DAWN OF THE PHOENIX

by A. J. STRICKLER

  By the time Isabella approached the street where she had been told the healer lived, her feet were aching and she was tired of walking. It was late in the afternoon and well past lunchtime. She thought about turning back. She would just tell the princess that she couldn’t find a healer better than Selmac. Isabella then thought about how disappointed the princess would be, and that she wasn’t a very good liar anyway, so she decided to push on, feet throbbing and belly growling.

  The house was not hard to find, there was a line of perhaps twenty people coming out of a two-story shack on the corner.

  She asked a young boy with a bandaged hand at the back of the line, “Is this where the healer Rhys Morgan lives?”

  “Oh yes, Mother said he could fix my hand.”

  “What happened to it?”

  The boy frowned. “A dog bit one of my fingers off.”

  The handmaiden shook her head and looked at the length of the line. It was going to take a while if she stood in it, so Isabella tried to make her way up onto the porch where the line started. She thought if she told this healer Morgan that the princess was inquiring about him, she could skip the wait.

  As the girl made her way up, several men in the line stopped her. The handmaiden tried telling them she was there on the princess’s order, but they didn’t believe her. They laughed and told her to get to the back of the line. There was little choice but to wait.

  She caught a glimpse of the healer as he came out to greet his next patient. He was much younger than she thought, around Cain’s age she guessed. He was handsome. Isabella liked the way he wore his brown hair pulled back to show his kind face. The healer had a lean build, but what stood out the most were his pale blue eyes. The princess would like him. Even if his skills were not the best, her lady would like his looks. She decided this was the one.

  Isabella noticed while she waited that this surgeon seemed to take anything as payment: chickens, cheese, a goat. One man even brought him a stack of firewood. He would walk them out onto his porch, take whatever they gave, pat them on the back and wish them well. Isabella wondered if it was some kind of trick. No one was that kind, at least no one she had ever met.

  It was well after dark when she got her turn. The young healer came out on to the porch drying his hands with a rag. “What do you need, young lady?”

  Isabella nervously pulled her blonde hair behind her ears. “I need you to come with me to the palace, please.”

  The physician looked amused. “Why, is there someone sick?”

  Isabella could tell he didn’t believe her and was just going along. “My lady bid me to find her a healer and bring them to her.”

  “Really, well, who is your lady, ah...?”

  “My name is Isabella and I serve Princess Raygan Albana.”

  The young man tried not to smile. “I’m quite sure the princess has a royal healer to tend to her needs.”

  “She doesn’t like him,” the handmaiden said, yawning.

  “That’s quite the story, Isabella, but all you had to do was say you need my help and I would have come. There’s no need for the big story.”

  Isabella was too tired and hungry to argue with him. “Will you come with me then?”

  “Yes, let me get my things.” Rhys put on a clean shirt and his short jacket, then grabbed his bag of instruments and the small leather case that contained the herbs and ingredients he used in his medications. Isabella was waiting on the porch when he came out. With all the bags, he looked like he was going on a trip.

  “I am ready, lead on, Isabella. Is it your house we are going to then? Is one of your family members sick?”

  Isabella sighed. “I told you where we are going.”

  “Oh right, the palace.” Rhys chuckled.

  A while later as they walked through the gates of the palace, the guards nodded to Isabella and let her and the healer pass without question. Isabella looked out of the corner of her eye at her companion.

  “This is the palace, healer.”

  Rhys looked down at the girl, astonished. “Oh bloody hell.”

  Isabella watched the healer examine the princess. He was gentle and seemed to know what he was about. He had introduced himself to the princess, told her to lie still, and went right to work.

  When he finished, Rhys had pulled the chair from Raygan’s dressing table over near her bed and sat down. “Your injuries are severe, Highness. How did you get them, if I may ask?”

  “It was a riding accident a few days ago.”

  “Begging your pardon, Highness, but those injuries aren’t from any riding accident.”

  Raygan looked into his eyes, almost pleading. “It was a riding accident.”

  “Of course, Highness.”

  Rhys asked no more questions. The healer was not about to argue with royalty.

  “I can mix some herbs that will help with the healing and the pain.”

  “What about my face? When the swelling goes down, will it be like it was?”

  “The bones were broken in your nose and there was damage to your jaw. I don’t know that I can help your appearance, Highness.”

  Raygan kept herself from crying in front of the young healer, but the disappointment was all over her face.

  “Thank you, Healer Morgan. I was hoping there was something that could be done.”

  The healer just shook his head. Rhys could see the look of anguish on the young princess’s face. He had crushed her last hope.

  “I would like to retain you as my physician anyway, if you are willing.”

  “Of course, Highness, whatever you wish. I will plan to check on you tomorrow and bring the medication I talked about.”

  “You’re not from Bandara, are you, Healer Morgan?”

  “No, Highness, I’m from Tara.”

  “The Tyroian colony south of Greyland?” the princess said.

  The healer’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’ve heard of it, Highness?”

  “Oh yes, Bishop Lyfair has mentioned it in his sermons on many occasions, saying how the great faith of the Tarans has sustained them all these years against the dreaded black slayers of Larcasia, the savage Viborg, and the rest of the nasties of the Harsh Coast.”

  He nodded. “The Riders of the White help some too, Highness.”

  “Yes, the knight order in Tara. Lyfair has mentioned them as well. I think I will rest now. Thank you again, Healer Morgan.”

  “I prefer Rhys, Highness.”

  “Very well then, thank you, Rhys.”

  He patted Isabella as he passed her then stopped at the door. He wasn’t sure if what he was going to say next was a mistake, but he was going to take the chance. “I might be able to help you, Highness, with your face, that is.”

  Raygan painfully pushed herself back up in bed. “I thought there was nothing that could be done.” She could barely contain the excitement in her voice.

  “You have to understand I was trained by the Church, like all healers are. By their knowledge and traditions, there is nothing I can do. However, there are things I have learned that are not taught by the Church, things that are not even condoned by the Church. I didn’t know if you would even entertain the idea.”

  “I will try anything. I don’t care if the Church likes it or not.”

  “Then you will have to trust me, and we will have to keep it just between you, me, and Isabella of course,” he said, glancing at the girl.

  “You have my word, Rhys. I will do whatever it takes.”

  Isabella pulled at the healer’s sleeve. “You have my word too, Rhys.”

  He smiled at the girl and the princess. “Then I shall return tomorrow and see what I can do. I will make no promises, Highness, but I will do my best.”

  “It’s all I can ask. I will leave word at the gate so the guards will let you pass.”

  He nodded to them both and left.

  “Isabella, come here,” Raygan commanded.

  The girl walked over to her mistress’s bed. “Yes, my lady?”


  Even though the pain was great, Raygan put her arms around the girl and pulled her close. Isabella could feel the princess’s tears on her neck. “Thank you so much, Bella.”

  Isabella returned the hug as gently as she could. “Why are you thanking me, Highness?”

  The princess pushed the girl back and looked into her eyes. “For bringing me hope.”

  Rhys couldn’t sleep. He was taking a big risk using what he had learned from the old woman to help the princess. She said she didn’t care what the Church might say, but he did. It would be his neck on the block if anyone found out.

  The few times he had used his gift, people hadn’t understood its function and he had been forced to flee the town. He was most likely being a fool trying to use it on a noble, a princess at that, but there was just something about the young woman. He wanted to please her and he didn’t know why. The princess’s injuries were severe enough for him to tell if his skills had improved. It would be a good test. He had been practicing on animals when he could, but it was not like healing a human. Rhys tossed and turned for another hour. When sleep finally found him, he dreamed of the old woman and the cave.

  The next morning, Rhys arrived at the palace early and was let in without any trouble. Isabella met him at the main entrance and led him to the princess’s room. Raygan was waiting when they came in. She'd had Isabella put her in one of her favorite silk robes before she had gone to meet the healer.

  “Good morning, Highness.” Rhys reached into his pocket. “Here is the medicine I want you to take.”

  He set a large glass vial down on the ornate nightstand near her bed. “Take a spoonful in the morning and one before bed.”

  Isabella took the medicine from the nightstand. “It will be done just as you say, Rhys.”

  “I want you to lie back on the bed and just relax, Highness, while I prepare.”

  “Where is your bag? You have no instruments. How do you intend to fix my face?”

  “What I will do requires no instruments, Highness.”

  Raygan looked a little bit timid. “Will it hurt?”

  “No, Highness, there should be little or no pain,” Rhys said as he knelt down beside the bed. He closed his eyes. Raygan looked at Isabella, but the girl only shrugged.

  Raygan was nervous. She hoped this young healer wasn’t going to try some peculiar technique he learned from some savage on the Harsh Coast. He seemed much too intelligent for that, but one never knew.

  Rhys was still for a few minutes then he opened his eyes and touched the princess’s nose with two fingers. Isabella stood at the end of the bed, trying to get a better look.

  Raygan’s nose grew warm and felt like it had been stuffed full with mud. There was a brief snapping sound. The princess’s eyes watered, but there was no pain.

  Raygan saw Isabella’s eyes widen. “Bloody fucking sorcery,” the girl mouthed.

  Rhys gasped and removed his fingers from her nose.

  “Isabella, get a mirror quickly, girl.” Isabella was just staring at Rhys, not moving.

  “Bella, did you hear me? Get me the mirror,” Raygan said again. The girl handed the princess a mirror off the dressing table, her eyes never leaving the healer.

  The princess looked at her refection. Her smashed and crooked nose was straighter and the swelling had gone down a great deal. Some of the bruising was even gone. She was speechless.

  Isabella started looking around the room for something to hit the healer with. “He’s a damn foul wizard, my lady. We should call someone to burn him.”

  Rhys slowly got to his feet. “I’m not a wizard, Isabella.”

  “Yes, you are. I just saw you magic the princess’s nose.”

  “It wasn’t magic, it is something else. Something I learned as a boy.”

  “Isabella, calm down. I don’t care what it was, it worked,” Raygan said as she looked into the mirror.

  “I assure you both, it’s not magic. May I have a cup of water please, Isabella?”

  The girl folded her arms and stared at Rhys. “No.”

  “Isabella, don’t be that way. Get this wonderful man some water.”

  The girl reluctantly nodded and fetched a cup of water from the pitcher on the princess’s dresser.

  “How did you do it, Rhys? My nose, it’s so much better. It doesn’t even hurt.”

  “It’s a long story. I will tell you sometime, but I assure you it’s not magic. It’s more of a healing art, but now you understand why I have to keep this quiet. If the Church found out I was healing people like this, I would be burning at the stake before I ever got the chance to explain it.”

  “We will keep your secret. Won’t we, Bella.”

  Isabella pulled her hair behind her ears. “Yes, my lady. As long as it brings no harm to you or anyone else, I will remain silent.”

  “I give you my word, Isabella, I would never harm you or the princess, or anyone else for that matter.”

  The handmaiden took a deep breath. “You helped milady, for now I will believe you.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re satisfied, Bella,” Raygan said tartly. “When can you fix the rest of me, Rhys?”

  “I must rest a while, Highness. This kind of healing taxes me a great deal, and I have to be well rested to even attempt to perform the procedure.

  "If I could practice it more, it wouldn’t take so much out of me. In time, I hope to learn to use it more effectively.”

  Rhys looked at her nose. It was by no means fully healed, but he could see he was getting better at what he had been taught. “I will start on your jaw tomorrow and your ribs as well, if I can manage it. Given time, I should be able to heal everything and return your looks to their previous state.”

  “Splendid, Rhys, just splendid. I will see to it you’re paid handsomely for what you’re doing for me.”

  “Thank you, Highness, but just having someone who is brave enough to allow me to use my gift is payment enough. What you have done will help many of my patients in the future.”

  “That’s not enough. You saved me, Rhys, and I couldn’t have went through life looking like that. You are the answer to my prayers.”

  Rhys’s face turned red at all the praise. “Thank you, Highness. I have to go get some rest now so I can be ready for tomorrow’s treatment. Take the medicine I brought. It will take some time before you’re fully healed, and the medicine will help a great deal in between the treatments. Until tomorrow then, Your Highness.”

  “Until then, Rhys, rest well.” With that, the young man walked out the door, leaving Isabella with her reservations and Raygan looking into her mirror.

  Rhys was exhausted as he walked down the hall, and the young healer didn’t take much note of the older man he passed in the hall on his way out.

  Finn Selmac watched the young man slowly walk down the hall. The royal physician wondered who the man could be and what he was doing in the princess’s chambers.

  The night was dark. Kian stood with one hundred other men overlooking a village he didn’t even know the name of. Its name didn’t matter anymore anyway. The Birds of Prey were about to descend on the small hamlet and it would be gone. He had traveled all the way to Thieves Port only to wind up back in Trimenia. K’xarr had quickly found a mercenary company for them to join when they had arrived back on the middle continent. They had not been in the city of Janus more than an hour before he was a member of the Birds of Prey. A little over two weeks later, he’d found himself back in Trimenia.

  Captain Alonso Barbeau was walking down the line appraising his mercenaries. The big white plume he wore in his hat swung back and forth like the neck of a goose. Cromwell gave the man a look that told Kian he did not approve of the Celonian captain. There were few men the Toran did approve of, but he had a special dislike for Barbeau. Kian thought it might be because the man was a drunk and dressed like a fop.

  Kian couldn’t say he liked the captain much either. It didn’t matter though, the captain and his men had made it clear they hated
the half-elf and the whole elven race. The captain had said those with elven blood were worthless cowards, and half-elves were well known for their lack of intelligence.

  He had refused to take Kian on at first. If K’xarr and Cromwell hadn’t spoken for him, the Celonian captain would have turned him away without a second thought. The truth was Barbeau needed extra men for the attack on the rebel village and was taking on anyone that asked to join his company. So Kian had become one of the Birds of Prey for a quarter of what the other men were to be paid. He didn’t care about the coin. He was pleased that K’xarr and Cromwell had spoken well of him. That was worth more to him than any pay Barbeau could offer.

  The portly captain stopped in front of Kian as he came down the line, twisting his thin mustache and smiling. Kian could smell the wine on his breath.

  “I should have left you back with the horses, half-breed. You shouldn’t be out here with real fighting men.”

  This kind of treatment was nothing new for the half-elf, the captain had taunted and belittled him since he joined up.

  “You’re a poor excuse for a sell-sword as I have ever seen. Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight and one of those village rebels will gut you.”

  Kian stared at the captain but said nothing. The man hated him and he could do nothing about it. If he did, it would ruin things for Cromwell and K’xarr, so he held his tongue.

  “Cromwell, your friend is dim. I insult him and he just stands there like a pointed-eared simpleton. I heard these half-breeds were born thick-headed, but at least you would think a man could anger one. Is it possible to provoke one, Cromwell, or are they all that slow witted?”

  Cromwell leaned down close to the captain. “I don’t know about half-elves, Captain, but Torans anger easily.”

  Cromwell gazed at the captain. His deep set eyes and fierce Toran brow caused the Celonian to take an unbalanced step backwards. Barbeau gave Kian a look filled with disgust and moved on down the line. Kian grinned; he thought the big barbarian might be able to stop a charging boar with that gaze.

  “You should kill him one day, Kian, that is what he needs you to do.”