The Third Sun (Daughter of the Phoenix Book One)

by Victoria J. Price

  “She’s awake,” a woman cried out from amongst the trees. Where before there had been the doorway, now stood an arch of trees with a corridor of evergreens beyond it. Through the archway came more rabbits, scurrying about in confusion.

  She didn’t hesitate. Fia darted past into the corridor now lined with trees. As she ran, three rabbits glowed like the embers of a fire, and she knew they were the Makya.

  She ran as fast as she could through the fake forest until the illusion faded, and she was no longer on four feet but two. Behind her were the screams and cries of a fight, and at that moment, she was more afraid for Noor than herself.

  A single door remained open in the corridor, and Fia could hear voices inside. She checked no one had followed her before standing beside the door to listen. In the reflection of the metal, two figures stood opposite each other, glowing like embers as they talked.

  “Once we have located Alythia, we will use the airship to destroy it,” the taller one said. “Or better yet, take it for our own.”

  “But the angels’ lands are not fixed, brother. You know that we will never be able to locate them,” the second replied.

  “The witch will tell us.”

  A loud scream reverberated through the corridor. Fia didn’t wait for any reaction. She launched back into a run, as fast as her legs could move towards the loading bay.

  There. The levers Noor had mentioned. Gasping for breath, she ran to the largest one, throwing her body weight onto it as she pulled it down to open the hatch to the bay. She spiralled around. She could see the flying pods now, behind where the transporter pods were hanging. They were like tiny wooden helicopters, with blades like a maple seed.

  Three of the Aurelli creatures stood guard beside them, alert at once upon Fia’s arrival. The first she knocked to the floor with a swiping kick, the second she grabbed, and threw it into the third. It only stunned them, but it gave her the few seconds she needed.

  With just a moment’s thought for how fragile the flying pods could be, Fia ran over to the closest one and dived in. The inside was much like the transporter pods, except that the front was totally exposed. There was a control handle, which lifted in and out. A large lever sat to the right of it, and above that, a crank handle. It was stiff, but the little blades above her spluttered to life as Fia pushed down gently on the lever. Adrenaline coursed through her, and she willed the pod to do something. Anything, please.

  The three Aurelli stirred—she was running out of time. The pod scuffed and scraped along the loading bay floor as the first creature ran towards her. She pulled up on the control handle, and the pod lifted off the floor in bumps and starts towards the loading bay hatch. The Aurelli leapt towards her, but the pod spluttered up and down, and the creature missed, landing gracefully on the loading bay floor.

  Voices closed in behind her, so she cranked down again on the lever to gain speed, dipping out of the loading bay. She held her breath as the little pod plunged into the sky. The pod swayed in the undercurrent of the airship but she steadied it. Keep it together, Fia.

  Something small shot across the open part of the pod, and then another. Dread twisted in her stomach—they were arrows. She wasn’t safe yet. She heard shouting from above, and accompanying the arrows were small balls of fire. The Makya.

  Arrows filled the sky around her. One pierced through her arm, and a white-hot, searing pain travelled up to her shoulder as blood flowed, and an anguished cry escaped her. The little pod spun. Fia pulled back on the control handle as hard as she could but nothing happened. Her arm throbbed where the arrow hung from it, more blood flowing from the wound than she’d ever seen. Something hit the side of the pod, and it lurched left and right. It was being drawn back into the airship. Fia put her full weight on the lever to try and break free, and the pod lunged forwards, throwing her through the opening and into the sky.

  She grabbed the control as tightly as she could with both hands and tried to pull herself back inside with all her strength. The pain in her arm was blinding, and blood was running over her hand and down her arm. It was impossible to hold on. Arrows and balls of flame barely missed her on either side of the pod. She couldn’t do it. Her good arm was already tired. She looked down and saw the tiny tops of the trees in the forest below.

  Something hit the side of the pod, big and dark, but she couldn’t make it out. The seed pod had shattered, and she was falling, and she knew this was it. She’d cheated death twice, and now it had come for her.

  All the air escaped her lungs as she plummeted, but no sound came with it. Above her the airship hovered against an endless sea of blue sky and the remains of the seed pod, swaying at the end of the cable.

  Chapter Seven

  Alexander

  They’d had two choices: return to Alythia for backup and risk losing track of the airship, or find out where it was going. Alexander had decided to follow it. It would have been too dangerous for them to split up. If it were a Makya ship as he suspected, then he’d be a fool to pursue it alone whilst Malachai returned to gather soldiers.

  Together, they’d followed the ship for the rest of the day, flying amongst the clouds to avoid being seen. Alexander had only ever known of the Makya using airships. They were clunky, slow-moving metal contraptions with an unnatural number of wooden wings and an odour of fuel that polluted the air. How they even stayed airborne, Alexander couldn’t fathom.

  “It moves as though it’s unfinished,” Malachai said, his wings tinged amber, as the sun dipped low in the sky.

  There wasn’t time for this, but the Makya were too great a threat. A threat and a distraction, pulling them away from the bigger picture. No one seemed to have answers about their dying sun or what lay ahead, only stories and hearsay. It wasn’t enough. How long would their world be without sunlight? What certainty was there that the third sun would even ignite?

  If Fia was the girl, she could be the answer to everything. Guilt twisted in his stomach. She probably knew everything by now.

  Alexander stopped to rest near the tip of a tree, holding onto the trunk as Malachai joined him. The sunset pushed through the clouds, and the humming of engines grew louder.

  “Over there, a second airship.” Alexander motioned his bow towards it.

  Malachai adjusted his footing, releasing a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight.

  “We’ve had no reports of this. They must have launched within the last few days and from separate locations. What are they planning?” Alexander rubbed at his chin. It just didn’t make sense.

  “Shall I return for reinforcements, Sire?” Malachai asked. They swayed with the tree they rested upon, the canopy a blanket of lush green before them. The airships’ engines drowned out the sounds of birdsong and the wind, even though they were far away. Alexander considered his options. He and Malachai were stronger together, not that an attack would be an option. There was no doubting those airships were armed.

  “No, we stay together.” Even at this distance, the airship was the largest Alexander had ever seen. Wooden wings jutted out at different levels, several of them on each side in a haphazard arrangement. Panels of metal cladding ran up the sides, the newer pieces glistening as the sun broke free from the clouds. It appeared mostly dull and rusting, as if it had been made from scraps and parts of other machines. Likely stolen parts, all of it.

  The two ships approached each other, and a seed pod sputtered out from the smaller one. Beneath the hull of the largest airship, a door opened to grant the pod access.

  Another followed it and then three more.

  “Passengers or supplies?” Malachai asked.

  “Who can say? It could be the council but why?” Was war truly their intention? This was precisely why he’d agreed to accept leadership when his sister Mira had asked it of him. The thought of his two nieces waiting for their mother to come home or of Mira injured in a fight didn’t bear thinking about. She was strong and knew how to defend herself, but she had too much to lose, so he’d gladly
taken her place, despite the murmurs of opposition over his age.

  But sometimes those slithers of doubt from the elder angels seeped their way into his thoughts, and Alexander found himself second guessing his actions more often than he’d like. Whenever he doubted himself, he reached down into his memories, searching for any words of wisdom his father had imparted over the years. They’d never discussed this particular scenario—why would they? Communication with the Makya had been progressing well up until his father’s death, and Alexander hadn’t been able to bring himself to restart the process, or to risk sending an envoy to Nadar, not after what happened with his father.

  “They’re on the move. Let’s go. Up to cloud cover,” Alexander said, leaping from the tree.

  Alexander and Malachai kept their distance, soaring upwards to thick clouds where they’d be better camouflaged. Malachai’s wings were light like his own; that’s why they’d been paired together for training as boys. They’d been taught to seek cover where they could blend in, like the clouds, while their friends with darker wings had been taught to stay low to the canopy. At night, it was easier. They were nothing more than a shadow against the trees in the dark, but light still remained, and they presented too easy a target.

  He’d never imagined, as a child, that he would be concealing himself from the Makya. Stories of Makya attacks were from a time long before he was born, and it had taken until recent years for his father to make any progress towards an alliance with them. So when the attacks had started again after his father’s death, the elder angels didn’t seem surprised, but it didn’t sit right with Alexander. Par, the council leader, always struck him as fair and level-headed. This didn’t feel like her style.

  “They’re splitting up,” Alexander said from their vantage point, as the larger airship began to turn away from the small one. It was much faster than the smaller ship, and Alexander chastised himself for not having been closer. “Let’s follow.”

  They closed as much distance between themselves and the ship as they dared, close enough to see porthole windows dotted around the hull. As they approached, the loading bay opened, and another seed pod spluttered out of it. Arrows and fireballs shot at the pod.

  “Bows ready,” Alexander called out over the wind.

  A Makya leapt out after the pod with a towing anchor, the hook slamming its way into the wood, but the Makya lost hold and plummeted through the air.

  The pod swung and someone tumbled out of the front opening. No. Her auburn hair was unmistakable, like a red flag waving in the wind.

  “Fia,” Alexander cried. He didn’t look back for Malachai. Instead, he lunged towards her, watching helplessly as Fia lost her grip and fell from the pod.

  His stomach turned and twisted, and his breath caught in his throat. “No…” The word was carried away with the wind.

  This is your doing. You brought her here. Time had somehow stretched out between them. It was as if he was flying against a wave, and Fia was falling in double time.

  But just as she was about to hit the canopy, a great black bird swooped upwards from amongst the trees and caught her carefully on its back. A Shadow. It dove down as swiftly as it had arrived, and Alexander pursued it.

  The bird landed in a clearing, its enormous black wings, twice the size of his, flapped gently as it lowered itself.

  Alexander was quiet. This was the closest he’d ever been to a Shadow, though he’d tried many times as a boy to chase after them.

  Twigs snapped as Malachai landed behind him, and the Shadow’s head jerked to the sound. “What’s it doing?”

  The bird folded its wings under itself and rested like a robin in its nest, tucking low to the ground. Fia lay motionless across its back. Please wake up. Please wake up.

  “Waiting,” Alexander replied, approaching the bird with cautious steps.

  The Shadow’s eyes were onyx and as big as Alexander’s hands, and the bird twitched its head left and right as he approached. He saw himself in the glassy rounds, dropping his bow to the ground. A gesture. One he knew would be understood.

  Alexander stepped closer, scanning Fia for injuries. The bandage Altair had tied was still fastened around her head, and her arm and hands were covered in blood. Guilt washed over him once more. This is your doing.

  He lifted her carefully from the bird’s back and backed away slowly. If the Shadow was startled and took off from this position, its wings could knock him and Fia to the ground. But it remained still, its beady eyes never leaving him. Alexander felt as if he was being looked at for the first time. What do you see? Why intervene? This was not usual behaviour for a Shadow, far from it.

  Alexander allowed himself a moment to check if Fia was okay. Her lips parted, her breaths shallow, as her chest rose and fell. He’d left her behind on Earth because he cared for her…more than he should, more than his duties permitted.

  The bird let out a short squawk as it took to its feet, testing its wings for take-off. Alexander was barely clear, as the breeze from its ascent blew strands of hair across Fia’s face.

  And then the Shadow was gone, up through the canopy and away.

  Chapter Eight

  Fia

  “Fia? Can you hear me?”

  That voice. She knew that voice, deep and soothing.

  “Fia?”

  It was as if she was still falling through endless blue sky and white clouds, only it was warm. Perhaps this was what it was like when your spirit was free. Impossibly warm, with the voice of an angel surrounding you.

  “Fia. Wake up.”

  Something shook her. The warmth was being sucked away from the comforting cocoon around her, focusing entirely on her right arm. But it wasn’t just warmth, it was burning, searing heat.

  “Fia, listen to me, I know it’s painful, but I need you to stay awake,” the angelic voice said.

  She opened her heavy eyes, drowsy with pain, seeing a glimpse of feathers, white feathers, and then her eyes fell shut. So many feathers. The pain was sharp, coaxing her back to consciousness. Opening her eyes again, Fia was met with the crystalline blue of Alexander’s, concern etched across his brow. He didn’t look right. He wasn’t all white and glowing. He was dirty like he’d been in a fight.

  Crimson stained his wings in places and crusted in patches across his arms and chest. She reached a hand towards him, attempting to sit up, but nausea almost overtook her. “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s your blood.” Alexander steadied her as she lay down again and closed her eyes.

  “She can sleep, Sire. The wound has been cauterised and will stop infection from spreading. It will heal,” said a voice beside her.

  She was in too much pain to sleep, but at least with her eyes closed, the throbbing subsided a little.

  “Thank you, Malachai.” A hand brushed strands of hair from Fia’s eyes. The touch was gentle, but she kept her eyes closed to keep the nausea at bay.

  “I’ve never known a Shadow to intervene in this way, Sire. Did you see how close it flew to the ship?”

  Water bubbled and boiled and then splashed as heavy items were dropped into it. The aroma of burning wood filled Fia’s nostrils, along with the familiar scents of the forest.

  “Two airships. What do you think they’re doing?” Malachai asked. Water poured onto the ground nearby, and equipment clattered as he spoke.

  “I don’t know. It seems strange, even for the Makya,” Alexander replied.

  A hand brushed Fia’s cheek, but she dared not move. Don’t open your eyes. Don’t open your eyes.

  “I should not have left her.”

  “Sire, I will take her to the witches. She will be my priority before returning to Alythia.”

  The fire hissed and spat and Fia’s arm throbbed. Since Sophie died, there had been an endless stream of instances of feeling like a spare part, or like she was too much for people who didn’t want to be around so much heaviness. Even with Henry and his friends, on so many occasions, it was like she was just getting in the
way of their fun. An inconvenience, that’s what you are. She counted her breaths. She pictured Sophie’s face, smiling back at her until the panic subsided.

  “We will both go,” Alexander said. “It will be safer.”

  “No!” Fia’s eyes darted open and she sat up, too fast. Alexander caught her good arm as she swayed with blood rush and nausea.

  “You lost quite a bit of blood earlier. You need to move slowly.” Alexander searched her eyes with his. She avoided his gaze as her cheeks reddened. Her bandaged arm was throbbing, but she pushed herself up. Don’t let them know how much it hurts.

  “We can’t leave Noor up there,” Fia pleaded. “She saved me, created a diversion so I could escape. They know what she can do, and they’ll keep her unconscious, or worse. We just—we can’t leave her.”

  “Fia, we need to get you to the witches and back to Earth. It’s too dangerous for you in Ohinyan—lives are being lost. We need to get you home before it’s too late. You don’t belong here.” Alexander’s gaze was fixed on the fire, his expression unreadable.

  Fia opened her mouth to respond but no words followed. You don’t belong here echoed in her head, as she watched the embers of the fire turn from yellow to orange. His words stung more than they should have. What would he know about where I belong? I don’t even know where I belong.

  “This is Malachai,” Alexander said. “We were patrolling nearby when the Shadow caught you falling from the airship.” He shifted his weight as he spoke. “Together, we will take you to the witches, and we will find a way to return you to your own world.”

  “Thank you, for my arm.” Fia lifted it a little to test her strength. “What’s a Shadow?”

  “One of the oldest creatures in Ohinyan,” Alexander replied. “Great blackbirds, with wingspans twice as wide as ours.” He threw a stick into the fire, embers spitting onto the soil around it.