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

by A. J. STRICKLER

  Kian slowly drew Malice from it scabbard. “It feels like a long way.”

  K’xarr saw Cromwell shouting orders near the garden's short wall. A large section of the wall’s stones had been knocked over, making a large gap. “There you are, General. I… By the Gods of Blood and Fire, Kian, I thought you were dead.”

  “Not just yet,” the half-elf said. Kian walked past the two men and stood by the wall, surveying the lines of battle through the breach.

  “He looks bad, K’xarr, what’s he doing up here?”

  K’xarr looked at the big man. “I hope spreading a little fear. Stay with him and don’t let him get into the fighting. He’s just for show today, understand?”

  Cromwell smiled. “I see. I won’t let him get a scratch. Hey, the prince’s men are trying to burn the garden, there is pitch and oil everywhere. Watch where you stand.” K’xarr drew his sword and followed Cromwell into the garden. They were leading Kian to the front lines just as the first fires started.

  The battle went on through the night all over the city. There were small clashes in alleys and large fights in the streets. It was a bloody night for Turill. The heaviest fight was around the palace. The fire in the royal gardens had spread into the eastern side of the city. It made the fighting hot, but the men on both sides could see better because of the blaze’s shadowy glow. “Endra, take a break, let the men catch their breath. Cain’s men will make another go at us in a moment,” Rufio ordered.

  The woman pulled the helmet from her head and ran a hand through her thick hair. “We need to get to the palace. It’s where it looks like we would be of the most use.”

  Rufio looked at Endra, leaning on her sword, hair wet with sweat. She had given birth less than a month ago. Now the woman from Sorrack stood her ground here with him. “I know that is where it looks like we should be, Endra, but our orders are to stand fast here.” She was a beauty, and the woman had the makings of a good soldier. She had an eye for it. The Dragitan turned his head quickly to the north. He heard them coming before he saw them. A company of the prince’s Bandarans were coming out of the shadows. They looked to be a fresh group. “They mean to break through us. Hold the line, men,” Rufio commanded. The Asconans closed their ranks behind Endra and the Dragitan captain, and waited for the assault.

  Lord Bradford thought one more charge would do it. The king had ordered attacks on K’xarr’s forces in the south. Cain was throwing away a lot of men just so he could get at his sister, Bradford thought. The king didn’t understand that the Asconans didn’t give ground so easy. This time, however, he had a fresh company and he would lead the charge himself.

  He was not lacking in skill, his father had seen to that. The wealthy nobleman had sent his son to all the finest instructors in Bandara. Lord Bradford had enjoyed the training and had always fared well in the king’s tournaments. King Aaron himself had commended him on his actions during the border clashes with the Abberdonians. He was a man of action, unlike many of the other Bandaran nobles, and now he would show these upstarts what it was like when they faced a true Lord of Bandara.

  As they moved forward, Lord Bradford saw the leader of the company who blocked their way. The officer stood in front of his men, barking orders. The man wasn’t tall and he was dressed in armor of a Dragitan cavalryman. He would personally see to this Dragitan’s death. Without direction, the Asconans might not be so tough to break.

  Sweat dripped down Bradford’s face, it was hot inside his helmet and he dearly hated to sweat. Even as a child, he had never like to feel the wet drip down his face and body, making his clothing stick to him. No, he had never liked it. It was the heat from the fires. The act was just foolish, there was no reason for it other than Cain’s need to hurt his sister and to make him sweat.

  He signaled the charge. Bradford headed straight for the Dragitan Commander as he and his men surged forward. The shorter man did not see him coming. As the Dragitan turned, Bradford delivered a blow to the enemy captain’s head, knocking him to the ground. The man tried to rise, but the Bandaran lord kicked him back down. Bradford grinned inside his helmet as he spun his sword so he could thrust it through the Dragitan’s chest. Then Lord Bradford noticed something was amiss, his arm had fallen to the ground.

  He looked down at it, confused. It was his arm, alright; he could see his sword clutched in the hand. What had happened?

  When he looked up, he saw a female warrior, dark hair falling from beneath her helmet and a bloody sword in her hand. Did she do this to him?

  He felt his groin go wet. The Bandaran lord looked down; he had forgotten the Dragitan lying on the ground. The man had driven his short sword up between his legs.

  The lord staggered and screamed in pain. They were killing him, he thought as the woman’s sword took off one of his legs at the knee. He fell to the ground and couldn’t get up.

  Lord Bradford could not understand what was happening. His brain would not allow it. The woman reached down and ripped the helmet from his head. He blinked at her, still bewildered. He was cold now and had stopped sweating. That was good, he thought. The last thing he saw was the point of her sword coming down.

  Endra pulled Rufio to his feet. “Are you alright?” Blood ran down Rufio’s face. He took off his helmet and there was a nasty gash on his head. He turned the horse-hair crested helmet over in his hands reverently. Bradford’s great sword had sliced into the metal. “Thank the gods for Dragitan steel.”

  Endra looked at the battered helmet. “You need a new one.”

  Rufio strapped the helmet back on his head. “Not on your life.” Endra pulled her bastard sword from Lord Bradford’s face and the two reentered the fray.

  Kian propped himself against the garden wall. He had thrown up three times, but no one had seen him do it. He had followed K’xarr and Cromwell into the battle, and then drifted back as they had planned.

  Now he sat with his back against the wall, listening to the fight inside the garden. The struggle had gotten brutal, men screamed as they were forced into the raging fire that swept through the queen’s garden. Swords clashed on shields and he could hear the twang of the crossbows. K’xarr and the Asconans were outnumbered here, and the battle could easily go wrong for the young general.

  He looked at the sky, watching the smoke rise. With his vision, it looked like shadows floating across the night. He pulled Malice from its sheath. Kian stared at the strange steel. He could feel its lust for battle. It was evil, he knew it, and yet he did not rid himself of the hateful thing. What would Gildor think of him now? He stood and shook his dark hair back, stumbling towards the battle.

  Cromwell ripped his ax from the dead man on the ground and kicked the body. “How many of these bastards do we have to kill?”

  “All of them, I guess.” K’xarr looked out through the blazing garden. “Let’s try and cut the head from the snake. Follow me.”

  The Asconans standing nearby saw K’xarr and Cromwell begin to hack their way through the Bandaran’s line. They renewed their attack and followed the two men into the heart of the enemy. K’xarr quickly saw what he was after. He wore the fine armor of a Bandaran lord, and on his tabard was the crest of a fox tearing out a hound’s throat. “There he is, Cromwell, get me to him.”

  The huge man butted a soldier with his shoulder and his ax whistled down, shearing through another man’s collar bone into his chest. The hulking Toran began clearing a bloody path for K’xarr. In moments, the sullen-eyed barbarian had opened the way for his friend.

  “Kill that son of a whore, K’xarr,” Cromwell shouted as the general passed him. K’xarr smiled grimly and headed straight for the Bandaran lord.

  Tobias Fox saw the man rushing towards him. The lord’s two bodyguards launched themselves at the Camiran. K’xarr blocked both men’s attacks, then kicked the legs out from under one as his sword hammered into the other’s neck, half severing his head.

  Turning swiftly, the general rained down several blows on the man he had tripped until t
he bodyguard stopped moving.

  Tobias Fox dropped his sword and raised his hands. “I’m done with this madness. I yield to the queen’s mercy.”

  K’xarr smirked. “The queen is not here and I have no mercy.” K’xarr’s sword came down on top of Fox’s head, cutting through his helmet and into his scalp. The force of the blow shattered his skull. The Lord of the North fell to the ground. He twitched for a moment then laid still.

  K’xarr had little time to gloat. The line had closed behind them. He and Cromwell’s retreat had been cut off. The remaining Asconans that had followed them were caught with them as well.

  Their backs to a fire, K’xarr and Cromwell and a handful of knights faced a large company of Cain’s soldiers. “Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, Cromwell.”

  The Toran felt the edge of his ax. “Well, it was the best one you had today.”

  The Asconans that had not been cut off were doing all they could to cut their way to the general and their brother knights. The situation was desperate, but there were just too many of Cain’s Bandarans. That did not stop the knights from fiercely making the attempt to rescue their temporary commander.

  K’xarr saw the discipline of the Asconans. They were magnificent warriors, he thought. They fought for him like he was the grand master himself. He could not ask for better men, their courage was beyond question, as was their sense of duty. They just didn’t have the numbers.

  K’xarr cut down another Bandaran. He could see there was too many of the enemy to break free and the other knights in the garden couldn’t get to them. Their plight was as simple as it was hopeless—being pushed back into the inferno or die at the hands of the prince’s men. K’xarr decided he wasn’t going to burn.

  The Bandarans' assault began to break up. K’xarr noticed the men facing him looking over their shoulders. He could hear screams and panicked shouts from deep in their ranks. Someone had attacked the enemy’s flank hard enough to turn their attention.

  In moments, K’xarr could see what had happened. A fresh company of Asconans was cutting their way towards him. Cain’s men were parting like the Beast himself was after them. K’xarr saw that was not far from the truth. Kian was with the knights. They had formed a wedge with the swordsman at the front, and they were driving their way towards him.

  He and Cromwell did their work as well, coming at the Bandarans with renewed vigor. Within minutes, the reinforcing Asconans had broken though.

  K’xarr had them press the attack as more knights poured through the breach in the garden wall to join them.

  Kian stood next to them, gasping for air. The swordsman went down on his knees, laying Malice on the ground and trying to get his breath.

  “I thought I told you to stay out of the thick of things?” K’xarr scolded.

  “By the gods, I’m glad he didn’t listen,” Cromwell said.

  “I saw you were cut off. I was not going to stand by and watch you both die. Besides, I am starting to feel a little better.”

  K’xarr helped him to his feet. “You don’t look it.”

  K’xarr put Kian’s arm around his neck and helped him back towards the garden wall. Sir Ivan was standing at the wall, helmet off, his hair wet and armor bloody. “There you are, General. I hope the company I brought helped.”

  K’xarr put Kian against the wall and patted him on the shoulder. “It did, Sir Ivan. I think we are starting to drive Cain’s men away from the palace.”

  “Then we hold the whole south and east of Turill. I have gotten reports that Prince Cain is holding troops back somewhere. I suggest we regroup and do our best to find them,” Ivan offered.

  K’xarr and Sir Ivan spent the next hour recalling the Asconans and the remainder of the queen’s Bandarans just to the west of the palace. “K’xarr, look, isn’t that Rufio coming this way?” Cromwell asked.

  K’xarr watched as from the south Rufio and Endra came with what remained of their command.

  Rufio was bleeding from a head wound, but he looked like he would live. “You better go find Rhys and get some stitches before you bleed to death,” K’xarr joked.

  Rufio shook his head. “Can’t, Cain has gotten around us and is marching south. There aren’t many men between him and the southern gate. The men we left back to defend the queen will never be able to hold.”

  K’xarr seethed with anger. “We need to attack now. He means to take his sister. If he does, this is all for nothing.”

  Rufio looked out at the smoke-filled city. “I don’t think we can get to her in time. He leads the bulk of his army and we still have troops scattered throughout the city.”

  “General, we can attack with two thousand men now, it’s all we have here. It will at least slow them down,” Sir Ivan said.

  “It will take time to cut through their lines. Even if we start now, we won’t be able to get to Rhys and the queen before Cain does. How did that bastard get around us?”

  “His men know the city better than we do, General,” Sir Ivan said, tight-lipped.

  K’xarr threw his helmet on the ground. He should have left more men with the queen. He cursed himself for being so foolish and thinking that Cain couldn't outmaneuver him. He had wanted to put an end to the arrogant prince quickly. He thought he could defeat Cain’s army before the queen would ever be in any danger. He had gambled leaving so few men to protect her, and he had lost.

  “I will get to her.” Everyone looked across the street. Kian stood on top of a building, the fire from the city making him an eerie shadow.

  “Don’t be a fool,” K’xarr shouted.

  “I will try to keep her alive until you come.”

  The general watched as the half-elf began to leap across the rooftops of Turill. Endra screamed for him to come back, but he was gone into the smoke-filled night.

  “Damn you, Kian,” K’xarr said as he kicked his helmet out into the street.

  Raygan could hear them coming. Her face was tear streaked, she had been weeping for her burning city. Now Cain was coming for her. She didn’t care, she would face her death like a queen. It was Corwin she feared for. Raygan didn’t think Cain would spare her son. Her brother was mad, he would kill them both without hesitation.

  “Majesty, you should come into the gatehouse now. The knights will do their best,” Isabella advised. The girl pulled her hair behind her ears, then warily put her arm around Raygan’s shoulders. The little queen leaned against the younger girl and wiped her eyes.

  Two hundred knights ringed the southern gatehouse. She knew they would fight to the death, they were men of honor. She had also kept one hundred of her loyal Bandarans. They would be her last line of defense. They stood the ground just behind the Asconans.

  “I know they will do their best to defend me, Isabella. I cannot leave, but you should go, get a horse and ride out now.”

  “I will never leave you again, Majesty, I mean…Raygan.” The two young women embraced each other as the sound of the enemy grew closer.

  Cain’s soldiers didn’t even notice the half-elf as he passed above their heads; he moved silently, landing on the rooftops like a cat.

  Kian had only left the rooftops twice where the leaps would have been too far for him to make. He was far ahead of Cain’s soldiers now. They moved cautiously through the shadowy streets of Turill, fearful of an unseen attack. He would have plenty of time to get to the queen.

  If K’xarr and Endra thought he would stand by and let Rhys and the queen die, they were wrong. Better to die with them than live with that guilt. Rhys had done too much for him, and he had made a promise to protect the queen.

  What no one knew was death had ceased to be a fear of his. Sometimes he thought it might even be a blessing. He loved Endra and the children, and he could not ask for better friends than the ones he had, but he felt like he had become a burden to them. The things that had happened to him had changed his life. He was no longer the same warrior that had walked out of the Blue Dagger Mountains. Death surrounded him now, he could
feel its hot breath on his neck. The trouble was, it was not his death that followed him. It was the death that he would unleash on any who faced him.

  Tavantis had taken more than his heart, he had taken his humanity as well. Sometimes he felt like little more than an animal. He had become a predator, a killer. It was his nature now, his instinct. Kian knew he could not resist it forever. Someday it would come for him, and the man he was would cease to be.

  The gatehouse on the southern wall was in sight, not much farther now. He hopped to the next rooftop and slid to an abrupt halt.

  The woman in the black veil barred his way. “No, my minion, you can’t save the day this time. The queen must die and the fighting must continue until one of my choosing ascends the throne, a man that will honor the Old Gods and bring back the days of the sword and torch.”

  Malice slid from it scabbard without a sound. “Stand aside, Mistress. I do not need your permission to help them.”

  “You will do as I say, half-breed. You serve me, as does Malice. You and it belong to me.”

  “I belong to no one and I will never serve evil.” Kian threw the sword at her feet. “Take the bloodthirsty thing. I never asked for it and I don’t need it. And know this: I will never kneel to you.”

  “Then you must die, you are far too dangerous to be allowed to live and if you won’t serve me, I have no choice.” She raised her hands. Kian prepared himself, better dead than in the service of this evil woman, he thought.

  The black lightening arched from the Mistress’s hands and struck the swordsman in the chest, blowing him off the rooftop. The Mistress bent down and picked up the sword. “What a shame, it will be hard to find another with such skill.” She looked at the sword and it vanished from her hands to return to its true resting place.