The Phoenix King: The Thunderheart Chronicles Book 2

by Alexander Brockman

  “Where do I go from here?” he asked.

  “I don’t know that either Aidan,” the amogh said.

  They sat in silence for a long time. Eventually, Aidan remembered that Timothy was waiting on confirmation that Garret was dead.

  “I need to talk to Eleanor and Timothy,” he said. “Let him know Eleanor is safe.”

  “What do you mean?” Aaliyah asked.

  “Kyra had a prophecy that Garret was going to kill Eleanor. Timothy hasn’t told her yet. That’s why he was so keen on splitting up. It doesn’t matter now. The Dark Angel is dead.”

  Aidan stood and walked back to the campsite. Kyra was nowhere to be seen, but her mat and pack were still there. The young wizard walked to his pack and pulled out his communication crystal. He noticed his hands were shaking as he pushed magic into the rock. He wasn’t sure which emotion it was from. His head was still reeling.

  “Aidan, mate. Is everything okay?” Timothy asked. “Your magic feels weird.”

  “I’m okay,” Aidan said. “Garret’s gone. It’s safe to come to Wyvern’s Roost. Just fly low. We’re in the woods about a mile south.”

  There was the usual delay before Aidan heard Timothy’s voice again.

  “All right. Thanks mate. We’ll both be there tomorrow. Stay safe Aidan. Oh, and you might be interested to know that we asked around. Those demon worshippers are on the west side of the mountain, near the top. There’s a path that starts three miles west of Wyvern’s Roost.”

  The crystal went dark.

  Aidan stashed the rock and started walking up the path. He didn’t know where he was going, but he needed to move.

  Eventually the castle came into view, and behind it the mountain. The upper half of it was covered in snow, and a storm was brewing near the top. His father might be somewhere up there, worshipping a demon. Or maybe he was somewhere else, hatching phoenix eggs.

  Kyra and Aaliyah came up behind him. They were still relatively concealed by trees, so there was no need to be worried about the fortress guards seeing them.

  Kyra led the two horses. One of them was bleeding from a sword slash across its right haunch. The other was lazily munching grass.

  “I need to get up there,” the wizard said, never taking his eyes off the mountain. “I need to know if my father is alive.”

  “We will,” Aaliyah said. “Just wait for tomorrow.”

  Aidan shook his head. “No. There are some things that need to be done alone.”

  He turned to Aaliyah. She looked like she was going to argue with him, but stopped.

  “Maybe you’re right,” the amogh said. “How will you get there?”

  Aidan pointed to the unwounded horse. “I was thinking I’d ride him.”

  He looked at Kyra. He didn’t have the enchanted notebook with him, but he hoped that his eyes would communicate all he needed to say. The witch half smiled at him, though he could still see fear in her freckled face.

  The three walked back to the campsite slowly. Aidan packed his bag and tied his mat to the top of it, as he had a thousand times before. This time though, it felt final.

  He said goodbye to Kyra first. He didn’t really know how. Considering he had only met her a few days ago and they didn’t even speak the same language, she had come to mean a lot to him, and after what he had done to those soldiers … he wasn’t sure what to say.

  Kyra did the hard work for him. She gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. Her eyes met his as he pulled away, and he knew that small piece of affection meant something. Perhaps not forgiveness. Trust had been broken. But it did mean that maybe someday that trust could be restored.

  Then came Aaliyah. She was even harder to say goodbye to. The wizard was surprised when she grabbed him in a full-body embrace. It was the most un-Aaliyah thing he had ever seen her do.

  “Be safe, Aidan,” she whispered in his ear.

  Aidan clenched his teeth to prevent himself from crying in front of his friends and climbed up on the horse. Thankfully there had been saddles in the back of the carriage, and one had survived the explosion, so the wizard wouldn’t have to attempt to ride the poor beast bareback. Aaliyah gave him the phoenix egg, which he put in his robe next to his wand.

  He gently guided the beast down the road and into the forest, heading toward the west side of the mountain. Aidan knew where his destiny was taking him. He was going to meet his father.

  ***

  Kyra dragged the third heavy, armored body into the woods. It was Aaliyah’s idea. The “amogh,” as Aidan called her, had pointed out that anyone walking down the path would be able to see the carnage. There was no hiding the burn marks, but at least the bodies and bits of carriage would be out of sight.

  The witch stopped and wiped her brow. Why couldn’t Malcommer use lighter armor? And lighter people wouldn’t be a bad idea either. She grabbed her fourth body by the foot and started dragging it to the forest. This was particularly gruesome. Aidan had put his hand on the soldier’s face to kill him. Kyra looked away before she would throw up. She didn’t know how to feel about the wizard. She had known he was powerful, but what he had done here was awe-inspiring and terrible at the same time. Some of those men had been begging for mercy as they died.

  “Then again, you don’t have any control over your prophecies. You can’t expect him to have control over his inner demons,” she told herself. “I mean, I blew up the carriage and I knew exactly what I was doing. I probably killed at least five of them.”

  That sentiment didn’t make her feel any better.

  The witch made the mistake of walking too close to Garret’s body on her way back from her stashing place in the woods.

  Oh, that magic made her blood drain. It was so evil. So dark. So … weak?

  Kyra frowned. There was something wrong. Something very, very wrong. Magic would stay with a body long after the soul was gone. That was how some witches could reanimate corpses and keep them alive for weeks.

  “Aaliyah!” Kyra called. The amogh came running out of the forest. She had been gathering firewood to burn the bodies.

  Kyra approached Garret’s body and motioned for Aaliyah to do the same. Then the witch took the amogh’s hand and put it on their fallen enemy’s face.

  The magic held for a moment against Aaliyah, then shattered, and Kyra fell backwards.

  “No no no,” she said. “This can’t be.”

  The face she saw wasn’t Garret’s. It was just a boy, probably about twenty years old. The Dark Angel must have put a cloaking spell on him and donated a generous amount of magic. The perfect trick. Kyra suddenly remembered the prophecy she had with Timothy back in her village.

  The witch grabbed Aaliyah by the shirt.

  “Timothy. Eleanor. Danger.” She said. Or at least, that’s what she hoped she said.

  The amogh got the message, and her eyes widened. Good, Aaliyah knew about the prophecy.

  Kyra jumped to her feet and helped Aaliyah to stand.

  They ran back to the campsite and Aaliyah threw the witch the last communication crystal. Kyra pulled some powder out of her bag and pushed its magic into the rock, but to no avail. There was nothing for it to connect to. Timothy’s crystal had been destroyed.

  She looked up in horror at Aaliyah. The amogh had a look in her eye that Kyra was beginning to expect from these travelers of Sortiledge. Determination. And Kyra found that it was contagious. A plan slowly hatched in the witch’s mind as she stared at her new friend.

  “Wyvern,” she said.

  Apparently the word was the same in both languages, because Aaliyah raised an eyebrow and said something that sounded like “Are you sure?” Kyra nodded.

  She didn’t have everything worked out yet, but she did know one thing. Too many people had died when her prophecies could have prevented it. No more. She was Kyra Elderborn, the last of her kind. And it was her destiny to end the Dark Angel’s life.

  14

  Timothy and Eleanor sat at a small table in the back corner of
an inn, waiting on the call from Aidan that everything was okay. They had turned their winter ranger cloaks inside out to hide the distinct color patterns, so they looked like idiots who didn’t know how to wear deer skins. That was okay for Timothy. Idiots could be found in pretty much every town, sorcerers from a rival country disguised as spies could not.

  Even in the middle of the day, the inn was full of loud, drunk men and women. Apparently it was the only place in the town that had an ample supply of alcohol, and these people seemed to be celebrating something. It was the perfect place for Timothy and Eleanor to use those gold coins the witch had given them.

  “I feel like we should be there now, helping Aidan. Why are you being so cautious?” Eleanor asked.

  Timothy sighed. He hated lying to Eleanor, but he wasn’t ready to tell her about the prophecy yet. That would make it real. Maybe after all this was over they could sit down and laugh about it.

  “I told you; I think this is part of Aidan’s destiny. We shouldn’t be involved.”

  They were currently sipping from two massive beer mugs. Timothy was pretty sure one of the rather drunk patrons had bought everyone in the room a free drink. Either that or someone thought they looked sad enough in their corner to pay for some beer to drown their woes in, because the fat bartender had brought them the mugs with a wink and a smile.

  Some of the more rambunctious of the group started chanting “Slovik! Slovik! Slovik!” and then lifted a huge man up on their shoulders. The unfortunate Slovik was holding two mugs in each hand and roaring with laughter, seemingly unaware—or at least uncaring—that his support was equally drunk. They all collapsed in a heap, with beer spilling everywhere.

  “I think ‘iyem faratu’ is how you ask for a room,” Eleanor said. “I have heard a few people say that to the bartender.”

  “Okay,” Timothy said, turning away from the rest of the crowd. He wasn’t sure how anyone could get drunk on the crap in front of him. It tasted like cow urine smelled. Oh well, the wizard was happy for any nutrition after the past few days.

  The bartender came around with two more drinks. Someone was definitely going to be broke when they woke up the next morning. Before he could leave, Eleanor waved for him to wait.

  “Iyem faratu” she said.

  The bartender chuckled and sat down.

  “First, it’s pronounced ‘iyen foruta.’ Second, you just announced a serious bout of flatulence to the whole room.”

  Eleanor and Timothy both glanced at each other and pulled their wands out under the table.

  “How do you speak our language?” Timothy whispered.

  “Oh, lots of people here do. This is where soldiers go to retire, after all. Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn you in, just so long as you ain’t here to cause trouble. You ain’t here to cause trouble, are you?”

  Timothy shook his head, but kept a firm grip on his wand.

  “Then you’ll do fine here. Pretty much everyone in this town is running away from something in their past. Just look at Slovik over there. A few years ago he was an executioner. Now he works the mines, and today he found a soulrock big enough to keep his family fed for a year. Well, maybe six months at the rate he’s buying drinks right now.”

  The fat man snickered. Timothy found himself relaxing. The bartender was bald and brown-eyed, with a small scar on top of his shiny head. He had huge cheeks that made him look like a chipmunk when he smiled.

  “So what can I do you for today?” he asked.

  “We need a room for one night,” Timothy said. Eleanor put the two gold coins on the table.

  The bartender raised his eyebrow. “That’d pay for a lot more than a room. Unfortunately I just rented the last one to Slovik.”

  The huge miner stood on a table, singing an old bar song really badly. He tried to step down onto a chair, but slipped and hit his head on the floor. He immediately started snoring.

  “Oh,” the bartender said. “On second thought, I think Slovik will stay down here tonight. Take this key.” He slid a wrought iron key across the table, and picked up one of the gold coins in exchange. “Keep your other coin. It’s the last room room on the right upstairs. I need to go help the poor man up before he’s trampled.”

  Timothy and Eleanor took the key and went upstairs, leaving their host to try to separate a bunch of men who were crying and screaming, “The mighty Slovik has fallen!”

  Their one-window room was small, and contained only a single hay mattress. Timothy was pretty sure there were bugs in it, based on the movement underneath the sheets.

  “So I guess we’re both taking the floor,” Eleanor said.

  They were setting up their sleeping mats when they heard a knock at the door. The fat bartender came in with half a roasted chicken and water.

  “I felt bad taking that much money for an old dump like this, so dinner’s on me. Anything else you need?”

  “We could actually use some information,” Eleanor said.

  Timothy saw the bartender tense up.

  “About what?” the fat man asked.

  “We heard of some demon worshipping cult. We want to know where they are,” Eleanor answered.

  “Oh, those guys. They’re mostly harmless. They come in, buy some food, never any beer or wine though. I don’t think the rumors about them are true. They’re about five miles up the path west of Wyvern’s Roost, last I heard. They travel a lot, and these mountains are huge.”

  Timothy frowned. The bartender’s voice sounded forced, or maybe rehearsed. Perhaps he just didn’t like speaking about them.

  “Thanks,” Eleanor said. “And thanks for the food.

  The fat man nodded and backed out of the room, leaving his delicious offerings on the ground. Timothy and Eleanor wasted no time digging in.

  The wizards had just finished eating when Aidan’s magic began to echo around the room. Timothy lunged for his pack and communication crystal.

  As soon as Aidan confirmed that the Dark Angel was dead, Timothy felt like a massive weight had been lifted from his chest. He still had a premonition that something bad was going to happen, but at least Eleanor was safe now. Well, as safe as she could be given the circumstances.

  When they were done Timothy put the crystal in his pack and leaned against the wall. Everything was going to be okay.

  “Why are you smiling like that?” Eleanor asked.

  The young boy looked at his best friend in the world. She had never seemed more perfect to him than she did now.

  “I’m happy to be here with you,” he said.

  Then the wizard remembered something that he had wanted to say to her in the woods, before they had been interrupted by the hags.

  “Eleanor, I—”

  There was a sudden banging on the door. Timothy leapt to his feet and drew his wand, but he already knew there was no fighting what was behind that door. The magic washed over him like cold, dirty water. It felt like staring into a deep, black pit. Timothy knew what it was. He knew who it was.

  The door slammed open, and two guards came in, followed by the Dark Angel himself. He was every bit as terrible as Timothy had imagined, ever since the boy had found his dead mother all those years ago. His enemy did not bear any of the usual marks of a sorcerer. No wand, staff, or mark upon his forehead. Instead, his massive black eyes were literally on fire. Strapped to his back was the crossbow that killed Timothy’s mother. He was clothed all in black, like a dragon rider.

  Timothy didn’t hesitate or start with baby spells. This man had taken too many lives with black magic, and so it was with black magic that Timothy intended to return the favor.

  “Nergaldok,” Timothy whispered.

  Magic met magic in mid-air, and fizzled into nothingness, first sapping all of Timothy’s strength.

  The young boy fell to his knees. All his worst nightmares were coming true.

  “Timothy Ashdown,” Garret said. “I’ve been expecting you for a very long time.”

  “What are you talking about?” E
leanor asked. Timothy was glad to see she had backed into a corner. Maybe she could dive through the window if he could cause a big enough distraction.

  Garret smiled. “Oh, your lover hasn’t told you? Go ahead Timothy. No point in hiding things now.”

  The wizard’s mind desperately raced, searching for any spell that might kill the Dark Angel. He might as well play along, stall until he could think of something.

  “Do you remember when I told you about finding my mother’s body, with the strange arrows?” Timothy asked. He nodded towards Garret, and understanding dawned in Eleanor’s eyes.

  “Yes, yes, that part was fun. She screamed a lot,” Garret said.

  Timothy lunged forward, but was caught by the guards.

  “You monster,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “That word has used to describe me, yes. But I want you to tell her about the other part. The part only Aidan knows.”

  Timothy blinked. How did Garret know about that?

  “Oh don’t be ridiculous. You think the soul of Tara can have a prophecy and the Dark Angel won’t know about it?”

  Garret leaned closer to Timothy. The young wizard’s heart beat faster as the monster’s eyes burned brighter.

  “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? Amazing. You travel with two mark bearers, and I could be speaking the tongues of Avalon for all you know. No matter. Tell the girl about the prophecy.”

  Timothy hung his head. He had no ideas. No escape plan. He was out of magic and out of spells. This was the end that Kyra had predicted.

  “When Kyra and I were alone in the village, she had a prophecy,” Timothy said. “She said … she said Garret would kill you, Eleanor. That’s why I tried to keep you away from him.”

  He glanced up at her. Her eyes were filled with fear, sadness, and disappointment at the same time.

  Garret smiled. “Yes, and I intend to do just that. Men, break their wands and smash their soulrocks. Get rid of that communication crystal too.”

  Timothy felt his wand ripped out of his hand. Terror welled up inside of him. This was it. They had lost.