Phoenix Ascendant - eARC

by Ryk E. Spoor

  “RION!”

  Chapter 2

  Tobimar caught at Kyri’s arm and pulled her back. “Don’t! We don’t know how these open, remember?” He caught her gaze, staring steadily into the huge, gray eyes, waited until they focused on him. “You all right?”

  She closed her eyes and then nodded slowly. At that point, the recognition of the name she’d screamed hit him. “Wait. Rion? Your brother? But…he died in front of you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes…yes, of course. You’re right.” She cast an agonized, confused glance at the tube as Lady Shae slid a floating cradle under it. “But…but that looks like him. I mean, it really looks like him.”

  “You’re looking through a not-perfectly-clear window at some guy floating in whatever-that-stuff-is that Wieran filled these tubes with,” Poplock pointed out. “Your eyes might be tricking you. Shae’s got that one; let’s finish this work up. We’re not opening any of these things yet, so there’s nothing more to do with that mystery anyway until we’re done here. Right?”

  Kyri tore her attention away from the receding, mysterious tube with a visible effort, then gave a rather forced-looking smile. “Of course, you’re right. As usual.”

  The two of them worked in silence for a few minutes. Tobimar couldn’t help but think about the bizarre event. What could that mean? Kyri’s got really good senses, and if anyone would know her brother, it should be her. What if that is Rion?

  “Could be another trap,” the little Toad muttered in his ear, making him twitch.

  “What? Are you reading minds now, Poplock?” he murmured back.

  “Not hard to guess what you’re thinking about. Probably what she’s thinking about too.”

  “I suppose. Yes, it could be a trap. But for what purpose?”

  “That’s the murky part, yeah. It’s not an illusion in that oversized jar, I can tell you that; if her eyes weren’t just confused, then whoever’s in there must look awfully like her brother.”

  “But looking like him would be pretty useless.”

  “Very useless,” Kyri’s voice spoke from behind them, making them both jump. “Sorry to startle you.”

  “We were trying not to…”

  “I know. But it isn’t as though I’m not thinking the same things.” She shook her head as they started maneuvering yet another sealed tube up and out. “I watched Rion die. An impostor won’t fool me for a second.”

  Poplock made a face. “Don’t be so hopping sure. We couldn’t even tell that Miri and Shae were demons until they dropped the masks. We’re dealing with great demons and gods—they can fog even Myrionar’s sight, and you know it.”

  Tobimar could see Kyri try to come up with a countering argument and fail. “An Eternal Servant maybe?” he suggested. “Like the Unity Guard?”

  The Phoenix Justiciar shook her head. “Possible, I suppose, but it makes no sense. Why put one of those artificial things in a suspension tube? They don’t age on their own and I can’t think they’ll be better off soaking in liquid than operating. And what good would such a thing be without the original alive anyway?”

  “I don’t have answers there,” Tobimar admitted. “But I’ll tell you what: once we’ve got every tube out of here, that one will be the first to be opened. We know the tubes are stable, so the Guards will be okay as long as they’re out of here, and your tube constitutes a mystery that we really want to solve.”

  Kyri smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, Tobimar. You know it would eat at me if I had to keep waiting.”

  “Well, assuming that Shae or Miri or Hiriista don’t come up with some really convincing argument that we should keep waiting, I’ll go along with that idea,” Poplock said. “But remember that this is their country and…Oh, drought.”

  “What?” Tobimar suddenly became aware of a faint hissing noise in the background. He whirled, seeking its source, and found it; a grayish line shimmering from the far wall. Water. The wall has finally sprung a leak.

  Kyri ignited in golden flame. “Move it, everyone! I know we’re exhausted, but the wall holding back Enneisolaten is giving way!”

  Muttered oaths echoed around the room and the exhausted salvage crews redoubled their efforts, yanking the tubes from their foundations, desperately dragging them to floating cradles, sprinting out with them. Kyri placed herself against the far wall, which had begun to crack across its surface, and auric-orange flame spread, dug in, anchored, refused the movement, denied the water entrance. But Tobimar knew that her power would not last forever, or even for terribly long. Both of them had drained their reserves almost to nothing in the battle against Sanamaveridion; he saw the strain on her face already.

  He saw Poplock scuttling around the wrecked mystical machinery at the center of the Great Array, shoving various things into his neverfull pack. Don’t know what he’s doing, but there isn’t too much he can do to help in carrying these things, so I suppose he’s doing whatever he thinks is best.

  There was a cracking, grumbling noise from above, and part of the ceiling sagged.

  “Everyone out!” bellowed Tanvol, his deep voice echoing around the room. “We’ve done what we can! Phoenix! Phoenix, run!”

  But instead of running, Kyri walked, backing away from the far wall a step at a time, golden fire streaming from her arms, covering the wall, trying to climb higher, to grasp the bulging ceiling above.

  Poplock bounded to Tobimar’s shoulder. “Come on, go, go, go!”

  “I should help—”

  “She knows what she’s doing! You don’t have enough control of your power yet!”

  Tobimar gritted his teeth but couldn’t argue. He could use the power of Terian to reinforce himself, and to deliver incomparable strikes against his enemies, but controlling that power to reach out and hold something without possibly making it worse…no, he didn’t know enough to do that.

  But Lady Shae and Miri knew how, and did. The two former demons flanked Kyri and their power—white and aqua—reached out, building columns and braces of temporary might and evanescent energy. The workers were streaming out, Tobimar now passing most of the stragglers, glancing over his shoulder at the three women, still methodically retreating, holding uncountable tons of stone and water at bay through unbending will as much as immortal power.

  Tanvol was surveying the room himself, making sure all the others were getting out. “Lady Shae! Miri! Phoenix! We’re all out! No more time to waste, come on!”

  Tobimar, Poplock clinging tightly to his shoulder, and Hiriista ran through the open doors of Wieran’s lab, hearing a creaking, ripping rumble starting, shaking the stone below them. Light Tanvol and Anora Lal sprinted past them with Unity Guard speed.

  Tobimar couldn’t keep from turning around.

  A blaze of white-gold light appeared in the entryway, and he saw all three women flying towards him, Kyri’s gold-fire wings stretched out and nearly touching the sides of the corridor, while Shae and Miri streaked through the air seemingly by will of light alone.

  And a rumbling roar echoed out behind them; dark-roiling movement seethed into view.

  “Great Desert!” he cursed, and ran.

  Kyri caught up with him after only a few strides and caught him up, speeding up the stairs, weaving between the support columns. Behind them the water roared like Sanamaveridion’s rage, and Poplock gave a terrifed, wordless squeak. Cold, foul-smelling wind blew past them and Tobimar saw to his horror that the water was catching up, channeled by the tunnel into unspeakable velocity, reaching, hissing spray vaporizing from Kyri’s flaming wings, and then—

  —water caught them, coiling, grasping, filled with stinking bottom-mud and shards of stone, propelling them onward—

  —smashed into a wall, a stunning blow, Poplock torn from his shoulder—

  —and again, forward, unable to breathe, lungs beginning to protest, tumbling over and over, hammered by pebbles and rocks and timbers torn from the bracing below, racing at unguessable speed—

  —breath burning from
being held in, unable to see, water dimming even the brightest lights, or perhaps there were no lights anymore…

  Tobimar felt darkness greater than that surrounding him starting to close in on his consciousness, a red-tinged blackness that meant death; once he gave in, he would try to breathe, and the vile water would fill his lungs. But he couldn’t hold on much longer. Poplock…Kyri…

  Abruptly he struck stone, rough but symmetrical, cut and ordered, and the headlong flight had slowed, the water was becoming sluggish, hesitating, going backward. With the last of his strength he reached out, grabbed hold of the stone beneath, and held on as the water streamed by, first slowly, then faster and faster, as knives seemed to be impaling his lungs and his grip weakened. He felt his fingers starting to slip—

  —and a massive hand closed around his and yanked him up.

  The gasp of pure air was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt. For a moment he simply hung there, letting the air force back the reddish-black haze that had nearly taken him. Then he managed to open his eyes again.

  Tanvol was holding him half-suspended in air, the huge Light gasping for breath himself, draped across a brace that was jammed diagonally in the stairway that ascended to the Valatar Throneroom.

  “Thanks,” Tobimar managed.

  “Think…nothing of it…Prince of Skysand,” Tanvol replied slowly. His grip slackened. “Glad to…have been able…to provide a last…service.”

  A sliver of ice pierced Tobimar’s heart. The massive, boisterous, inexhaustible Light seemed to be…fading. “Last…what do you mean?”

  “It appears,” Tanvol said, with his brilliant grin wan and regretful, “that one of the few capsules…we failed to retrieve…was my own.” His eyes were clouded. “I…see two places at once…here, and…a dark place, with vague shimmering against glass before my eyes, and it is cold.”

  “T-Tanvol? No, no, no!” Miri was stumbling up the steps. “No, I won’t let—”

  The rumbling chuckle was a ghost of its former self, but the humor was there. “Alas, my one-time demonic comrade, I fear you…cannot forbid…death.” The black eyes blinked, glazed, the head was drooping, even as Lady Shae and Phoenix staggered up. “I see…cracks forming. Slow enough…to allow a farewell…swift enough to not draw out the pain. It…was a good life…Lady Shae…Miri…do not mourn, but…sing for me. The Light…awaits me. I see it now…Light beyond here…beyond the glass…that drips water upon…my unmoving face.”

  Tanvol’s eyes closed, but he was smiling, and the lips parted once more. “…and with…such glory ahead…who wants…to live…forever?”

  The massive Light’s body sagged, and Tobimar caught it as it slid, now lifeless, to the ground.

  Chapter 3

  Poplock gave his own little salute from atop Danrall’s shoulder as Tanvol’s body, clad in a pure white robe with the pattern of the Seven and One embroidered on it in gems and gold thread, was borne towards the shores of Enneisolaten by seven people: Lady Shae, Miri, Anora, Herminta Gantil and another Color whose name Poplock didn’t quite remember, Hiriista…and Tobimar. Tobimar had insisted he be the Seventh, and none had argued with him.

  The Unity Guard had been silent as the body was prepared and the seven had stood. But as Tanvol passed the last in line, they began to sing, a solemn and powerful chant, and turned as one to march behind the seven bearers. Looking behind, Poplock saw most of the population of the city, thousands strong. They were following, some grim, some sad, some crying silent tears, but all of them following with proud and measured pace.

  As the procession reached the shore—a shore more broad and low than it had been before the Great Dragon rose from beneath its depths—the Unity Guard began to fan out, spreading towards other white-wrapped bodies waiting on simple rafts at the edge of the great lake.

  Tanvol would not depart alone.

  At that, we were lucky. Even counting the Unity Guards, less than a hundred people died in Sha Kaizatenzei Valatar. There had, of course, been at least thirty-five other tubes that had been crushed along with four other Unity Guards, and Poplock suspected a lot more had died in outlying areas—the ones actually struck by Sanamaveridion’s ravening fires—but while the main city had suffered much physical damage, its people had mostly survived. Poplock hopped from Danrall’s shoulder and, after a moment, bounced back to Tobimar and climbed back to his accustomed place. I owe Tanvol too; I…wouldn’t want to be doing any of this without Tobimar.

  Lady Shae yielded the place of honor next to Tanvol, Light of Kaizatenzei, to Tobimar, and instead became honor guard to Light Dravan Igo, the one Kyri had killed in freeing Miri. The others took up places at the side of the fallen, Unity Guard or merchant or mother or, in two heartbreaking instances, child, and stood tall and straight, looking west towards the setting sun.

  “Lady Phoenix,” Shae said, “we await you.”

  Kyri stood at the very edge of the water, at the farthest point of land remaining. “I do not know your rituals well…”

  Lady Shae shook her head. “I was the speaker for the Light, but in this disaster I had a terrible hand; I will not speak our words. You know us well enough, Phoenix, and your friend and companion stands as Final Guide to his savior. I trust you will find the words and gestures of your own that say what needs be said.”

  Poplock nodded. Shae carried too much guilt for these deaths to feel comfortable giving the last rites, and the same went for Miri; it made sense that she’d give the position to the next most visible hero, the Phoenix who had shattered wave and withstood the Dragon with wings and sword of flame that had been visible even from endangered Valatar.

  Kyri took a deep breath, and when she spoke, her voice was unnaturally strong, but not a shout; it merely carried like a shout, like a crack of thunder, yet spoke quietly, softly, warmly.

  “We stand here on the shores of Enneisolaten, at the border between land and inland sea, to say our farewells and give final salutes to those who have crossed the greater border from this world to the Light in the Darkness,” Kyri began. “I will not tell you not to grieve, for grieving is a part of loss; even if we are all to meet beyond death, still it is the departing of friends, of family, of children and teachers and lovers and protectors.

  “But they would be happy to know that most of us remain, that their hopes and dreams were not destroyed—that Sha Kaizatenzei Valatar still stands, and will rise again. The Tower is fallen, but the Light endures within us all, and lives most strongly of all in those who gave of themselves that we might live.”

  She turned and faced the sun, now a blazing sphere sitting atop the surface of the great lake, drawing a glowing path across the water to where Phoenix stood. “I cannot speak for the Light in the Darkness, for Terian; but I can speak for Myrionar, his ally and friend, and I stand ready to send them on their journey to the Light. Let Tanvol, Light of Kaizatenzei, lead your people to the Light, and I hope and pray that Myrionar will be his guide.”

  Poplock held on as Tobimar shoved the little raft out, and it floated free, slowly drifting on the water. Kyri pointed her sword, and golden fire reached out and caressed the wood of the raft, pulling it forward, guiding it to drift outward along the path of gold-shimmering water, flames of the same color beginning to dance along the edges of the raft.

  More scrapes within the silence, and the other rafts with their white-wrapped cargo began to drift from the shore. Kyri’s red-gold flame flowed down both shores, directing the drift, and setting each to glow with the same fire.

  Flame leapt higher on Tanvol’s raft, which was now drifting farther away. “Terian the Infinite, in the name of Myrionar I commend these people, the fallen of Kaizatenzei, into your care. I ask you—I beg you—to hear me and bring them to you, receive them into the Light, for though they knew not your name, they served you and have held your Light in their hearts for all their lives.”

  Kyri bowed her head, and then raised it, gazing steadily at the armada of fiery rafts, all flickering with the golden fire
of the Phoenix.

  Then Poplock felt Tobimar’s shoulder stiffen beneath him, even as his own little hands gripped suddenly tighter.

  The setting sun ignited in blue-white fire, spreading star-bright light across the water, a path of gleaming silver and sapphire that stretched to meet the oncoming fleet, and as it did so their flames turned to argent and sky. Silhouetted against the now brilliantly-blazing orb was a tiny figure, cloak or cape streaming in a distant wind, arms outstretched as if to welcome friends and family home. The pure, brilliant fire rose higher, dazzling all of the watchers, so that Poplock turned away and even Phoenix raised her hand to shield her eyes.

  And when the light faded, there were only the calm ripples of Enneisolaten glittering ruby and amber in the last rays of the setting sun; of the myriad rafts and their fires there was not a trace.

  For long moments, none spoke; even Kyri was staring in disbelief.

  Then Lady Shae gave the great spread-armed bow to the Phoenix Justiciar, lowering herself until her forehead nearly touched the shore, and there was an echoing rustle up and down the shore as everyone from Hiriista and Miri to the entirety of the gathered crowd followed her lead.

  Only Tobimar and Poplock stood unbowed and looked into the gray eyes that still showed Kyri’s wonder that she, she of all people, could be the focus of such gratitude and awe…and the heavy awareness of the responsibility that placed upon her. And now she’s become a symbol all over again, to these people, as much as she was to Evanwyl. Oh, Tobimar’s got some of that too, but she’s got the presence…and the god acts through her. They’ll remember the Phoenix of Myrionar first and always.

  At last Shae rose. “We—we all—thank you, and through you Myrionar, for Its intercession on our behalf, and give praise to the Light, to Terian himself, for taking our fallen to his side.” There was a murmur of agreement, echoing gratitude that covered the peninsula. “We can now return to our city with the sure knowledge that those we had lost await us in the Light, and wish us all joy and strength.”