The Phoenix King: The Thunderheart Chronicles Book 2 Page 22

  Nothing makes sense when magic is involved, she thought as she ducked under his bolt.

  Aaliyah saw Kyra charge into the battle, but Garret easily whacked her out of the way with his crossbow. The witch crumpled, unconscious. Aaliyah didn’t have time to check on her, because the Dark Angel immediately went on the offensive again.

  After what seemed like half an hour of fighting, Aaliyah finally scored a cut on Garret’s arm. She was satisfied to see that the Rakka steel sliced right through his skin, and he bled like any other man.

  So you can be killed, she thought.

  She attacked with renewed fury, letting her amogh ability tell her when to block and focusing everything else on finding a weak spot.

  That was when she made a mistake. As she parried a swipe from his bolted hand, she found herself directly in front of his crossbow, which had been magically loaded. He fired a shot.

  Her ability told her to jump backward. It would slightly lessen the impact if she were moving in the same direction as the bolt. She needn’t have worried, though. The bolt tore a small hole in her shirt but disappeared upon contact with skin.

  Garret’s eyes widened. Aaliyah had a feeling he rarely missed his target. The amogh realized that if that bolt couldn’t hurt her, neither could the one in his hand. The only weapon he had to defend himself with was the crossbow.

  Unfortunately, he realized it too. Aaliyah noticed that Eleanor was sneaking up behind Garret with a knife taken from the dead messenger’s body. The Dark Angel pointed his crossbow up at Timothy and released a shot, at the same time flinging the one in his hand at Eleanor.

  The world seemed to slow for Aaliyah as her ability sharpened her senses. She knew, beyond any doubt, that both bolts were kill shots. She was near enough to jump in front of one of them, but there was no way for her to stop both.

  Her heart fell, but she had to make a decision within the moment or else both wizards would die.

  In the end, it was the tactical side of her brain that won. Timothy was a warlock with a Rakka steel sword. Eleanor had a small knife.

  The amogh made her choice and dove. She tossed Timothy the pouch Kyra had given her and took the bolt meant for him at the same time. Again, it ripped a hole in her shirt but nothing more.

  Aaliyah hit the dirt and looked up. The fighting and Timothy’s screams had become distant noise. All that mattered was the girl Aaliyah had chosen to sacrifice. Eleanor was looking at her stomach, where a single purple and black shaft protruded. The wizard girl looked at the amogh and mouthed two words.

  “Thank you.”

  Tears stung Aaliyah’s eyes. Eleanor had seen her choose Timothy. And she was grateful.

  The blonde girl slumped onto her side. She was dying. And Aaliyah had chosen not to save her.

  ***

  Timothy saw Aaliyah take the bolt for him. He saw a second one flying towards Eleanor. But, despite all his newfound magic, there was nothing he could do as the black and purple magic slammed into his best friend in the world. All he knew to do was scream as rage filled every part of his being.

  He caught the little bag Aaliyah threw at him, and felt massive amounts of magic flow into him. He raised his sword and channeled all of that power to his arms, chest, and back. He brought down the weapon with all of his might.

  Garret raised his crossbow to block the sword, but it couldn’t handle the sheer force of Timothy’s blow. The entire thing shattered into tiny bits of wood and metal. There was no trace of the strange magic anymore.

  Timothy swung the blade again and slammed it into the Dark Angel’s hip. His enemy screamed in pain and fell. As soon as Garret touched the ground Timothy tried to pull the sword free, but he couldn’t. Then he tried to let go, but it was as if his muscles had stopped working.

  The Dark Angel looked up at Timothy and smiled.

  “It’s time boy. Your fate is calling.”

  The flames drained from Garret’s eyes, leaving normal brown irises and black pupils. Timothy started to struggle as black and purple energy began flowing from Garret’s body into the sword, until it touched his hands.

  The young wizard fell to the ground next to Garret and screamed. His eyes felt like someone was stabbing them over and over with a hot fork. His mind grew numb.

  There, there, it will all be over soon, said a voice in his head. It hurts the most when we first touch.

  “Who are you?” Timothy yelled.

  I am Executioner, the Dark Angel’s weapon. And, as you have bested him in battle, I now belong to you.

  The sword finally ripped free of Garret’s body and Timothy’s pain started to fade. He looked down at the blade. It swirled with the same energy that had once covered Garret’s bow, and the pommel had a huge “E” inscribed on it.

  I must recharge my abilities from the void, and the only way to do that is to jump between worlds. I apologize, this will hurt. But it may be the most incredible thing a man can experience.

  Timothy felt excruciating pain grip every part of his body and screamed again. When he opened his eyes, he was in a different place.

  The wizard stood on shaky feet. Nothing here made sense. Wherever he was, it was night, but the stars were all completely wrong. And the moon, it was far smaller than it should have been. The boy looked down at his feet. He appeared to be standing on a path, but it was unlike any path the wizard had ever seen. It looked like one long black rock, stretching as far as the eye could see. Along the sides of the path, long metal sticks held up little glass houses. Inside was a light source that could only be magic, illuminating everything in soft yellow light.

  He heard a horrendous noise like a dying goose, and a massive armored … thing came roaring up the path. Timothy dove out of the way as it made that noise several more times and kept going. It almost looked like a carriage, but there was no horse and the wheels were completely wrong.

  “Hey, are you okay?” said a voice.

  Timothy looked up to see a young man looming over him. He wore a strange outfit made of a thin upper shirt and rough blue pants. He held a thin black box that glowed onone side.

  “What realm is this?” Timothy asked. “Where am I?”

  “Is this some sort of role playing game?” the strange boy asked. “Because I’m not interested.”

  Timothy shook his head. “No, no, no,” he said. “This is all wrong. I have to get to Eleanor. Where is she?”

  The boy stepped closer. He looked concerned.

  “Listen man, I’m Eli. I can help you find this Eleanor, but I need to know who you are. Do you have a phone or anything?”

  “You don’t understand,” Timothy said. “I have to get to her now.”

  The wizard reached out to grab this strange boy’s shoulders. The moment they touched, the pain seized Timothy again.

  I’m sorry. After this jump I will take you back, Executioner said.

  Timothy’s world turned white. When he opened his eyes, he was someplace else. The wizard stood on shaky feet. He was in a massive hall made of stone and glass. A single throne was situated in the middle of the room, about twenty feet away from where Timothy had appeared. Sitting on it was a short, muscular man with long black hair and blue skin. He wore a crown made from branches and leaves, and was guarded by two creatures that looked like elves. Only these elves were far more muscular than any Timothy had seen before. All three creatures looked very surprised.

  “Garret?” the blue man said.

  Timothy had never heard a tree talk, but he imagined that if one could it would sound like this man.

  “Where am I? Who are you?” Timothy asked.

  “You are in the great hall of Avalon, and I am Oberon, king of the faeries. Where is Garret? And why is the Dark Angel speaking in a tongue of Terra in my courts?”

  “I don’t … I don’t know,” Timothy grabbed his head in his hands. This was too much. Too much power. Too much pain. And Eleanor was still out there somewhere, bleeding out on the ground.

  “Guards, seize him,”
Oberon said.

  One of the elf creatures came forward to grab Timothy. The wizard didn’t resist.

  The moment he was touched Timothy fell into the white and the pain.

  “Take me back to Eleanor!” he screamed.

  The weapon obeyed. Timothy felt hard dirt underneath him, and when he opened his eyes he was right back where he had been when he fought Garret. The man was moaning, laying in a pool of his own blood.

  Timothy ran to Eleanor. Blood had soaked through the front of her shirt, but she was still conscious.

  “Saneo,” Timothy whispered. Heal. Nothing.

  I’m sorry, Executioner said. But my wounds cannot be healed. It is why I am the deadliest weapon.

  Timothy felt rage and anger fill him, but he knew the weapon was right. Not even the elves could save her. With tears in his eyes, he knelt down and scooped Eleanor up in his arms.

  “Take me somewhere,” he said. “Somewhere good.”

  Unsheathe me and slice the air. Imagine where you wish to be, and I will take you.

  Timothy hadn’t realized that the sword was now in a scabbard at his side. He drew it and did as it had commanded. A man-sized hole made of the same energy as the sword opened in front of him. He knew where he needed to go. He thought of the place and stepped through, Eleanor in his arms.

  When his foot touched the ground he was standing on his favorite place in the world, a small hill overlooking Fort Phoenix. There wasn’t anything particularly interesting about this spot, especially now that the fort was empty. It was what had happened here that made it special. Timothy gently sat down, cradling Eleanor like a baby.

  “Hey,” he said. “Do you know where we are?”

  The girl slowly raised her head. It hurt Timothy to see her in so much pain.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Our first kiss. It was here.”

  She settled back down in his arms and stared up at him.

  “Timothy, what’s wrong with your eyes?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said. “It’s just a trick of the light.”

  “Oh,” Eleanor said. She grimaced, and Timothy felt like a piece of him broke inside.

  They sat there in silence for a few seconds, trying to make every moment count.

  “Timothy, I’m scared,” Eleanor said.

  The young boy pulled her closer so that she couldn’t see him crying.

  “I know, Elly. Me too,” he said.

  Timothy, you have something you must say, or you will regret it for the rest of your life, Executioner said.

  As much as Timothy hated the weapon right now, it was right.

  “Eleanor, I love you. I love you so much, I—” He stopped. Her beautiful blue eyes stared blankly at the sky. His best friend in the world had stopped breathing.

  Eleanor was gone.

  ***

  Lief ran his hands through his hair for the fifteenth time in the past few minutes. He and his closest friends and councilors stood on the deck of the Ashdown flagship. The small party included Bartemus, Malachi, Jeremiah Gerang, Lennox Ashdown, and Rose Rune, among others. Considering everything Aidan had done for the nation, Lief had evacuated his small village first. Rose’s organizational skills had sped the process up considerably, so naturally the young king had hired her.

  Now they were all trying to figure out how to evacuate Allenna. The people of Argentah had hightailed it to the ocean at the first sign of trouble, and most of the small villages had been taken care of. Mawrick and Venorice, the two southern cities, were better defended and had easy access to the ocean, so they could be evacuated later.

  Allenna was the problem. There simply weren’t enough ships to move the entire population of the largest city in Gurvinite. And, as Rose had pointed out several times, even if they did manage to move the people, they would all starve when they got to Misehlos. The people who had already been evacuated were setting up farms and fisheries, but it would take months or even years to create a stable economy where most of the population wasn’t starving. By the rangers’ estimates, Gurvinite only had three weeks.

  “Three quarters of the city,” Rose said. “That’s all we can take. It will be difficult, but we can make it work.”

  “That’s cutting it very close,” Bartemus said. “And feeding that many people will be difficult at best. My sorcerers are already working as hard as they can to make more food out of what we have. We can’t do any more.”

  “We’ll have to use another ship for fishing, maybe this one. We won’t have any shortage of hands to braid nets,” Borin said.

  While they were talking, a small black dragon flew in from the mainland and gracefully landed on the ship. Lief immediately recognized it as a Mograck, the most magical of all the dragon breeds. Its rider jumped gracefully from her mount’s back and pulled off her black hood. Lief couldn’t help but grin when he saw Rebecca. After the Battle of the Isle, Rebecca had quickly assumed a leadership role amongst the dragon riders. She was a brilliant tactician and, though she rarely showed it, kind and compassionate. Lief would trust her with his life.

  “The Dragonback Range has fallen,” the young woman said. “I lost three riders and four dragons. The rest should be here soon, and we can help with the evacuation.”

  Rebecca looked and sounded as tired as Lief felt.

  “Right,” Bartemus said. “Malachi, Borin, and I will finish arranging the evacuation. We’ll aim for three quarters of the city. In the meantime, the rest of you should get some rest. It won’t do any good to have our king and his advisors pass out.”

  Lief nodded. He hadn’t slept in two days. Maybe three. It was hard to keep track. The king had turned and was about to return to his quarters when the air on the deck deadened. Jeremiah, Rebecca, and Borin drew their weapons as a purple hole appeared in the air.

  “What is that?” the dragon rider asked.

  Before anyone could answer, a figure stepped through, carrying another. Lief barely recognized the sorcerer he had sent to the Nefarious Lands. Timothy Ashdown was covered in blood. His eyes were completely black, with flames burning inside of them. At his side was a sword made of the same energy that he had stepped through. On the boy’s forehead were two angel wings. And in his arms was the limp figure of Eleanor Gerang.

  Jeremiah dropped his weapon and ran to his daughter.

  “No, no, no,” he said. “Come on baby, wake up.”

  “She’s gone,” Timothy said.

  Lief could practically feel the anger and sadness dripping off the young sorcerer.

  Lennox Ashdown came forward and hugged his son. Timothy did not return the embrace.

  “I must go,” Timothy said. “Aidan and the egg are safe. We shall return soon, but first there are some people I must deal with.”

  He turned to leave when Jeremiah caught his robe. Lief’s bodyguard was cradling his dead daughter against his chest.

  “The men who did this,” Jeremiah said. “Where are they?”

  Lief saw Timothy’s hands clench.

  “About to die a slow and painful death.”

  Timothy ripped himself free of Jeremiah’s hold and stepped back through the portal. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the mass of energy was gone.

  16

  Timothy stepped back into the town square. His body was acclimating to the wrenching process of traveling through the portals; it didn’t hurt as much as it had the first few times. The town was deathly quiet, as if even the birds knew of the life that had been taken here. Kyra was still unconscious. Aaliyah had tied Garret’s hands and was staring at the place where Eleanor had been shot. Timothy walked up to the former Dark Angel and pulled the man to his feet. Executioner had made him much, much stronger.

  “Why did you do it?” Timothy asked through clenched teeth.

  Garret smiled a sad sort of smile. He was much less intimidating without his power.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “You. You are the reason. I had to find someone who could take my place.”

  Timo
thy threw his foe to the ground.

  “Why me?” the warlock asked.

  “Because you are something rare, Timothy. A good man with darkness inside him. It’s easy to find a good person with light inside him. Just look at that amogh over there. She thinks she’s dark, but she has no idea what it’s like to actually enjoy touching the black. Evil men with darkness inside of them are everywhere in this dimension. But you … you are something else.”

  “I’m not like you,” Timothy said.

  “Of course you are,” Garret replied. “I touched your soul when Executioner left me. Tell me, boy, how did it feel when you were possessed by that goblin? You know they cannot take someone with a pure soul, don’t you? And isn’t there a small part of you that wants that darkness back? Well I’ve given you something better. Something vastly powerful.”

  Timothy unsheathed his sword.

  “I’ll kill you,” he said.

  “Oh I have no doubt,” Garret said. “It is a rite of passage for every Angel. Just remember, boy, that your new friend will show you what you want to see. She will promise you everything you could imagine, but she is just a weapon. And if you let her, she will consume you as she consumed me. Now get it over with. I’m in pain.”

  Timothy raised his sword.

  Stop, Executioner said. Death would be too kind, and he is not the only one responsible for Eleanor’s demise. You must find the rest.

  Timothy lowered his weapon. She was right. The young warlock reached into Garret’s pocket and pulled out his communication crystal. He could feel the magical signatures of thirteen different people, and with the signatures, names. Some were sorcerers, some were not, but he memorized them all. He didn’t recognize most, but the nearest was familiar—a wizard he had felt in Argentah.

  “How many voted to have Eleanor killed?” Timothy asked.

  “All but Malcommer,” Garret answered. “I hope you do those worms justice. They deserve no mercy.”

  “No,” Timothy said. “And neither do you.”

  The new Dark Angel whistled. As he did so, he felt Executioner’s power course through his veins.