The Phoenix Archer – Orion’s Legacy – Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – The Siege Jungle

“If it wasn’t for the Maytoni, the Poet’s Sea would never have been liberated. They put the pirate lords down not long after they moved in. They’re the reason we’re here today – why all nations of the Poet’s Sea are thriving.”

– Oakthei Mariner, General Sekani Kayode

The aftermath of the attack on the Gargoylian Fastness had hung over Alejandro like a portentous sign of things to come. The fastness, buried under rumble, sand, and dust, resembled a decrepit temple which had been lost for centuries. Bodies were recovered and organised. Then reinforcements arrived, Xelanite heavy infantry, Gargoyles, a thousand of them.

There had been a numb disbelief, teetering on the edge of Alejandro’s being, that in fact this new adversary had stolen his arrows and managed to escape. The feeling was tempered swiftly, though not without cold burn running through Alejandro which persisted.  

Most of the Maytoni honour guard had taken to walls, killed at the outset. Their commander had died first, which Maldwyn said was a mercy, given the ineptitude. Following the attack Alejandro and Aeker managed to find the message Evander had sent – and not too soon, as one unscrupulous Outrider had been burning messages to cover the evidence of their incompetence. Evander was correct, his message concise, but no less explicit. They had been warned. Ebrill to her credit had been managing the relations like a mother bringing squabbling siblings together, bringing order to the lunacy.

Then, within the coolness of their chamber, after tempers had burned themselves out, the Summiteers reorganised. Ebrill was present too. Organising the fallen had kept her mind and spirit focused, however, now she was on the verge of breaking down, a brightness, and wideness to her azure eyes like that of a weary, defeated animal.

During his travels, Alejandro had known many companions but had never held the kinship Ebrill had with Evander. Between his exile, return, disappearance, and the recent death of her older brother during the War of the Feathers, she had clearly reached a fault line in her soul. No one had the nerve to ask her to return to Maytoni, terrified of nudging her over this fault.

A plan had been developed, however. Maytoni command had sent a message to the fastness ordering Maldwyn to gather as much information on the remaining gargoyle as possible, whilst another Summiteer team was mobilised to find the Seal of Woe.

“Who?” Maldwyn had asked, his face still ashen, leaning over the table. Despite the caked blood of a head wound, the swath of paste from dust and sweat plastering his face, his stalwart composure held the group together. The man was a leader, right down to his inner most core, Alejandro thought, and even then, as one who had extensive worldly experience, knew there was plenty to learn from captain Maldwyn.

“Princess Sarah Haber, utterly insane, but she has a menagerie of singular… Pets, I want to say,” Aeker had replied. “Loves the unusual. If anyone knows anything about a diamond skinned gargoyle, it could be her.” Aeker coming up with something hopeful so soon seemed typical of the man, if contrary to his unfortunate origin in the vastness of the world. Aeker’s birthplace was an island nation in the Poet’s Sea, the Isle of Barcanis known locally as a cursed island, with a myth claiming that the land was been formed through the violence of a gigantic hydra, when two of its three heads went to war with one and other.

Of course, it got worse as soon as it got better. But Alejandro wasn’t about to think anything was going to be so easy. This mad princess held residence in the infamous Siege City, in Maytoni’s western neighbour of Jermirshia. For one thing, Maytoni were not welcome anywhere in Jermirshia, which was complicated enough. Yet Siege City held its own challenge, albeit a less discriminatory one. The city was a metropolis built within a jungle, and only accessible by a single underground tunnel. The growth of the jungle was so relentlessly aggressive and defensive it was impenetrable. Alejandro was, to some, small extent, excited by this news, however. He had never seen the place, or the jungle, and only wished there wasn’t such a horrific precedent.

After a few days travel, they had made it to the outskirts of the city and camped on the rise of a plateau with a vista of arid, cracked land before them. As odd a place as the western arid reaches of Jermirshia were to find a jungle, this all-consuming beast breeched the land in furious defiance of its barrenness.

It was late, and everyone was getting ready to bed down. By the fire, Ebrill sat, her cloaks caked in dust, her features hard, and aged, in contrast to the glowing youthfulness Alejandro has first seen in her not long ago.

Only Alejandro’s boots padding against the thin sand broke the quiet as he moved away from the others. Even the flames remained silent, as if in mourning with the pastoral. Without a word, Alejandro sat down next to Ebrill and opened his waterskin, taking a sip. He took his left hand, smeared with glassy, angry burn scars, dead to all feeling, and ran it through the flames before looking over the scared flesh.

“You and Ksenia have gotten cosier since we last met,” Ebrill said quietly, not taking her eyes off the fire.

Alejandro smirked. “Indeed. We met, both of us eighteen, a long time ago,” he jested, looking for anything close to a smirk on her face. “I was hoping to get money to pursue by hubristic goals and took work at a ship building yard. Ksenia had been working there for a few years already, sending wages back to her family’s sanctuary. She was gorgeous, I have to say, despite having just spat her ale out because she didn’t like the taste.” Ebrill did smirk at that. “I introduced myself, of course, as she was to be my boss.”

“And that was it, love?” Ebrill said, a voice softer than wilting feathers.

“She looked me up and down and said, ‘Gods give me strength’.” Ebrill’s smirk widened. “We parted ways later on; Ksenia took up piracy, she wanted to live the kind of life which is spoken of in myth, and I wanted to see the majesty of a phoenix.”

They were silent for a bit. Alejandro heard Ksenia, off to the side, apologising for something Blair had said, and Tara wanting to know what he was drinking.

“Tell me about your brother,” Alejandro finally spoke.

Morning came, and despite the clarity of the light, Maldwyn was not happy.

“No one is getting into that,” Alejandro said to himself as he ran his monocular over the colossal wall of jungle ripping into the aridness surrounding it. Every vine, trunk, bush, and branch seemed to twist and merge into one and other as the jungle was actively attempting to barricade its interior. He was amazed and horrified and wanted to reach out and touch the gigantic vegetative beast for himself, just to see if it was in fact one whole creature – it would be the first time he had encountered predatory plant life.

“Some mages, a hundred years ago tried to blast a road through the jungle using a dragon,” Maldwyn began. “The fumes from the burning jungle were so acrid that they melted everyone’s lungs… Even the dragon’s.”

Alejandro gave a half smirk. “And some mad twat built a city in there nonetheless… That’s not going to end well, is it?”

“Some people see nature and can’t stand not being able to tame it, or kill it, or just be out done by it.”

They were silent for a moment, only the shuffle of the other packing up rustling its way to their ears.

“They can’t know you’re Maytoni,” Alejandro said. None of the Summiteers wore any obvious uniform or insignias.

“I know, but they’re xenophobic, paranoid,” Maldwyn replied. “A volatile mix.” The man seemed like a parallel to himself, Alejandro noted. One for listening more than talking, with a nature born of the experiences of foreign cultures. They sat by the edge of the craggy lip to the plateau, scopes in hand and watching the only other structure in the desert; a round tower, smooth beige rock and gold metals, a few hundred feet tall. It fluttered like a mirage, as watery shimmers giving it the image of a partially painted artwork. It was stationed half a mile from the outskirts of the malicious jungle and within was the only lift for travellers to descend down.

“You know, I’m learning that the Maytoni have many enemies – your best kept secret.”

“The world has one image of us – which isn’t wholly embellished – but of course we have enemies. Who doesn’t?”

“No one I would trust.”

“The Jermirshians think they are living in a sort of purgatory, cut off from their gods. To gain the attention of their gods, they are always seeking out some ancient pilgrimage trail which brings them in force to our borders, or more turbulently, into the territory of our good friends, the Hasjin. We’ve had skirmishes, even open battles with them, but never had to declare war, thank the Gods… Anyway, we’re friends with the Xellcarrians again.” Maldwyn rose, patting Alejandro on the shoulder.

“Sounds like a bleak civilisation. At least most religions claim their god’s pay attention. To feel forsaken by the one thing responsible for your salvation must be a cold, bitter, anvil in the soul.”

They gathered with the others, most packing up their sleeping gear and enjoying the remains of their brews. Like their leader, the Summiteers wore nondescript garments, together giving the illusion of a hard-worn hunting party.

“They might not make you for Maytoni by your appearance, but they will if they have anyone who knows a thing or two about bows and arrows,” Aeker was speaking, looking to the exceptional craftwork of the Summiteer’s bows and arrows.

“I can’t image you’re eager to part with your bows, then?” Blair said to the group. Thus far he had managed to bring up the Saffet Massacre which saw the genocide of ork peoples several hundred years ago, and the horrific works of Sir Katler Muili, a knight from Iscano, one of the Crown States, who made living hunting orks and presenting their skins and other body parts in prejudicial stories to defame the race.

“What’s worse, getting caught out as Maytoni, or getting caught out as armed Maytoni?” Fiadh jested, kicking sand about, restlessly.

“We’ll just say we’re Outriders,” Esther added, rubbing her eyes. “The sun and I are not friends today.” She looked over her pale forearms as she grumbled, then looked to Blair.

“I have a spare mask and gloves if you wish,” Blair said, though Alejandro figured he was being sincere rather than making a joke.

“Maldwyn, I have an idea, if you’d like to hear it?” Alejandro added, moving over to Ksenia who was wearing a dress of glorious, silvery draig and cockatrice feathers, with emerald griffin feathers to match.

“Go ahead,” Maldwyn replied taking a mug from Kellen. The ork, if bothered by the reminder of his race’s unfortunate history, didn’t show it, only grunting, obviously aware that Blair’s blustering attempts at conversation were an attempt to catch-up on two hundred years of social progression.

“We’re here for information, simple enough. There’s no need for armed Maytoni to go in there. I’ll go with Aeker, get the information, and we won’t be a day,” Alejandro explained plainly. He wasn’t used to falling in line with authority types – in fact, he spent most of his life defying them. And, though not sure about his standing amongst the Summiteers, the last thing he wanted was to undermine Maldwyn.

“I like the sound of that,” Aeker concurred. “No need for any skulking about, much as we all enjoy it. I mean, Maldwyn, if Alejandro wasn’t here, I’d suggest the same.” Glad as he was that Aeker concurred, Alejandro could see on Maldwyn’s face that he wasn’t too happy about the plan.

“We don’t need another international incident, so soon anyway,” Tara added, her words always a pace or two quicker than everyone else’s.

“Which one are you referring to?” Kellen joked. “War of the Feathers, or Evey breaking jurisdiction in Wetsven?”

“Both involved Evey,” Esther said with mock suspicion. “Maybe he is a problem after all.” The Summiteers chucked, and Maldwyn grinned. Alejandro wanted to join in, but decided not to, just in case. It was their joke, if not an inside one.

“I don’t like it at all, but you’re right, Alejandro,” Maldwyn said in a low tone, exhaling his grief at the plan into the slight breeze. “But it’ll get this done faster anyhow.”

“I’d like to come to,” Blair added. “These Jermirshians like their magic, and being the undead, I’m immune to most. Could be an advantage.”

“Bet I could find something,” Tara remarked with a quick wink in Blair’s direction.

“Okay, the cannibal can go too,” Maldwyn added.

“Can I go, or would you feel better with a hostage staying behind?” Ksenia asked, facetiously.

“How much is The Lady of Feathers worth?” Tara joked.

“She wasn’t asking anyway,” Alejandro added. He was beginning to suspect that despite her intellect, Tara was rather insecure about her presence among the team.

“What’s the price for pastorals in there?” Ebrill asked, looking as if she had had the worst night’s sleep. Alejandro braced himself, holding his nerve, really hoping she wasn’t looking to come along.

“They’ll just expel you from the country,” Kellen answered. “They don’t like us, but they’re not stupid. They know harming a pastoral comes with brutal retaliation. The rest of us would be arrested, interrogated, and ransomed… Or traded.”

“Command would never acknowledge us,” Tara added, looking into the dirt she was scuffing up.

“I wouldn’t,” Fiadh chuckled, sharing a wry grin with the others.

“I’ll come too then,” Ebrill continued, and Alejandro noted that no one was willing to argue with her. “If this princess is unwell, then I may be able to help.”

“I heard mad,” Ksenia added. “Unwell is drinking too much the night before.”

“Either way, I’d like to be there.”

“Okay, then. Aeker, she’s in your care.” Maldwyn turned to Aeker, and Alejandro couldn’t help but look over the angry gash which glared from the young man’s temple.

“I did so well last time, didn’t I?” He sighed.

“Looks good,” Esther said nonchalantly. “Hopefully it’ll leave a scar, a mark of bravery.”

Ebrill squeezed his shoulder. “You threw yourself at a giant when he made for me. I think that’s more than brave.”

“Esther would have done the same, but her motives are suspect,” Fiadh quipped with a cheeky wink at her compatriot.

Clambering down the searing, jagged rocks was an arduous affair, though the Summiteers treated it like any morning walk. Sweat was keeping Alejandro’s silken shirt tight to him like a second skin. A night of turbulent nightmares wasn’t helping the strain either. The same damnable memories, played out in a scripted sequence Alejandro was helpless to alter in anyway. He cursed himself for being so simple minded, to fail to recognise that he was only dreaming, and to entertain the pain, terror, and loss all over again.

“So how did Alejandro Zaragosa become The Phoenix Archer?” It was Esther, the expert in magical forgeries. She had a hood up, to keep the sun from her pale skin.

“That’s a good question,” he sighed. Who did come up with that moniker? Orion? Another Flint Castle member? Couldn’t have been anyone in Dytrentia. “But I suppose not long after Eitimovel, when I felt a sense of direction for the first time in my life.”

They marched along, over the craggy ground, the occasional pocket of sand to ease their soles. Brightly coloured lizards scurried over miniature dunes. Most were no larger than a finger. Overhead a few mobs of crows loosed rusty caws and kept their distance from the larger buzzards and vultures. Occasionally one of the larger birds would swoop in to chase off another. Alejandro was watching the uneasy neighbours, wings stretched, darkened into silhouettes as they held onto the air currents. It soothed his spirit somewhat, the scenes almost hypnotic, helping to order his thoughts.

“Chasing phoenixes wasn’t your purpose?” Esther continued.

“Well, more a youthful fancy. I wanted to see one. I’d been enraptured by them since I was a child, as long as I can remember. It was a goal… I’d no idea how significant they would become.” He wondered how much the Summiteers knew about him – they had their ways; most he couldn’t figure out.

“Your legend, if I can call it that, first came to use about a decade ago. Rumours, hearsay, and such about an archer with phoenix arrows, somewhere in The Mane…”

“That’s impressive. Even Orion wasn’t sure if I’d survived Eitimovel.”

“You say that, but some of our best intelligence on you was stolen from him as he continued to investigate whether or not you survived. None of us could ever confirm your existence… And frankly our investigative resources are always over stretched, between the pirate lords looking to make a resurgence, the rags, the Jermirshians playing up from time to time.”

“To name a few.”

“To name a few,” Esther repeated, and chuckled.

“I heard a rumour once,” Alejandro began, watching a small glistening, iridescent scorpion emerging from a crack in the ground. “Not long ago, about a Siege Breaker falling into the hands of a premier of the Reywhern New Right Republic…” He let his voice trail off for effect. Siege Breaker bows were famous through many histories and myths as a bow which retained the power of a vengeful army. They were also nigh on impossible to make.

“I can’t imagine anyone in the New Right wanting a bow, even one as powerful as a Siege Breaker. They’re too much in love with their big, bulbous guns.”

Alejandro continued anyway. “Well, it’s been alleged the bow this premier held was a forgery, designed to embarrass him and make the New Right look weak.”

“I think I recall the story. When he released the string the force of the bow was thrown against him, leaving bits and pieces raining down.”

“It’d take a real specialist in magical engineering to build a bow capable of even that…”

“I can neither confirm, nor deny.”

Alejandro had to admit that playing this – frankly juvenile – game, gleaning what secretive information he wasn’t entitled to, tickled him.

“But speaking of bows of myth…” Esther shifted the conversation smoothly. “Yours is clearly a long-lost relic… I don’t think you made it yourself, it looks too old.”

Alejandro felt the weight of the bow on his waist as it lay in its quiver. It was a recurve design, built of unknown woods, animals hides and horns.

“What have you named it?” Esther continued.

Alejandro was silent for a moment, then answered. “I never gave it a name. When I first found it, I just knew in my soul that it already had one…”