Born of the Phoenix

by Forrester, David Murray

  “Akella has killed a lot of people but take a moment to consider the type of people whose lives she’s taken. Murders, bandits, she’s been exterminating the scum of humanity,” Delrawk had never seen such passion in Zoe’s eyes, “you didn’t see the tears Akella shed when she discovered the cruelty that was taking place within Valomere. She vanquished Horrasu, killed the king and destroyed the colosseum, something I’ve dreamed of doing since it was built. She’s not a witch Delrawk, and even if she was it wouldn’t matter, there’s no evil in her!”

  Delrawk was at a loss and stood silently pondering the ramifications of the situation having acted rashly and without tact. He was man of wisdom yet his actions were one of absolution without knowing the full truth and he felt within himself the burn of regret. The answers to his questions had been there the whole time yet he had not the clarity to see them. It was true; Akella had rooted out and slain the evil in every village she passed through. It was the bloodshed that Delrawk could not see past, taking a life to him was a great tragedy and when forced to do so it weighed heavily on his conscious. He could not relate to Akella which was why he doubted the goodness within her.

  Akella was deeply touched by Zoe’s raw emotion. She was still deeply concerned for Crystal but her anger subsided.

  “I’m sorry for calling you a witch,” Delrawk knew this was a time for humility, accepting that Osrown had deceived him. “I had been following your trail of corpses with many doubts in my heart about your motives and when I brought these questions to Osrown, a man I have trusted for many years, he confided in me a great feeling of dread that was upon him having been attacked by your sister and fearing that you were gathering souls to bring darkness to the land.”

  “Osrown is a notorious witch burner,” Zoe felt the tension leave Akella’s body and no longer feared that she would strike Delrawk down in anger, “but since your sister can’t be killed by fire it must mean that’s she’s still alive.”

  “I don’t understand why he would even think she’s a witch, let alone how he would even be able to capture her to put her on a pyre,”

  “Is she as strong as you?” asked Zoe.

  Akella shook her head. “Not as strong, but strong enough.”

  “I’m sorry I don’t know more details about your sister or what happened to her but if you’ll allow it I’ll escort you to Belderra, we both have many questions for Osrown to answer.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. Osrown will answer to me for this, and me alone. You’ll only slow me down.”

  “I must insist.” If Osrown had truly lied to him then he wanted to confront the cleric himself, he did not take kindly to deception.

  “I think you should stay Delrawk,” Zoe had always had a strange feeling about Belderra, as though the essence of its divinity was somehow tarnished. As a holy sanctum its aura was not pure. Osrown had wronged Akella; this was a personal matter which was hers to settle. “Leave this to Akella, I could use your help here, stay and rebuild Lorewell with me, let’s restore it to its former glory.”

  With thoughtful consideration Delrawk made his choice. “I will stay and help you,” long had he dreamed of the days of old, when the land knew honour and pride. A wizard could perform wonderful feats here; he would not deny the people his aid just to satisfy a personal endeavour. Osrown would answer to Akella for his trespasses.

  “It will be an honour to have you with us Delrawk,” Isabella smiled; it was time for the resurrection of her people, “long has the house of Mandelgo held friendship with the order of Hassanfore.”

  Mandelgo; it was a name Delrawk had not heard in many an age, a noble lineage that were loyal followers of Queen Embrosia. It seemed the ghosts of the past were rising; truly this was the dawning of a new age.

  “The honour is mine.” He bowed.

  “You need to travel with haste but I know you won’t burden a horse with the weight of your sword so let me send a friend to help you,” Zoe stepped away from the others and kneeling on the ground began drawing an intricate rune in the dirt with her finger. Her body became engulfed in a blue orb which exploded sending an immense pillar of light up into the clouds.

  There was a great eruption within Valomere as plumes of dust arose from the ruins. The ground trembled under the might of a terrifying roar and through the cloud of ash emerged a giant stone bear, his enormous paws carrying him towards the group.

  “This is Griz’mar,” announced Zoe, the group was in awe of his awesomeness. “He is the embodiment of all the tortured animal souls who suffered horrific deaths within the colosseum. It was you who avenged them and finally granted their spirits peace. They come now to honour you, never will you find a more loyal or fiercely protective companion.”

  Tears swelled within Akella as she remembered the look in the bear’s eyes when she rescued him from the war hounds and the pain and torment she felt driving Sunderfall through his heart to end his life alleviating him from his torturous agony. As Griz’mar stood before Akella her emotions swelled, she could see such warmth and love in his eyes. The bond between them was already strong as family. He was resurrected and the joy she felt was overwhelming. She embraced him and climbed up onto his powerful back.

  “Thank you Zoe,” she thought the girl amazing.

  “Go, find your sister!”

  With incredible speed Griz’mar departed, Akella’s companions waving as she disappeared into the distance.

  Day and night they travelled, tireless, determined. Akella could not shake from her mind the image of Crystal burning upon a pyre, her flesh consumed in flame. She regretted her decision not to return with Crystal and Melody to Leesa, for had she not abandoned them then none of this would have happened. The words of Larnii came to her now, and the warning Akella so easily dismissed. She had never trusted spirits or paid heed to the words of clairvoyants no matter how freakishly accurate or important they were. Akella believed her fate was her own and followed her own path with the strength to face whatever came her way. She should have listened, she should have stayed. Destroy the foundations- finally Akella understood the meaning of those words. They were an impressive trio, Akella hoped that Larnii, Ninjune and their strange companion were in good health and happy in whatever adventure they had partaken.

  On the third day Akella came upon a familiar sight, the winding road and hillock leading into Granston village though as she approached she realised something was dreadfully wrong within the small farming community.

  Severed heads on spikes stood as grisly sentinels at the village entrance. The crow’s had been at them, tearing chunks from the decomposing flesh. Despite their decay and rot Akella recognised three of the faces, Jeremy, his wife Amanda and the village elder.

  The farm houses and cabins were scorched wrecks, skeletal corpses buried amongst the ruins and ash. The village lay in utter devastation. Corpses hung lynched from long tree branches, the lifeless bodies swaying gently in the breeze.

  Akella could not help but feel responsible for Granston’s destruction. It was obvious to her considering the heads that were on exhibition. She had intervened to protect the lives of a single family, now the entire village had met a gruesome end; her actions had been for naught.

  Crystal, now Granston, every decision Akella had made lately led to tragedy. She felt warmth emanating from within Griz’mar as she placed her hands upon him. No, not every decision.

  This was a transgression that would not go unanswered. Akella’s priorities lay with Crystal, but once that was sorted she would return; her retribution upon the people who destroyed Granston would be brutal. She was resolved to have justice done.

  Chapter 21

  Belderra was a hive of activity. Builders and craftsmen had erected scaffolding and were working tirelessly to repair the damage from Matearla’s assault. Men and strong lads from the neighbouring villages had come to lend their assistance feeling obligated after all the noble services and protection of their lands the clerics have provided them for countless generations
. Dutifully they laboured clearing debris and aiding the builders with simple manual labour tasks. Wagons and carts loaded with building supplies were scattered about the stronghold. Sculptors were busy in the cloister creating a stone memorial in honour of the soldiers who lost their lives in the battle. Osrown’s forces had suffered heavy losses. With the remaining soldiers engaged in numerous tasks about the stronghold no sentinels had been posted, Akella’s arrival was unheralded.

  Sitting atop Griz’mar Akella entered Belderra. As she passed through the threshold Sunderfall briefly resonated with magical energy. A barrier, but not just any barrier, it was demon magic. Sunderfall being demon forged had the ability to detect demonic powers, an ability she took full advantage of whilst hunting the forces of darkness across Ruscarne. Demonic creatures used the barriers to mask their auras, for the clerics here to be unable to sense the barrier meant they were at a very low level of their pilgrimages or that they were in fact demons themselves. The discovery didn’t bode well with Akella, her thoughts turning immediately to Crystal. The builders and peasants froze, awestruck when they beheld the great stone bear.

  A group of heavily armoured soldiers wielding halberds approached Akella. Round shields were on their backs with longswords sheathed to their belts, a pair of acolyte clerics accompanied them while Captain Lacewell marched at the forefront.

  “I am Captain Lacewell,” he announced with his chest puffed out, his face beaming with the pride of his new title, “what business do you have here?”

  Akella felt the strong urge to proclaim herself and demand to know the fate of her sister, but she could not. Someone here was a demon, to find the truth without killing everyone in a fit of rage she would have to restrain her desire for vengeance and use a tactical approach. Death would come to those who hurt Crystal and Melody, the question was not who, but how many. “Delrawk sent for me to meet with Osrown.”

  “So Delrawk sent you,” he turned to face his entourage, “at ease men, you may return to your duties, I’ll escort our guest to Lord Osrown.”

  With a sigh of relief the soldiers wandered back to their duties. The sheer size of Griz’mar terrified them, they were glad not to have to engage the great beast in combat. Morale had suffered greatly within Belderra despite Osrown’s latest victory. The men had lost too many friends.

  “You wait here for me,” said Akella as she patted Griz’mar’s chest. The stone bear nodded and sat down watching the builders go about their tasks.

  Lacewell noticed Akella inspecting the damage as he led her through the stronghold. “Doesn’t look very pretty at the moment does it.”

  “What happened?”

  “We were attacked by a witch, a damn powerful one too. I was the one who led the counter attack against her.”

  Her; did he mean Crystal? Sunderfall rested on her shoulder and she was ready to crush him with it.

  “I rallied our survivors and attacked her gekhorn, it managed to escape though. It was Osrown who defeated the witch, but that goes without saying, Osrown’s so much more powerful than any witch! I’d say he’s probably the greatest cleric in Sapphiron.”

  “You think so?” A gekhorn; so it wasn’t Crystal.

  “Easily! He’s made Belderra legendary.”

  “Have you been in Belderra long?”

  “I’ve served Osrown for over a decade now,” he looked across at the training yard with a smile remembering with fondness his years of tutelage.

  “Would you happen to know anything about a woman called Crystal Terrifos?”

  “Actually the name Crystal does ring a bell, why do you ask?”

  “Delrawk was telling me that she attacked Osrown recently.”

  Lacewell scratched his chin trying to recall the events. “No, no I think Delrawk’s got it wrong there. If I remember correctly a few weeks back two women came to the stronghold, one of them was severely wounded, while the healers were tending them they discovered that they were in fact witches so captain Dogridge had them imprisoned.”

  Severely wounded; so they came to Belderra for aid and were falsely accused of witchcraft, the ignorance of humans enraged her. “How did they find out they were witches?”

  “The healers said they had strange tattoo’s across their bodies, the crow of death or something like that,” Lacewell shook his head, “I don’t really know the meaning of them though, I don’t get into that dark magic stuff myself, they said they were servants of Manishka and that was good enough for me.”

  “You said they were imprisoned, are they still here then?”

  “No they were burned at the stake,” Lacewell sighed, “it’s nasty work but it has to be done.” As devout as he was to the cause of banishing evil from the land Lacewell didn’t have the constitution to watch the burnings, they were too violent and brutal for him. Torturing witches and making them suffer such extreme agony did not sit well with him. Lacewell believed a simple beheading would suffice, quick and merciful. He kept his thoughts to himself for he did not believe he had the right to question the clerics on the matter since the pyres had been the traditional way of disposing of witches for thousands of years.

  Akella did not speak again and followed silently behind Lacewell a deep rage festering within her. Dogridge; she’d remember that name. After Osrown she would seek out the man who vilified her sister and he would pay dearly for it.

  By candlelight Osrown sat in his study reading an age worn tome, a low fire burning in the hearth. He greeted his guests with a smile as he closed the binder containing the fragile old papers.

  “Captain,” he said rising from his chair, “and who is this visitor you have brought with you?”

  “This is Akella my lord, she said Delrawk summoned her to meet with you.”

  “He did indeed.” So she had arrived without the wizard, an interesting development. It appeared he had overestimated Delrawk’s abilities. Akella didn’t share Crystal’s appearance but Osrown could sense the power within her. “You may leave us.”

  “Yes my lord.” The captain bowed and took his leave.

  At once Akella noticed the irregularities with Osrown’s aura. In no way was he bathed in the divine light of a cleric, what surrounded him was a haze, a blanket to mask his true guise.

  “Where’s my sister?”

  “Let me think about that for a moment,” he leant against the wall and watched as the agitation grew on Akella’s face, “oh yes I remember where I left her, she’s impaled to the wall in the dungeon.”

  Akella’s movements were like a blur to Osrown. One moment she was standing before him, the next she was behind; poised with Sunderfall in the wake of her attack. Osrown’s body trembled and split apart at the torso as stone crumbled from a gaping hole Sunderfall had torn from the wall. Akella turned and waited, just as she had suspected Osrown’s true form arose from the bloodied carcass.

  The vile gluttonous reaver floated before her, black ooze dripping from festering lesions across his obese stomach.

  “I don’t know how you came into the possession of cursed blade but you’re a fool to try and wield it against me.” He held out his hand and called to Sunderfall beckoning the weapon to abandon its master and return to the hand of its ancestors from whence it was forged.

  There was no reaction from within the greatsword. Osrown growled, demon blades did not suffer the hands of mankind willingly, they damned mortals who tried to wield them cursing their souls and twisting them into servants of darkness. How Akella had dominated the essence of the greatsword he did not know, she was obviously far more powerful than Crystal.

  “Gluttonous reavers are an ancient breed, one of the first and most powerful to crawl from the void, but this blade will not answer to you.” Akella flaunted the greatsword, runes glowing upon the blade.

  Serrago was unleashed; the demonic blades clashed. Osrown’s speed matched Akella, but his strength did not. The sheer destructive force of Sunderfall was too much for Serrago to withstand. Again and again the blade faltered when struck by t
he greatsword leaving Osrown open for attack; his evasiveness was the only thing saving him from being torn apart by Akella’s ruthless barrage of attacks. He retreated from her, withdrawing several feet to recuperate.

  “I’m surprised my sister lost to a reaver with such little strength.”

  “You’re stronger than your sister but you will fall just as she did, the people here know me as Osrown but my true name is Kuungroth,” black swords materialised in his other three hands, each blade a bastardised version of Serrago, “You think you hold the upper hand but I have been holding back, witness my full strength!”

  A battery of four swords was an onslaught Akella could barely contend with. Kuungroth’s strength had doubled, no longer was Sunderfall able to knock the blades away with ease, often they penetrated her defence lacerating her skin with shallow wounds that caused heavy bleeding.

  The battle caused devastation within the stronghold. Walls were smashed and crumbled as the power of their strikes brought ruin to all that lay around them.

  It had been countless years since last Akella faced a foe of such primordial might. Gluttonous reavers, immortal in their own right possessed tremendous strength which grew exponentially through the eons of their existence and was enhanced by the souls they devoured. They were entities of terrible power. Akella was a Terrifos, the descendant of a lineage whose strength was unquestioned. Blessed with the blood of Fe’anorr her soul was much evolved. She endured training far beyond that of any other arcane knight; coupled with her meditation she had reached a state of ascension.

  Indomitable; she held Sunderfall aloft and suddenly all Kuungroth’s attacks became mute.

  “Kuungroth, so you’re not a first born.” The reaver was stunned by her dramatic change in strength, “you made a tragic mistake hurting my sister and crossing my path, this blade, let me tell you its name, Sunderfall.”

  The greatsword shattered Serrago sending shards of the four blades flying about the room. Sunderfall clashed with Kuungroth’s hideous body and tore a gaping wound across his torso. Never had the reaver suffered such a horrific injury fighting a lower being. He collapsed atop the ground as a sea of blood poured from his destroyed flesh.