Rise of Phoenix (2 page)

She had no choice but to pull it out and heal up the wound as she went. It would be slow and painful, but it was the only way she was sure he would be safe.

“This might hurt,” she whispered.

“That’s ok,” said Ash, through gritted teeth and already sweating from the pain.

She slid her hand under his body armor and tunic, in order to get to the flesh, holding her hand right over the wound. With the other hand she grabbed hold of the end of the arrow.  He cried out as she touched it, but she knew this was just the start of it.

She took a deep breath and began to chant. She felt the healing energy moving into him.  The earth around her was rich with life and magic, and she was drawing the power up through the earth and straight into his wound.  

Then slowly she began to pull.

He screamed in agony. She was sure the other Guardians would be able to hear him, even at this distance, but she had no choice.

Slowly, she drew out the arrow, tearing through his flesh and healing as she went. She knew this was far from what she had been taught and she felt his pain as he writhed underneath her. But she had to keep going, had to draw out the full extent of the arrowhead. 

She felt the arrow tip beneath her fingers, and found that it was just below the surface of the skin.  She gave it a firm tug and it left his body.  She yanked it through his armor and threw it aside. With both hands on the wound she continued to chant until the skin beneath her fingers was completely healed.

Exhausted, she took her blood soaked hands away.   Ash lay breathing heavily, staring up at the sky.

“How does it feel?” she asked.

“Better,” he said and forced a smile.

“Good.” She smiled back. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, you’ll need to rest.”

“I’ll rest when this is over,” he replied, but his head fell back to the ground and he stared up at the forest canopy, his hand over the healed wound.

Serafin forced herself to her feet. She wasn’t used to raw healing; she usually relied on potions and spells and she’d certainly never had to deal with a battle wound before. She needed time to rest as well, but she still had to heal the dactyl.

Its great body was slumped on the ground. It looked at her with huge black eyes as she walked towards it. People often referred to them as dumb beasts, but she felt she could see a personality, a spirit within those eyes.

She patted it gently on the head to calm it before she walked around to its back. Two arrows stuck out vertically.  There was a little blood, but not as much as with Ash.  She could see that the thick hair and leathery skin of the dactyl had prevented the arrows from going too deep. The best way to deal with this would be quickly.  She grabbed the end of the arrow and yanked.

The dactyl roared in pain and buckled, but she pressed her hand against the wound and as she chanted, it began to calm. As soon as she finished the first, she pulled out the second and, feeling better, the dactyl rolled itself onto its feet, struggling to stand. As it did so, he could see that the soft skin of its wing had been torn through.

It had started to trust her and didn’t pull away as she reached out and touched the open wound on the wing.  Gently, she whispered the chant and the skin started to repair itself.

As she finished, the dactyl rubbed its head against hers.

“I think he likes you.”

She turned to see Ash, already on his feet, leaning against a tree and watching her. She smiled and turned back to the dactyl.

“We can’t just keep calling him ‘it’, we have to think of a name,” she said rubbing the fur on its head.

“A name?”

“Surely, even the Guardians have names for their dactyls.”

“It’s not encouraged…”

“But?” she said, knowing he hadn’t always adhered to the guidelines.

“But,” he continued, “we
did
sometimes call this one Phoenix.”

“Phoenix?”

“His mother was a fire breather, and she died while having him, so somehow it seemed right…”

“Phoenix,” she whispered, “I like it. How are you feeling?” she asked, turning back to Ash.

“Better,” he said, trying to stand without leaning on the tree. “I think we could get going. I want to get there before sundown.”

Serafin’s stomach turned, she had almost allowed herself to forget where they were heading.

“Good,” she said, forcing a smile, “I think we’d better avoid flying.  They could see us for miles.  We should probably just ride.  What do you think?”

“I agree,” said Ash, as he marched forward and heaved himself up on to the dactyl’s back. She noticed him wince as he took the reins, but he said nothing, and he put his hand out to help her up on to the saddle behind him.

The dactyl was eager to go and they took off at a gallop through the forest.

It was in the same meadow as always.

Just outside the little market town, close to the river which made its way through the valley, beyond the foothills and out to sea.

Ash suggested they leave the dactyl to roam in the woods and fend for itself for a while. It was a conspicuous beast to be seen with and Ash still had the pipes to whistle for it if need be. So at the edge of the woods they dismounted and made their own way down the mountain path towards the meadow, where Serafin could just make out the caravans all lined up together.

There was a cold chill in the air and the clouds were low on the other side of the valley, it wouldn’t be long before the mist would fall. But behind the clouds, the sun was hot and its rays pierced through, dancing in the valley below them.

Serafin hadn’t laid eyes on this valley for years and the memories swelled in her stomach as she thought of running through these hills. The view was exactly the same as when she’d left. Not a house, not a wall, not even a blade of grass had changed.

The circus looked as though it had only just arrived, perhaps the night before. The caravans were neatly assembled and the horses were loose in the pasture, while she could just about make out all the show people rallying around to put up the huge colorful tent. 

She wondered if it would be all the same people, how would they have changed in the past decade? Had anyone new taken their places?

She reached out and took Ash’s hand, suddenly feeling nervous about meeting them all again, about how they were going to react to seeing her. She wished she could have sent a letter, or a message, warning them of her arrival.

She had missed them.

The first year away, she remembered being filled with joy at her freedom and her new purpose in life, but she had still carried the stigma of being one of ‘them’ with her. She had been able to shrug it off at first, thinking that she would soon be accepted amongst the other novice healers at the Abbey, but it became clear that they would always consider her an outcast.  She would never really belong anywhere. It had been a lonely time and she had craved the company and community of the travelling circus.  Only her friend Gaia, and then Ash, had seen her for who she was and not what she had been.

“I haven’t been to a circus in years!” said Ash, sounding like an excited child.

“Neither have I,” admitted Serafin.

He turned to look at her.

“You mean you haven’t been back?”

“No,” she said shaking her head slowly.

“In ten years you never once went home?”

She shrugged.

Ash was surprised.  He turned back to look at the people running around the circus field, rushing about their business and preparing for their first show of the season. Serafin wondered how they would react to seeing them turn up out of the blue, after she had been away for so long.

Gradually, the mountain path evened out and they followed the trail as it ran alongside a dry stone wall and came to the entrance of the meadow.

No one had taken the slightest notice of them; people from the town would often rush out excitedly and watch the circus people preparing for their show. It was odd for Serafin to be on the other side for once.

She suddenly had a desire to run, to run back up the mountain path, find Phoenix and ride away as fast and as far as she could. She gripped Ash’s hand tighter, and he smiled at her reassuringly.

She couldn’t go back, she couldn’t face them.

Perhaps they could find somewhere else to hide, some other way to slip out of sight of the authorities. Perhaps they could take Phoenix across the ocean. She’d heard of people that had made the journey on the back of a dactyl.  It was rare, but possible. Although she had to admit that no dactyl had made it with two people on its back.

“We don’t have to go in,” said Ash.

She ran through the other possibilities but she knew that this was the best option, the only option. She and Ash had to hide and to be safe, hidden away from the Guilds with the other outcasts; outcasts who may be able to help her in her quest.

“Yes, we do,” she said.

She let go of his hand and took a deep breath, stepping over the threshold and into the meadow. Ash followed, a pace behind, allowing her to take the lead.

She stopped dead when she saw her old caravan. It was parked in the same position it always was, always the same place, between the ringmaster’s caravan and the acrobat’s. The same old caravan, repainted and repaired, but nevertheless it was the same old green, with the same old red roof, she could even pick out the little painted flowers around the door and along the side of the little stepladder leading up to it. 

“I’ll wait here,” said Ash, gently prompting her to keep moving.

She wanted him to come with her, she wasn’t sure she could do it alone, she wasn’t sure she could do it at all.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

She felt sick.

She rested her hand against the steps and closed her eyes, breathing deeply, then walked up to the little door and stepped through.

“Sorry, this is a private—” it took her father a moment to recognize her. He stood staring at her open-mouthed.

He had changed very little over the years. He still wore his long red hair in a ponytail and didn’t allow his beard to grow beyond a week. He was a tall man with piercing green eyes.  She had forgotten those eyes.

Her mother turned to see what had stopped her husband in his tracks. Her headscarf was down, and Serafin could see that her dark, black hair was starting to grey. She stood when she saw Serafin, her bright colored robes swept around her dramatically.

“Serafin?” she said slowly.

The memory of her mother’s voice affected her more than she had thought. It would.  She couldn’t speak. She simply nodded and her mother rushed forward and took her into an embrace, clinging to her and kissing her forehead.

“You came back! Oh my darling sweet Serafin! You came back!”

Her father didn’t move, so her mother turned to him and pulled him forward.

“Look, Titus, it’s your daughter! She’s come home.”

He nodded but he didn’t smile. Serafin waited, as if for hours, for him to speak, to say something, to recognize her.

“Why have you come?” he asked finally.

Serafin tried to answer, but her body prevented her from doing so.

“Does it matter, Titus? She’s come home. She’s come home.” Her mother hugged her again. “Come with me,” she said pulling her from the caravan.

Serafin caught a glimpse of her father as they left. She couldn’t read his reaction, and couldn’t tell if he was angry or just surprised.

Suddenly, she was being pulled across the meadow as her mother called out manically to everyone, and people looked around, curious as to what had excited their fortune teller.

They gathered eagerly as they realized who Serafin was. She began getting hugs from all quarters.  She didn’t recognize many faces, and she had never known there to be so many children as part of the troop.  She tried to remain polite, but couldn’t help looking back to her father, still standing at the door of their caravan.

“And who is this?” her mother asked suddenly.

Serafin turned to see Ash standing awkwardly just at the edge of the crowd.

“Oh this is Ash!” she said, “Ash Pallamore, a Knight of the Guardian Guild.”

 The crowd all turned as one to see him and he shifted uncomfortably under their gaze, nodding politely as they greeted him and some began to shake his hand

“He helped me escape,” continued Serafin, without thinking.

“Escape!?” said her mother, worry in her voice.

Serafin looked at her.  She didn’t think it would be a good idea to get in to the details of what had happened just yet.

“It’s a long story,” she said, “I’ll tell you later.”

“What are you doing here?”

Serafin didn’t recognize the voice, and turned to see who had spoken.

It was a young, dark haired man, whose chest was bare.  He wore the tight fitting trousers of a trapeze artist, but as Serafin looked at his scowling face, she recognized the boy she had once known and her stomach tightened.

“Cassius,” she whispered.

“You had no right to come back here,” he growled.

Her mother stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm.

“It’s all in the past.  Let it be.”

“Your daughter brought shame on us, Pythia.” he said, throwing her arm off “She denied us and became one of
them
.  She should never be accepted back here.” As he stepped towards Serafin, she was frightened, but held her ground.

“Leave her!” demanded Ash, wading through the crowd, his voice suddenly hard with authority. He held his hand on the hilt of his sword, and stepped in front of Serafin. “I have sworn an oath to protect all Healers.  If you have any quarrel with this woman, then you must come through me.”

“Your oaths are worth nothing here Guardian.” Cassius said, walking forward and standing a clear half foot over Ash’s slighter frame. “
I
have authority over this woman.”

Ash looked from Serafin to Cassius, clearly confused.

“By what right do you have authority over Serafin?”

“By right of matrimony,” he said, “Serafin is my betrothed.”

She found Ash by the river.