Born of the Phoenix

by Forrester, David Murray

  “My king and queen, I introduce to you Lord Brackish of Pyrelle Island.”

  Brackish bowed. “It is an honour.”

  “Lord Brackish your deeds precede you, we’ve been hearing many tales of your valiant exploits throughout our lands, you have done the people of my kingdom a great service and so we wish to reward you,” the king clapped his hands and a group of servants appeared. They placed an elegant wooden pedestal before Brackish and atop it they sat a golden chest.

  The queen arose and looked down at Brackish with a kindly smile. “I hope you will accept this gift and see in it the future which we wish to build with you.”

  A kingly gift; Brackish was honoured to receive it. There was much work to be done in Engalia and with this the seeds would be planted for a prosperous future. As he gently opened the chest his heart was broken by a deep and piercing sorrow for Jonathon’s severed head was staring back at him from the chests golden confines.

  The king clapped his hands together a second time and a battalion of knights stormed into the throne room and surrounded Brackish. He stood alone in a sea of enemies.

  “What did you expect?” James Couden, the Grand Duke stepped between the rows of armoured knights and stood before Brackish with a smug look of satisfaction on his face. “You come to our kingdom from a far off land, take up residence in the ruins of an old city which you then have the audacity to proclaim as your own and you wander across our great kingdom slaughtering citizens who you claim to be participating in villainous activities.”

  Brackish stood silently while the Grand Duke continued with his accusations.

  “How dare you so brazenly come into our kingdom with such insolence as to presume that you have the right to kill and do as you please with total disregard to our laws.”

  Their friendship had spanned centuries and now it had ended so suddenly. It was a loss Brackish did not suffer lightly. Jonathon’s lips were a pale blue; poisoned, probably during a toast. Brackish could see no other way for Jonathon to be defeated by these mere mortals but through trickery and deception; his fist clenched in anger. He ignored the Grand Duke’s words and looked up to address the king.

  “You humans don’t change at all do you? I came here offering you my friendship and a powerful alliance with my empire yet instead of acting with civility you hand me the severed head of my captain.” This was not the first time he had been burned by the ignorance of kings. “What of my other knights?”

  “Dead.” the Grand Duke gloated over him, not allowing Brackish to address the king himself. “A fitting punishment for their crimes against our kingdom.”

  “They were honourable men who through strength and valour changed the fates of countless people, you have taken their lives without just cause.”

  “Changed the fates of people you say, rubbish! You attempted to buy the love of the peasants by handing out silver coins, we are well aware at your attempts to bribe the citizens of our kingdom.”

  The Nobles and lords in attendance began whispering and gossiping amongst themselves outraged by the Grand Dukes claims.

  “You are not a King nor a Prince, a Duke or even a Baron yet you come here trying to form an alliance with us and who are you? A lowly Lord from a small island thousands of miles away who has nothing to offer us yet you wish to fool us into thinking we are friends while you steal our land, pass judgement and kill our citizens and suckle upon the fruit of our land like a lecherous degenerate.”

  Again Brackish ignored the Grand Duke and addressed the king. “I will not forgive you for murdering my knights but the punishment for this heinous crime will not come from me-”

  “Punishment!” the Grand Duke thought the notion absurd. “You’re in no position to speak of such things.”

  “Jonathon was betrothed and when his fiancé learns that you killed him in cold blood believe me not even the gods will be able to save you from her wrath.”

  “Utter nonsense.” Couden scoffed at the thought that a heart broken woman had the power to instil fear into any man. “Your people, what do you call them, the surangi?” His tone was full of mockery, “their time in Sapphiron will soon be over as our armies are preparing to march on the ruins of Leesa and force the vagrant squatters back into the sea.”

  “I don’t know how a dullard such as yourself rose to be the Grand Duke of an empire but you would do well to keep your filthy ignorant mouth shut.” Brackish had a commanding stature, displaying fearlessness in spite of the hateful glaring and oppression from the king’s knights that surrounded him. “King Balester, I did not come here for war, it is an abhorrent thing that should be avoided at all costs. You have spat on my kind gestures with treachery while your Duke has continually insulted me and my people and I will suffer it no more.”

  The nobles stood quietly as Brackish continued, not as eager to hear what he had to say as they were to find out how their king would react to being spoken to with such bluntness.

  “You are a false king living in luxury while the people of your kingdom are forced to endure misery, you care not for them and therefore have no right to rule. In killing my captain you have ensured your own death-“

  “You dare threaten the king!” Couden raged with fury, how dare this lowly lord insult him and make threats against the king, he would see Brackish hang for his insolence.

  The Grand Duke’s face was one of complete shock as Brackish stepped forward unsheathing his blade the Satara. The sword tore through Couden’s elegant doublet destroying the flesh and muscle underneath, his blood gushed onto the polished marble floor as he stumbled and fell to his death. The crowd of nobles unused to such bloodshed gasped in horror. The king arose, ordering his knights to seize the murderous criminal.

  There was a great eruption of fire as Brackish unleashed his flaming wings; their great expanse almost touching the ceiling. Each feather in his wings was a flame that burned with such intensity that the knights withdrew fearing they would be scorched alive within their armour. Mortified Balester collapsed onto his throne using his arm to shield his face.

  “When Pyrelle was young I wished to forge lasting alliances with the neighbouring kingdoms so I sent ships to Ruscarne, Neorelle and Sapphiron with tokens of peace and friendship, what do you think happened to the ships I sent here?”

  The king trembled, unable to answer his question. The royal sage stood scratching the thick beard upon his chin; this was all very fascinating to him. He had spent years reading the ancient tomes and scrolls and held a greater understanding of Sapphiron’s history than most men alive, the evidence before him was undeniable.

  “The craftsmanship and quality of the merchandise aboard those ships was beyond compare. Merrifield the king of Leesa wanted them all for himself. The people aboard the ships were unarmed having come in peace and were defenceless when the kings soldiers assailed them. Merrifield seized the ships and imprisoned the survivors then sent out warships to capture the tiny island from whence they came.” Leaning upon his staff the sage hobbled forwards, “his greed was his undoing for the ships were sent by a race called the surangi, the repercussions for his actions was the total annihilation of Leesa.”

  Brackish was surprised that somebody was actually able to answer that question. He regarded the old man leaning against his staff with a new found respect. “You’re a knowledgeable one, the king would have been better off having you as his advisor instead of this other fool,” the sage nodded, “It’s true, I destroyed Leesa. I didn’t claim the city to invade your lands but to make amends and right the wrongs of the past, however it seems as though history has repeated itself.”

  “Is it right for me to say that you are the Brackish, son of Fe’anorr the phoenix god?” asked the sage.

  “I am.”

  “Then I believe I speak for the king when I say this horrible tragedy has been a terrible misunderstanding. Many strange events have taken place within our empire during the past few weeks and without sufficient information I fear that poor counselling on beha
lf of the Grand Duke has brought us to this unfortunate crossroads,” he looked down at the king who nodded in agreement, “you said earlier that you considered war to be an event that should be avoided at all costs, so then, we should use our reasoning to continue forth on a path that will lead us to peace.”

  Brackish sheathed his sword as his flaming wings dissipated. “I have two demands that you will honour, if they are not met then there will be no peace.”

  “Your highness,” the sage gestured to the king who sat upright on his throne.

  “What are your demands Lord Brackish?”

  “Firstly, you will gather the remains of my knights so I can return them to their homeland for a proper burial.”

  “That is an honourable request and I will see it done.”

  “Thank you,” He nodded in agreement but knew Balester was going to detest his second demand, “and finally, you will renounce your kingship and freely surrender Engalia to me.”

  “I will not!” Balester slammed his fist down upon the arm of his throne.

  “Then there will be no peace, Floreska will fall.” Again his wings filled the room with flames and intense heat. Terror seized the highborn lords and nobles as the threat of war was now upon them.

  “Balester you can’t forsake the city because of your damned pride!” The sage seized him by the arm, “you cannot defeat a god!”

  Rising from his throne the king cast the sage aside.

  “He’s right your grace,” Haycox confronted his king, “think of your wife and children, the people of the city!”

  The king contemplated their words as he watched Brackish walk towards the exit of the throne room, his massive wings burning with terrifying ferocity. Anger raged within him. Balester did not want to renounce his kingship but neither could he be responsible for the empire’s destruction.

  “Wait!”

  Brackish turned.

  “I will concede.”

  “Have the remains of my knights delivered to Leesa immediately, I will return in forty days to hear your official proclamation.” With a mighty leap Brackish smashed through the ceiling taking flight with his powerful wings and soared across the sky; a trail of flame in his wake. He had no wish to hear anything more the king had to say nor did he want to stay any longer in Floreska. With Jonathon’s death his thoughts now turned to Crystal, relaying the news was not a burden he wished to bear for already the grief was heavy within himself.

  Chapter 20

  The rumours were true, Valomere’s destruction was absolute. Delrawk placed his hand on a ruined stone column and felt feel no magical essence emanating from it which puzzled him; he wondered how Akella was able to destroy such a colossal structure without the use of magic. Truly Osrown had been right in saying that she was a dangerous adversary yet he had not fully grasped the magnitude of her power. It puzzled him though, that she would destroy such a place as this for it was like a shrine to the macabre. Barbarous atrocities took place within the colosseum; it was a place of cruelty, pain and death, so why would Akella, a witch, seek to end such sadistic events. It did not fit with what he knew of her.

  Akella’s trail had been easy to follow. She left corpses behind everywhere she went and travellers had supplied Delrawk with much information about her movements, such a strikingly beautiful woman, cloaked and carrying a greatsword was a figure that people remembered. All the clues and evidence led him to Lorewell and he stood now amongst the ruins to witness the terrible aftermath of her callous exploits.

  They valley of the fallen once again fitted its name ever so well, for it all lay in ruin. The streets of Lorewell were deserted; Delrawk had not seen a single person wandering about and began to wonder if the citizens had gone into hiding. The tower of Analetta would be his best place to gain more answers. As he backed away from the ruins a voice called out, he turned to see a group of women walking towards him.

  There were five women wearing ancient larrosan armour, intricate and master crafted. A ponderous thing, Delrawk knew it was from an age when the queens ruled the valley before it fell into decline.

  “What are you doing here?” Isabella stood apart from her friends, hand resting on the hilt of her longsword.

  “I’m looking for someone,” Delrawk smiled kindly.

  “Well if they were in the colosseum when it fell then they’re dead.”

  “I can’t say for sure if she was, perhaps you ladies can help me,” these were true larrosan women, strong and beautiful. The original descendants of the valley had abandoned it centuries ago after the treachery of the first king. These women being here was a truly unorthodox situation, Delrawk felt that a great change was coming to the valley. “The woman I’m looking for has long black hair and carries an impressive greatsword, her name is Akella Terrifos. Have you by chance seen or heard word of her?”

  “What business do you have with Akella?”

  Delrawk held back a smile, so they knew her, this was good. “I’m trying to find her because I have news about her sister.”

  Her eye lashes were thick and luscious; she regarded Delrawk with suspicion. “Order of Hassanfore isn’t it.”

  They were guarding her quite astutely and were obviously quite knowledgeable being able to pick Delrawks origin from the clothes beneath his travelling cloak. “Yes I am from the order of Hassanfore.”

  “An introduction is usually accompanied by a name.”

  “It is isn’t it, my apologies, I’m Delrawk and I do really need to see Akella.” He began to wonder though, if he was to take Akella captive just as Osrown had instructed then it would probably involve having to fight these larrosans which is something he’d rather avoid, not for fear of losing but he had no wish to harm them. Perhaps they didn’t know Akella’s true identity.

  “Ah, the roaming stabbin himself, my lady knows all about you, come on we’ll take you to see Akella.”

  This made Delrawk uneasy, how could Akella know about him? He began to feel as though he might be walking into a trap.

  “Yo Ruby! Run ahead and tell Zoe Delrawk’s here.”

  Isabella could tell by the look on Delrawk’s face that he was surprised, she smiled. “So you didn’t know Zoe was here, she’ll be happy to see you I think.”

  “No I had no idea she was here,” this only raised more questions, why would Zoe be here with Akella? None of it made any sense. “It’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other.” He hoped her bloodlust hadn’t manifested into demonization, if Zoe had turned she was well beyond Delrawks ability to defeat.

  With a bright smile Zoe met Delrawk with a warm embrace at the base of the tower of Analetta. Green shoots and leaves were sprouting along the vines of the tower; with the evil banished again the beautiful plants had the freedom to grow.

  “Did you see it! Isn’t it wonderful, Valomere is destroyed!” Zoe was absolutely bursting with excitement, “do you remember all the times we wished it gone?”

  “I do, but I don’t understand Zoe, what’s happening? I didn’t expect to find you here.”

  “Great things are happening, finally! Not only has Valomere been destroyed but King Pradosse is dead as well!”

  Perhaps it was the opposite of Delrawks suspicions. His thoughts churned as he tried to comprehend the situation. Had Zoe defeated Akella and in doing so brought ruin onto Valomere? “Did you destroy Valomere?”

  “No, you know I can’t do that, it was Akella, wait till you meet her Delrawk I think you’re really going to like her. She’s exactly the hero Sapphiron needs.”

  Delrawk pulled her close and in a hushed voice said, “But Zoe, she’s not what you think she is.”

  “What are you talking about?” Her face greyed as her smile faded.

  Akella appeared from the tower’s entrance, Sunderfall resting upon her shoulder. “Ruby says you have news about my sister?”

  “I do,” he stepped away from Zoe, “I’ve been following your trail for a long time now, you’ve killed a lot of people these past few weeks haven’t you.
”

  “I have, and with good reason,” She could sense the magical aura surrounding Delrawk, if he had come with news about Crystal then he best not digress for she could care less about his opinion of her or the choices she’s made. “You say you come with information about my sister and now you’re talking about all the men I’ve killed, you might want to get to the point real fast old man.”

  “Delrawk…” Zoe came forward but the wizard raised his hand to silence her.

  “Crystal, your sister, made the mistake of attacking Cleric Osrown and in doing so revealed herself as a witch,”

  “A witch! That’s absurd-“

  “And as punishment for this crime she was burned at the stake.”

  His words were like a spear that pierced Akella through the heart. Crystal wouldn’t attack a cleric, at least not without reason. She was no witch; the thought of her little sister burning in a pyre was a weight Akella couldn’t bear. Consumed with wrath she griped Sunderfall with white knuckles. “Where is my sister?”

  “Belderra, her ashes are resting at the bottom of the pyre.”

  “My sister can’t be killed with fire,” Growling Akella began slowly moving towards Delrawk barely in control of her rage, “she is a phoenix.”

  “Calm down Akella,” Zoe held her hand against Akella’s chest and turning to Delrawk said, “It’s true, they’re not witches, they’re surangi from Pyrelle Island who possess within them the blood of the phoenix. You can’t seriously be saying that Osrown killed her?”

  “She’s no phoenix.”

  “Delrawk,” Zoe paused and looked deeply into Delrawks eyes, “I’ve tasted her blood.”

  The wizard froze. Zoe never lied, but neither did Osrown, and the cleric was so remorseful in giving him this task to complete. Osrown was so genuine with his request; he didn’t know who to believe.