The Phoenix King: The Thunderheart Chronicles Book 2

by Alexander Brockman

  “Is he still alive?” Timothy asked.

  “For now,” Aaliyah answered, without opening her eyes.

  “What’s it doing to him?” The wizard asked. “We might be able to poison the heartsoul link if it is in direct contact with the roc, then heal Aidan from here.”

  “No, no,” Eleanor said, “We would almost certainly kill him. And even if we could, Aaliyah’s an amogh; we can’t cast any spells from this end of the link.”

  Aidan’s suffering intensified, and Aaliyah fell to her knees. Some of the pain bled through the link into her. Her only consolation was that maybe sharing would make his agony more bearable.

  Then something else came through the line. Just a few words. Oh, Aaliyah. I’m so sorry.

  He’s dying, and his last thought is of me. And I can’t even love him. What kind of monster am I?

  Then the pain abruptly stopped, and the amogh’s eyes snapped open.

  “Aidan?” Aaliyah asked.

  Timothy’s eyes widened and he said a quick spell. Aaliyah recognized it as an enchantment that would allow him to see the heartsoul link. If it was broken, then it meant Aidan was … Aaliyah didn’t want to think about it.

  “He’s still alive, but the link is weak. I don’t know how much longer we have.” Timothy said.

  Without warning, the awful cry of the roc began again, and a massive shadow swooped out of the cave and began to circle the clearing.

  Aaliyah pulled her bow off her back and nocked an arrow she had gotten from Kyra’s village. It wasn’t a perfect weapon, but it should fly straight enough.

  The bird dove. Aaliyah loosed an arrow at it, but to her great surprise it bounced off the feathers. The roc screamed, and all of the friends fell to the ground, hands over their ears.

  It landed in the river, flattening trees with its descent. Again, Aaliyah could only stare in awe at the roc’s size. The girl had never heard of a creature in land or sea that could compare to the sheer mass of the beast. If possible, the great eagle seemed even more powerful than before.

  Greetings, humans. I have your friend here. He claims you wish to travel to the small one’s village?

  Aaliyah slowly rose to her feet, nocking another arrow. Somehow the bird was speaking inside her head, and she didn’t like it.

  Please do not shoot me with those sticks. They tickle.

  The amogh felt a hand on her shoulder and turned. Kyra stood there, shaking her head. The witch said something to the bird in her language, and it responded in turn.

  Aaliyah hesitantly lowered her bow. The witch was rolling up her sleeping bag, and gestured for the others to do the same.

  The amogh girl tuned toward the roc. “I want to see Aidan. Is he safe?”

  The mark-bearer is here, the bird said, lowering a wing. Aidan was draped across its back, apparently unconscious. Relief washed over Aaliyah.

  He requested that I take you north. I will only go as far as the village where the ElderBorn roosts. Now come, I am beginning to feel the pull of another long-sleep. Fifty more years of rest will do these old bones well.

  Despite her misgivings, Aaliyah grabbed her things. Her sleeping mat, barely used the night before, had been packed long ago.

  The roc held out a wing, which easily stretched over the trees and into the clearing.

  Aaliyah hesitantly slung her pack over her shoulder and took the first step onto the great feathers.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Timothy said, “There is no way I am trusting that thing to take us back.”

  “Yes you are,” Eleanor said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the wing. “Aidan needs us, and the hellhounds are right behind us. We can fly over them this way. Besides, it’s probably just like riding a griffin.”

  Ahem. I am The Roc, the only one of my kind, older than the land itself. Do not compare me to those domesticated air-horses.

  Aaliyah started to make her way up the wing. The feathers on the end were longer than her, all of them gorgeous displays of brown and white. It took her at least five minutes to reach the eagle’s shoulder.

  Aidan lay face-up, eyes closed on the great creature’s back. She ran to him as soon as the footing became more even. His face was pale, his—no, their—pulse so weak. A streak of white had appeared where his hair always stood up in the back. Aaliyah took his hand, and it was ice cold. For the first time since she had met him, he didn’t have massive amounts of power radiating out of him.

  “What did you do to him?” Aaliyah growled.

  He volunteered to donate power to me in return for a phoenix egg, which you will find in his robe pocket. He will be powerless for a few suns, but in time and with your help he shall recover. The mark-bearer is strong.

  Kyra and Timothy joined Aaliyah.

  “Get out of the way, he needs magic,” Timothy said.

  Aaliyah released her friend’s hand and stepped away. Of course he needs magic, not an amogh to push it out of him.

  Timothy scratched his head. “We need some sort of buffer to—what are you doing?”

  Kyra had started chanting something in a language that sounded similar to the magic thing Aidan and Timothy used, but more commanding. And she used a lot more words.

  Eventually her chanting turned to singing, and Timothy’s eyes widened. “That’s actually brilliant! Keep going,” he said.

  Timothy joined in the singing, and eventually even Eleanor let her voice join the chorus. Every thirty seconds or so Kyra would drop some of her powder on Aidan’s face.

  You sound like a pack of hellhounds. May we leave now? The roc asked.

  Instead of waiting for an answer, the great eagle took to the sky. Somehow it managed to barely budge its riders as the ground fell away beneath it, and soon they were cruising over the land they had walked the day before. The miles were nothing for the roc, and in minutes the village was in sight.

  I assume you do not wish for me to land on the rooftops? The bird said.

  Kyra stopped singing for a moment and said something to the roc before closing her eyes and returning to the song. Whatever they were doing, it seemed to be working. The color was returning to Aidan’s face and his eyelids were fluttering.

  The eagle flew past the village and landed on a treeless hill about a mile away. Instead of extending its wing again, the roc stood up a little taller and touched its tail feathers to the ground. Kyra pointed to a small cave that opened up in the hill, supported by wooden struts.

  “Aaliyah, grab our things. We need to get Aidan inside,” Timothy said.

  Aaliyah grabbed two packs and ran them down the roc’s back, then came back for the last two. Kyra had her own on her back. While she was doing this, Timothy and Eleanor had slung Aidan’s arms around their shoulders and were slowly making their way down to the cave, with Kyra following behind. All of them were still singing in their own strange magic languages.

  When they reached the bottom and stepped onto the ground the roc turned its head to them.

  The mark-bearer has done me a great service this day. Should he ever need me again, he need only call my name.

  The great eagle spread its majestic wings and flapped them downward once, catapulting itself into the air. It took all of Aaliyah’s effort not to fall as the wind from the eagle’s wings hit her. Somehow, the wizard and the witch kept Aidan upright and started to drag him towards the cave.

  Aaliyah followed with the packs, again making two trips. The cave was actually a mineshaft that extended down under the hill and into darkness, far beyond where Aaliyah could see. Rough-hewn picks and shovels were stacked against one side of the cave, along with several bags covered in coal dust. It suddenly dawned on Aaliyah just how poor Kyra’s village was. They couldn’t even afford the time or materials to build a wheelbarrow.

  The two wizards laid Aidan back against the other side of the mineshaft while Kyra kept sprinkling that dust everywhere. Somehow, it wasn’t gathering on Aidan’s face or clothes, almost as if his body was absorbing all of it. Aa
liyah felt completely helpless as her friend lay there, slowly recovering from the brink of death.

  “What can I do to help?” the amogh asked.

  “Go build get firewood or something; just don’t touch him,” Timothy said.

  Aaliyah nodded and stepped out of the cave. Finding wood wouldn’t be hard in the forest. She set her mind to her task, blocking out the image of Aidan’s face, so pale, so weak. She started gathering small twigs and eventually larger branches, building a pile outside the cave. As she worked, her and Aidan’s heartbeat returned to a normal rate. She didn’t stop building her pile until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  Eleanor smiled wearily, her blonde hair plastered to her face with sweat. “I think you have enough wood for a small village. Here, take this.”

  The wizard held out her waterskin. Aaliyah suddenly realized how thirsty she was. “Is Aidan going to be okay?”

  Eleanor sat down on one of bigger branches Aaliyah had gathered.

  “He’ll live, and probably recover after a few days. He can’t under any circumstances use magic until he’s better. His body desperately needs it, even more than most wizards. Mine and Timothy’s power is almost gone, and Kyra is out of that powder. You can sit with him, but I wouldn’t touch him yet.”

  Aaliyah nodded her head. “I’ll keep my distance. You look like you need to rest.”

  Eleanor laughed. “You didn’t sleep at all last night. I think you are the one who needs rest. No, I’m going to set up some defenses around the mouth of the cave with whatever magic I have left. Then I’m going to sleep as well.”

  “Okay,” Aaliyah said.

  “And I can’t do that until you go inside …”

  “Oh. Right.” The amogh stood and walked into the shaft, leaving the waterskin with the wizard.

  The mine had become saturated with magical energy that made way for Aaliyah like an adoring crowd, welcoming its king. Aidan was still unconscious in the corner, but Timothy and Kyra were putting some of their things into smaller bags.

  “I’m going to go back to the village with Kyra.” The blond boy said. “Maybe Derrin will give us some more supplies. I think Kyra has had enough adventure for him to be satisfied.”

  The witch nodded vigorously. She had her translation book in one hand. “I. No. Go. With. You.”

  “Good idea,” Aaliyah said. “I’m going to stay here. See if they have any arrows for me; I’m down to fifteen, and we’ll need to hunt our own food.”

  Timothy dumped his things on the floor. “Kyra says the village is two miles away. We should be back before dark.”

  The wizard and the witch stood and left the shaft, leaving Aaliyah and Aidan alone. The amogh sat against the wall opposite from Aidan. She didn’t bother to unwrap her sleeping mat. She had been trained to sleep anywhere, anytime, and she planned on waking when Aidan did. The change in their heartbeat was generally enough to rouse her from the deepest slumber.

  She closed her eyes. It was a little chilly, thanks to a draft that was blowing from deep within the shaft. There must have been another exit somewhere down there. It didn’t matter, she had slept through far worse. As unconsciousness flooded her mind, her last thoughts drifted to Aidan.

  He’ll get better, she told herself. He has to.

  ***

  Pain was something Aidan had experienced in full. Emotionally, his father had wrecked him as a child. Physically, Aidan had be stabbed, burned, and had his arm broken. He had also once been under the morka curse, a black magic torture spell that was practically banned from use in Sortiledge. None of that, though, compared to the feeling of having his soul ripped apart.

  Bartemus had forced Aidan to learn about souls after hearing about a risky spell the boy had used on his last journey that almost turned him into a ghost. He’d learned that a soul is the essence of a human body, concentrated into a ball of … well, something. Timothy probably knew what the actual word was. In at least two languages. The soul powers the personality, intellect, morals, and emotions of every person, animal, and magical beast. Containing this much energy, however, took power. This power was known in Sortiledge as arror. Everybody, even amoghs, have a wealth of arror feeding their soul. If the arror ever runs out, the soul will release itself from the body and travel, either up or down, to somewhere else.

  As Aidan’s arror was siphoned out of his body by the roc, his soul tried very, very hard to get out. Souls are oddly skittish considering they are basically invincible. The only reason he survived was because of the roc. It used its own magic to grab the fleeing soul by the heartsoul link attached to Aaliyah and held on tight.

  Eventually the bird finished all of the arror. Aidan breathed out in relief as the pain momentarily subsided. The spirit world faded away and was replaced by the ceiling of the roc’s den. Aidan was on his back, the giant eagle’s beak barely touched against his forehead.

  Then the roc found Aidan’s usual supply of magic. This was the stuff Aidan used for every elemental, curse, and enchantment he had ever conjured. It wasn’t nearly as potent as arror, but Aidan had a lot of it. The bird began course two, and the pain welcomed Aidan back with open arms.

  The wizard’s soul began to struggle frantically. He didn’t know how long it lasted, but he did know that he slipped in and out of consciousness several times.

  The pain was … indescribable. And it wasn’t just physical, though there was plenty of that. For the first time in his life, Aidan saw his soul unveiled by its arror. And what he saw terrified him. The hate and the rage were inscribed over the entire thing, and a small, black hole had opened up near the heartsoul link’s roots. Aidan knew what that hole was. It was the place where Edwin had gone. The teeny, tiny part of Aidan that didn’t for a second regret taking the fat warlock’s life. The part that took joy in the hunt, pleasure in the kill. The part Aidan could never admit, even to himself.

  Oh, Aaliyah. I’m so sorry.

  Aidan felt almost all of his magic run out, and the pain abruptly stopped. It didn’t matter. The wizard knew he didn’t have enough left to feed his soul until his arror replenished itself.

  You promised you wouldn’t kill me, he told the roc. He figured the thing could hear his thoughts, since it was in his head.

  And I have not, the great eagle said. I will forever be in your debt. When you have healed, should you ever have need of me, simply call my name. Azeo. Now, little mark-bearer, it is time for you to rest. When you awaken, the battle shall be upon you.

  What battle? Aidan asked.

  The war of the ancients. The battle of the brothers. Sleep, little one. Sleep.

  Aidan tried to stay awake, but with his soul still struggling to release itself from the roc’s grasp, he could not keep a grip on the waking world. The void that is unconsciousness claimed him before he could think another word.

  ***

  Ever since the Battle of the Ilse, Aidan’s dreams had rarely been pleasant. This dream was much better. There was no death, or pain, or guilt. Aidan was on a stairway so perfect it must have been crafted by dwarves. At the top of the stairway was a door of bright yellow light. All Aidan had to do was touch that door. He didn’t know why, but, considering the day he was having it seemed like a pretty simple command.

  Slowly, the wizard took the stairs one step at a time. He felt light, free, for the first time since … well, ever. He was only five steps from the door when suddenly, Kyra appeared in front of him.

  She said something and from the tone of regret in her voice, Aidan was pretty sure it translated to “sorry.” The she shoved him.

  He fell backwards down the steps and landed in a heap at the bottom. He felt no pain, but he did feel annoyance. Slowly, he picked himself up and walked up the stairs again. This time, when he was four steps out, Timothy showed up.

  “Sorry, mate,” his friend said, then walloped Aidan in the face. The wizard went tumbling again.

  Aidan stood, angry this time, and ran up the stairs. Again and again he tried, and each time Ele
anor, Timothy, or Kyra met him at the top and pushed him back down. It wasn’t so bad, except each time he fell, the world changed. First, small cracks appeared in the walls, then on the steps. Slowly, Aidan began to feel pain each time his head slammed against the floor. On the fifteenth time or so, as Eleanor kicked his knees with a “sorry,” the steps started to fall away. Aidan looked up, blood trickling from his bruised head, and saw the door of light become a maw of darkness.

  “Stop!” he yelled, tears flowing from his eyes. “You’re breaking it!”

  Kyra appeared in front of him again. This time she was at the bottom of the steps, not the top.

  “Look behind you,” she said.

  It took a moment for Aidan to register what she said. She definitely spoke in the language of Sortiledge, not her own. Her voice had a thick accent that Aidan had never heard before. Slowly, the wizard tore his eyes from the stairwell and turned. All this time, he had never taken a moment to see where the bottom of the stairwell led.

  There was another door. It wasn’t glowing or even pretty. It was made of beat-up wood held together by iron nails. As Aidan watched, the door slowly opened toward him on creaky hinges. The area behind it wasn’t spewing light or consuming it. It was just there, full of uncertainty and opportunity.

  Aidan turned back to Kyra, but she was gone. The staircase, though, was not. It was slowly starting to repair itself, and the maw of darkness started leaking light. The more Aidan watched, the less he could remember why he should turn around. He took the first step of the stairs. How much could it hurt? He wouldn’t go all the way through the door; he would just look inside.

  He took the second step.

  Why not? There wasn’t really anything important in that door behind him. Just more pain, more suffering.

  Another step.

  What door behind him? There was no door, this was the only way.

  His foot lifted for one more step when he heard a whisper behind him.

  “Come on boy, we need you,” Aaliyah said. Connected to his soul. Connected to the world. If he walked up that staircase, he would never see her again.