The Phoenix Grail

by Helen Savore

  She flicked her eyes to Moralynn, who was wringing her hands. It was unusual to see them without gauntlets, though Alexandrea knew perfectly well she’d needed to take them off for the blood. Her ability to notice that detail gave her confidence her faculties were returning.

  “I admit I have not taken part in the full Investiture of the Phoenix, but I do know something about the flames from when I was Sparked.” Moralynn let out a long breath. “We summoned the flames, so we did some things right, but I could not kindle the Phoenix Spark itself. It would not respond to the flame.”

  Jamie grunted. “You needed even more flame?”

  Alexandrea gritted her teeth and patted the soil beside her. “That is not the only way.”

  Moralynn’s eyes narrowed. “Continue.”

  “The Spark is a failsafe, albeit one that didn’t work.” She didn’t linger on that thought. Those near-dead years. Raebyn might not actually have killed Moralynn, but he still ruined much, forcing her to recuperate for so long. The Phoenix Spark’s powers helped, though they never blossomed into the Phoenix. “So we summoned the fire, and this time had the spark, too, to help. But even without it a new Phoenix should be able to fly.”

  Moralynn nodded and touched Alexandrea’s knee. “That is true. To have summoned the fire, but not the Phoenix, it is infuriating. We had Grail, Mantle, Spark, and host. Even a body just in case, but the Spark should have sufficed.”

  Jamie shrugged. “If it failed you before, maybe it still won’t work now?” Jamie turned to Viviane. “Do you have any ideas?”

  Moralynn shook her head. “She is fae, what does she know of these ceremonies?”

  “Perhaps some,” Viviane said. “I have worked with the Phoenix previously.” She meshed her finger fins together. “What served as the body of the previous Phoenix?”

  Moralynn rubbed the spot just below her wrist on her left arm. “My…” She halted. “My blood came from his blood. It is all I have left.”

  Viviane closed her clear eyelids. “Your father may have contributed to your being, but it is not his blood that runs in your veins, Moralynn.”

  Moralynn’s face fell. “How could it not be enough? If it is not enough, and the Spark does not suffice, then the Phoenix may not… could not…”

  “As I understand the Phoenix legend, it typically rises from its own ashes?” Viviane’s words held a ring of truth, but they were not pleasant. Obviously, that was what Adhomai had thought. Had he been more right than the rest of them? “Given he died centuries ago, it is unlikely his ashes remain.”

  Moralynn looked to the sky, meeting none of their eyes. “He died in Oberon’s throne room, immolating himself. If anyone had the forethought to save them, Raebyn would have known, and likely told Adhomai. He would not have asked for them then.” She closed her eyes. “They are gone. It is over.”

  Alexandrea gulped. They were supposed to make the Earth better, extend lives, heal people; they were going to return magic. Now it seemed it would never happen. Not on her watch, not on her children’s, or any descendant. She’d failed them. She’d failed her long line, tracing all the way back to Bedivere, who served as wise adviser to King Arthur.

  “Not quite.” The opaque film covered Viviane’s eyes. “A war is building and will break soon within the fae realms. War you helped start, Moralynn.”

  Moralynn glared. “I do not have the Phoenix.”

  “You do have the Phoenix Grail.”

  They stared.

  Alexandrea closed her eyes, continuing to breathe. Her thoughts drifted away from the conversation. She should follow this, the war with the fae, but her mind would not leave the Grail. No, not after all this. She was ready to die to give them a chance, ready to give up the Phoenix for herself. There must be another way. Though, the Phoenix Spark itself was already a failsafe, one that hadn’t worked. What else could represent Merlin’s body?

  Jamie lifted his head. “I will still do my part.”

  She gasped and looked to Jamie, who took one of her hands in his.

  “I will honor my word and serve as apprentice to the Llehfin.”

  That grabbed Alexandrea’s attention. She kept her eyes on him, and he did the same. She squeezed his hand and nodded.

  Moralynn nodded as well. “Good luck in Llehfin, James Penderson.”

  Alexandrea’s thoughts continued to spin. He had said this before, and he would still go. He was ready to sacrifice himself for them, for this, to the Llehfin fae, in order to support their cause. And he did it without being backed into a corner. This war, they might have already started it, but it would be worse now. Adhomai had betrayed them. Would Raebyn think they summoned the Phoenix or would he realize their mistake? That fire alone was not enough? He’d know burns would not kill them.

  But they would kill someone. When a Phoenix was ready to die, they turned to flame. “Merlin immolated himself in Oberon’s throne room.”

  Moralynn held her breath, and Viviane’s tentacles twitched.

  “I don’t understand,” Jamie said. “Is there something special about the sword?”

  “It is a possibility,” Viviane answered. “Not definite. The flames of a dying Phoenix might impart something to the surrounding metal, the sword, like in a forge.” Viviane shifted her gaze to Moralynn. “There can be no guaranty. Moreover, that does not address how we either bring the sword to us or get you to the sword.”

  “The sword that Arthur would pull on his return.” Moralynn’s gaze rose to the sky. “It makes me almost wish Adhomai was right, so we could retrieve it that much quicker. But no.” Moralynn crossed an arm across her breast.

  “My Lord Arthur, know I have not fought for your return, but only thought it hopeless. If you be still out there, this is the time to return. If not, forgive us the borrowing of your sword.” She grabbed Alexandrea’s shoulder. “Then, we shall see if we fly.”

  Moralynn’s dark eyes bore into her. The words were brave, but there was defeat as well as fatigue. Maybe it would pass, the further removed they became from today’s disaster. If not…

  A series of pricks climbed Alexandrea’s arm, as if being pierced by a rogue needles. This continued up her neck, leading to her mouth.

  Words came to her, appearing in her subconscious and with them a much needed sense of calm. Things would not end here. They couldn’t. If Moralynn had lost her hope, than Alexandrea must carry it for all of them.

  “These challenges we must condone,

  for our alliance to be hone.

  The Phoenix shall rise, and the Llehfin secure their lives, once sword is drawn from throne.”

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  Acknowledgments

  When I was in grade school, there was a television show that all my peers talked about that, but for some reason I couldn’t watch at home. Eventually, I snuck an episode at a friend’s. The thrill of forbidden television quickly fell away to disappointment: it was boring. I didn’t want to waste illicit viewings on a show about misunderstandings and acting out.

  I decided I could do better, and henceforth, I was a writer.

  It might have taken some time to become published, but with a world of help we have finally gotten there. Most of all this book would not have been possible without my husband. He is my alpha listene
r, debater, supporter, and all around makes my life better. I wouldn’t be the person I am without him.

  Many people helped shaped The Phoenix Grail into what you hold here. My editors Crystal Watanabe, Mia Kleve, and Judy Mohr. My beta readers Ella Apollodorus, Katlyn Regnier, Vennessa Robertson, Michael Denham, and Aurora Nibley.

  Countless people have provided commentary on bits of versions of this story. I would like to thank my buddies from DragonCon’s Writing Workshop, run by Jody Lynn Nye, my fellow Scribophiles, and all my friends from Superstars Writing Seminar. In many ways you have become my home away from home.

  Thank you to Jenn Crawford who helped develop my Oberon’s Forge Press logo, making me feel a bit more professional. Special thanks goes out to Holly Heisey for pulling my characters off the page and rendering them onto the cover.

  Thank you too for all the story tellers who came before to create this legend that intrigues so many. Maybe, because even when it sinks to the depths of despair, it gives us a little hope.

  Copyright © 2019 by Helen Savore

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: helen.savore@gmail.com

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  About the Author

  Helen Savore is the author of The Phoenix Succession and Tales of the Faerie Forge series. She can be found at www.helensavore.com. When she isn’t writing she is playing games, reading, and folding origami.