DAWN OF THE PHOENIX

by A. J. STRICKLER

  “That’s a good lad. Now it’s time for this old man to get some rest.”

  “Good night, Father. Make sure to get plenty of rest, we don’t need you taking ill.”

  The old lord smiled at his son and slowly made his way down the hall. Talorn closed the door. Good thing that his father said something about Bishop Lyfair. It reminded him he had not said his evening prayers.

  William Blackthorn stood in his room, looking out the window clad only in a robe. He had left it open. The night breeze felt good on his skin. He hated lying to his son, though what he hated more was playing the sickly old man, but he could not lose his best cat’s-paw. Talorn was the key to it all. If he didn’t play the sickly old lord with Talorn, his son might suspect his true agenda, and he was lucky no one else had. Talorn’s love of the Church and his love for his ailing father would be the easiest way to control him. The boy took too much after his late mother. William had not thought of her in years. It was a wonder that he got along so well with his son, having the same temperament as her. His relationship with the woman had turned foul when Talorn was a very small boy. Blackthorn had strangled his wife to death on her birthday. Of course no one knew the truth; the story had been that Lady Blackthorn had hung herself, and no one had ever questioned the lord’s word on it.

  He heard a very light knock at his door. “Come in.”

  A young girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, came in. She was dressed in a simple robe and her hair was down, just as he had ordered. William could see she was scared. “Close the door, dear.”

  She obeyed.

  “Now lock it,” the lord said.

  The girl’s hand shook as she tried to lock the door, finally using two hands to make the lock snap shut. He stood before her with his robe open, his manhood hanging out. He looked at the girl, apprising her as if she were a horse he was thinking of buying. “You will do just fine, my dear. Take your robe off and climb into bed, then get on your hands and knees. I will be there in a moment.”

  The girl did as she was told. She began to softly weep as she crawled onto the bed. They always cried. The sound was something he enjoyed a great deal.

  “Save your tears, little one. You will need them later,” William said.

  He turned back to the window and took a deep breath. Tonight was going to be a good night after all.

  Kian and his brother Tavantis had come into the world on an old bed on the third floor of the Heavenly Hole, a brothel not a stone’s throw from Grey Harbor in the free city of Thieves Port.

  His mother had never told anyone how she had come to be in the foul city. The women of the brothel had found Kia one cold winter morning behind the whorehouse, starving and in labor. The courtesans of the house took pity on her and brought her inside, helping to birth her twin sons. After the twins were born, the courtesans told Kia she could stay if she wished and his mother accepted the offer. The fact that Kia was elven didn’t concern the women of the house. They knew all too well the pang of society’s cruelties and prejudices. Besides, they thought that Kia was the most beautiful woman that had ever graced Thieves Port. She was built athletic and slim like most women of the elven race, but her looks were dazzling. Hair like black velvet, eyes like emeralds. Kia’s face was so inhumanly flawless it could have been sculpted by the hand of a god. People were drawn to his mother and not just because of her beauty, it was her kind nature and soft heart as well. She had a gift for making people feel good about themselves when they were around her. A man once told him that his mother’s smile was so intoxicating it could make flowers bloom. Kian had no doubt of it.

  The ladies of the house taught Kia the only work they knew, so she could earn enough coin to feed her boys. His mother always said how lucky she was to have been found by so many sweet women.

  Some of his earliest memories were of the courtesans of the Hole. It was like having a house full of mothers, and Kian had grown to love each and every one of them. They too were smitten by Kia’s beautiful sons and had returned his affection tenfold. His mother was elven trash and her sons were abominations reviled by the world, but in that house, they were shown only love. The brothel had been a happy place for him as a child; inside it, he had known peace and acceptance.

  The breeze coming off the sea whipped his long hair across his face as he stood staring at the ruins of the brothel. The old building was empty and in very poor condition. It looked like it hadn’t been used in many years. Hot tears stung his eyes. Where had they all gone? His mother, Tavantis, all the courtesans—there was no one left.

  After leaving Julian in Phlosha, he had traveled to the Kingdom Nyronor where he took a ship from the city of Janus. Kian had found a captain whose ship had been caught in a storm and had lost some of his crew in the blow. His ship had taken some minor damage, and it needed fixing. The ship’s next port of call was Thieves Port. That was all Kian had cared about. He readily volunteered to work aboard the ship for his passage. After docking in Grey Harbor, he had left it and come straight to the brothel to find his mother. All he found was the old dilapidated house. Kian didn’t know if his mother and Tavantis were alive or dead.

  He spent most of the day asking up and down the harbor if anyone remembered them or knew what had become of them. He had found no one who could help him. He had been a fool. Forty years had passed. Had he thought that time stood still outside the Blue Dagger Mountains? His family might have left the city long ago; there was just no way to know for sure. He hadn’t been able to communicate with them over the years, and they never could have found him in the mountains without a map. They must have gone on with their lives. Perhaps they had thought he had done the same.

  He stood with his hands on his hips, looking out at the sea. The stench of the filthy harbor made him think of his childhood.

  He and Tavantis had played in the filthy water of Grey Harbor almost every day. Skipping rocks or trying to catch fish for their supper. They loved to watch the smugglers and pirates come in and out of the harbor with their big ships and listen to them boast of their exploits to the women along the docks. The free city of Thieves Port offered safe harbor to any who could pay the city for the sanctuary of its port. It was an open invitation to every raider and marauder that sailed the western sea.

  Kian’s brother Tavantis was his best friend, they done everything together. The twins had little choice when it came to friends, none of the other children of the city would play with them because they were half-breeds. Kian didn’t mind having Tavantis as his only friend, because most of the street children of Thieves Port were as treacherous as the city itself. He had seen children murder and steal no differently than their adult counterparts.

  The city was awful for anyone to live in, but it was a nightmare for the half-elven boys. By the age of seven, he and his brother had been beaten and robbed several times. Humiliation became a part of their everyday lives. Kian stopped going out to play. He could just never understand why the other children were mean to him when he tried so hard to be their friend.

  The beatings and insults did not stop his brother Tavantis; he was not as sensitive as Kian. His brother was very stubborn and refused to be controlled by the ugly city. Tavantis started sneaking out at night. He told Kian that it was easier to hide from people at night and that very interesting things happen in the dark. Tavantis had tried to get him to go out with him several times, but Kian hated the dark. He always had he preferred to stay inside and listen to all the stories the men told while they waited for the ladies of the house to service them. It was how he had met his first master.

  Kian’s stomach growled; he was getting hungry as he hadn’t eaten all day. The captain of the ship that had brought him across the sea had given him a few coppers because he had done a lot of extra work during the voyage over. He had worn a rag tied around his head to hide his elven blood during the fourteen days he had been at sea. He expected that he would not have gotten the extra coin or passage if the captain had known what he was. At least he hadn’t ret
urned home with his pockets empty.

  The gulls were everywhere, screaming with excitement; the fishermen of the city had finished cleaning the day’s catch and were dumping what remained of the haul along the beach. The birds would eat well this evening. Kian began searching the street himself, looking for a cheap place to fill his belly.

  He saw a building he remembered from his childhood. The One Eyed Eel was a small tavern that had served very good fish when he was a boy, his mother had taken him and his brother to eat there on a few rare occasions. He would get a meal and think on what he should do next.

  He pulled the hood up on the old cloak he had acquired after he left the ship. He had taken the worn out thing from a clothes line near the wharf. It wasn’t as heavy as the one Gildor had given him when he left the valley, but it would do. Kian entered the One Eyed Eel; it was not what he remembered at all. The inside of the tavern was filthy, stinking of urine and vomit. There were seven rickety tables and the bar itself was constructed of mismatched boards setting across two big barrels. The man who stood behind the makeshift bar was not much cleaner than the place itself. He was short, bald, and pudgy, with grimy hands and a horribly stained apron. His tiny eyes reminded Kian of a pig. The serving woman was no better. She was so dirty Kian could not even guess her age, and he noticed she walked with a bad limp.

  He sat down at one of the tables and waited. There were only three other men in the Eel and only one of them was conscious, and he was having a very intense discussion with himself. The other two were sprawled across the table dead drunk. The limping barmaid came to his table; she coughed hard and cleared her throat, then spit a chunk of phlegm the size of a gold coin onto the floor.

  “What do you want?” she asked in a very raspy voice.

  Kian looked up at her from under the hood of his cloak, trying not to show his disgust. “Fish, if you have it, or chicken would be fine.”

  She smiled at him, displaying the few teeth she had. “We got beer, ale, or wine. No food.”

  “I guess a mug of ale then,” Kian said.

  He thought he should at least have a drink before he got up and walked out. He didn’t want to give any offense. The barmaid limped away to get the ale. Kian left the hood of his cloak up just to be on the safe side, no sense courting trouble.

  The door to the little tavern burst open, and the biggest man Kian had ever seen came through the door followed by another man; both were armed. He released the grip he had on his sword. His hand had shot to the hilt of his weapon without him even realizing it. Both the men hurriedly sat down at the table nearest to Kian’s. The drunk that had been talking to himself looked up at the two newcomers, shook the other two men at his table awake, and all three made a stumbling but hasty exit.

  Kian took stock of both men. The giant man was well over six-feet tall. Unwashed long black hair hung in his face, covering most of his features. The only thing Kian could make out were his dark eyes. He was dressed in a short-sleeve leather jerkin, iron bracers on both wrists. He carried a huge two-handed sword on his back and what looked like a shortsword in a scabbard at his belt.

  The other man was tall but shorter than his huge companion by a several inches. Black hair and beard both cut short and his eyes were also very dark. He was dressed in a short-sleeve chainmail shirt that showed signs of rust in a few spots. His left arm was incased in mismatched plated armor that looked like it had come from a blacksmith’s scrap pile. He was armed with a longsword and dagger. What both had in common were they looked dangerous and they were out of breath. They looked at Kian but didn’t seem overly concerned by his presence. The lame barmaid brought Kian his ale. He watched as she gave the two men a fearful glance and hobbled over to their table.

  “Ale, you ugly gimp, can’t you see we are thirsty?” the giant yelled.

  The barmaid visibly trembled and hurried to get the men their ale. Pig eyes swiftly filled two tankards and sent her back to the table. As she was bringing the ale, the door to the tavern opened once again.

  Six city guardsmen came in dressed in conical helmets and chainmail, swords drawn. They too were winded and Kian could see the sweat on their brows.

  “Don’t any of you jackals move, we know it was you three that left the bodies in the alley next to the fishmonger's we saw you fleeing,” the leader of the guardsmen said.

  Kian looked from the guards to the two men at the table and then behind him. Did the guardsmen think he was with these two rogues? The two men were not disputing the idea that Kian had come in with them. Kian started to speak up and tell the guardsmen they were mistaken, and that he didn’t even know the two men. Before he could say anything, the short-haired man spoke first. “Your eyesight must not be too good, we have been sitting in here for a long while, just ask Chugg over there.”

  The barman nodded, his tiny eyes as wide as they could open.

  “Why would I believe that pig-faced thief? He’s nothing but a piece of wharf trash,” the guard said.

  “Because it’s the truth,” the short-haired man said. “Chugg has no reason to aid us. Hell, he doesn’t even like us, do you, Chugg?”

  The barman shook his head in confusion, not knowing what to say. Kian saw the short-haired man’s hand slide under the table as he spoke. “Chugg might be a pig-faced thief, but he’s not a liar, and if you don’t believe him, ask the wench,” he said, gesturing to the barmaid. “She’ll tell you the same thing.”

  “May I say something, sir?” Kian broke in.

  The guardsman spun towards him and pointed his finger. “You sit there and shut your mouth.”

  It was strange, one second the guard was pointing his finger in Kian’s face, and the next a table flew across the room and shattered against him, knocking the leader of the guardsmen to the floor.

  “Damn you, Cromwell,” the short-haired man said as he stood and drew his sword. The huge man had thrown their table at the leader of the city guardsmen, clearing the area in front of him and his companion. Kian jumped up from his table and tried to back away from the fight; this was none of his affair. He wanted no trouble with the guardsmen of Thieves Port, they were notorious for their loose interpretations of the laws of the free city.

  The short-haired man turned a blow away using his armored arm like a shield, then plunged his sword into a guardsman’s guts. He kicked another in the groin, doubling him over. The barmaid was screaming and doing her best to try and get out of the way when the giant man picked her up over his head and hurled her at the guards. They ducked. Kian heard her bones break when she hit the far wall of the tavern.

  He’d been in only one fight, and it had been fast and clean—never had he seen violence like this. The brutality of the two men was distressing. Kian had been trained to fight with skill and honor, not savagery and strength. Fighting these two men would be like fighting wild animals.

  Short-hair had cut the arm from another city guardsman. The giant pulled the shortsword from his belt and stabbed it into the top of the man’s head that had been kicked in the groin. He then jumped back and drew the two-handed sword from the scabbard on his back. One of the guardsmen turned to run but could not avoid the huge blade. It cut him in two just under the armpits. The top half of the dead man’s body careened over the bar to hit Chugg in the face, knocking him down into a pile of gore. The leader of the guardsman who had been hit by the table regained his feet. Rather than face the giant man, he charged Kian. Out of reflex, Kian drew his blade and parried the man’s attack and swept his blade across the leader’s throat. The guardsman grabbed at his neck, wide-eyed as he fell to the floor dead. When Kian looked back, the remaining two guards were down, one howling in pain and clutching a half-severed leg. The other one’s head had been cut in half. Short-hair stared down at the man screaming on the floor. “Cromwell, do something about that.”

  The giant walked over and stomped on the dying man’s head, crushing it like a melon. Then the big man walked across the room and retrieved his shortsword from his victim’s
head. He muttered some words to himself and put it almost reverently back into its scabbard.

  The tavern looked like a slaughterhouse. The floor was slick with blood even though some of it had drained through the cracks in the old floorboards. The walls and tables were splattered with the remains of six city guardsmen. Chugg kept whimpering as he tried to untangle himself from the dead man’s torso.

  Short-hair walked over and put two copper coins on the bar. “Sorry for the trouble, Chugg, this should cover it.”

  The tavern owner finally freed himself from the dead man. “Damn you, K’xarr, two coppers? That won’t cover your ale and you owe me a new barmaid; that big bastard killed her,” he said, pointing at the towering warrior.

  “She was slow anyway, Chugg. I think Cromwell did you a favor.” K’xarr laughed and walked out of the bar.

  The giant looked at Kian. “Better come with us, little man, or they will kill you when the rest of the watch comes.”

  Kian stepped over the crippled woman’s broken body as he followed the big man out. He really did not want to follow these men, but the one called Cromwell was right, more guardsmen would come. He had little choice but to flee with the two killers.

  It was dark when they left the tavern. That made it easy for the three men to get out of town—that and the fact no one had ever seen fit to build a wall around the free city. They traveled in silence for nearly two hours. Kian was not pleased with the company he was in, but he had killed a member of the city watch. It was best to get out of town for now. If the watch were still the same as when he was a child, he could return in a day or two if he was careful. The city guard’s pursuit and investigation didn’t last much longer than that. If he was caught before then, he would most likely be killed out of hand. The watch wasn’t big on trials.

  They finally stopped in a wooded area a few miles north of town. The one called K’xarr made a small fire in silence. Kian leaned against a tree and the other two men sat down near the fire; neither had spoken since they had left the city. He didn’t know what to make of these two men. He had learned many things from Gildor, but one could not teach another how to judge men. People were still something of a mystery to him. When it came to ascertaining a person’s nature, he was very naïve.