The Phoenix Grail

by Helen Savore

  “Then why are we twenty-five kilometers away, tug-boating round the bay?” Jamie slapped the boat. “Are we going to sail up the river? Why can’t we walk?”

  “I could fly.” Adhomai waved. Him and Alexandrea took the sides, keeping their balance. He was not as careful as her, shifting, dipping his head over the side. Adhomai had summoned the craft, so he likely felt comfortable within its confines.

  Alexandrea frowned, and she shifted, maybe to counteract Adhomai’s movement. “Adhomai, if the difference is small, it might not exist higher in the atmosphere, so flight wouldn’t work. But we are a ways out. Was I wrong that Glastonbury is the modern site?” She gripped the side, her fingers leaving grooves in the wooden rim. “I know it is not precisely there. Moralynn, I trust you know the path.”

  Even Alexandrea was beginning to doubt her. Moralynn could not disagree, since she doubted herself in this moment.

  Jamie drummed his fingers on the boat’s rim. “How does one get to a place that isn’t precisely there?”

  “Avalon marks where Oberon first walked on the Earth.” She held up her thumb and forefinger. “It has become a little piece of the fae realms, on Earth. It serves as the Earth’s gateway to Oberon’s Tower.” She let her head sink. Her mind traveled to the red lacquered doors. She had not seen this side in centuries, had not been allowed to. Her true birthright, kept away. Perhaps it was not just because of who she had become. Were they preventing her from the Grail?

  Alexandrea’s hand rested atop her own. “How long has it been?”

  Moralynn politely tapped the hand, then extricated it. She could not draw comfort from her. She kept her eyes closed. “I made an attempt late in the 16th century.” Despite the rocking of the boat, the moisture in the air, and the sounds of the sea, Moralynn was no longer there. She was locked in a memory. With so many failing her, why did this one remain?

  Her body stretched. Grossly out of proportion. They tried to quarter her, but she would not tear. They staked her, pulling her limbs far apart. When that did not end her, they took their hammers and fell over her body, pounding her like a piece of raw meat. She had been broken, but the worst of it was the death that did not come. During the agonies she suffered at the hands of the Heralds when she came here last, she had given up. She shoved it all aside—the responsibilities, justice for her family, her skills and growth. She put it upon the altar of death.

  It did not accept her pleas.

  When she would not die, they tipped her masticated body into the ocean. It took her days to pull herself together, and she swore never again to attempt the isle.

  “Moralynn?”

  Her eyes twitched open. She did not remember closing them.

  Alexandrea’s eyes were wide, and her mouth turned into a frown. “Moralynn, what happened?”

  “The Heralds met me.” She took in a wide breath. “As they will meet us again.”

  “How do we deal with them?”

  Before Moralynn could answer, Jamie shifted into the base of the boat. “What’s a herald?”

  Adhomai’s hand twitched, and the rudder grip extended, effectively balancing Jamie’s movement.

  Moralynn nodded. “Heralds are Oberon’s personal priests.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad. Robes, hats, that type of thing?”

  The boat shook as three people quivered. “Priests to Oberon,” Alexandrea said as she shook her head. “The GodKing, the Great Smith, the Master Craftsman. Like nothing you’ve seen.”

  “Like nothing you have seen, either, Alexandrea.” Adhomai tilted his head in Moralynn’s direction. “She has though.”

  “So then—”

  Adhomai cut Jamie off. “Oberon is the Great Smith. He holds artisans and smiths mighty above all. Heralds are more like an honor guard. Only Smiths can wield hammers, and they wield them well. They will not be Shapers, but if they could not handle them, then they would not guard the red gates of Avalon.”

  “Moralynn,” Alexandrea said, inching closer. “What do we do?”

  She forced her head not to droop. “I do not know.”

  Alexandrea’s eyes glistened. “Mor—”

  “There are four of us. It is not a large guard. If even one of us can reach the tor…”

  Alexandrea filled in her silence. “That’s where you believe it is?”

  She wished she could be sure, but she was not.

  Flaming forge, Raebyn, why did he attack Alexandrea now? Though he hadn’t carried through on any threats, he still assaulted her. Why had he even attempted to sway her the Equinox Trials?

  “It is certainly past the shore.” In a singular, smooth motion, she swiveled and stood. Moralynn now looked beyond the prow. The red gates flashed once more in her mind. “If it is not there, then it might as well be in the Tower.”

  She regretted the words the moment she said them, but they resonated with her mood. Simply relying on time was not working. They had to try this now, and not later after she had lost more.

  She brought a hand forward, holding it perpendicular to the rocking waves. She adjusted it, like a rudder. It was not moving the boat directly, though direction changed. The water was minding her guidance now. She tipped the hand over flat.

  “We have hit the current,” she said.

  Jamie shifted, accommodating the waves’ push and pull. “Does the current take us inland to Glastonbury?”

  “No.” It was upon them, there was no more time to worry, and it did not hurt now to explain. “In the past, Glastonbury was the connection to Avalon. The island should still mimic its contours. However, as magic fled from the Earth, so, too, did the path recede. Avalon is an isle, and it can only be reached by sea.” She pointed to the waters. “From this current.”

  Jamie peeked over the side. “What’s special about this current?”

  Moralynn pointed to the sky. Multi-hued tresses of light danced across the heavens.

  Alexandrea’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Almost like home.”

  Moralynn caught Adhomai’s eye. “That,” she said, “is the fae sky. No stars, just a riot of color.”

  Her eyes returned to the horizon. Ocean and mist dissolved away to an emerald green hill. “It will not be long now.”

  “Then why wait?” Adhomai pulled on the rudder stem, and the boat jumped to life. It cut through the waves and rammed into the shore.

  Moralynn managed to brace herself on the deck. Alexandrea and Jamie were less lucky.

  Moralynn glared at Adhomai. “You could have given us a warning.”

  “I suspect that is their job?” Adhomai pointed to the four figures that marched towards them from the shoreline.

  Moralynn tried to suppress her panic. She could not tell if these were the same four from five centuries ago. Most Smiths, and certainly all Heralds, had a more built look. Even with the daintiest of fae races, their Smiths developed a bulk. The dwarf, demion, and komodrian, all looked comfortable with the massive hammer-heads they balanced. There was myrial as well, though with no hammer; it was covered in a chain-linked robe of turquoise and malachite.

  They have a Shaper.

  She did not know why she was surprised. The isle was guarded by Heralds, but that did not preclude a Shaper. They were on an island; someone with mastery of water would be of great assistance.

  The komodrian spoke first. “What brings you to this isle?”

  “You do not belong.” The demion hefted its hammer’s shaft before him. “Phoenix Sparked, you have been warned.”

  “Phoenix Sparked heir,” the komodrian spoke again, tipping its hammer head in Alexandrea’s direction. “Your master has been warned.”

  “Human.” The dwarf walked to face Jamie and sunk his hammer into the ground in front of him. “This place is not for you.”

  “What about me?”

  Alexandrea had argued about Adhomai’s behavior with Moralynn for months. Now she was of mixed mind. He could be too bold sometimes, but then that wa
s also what she admired about him.

  The dwarf stared down Adhomai. “Those who lay with mortals must accept their lot.” He pounded his hammer. “This place is not for you, either.”

  The demion lowered his hammer, keeping it parallel to the ground, waist high. “If you have come for Oberon’s blessing we shall say the words, then you must leave.”

  Moralynn caught his eye. He was not afraid, he was attempting to be respectful in his own way. He was offering them an out.

  It is too late now to take it.

  She squared her shoulders and tipped her scabbard. She took her time drawing out her fire blade, allowing the facets of the line of garnets to cut her hand, taking her blood.

  “I acknowledge that Avalon is Oberon’s holy isle. However, it is also sacred to the Phoenix and the humans who follow. You cannot deny our access.”

  The demion did not move, its dark eyes entirely on her. “The humans lost that right at Camlann. Camlann, where Lord Oberon’s son was lost. Camlann, where Merlin betrayed the fae.”

  Moralynn stepped forward, putting herself closest to the demion. She kept her sword out wide to the right, trying to wall off Alexandrea, Jamie, and Adhomai from the others. She closed her eyes and spoke softly. “How long must I atone for the just actions of my people?”

  “How long do the threads of time run along Titania’s loom?”

  Fire burst along the fuller of her sword.

  Jamie jumped back, skidding along the sand. No one else moved, not even a flinch. Moralynn spared a moment to smile in pride at Alexandrea’s calm.

  “Begone, Lady Moralynn.” The demion rotated his hammer shaft and pushed its head straight at her.

  She caught it with her left hand. The sand shifted, but she bound it to the ground, giving her a firm space, and then shoved back on the hammer.

  The demion retreated but did not fall or stumble.

  Moralynn drew up her hands raising sand and mineral in a wave, crashing past the three.

  They would not fall.

  After it passed, the dwarf and the myrial ran away.

  Moralynn could not spare the glance to see who followed who. She would have to trust that they could take care of themselves. There was no time.

  She clicked her tongue while spiraling into the air, getting off the ground which obeyed the Heralds more than her.

  Moralynn waved her sword low as she jumped, trying to distract the pair as she summoned a shield. The chrysoberyl buckler twisted and latched onto her left arm. The weight was unfamiliar; it had been so long since she summoned it, but she felt better with the strong shield deployed.

  Why had she not tried to arm them better? Though they had no Smith, perhaps Adhomai could have negotiated something? They were healers, except one still needed to remain conscious.

  She sliced the flaming blade through the air, but the Heralds did not shy away. The air was too damp here at the shoreline for her to extend the fire much farther past her blade. She needed to cut them with it.

  But she didn’t have the chance. The demion’s hammer knocked her left foot out of the air.

  The shock sent Moralynn backwards. She bent, turning it into a flip. She used the momentum to swing the fire blade toward the komodrian. Its hammer haft met her blade too soon.

  As she continued to spin backwards, Moralynn tried to recall how long had it taken for her to lose the fight the last time. Though this disturbed her, was she ready to lose again? Why had she come?

  To do something. She needed this, not just uncertainty with each trip. Not just waiting for Raebyn to strike next. This was something she could do. This was someone she could actually fight.

  She spun out her blade and shield, laying both hands on top of the shield, bouncing herself into the air. She used the brief contact with the ground to scrounge sandy, makeshift greave guards.

  The pair were fast, as she expected. They were experts in getting their hammers to the right spot. She counted on it. Both met her covered feet, but instead of knocking her back, she dropped the sand guard and pushed off again, now flipping over their heads. She swiveled the shield and sword again, this time grasping the fire blade, ignoring the burns to herself.

  They had not expected the flip behind, so when she landed, sword out, she managed to score on the komodrian.

  Their head swiveled, snout snapping in pain.

  Though their hammer didn’t arrived in time to stop her sword, its swing took her squarely in the chest, sending her back meters. As she flew she glanced round for her folk, hoping they fared better. Moralynn was still unsure of the bond between Jamie and Alexandrea, but from what she knew, she suspected he would do his best not to let any harm come to her apprentice. She believed Adhomai understood some of the importance of Alexandrea and hoped he would protect her as well.

  When Moralynn awoke, she was the only one of them left on the beach.

  The demion leered over her. There were no more thoughts of blessing. Its battle ardor had been stoked, and it would be slaked before it lay down its arms.

  Moralynn pushed off the sand and jumped into the air, ready to continue the fight.

  37

  “…along Titania’s loom?” Those words echoed in Alexandrea’s mind.

  The fae really did hate them—humans, Druids, followers of the Phoenix—that much. How could they twist history so? To blame a people they massacred, and claim the humans betrayed them?

  Fire burst along Moralynn’s sword. Alexandrea caught her smile, her trust. Battle shaping wasn’t her forte, but Moralynn was confident in her, otherwise she would not have stepped away. Alexandrea would defeat them, anything toward the path to recovering the Grail.

  The demion and komodrian faced off with Moralynn while the dwarf and myrial came their way. Adhomai stepped in front of her with his arm out.

  “The myrial is mine,” he said, “but do not disappoint.”

  Alexandrea spared a frown for Adhomai. Battles were not a time to sling words. It was time for focus, concentration, and precision. She raised her hands, palms parallel to her body. This was also not a time for mental games. When Shaping, one needed every thought to be clear on the intent for the element. Wind came to her, spiraling in until a tapered cone surrounded her.

  The dwarf did not come for them, only hefted his hammer.

  Alexandrea revolved her index fingers around each other in increasingly larger circles, then pointed to Jamie. A bit of her breeze spun off and surrounded him.

  “Shields?” he asked.

  She nodded, but didn’t look at him. “It’s a start.” She studied the dwarf. Now it twirled the hammer between its hands, but didn’t seem to be doing anything else. Though she rarely fought, she was used to how a Shaper might prepare and use their environment. This Smith unnerved her with its stillness.

  Grasp, toss, rotate the haft, then grasp again. The dwarf continued this pattern. Was it waiting for her to do something? She already summoned shields and might do more, but why did it wait? Grasp, toss, rotate. It was a small movement, but it continued. Again grasp, toss, rotate… Though his hands curved to follow the hammer haft with each toss, there was a brief time the Smith did not touch the hammer.

  Could she grab it? This was no simple foci, an alloy crafted by Oberon, the GodKing. But smiths could barely shape, usually not at all, it should not take much.

  Earth was not her strength, though. The space was too small to thread in a gust of air. She must guide this metal to her. She hummed, concentrating and tuning her earth foci. Rings and bangles resonated in response.

  Grasp, toss, rotate—and she found the hammer in that strange element sense, as if a kind of song interrupting the landscape.

  The dwarf dropped it, but into it’s own hands, now apart and holding strong to brandish.

  “That was not wise, Phoenix Sparked heir,” it said, then it charged at her.

  A stream of panic flowed in, then out of her. It was taking action now; she could do something about this one. The hammer wouldn’t penetrat
e her air shield, but as it closed on her, she could sidestep. From there she would outrun the dwarf, though she still didn't know where she’d go.

  Jamie dashed into its path, and the sand sloughed before him in small puddles. “What’s wrong?”

  The dwarf skidded across the sand, throwing up more sand than Jamie’s paltry shaping. He spun before reaching Jamie, angling out with the hammer head and using its own momentum to spin around once, gathering more force to crash into the air that surrounded Jamie.

  He flew back, though the air cone held around him, and Jamie spun within, thrashing in the air until both hit the shore.

  Alexandrea looked to Jamie, but spared a glance to the dwarf. It stopped again, watching them. She shuffled down to Jamie, but he was already on the mend.

  “It's okay. I got this.” He grabbed her arm. “Why is my earth shaping not working?”

  Her eyes darted again as she shifted her jaw. They never should have brought him here. If Moralynn didn’t see how dangerous this would be for someone like Jamie, then she should have pushed harder. If she could not protect her fellow humans, what kind of Phoenix would she be? This was her responsibility.

  “It’s sand.”

  “Dirt, sand.” Jamie waved a hand. “What does it matter?”

  “Dirt is soil, rocks, even plant.” Alexandrea stuck her hand into the sand, pooling some over his leg. “Sand is just rock. Plain and pure. With a sprinkling of glass, but that is something else entirely. It is considered an elemental admixture, between earth and air, in order to move the finer bits.”

  Adhomai appeared, falling a meter from them onto the wet shore. “Help?”

  The myrial dropped next to him, and both dove into the water.

  Jamie tapped her. “Can you get into the air?”

  Her brows knit. “What?”

  “To get the Grail. Towards the tor or whatever Moralynn was going on about.”

  She lowered her words to a whisper, her gaze on the waiting dwarf. “I can get in the air, but we need to get past him.”