Misanthropy (Born of the Phoenix Book 2)

by David Murray Forrester

  “Well, they could be a type of peanut, I guess. I did find them when I was digging up the yams.”

  “Good job, food-slave.” Ravage, putting the nuts aside, began feeding raw chips onto her skewer.

  There was the sound of shuffling feet behind them. Patsy glanced over her shoulder. Timidly, Mr Fours stood, half his body hidden behind the doorway. Watching the two women curiously, he sniffed at the air.

  “Here, fella.” Patsy said, holding out a chip.

  Cautiously, the creature crept towards them, taking the chip only once he was satisfied he was in no immediate danger. Biting into the chip, he grunted with pleasure, stuffing the rest quickly into his mouth.

  “He likes it!” Patsy smiled and handed him another one. Relaxed, he sat. Nudging himself closer to the pair. “Well, look at that. We’ve made a new friend.”

  “He’s kinda cute.”

  Mr Fours sat with them for several hours before curling up in ball to sleep beside Patsy. Ravage and Patsy talked for a long time, continuously feeding aged wood into the fire. Ravage had amassed quite a bundle; there was no shortage of debris to be found within the tower.

  Sitting back to back, resting their weight on each other, the two women readied themselves for sleep. Patsy closed her eyes, dropping her chin into her chest. Ravage yawned, staring wishfully into the glowing embers.

  Sword-sharpening, it was a habit Ravage enjoyed before sleeping. With neither sword or stone in her possession, she sat, remembering the beauty and keen edge of her dempt longsword. Losing the sword was hard to accept. It had been a labour of love, forging the blade. She longed to have it back, though knew she didn’t possess the courage to return to the estate where she abandoned it. ‘Look forward.’ Her father’s voice entered her mind. ‘If you look to the past too often, you will be trapped there.’ Ravage often wondered if that was his way of moving past her mother’s death, but it couldn’t have been. Urijah never moved on.

  Musk…

  ‘Don’t do it to yourself.’ Wiping a tear from her eye, she forced herself to remove the mare’s face and gentle eyes from her mind. “She made it out of the storm. She’s fine, she’s alive.”

  Ravage eye’s opened. Her sleep broken by a constant heavy pounding, resonating from the southern region of the ravine. A vibration ran through the tower. Patsy sat up, dim light from the crescent moon illuminating Ravage’s silhouette.

  “What’s that noise?” Looking around, Patsy noticed Mr Fours was gone.

  “It’s coming from the ravine.” Ravage crept to the window. Peering out, she could hardly believe her eyes. “Come look at this,” she whispered.

  Three colossal shorkus stalked through the ravine. The ground shaking with each impact of their giant feet. Fear gripped Patsy as she beheld the monstrous behemoths approach the tower. As they passed by, the last stopped, its tail slowly swaying back and forth. Its cruel eyes turned to the window, panicked, Ravage and Patsy ducked, looking nervously at each other.

  “Shit. Do you think it saw us?”

  “I dunno?” Ravage turned her attention to the fire. The embers were glowing; she hoped it had roused the monster’s curiosity.

  Growling, the behemoth moved on, walking in toe with its hideous companions. The pair sighed with relief as crouching, they watched the shorkus continue north.

  “That was scary.” There was a slight tremble in Patsy’s hands.

  “If it wanted to, that shorku could have torn the tower apart.” Ravage moved beside the embers. She felt humbled, being reminded how terrifying the world outside could be.

  Patsy remained by the window, gazing out into the night. A while later, as Patsy stepped away from the brisk air to join Ravage, a horrifying roar echoed around them, bellowing from miles away. The rocky walls of the ravine trembled.

  “The panguar!” Ravage raced to the window, Patsy in toe.

  They could see nothing, only hear the horrible screams and the constant mayhem of the enraged behemoths.

  “Do you think it’s them?” Patsy’s nerves were on edge. “They’re too smart aren’t they? To go near those shorku.”

  “They are,” nodded Ravage.

  The pair hoped for the best. Hope was all they had, as fearfully, they stared into the darkness of the north.

  Chapter 3

  Engalian royalty is not renown for bravery. Bards don’t regale audiences with tales of valour by recent, or ancient kings. The royals ruled, as always, sheltered within the safe bosom of Floreska. Never had an Engalian king lead his soldiers to victory on the battlefield. Ordinance, flowed down the chain of command. Knights of mettle were the true foundations of the empire.

  Breaking the mould, Traciel rode at the forefront of the cavalcade. With Kelaire by her side and fifty stalwart knights in tow, the queen feared nothing. The Drekkar Ruins lay deep within the Trillian jungle, hundreds of miles north. Determination gave strength to her every movement. Her blood, fuelled with wrath, surged within her. No-one was going to take the kingdom from her, especially not a demigod who hailed from a tiny island in the Southern Ocean. Traciel cared not for Brackish’s abilities. So he brandished wings of pure fire? There were ways to overcome his divine powers and she would discover them. Traciel would bring the Surangi Lord to his knees.

  Kelaire, concealing her true form, played the role of the Queen’s Maidaire. Whilst her shimmering wings of ivory and pearl were veiled, she could not so easily abandon her flowing blue locks of gorgeous hair. With a short riding skirt and long boots, she enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her legs, though Kelaire often noticed General Haycox ogling her toned thighs.

  An amorous smile was upon his face as he drew his horse beside hers. “Considering that you’re the Queen’s Maidaire, I’m surprised we haven’t seen more of each other.” Haycox, seeing the rapier upon her belt, grinned ever more. Perhaps he could offer her sparring lessons, a chance to be closer, more intimate with the striking woman. The rapier, with its extravagant silver guard and quillon, was not the sword of an amateur.

  “Is that so, General?”

  “I do spend a lot of time in the Queen’s company.” Those thighs. Oh, how he desired her.

  “And how often do you visit her private chambers?”

  “Her private chambers?” Was that an accusation? His brow narrowed. “Never.”

  “Well, then.” Turning her face away, Kelaire’s voice was riddled with contempt. “That is where I tend to the Queen’s needs. There is no reason for you and I, to see more of each other.”

  Being a general, Haycox was unaccustomed to such audacity. His pride was wounded, as was his heart. “You may be the Maidaire, but you should watch your tone with me.”

  “Helina!”

  Answering the call, Helina, Captain of the Queensguard, joined them. “Yes, Kelaire?” Helina’s warhorse was larger than Haycox’s mount. The black cape of the Queensguard, pinned by onyx jewels, draped over Helina’s shoulders and rested upon the horse’s back.

  “General Haycox is both a skilled and powerful warrior, wouldn’t you agree?” Kelaire said, staring at the general.

  Helina wondered what the pair were playing at. A challenge, perhaps? Long had she desired to trounce the general. The snide words of mockery he muttered to his soldiers regarding Helina being a female knight had not escaped her. Little did Haycox realise there were men more loyal to her, than him. “I guess so.”

  “And the north? It’s a very dangerous region, is it not?”

  “Considering that many of our scouting parties never return, I would say yes. The north is a very dangerous place.”

  “I’m no strategist,” Kelaire began with a sly smile. “But don’t you think it’d be prudent to have some of our strongest warriors acting as rearguard?”

  ‘She’s a clever one.’ Helina thought to herself. ‘I wonder what he did, to piss her off so much?’ As Captain of the Queensguard, Haycox would have to obey any order Helina gave him. It felt good to abandon the confines of Floreska and venture into the unknown,
now the journey was even sweeter. “You’re right, Kelaire.” Helina said, trying to hide her devious grin. “If by chance we are ambushed, having strong warriors bringing up the rear would be a major advantage for us. What do you think, General?”

  The general eyed each woman and nodded. “It does sound like a solid strategy. I’ll instruct some of my strongest knights to act as rearguard. That way, we’ll be prepared if anything does happen.”

  “You’re missing the point,” said Kelaire. “We want you, to act as rearguard.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.” Helina was enjoying this.

  “As General, my place is by the Queen’s side.”

  “Actually, it’s the role of the Queensguard, to serve at her side.”

  Resentment shone in Haycox’s eyes. He could not dispute her statement, for it was indeed the duty of the Queensguard to surround her. Without a word, he pulled on his reins, turning his back on the two women.

  “What was all that about?” Helina asked once the general was out of ear-shot.

  Kelaire did not answer. Spurring her horse forwards, she rode on alone.

  “She’s gruff, that one,” Helina muttered to herself. It mattered not. Haycox was on his way to the end of the column. It felt good, to put him in his place.

  Avoiding townships and villages with their prying eyes and meddling gossip, Traciel lead her force through forest trails rarely travelled. Uninhabited grasslands and rolling hills stretched for hundreds of miles, broken apart by narrow rivers and patches of dense forest.

  Engalians had not established settlements in the northern most regions of their empire. Partly, they feared the horrifying creatures that dwell amongst the mountain ranges. Colossal in size, they could destroy entire villages overnight. There was also The Delphi Chasm, a gaping abyss created during the harrowing battle between Delenair and her two brothers, Nieron and Thelias, an infamous region, none dared travel there. Dark entities had descended into the abyss, for the corpses of demigods rot in the bottom of the chasm.

  Sheltered under a rock overhang, the cavalcade rested, sitting around fires while the darkness of night descended upon them. Weary from their journey, sentinels leant against their long spears with somnolent vigilance.

  “We’re on the border of our land now,” Haycox handed his whetstone to Knight Jerron. “So far, we haven’t come across any shorkus, which is surprising.”

  “It is surprising.” Jerron, unsheathing his longsword, inspected the blade. “But, it’s only a matter of time, Ben. Those monsters will be on us sooner or later.”

  Haycox nodded. The general allowed but a sparse few to address him by his first name. Formality was important within the chain of command. Despising lesser men, Haycox granted friendship only to those whom he considered to be his equals.

  “What’s with you riding at the back?” Jerron ran the stone along his blade. “It’s not like you, to be rearguard.”

  “That’s Kelaire’s doing,” he said with a scowl. “She had Helina make me rearguard. It’s frigging bullshit. I should be up the front.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Ben,” he paused, lowering the stone. “Have you noticed how fine Kelaire’s legs are? Shit-me, I wouldn’t mind climbing in-between those.”

  Glancing in Kelaire’s direction, Haycox was smitten by her smile as she sat, making jests with Traciel. He detested her personality, yet desired her body, blood running hot with insatiable lust.

  “She’s a bitch.” The scent of roasting meat captured Haycox’s attention. “How long till that wild boar’s ready, you think?”

  “Smells great, doesn’t it? Probably another hour, at the least.”

  Moaning, his stomach was displeased. “An hour? Suppose I should go check on the sentinels while I wait.” He needed the distraction and, if he was lucky, an enemy would present itself.

  It was another early start. The morning meal, prudent. Supplies were rationed tactfully. To Traciel, the group’s movement speed was of highest priority. The queen did not want to burden the cavalcade with pack horses, heavily laden with supplies. The knights were ordered to wear light armour. It felt foreign to most, not to be donned in a full set of battle armour. Carrying less weight, the horse’s endurance did not deteriorate, each day awakening with renewed stamina.

  As they rode through a valley, where rolling hills flourished with wild flowers, Traciel couldn’t help but be reminded of the beautiful landscapes surrounding Belderra and Foxglove Mountain. A final glimpse of Engalia, before the landscape would transform, becoming new and foreign.

  Two gigantic trees stood on the horizon. Traciel almost mistook them for mountains, for their trunks were immensely wide and their great branches reached out into the clouds. Their roots penetrated deep, absorbing life essence from the core of the Fornen Swamp. A trio of toherns, diving from the towering trees, spread their expansive wings and sailed across the swamp. Creatures below gazed up as the haunting shadows of the fierce predators passed overhead. A sigh escaped Traciel as she watched the silhouettes fade into the distance; an attack from those winged terrors would spell certain doom for her journey. Leading the company closer to the rugged hills, she hoped to avoid any further tohern sightings.

  Now they were beyond the borders of their own land, the cavalcade’s progression into the unknown invigorated each rider, their imaginations conjuring not only treacherous dangers, but unimaginable wealth and treasure, just waiting to be discovered within forests and ancient castles which had been left abandoned for centuries.

  The hills steepened and soon the riders found themselves plodding slowly through a rocky bog. Water trickled from the high places. Long grass sprouting amongst dense mud. There were many ponds. Upon their glistening surfaces, a considerable variety of broad-leafed lilies and duckweed flourished. Enchanted by the scenery, the knights regarded vigilance of little precedence.

  An eruption of bubbles broke the surface of a pond. A passing knight gazed into the water. Air rose intermittently. Signalling his comrade, the two waited beside the pool.

  “Got to be a turtle,” the knight said, leaning forwards in his saddle.

  “I wouldn’t mind some turtle soup,” replied his friend. Onion, garlic, a splash of lemon, it would make a fine meal indeed.

  Water surged. The creature who broke the surface was no turtle, but a monster spawned from waking nightmare. Moss grew along its scales. Its limbs were webbed, sharp and deadly. With long arms the horrifying beast smote both knights, their bodies shredded by sharp claws. Lives taken instantly. Clutching the horses, the creature retreated to the hidden depths of its lair with its fleshy prize.

  Spears were thrust into the pond. The attacks futile, for the pond was far deeper than the knights imagined.

  Cursing, Haycox urged his horse onwards to join his warriors. The mud was thick. His horse sunk into a dense bog. The sudden stoppage threw the general from his saddle. Grime covered his body, stench assaulted his nose. Sneering, he arose and found the mud was about his knees. Neighing loudly, the horse struggled with great effort against the sludge before returning to firmer ground. Kicking grime from its legs, the steed looked apologetically at Haycox.

  Rolling his eyes, the general toiled through the mud.

  Another horrifying beast arose from a pond beside Haycox. Fear consumed him as he drew his longsword. With limited mobility, he doubted his chances of survival.

  Webbing allowed the creature to surge forwards with frightening speed. Rushing past the general, the monster bore down upon the horse, viciously tearing the helpless animal apart with brutal ferocity. Blood everywhere.

  Haycox cursed the beast as he struggled through the mud towards it. It paid him no heed, for the meat on the general’s bones was nothing compared to the bountiful feast the steed would provide. The creature possessed undeniable strength, lifting the horse’s carcass, it too, like the first, vanished beneath the dark water of a pond.

  Knights bellowed war cries, banding together to fend off a group of monste
rs which had arisen to reap havoc and bloodshed. Helina ordered her knights to surround and protect the queen. With shield and sword, they fought valiantly.

  Leaping through the bog, Kelaire moved with inhuman agility. The monsters towered over her, yet she came upon them fearlessly, her rapier striking with deadly accuracy.

  Bleeding knights were seized by their comrades and dragged to safety. Others, less fortunate, found themselves in watery graves.

  The retreat was frantic. Helina led the survivors into gathering woodlands. Faces were stained with blood and mud. Muscles were spent, legs exhausted.

  Internally, Haycox fumed. He should not have been made rearguard. He should have been there. He could have turned the tide of battle. This loss was on Helina, and Kelaire. Blaming them for the carnage, Haycox was resolved to redefine the current chain of command. He was the general, the hardened war veteran. Helina was a glorified bodyguard while Kelaire was little more than a servant. It was time for the pair of them to take orders from him.

  Distraught, Traciel wandered through the encampment. Eleven knights were slain during the ambush. Eighteen horses, unaccounted for, presumed dead. Six men lay wounded, bleeding from multiple lacerations. It was a scathing defeat. The knights failed to live up to the queen’s expectations. How were they decimated so easily? Where was Haycox to answer for this travesty?

  “How does that feel?” Helina knelt, bandaging a knight’s wounds.

  “Better. Thank you, Captain.”

  “Here, have some water.” Holding the flask to his mouth, Helina smiled as he took a mouthful. “Just rest for now.” As she stood, turning to the next wounded man, Haycox confronted her, pressing his finger against her chest.

  “Happy now, are we?” he snarled.

  “What?”

  “This is all your fault, you know.” Pushing the Captain, Haycox advanced with severe aggression. “If you hadn’t ordered me to be rearguard, I would have been right there in the thick of it, to fight off those beasts. I could have done what you failed to do.”