The Third Sun (Daughter of the Phoenix Book One)

by Victoria J. Price

  “Not yet,” Lorn replied with a grin, leaping to her feet to join her brothers before the urn.

  “The Council still believes you are the Fire Mother, Lorn. We must try to regain their favour,” Jerum spoke quietly and calmly, his ember-coloured eyes the only sign of his smouldering temper.

  “Their favour,” Lorn muttered, barely audible. She gazed into the fire again as she spoke, a wild smile stretching across her face. “We don’t need them,” she spat through clenched teeth. She was ablaze from head to foot, and Noor could feel the heat even from where she stood.

  “What use are nine other council members who cannot make a decision quickly enough. We must continue what we have started—without them,” Lorn finished.

  “You know we are stronger as twelve, Lorn. It just doesn’t make sense to continue without the council’s backing,” Raiaan interjected.

  “Doesn’t make sense? The council wants us to rule equally. Equally. I am the Fire Mother, my dear brothers. We are far more powerful than them. We don’t need them.” Lorn balled her hands into fists at her sides.

  Noor braced herself, ready to run if fire filled the room. It made sense for the council to want to reconcile. Lorn and her brothers were powerful.

  “Enough,” Jerum snapped. “Arrogant though she is, Raiaan, she is right. Despite our current predicament, we are far more powerful than the other council members and have far more to gain. They need us. We have them right where we want them. Call for the Aurelli. We will send the Council a message. And as for you being the great Fire Mother, we don’t know that to be true yet. There is some time until the sun dies, and we won’t know for sure until then.” Jerum’s calm, controlled tone returned.

  “But I know. I can feel it. I am more powerful as each day passes, as you’ve seen for yourself. Soon, we won’t need them at all, and this world will be ours. I alone will deliver the creatures and beings of Ohinyan into a new era. Without me, all will perish,” Lorn replied.

  Noor couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Without you? Don’t you mean with you? There won’t be anything left to deliver.

  “We shall see. But for now, it would do no harm to have the council on our side. Let them believe we are working together. They will be our puppets to serve us in our mission,” Jerum added.

  “Very well.” Lorn tapped her fingers on the dents in the urn she’d made moments before.

  “Did you have any luck with the Lady Noor? We’re running out of sky to search,” Jerum asked.

  “No. She wasn’t very…forthcoming. I think she’d rather die before telling us anything.”

  “Perhaps we will have to test that theory,” Jerum said, making his way towards the door. “We will prevail, dear sister. Until tomorrow, then,” he called out, raising a triumphant arm to the air as he left. The tails of his coat, and Raiaan, trailed behind him.

  Noor took her signal to leave. As the doors of the antechamber fell shut behind her, she heard the roar of flames and Lorn’s angry cries and pictured the silk banners falling to the ground in ashes.

  Time to go. She made her way back to her cell, slipping back into her body the moment she laid eyes upon it.

  Noor blinked. Her own eyes. Her own blistering hands, still in shackles. The Aurelli on the other side of the bars appeared none the wiser, and beside it stood two more little guards. Let’s hope this works as well as the last plan.

  She sang to herself, soft, sweet notes, a song of longing drawing the Aurelli outside to the bars of her cell. As they watched, the ship around them changed into their beloved forest. The scents of cinnamon and jasmine, damp moss, and pine needles beneath their feet. Families with children ran and laughed and played a game through the trees. The three guards looked at the Lady Noor as she watched them, waiting patiently for a response. It had been a while since she’d tried to communicate through an illusion.

  The guards nodded. Altogether, they watched the families and children running, their laughter turning to cries of terror, as they continued up and across a small brook, down over a bank, into a wall of flames. The forest darkened, blackened by the fire. The smells and the sounds were gone, and all that remained was the smouldering ruins of the forest floor.

  Noor nodded and the illusion disappeared. “Thank you, I understand now.”

  The Makya were threatening the Aurelli, and they were powerless to refuse them. An army created from fear. Noor slumped against her chains, reaching for her circlet.

  The two Aurelli watched her through the bars, and a silent communication passed between them, until one walked away from the cell and out of sight. Several seconds later, the door to the cell fell open, and the little Aurelli approached Noor, wide eyed and wary before dropping a skin full of water and a scrap of bread at her feet. Climbing over her shoulders, it unlocked the cuffs tethering Noor to the wall. She thudded to the floor, reaching for her circlet, and then placed it firmly back on her head before rubbing her wrists.

  “Thank you,” she said to the Aurelli, holding a hand gently on its shoulder. It turned to leave and locked the cell door behind it.

  She ate the bread and drank the water in haste, saving a little of each for later. From amongst her layers of clothes, she took out a wrap of waxy leaf, inside of which was an oily balm. She rubbed it on her wounds and her broken, aching ribs. She would recover.

  The sound of heavy boots echoed through the corridor outside. Noor carefully disguised the unlocked chains around her wrists, hanging as limply as she could from the cell wall.

  “Greetings, witch.”

  Noor could see her reflection in the buttons of Jerum’s coat, her damp, matted hair hanging in thick clumps across her face.

  “Ah, one of the evil twins. Jerum, I gather, by your perfect gait,” Noor spat through strands of hair. “And where is your brother today?”

  “Close by, luckily for you.” Jerum stooped down, close to Noor’s head, close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from him, even though he wielded no flames. “But we’re not here to chat about him, are we?” The embers in his eyes blazed, but he maintained his calm, quiet tone. “Tell me how to get to the angels’ home and I will spare you.”

  “I already told you and your delightful younger sister. I do not know,” Noor replied, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

  “Lies,” Jerum spat at her as he spoke, a circle of flames encompassing them both before diminishing. “Tell me how to find them, and I will make this very quick.”

  “I simply cannot tell you that which I do not know.”

  Noor didn’t rise to his goading, and instead watched Jerum’s leather boots, waiting patiently for the moment he would turn his back on her as he paced around the cell. She’d gathered as much information as she was going to get from being their prisoner. Wait for it.

  “How did you get the Aurelli to help you? It is said that they communicate with no one.”

  “Ah, strange little creatures, aren’t they?” Jerum laughed. “It seems they quite understand the notion, ‘actions speak louder than words.’ Our demonstrations were quite effective. Enough deflection. Tell me what I need to know.”

  Noor shook her head. She didn’t have to wait long for her chance.

  “Then you leave me no choice.” Jerum turned his back to her, his arms held high above his head.

  Noor sprang to her feet, pushing away the cuffs and filling the room with the image of a hundred blazing, burning Makya, arguing and fighting with each other. When she looked at her wrists again, they were blazing, too. Amongst the pushing and the commotion, she escaped unseen from the cell, outside of which she found her weapons resting against the metal wall. She smiled. A gift from the Aurelli, perhaps. Scooping them up in one movement, she ran, assessing the Makya’s plans. Lorn and her brothers were part of the council, but why hadn’t the other council members joined them?

  There was shouting up ahead, and her illusion changed. The corridor appeared empty, as the Makya guard ran right past her towards the commotion in her cell.
She paused for a few seconds before conjuring an image of herself as a Makya, slowly patrolling the ship. She knew she wouldn’t be able to maintain the illusion for long with her injuries, but it was her only chance to escape unnoticed.

  The entrance to the loading bay was guarded by two Makya and several Aurelli. Walking around the perimeter of the bay, pretending to check the equipment as she went, she found her opportunity.

  Noor jumped, unseen into one of the pods above her, anchored in the loading bay. She needed all her strength and concentration for her next trick. She conjured a husk, a physical manifestation of whatever form she chose, in this instance a Makya guard. A risky move, because it had to remain near her in order for her to maintain it, and she was unprotected whilst she worked. Her Makya appeared below her in the space she’d occupied, scrabbling around on the loading bay floor, tripping over levers and cables, and activating the loading bay door. Now she had the attention of the Makya on guard.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” one called out to her flaming husk, as it fumbled around with one of the pods. It laughed and transformed into a husk of herself, tall and elegant, before curling itself into the pod, and flying out of the loading bay door. The Makya and the Aurelli ran after it, firing arrows and balls of flames at her disappearing silhouette.

  The real Lady Noor, who sat high above the loading bay, watched the scene unfold below her and was grateful for the sight of the pod, tumbling and falling away from the airship.

  I can’t keep this going any longer. As the commotion continued and her husk dispersed, she lay still and quiet, exhausted. Lorn’s voice echoed through the corridor as the loading bay doors clicked shut.

  “What do you mean, she escaped?” Lorn screamed, flames roaring from her, shadows flickering against the loading bay wall. “Which one of you is going to tell my brothers?”

  Noor closed her eyes, the faintest line of a smile on her lips. She could rest for now, undiscovered, regaining her strength, and then she was going to find out what Lorn and her brothers were doing up here, above the clouds of Ohinyan.

  Chapter Eleven

  Fia

  Fia followed Alexander and Malachai through the charred remains of the city. They passed by narrow streets lined with tall, burnt-out buildings, and the crumbling remains of a house, its wrought iron door twisted and contorted from heat. Even the trees lining the streets were bare and lifeless, like blackened skeletons amongst the ruins. There was no colour left here. Some of the buildings reminded Fia of the old Victorian houses in London, others had ornate windows and circular doors. Plumes of thick grey smoke escaped from some of the structures, and the scent of the burning city filled her nostrils.

  Her foot kicked against something metal—the remains of a sign—and she picked it up to examine it. Swirling, illegible letters surrounded a black circle and flaked away as she ran her fingers across them. She dropped it to the ground, the heavy clunk echoing off the walls of the burnt-out buildings.

  Malachai and Alexander were cautious, bows drawn, turning about themselves as they examined piles of rubble and the debris-ridden spaces between brick buildings. The sun had disappeared over the horizon, and the dim light remaining cast eerie shadows across the wreckage.

  Fia folded her arms across her chest. Tap tap. She spun around. The sound resonated from within a burnt-out vehicle. It had wheels, at least, and a contorted metal chassis. Tap tap. She glanced over her shoulder. Alexander and Malachai were up ahead, unaware that she’d stopped to investigate. Slowly and quietly she approached, stopping when she was right beside the vehicle. She heard nothing.

  It was mostly metal, now blackened from fire, with large rivets to hold the panels in place, just like the airship. Fia dropped to her knees, placing her ear against the cold metal. She looked back to see that Alexander had inclined his head towards the sound, and she held a finger to her mouth to silence him. Tap tap. She peered cautiously into the shadowy recess, and there, looking out from the darkness, was a small pair of eyes staring back at her.

  “Hello,” Fia said softly. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and in the light she could make out the face of a little girl, clutching a charred doll to her chest.

  “Hi,” the girl replied, waving her doll as she spoke. Tap tap. Its clothes and face were ruined, and in place of arms, it had two wooden pegs.

  “She’s pretty. What’s her name?” Fia asked.

  “Dot. She’s Dot and I’m Tully,” the girl replied and flicked her chin at them.

  “I’m Fia. Can you come out here Tully, so we can talk with my friends?”

  Tully poked her nose through a window frame and looked Alexander and Malachai up and down before making her decision. After a multitude of creaks and clangs from the vehicle’s interior, a round door fell open with a heavy clunk on the ground beside them. Tully crawled out, Dot tucked under her arm, and eyed Alexander and Malachai with a look of suspicion.

  “Where are your parents, Tully?” Alexander asked.

  Tully stared at the arrow poised at the end of Alexander’s bow. “Gone. Only me and my brothers now.”

  Fia pushed gently at Alexander’s bow, her hand steady, until he withdrew.

  “Not everything is as it appears in Ohinyan,” he said, searching for signs of anyone else nearby.

  Fia turned her attention back to the little girl. “Where are your brothers, Tully, are there any grown-ups?”

  Tully nodded. “There’s some. I can take you.” Clasping Fia’s hand, she led them quickly through dark streets, turning left and right through narrow passageways and across wide, open courtyards. They turned another corner into an open square, flickering shadows dancing on the walls of the buildings.

  “Here it is,” Tully said triumphantly, dropping Fia’s hand and running over to two boys sitting beside a fire. They shared some bread with her as she joined them.

  Fia walked ahead of the two angels, further into the square, aware of faces staring back at her from the shadows. They were mostly children, but not all human; a child with a lizard’s tail and webbed hands laughed and chased another, whose features were like the Aurelli.

  An old man approached them. He used a stick to steady himself with each step, moving every joint slowly as he walked. Fia could see no creature-like features in him; he was just a regular old man with two hands and two feet. He eyed the group one by one, twisting strands of his short, grey beard in between two fingers.

  “You’re too late, angels. The city was razed six days ago.” The old man looked at Fia’s feet as he spoke, staring at her trainers.

  “I’m Alexander, and this is Malachai, one of my officers. This is our friend, Fia. Are you all that’s left in the city?”

  The man walked slowly around Fia, dragging his stick with him. Close up, it was easier to see he wasn’t short but rather bent with old age, his heavy grey coat disguising his posture. He twisted his beard again, before standing still in front of them. “Jonas,” he said, patting a hand on his chest. “We’re it. The rest either burnt or left.” He fumbled around in his pocket for a moment, before removing a clay pipe, but didn’t put it in his mouth. “There were three of your kind here, and though they helped us during the blaze, we lost them with the others.” He fumbled around in his pocket again, removing a leaf, which he crumbled into the end of the pipe before resting it in the corner of his mouth.

  “Three angels?” Alexander asked, stepping forwards, a frown creasing his brow.

  “It seems we have a lot of information for each other. I can show you their remains tomorrow if you wish, but for tonight, I can offer you our house.” Jonas turned away from them, holding his hands up towards the largest building in the centre of the square. In the flickering firelight, its exterior was blackened like the rest of the city, but the structure remained undamaged, unlike its neighbours.

  They followed Jonas inside, through a dark hallway deep into the house.

  “Those who are left live here now. This house has been in my family for generations, and the
re’s plenty of space for the few who remain.” Jonas glanced around. Here and there flickering lamps lit up small areas, so they could distinguish between doorways and open spaces. They reached a large, sweeping staircase, at the bottom of which was another flickering oil lamp. “We’re on power from the generator. Doesn’t reach upstairs I’m afraid, folks.”

  Jonas led them up the grand staircase into a series of interconnecting rooms, scattered with objects. It was a slow process; Jonas’s movements were stiff and tired. Beyond the rubble of furniture and the newspapers strewn across the floor, he led them into a room. He lit lamps as they went before kindling the large fireplace in the centre.

  “You can use this space as you please. Take anything you need, we share everything here, clothes, provisions, and there’s clean water and soap. We can talk in the morning,” Jonas said finally, once the fire was lit. He looked once more at Fia’s dirty trainers. “There’s piles of my youngest daughter’s clothes around here somewhere. You can help yourself to them and anything else you might need. Goodnight.”

  Fia took one of the oil lamps off the wall and wandered through the rooms, holding the lamp above her head, so she could see better. She stopped in what looked like a library. In some places, the furniture was piled so high it was impossible to see through the chairs and the desks, but there were books from ceiling to floor. Some of them lay scattered across the floor with the newspapers and the rubbish.

  Alexander and Malachai’s voices carried from the main room, but only the occasional word was loud enough for her to hear clearly.

  “The Sacrifices of Man,” Fia read aloud, bending down to pick up a torn cover with delicate, swirling letters. Inside were beautifully drawn pictures of men fighting with beasts, of the angels and the Makya. She placed it down on a table overflowing with books and junk.