sharp-looking bright-red shirt, a black-brimmed hat, and a white beard that went down past his neck. A black dog came and sat next to him without a sound. As they grew nearer, Amber noticed the wrinkles on his face were deeper than the last time she’d visited. Had it really been that long?

  He smiled an enormous, toothy grin. “Amber, my dear!” he exclaimed. “Why, you’ve grown so tall! You must be thirteen by now.”

  “Twelve,” Amber said proudly.

  “Indeed.”

  She dismounted, and they hugged each other. Then Mr. Thompson held her at arm’s length and took a closer look at her. Her long brown hair casually fluttered in the wind as she smiled. The combination of her confidence and hunting clothes made her appear older than she was.

  “What gives me the pleasure of seeing you on this beautiful spring day?” Mr. Thompson spoke with great energy, even though his body looked frail with age.

  “Trouble,” Amber said.

  Ryder chimed in, “Big trouble.”

  “And we need your advice,” Amber went on. “Bad things are happening, and nobody in our town knows what to do.”

  Mr. Thompson pursed his lips and nodded. “I see. Sounds important. Well then, let’s talk.”

  For the first time in two days Amber felt like she was in the presence of someone who was going to have something helpful to say about their recent troubles. Finally, they could learn something useful!

  6

  A Bit of History

  “WELL,” AMBER BEGAN, “a flying creature burned the Peabody’s wheat fields two days ago, and we think there’s more going on. Like there were five goblins that came and killed a cow, and the pixies have all left. They were attacked by imps. That sort of thing. It’s all happening at once, and nobody knows why.”

  “Do tell. Do tell.” Mr. Thompson gazed at them with a thoughtful expression and pursed lips, nodding and stroking his wispy white beard. He cocked his head and lifted his finger to speak. “Well then, come in. Let’s have some lunch.” He turned and gestured inside his home.

  “But what about the fires?” Amber had expected something wise to come from the old man’s mouth, and wondered about his lack of urgency.

  “A good meal shared with friends is more pressing than the troubles of tomorrow.” Mr. Thompson cackled happily and opened the door to show them inside.

  “I can only stay for lunch,” Ryder said. “I must be off to Lugo.”

  “Of course. Of course.” The old man’s knees popped and cracked as he walked up the steps and through the door with his dog close behind.

  Amber marveled at the amazing design of the little cottage. For such a seemingly small home from the outside, the kitchen and dining room were large, grand and bright, suitable to feed twenty people, like the great hall back in Seabrook. It was as if Mr. Thompson, despite living all alone, was prepared for hosting large feasts.

  Mr. Thompson saw Amber marveling at the exquisitely crafted stove and smiled. “A beautiful piece of work, isn’t it?”

  “Ah, yes.” Amber awkwardly put her hands in her pockets, realizing she’d been staring. “Um . . . why do you have such a . . . um . . .”

  “Big and fantastic kitchen?” Mr. Thompson grinned ear to ear.

  “Yes. That.”

  “You’d be surprised how well a good kitchen gets used when you’re prepared to use it.” The old man winked.

  “But you’re not near anyone.”

  “No matter. If you know what you want, it will come to you. Now then, let’s eat. I just happen to have enough stew ready for three.”

  As Amber and Ryder sat down at the long table and watched Mr. Thompson serve up three large bowls, they were surprised. There was indeed enough stew for exactly three hungry people. How on earth had he known to make that extra food?

  “My, my. How time has flown!” The old man talked between slurps. “I remember when you were just a wee little one, and your dad took you out on a fishing boat, and you nearly drowned.”

  “Really?” Amber leaned forward. “I didn’t know that. What happened?”

  “Oh, your parents never told you that story?” He chuckled. “They’re probably too embarrassed! See, your uncle caught a fish so big, all the people in the boat wanted to see it, and they all got on one side of the boat and tipped it right over! Ha!”

  He laughed, pleased with himself. “It’s a miracle you survived—but your dad’s friend Larry dove down and grabbed you, pulled you right out of the water and pushed the water out of your lungs. You were totally fine!” He grinned, flashing crooked teeth. “And your uncle didn’t lose the fish!”

  Amber and Ryder laughed along with Mr. Thompson. Ryder gazed at him admiringly. “You must have lots of great stories over the years.”

  “Oh yes. Of course. Of course.” Mr. Thompson sat back and gestured intricately with his hands as he talked. “See, when I was a youngster, like right around your age, I lived quite a ways from here, and the next village over had a giant who decided he wanted to live nearby. Oh the trouble he caused! He was huge—the size of three or four full grown men. And the people of the village didn’t know what to do. Because, see, he would come rolling into town and pick up a cow and take it home for lunch. Unfortunately, some men tried to stop it, and the giant killed them instantly.”

  “What could anyone do? The little town didn’t have any great warriors or such. The bravest men considered attacking it again—but to what end? What’s a farmer going to do to a giant? But then an old man, goodness, he was probably about as old as I am now. How time flies. That old man watched the giant carefully every time it came and noticed that it always went for the most-plump cows. And so the old man got an idea.”

  “He convinced the villagers to bring their biggest, most-delicious looking cows to this one spot, which happened to be in a valley, see. And then, when the giant came rolling into town, the old man sai
d, ‘Oh great giant, all our best cows are grazing down the valley!’ So what does that giant do but go strolling right into the valley, into a trap! When he got to the right spot, the villagers caused an avalanche right above him and buried that giant, once and for all!”

  “I’ll never forget how happy we all were. My village too, because we figured we were next after he ate all the cows at that village. Ah, that’s probably the best story I’ve got.” The old man leaned forward and grew quiet. “Unless you like stories about dragons.” He grinned slyly.

  Ryder laughed. “Oh, Mr. Thompson. Of course you have a story about dragons. You can’t leave us hanging like this. Tell us.”

  “Real dragons?” Amber pressed her palms into the table. “Do tell us. Please, Mr. Thompson.”

  “Oh, alright then.” Mr. Thompson dabbed some bread into his stew and continued. “It was about thirty years ago. Hmm. Maybe more like forty. Well, let’s say thirty-five. Anyway, there was a dragon—a big green dragon—who suddenly decided it needed to live right next to the main road between two cities.”

  “I actually saw it once but not up close, thankfully. I was in one of the cities, and it was flying in the distance. Anyway, the problem was that it was an important road. Lots of people wanted to travel on that road. But unfortunately the dragon seemed to like eating people. You know, some dragons tend to eat cows or sheep. But this one was pretty nasty. And so the trade and travel completely dried up between the towns.”

  “Well, one of the cities, Lugo, had an army, and so they decided they’d send out fifty of their bravest soldiers to take it on. That didn’t go so well. Because, see, dragons have fire and scales that are hard to penetrate and big teeth and claws. The men didn’t stand a chance.”

  “And so the King of Lugo made a decree that if any hero could kill the dragon, they would receive a full chest of gold. I can tell you, I heard of quite a few trying. And there was one great hero with a magic sword who I think got pretty close. But nope. None of them did it. And the situation seemed hopeless. That is, until some kids had an idea.”

  Mr. Thompson looked at Amber with a mischievous grin and continued. “Three kids decided it was time to take things into their own hands. It just so happened that the spot the dragon was calling home was not too far from a small river. And so those kids went upstream from the dragon and spent all day piling up rocks and branches. They were building a dam, just like a beaver would, except theirs wasn’t to live in. Their dam was for diverting the water!”

  “Sure enough. Those kids kept at it all the next day, and near the end of the second day, they’d built it up high enough that the water changed course! Poor fish. But the water went down the hill, right into the road. The whole area filled up and created a big lake. So, of course, the dragon flew away. And who knows where it went! It just left! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

  Mr. Thompson’s laugh was contagious, and Amber and Ryder found themselves laughing along with him.

  “Can you believe it? All those heroes and that high-falutin king’s reward couldn’t fix anything, but those kids did it by moving some rocks! It was no problem to clear the dam and put the river back to the way it was, and the dragon never came back. Ha! Ha! Ha!”

  Ryder and Amber laughed till they cried. Finally, Ryder stood. “I hate to leave, but I must get to the next town before the afternoon passes. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Be safe out there,” Mr. Thompson said, walking him to his horse.

  “I always do,” Ryder said, then turned and gave Amber a hug. “I’ll be passing through Wakefield in a couple of days. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for you in case you head that way. I have a knack for finding people.” He gave a wink.

  Amber felt warm inside knowing she was being looked after. Ryder mounted his horse and waved, then rode off at a gallop.

  Back inside, Mr. Thompson began cleaning dishes. “So how is old Danny? Is he still trying to build that dock idea of his?

  “Oh yes. He’s actually made some good progress on it. Not that it’s perfect, mind you, but the ships can unload fish a lot easier with the staggered levels.”

  “Wonderful! And Mr. Meyer? Is he still trying out new bun recipes every Sunday?”

  “Yes. He had a great one just last month. He rolled the bun and swirled it in cinnamon and sugar. He called it a cinnamon bun.”

  “Ah, I’d like to try one of those.” Mr. Thompson licked his lips. “He always did have the baker’s thumb!”

  The old man never seemed to stand still. As he talked, he’d move around the kitchen and clean things, knead bread, tidy up a little corner, or rearrange seemingly random items.

  Eventually, they took the conversation outside to a meticulous garden full of early spring greens, which he picked. Then they continued the conversation inside, next to a small bookcase. Amber wondered what sorts of books he might have.

  At one point, Mr. Thompson went to the fireplace and put a log on the fire. Amber looked outside, startled. It was nearly dark. The entire afternoon had passed by in the blink of an eye.

  “It’s dinner time!” He brushed his hands and walked into the kitchen.

  Amber watched him in awe. Somehow, the old man had managed to keep her occupied and prepare a meal right under her nose! He handed her two plates, knives, and forks, which she set on the table. They sat down with fresh baked bread, sausage, and a salad from the greens they’d picked earlier. The black dog, which had been closely following his every move the entire day, went to the other side of the room and lay down.

  He continued to ask about different people in Seabrook. He seemed more interested in how the people were managing regular life than the newest troubling events.

  The evening might have continued on that way, but Amber shook her head and abruptly changed the conversation. “Mr. Thompson, I don’t mean to be pushy, but I’d really like to know what you think about our situation in Seabrook. Do you have any idea what’s going on? Was it really a phoenix that burned our fields? Why are the pixies leaving? And what could be causing the goblins to come back—and the imps?”

  He sat silently for a moment. “I wonder if we need to rephrase the questions.” He tidied up a few last things in the kitchen, then sat down next to Amber, taking her hands in his. “What sorts of creatures can start fires in fields and be seen flying off? It could be a dragon, a phoenix, or perhaps a person riding a flying creature. But what of it? The real question is, why did they do it?”

  “How can we know that?”

  “Before we get to that, let’s see if we can come up with some ideas.”

  “Ok.” She hesitated, expecting him to say something else. But he sat in silence looking at her expectantly, so she continued, “Maybe it’s mad at us for some reason . . .”

  “Good, good.” He patted her hands. “Keep going.”

  “Ok. Well, it could be an evil creature, maybe a new one that we don’t know about.”

  Mr. Thompson nodded.

  She continued, gaining momentum, “Or maybe it is the good phoenix we know from before, but something has turned it against us. Maybe there’s some sort of magic going on that made the phoenix think we’re enemies.”

  Mr. Thompson nodded slowly, and her eyes widened. “That makes sense, doesn’t it? We haven’t done anything against it, and nobody has heard of any new creatures around. It’s turned against us, hasn’t it? And something to do with magic could explain the imps coming and attacking the pixies! I wonder why the goblins are around, though.”

  The old man pulled on his beard in thought. “Magic being involved is a strong possibility, there is no doubt. Also, there have been some odd things around here.” He gestured in big sweeping motions. “I’ve noticed the animals around here more skittish than usual, as if they’re upset about something that’s invaded their territory. We haven’t seen goblins in these parts for many decades now, but the way the animals are acting seems familiar to me, like from back in the troll wars before you were born.”

  “Trolls, a dragon, a ph
oenix.” Amber shook her head. “Any of these are beyond what my village knows how to handle. What can we do about it? How do we stop creatures like that without magic?”

  Mr. Thompson reached for his pipe and lit it. He went to the fireplace and put another log on, then sat in a comfortable chair nearby, beckoning Amber to join him in the one next to him. He blew a few perfectly crafted smoke rings that floated up to the ceiling as if enchanted. “I’m no magician myself,” he said between puffs. “And, as a general rule, I don’t like trying to fix something I know nothing about. Which means . . .” he paused dramatically, “you’re in need of a magician.”

  She sat puzzled for a moment. “Who?”

  “I do know of a good wizard in our neck of the woods. He goes by the name of Sage. He can often be found in Wakefield, less than a day’s ride east of here. You’re going to need help beyond what you’ll find in these parts. I have a feeling this is much bigger than what any of us around here knows how to deal with.”

  Amber gritted her teeth. It was beginning to look like she’d be traveling alone through unknown forests full of goblins or even trolls while searching for some wizard or other.

  Her heart pounded and her mind raced as she watched Mr. Thompson make her a bed by the fire.

  This is more than I am ready for, she thought. I’m in way over my head. But what other option do I have?

  She stared into the flames and thought of the big fire she’d helped put out just two days before. Time was pressing. Something had to be done, and this was the best idea so far.

  She gripped the enchanted rock from Flurry for a moment. No need to use it yet, but it was always there if Sage had no answers and she needed to find the way to more insight.

  She closed her eyes and thought of her home. Most of the people would be settling in for the night, but now some people would be staying up and keeping watch. Maybe even her sister. Times had changed—and not for the better. She needed to find Sage as quickly as possible. There was no time to lose.