DAWN OF THE PHOENIX (Gods Of The Forever Sea Book 1)

by A. J. STRICKLER

  King Havalon was on his knees in the mud, the rain beading off his well-oiled armor. He crushed his son’s headless corpse to his large chest. Tears fell from his eyes, mixing with the rain. “Oh, my dear boy, it’s my fault, I should have kept you with me. Why, God? I have honored you always. Why did you let that son of darkness kill my boy? Why?” the king screamed at the heavy sky. King Havalon pointed at the castle. “Attack, full attack. Bring me my son’s head and a dukedom for any man that can kill that half-breed.”

  Word of Prince Donovan’s death had spread through the Abberdonian ranks rapidly. Prince Griffyn was grief-stricken when he heard his brother had been killed. He called his best men to him and they began to climb one of the siege towers that had been pushed against the center of the castle wall. He would kill that creature. He had to, or he could never look his father in the face again.

  “Kian, what the hell are you doing? The Abberdonians have gone mad since you killed their prince. We can’t hold them back much longer. Even the king has joined the attack.” K’xarr pointed to where Havalon stood, just out of bow shot, brandishing his great sword and barking orders at his troops. “Why did you take the prince’s head? Wasn’t it good enough to just kill him? Whose idea was it to attack anyway, Cromwell’s? I didn’t give that order. Are you even listening to me, you damn half-breed?”

  Kian wasn’t listening. He looked at the siege tower, not far down the wall from where they stood. The Bandarans were holding strong, the Abberdonians had not gotten a foothold on the wall yet. They had brought only two siege towers with them from Turill. If they would have had a third, they might have taken the wall by now.

  Kian turned and faced K’xarr. “Tell your men to pull back if the other prince comes up the wall.”

  K’xarr shook his head. “No. If we pull back, they will get too many men on top and then we’re finished.”

  Kian grabbed K’xarr by the collar of his breastplate. “You have to trust me.”

  K’xarr looked at the shorter man. He could see the determination in Kian’s eyes. The half-elf was no strategist, but K’xarr could tell he had some kind of crazy plan in his head. “Don’t make me regret this. Rufio, tell the men that if they see Prince Griffyn to fall back, but don’t make it obvious.”

  Kian patted K’xarr on the shoulder and handed Prince Donovan’s head to Rufio. “Hold this for me, please,” he told the captain as he headed towards the siege tower.

  K’xarr looked at Rufio, holding the bloody head, and gave the Dragitan a grim smile. “You never know what you’ll be doing when you wake up in the morning do you, Captain?”

  Rufio looked down at the head. “Not since the day I met you, General.”

  Griffyn rallied his men inside the siege tower. He would make the half-breed pay for what he had done to his brother. Then he would hang the rest of the Bandarans from the walls and let the crows pick their bodies clean.

  He jumped from the siege tower to the battlements of the castle, his men following right behind him. The Abberdonians began to gain ground as their prince moved forward along the wall. The Bandarans fell back before the Abberdonian noble as he led his men forward.

  Griffyn knew he was a better swordsman than Donovan. He would kill the half-breed and bring the monster’s head to his father. He would show no mercy for anyone inside Castle Blackthorn—men, women, and children. None would escape his vengeance. He would kill them all for Donovan and his father. None would be spared his wrath.

  He cut a man down and watched him fall to the ground below. Snarling as the next Bandaran came on, the Abberdonian Prince drove his sword through the Bandaran’s chest. His rage fueled, his sword arm struck again and again with deadly accuracy. He would have his revenge and no one would stop him. Blinded by grief, the prince continued to cut his way down the battlements of Castle Blackthorn, looking for the thing that had killed his brother.

  K’xarr sent men to try and cut off the prince’s avenue of retreat. They went down inside the castle and came up on the other side of the siege tower. They attacked the Abberdonians that had gained the wall from behind. K’xarr hoped to cut the prince off from the tower and any reinforcements that may come to his aid.

  K’xarr watch him fighting his way down the battlements. He didn’t think Griffyn cared that he might have no retreat left to him. The young prince was out for blood. Griffyn meant to take the walls or die.

  The queen’s general looked on as the Bandarans fell back before the Abberdonian attack. Kian had better hurry with his scheme, he thought, or they could lose the wall and their lives.

  Griffyn cut another man down, he fell at his feet and the prince took pleasure in watching the soldier die. He kicked the dead man off the wall to keep the walkway clear for the men behind him. When Griffyn looked up to take on the next Bandaran, he saw the half-breed standing before him. His anger boiled over. “Now you die, monster,” the prince shouted with a fury born from loss.

  Griffyn brought his sword down with the speed and might of a man who was grief-stricken and in pain.

  The half-breed stepped to the side and parried the blow with ease. Again the young Abberdonian noble swung, and again his blade was turned aside. It took two more attacks before the last Prince of Abberdon understood he would die this day. Griffyn was breathing hard; he stopped and looked at the beast. “Kill me then, monster. I will not be made a fool of.” Malice struck so fast, the prince never felt the blade slice through his neck.

  K’xarr saw Kian coming down the wall with Griffyn’s head. The half-elf was covered with Abberdonian blood. He had helped the Bandarans drive the Abberdonians back off the wall before returning to K’xarr. It hadn’t taken long. After their prince was killed, the fight had left them and the assault had fallen apart.

  “You have killed both princes. What now?” K’xarr asked.

  Kian didn’t reply, he simply went and retrieved the other head from an empty bucket where Rufio had put it.

  K’xarr watched as Kian looked over the battlefield until he saw Havalon standing near the gatehouse. He climbed on to the battlements where the Abberdonian King could easily see him.

  K’xarr finally began to understand what the half-elf intended to do. He ordered his battle horns sounded and everyone looked to the wall. Kian slowly raised the two princes’ gory heads, one in each hand. The battle went silent, men stopped fighting and looked at the horrible scene on the top of the wall. The monster the Abberdonians so feared had taken the heads of both their beloved princes.

  Kian let out a roar that sounded like the great cats K’xarr had heard in the mountains of his homeland. A chill went up the young general’s spine. K’xarr knew no human throat could make that sound.

  Kian hurled both heads off the wall to land at the feet of their father. The great King Havalon began to tremble and fell to his knees, a loud cry of a brokenhearted old man wrenched from his throat. It rang out over the hushed battlefield. The king collapsed into the mud, rocking back and forth as he cradled both his sons’ heads.

  Kian drew Malice and pointed the ominous blade at the Abberdonian army as if warning them that their princes would not be his last victims.

  K’xarr smiled and slapped Rufio on the back. “Now they truly have their monster, and by the gods, I have mine.”

  Kian dashed to the gatehouse. He found Cromwell and nine men left standing. The Toran had an arrow through the thick muscle near his neck and had several nasty cuts. “We held them, Kian, as I promised.”

  Kian looked at one of the surviving soldiers. “Take him to Rhys.”

  Cromwell stood up straighter. “I’m fine. I will stay.”

  Kian reached up and broke the head from the arrow and pulled it out of his friend’s meaty neck. “You have done enough; go get some stitches. I will hold here.”

  Cromwell reluctantly nodded. It was easy to see he was weary. He looked at the inhuman swordsman through heavy-lidded eyes. “They are afraid now, Kian. You have put dread in their hearts and terror in their minds. The A
bberdonians will be reluctant to come at us again, and you took what their king prized most of all. You have stilled his heart as surely as if you had put a blade through it.” He patted Kian on the shoulder and followed the soldier to the abbey.

  Kian stepped out of the gatehouse in full view of the Abberdonians, but none dared attack.

  The Abberdonians had gathered up their broken king and fallen princes, and headed back to the city proper. They were finished for this day. He had shaken the Abberdonian’s nerve. The outcast half-breed had given the Abberdonians a banquet and served them sorrow and despair. They would not soon forget what had happened here today.

  The rain began to fall hard again. The bloody swordsman walked out into the downpour and tried to let it wash him clean.

  The queen sat in an uncomfortable chair much too large for her. The quarters she had chosen to make her own during her stay at Castle Blackthorn were as dreadful as Duke Blackthorn himself. Raygan hummed as she rocked the young prince. The baby sleepily smiled up at her.

  The sun had gone down, but the rain still fell. Winter was at an end, she thought. Spring had arrived, and it would be nice to be in Turill and sit beneath the trees of her garden with Corwin and watch the birds. She had begun to believe that returning to Turill was just a dream. It was a wonderful one, though. Much better than awful reality she had to face.

  “Majesty, did you hear what I just told you?” K’xarr asked.

  Raygan gazed out the window, not looking at her general. “I did. Kian cut the princes’ heads off and threw them at their father. Yes, General, I heard. It was a dreadful and ghastly act.”

  K’xarr walked around so she had to look at him. “That’s not exactly what I said, but you get the idea. Kian has bought us time and changed the course of this siege. Havalon has pulled all his troops back into the town.”

  The queen stroked her baby’s hair. Corwin was a prince too. How would she feel if she was in the King of Abberdon’s shoes? “He slaughtered two princes, General K’xarr. I had met them both, you know, they were young and of royal blood. I just wish there had been another way.”

  K’xarr turned her chair away from the window so it faced him. “Royal or not, they were our enemies, Majesty. They would have taken your kingdom, maybe your life and the life of the little prince there. Isn’t that what your precious nobles do when they take a kingdom, murder its former rulers?”

  The queen did not answer.

  “I don’t understand you, Majesty, not one damned bit.”

  The queen looked down. “You’re not royalty, K’xarr, you wouldn’t understand. There are ways things should be done.”

  K’xarr knew his anger was going to get the better of him, his head was ready to explode. The queen just did not understand what had been done this day and the price Kian had paid. It would be best if he left before he made her understand. “May I be dismissed, Highness?”

  Raygan nodded just as a knock came at the door of her room. “Enter,” she said.

  One of the guards K’xarr had assigned to her stepped in. “There is a man to see you, Highness. He said it’s of the upmost importance.”

  She motioned with her hand. “See him in.”

  K’xarr’s hand instinctively went to his sword hilt. The man came into the room. He was dressed in full plate armor, but not the kind for show or parades. It was fine steel, but dull and unpolished, true battle armor. The knight was wet and mud-splattered from the road. He knelt before the queen. “Majesty, I’m Sir Ivan Rusgule. I have a message for you.” He handed the queen a scroll tube, it too was wet from the rain.

  She pulled a piece of parchment out and quickly read it. She looked up at K’xarr. “It’s from Ansellus, the Asconans are two days away.”

  King Havalon had his sons placed on tables in his pavilion. He had bid his surgeon reattach the boys’ heads to their bodies. The physician had done the best he could, but he could see the gruesome stitches that held the princes’ heads in place. The king sat and stared at their cold pale faces.

  He had personally washed them and combed their hair, just like when they were children. Then he covered each one with an Abberdonian flag. The war meant nothing to him now, Abberdon meant nothing. The future of his kingdom was gone. The world was empty without his sons. The monster had been right. Even if he defeated the Bandarans now, it would be an empty victory. The devil half-breed had cut out his soul when he took his boys’ lives. Only death could take the pain away now. In the flickering torch light, the king put his face in his hands and wept.

  “Brigitte, get down, please, dear, I don’t want you to fall.” Endra looked at Rhys for help. The surgeon only shrugged.

  Kian walked through the curtain that separated his daughter’s room from the rest of the abbey. The baby had climbed on top of a cabinet Rhys was using to store supplies.

  “Is that what you named her?” Kian asked.

  Endra turned around. She wore a simple gown, her hair was down, and her eyes were bright. She smiled at him and he felt some of his guilt ease. He had done what he had to do, but he still felt shame. The animal inside had gotten the better of him.

  “Yes, it was my mother’s name. I hope it's okay.”

  “It is a fine name.” Kian looked at the little girl on top of the cabinet. She sat looking at her mother, dangling one leg over the edge of the cabinet. There was no fear in her eyes. In fact, she seemed content. “What happened to all her body hair?” he asked.

  “It just fell out,” Rhys said. “I think it was a natural thing for her, like a child’s umbilical cord falling off. I don’t believe the hair will grow back, but then again when it comes to your daughter, what do I really know?”

  Kian walked over to the cabinet and Brigitte jumped down into his arms. Endra gasped and Rhys chuckled.

  “She seems to know her father. We’ve been trying to get her down from there for an hour,” the healer said.

  Endra frowned. “Does she not like me?” The child began to purr softly in Kian’s arms and his heart lightened for the first time in a long while. “I’m sure she loves you. We played while you slept; perhaps she wishes to do so again?”

  Endra stood beside him and stroked the little girl’s long, soft hair. “I think she is her father’s daughter.”

  Rhys came closer and stared at the fascinating child. “That may be true in more ways than one. I do know she is much more advanced than a human child, and not just physically. I believe she understands some of what is being said around her in a very rudimentary way. This may be all due to the magic that was cast on Kian, or perhaps the combination of Endra’s unnatural blood and the sorcery used by your brother. There is just no way to know. Either way, your daughter is healthy and beautiful, as well as being quite unique.”

  Kian held her above his head, making the child smile. “You are safe, little one. The Abberdonians will not hurt you now.”

  Endra looked at Rhys, then back at Kian. “What did you do?”

  Kian handed the little girl to Endra and she wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and closed her eyes. “I protected my family.”

  Endra’s heart swelled at the sound of that. Kian felt that she and her children were his. She didn’t care what he had done. He did it to protect them, that’s all that really mattered. She fell into his arms, and he held her as he watched his new daughter sleep in her mother’s arms.

  After Kian had left, Rhys watched Endra with the child. They seemed content and he hated to dampen the moment, but it had to be done. “Endra, I have checked Brigitte’s blood.”

  “Is it…like mine?”

  “It is. I think the condition is passed on through birth, just like with your other children. I am still doing some tests, but I don’t think the black blood is harmful in any way. It may even be beneficial.” Endra sighed and looked at her little girl. The color of blood didn’t matter to her. Brigitte was her daughter and she loved her, if the fates wanted to tie her children to her through their blood, then so be it.

&n
bsp; Two days later, K’xarr and the queen watched from the walls as fifty thousand Asconan knights rode towards Braxton Bluff. It was the only knight order on the middle continent that didn’t serve the Church.

  Ascona was a military state led by a Knight Grand Master. Their current leader was a knight by the name of Eldon Cross, an old friend of Ansellus’s.

  “I don’t understand why that fool Havalon isn’t falling back or trying to turn and fight. He had to have reports that the Asconans were coming,” K’xarr said.

  “He just lost two sons, General. I don’t think he cares.”

  K’xarr looked at the somber Abberdonian camp. “He will care, Majesty. I can promise you that.”

  The queen received Ansellus in what Duke Blackthorn used as his council chamber. It was much smaller than the council room in her palace, but it would do. She smiled at Ansellus as he came into the room. The general gave her one in return. The Bandaran General was not alone; he had the Grand Master of Ascona with him. The leader of the Asconan knights was well over six feet tall and his hair was more grey than black. He was older, but still looked strong enough to brain an ox.

  He was dressed in the same armor as the man who delivered the message. Battle armor is what K’xarr had called it. Whatever the name, it was not very attractive. The only difference from the other knight’s attire was the grand master wore a gold chain around his neck. It bore the symbol of the Asconan knights, a horse’s head over crossed lances.

  Ansellus cleared his throat. “Majesty, let me present Grand Master Eldon Cross.”

  The knight gave a slight bow to Raygan.

  “I didn’t expect you to come in person, Grand Master Cross.”

  “Majesty, I never miss a good fight and King Havalon and I are not friends. I have met him on two occasions and I didn’t like him either time, and please call me Eldon, Majesty.”