Chapter Sixteen: Phoenix Rising

 

Chapter Sixteen: Phoenix Rising

Huntress Camp

Sarya’s tent

Arcaena felt a rush of about twenty different emotions: anger, fear, surprise, happiness, sadness, regret, to name a few. All of them wanted to tumble out so badly, but she forced herself to maintain her precarious composure.

“I…I have so many questions I want to ask, but I have no idea where to start.” Sarya, or rather Tywana, sighed, putting her head in her hands.

“I may not be able to answer you the way you would like, my daughter. I suppose the proper place to start would be an apology. You are close to thirty now, yes?”

“About twenty-seven,” Arcaena answered.

“Your sisters and father?” Her mother asked. “They are well?”

“Yes.” Tywana nodded.

“No thanks to me,” she said bitterly. “I am sorry. Truly. I should have been there for you. For all of you.” Arcaena nodded, stepping closer.

“Why did you not come back? I cannot help but ask.” Tywana raised her face to meet her daughter’s eyes. The young elf noted the tear stains on her mother’s eyes in the fading light.

“I had no other choice,” Tywana said. “After the fight with the dragons, I was left alone in the wilderness. Wandering, scared, without anywhere I could go or anyone I could trust. The Huntresses found me then.”

“Telara?” Arcaena asked, incredulous. “Mother, how could you? You would choose that witch over your own family?” Tywana shook her head.

“I had no choice,” she said, throwing her hands up in a half-hearted gesture of misery. “I needed somewhere to go and something not eat, and they provided both. At the time, I was certain the Huntresses would have killed me if they knew that I was an elf.” Understanding dawned on Arcaena’s face for the first time as her eyes went to the scarred tissue on her mother’s ears.

“You cut them…” she whispered finally. “You cut your ears…” Tywana lowered her eyes.

“Even if I could have escaped them, there was no way that I could face your father like this. Ear-cutting is one of the worst crimes an elf can commit, and for me to do so essentially meant renouncing all of you. And I could not bear for your father to see that I was willing to turn my back on our heritage to stay alive.”

Arcaena shook her head. “You think that I care about ears?” She asked incredulously. “What difference do you think that conventions make to me?”

Tywana stared at her. “Pardon? You are a princess, Arcaena. A king’s daughter. Convention, whether or not it strikes you as useless, matters. Why would you believe that it does not matter?”

Her daughter stopped, realizing what she was saying. “I…” she lowered her eyes. “I would rather not say.” Tywana looked at her.

“Are you sure?” She asked. “It might help.” Arcaena sighed.

“No, it would not,” she answered. “I have no desire to widen the number of knowing people.” Her mother nodded.

“Very well,” she answered. “Do you have anything else you want to say? To ask?” Arcaena nodded.

“Yes,” she answered. “I want you to leave the Huntresses. Please, you need to come home with me. I want to be a family again.” The other dark elf shook her head.

“I cannot,” she told her daughter. “Your father could not accept me, even though his heart would compel him to do so. That decision is one that he would never forgive his making, and I cannot bear that thought on my conscience.”

“But our family…” Arcaena began. Her mother shook her head.

“Our family has survived my absence. Look at you, my daughter; you are grown, and more beautiful than I ever was. You are strong, you are bold, and you are wise. That is something that makes me proud, but it also saddens me to know that you became so without me. I would have liked to see you grow, to watch you mature into the woman that you are now. And I would have liked to be near your daughters to help them to be strong in their own ways. But that is not the path I chose, and it is lost to me now. There is nothing to say but that I am sorry and farewell. Tell no one what you have seen this night, daughter. It will save us both trouble and pain.”

Arcaena’s eyes filled with tears. “Again with the leaving, and again with lies!” She suddenly burst out. “Why does everyone want to leave or for me to leave them? Why do all the people…” She stopped again. “Sorry, Mother. I…”

“It is a man, is it not?” Tywana asked. “That is what is bothering you?”

“No,” she answered. “I have come to terms with that now. It is just…people abandon me. I am, as you suggest, interested in someone. His name is Carsten and, though he is far from handsome to look at, he has a good heart. In fact, he faced down a dragon for me. More than once, I have seen him in action. He is brave, and selfless, and capable. He is also willing to suppress his feelings if it means doing someone else even the smallest amount of good.”

“And he told you of this?” Her mother asked.

“No…” Arcaena replied. “He refused to talk about it at all. I heard about it from a friend. In fact, he neglected to mention the dragon at all. The part about not doing what he felt was right he confessed whenever I told him my father would not approve.”

“Interesting…” Tywana murmured. “A dwarf, I assume?” Arcaena nodded.

“He is. A Brownbeard, if you can believe it. Of noble blood, although that does not mean much in the way of prestige.” Tywana shook her head.

“What does it matter? Unacknowledged royalty is still royalty. He is a suitable match by that standard. Why do you say your father would dislike him?”

“He bears royal blood, but he does not conduct himself as a nobleman. He acts in every way as a common man, or rather dwarf. He lacks the sophistication that Father would expect.”

“A commoner made royal is not a bad thing, or vice versa,” her mother answered. “Come now. He loves you, and you love him. Do not look beyond what you have now, if you want my advice. You fear your father’s judgment? You need not. Give him time; he will recognize how you feel. Now, it looks like your friends have finished with Telara. You should go.”

“But will I see you again?” Arcaena asked. Tywana shrugged.

“Maker willing,” she answered. “And who knows? We may see one another again, daughter. I look forward to watching you grow, and I will be watching you, even if you cannot see me.”

Arcaena nodded. “Very well.” She stopped at the tent, feeling her eyes stinging again. “Goodbye, Mother.” Tywana watched her daughter go, and then went back to sharpening her knife.

“Goodbye, Arcaena,” she whispered.

Carsten stepped out of the command tent, his every nerve buzzing. He was in stunned disbelief that he had just done and witnessed. Telara’s attempt to kill him had been expected, but his capacity to stop it had not been foreseen. Also, he had not believed that, even after she had seen what he had done for her daughter, she would want him killed.

“Carsten…” It was Thomas, right behind him. “Carsten, what are you doing?”

“Leaving,” he answered. “We did what we came to do, and we have no interest in remaining here. I say we clear out as soon as may be. The last thing we need is more trouble.”

“Agreed,” Mycal said, slipping out from under the flap of the tent with Rolf close behind her. “These women frighten me. I am reasonably assured that they had a role in our…family troubles, and I have no desire that they get involved again.”

“We should go,” Carsten told them. “Just as soon as…”

“Here I am,” Arcaena said, appearing from the right side of the tent. “Sorry about that. I thought I recognized that Huntress from somewhere. As it turned out, I was wrong. Are you all ready?” Carsten looked back at the tent and caught Telara’s eye. There will be another time, boy. Not today, but it will come, she mouthed. He smiled. After losing that power play, she wanted another fight. She had persistence, he acknowledged, but no the intelligence that made it dangerous.

            Bet on it, he answered. Aloud, he said, “Let’s go. I like this place less every minute.”

            Haven

            That night

            They came through the shattered postern gate not long after sundown. Unlike when they had let, however, an entire crowd had gathered at the exit, waiting eagerly for them. Deyann was at the front of it, and the expression on his face conveyed extreme distaste. Carsten met the glare unflinchingly.

            “Where did you go?” The dark elf demanded. “We looked everywhere for you.”

            “We went to go fix our mutual problem,” the dwarf replied, folding his arms. “Telara has what she wanted, and she agreed to leave. That alone should be enough cause for at least no more angry stares.” Deyann shook his head.

            “You acted alone and without the elders’ approval. You went out to a force whose intentions you did not know, with the daughter of the most powerful ruler in the Outlands in tow. You could have been killed, and for all you know, she might have to. These actions are reckless and beyond foolish. I could put you on trial for this.”

            “With all due respect,” Arcaena said, speaking up, “he cannot die.” Carsten and Deyann turned to face her.

            “What?” They asked in stereo. Arcaena hesitated, but she continued to speak, feeling her nerves settle as she talked.

            “That mark on his arm,” she said, not exactly sure where the words where coming from. “It is called Valor’s Favor, and it is part of Aderach’s curse. The bearer can recover from any wound not dealt by the bearer of Perdition’s Seal, the second of the two marks. Because the Seal can only be acquired by bathing in the Pool of Creation, no Huntress can bear it. They would never have bathed in those waters, which makes him immortal to all their weapons.”

            “How do you know that?” Thalserr challenged. “You have no proof

            “Sorceress, remember,” she told him. “I can feel the magic that now courses through me. And the details of the curse…well, Aderach left a carving of the spell on a stone beside the pool. While my translation might not be exact, it should suffice.”

            “She speaks the truth,” Deyann said, turning to look at Thalserr. “But we had thought that the curse had lifted with the first two.”

            “First two?” Thalserr echoed. Carsten’s eyes went to the mark, and suddenly it dawned on him. He knew where he had seen the magical seal before.

            “I will explain later,” Deyann informed him. “I know that they speak the truth. It all makes sense now.”

            “What should be done with them?” Came a voice from the crowd. Gorme, the other member of the elders’ council turned to face them.

            “Until such time as we discern obvious wrongdoing,” he said, in as official language as he could use, “we will take no action.” Grumbling, the crowd dispersed. They had wanted an arrest, or at least a longer haranguing than had happened. After everyone was gone, Carsten shot Arcaena a strange look and turned around to walk out the gate again.

            “Wait just a minute,” Mycal protested. “It’s almost midnight. Where in heaven’s name are you going?”

            “Out,” he snapped. “I need some time to think.” Seeing Arcaena wanted to follow, he added, “Alone.” She stopped, her eyes wide and confused.

            “Carsten…” He shook his head.

            “Stay here,” he said. “Like Deyann said, you’re too important to lose.”

            “But can we not talk?” She asked. “I…”

            “You what?” He asked tersely, cutting her off. “Have something else to tell me that you neglected to share? Why didn’t you tell me about the mark? I’d have thought that would be important enough to share! ‘Oh, Carsten, aside from the water not searing you senseless, you also can’t die.’ Why not tell me?”

            “Because I had no certainty,” she replied. “I gambled that it was true with Deyann and his posse, but I could not tell you something that I did not know for certain.”

            He shook his head. “You could have at least shared what you were thinking.” And without another word, Carsten slipped through the gate. Arcaena looked at the others.

            “I have no regard for his outburst,” she told them. “He needs someone to talk to.” Mycal nodded.

            “Go. He does need you, now and always, whether or not you believe it.” The dark elf nodded and followed her friend out the gate.

            Outside Haven

            Carsten ran. He had no idea where he was running, nor why he was. But words and images were tearing through his mind, and the further away he pushed them, the clearer they became. He could see his great-grandfather, his blade raised above the Greencap leader’s head. He saw the weapon descend, only to slice through the Brownbeard’s son as he stepped in the way. Carsten saw his great-grandfather alone, dying of his own grief in self-imposed isolation. He saw his grandfather die at the hands of the Huntresses, saw them beating his father, and that did not stop them. No, they kept on. He had left the plain and was in a sparsely wooded area now, but he could not stop. He had to…suddenly, he felt an unseen force wrap around his ankle and yank his feet out from under him. He struck the ground, the wind driven from his lungs.

            “What…” he rolled over to see Arcaena behind him, her hand and eyes glowing green. When he could speak again, he simply said, “I thought I told you not to follow me.”

            “Not listening is one of my better traits,” she remarked. “I thought you might want to at least share with someone.” He nodded, slowly getting to his feet.

            “I couldn’t say that,” he told her. Carsten was almost glad that she had stopped him, because he wanted to say something. And it seemed that it had stopped his visions. “but it would be nice for you to at least listen.”

            “So,” she began, “What seems to be the trouble?”

            “Everything,” he told her. “Edessa’s gone, starlight. Gone for good. You have to leave soon, and Maker knows when or if I’ll see you again. And now, before you even leave, you tell me I have this mark that means Maker knows what. Plus, I’m seeing things now. Images and events I shouldn’t remember by rights. Things I’ve never even seen. And I don’t know why.”

            Arcaena nodded. “And that bothers you?”

            “Wouldn’t it upset you?” he asked.

            “It does,” she answered. Carsten blinked.

            “What?” He asked. “You mean…”

            “I…” she stopped, her eyes dropping to the ground. “Ever since Issavea’s castle, I have seen things that I cannot remember, things that look and feel like they have yet to happen.”

            “Farsight,” Carsten whispered. “Maker have mercy, you’re farsighted? Arcaena…” he stepped close and took her hand. “You could have told me. It’s not something to be afraid of. Not something to share, maybe, but it’s a good thing. It makes you special.”

            She shook her head. “My people despise the farsighted. They say we are nothing better than diviners.” Carsten shook his head.

            “But you aren’t,” he said. “The ability developed itself without your help or consent. You had no part in it, and so you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

            “But it makes me different,” she protested. “It marks me for a fate I never wanted.”

            “The same with this,” he said, rolling up his sleeve and holding up the white-glowing mark. “I don’t want to be some immortal hero, but you said that this is how things are supposed to be. Neither of us wants this course of action, just like neither of us wants to leave the other. But life’s not asking what we want, starlight. We have no choice; if we plan to live at all, we have to live by these rules. We’ve been given gifts along with responsibilities, but the tasks set before us shouldn’t make us lose sight of what we have been given.” She stepped forward and wrapped him in a tight hug.

            “I suppose the both of us have our problems to face,” she whispered. “Why do we always end up crying when we talk?”

            “Because,” Carsten said. “We’re nothing but a mess. And that we’re willing to share in that mess with each other is the essence of what this relationship is. We each help the other to handle something they can’t figure out on their own. We might not be there every time, but we’re there when it counts.” She nodded, letting him go.

            “I wish I did not have to go,” she murmured. “I wish this is the way it could always be.” Carsten shrugged.

            “Maybe,” he said. “But life without problems isn’t the way things are meant to be.”

            “No,” Arcaena said. “If there were nothing to overcome, we would never improve.” He nodded.

            “Exactly.” Turning, he looked out into the distance at Haven’s lights. “When were you planning to leave?” He asked. She shook her head. In truth, she had given little thought to her departure. Secretly, she had hoped that Carsten would let her stay with him in Haven. She also had a few parts of her that wanted to get married now, believing it better to ask forgiveness of her father than permission.

            “Sometime in the next week,” she told him. “I mean it this time.” He nodded.

            “All right,” he said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you. Listen to whatever it is you keep seeing. You know, to help you through it.” She smiled, feeling a few tears pushing at her eyes.

            “I would like that,” she said. “Got some time?” He pointed to the sky.

            “All night,” he answered. “Let’s hear it.” She sat down on a log, and he sat next to her, waiting patiently. Slowly, the dreams came out, a jumbled and confusing mess. Carsten listened for a solid half hour to her story, his head nodding in agreement or his hand going up to indicate he had a question. He asked her several times to describe things more clearly, which she did as best she was able. After she finished, he put his hand on her shoulder.

            “You said you didn’t recognize anything you saw?” He asked. She shook her head.

            “Not a thing,” she replied. “How bad is it that I cannot even understand the visions I have been given?”

            “Not bad at all,” Carsten answered. “Lack of comprehension means the dreams are nowhere near coming true. I’d advise you to write them down, but don’t lose sleep over them. If this is a gift, it’ll make sense eventually.” He rubbed the mark as it took on a red hue. “This did.”

            She put her hand on his shoulder now. “You know that means that you are a hero, right?” Carsten shook his head.

            “No,” he protested, his voice soft and pensive. “I’m not. I’m no hero, just someone who wants to do the right thing as best he can.” She leaned forward and kissed the top of his head.

            “You are a hero, Carsten,” she said. “You might not see it now, but you will. Very soon, I believe, you will understand the destiny that has been set before you.” She was startled by a loud whooshing sound overhead, followed by a loud scream. Arcaena raised her eyes to the sky, and she was startled to see what looked like a shooting star streaking through the sky. Carsten had evidently heard it, too, because he rolled to his feet and drew one of his many knives. Seeing what it was, he snapped his weapon back into its sheath.

            “Pretty loud for a star,” he remarked. Arcaena shook her head.

            “That is no star,” she said. “Look at it; it moves far too quickly, and it is actually on fire. Shooting stars are much more uniform. It is something else, and it is falling fast.”

            “Worse,” Carsten said, “I think it’s falling at us.” Arcaena nodded.

            “I agree,” she said. “We need to move.” Even as they began to run, the dark elf could see that she and Carsten would never make it in time; the object was falling far too quickly. Carsten did not even move, fixated to the spot in fascinated shock. Arcaena saw that the object was about to strike them, and she covered her face, expecting a burning impact followed by death. After all, falling rocks were generally devastating in their effect. But at that moment, the falling object suddenly swerved, its path taking it beyond them and further into the forest. As the massive ball of fire reached the ground, Arcaena saw, or thought she saw, something moving inside it. The infernal sphere spun wildly, flames shooting out of it in all directions. All the while, she heard, or thought she heard, that same high-pitched screaming sound. The sheer head behind it was amazing, but it looked like it was quickly burning itself out. Several trees in its way flew like matchsticks, and those that remained kindled into brilliant orange flames. After rolling for seven minutes, the object came to a seeming stop about fifty meter from them, depositing itself in an impromptu crater of its own making. To her ears, the screaming had stopped completely, replaced by an ominous silence. Carsten stared at Arcaena.

            “What was…” she shook her head.

            “I surely do not know,” she answered. “And I have no desire to find out.” Carsten shrugged.

            “Suit yourself,” he replied. “For my part, I want to know what it is, or was.” The dark elf put a hand on his shoulder.

            “I would advise against it,” she said. “It would be imprudent.” The dwarf smiled at her.

            “Perhaps it’s my turn at that,” he told her. “If you’re not coming, at least don’t try talking me out of it.” He reached down and, drawing Sorrow’s Bite, cautiously advanced on the massive hole. As he drew closer, he noted a strange wheezing sound similar to breathing, only more labored. The sound did not change even as he approached, which told him that whatever was making it had not heard him or was in no condition to care. Carsten came to the rim of the crater, and he almost immediately slid to the center. There, at the epicenter of the blackened earth, was the largest bird he had ever seen, flames still licking the ground around it. The animal had at least a thirty-foot wingspan, and its talons looked razor-sharp. But those features were not what drew his eyes; no, it was the orange, red, and gold feathers and glowing green eyes that held his gaze. He had only read descriptions about such creatures, but he felt certain he was looking at one of the last Great Phoenixes. Unlike their lesser cousins, who grew to sizes similar to those of hawks, the Great Phoenixes could match many dragons in size and raw power, capable of breathing fire as well as generating it. Their naturally combustive exfoliation process made the species dangerous, but the Great Phoenix species could incinerate most beings with minimal effort. This one, however, seemed more occupied with the massive wound on its underbelly, from which its fiery orange blood was pouring. It looked as though it had been in a fight, but with what he did not know. The beast raised its head briefly, making eye contact with the dwarf. It said nothing, but its expression was such that he instantly understood.

            Well, do you plan on just standing around, or are you actually going to help?