The Phoenix King: The Thunderheart Chronicles Book 2

by Alexander Brockman

  One of the soldiers had left his bag extremely close to the tree line, and all of them were distracted staring across the river. Even though Timothy’s stealth skills were nonexistent, he was able to grab the pack without anyone noticing.

  Inside was a bit of food, which he and Eleanor enjoyed, a packed tent, a sleeping mat, and a map. The map was the thing Timothy had been looking for. He remembered their trail pretty well, but now that he knew there were hags ahead he wanted to be sure they could make it through.

  The trail headed through a swamp, marked the entire way with X’s. It was the only one of the three that didn’t go upwards in elevation, so Timothy guessed all the water from the streams they had crossed eventually came here and dumped into this soggy mess.

  The trail only went through the swamp for about five miles, then gradually crossed through plains for another two before ending at a town, positioned at the base of the mountains.

  The town was called Carab. Timothy hoped to free the elders before getting there, but not until after they got through the swamp. The wizard had no desire to lead that many elders through a swamp full of wraiths.

  The soldiers untied their prisoners about two hours before midday. Timothy and Eleanor watched from the bushes as they crossed the river, the younger men with their weapons drawn. The two sorcerers waited about ten minutes before making the wet journey themselves. Timothy sighed. He was not looking forward to having wet boots all day.

  As soon as they touched the bank on the other side, the wizard felt a change in the air. There was a lot of magic on this side, and none of it seemed very friendly. He instinctively gripped Eleanor’s hand as they walked.

  They walked for several minutes, and then Timothy saw something move on the path and pulled Eleanor away from it.

  “Timothy stop! What are you doing?” the girl asked. She went over to the thing and picked it up. It was a tiny snake, and as far as Timothy could tell it wasn’t venomous.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been skittish the past few days, and you keep looking around like something is going to jump out and kill us.”

  “I’m sorry,” Timothy said. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

  Eleanor laughed. “That’s sweet, but I can take care of myself. Even from little terrors like this guy.”

  Timothy shook his head. Eleanor was right. There was no way Garret could be anywhere near this swamp.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “This place is scaring me. And I don’t care how big they are, snakes are terrible creatures.”

  Eleanor giggled and threw the poor reptile at Timothy’s face.

  “Get it off, get it off, get it off!” he yelled, terror filling his throat. Maybe it wasn’t very logical, but Timothy would rather face a hellhound than a snake, no matter what size. He started flinging his arms around, trying to find the vile serpent before it could bite him or worse, crawl into his robes.

  Eventually he realized that the snake had missed him completely and was probably somewhere in the bushes. Eleanor was doubled over laughing. As annoyed as he was, Timothy couldn’t help but smile at seeing her so happy.

  “I hate you right now,” he grumbled.

  Eleanor wiped away a tear. “That’s okay. I love you,” she said.

  Then she grabbed him by his robes and kissed him. It wasn’t by any means their first kiss, but it was the first time Eleanor had ever said those words to him.

  Timothy pulled away just enough to see her perfect blue eyes.

  “Eleanor, I—”

  He was cut off by a cackling sound. The noise seemed to be all around them at once, though Timothy couldn’t see anything in the trees around them.

  He turned so that he and Eleanor were back to back and drew his wand. They stood in a patch of light on the center of the path, but everywhere around them was cast in shadows from the trees.

  “Such young love. So sweet. Love is a curse though, children. For it is only through love that one can experience true pain,” the voice said.

  “Come out and face us,” Timothy yelled. He had read that wraiths avoided sunlight, so as long as they stayed in the sun they would be fine.

  The creature that stepped onto the path, though, was not a wraith. It was what appeared to be a wizened old woman. Her skin was far too pale, and hung off her body in disgusting clumps, with random sprouts of hair growing everywhere. Her clothing was a mix of several non-matching outfits; a soldier’s breastplate, a half-torn skirt, leather pants, a single dirty white glove, and a weird strip of cloth that was probably supposed to be a hat. The worst part though, was her stench. It was like a troll took a bath in dragon dung and then died.

  “Hello dearies,” she said. “What are two lovers such as yourself doing in such a vile place?”

  “That’s none of your concern,” Timothy said. “Let us through and there won’t be any trouble.”

  The hag cackled again. Timothy wondered if she liked the sound of it or if she was just crazy.

  “My name is Selena. And as long as you’re not here to hurt me, I will not hurt you. I cannot say the same for my sisters, though.”

  Timothy slowly lowered his wand. Everything he had read about hags described them as feral beasts. This woman was ugly, sure, but she definitely seemed human. And she had a name.

  “What do you mean, your sisters?” Eleanor asked. She had turned around to face the witch, leaving their backs undefended.

  The hag laughed again. Perhaps it’s some sort of involuntary reaction, Timothy thought.

  “The other members of my coven. They don’t take too kindly to visitors.”

  “You have a coven?” Timothy asked. “Like a witch’s coven?”

  The hag raised an eyebrow. Well, the flap of skin that may have once held an eyebrow.

  “Of course we’re witches. What did you think we were, monsters?”

  Timothy refrained from answering that question.

  “You sorcerers have always believed you’re the only good magic in this world. Well you’re wrong.” The witch spat a massive glob of saliva on the ground. “We’ve been around for three hundred years, almost as long as those Elderborns. Though we actually survived. Sure, our magic is … less stable, and has more side effects, but look at me! I’ve been practicing for a century and a half and I’m perfectly fine!”

  Timothy slowly nodded. “Fine” wasn’t the word he would use, but she was doing better than most hundred-and-fifty-year-olds.

  “I’m sorry ma’am,” Eleanor said. “But we’ve heard rumors about your coven. Aren’t there supposed to be wraiths?”

  “Oh, you mean like this?”

  Timothy raised his wand again as a dark shadow jumped from the woods. It was made of black energy, and in the center was a bright purple soulrock. The upper shape was loosely human, though it was hazy at best. The lower half simply trailed off into nothing. The thing snuggled up next to the hag like an old friend, careful to avoid any spots of sunlight.

  “This old boy was a farmer. He was so close to death, but he had unfinished business here. I gave him a chance to do what he needed to do before moving on.”

  Timothy blinked. “So he isn’t your prisoner?”

  The hag shook her head. “Oh, heavens no. If he wants to leave this world, all he must do is let go of that pretty little rock.”

  Timothy shook his head. Something was wrong here. There was no way his sorcerer’s book had been so wrong about everything.

  “We need to get through the woods,” he said. “Will you let us through?”

  “I can do more than that,” the witch said. “I can help you. It seems like you need it. My wraiths already killed ten of those horrible hell dogs that were following you.”

  Timothy felt a shiver go down his back. The hellhounds were getting smarter and quieter.

  “Come along dearies. It’s a pleasant walk through the swamp. Do you know any songs we can sing while we go? I haven’t learned any new ones in fifty some years.”

  Timothy glanced at Ele
anor. She nodded, and he cautiously stepped one foot, then the other out of his circle of light. He half expected his world to be smothered in black wraith energy. Instead, the old hag started singing in a wretched voice, and the wraith beside her started bouncing to the tune.

  “I hate this country,” Timothy breathed. “Nothing is the way it’s supposed to be.”

  “I’m not complaining,” Eleanor said, joining him outside the sunlight. “I would take this over the storybook hags any day.”

  The two wizards followed Selena through the woods for about an hour. She kept up that awful singing (or crying, Timothy wasn’t sure which it was) the entire way. The words were in the Aranumen language, so neither of the wizards had any idea what the song was about.

  Timothy had no doubt the soldiers could hear it. They probably thought they were being hunted by one of the hags.

  Eventually they came upon the first body. It was one of the elders, lying on the side of the road. He had been run through with a sword.

  Timothy ran to his side, but it was too late. The man was far beyond healing.

  “Go get me some more rocks,” the hag said to her wraith. “I have a feeling we will be catching souls today.”

  The wraith did as it was told, and came back with two more. Timothy was surprised to see that the creatures were not all the same. The other two were both smaller, and one had what appeared to be long wispy hair. One had a green soulrock at its center, the other had blue. All three of them had one hand around the neck of a pouch, which they gave to the hag.

  Timothy could feel its power, even from here. There had to be hundreds of soulrocks in there, all begging to be linked to a sorcerer.

  “Where did you get those?”

  The hag laughed. “Don’t you know where we are? Haven’t you heard of the mines?”

  “The coal mines?” Eleanor asked.

  The hag shook her head. “You think any sane man would walk through this swamp for a bit of coal? No, that’s what they call them, but those mines are for soulrocks.”

  Timothy felt a lump of fear forming in his throat. It was a closely guarded secret that the sorcerers of Sortiledge got their soulrocks from a magical island off the coast of Gurvinite. He only knew because Malachi had once accidentally let the secret slip. If Malcommer had his own soulrock mines, then he could have countless sorcerers working for him. And apparently countless wraiths as well.

  They kept going for another ten minutes before they found another of the citizens. She was an older woman. A crossbow bolt stuck out of her gut, and she was almost gone. Timothy fell next to her and placed his hands around the wound. He could already tell it was fatal. He was a good healer, but there was only so much he could do. The bolt had punctured several vital organs, and her body was so old that she had few natural reserves to draw upon.

  The young boy swore. “There’s nothing I can do.”

  “She still wants to live,” the hag said. “Allow me to save her.

  The old witch knelt down next to Timothy. It was all he could do to keep from gagging at the smell. She opened her bag, careful not to touch a soulrock, and started to whisper something in a magic tongue. Timothy recognized it as the same language Kyra used. One of the crystals began to float out from the bag and suspended itself in the air. With a few more words, dark energy started to flow out of the woman.

  Very soon she breathed her last, and the energy bound itself to the stone. A very small amount of the stuff traveled into the hag’s mouth, and she seemed to lose a few years. Her hair regained some color, and her skin tightened noticeably.

  The new wraith didn’t seem to mind, and straightened up. It reached out a hand to touch Timothy’s forehead. The wizard was too stunned to resist.

  Thank you for trying, the wraith said. But I think I prefer this to that sack of bones.

  “Are you okay?” Timothy asked.

  Yes. I should be frightened now but I feel … peace. But the others from my village need help. The soldiers have started to kill anyone who can’t keep up.

  “Sounds like we need to hurry, dearies,” the hag said. She turned to the new wraith. “Why don’t you go back to my place? One of my friends will guide you.”

  The new wraith nodded, and then floated away with its new companion.

  They started down the path again, this time at a jog. The road was marvelously placed to avoid all of the mud and murky water, so the only obstacles were the bodies they stumbled upon. They found three as they walked. Two of the souls had already departed. They stopped again at the third so that the hag could make another wraith. Timothy wasn’t sure if it was horrifying, incredible, or both that the witch commanded such power.

  As they walked, more and more wraiths began to gather around the little party. All of them were different, and all of them were terrifying.

  Finally they heard shouting and clanging, and broke into a run. The soldiers were gathered in a circle, surrounded by wraiths. Several soulrocks lay smashed on the ground, and the elders were strewn everywhere with various wounds. Timothy realized they had been leaving them behind as offerings for the hags. There was also a younger woman, probably about forty, propped against a tree with a bolt protruding from her chest. Timothy assumed it was one of Selena’s “sisters.”

  “You can have the elders!” one of the soldiers screamed. “Just let us go.”

  Selena seemed to grow to twice her size. Timothy drew his wand. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like whatever the hag was about to do.

  “We spend our whole lives saving those close to death, and you just keep coming here to kill more. You and your master, Garret. And now you have taken one of my sisters. For that you will perish, and I will not save your souls from the depths of hell. Now it is time you meet the Coven of the Norther Swamps, masters of necromancy, the hags of Aranumis!”

  Selena screamed, a scream so full of hate and magic that Timothy felt the need to pull Eleanor closer.

  Hundreds of wraiths came from the woods, falling upon the soldiers like dogs fall upon a hunk of meat. At least four hags stepped out of the forest, all of them cackling maniacally.

  The soldiers never stood a chance. One by one, the wraiths pushed themselves into the soldiers. The soulrocks went through noses, mouths and ears. The men went mad, swinging their weapons, but to no avail. They fell out of formation, still swinging and shooting, until they started slamming into each other. They attacked each other and fell to their comrades until only the mace-man was standing.

  Selena walked up to the mace-man and put her hand on his face. He was frozen, perhaps because of the dozen or so wraiths inside of him. Blood leaked from his orifices where soulrocks had been unceremoniously forced into his skull. One hand was missing, probably lopped off by one of the crazed swordsmen.

  “This is for the lives you have taken, oh soldier of Garret. Never again will another fear your weapon.”

  The hag snapped her fingers, and the soldier’s head twisted. It wasn’t just a slight turn, but four full rotations. Timothy felt like throwing up.

  Slowly, the wraiths came out of the soldier’s bodies, much more carefully than they had gone in. Timothy turned away before he could see how they would get the soulrocks out.

  He already knew all the elderly people were fatally wounded. The soldiers did their jobs too well. But the injured witch was still young, perhaps young enough to save. Timothy ran to her and started chanting.

  At this point in his training, Timothy wasn’t even sure what he was saying, though he made sure Aidan thought he did. The young healer only started an incantation, until the magic took over and used him as a vessel for its power.

  The young wizard gently pulled the bolt from the witch’s chest. He could feel Eleanor’s hand on his shoulder, donating power to him.

  First the boy dealt with the potentially fatal injury. A lung had been pierced, and fluid was leaking into it. He commanded the tissue to come together and accelerated the healing process, then forced the fluid up the hag’s thr
oat. She started coughing it up as he continued to mend bone, skin, and flesh.

  It didn’t take as much energy as he thought it would. When he was done, Selena was standing by his side, ten new wraiths with her.

  “She needs rest, but she should be fine,” Timothy said.

  Selena smiled, and Timothy jumped back. She looked young, very young. Younger even than the witch Timothy had just healed. The smell was still definitely present.

  “How did you do that?” he asked

  “Oh, those soldiers had plenty of leftovers they won’t need in hell. I had a bit of a feast.”

  I can’t wait to get out of this place, Timothy thought.

  “You have saved my sister’s life. For that I owe you a great deal. I am bound to this swamp, but if there is ever anything you need I will gladly help you.”

  Timothy stood and helped Eleanor to do the same.

  “Right now we just need to get out of this swamp. Did any of the elders survive?”

  “Why of course, dearie. Unfortunately, their bodies did not. I am afraid that I cannot allow them to go with you. They would perish the moment daylight touched them. This swamp is the only place they are safe.”

  Timothy sighed. Well, I pretty much failed this mission. Some sorcerer I am. At least Eleanor is still far away from Garret.

  “All right. How far away are we from the entrance to the swamp?” Eleanor asked.

  “Oh, it’s just a little ways up the road. Come with me,” Selena answered.

  The witch wasn’t lying. About five more minutes of running and the soldiers would have escaped their grisly fate. Timothy felt relieved to step onto a plain where the trees ended and sunlight shone down on his face.

  “The town is that way. You should get there before nightfall if you walk briskly. Don’t talk to anyone though, they’ll pick you out by your language immediately. Here, take these to get yourself a room.”