The Phoenix King: The Thunderheart Chronicles Book 2 Read online

  “What happened out there?” Aidan asked.

  Timothy tried to relay, in between gulps of the life-giving liquid, everything that had happened. As he spoke, the sun slowly dipped below the horizon.

  When he finished, Eleanor shook her head. “Poor Kyra. Is there anything at all we can do to help? Wait—where is she?”

  They all stood and looked around the cave, as if she had melted into the walls.

  “She can’t have gone out,” Eleanor said, “I would have felt something when she passed over my traps.”

  “Then she must have gone down,” Aaliyah said, gesturing toward the back of the mine. “She probably just needs to be alone for a while.”

  “More than a while,” Eleanor said. “Her stuff is gone. Even her sleeping mat.”

  For a moment they were silent. Then, one by one, the wizards became suddenly aware of an absence of power that should have been filling the room. Aidan was the first to say what they were all feeling.

  “Uh, guys,” the wizard said, “I think she took the egg.”

  9

  Taking the egg had been a mistake. Kyra didn’t really know what was so important about it, but she knew that it was emitting a lot of power. And the witch needed power.

  Kyra’s spells had three required components. The first was a power source. Power could be obtained from most magical creatures and plants. The shed skin of a fire salamander, dragon excrement, a griffin’s feather, or, in a pinch, a bit of rowan wood would do. Given time, a well-trained witch could condense the natural magic found just about everywhere into something usable, but Kyra didn’t have time.

  The second ingredient was some sort of enhancer. Sorcerers are only able to use magic because it understands them. It recognizes them as one of its own and responds accordingly, most of the time. A witch didn’t have that luxury. The book described it as a language barrier between an average man and the magic. To solve this, one had only to use something that the magic understood, and combined with the witch’s tongue, the magic could be used to do practically anything. The communication component required was different based on what spell was being used. Ashes for fire and heat, wood for life, certain mushrooms for spells of the mind. For really complicated spells, multiple communication ingredients may be required.

  Finally, every witch spell needed a catalyst. The catalyst was generally the only ingredient with a chance of surviving the spell. The best catalysts were generally powders that the other ingredients could stick to. Throwing a handful of sawdust is a lot more precise than a handful of crushed leaves, and a lot easier to carry. For potions, water made a fine catalyst.

  Unfortunately for Kyra, making or finding all of these took time and effort. The egg had seemed like a godsend when she took it. The whole thing was filled with power, the shell would make a good catalyst, and the life inside could be used to communicate to the magic that she needed a very big spell.

  The big spell she needed was not a pleasant one. It was a death spell that could target up to a hundred people. It was very, very specific and used more power than Kyra had ever dreamed of having. The idea for the spell came into her head the moment she saw Derrin, dead. The poor old man had loved her every day of her life, and in thanks she had been gone when he needed her most. Now, as she ran with the egg, she knew what she needed to do.

  There hadn’t been that many bodies at the village, compared to the actual population. Typical. When Malcommer’s soldiers razed a town, the standard procedure was to kill one in ten people at random, plus any who tried to resist, and the village leader. The rest would be forced to join Malcommer’s ranks or sold to the highest bidder if they were too weak.

  That meant that somewhere out there were a bunch of children and elderly people being held hostage by the group of soldiers who had destroyed Kyra’s home and killed the people she loved. The witch would do anything in her power to free them, even if it meant stealing the phoenix egg from her new friends.

  As Kyra ran down the shaft with a torch in hand, praying that the sorcerers and amogh wouldn’t notice she was gone, the tunnel began to even out into flat ground. Eventually, she heard to sound of water and her heart leapt. Kyra knew the stream originated somewhere underground and flowed out the bottom of the hill, heading north for some time. It wasn’t that deep, only about five feet while underground, but it was enough. The miners had built a simple wooden bridge over the river so that they could continue deeper into the hill, and this was where Kyra decided to jump in. First she threw her pack into the water. She cringed as it hit with a splash. It wasn’t exactly waterproof. All of her belongings would be soaked for at least a day.

  Next she threw over her witch’s sack. It too would be soaked, but the bags that held the individual powders would protect them. The phoenix egg sat in one of those pouches.

  Finally, the girl tied up her skirt behind her back and dove in. The water was freezing cold, as always. Kyra had swum in it many times. If there was ever an emergency in the village, the plan was to literally head for the hill and hide in the cave until whatever danger had passed. The river was the only way out, other than the entrance. Obviously, no one had made it when Garret attacked the village.

  Kyra held her breath and dove. It took exactly forty-two seconds for the river to carry her out of the hill and into the starlight, but the water was against the roof until then. This was not a problem for her, but she was hoping it would slow her pursuers, if she had any.

  The witch came the surface and gasped for air, then swam to the bank. Her supplies had all washed up on the shore, exactly where she thought they would.

  She crawled, shivering, to her witch’s sack and pulled out the last of her fire salamander skin and some ashes. She scooped up some dirt from the river’s edge and whispered her first and most important spell.

  “Ignus.”

  She threw the clumps of enchanted dirt into the air. They suspended themselves and lit up, tiny balls of fire and heat. They looked like fireflies drifting over the water, returning strength to Kyra’s tired body.

  She opened her pack and pulled out the only thing that really mattered. Her book, The Magics of The Elderborn. It was her mother’s best and last gift to her. It had been enchanted to resist water.

  She curled up with the book and felt tears running down her cheek. She knew she needed to keep moving, but she was so cold. The girl closed her eyes.

  Derrin’s face suddenly appeared, so full of terror, so real. So dead. The witch’s eyes snapped open. She threw all of her possessions back into her pack and threw it over her shoulder. Water dripped off of the girl as she trudged forward, into the woods. As she did so, she heard something or someone sputter behind her.

  Kyra whipped her head around to see the amogh emerging from the river with a knife in her hand and a fire in her eye. The dark-haired girl swore.

  The witch hated this Aaliyah. She didn’t like that the girl was immune to magic, and for some reason it made Kyra mad when the sorcerer with the dragon scars ogled the amogh.

  Kyra turned and ran into the woods. She didn’t know why she bothered trying, the other girl was faster, stronger, and probably smarter. All the witch knew was that she had to stop the soldiers. She had to save her people. She heard curses behind her and tried to run a little faster.

  Keep going Kyra. Just a little bit further. They need you. Derrin needs you.

  She felt the amogh tackle her from behind. She tried to turn and claw at her pursuer, but felt an arm wrap around her throat, blocking the blood flow to her brain. It took only a few moments for the witch to go limp.

  ***

  Aidan splashed to the surface of the river. He probably would have drowned if not for the help of Timothy, who practically pushed him through the cave. Timothy was a sailor’s son who had been forced to swim from a young age. The deepest water Aidan had been in before the Battle of the Isle was about four feet deep. Aaliyah had taught him to swim in the ocean, but not to hold his breath for what felt like an eternity.
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  Aaliyah was already tearing off into the woods when the three wizards reached the bank.

  “Should we follow them?” Timothy asked.

  Aidan shook his head. “We would probably just get in Aaliyah’s way, and we don’t have any magic.”

  They clambered onto the small beach. It was actually a good place to set up camp. The trees stopped a fair distance from the water, and the river probably had fish in it.

  A moment later they heard the amogh girl scream something relating Kyra’s mother to a troll, then silence.

  “Aaliyah?” Aidan asked. “You got her?”

  The amogh came stumbling out of the forest, an unconscious Kyra slung over her shoulders.

  “For a poor villager, she ate well enough,” Aaliyah said. “She feels like a sack of rocks.”

  “Where’s the egg?” Timothy asked. “I want to cloak it.”

  Aaliyah dropped Kyra roughly on the ground and threw Timothy her witch’s sack. Aidan couldn’t help but feel sorry for the young girl. He understood her need for revenge all too well. As she lay there, wet and unconscious, she looked so small, not at all like the prophetess who could bring three sorcerers to their knees with a single spell.

  Timothy found the egg and took Eleanor’s hand. “I hope between the two of us we have enough magic for this. Mahor celiar se.”

  Aidan felt the magic emanating from the egg deaden.

  Timothy and Eleanor fell into each other, then to the ground. “On the bright side, none of us have enough magic left to track,” Eleanor said. “The hellhounds should leave us alone for the night.”

  Aaliyah nodded. “We all need rest, and food. Aidan, I have some ropes in my pack. Tie Kyra to that tree. I’m going to get some firewood ready, but I don’t want to risk lighting it yet. In the morning, maybe you two will have enough magic left to keep them from seeing the smoke.”

  Aidan nodded and pushed Kyra up against the tree. He tried to avoid bumping her head against the rough bark; she would have enough of a headache when she woke up.

  “What are we going to do with her?” he asked, securing the last knot.

  Aaliyah shook her head. “I don’t know. She’s a liability, and she’s proven she’s not afraid to fight against us.” The amogh was throwing out the sleeping mats. They were far too wet to be used that night, but perhaps in the morning they would be dry. “Aidan, we can’t take her with us, and we can’t let her go. She knows far too much. We may … we may have to kill her.”

  Aidan felt rage boil up inside him.

  “I’m not taking an innocent life. She was trying to avenge her people. I would have done the same thing,” he said.

  “Hey Aidan,” Timothy said. “Have you seen this book she has? There are spells in here for killing hundreds of people. It makes our nergaldock spell seem like child’s play. She’s hardly innocent.”

  Aidan stood and approached Aaliyah.

  “She had her reasons for taking the egg. I don’t think she wanted to hurt us. I can’t believe you’re even suggesting this!” he said.

  Aaliyah laughed. “Typical. Falling for every pretty girl you see, believing they all want the best for you. Well they don’t, magic boy.”

  “What are you even talking about?” Aidan said. The rage was welling up more and more. “You’re the only other pretty girl I know!”

  “Oi!” Eleanor said. “I’m still here.”

  Aidan and Aaliyah both turned to glare at her for a moment before returning to their own argument.

  Aaliyah closed her eyes. Aidan could feel her trying to calm their heartbeat. “I’m not saying we kill her now. I’m just saying that if it comes down to it, you need to be willing to make the right call.”

  The wizard shook his head. “I’m not killing anyone while they’re helpless.”

  The amogh looked straight into his eyes. “That didn’t stop you before.”

  Aidan felt something inside him break. Not with anger or rage, though that was still present. No, this was guilt in its purest form.

  “You told me I had to kill Edwin,” he breathed. “You told me it was worth it.”

  He felt the heartsoul link between him and Aaliyah quiver, and then an emotion came from her end that he wasn’t expecting. Pain. Pain she felt at seeing him so broken.

  “Both of you stop.” Timothy said. “It’s late. Go to sleep. It’ll make more sense in the morning.”

  Aidan nodded and sighed. He felt a shiver run down his back. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until now. Aaliyah didn’t seem to mind the temperature. Probably something to do with her amogh body. Timothy and Eleanor were curled up together, fending off the cold, but Kyra was just waking up and trembling violently.

  Aaliyah nodded to the witch. “She’ll die without heat, and we have no fire or magic. If you want to keep her alive, that’s all you.”

  The amogh laid down on the beach and closed her eyes. Aidan felt their heartbeat slow to the awkward pace it stayed at when only one of them was conscious.

  He went over to Kyra and sat down next to her with his back against the tree. She glared at him through her drying curtain of black hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “We wouldn’t be keeping you here unless we had to.”

  She pushed herself away from him as much as the ropes would allow and stubbornly stared up at the stars.

  Aidan sighed and leaned back against the tree. Eventually, the cold became too much for Kyra and he felt her reluctantly push up against him to share heat. As her head rested on his shoulder, Aidan began to feel something rise up inside him that he hadn’t felt since Aaliyah nearly kissed him on the isle.

  No, no, no, he thought. She’s literally the only person even less likely than Aaliyah to be with me.

  But he couldn’t help it. Her gentle breathing was pushing and pulling a single tuft of hair that dangled in front of her face, and despite everything it was the most adorable thing Aidan had ever seen. And there was something about her, from the magic of her prophecies to her smile, that was so strangely familiar.

  He grimaced and closed his eyes. Before he dozed off, he last thought was that Aaliyah had been right about one thing.

  Though he hadn’t noticed it at first, Kyra was very, very pretty.

  ***

  Lief had long been a supporter of equality amongst his people, even prior to his kingship. Before the young boy made his ascension to the throne, his grandfather had ruled Gurvinite, the center continent of Sortiledge, with an iron fist. The old man had been appointed during the Great Wars, after the previous royal family had been assassinated in their sleep by a group of amoghs. As a result, Lief’s grandfather had lived with a fear of those different than him that bordered on paranoia. When he ate or held meetings, he did so at a long, rectangular table. Amoghs, should they ever attend a meeting, would be forced to sit at the end of the table, furthest away from the king.

  When Lief rose to the throne, he immediately did away with the rectangular meeting place and had the dwarves carve him a massive round table. The thing was far too heavy to practically transport, so he had some wizards cast spells on it that would make it lighter. As an unexpected gift, the sorcerers added an enchantment to the top of the table. Should Lief or any of his descendants wish it, the table would carve onto itself scenes from the most important events of the kingdom.

  So far, most of the space was empty. There was a very small etching of dragons attacking Fort Phoenix, and another of two small humans defending an island from the beasts. There was a treaty after the battle, signifying peace between Sortiledge and the great serpents of the Dragonback Range.

  Now, as Lief sat here at the emergency meeting, he was considering adding even the minutest of stories. It seemed a shame that the beautiful table would likely be destroyed before it could be filled with tales of adventure.

  “Lief, what do you think?” Bartemus asked.

  The young monarch forced pulled his awareness back to the matter at hand. Bartemus had called this meeting apart fro
m the rest of the council to discuss options for dealing with Malcommer. The elves and dwarves had made it clear that there would be no assistance for Gurvinites should Malcommer return.

  “About what?” Lief said. He honestly felt under equipped here. He was surrounded by some of the best warriors and strategists in Sortiledge. Borin, leader of the amoghs and the only living man to ever have harmed Malcommer; Bartemus and Malachi, the last known warlocks; Jeremiah Gerang, captain of the King’s guard and Lief’s heir should he die before having children; and finally, a hooded figure bearing a bow and several daggers.

  The mysterious man was the rangers’ leader. For the safety of the corps, the ranger never revealed his identity. Lief understood and respected the custom. Being a ranger was dangerous enough without everyone in Sortiledge knowing your name. However, this time there was something wrong. Normally, the ranger conversed with all the members of the party and merrily greeted them. There was no need to uphold the solemn gaze of a hunter while among friends. This time, however, the representative came and sat down without exchanging a word. He stayed between Lief and Borin, which was also odd. Normally he sat next to Malachi.

  Lief had been trained in the art of deception. He knew that it was the little things that gave someone away. A hand that was clean-shaven instead of hairy. A height difference of half an inch. The way this imposter uncomfortably adjusted his bow, not at all like a man who had worn the weapon most of his life.

  “Lief, I know this is a lot to take in, but we need you on top of your game right now. Do you think forming an air unit would give us enough defense against Malcommer?”

  The king shook his head to clear it. “Do any of you honestly believe that would work? Our griffins would be a quick snack for Malcommer’s Wyverns.”

  Lief leaned towards Jeremiah, who was sitting on his right.

  “I need you see if there has been a change in the rangers’ command. Come back with your best guards,” the king whispered.