Born of the Phoenix

by Forrester, David Murray

  "Shut up woman!"

  "Lord Derrion please," she sobbed, turning to the village elder, "you can't allow this!"

  The old man cowered before Liam, he was afraid to speak against him. A shrug his only reply to her plea for help. The others villagers stood quietly, trying not to meet her gaze less she judge them all as cowards.

  "Draw your sword Jeremy, or I'll kill you unarmed."

  Jeremy unsheathed the weapon, the longsword had belonged to his grandfather. It felt foreign to him, and awkward. Nevertheless, he faced down the man who wanted to strip him of his future.

  A stranger moved through the crowd, a silver circlet on her brow with a shining emerald in its centre.

  “If I win I have your word your friends will leave my family alone.” Jeremy had little confidence in victory but he had to try, he couldn’t let Liam take his land. He couldn’t understand why Derrion was letting this happen. How was it that the village elder and all the friends he had spent his life with were not helping him in his time of need. They were all standing around, pacified by intimidation from Liam’s band of thugs. It was true that Liam had no rightful claim to the land, he just wanted it and no one was standing up for Jeremy, he felt sick with betrayal.

  “You think you have a chance of beating me? Don’t make me laugh!” he found the notion amusing. “But yes, if by some freak chance you do win nothing’s going to happen to your family.” It was a lie of course, his friends planned to step into the fight the second it looked like Liam might lose and after killing Jeremy he was going to take his wife as his servant and the children as slaves to tend the fields.

  His grip on the hilt was all wrong. It was a fine blade and Akella could see the farmer had no skill in wielding it. Pushing her way through the crowd she stood between the two combatants, eyeing each one in turn.

  "A land dispute is it?"

  "You’d do well not to interfere wench," Liam took a step towards her.

  "Let me see if I understand this right, " Akella pointed at Jeremy, "you say this land has been in your family for three generations," Jeremy nodded, "and what is your claim to the land?" she said turning to Liam.

  He knew full well he had no rightful argument for claiming the land and so feigned ignorance to her question. "Claim, that's right I claim it."

  "For what reason?"

  "Land should be owned by the strong, not the weak, by all rights the land belongs to me, in combat I shall take it, as is the law of the village."

  "Is that the law?" she turned her gaze on the elder.

  "It is." he scratched his head, liver spots on his aging hands, "if there is a dispute over a land title it may be settled by combat."

  "A dispute over a legitimate claim!" Amanda came forward, "but Liam has no legitimate claim! Just wanting our land doesn't give him the right to claim it!"

  Akella ignored her, turning instead to the amassed villagers.

  "I agree with Liam," she began, "the land should be owned by those who are strong, does anyone here have a reason as to why this dispute should not be settled by combat?"

  The crowd was silent. If they lacked the courage to stand against Liam they certainly weren't going to deny Akella who was a much more intimidating figure.

  "How could you," Amanda's knees were weak with disbelief.

  "Then it's settled!"

  "Thank you stranger," it was finally time for Liam to get what he wanted.

  "Thanks for what?" said Akella, "you won't be fighting him, you'll be fighting me."

  The crowd was stunned. Amanda's jaw dropped. She began shaking with confusion and relief. For once someone was defending them, standing up for what was right. She couldn't believe it. The anxiety she suffered over the fear of losing her husband had crippled her with an impending doom of loneliness. Now Jeremy didn’t have to fight, a great weight was lifted from her. Emotions were running high, her eyes glassy with tears of joy.

  "That’s bullshit! You have nothing to do with this!" growled Liam.

  "I'm his champion," Akella stood over him, "you can choose a champion too, if you're afraid to fight a woman that is."

  The insult sparked a quick reaction from Liam. His pride demanded that he not look weak in front of his friends, there was his reputation amongst the villagers to consider also. He Accepted Akella's challenge, ordering the people to step back and make space for the fight. Drawing his sword from its scabbard he pointed the blade at Akella with a false sense of confidence.

  There was nothing rushed about Akella's movements as she removed her cloak, twirling it in a circle as she folded it neatly. As she drew Sunderfall the crowd gasped at the enormous size of the black greatsword; it was not a sight the farmers were use to seeing.

  The mammoth blade put the fear of god into the field burner. Sunderfall’s edge long and keen. Akella's armour was like nothing he had ever seen. It wasn't the flimsy armour worn by some amateur rouge or sellsword, it was warriors armour; light and exquisite. He became lost in Akella’s purple eyes, seeing within them a strength far greater than he possessed. Suddenly his reputation no longer mattered, only his life and that he is able to go on living it.

  "I submit!" he said, and threw his sword at Akella's feet, raising his hands as a sign of surrender. "They can have the farm, I don't want it anymore."

  The crowd was shocked by his sudden display of cowardice, this man who had bullied and tormented them for so many years. A man they all believed to be strong and unyielding finally showed his true colours. They began to question why they held such an intense fear of him. Some of the farmers even began to pity him. Amanda wrapped her arms around her husband and they kissed.

  "So you yield before the fight has begun, why is that?" Akella stepped towards him, the emerald of her circlet catching the sunlight in a brilliant way, "only moments ago you were so bold, so ready to spill blood to claim the farm as your own."

  He did not have the words to answer that question and before his mind could string a sentence together Akella raised her greatsword. A gasp of horror was the last thing to escape his lips as the massive blade tore his body asunder; his ruined corpse collapsing to the ground in a bloody heap.

  The death was met with jeers of disapproval and disgust. The villages appalled by the betrayal of duel ethics. Liam had surrendered; his life should have been spared. Mercy should have been given. Voices whispered to one another, a murmur of discord throughout the crowd. There were a few men present that had come from Menark, had seen Akella mercilessly slay the scarlet blades. Immediately they began regaling embellished versions of the story in hushed tones to anyone who would listen. Rumours spreading like wild fire.

  "What have you done!" the village elder hobbled towards her, his face twisted in anger.

  When she turned her focus on him with her keen gaze the old man stopped abruptly. Blood dripped from Sunderfall’s blade. "Are you kidding me?"

  "He surrendered!" said the elder shaking a wrinkled finger at her.

  "You're so quick to defend him," her tone was venomous, "yet when Jeremy and his wife had their lives threatened, were going to be openly robbed of their land, it was so easy for you to keep quiet wasn't it, for all of you! Just to stand back and let it happen."

  "It wasn't our place-" the elder began to talk but Akella cut him short.

  "Not your place! This is your village! You’re the elder, the authority here! Don't you even know the meaning of the word community?" she glanced around, surrounded by faces deep in thought and marked with shame. "In a village this small you should be banding together. It was cowardice that held sway over your tongues! Just as it was cowardice that made Liam throw down his sword. He was real brave intimidating all of you wasn't he, huh, a real hard ass to a bunch of peasants and farmers, but see how quickly he submitted to me, and now you have the guile to sass me for protecting your people and doing what was right!"

  "You didn't have to kill him."

  "He was a man of violence, brought low and shamed in front of all of you, feelings like
that fester, what do you think he would have done tomorrow when I left your village, or a week from now, even a year?" Akella couldn't believe she had to spell it out for these people, "he would have sought revenge for this slight."

  They knew it to be true. Whenever adventurers, a hero or a group of bandits had ridden through Granston Liam was nowhere to be seen, like a tohern cowering from a dragon as it flies overhead. He was the biggest fish in this pond, and threw his weight around when he knew there was no one to challenge him.

  "You have our thanks," Jeremy stepped forwards, offering his outstretched hand to Akella. She took it. Her grip was as steel as their hands clasped together, Jeremy nodded in reverence.

  "I thought you were going to side with Liam," Amanda wrapped her arms around her husband's waist, "why did you help us?"

  "Because it was the right thing to do." Akella said, and turned to face the other villagers. "This is what you should all be doing for each other, even if you don't have the strength or will to fight, just voice your opinion, have to courage to stand up and say no, you'll be surprised what changes a united front can bring."

  "That is dangerous advice," said the elder as he scratched the grey stubble upon his chin.

  "I can see why you've lived so long old man, cowardice is subjugation, longevity should not give you authority to rule, you should step down, appoint a younger man who actually has some courage to lead this village to a brighter future." Raising Sunderfall she pointed the blade at the men who had stood with Liam. "You are all banished from this village, if I ever see you here again I will have your heads, do you understand?"

  Downcast, the men offered no resistance to her demands. They skulked away, hearts burning with vexation.

  "And who would you appoint as head of the village then hmm?" the elders tone was as if Akella should have an answer to his question. It was an outrage to think that such a young woman had the guile to question his leadership when he had overseen the village for so many decades.

  "I do not know this village or its people, so I have no idea," and with a sly smile continued, "except that it shouldn't be you."

  "Hmpf," he scoffed.

  "You’ll have to figure that out for yourselves." As Akella walked away a great deliberation began amongst the villagers.

  It was a small tavern. Akella sat alone eating a humble meal which she washed down with beer. She could overhear the villages talking. Excitement was in the air. The elder had held sway over the village for more than twenty years. During that time nothing had really changed, only continued under his conservative watch. Over the years the people had began to feel as though the village was beginning to stagnate. New leadership meant change, and with it the hope of prosperity and growth.

  Akella's words had resonated within the small community. The moral consciousness of the people was awakening as the realisation was dawning on them that united, they didn't need to live in seclusion and fear.

  With her meal finished Akella sipped at her beer deep in thought as she pondered everything she had seen during her short time in Sapphiron. Not easily could she count all the bandits she had slain lately. Nor how many stories she had heard of murder and horrific tragedies befalling decent folk who wanted nothing more than to raise their families and live in peace. Sunderfall rested next to her, and with it, she would continue righting the wrongs of this land.

  As the afternoon set in Akella began walking out of town, Sunderfall resting upon her shoulder. A voice called out to her, she turned. A plump man richly dressed in fine fur garments waddled over to her at a brisk pace. She watched him curiously as her circled her looking Akella up and down with a peculiar grin on his rosy cheeks. Jewel encrusted gold rings adorned each of his fat fingers. He rubbed his hands together as her began to speak. "Oh yes, you're perfect, exactly what I'm looking for. How much do you charge? I have plenty of gold."

  His eyes bulged in terror as she seized him by the throat. "You take me for a whore?" she growled.

  Stuttering he clutched at her arm, struggling for a single word to escape his lips. "Sellsword."

  With an apologetic smile she released him. "Sorry about that."

  "Not at all, not at all," he said straightening himself up, "poor choice of words on my part, poor choice indeed!" He raised his finger, "But the question remains, are you by chance for hire?"

  "I'm afraid I'm not a sellsword," she said, "but is there something I can help you with?"

  "I saw how you handled that situation back there, you have strong convictions, a very rare trait these days and I’m always looking for strong bodyguards I can trust."

  "If you didn't wear so much gold perhaps you wouldn't need them."

  "Ah but an entrepreneur of my stature must have his prestige," he winked, cheeks rosy with a coquettish smile, "Dennon Royald, purveyor of the finest quality goods at your service."

  "A travelling merchant is it?"

  "Much more than that my dear lady, much more,"

  "Well I can't help you out with your sellsword needs but I am heading east, if you're going the same direction I can travel with you for awhile if you like?"

  "East you say, ah, the gods favour me today indeed! I am travelling that direction and would be more than happy to have your company." The roads in this part of Sapphiron were dangerous for merchants. Dennon already had four guards to keep him safe but felt that adding Akella to the mix would greatly turn the odds in his favour. "How far east are you travelling if you don't mind me asking?"

  "I'm going as far as Lorewell before I head north."

  "Lorewell," his face twisted as he said the name, "what business takes you to the valley of the fallen?"

  "I want to go to the colosseum and then test out the quality of the whiskey there, if you know what I mean." she smiled.

  "You actually like that kind of thing?" his demeanour was beginning to change.

  "Well, yeah, I do enjoy watching the fights, you don't like the colosseum then I take it?"

  Disgusted, he spat at her feet and walked away muttering curses to himself. Akella was astonished by his harsh reaction. Colosseum's can get quite bloody and brutal and weren’t for everyone but she had never seen someone object to one in such a way before. It mattered not. Throwing the giant blade over her shoulder she continued out of the village, in her eyes and mind she felt the joyful haze of partial inebriation.

  Chapter 11

  It was an unpleasant awakening. Crystal could feel the dried blood caked upon her face, her armour replaced with rags. She found herself chained to an iron totem in the centre of a great pyre; a mass of wood piled beneath her. Crystal struggled against the chains restraining her, but to no avail. Through gaps in the heaped wood she could see the skulls and charred bones of the pyres previous victims.

  The pyre was not singular. There were seven others surrounding her, to each a woman was chained. They were dressed in rags as she was, a few of them had bruised and bloodied faces while others were gagged. Growling she wrestled again against the confinement of her chains. The iron was strong, refusing to break or loosen. Sighing in defeat, she surveyed her surroundings. She was in a grand courtyard, bordered with lavish gardens and high stone walls. Chained to the pyre directly across from her was Melody. Chin resting on her chest, she was unconscious. Crystal called out to her.

  "She can't hear you, you know,"

  A man stood before her with chiselled features and a strong stance. Adorned in the blue and white garb of a holy cleric, his eyes discerned her with the softness of empathy. Despite the initial transparency of his appearance Crystal sensed a strong feeling of juxtaposition about him, as though his aura did not truly fit him. She could see genuine empathy in his eyes, yet they lacked the divine light of a cleric.

  "It was a foolish move coming here, though the situation you were in didn't leave you many choices did it?"

  "In hindsight perhaps, but to be honest I didn't think there was anything wrong with coming to this stronghold for help," she needed answers and hoped this cleric
would at least oblige her in that. "Please, can you tell me what's happening? Why have we been chained to these pyres?"

  "I thought that would be obvious." He expected her to know but the confused look on her face made him second guess his initial opinion. She was either truthfully oblivious or playing him with some ruse. "We burn witches here."

  Memories returned to her; of the captain’s deceit and the bludgeoning she received from his men. Scenes of violence entered her mind. An outer body experience where she watched herself succumb to their savagery. Branded as a witch she received no mercy.

  "Your people think we're witches?"

  "Know you are." His statement was blunt.

  Such an ignorant assumption made Crystal writhe inside. She abhorred ignorance. Conflicting emotions of fury and trepidation brewed inside her as the realisation dawned upon Crystal that her and Melody's fates were now in the hands of men who acted in haste without truths.

  "We’re not witches," she said firmly, biting back her thirst to use aggression.

  "Not witches? How then do you explain being marked with the black crow of death?" He held his hands out and shrugged as though the evidence against them was undeniable.

  "You’re mistaken, neither of us bares the mark of the black crow." She straightened herself up, raised her chin and narrowed her keen eyes on him. The cleric was taken aback by her new visage, even cloaked in rags her regal distinction had not dissipated. "I am Crystal Terrifos, arcane knight and general of the provincial army of the surangi from Pyrelle Island. The tattoo I have is the mark of the phoenix, for Fe'anorr phoenix of the sun is our god, and we his champions."

  For a moment the cleric did not speak. Folding his arms behind his back he held her gaze as he analysed the truth of her words.

  "So you are a surangi, and that tattoo is symbolic to your peoples god then?"

  "It is. Only arcane knights are gifted the mark, and each is as individual as the person who bears it."