The Phoenix King: The Thunderheart Chronicles Book 2 Read online

  He heard Eleanor shout a spell behind him, and his soulrock started to glow. It was beautiful blue thing on a silver chain around his neck. One of the soldiers reached for it, and was thrown against the wall.

  Garret looked at Eleanor and said one word. “Morka.” Pain.

  The sorceress fell to the ground screaming, and Timothy yelled out as well. When Eleanor got so much as a bruise he would do anything to make her feel better. This was pure agony for both wizards. After what seemed like an eternity, Garret stopped the spell with a wave of his hand.

  “Leave the boy’s crystal. Won’t do him any good without that wand, he’s certainly no warlock. Just make sure the girl’s is gone.”

  The soldier who had tried to take Timothy’s soulrock stood and walked to the trembling Eleanor. He took the crystal, careful to only touch it with his glove, and smashed it on the ground. Eleanor screamed one more time as he did so, and Timothy saw the magic go out of her eyes.

  It was okay, soulrocks were replaceable. But now that her magic was gone, she was defenseless.

  “Bring the boy to the cage. I want the girl tied up outside the gallows. In the morning I will call a council meeting, and then she will hang.”

  Timothy lunged at Garret, but to no avail. “Why are you doing this?” he whispered.

  “Oh, you’ll know soon enough,” the Dark Angel replied. “But for now, all you need to know is this: had you never sworn vengeance the night you found your mother dead, I would never have known you existed.”

  Garret swept out of the room, with Timothy and Eleanor being dragged by a guard each.

  Timothy screamed and tried to get to the love of his life, but he couldn’t. And she wouldn’t even look at him.

  He was powerless. He was so, so small. And it was all over.

  Garret had won.

  ***

  Aidan tried to draw his ranger’s cloak tighter around his arms. He had known it would be cold before beginning the trek up the mountain, but he hadn’t realized that this much cold was physically possible. A snowstorm had started soon after he left the forest. Now, the white stuff covered the. His horse huffed underneath him as it laboriously lifted one foot after another, steam bursting from its nostrils. A small shadow occasionally appeared near Aidan. The wizard wasn’t sure why the Black Dog had chosen to accompany him, but he wasn’t complaining. He would need all the help he could get, and the ghostly canine didn’t seem to mind the cold.

  A shout suddenly broke the howling wind. It sounded human … almost. But no human could make that much sound. Aidan’s horse whinnied nervously.

  “It’s okay girl,” he said. “Just keep going.”

  The wizard hoped he was following the right path. It was impossible to see where the trail had been under all the snow. He was mostly relying on the horse’s natural instincts to choose the best footing.

  Another shout echoed around the mountain. Aidan couldn’t tell where the noise was coming from, and he couldn’t see anything through all the snow. He felt the horse tense up.

  “Calm down, girl,” he said. Then he felt a shaking on the ground, like a giant earthquake. The horse screamed and bucked until Aidan was thrown onto the ground, then ran off back down the path. Through the blizzard, Aidan could just barely see the outline of a giant man jump onto the hapless beast and bring his club down.

  Aidan got up and ran. He had read about these creatures. Jotuns, the ice giants. Dwarves had enslaved many of them and would make them fight in massive coliseums for sport.

  The young wizard kept going until the sound of crunching bones and horrid laughter was far behind him. It was probably better that way. The exercise kept his core a little bit warmer. Eventually though, he had to slow to a walk.

  I can’t feel my hands, he thought. Or my feet. I think that’s bad.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, Aidan realized that he had stopped shivering. He shook his head. Everything felt so foggy.

  Maybe I just need to sleep, he thought. I’ll find a cave or something and curl up inside it.

  He stumbled over something, he wasn’t sure what, and fell to his knees.

  There aren’t going to be any caves for miles. Maybe I could just lie down here.

  It was so calm, with the wind blowing overhead. Aidan slowly closed his eyes. A sharp pinch on his backside jolted him awake. He got up on his feet as quickly as he could. The Black Dog was behind him, growling.

  “Go away dog,” he mumbled.

  The creature bit him again, forcing him to take a few steps forward. Every time Aidan slowed, the beast nipped him and started growling. The wizard kept going like that for what seemed like an eternity. At some point though, even the Black Dog couldn’t keep the sorcerer moving. He fell again, but this time when the creature bit him he didn’t get up.

  “I’m going to die,” he said. He pulled his wand out of his pocket. Any fire or heat he made would sap his energy further, and there was nothing to burn in this wasteland of snow and rock. There was one way that his magic might still save him, but it was a longshot.

  He pointed his wand straight up at the sky. He wasn’t sure if it was day or night through all the snow, but he imagined that stars were shining somewhere up above.

  “Ingo,” he whispered.

  A small fireball erupted from the end of his wand and flung itself upwards into the heavens. Before it disappeared completely, Aidan made it explode. Even through the blizzard, surely someone would see it. The wizard hoped it wouldn’t be the jotuns who got there first.

  The young boy felt the Black Dog curl up next to him. Of course, the ghostly creature provided no heat, but it was comforting to feel another soul nearby. Aidan slowly closed his eyes.

  He heard shouting before he could fully drift off, and felt someone grabbing his shoulders. He tried to cling to consciousness, but it was so hard to keep his eyes open.

  “Stay with me, Firebird,” he heard someone say. A female voice. Vaguely familiar.

  He forced himself to look up, for just a moment. He was being taken into a cave, with warm wind washing over him.

  “My father,” he whispered. “I need to find him.”

  Aidan blinked, and found himself in a warm room. Several tall figures were standing over him, chanting in some strange foreign tongue.

  “You are safe, Firebird,” one of them said. “You can rest now.”

  “No,” Aidan whispered. He reached into his cloak and pulled out the egg. “My father.”

  “We know,” the voice said. “All is well. Rest.”

  Aidan couldn’t hang on any longer. He closed his eyes a final time and let himself fall deep into darkness.

  ***

  Kyra and Aaliyah stood at the edge of the field that surrounded Wyvern’s Roost. Both girls wore armor that was far too large for them. Aaliyah was holding her crossbow, while Kyra had taken the reins of the wounded horse, who was now loaded with their luggage. The witch could tell that the amogh was not comfortable with her plan to save Timothy and Eleanor, but they hadn’t been able to come up with anything better, especially since they didn’t speak the same language.

  The two stepped out onto the road and walked boldly toward the castle walls. Well, Aaliyah walked boldly. Kyra wanted to shrink into her oversized metal boots. The armor was very, very heavy, but their plan depended on the disguise.

  They reached the gates and looked up at the guards standing above it. One of the guards called down to them, but Kyra couldn’t understand what he said. This was where Aaliyah came in. The amogh would have to respond in a nearly perfect accent if they were going to sell their scam.

  Kyra breathed a sigh of relief when the guard yelled back and called over some men to help him raise the gate winch. The giant metal structure rose into the air, and the two girls and the horse stepped inside.

  “I got to admit, I never seen girl soldiers before. I thought the big boss was training ladies to ride wyverns and run siege engines.” the guard said in Aranumen. Clearly protocol didn’t matt
er so much in this place.

  Kyra glanced around. The other two sets of gates were already open. The second one was made of metal, and the third had wooden doors.

  “Yeah, we’re griffin patrol. Just saw this poor beast on the road and recognized him as one of yours. We need to see your birds.”

  The witch was mentally kicking herself. Griffin patrol? Really Kyra? That was the best you could think of?

  The guard took off his helmet to scratch his head. As he did so, Kyra noticed something wriggling around in his hair. Ew, worms.

  “I never heard of that unit before. But it doesn’t matter, so long as your papers are in order. What’s your identification?” he said, pulling out a piece of paper and a chunk of charcoal.

  Kyra blinked. She had never heard of Garret’s men having identification numbers. She could try to make one up, but she didn’t even know how long it was supposed to be. Oh well. Time to go to the second plan.

  “Oh, silly me, I left it in my pack. Let me just grab it.” Kyra pulled her witch’s sack off the horses back. That was Aaliyah’s signal.

  The amogh calmly unsheathed her knife and whacked the guard on the head with its pommel. One of the men standing on the walls started yelling, and Kyra saw both gates start to close.

  “Run!” she yelled, and took off toward the keep.

  She and Aaliyah easily made it through the second gate before it had time to close, but were stopped by the wooden doors of the third wall. That was all right—Kyra had a plan for that, but she had to work quickly. The witch reached into her sack and pulled out another bundle, just like the one she had thrown at fake Garret’s carriage. Between the two, the witch’s stores were almost depleted, but it would be worth it.

  Soldiers moved to surround them. Aaliyah held them back with her mace, but Kyra knew it would only be a few moments before the men remembered they had crossbows. The witch whispered “Ignus,” to her tiny pouch and threw it under the door, then grabbed Aaliyah and pulled her to the side.

  The door blew off its hinges and flew through the air where the girls had been standing moments before. It careened into four soldiers, giving Kyra and Aaliyah the time they needed to run into the inner courtyard of the castle. They were in luck. Garret’s black griffin was tied up outside the keep, screaming and trying to get away from Kyra’s magical explosion. The dark-haired girl grabbed onto its saddle and tried to hoist herself up while Aaliyah slashed the ropes.

  The witch felt tiny hands push her into the griffin’s bowl-shaped saddle. Aaliyah immediately joined her with a graceful leap. Kyra had no idea how she managed to move with such ease in her armor.

  The griffin was all too happy to be free of its restraints and took off into the sky. As Kyra had hoped, none of the soldiers below were stupid enough to shoot at their master’s prized beast, and it wasn’t long before Wyvern’s Roost faded from sight.

  As Kyra looked back at the castle, it suddenly hit her that several soldiers had seen her face. Her home and family had been destroyed. She had killed guards who were protecting her own country. The witch felt a tear run down her face. There was no place for her in this land anymore. She was an enemy of Aranumis.

  ***

  Timothy sat awake all night in the cage. Even if he hadn’t been terrified for Eleanor’s life, the thing wasn’t exactly made for comfort. It was only about three feet tall, and didn’t have enough room to lie down in. The entire thing was made of Rakka steel bars, four inches apart. Timothy had curled up in the corner as far away from the door as possible. He had been staring at the wall the entire night, oblivious to everything around him. The words of Kyra’s second prophecy kept running through his head again and again, no matter how hard he tried to shut them out.

  Sometime during the morning soldiers trickled into the room where the cage sat. The place seemed to be some sort of armory and mess hall for Garret’s soldiers. There were long tables lined up in the center of the room, at least enough to seat fifty men. Each table held candles, since it wasn’t yet light out. On the walls were racks of crossbows, shields, swords, maces, and daggers. Stands throughout the room held various types of armor, from leather to chain mail to the hard metal shells that Timothy had seen already.

  Eventually two men came in bearing massive platters of bread and eggs, and the soldiers started cheering. The room wasn’t quite full, but it was close. More importantly, Timothy could see the two guards who had put him in this cage. One of them had keys dangling from his waist.

  The young wizard raised his head up. The soldiers had started a song while they ate breakfast, and were merrily tearing apart their food and sloshing mugs of water. After they had sung for a few choruses, one of the men came over and slammed his cup against Timothy’s cage, splashing liquid all over the wizard.

  “We owe you one,” he said. “Garret wants everyone present for the execution, so no going to the mines for us today. Course, your pretty little spy friend will pay for it with her neck.”

  Timothy curled up tighter. Anger boiled inside of him, but he knew it would do him no good to lash out. No, if he was going to help Eleanor, he needed to be stronger than that. He waited until the soldier walked away. Now was the time to do what he had been waiting all night to do.

  He could feel the magic bubbling inside him. It had been building all night, and now it was screaming to be released, to save the person whose heart was so entwined with his own. He stuck his hand out of the cage. If he was going to do this, he had to eliminate every threat in one fell swoop. Every guard and soldier had to die, regardless of age or the goodness of their soul.

  “Akae nergaldock aut,” he whispered. Water of death.

  “Hey, look over there. Little sorcerer can’t do magic with his wand,” one of the older soldiers yelled. Timothy saw a young boy, about his age, glance at the cage. There was pity and guilt etched all over the young soldier’s face. Timothy squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Akae nergaldock aut,” he said, louder this time. His magic was buzzing now. It recognized his words, even if it had no conduit.

  “Akae nergaldock aut!”

  This spell had to be precise and focused, not rough and uncut like Aidan’s wandless magic. It had to be a warlock’s enchantment.

  “Someone shut him up. You, rookie, go break his fingers if he won’t put his hand back in the cage,” one of the soldiers said. The rest of the room was quiet now. Timothy could feel all eyes on him, even though his were still closed. This had to work. For Eleanor.

  “Akae nergaldock aut,” he breathed once more. But this time, it was Eleanor’s face he pictured as he said the words.

  He felt an intense burning on his forehead. It was unlike any magical experience the boy had ever known. There was no room for thought as magic surged through his body and his mind, no longer a tool but a part of his very being.

  The new warlock opened his eyes. Steam wafted through the room, rising from every cup, though it avoided Timothy’s cage. The soldiers had all stopped smiling. They were staring blankly ahead at the walls as if they held the secrets to all eternity. Then, one by one, they toppled over. Armor crashed and chain mail crunched as the souls of at least thirty men disappeared from the room.

  In the end, only one was left standing, the boy Timothy had seen earlier. He was a few feet from the cage, far enough away from any of the poisoned liquid. Timothy realized the soldier had been about to break his fingers.

  “Get me those keys or I’ll do the same to you,” Timothy hissed.

  The boy nodded and stumbled back to the jail keeper’s corpse. Along with a few others, it had managed to stay sitting up after its life was gone. The young soldier pulled the keys from the man’s belt and brought them back to the cage, then opened it. It took him longer than it should have, his hands were shaking badly as he tried to insert the key into the lock.

  Timothy crawled out of his cage, stood, and walked to the nearest weapon rack then took down a sword. It was long and heavy and definitely made of Rakka steel.

&
nbsp; The warlock turned to the last young soldier. For a moment, he hesitated. But only for a moment. The sorcerer raised the sword and plunged it deep into his terrified enemy’s chest. Timothy pushed aside his guilt and lowered the body to the ground. Until Garret was dead and Eleanor was free, there was no time for such leisure as mercy. Anyone loyal to the Dark Angel would die.

  “For vengeance won’t rest till it’s had its time,” Timothy whispered. That was the only part of the prophecy he would allow to come true.

  The warlock stood and walked toward the door. Sunlight had just broken through the darkness and was casting light on the carnage in the room. The gallows would already be set up. Garret was probably there, making sure his prey couldn’t escape.

  Timothy threw open the doors. It was time to keep a promise he had made to his mother the day he found her body, a vow once made in the coldest of blood.

  The warlock raised his hands and stepped out into the light.

  ***

  Aidan gasped and sat up, instinctively reaching for his wand. Taking stock of the area, he noticed he’d been sleeping in a soft bed tucked away in the back of an empty cave. Light shone in from the entrance, outlining a tall figure. Light shone in from the entrance, outlining a tall figure who emitted elven magic like a beacon. Aidan recognized it; how could he not? The person he knew with that magical energy signature had once saved his life.

  “Aeron?” he asked.

  “My father isn’t here right now,” said a female voice. “But I am more than capable of answering your questions.”

  “Hollianna,” Aidan said. The elven girl stepped into the light. Again, the wizard was amazed and at the same time frightened by the exotic, cold beauty of the elves.

  “Hello Aidan. It’s been some time. Perhaps one day we shall meet under circumstances that do not involve me saving your life.”

  A thin smile graced her lips, and Aidan realized that was her idea of a joke. Elves were weird.