Wings of a Phoenix

*CRASH*

Two large men had been thrown onto a table, knocking off several tankards of ale which stood upon it. With a groan, one of the two men regained his footing.

“YOU GOT A LUCKY H-*hic* Y’GOT A *hic* LUCKY HIT!”

The man, after finishing his insult, smiled and passed out, falling over, landing on his unconscious friend.

“Well. That was interesting...”

The winner sat down at the bar

“Barkeep! I’ll take a flagon of your finest!”

“Phoenix Black! It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you in here.”

Phoenix looked at the barkeep and nodded. “That it has Debs.”

The barkeeper sighed .“My name, is Debriks.”

Phoenix chuckled and raised his hand as a peace offering. “Sorry, forgot you didn't like that nickname.”

Debs placed a tankard in Phoenix’s outstretched hand

“Just take your drink and shut up,” he said jokingly.

“You’re getting rusty. I can’t believe they hit you,” a deep voice commented.

Even if they weren’t drunk Phoenix would have been able to handle them without a problem. And, if you ignore the minor setback at the beginning, the thugs hadn’t touched him.

“It wasn’t so bad...” Phoenix said defensively.

The man to Phoenix’s left had a smirk painted across his face. “You really could have avoided all of that, but you had to retaliate. Insulting his mother was never gonna to go down well with ‘em, and really Phoenix!? A chair to the face? You could have dodged that. I know I would have done.” the smirk now growing to a full on grin.

“Dimitri. It would have to hit the floor, for it to even have a chance at hitting you... and need I remind you that for the past fifteen minutes, you have been attempting to get the barmaid to fall for you? And, may I also add that you got rejected multiple times, by that same barmaid?” Phoenix retorted with false seriousness.

“She’ll come around. They always do,” he said confidently with a gulp from his mug.

Dimitri then set the mug down, having finished its contents. They had arrived back at the capital after being away on a campaign with their mercenary band, the ‘Black Blades’. The campaign had been a long one, even for the standard that they were used to. They were protecting a noble on a tour from one end of the country to another; he said it was to maintain good relations with the other capitals. However, the amount of time he spent in the multitude of taverns convinced Phoenix that this was not the case. They had been gone for almost a year, and in the rapidly developing city to which they returned, that time was enough for many changes to have occurred. They had taken an hour simply to find their favourite tavern.

“Hey there honey, I’ll take the same again please!”

“Of course and don’t call me honey, ok?” the barmaid swiftly responded.

“She’ll come around, they always do” Phoenix responded mockingly.

Many of the eyes, once pinned to Phoenix, now began to wander and disperse. One man, however, recognised these two men and his eyes remained locked on the duo. Having observed them from afar, he realised they were acting extremely out of character.

Phoenix Black... Joking? Dimitri Bennett.... flirting?

He was once a mercenary in the Black Blades, and noticed that Phoenix was usually a very aggressive and serious man, whilst, although more prone to sarcasm, Dimitri was extremely religious and more reclusive. The man came to the conclusions that they had either had a life changing experience, or they had perfected the art of separating their work lives from their social lives.

Back at the bar Phoenix had finished his drink and turned to Dimitri,

“I suppose we had better head to the armoury while we’re here.”

Dimitri downed the last of his pint and heavily set the empty mug on the table. He then picked up his war-hammer and stroked the metal face, feeling all the dents and scratches, digging up the memories of a hundred battles.

“I think you may right.”

The two companions got up off their stools and headed out the doors. When they stepped outside every eye in the alley turned towards them. The faces of the crowd had mixed expressions of fear, shock and curiosity, after all it is not very often you get two  warriors so unlike each other travelling along back alleyways.

The first was the tallest man they had ever seen, at least at least seven foot tall. His bleach blonde hair reached down to a set of broad shoulders. His ash grey eyes, seemingly alive with dark clouds, made his gaze seem like the calm before the storm. On his back sat a huge pole almost as big as he is. The once beautiful blade on the end, unusable as it had been shattered by some unknown force. He wore thick steel armour over his entire body, with two large wings engraved with amazing precision onto his shoulder plates. Over his armour the man wore a white tunic, and on the centre a simple black axe had been woven into the fabric.

His partner was almost the complete opposite; at full height he came up to the giants ribs, carrying an old broken war hammer in his right hand. Despite his size he was a menacing thing to look at. His unkempt black hair and roughly trimmed beard gave him a roguish charm. His blood red eyes, flaring, as if the fires of hell had been contained within them resemble that of demons. In his left hand, Dimitri held an exotic helmet that looked similar to a rhino’s head; it had an elongated mouthpiece, a foot long horn coming out of the nosepiece. Underneath a tunic identical to his friends, the man wore black Chainmail.

“Hey. Dimitri.”

The dwarf looked up at Phoenix.

“Do you remember where the blacksmith is?”

The short man sighed.

“Just follow me...”

The two men turned left and started walking further down the alleyway leading towards a main street eventually they reached a crossroad. In front of him Dimitri could hear the sweet music of a hammer ringing metal, but under that he could also hear the faint yells of men and muted thuds of a sound that was very familiar to the both of them. Dimitri stopped.

“Phoenix, I remember the blacksmith being up here but I don’t remember any training grounds around here.”

“We did get here pretty early, and the blacksmith was shut. But I would have thought you’d notice that it was built at the back of a school.”

“D’you reckon we could have a bit of fun after we visit the smith?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The two of them walked into the smithy and were greeted happily by a thickly muscled man in a brown apron and a hammer in his left hand. He greeted them in a deep almost growling voice

“What can I do for you two.”

Phoenix removed his broken weapon from his back and placed it onto the counter. Dimitri did the same with his hammer.

“We would like you to fix these.”

The man picked up the hammer and ran his hand along the face. With a grunt he laid it back onto the counter. He then examined the shattered blade on Phoenix’s staff.

“How did this break?” the smith asked

“I was hired as a guard for a noble who believed someone was trying to assassinate him. He was correct. So; when the assassin showed up, I took a swing at his head, when the blade collided with his helmet, he was knocked unconscious and the blade just fell to pieces.”

“The hammer I can fix easily, nothing is overly damaged. On the other hand…”

He picked up the long pole and traced his finger along the shattered blade

“I don’t believe I can repair this. I could forge another blade for it or maybe even sell you a new weapon, but I can’t fix a blade onto it without it being fragile. Sorry.”

“I think I would like it re-forged, but could you curve the blade forward, instead of up or backwards.”

“I think I have something like that.”

The smith walked out of the room through a door behind him. A few minutes later he re-entered the room holding almost the exact weapon phoenix wanted

“It’s called a war scythe and I believe it to be what you are looking for.”

“Yes. It is, but would it be possible to put the blade onto the shaft of my weapon?”

“Sure I can do that no problem. I should be able to do it within the hour; the hammer should be done soon after, at most it will take until noon.”

Phoenix looked towards his friend

“That’s no problem, is it Dimitri?”

“Shouldn’t be…”

“We’ll come back later to check up on things.”

“I’ll collect the pay then as well then. Goodbye!”

“Bye.”

The warriors walked through the door and back into the street, they followed the wall of the building round until Phoenix walked past a low wall. Peering over it he could see a group of teens between 15 and 20 all swinging their swords at practice posts, yelling through their exertion.

Dimitri annoyed as they had stopped in the dull alleyway, said, “What’s it you’re looking at? If you’re not going to tell me can we move on already?”

Phoenix snapped his head up as he seemed to break out of a trance

“Just the… trainee soldiers...”

Scanning his eyes across the training grounds Phoenix spotted a sign in the corner near the entrance. He couldn’t make out any details but could see a religious man standing next to it.

This could be interesting.

“Let’s go. There’s something interesting going on at the entrance…”

The two soldiers carried on walking round the compound to the entrance.

“Warriors school... Do you remember those days?”

Phoenix looked down at his short friend

“I remember that our teacher was a bloody slave driver, always beat me for no good reason.”

Dimitri raised an eyebrow

“Okay fine. He caught me sleeping in class. But that was one time!”

Dimitri laughed at this

“You always got into trouble because you never did what you were told. He had every reason to beat you.”

“I guess you’re right....still, look at me now, almost failed school but still managed to become a knight.”

“You are a knight?”

Phoenix and Dimitri stopped and realised they had walked into the school grounds. To their left stood a priest.

“And how may we help a member of the Church?” Dimitri asked.

The priest pointed a finger at the red cross he was wearing on his shoulder. “I have been sent by the Eunuch to recruit competent soldiers to join the crusade.”

Phoenix and Dimitri looked at each other

“well?”

Phoenix smiled

“Let’s do it.”

The priest nodded.

“If you do want to join, we have set up a test to assess your skills and work out what we will want you to do. Are you up for it?”

They answered in unison, “we would be honoured.”

“That’s good to hear. Now if you would follow me.”

The priest walked towards a set of large wooden doors. Dimitri and Phoenix were not far behind. Opening the doors the priest led them through a harsh stone corridor, and into a waiting room of some sort.

“Who’s up first?”

Dimitri dramatically waved his hand forward. “After you dear brother”

Phoenix smirked at his friends bad sense of humour. The priest took it into his stride and stood in front of the giant with a clipboard.

“state your name and profession.”

“Phoenix Black, commander of the black blades mercenary band.”

The priest raised an eyebrow.

“You lead an entire mercenary band?”

“There are about two hundred of us, and all of them are skilled warriors. Dimitri and I are pretty much equals, only reason I’m better, is because I can use my size to an advantage.”

Dimitri grumbled at this as Phoenix grinned

“I see... well, follow me then Phoenix, you’re up first.”

He looked at Dimitri

“I will call for you when Phoenix has finished.”

“Sure.”

Dimitri waved them off as Phoenix turned to the priest

“Lead the way.”

The priest nodded and opened a door on the left hand side of the room and walked down a corridor and he stopped in-front of a small wooden door framed with iron.

“In there is the armoury. We have removed all metal weapons replacing them with wooden versions, choose which one you want and ring the bell when you are ready.”

Phoenix did what he was asked and went into the armoury. Sure enough all the weapons had been replaced by wooden variants. The weapons on display ranged from standard short swords, to exotic throwing knives, and there was even a war scythe sitting in one of the corners.

Well. Since that’s what I'm going to be using from now on, I guess I’d better get used to it.

Grasping the pole in the middle Phoenix lifted it off its holder, and swung it around him in a few circles, feeling its weight and handling. Scanning his eyes around the room, he saw the bell in one corner and rang it.

Shortly after a lone soldier walked into the room from a door to his left, and studied Phoenix in great detail. Silently he motioned for Phoenix to follow him, so he did. And after walking down a dark cramped passageway for about a minute, his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. When suddenly the corridor opened up into a huge room and Phoenix was blinded by the sudden flash of light as torches lit up around the room. In the centre of a small circle stood a man who came up to Phoenix’s chest, he was holding a wooden claymore. Phoenix turned to the soldier who walked him here.

“I take it we have to fight?”

The guide nodded, and shifted his eyes between the fighters,

“Rules of the fight are as follows; no low blows, try not to break any bones and you must not kill your opponent. First one to either fall unconscious or give up loses.”

He walked between the two fighters, and pointed to two marks on the floor.

“Stand over the spot and ready yourselves.”

He waited until both contestants had taken their stances over the marks, then jumped out of the circle backwards.

“FIGHT!”

Phoenix eyed his opponent waiting for him to make the first move.

Let’s make this quick

His opponent raised the claymore to the side of his head and charged forward. Swinging the blade in a low arc he aimed at Phoenix’s knee to try and force the giant down to his height. Phoenix predicting this; swapped his scythe into his left hand and stabbed it  into the sandy floor. The claymore not expecting resistance so early, lost its momentum and stopped mid swing. Pheonix then raised his right hand, rocked forward on the balls of his feet, and plunged his fist into the face of his adversary knocking him unconscious and giving him a glorious nosebleed. Then realised his nose was at an awkward angle.

“That won’t count against me will it?”

The referee checked the loser to see if he was still breathing. He then stood up and patted Phoenix on the shoulder.

“And we have our winner."

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Half an hour later Dimitri rejoined Phoenix outside the Warriors school. Phoenix tried to control his laughter, but he couldn’t bottle it up. When Dimitri walked next to his friend, Phoenix let it all out

“Half, an hour... HALF AN HOUR!” Phoenix had almost collapsed in fits of laughter “You took half an hour! Who on earth, managed to stop you, for half an hour?”

“That bastard just wouldn't give up! I was told I couldn't hit him on the head with the hammer. If I did I could have finished it in a matter of seconds,” Dimitri retorted matter-of-factly. Then curiosity took over. “So... How did you do it?”

“I punched him. Smashed him in the nose.”

Dimitri burst out laughing. “So that’s why the guy in the corner had a busted nose.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________

The soldier’s stomach started to growl. He hated having to sit in the crow’s nest. Not because he was afraid of heights or even falling. The reason he hated it was because he missed out on the evening meal. He knew he would have to get a cold snack from one of the chefs before going to sleep.

“What I would do for a nice pie...”

As the guard was wondering about what horrible food he was bound to get later, he did not notice the sky above him turning a dark shade of grey as thick clouds began to congregate and mix together in the air above the boat.

Hmmm... What are we gonna have food wise tomorrow? Probably oatmeal; God do I hate oatmeal, where the hell would you even get the idea of making the stuff? They must have been stupidly crazy.

The touch of cold water on his face broke the guard out from his wandering thoughts. Looking up he finally noticed the dark clouds, and realised his night in the crow’s nest just got a whole lot worse.

Well isn’t that just lovely. I doubt my time up here could get any worse.

The guard jerked forward as he felt a burning sensation on the back of his neck. Whipping his body around, he saw the worst possible thing in his life. It was an Orudasus.  He had only heard of them in fairy tales, never believing them to be real. At least... until tonight. He was said that they were a demon from the imp family, but larger and more dangerous than an ordinary demon. They are creatures of the sea, and when boats sailed too close to their territory, they would create storms to divert the ships or, try and destroy them.

I’ve never heard about them boarding ships, but then again, who would be left alive to tell the story afterwards?

Looking at the demons claw, the soldier saw blood, touching the back of his own neck he realised that he demon had stabbed him with its claw, and he was already luck to be alive. In one swift motion the Orudasus grabbed the knight’s and neck broke it, killing him instantly. It then threw the limp form off the crow’s nest, sending it crashing onto the wooden decks below. As soon as the body hit the floor, the heavens cracked open.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

The screams of pain are what awoke Dimitri from his slumber. Something was definitely going wrong. He rolled out of his hammock, grabbed his war hammer and bolted out of the hold. The screams, constantly getting louder, dulled only by the sound of raindrops cascading onto the deck and the surrounding ocean. When he reached the deck he stood for a few seconds simply admiring the scene unfurling before him. From the amount of soldiers on the deck, Dimitri realised he was one of the last to join in, and from the look of it, Phoenix was one of the first. His huge silhouette surrounded by piles of bodies Dimitri could not quite make out. He would never admit it... but seeing phoenix dance around battlefield blowing his enemy away in a whirlwind of destruction, not only inspired him, but drove him into feats otherwise impossible for a small man like him.

A thud to his left gave Dimitri his first glimpse at their enemy. It was a strange creature to say the least. It had a man's broad chest, but instead of a normal head, this beast had a reptilian one, covered in scales and it’s pupils were two small black slits. In between its neck and shoulders on each side were a set of gills to allow it to breathe in water Dimitri guessed. It had a pair of long muscular arms but instead of two hands, one long, spiralling horn grew out of its right wrist as if a drill had burst out of the creature’s bone. Instead of legs the creature had a long serpentine tail and its whole body was covered in overlapping blue and green scales.

Well that’s a new one; wonder what they’re called?

Dimitri casually shrugged the thought off. Reaching under his tunic he brought out a thick silver chain, with a simple cross hanging off the centre. He lifted the cross to his mouth and said a silent prayer, letting the rain soak into his clothing, cleansing his body. He kissed the cross and let it fall heavily onto his chest. In the instant the cold metal hit his tunic, Dimitri’s expression changed from the calm of fading embers to a bonfire of heated determination.

He let out a bellowing war cry; smothering any screams of pain, and removing any fragments of fear that had found themselves embedded into the minds of his men. Dimitri charged into one of the Orudasi, shoving his shoulder into the demon’s chest, blasting it backwards and knocking it onto the floor. Even though he was not the leader of the Black Blades, Dimitri felt a certain amount of responsibility for the lives of the knights following under its banner. For as long as he lived, Dimitri would keep as many of them alive as possible.

With a grunt he raised his newly tempered war hammer, and pulled it down with explosive force towards the grounded demon. Dimitri noted that although the hammer seemed to be heavier than usual, it pushed through the air without much resistance. The extra momentum of the swing, gave the weapon enough power to easily crush the monster’s skull. Lifting his hammer, revealed nothing but a pool of blood showing a head had once been there. He paused for half a second to admire the blacksmiths work, before letting his burning rage consume him and throwing himself into the battle.

Dimitri’s perception was at its best, as he dodged and weaved between the demons flailing claws. Hearing a warning cry from behind him, Dimitri ducked and felt something brushing over his short hair. Pivoting on his heels, the warrior turned half a circle to face the creature behind him. Using the motion of his turn, Dimitri brought his war hammer round in a crushing arc, directly into the Demons stomach. He then threw his right fist into the side of the creature’s face forcing it onto it’s knees.

Looking into the demon’s cold, dead eyes, Dimitri knew, in that instant that these creatures were formed from evil, in its purest form. They could simply slaughter hundred of innocents without a moment of hesitation. When he realised this, Dimitri’s soul burned brighter than any furnace, and his eyes shone like twin pillars of fire, declaring that these demons would be purged from this ship, leaving nothing but a pile of ash.

As his rage reached its peak, Dimitri lost all sense of self, he could not keep track of time nor could he count how many demons he had swept from the decks in that all too brief a moment.  A calming hand grasped his shoulder and Dimitri retaliated by bringing his hammer into another devastating arc. He put all of his power behind it warping the shaft as it bent backwards under the extreme pressure. Before the head collided with anything; a hand grasped the wooden handle and, with the force of a hurricane, flung Dimitri through the air backwards. The wooden deck splintered as the soldier crashed into it like a comet, a large shadow chasing after him. With an iron grip, two hands firmly held Dimitri to the floor and a pair of stormy grey eyes, locked with Dimitri’s own, attempting to put out the blaze residing within. A soothing voice came from the shadow’s mouth

“It’s over, you can stop now.”

Dimitri shivered as he regained his sanity and stared into his friend’s eyes.

“Thank you Phoenix.”

The Giant chuckled

“Looks like you had more fun than me today!”

“What do you mean?”

Phoenix stood up and waved his hand in a sweeping motion to his left. Dimitri followed his friend’s hand, and saw the piles of corpses littering the decks and for the first time noticed the rain had ceased. He laughed

“And the crusade has only just begun.”

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Phoenix watched as the huge yellow orb dragged itself into the sky, casting off the dark shadows that clung to the Earth, illuminating the world around him in its golden light. He stood at the entrance of the valley; the dusty, dry ground, void of any life. He gazed behind him and saw the sun’s rays, reflecting off of two hundred suits of armour. These knights had been under his command for years, and he thought of them all as his brothers.

The holy land had turned out to be too hard a task for a novice commander to attempt. The Eunuch had seen the crusade was failing and had deemed it necessary to find, and send in more “experienced” soldiers, to assist the war effort. As it happened, the Tester had seen Phoenix, and thought that he would make a good leader. He had been ordered to clean up the mess before the crusade fell to pieces. Not long after his group had arrived, a scout had told them about a small force moving through the canyon, and Phoenix had taken it upon himself to deal with this threat.

He shifted his gaze over to Dimitri, and stared into the helmet of his closest friend.

“Do you ever wonder why we do this?”

Dimitri turned his head towards Phoenix

“Why we do what?”

“Travel so often. We never stop; always going from place to place... it is so tiring...”

“It comes hand in hand with being a sell sword. I agree that it can be harsh on the body at times. But I chose this life, so did you. I don’t have the option to choose something else because I don’t like it. Just remember this Phoenix, this... life, this... job, is all we have left.”

Dimitri turned around and walked away leaving his friend to dwell on what had just been said. Phoenix sighed when Dimitri was out of earshot.

Why does that old preacher always have to be right?

Phoenix listened to the thunder of footsteps, echoing along the walls of the valley. The mass of crusaders had formed a steel wall stretching from one side of the gateway to the other. They had constructed a makeshift wall in an attempt to prevent any of the targets from getting past. Phoenix knew their enemy stood no chance of breaking through.

While he stood there at the frontline, watching the enemy slowly begin to march towards their inevitable doom, the crusader let his thoughts wander.

Will I ever be able to leave the Black Blades..?

He shook the thought from his head, that was not who he was, the chaos of battle thrilled him. The ringing of steel and the cries of pain and failure as the victims of war lost their lives.

The clanking of chainmail that could be heard over the footfalls, told the crusaders that the enemy was almost there.

He was ready.

His body knew what was going to happen before he did. Phoenix felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Staring at his targets, the giant lowered his body preparing to charge off into battle and participate in the magnificent game he knew so well. He took off, charging into the conflict; swinging his 7 foot War scythe as if it weighed nothing more than a feather, cleaving through flesh and bone with ease. Shouts of pain from his victims, spurred him on to even greater heights of skill. The blade streaking like lightning as it severed heads and released the souls of his foes. He danced through the crowd, obliterating any who walked into his deadly reach, only Phoenix could turn slaughter an art form.

The infidels surrounded him and looked on in terror as the rich blood of countless victims, dripped off his armour, mixing with the dusty ground at his feet. His imposing figure, towering over the heads of normal soldiers, demanded their attention. His once white tunic, stained with a mix of blood and his own perspiration. He removed his helmet and shook out his blonde hair, letting it cling to his face and the back of his neck. Dragging his stormcloud eyes across the scene around him, he noticed that every soldier refused to come within his deadly reach.

It was always like this. No matter where I go, they never seem to learn anything.

Phoenix took a step forwards and entire circle flinched. He took a deep breath,

“Is there anyone in this valley, willing to risk their lives and faith in a duel against me?” he challenged.

A moment passed and nothing happened, suddenly Phoenix spotted movement in the background. A dark shadow moving through the ranks of the locals, marching towards him... a smirk played itself onto his lips as he thought about how enjoyable this was going to be. The soldiers opened a path for the approaching man, deciding they didn’t want to be shoved out of the way. The man, who was only a head smaller than Phoenix, stepped into the circle surrounding him. The man had broad shoulders, and a thick chest and arms that were heavily muscled. The man held a long sword in one hand and a round shield in the other. He glared straight into Phoenix’s eyes

“I am Zavik,” The man bellowed “Tell me your name, so I know whom I slaughtered on this day.”

“My name is Phoenix; some know of me as the harlequin, others know me by some of many names I have gained over the years. Let me tell you one thing Zavik, I am looking forward to taking part in this wonderful performance.”

The two combatants took their stances and began calmly circling each other, looking for a single error in the other’s defences; one, small overlooked gap, that one could use to defeat the other. Zavik stumbled over a rock. Phoenix made the first move. Holding the Scythe at head height, he lashed out at the stumbling warrior, aiming for Zavik's neck.

*Clang*

The bladed pole made an abrupt stop. Zavik had regained his balance and managed to block the deadly weapon on his own. With a mocking laugh he charged forward, bringing the sword pommel into his chest and pointing the razor sharp tip at Phoenix Zavik lunged forward. Phoenix retaliated by bringing his weapon round in a circle deflecting the sword. Countless blows rained upon the colossal crusader in a storm of steel, he fluttered through the cage of cuts and thrusts he was trapped in.

To Phoenix this dance of death was not very amusing. The longer he fought the more relaxed he got. He would have to end it soon. He began dodging the deadly arc of his opponents sword less and less, till at every pass the sword was at most, an inch away from the blood stained metal of his armour. He could tell that the closer Zavik got, The more frustrated he became. He began to goad him.

“Come on. I thought you were better than this, you can’t even last five minutes.”

He saw anger flash through his opponent’s eyes.

“Would you like me to hold your hand? Or are you waiting for me to fight back?”

Zavik launched himself toward Phoenix, bringing his sword up for an overhead slash.

This is what he had been waiting for.

The moment his foe ignored his guard and threw caution to the wind, Zavik started an all out attack Spawned from the shame and humiliation Phoenix was causing him. Phoenix brought his scythe to his side, and in a flicker of light, it flashed it towards the cursing soldier. The crescent blade, smashed into Zavik's hand, forcing the sword out of his tight grip and launching it through the air before it stabbed into the ground at the edge of the circle. Following on its path the scythe tore straight through the infidels arm and embedded itself a quarter of the way into his wide chest. With little effort Phoenix ripped his weapon out of the wound, adding to the size of the gaping hole. He turned around and shouted

“Is there anybody else, who thinks they sta-”

An explosion of pain burst from his chest, spreading through his body. Glancing down Phoenix saw the tip of a blade protruding from his left breast.

He had made a mistake.

He had turned his back on a live enemy. Turning his head to look behind him, Phoenix saw Zavik's corpse, hanging from the knife he had plunged into the knights back. Phoenix took a step forward and felt the blade, as it was dragged out by the weight of the body holding it. For just the second time since he had created the Black Blades, the dark blood flowing down his armour, was not his enemies but his own. Cursing under his breath, the doomed knight sank to his knees. He was having trouble breathing.

The music of war was replaced by a soul draining whisper, slowly sapping at his strength. He stared as people began to get over the deaths that had and were occurring before them. The once great Phoenix, Harlequin of the battlefield, had been defeated. His body crashed onto the blood soaked earth as he accepted his death. Wishing only; that it had meant something more. So he lay there, feeling the source of his life slowly leak from the open wound on his chest. He began to drift away, the drone never stopping

_________________________________________________________________________________________

The drone that had plagued the warrior’s mind was replaced by a deep buzzing, as if a thousand bees had a nest inside his head. He groaned as his stiff joints refused to move. The buzzing suddenly stopped almost as soon as it started, the only thing left that he could hear now, was the calming rustle of leaves as wind flowed through them.

Wait. Leaves? That means, I’m near trees; but... since when?

The crusader opened his eyes with difficulty feeling the film of dried blood, crack apart. Surrounding him was a sea of green, broke up by clumps of red apples.

“Am I in a tree?" How in God’s name did i get here!? The last thing i remember was dying, after I had a sword run through my chest.”

His thoughts were cut short as the tree shook violently and, as if a spirit had grabbed his leg, threw the warrior towards the oncoming ground.

For once, the armour he wore to protect himself had failed. His body had hit the floor hard; but instead of the lush green grass cushioning his fall, with an almighty crash, he had landed on hardened steel plating. A muted moan of pain, escaped his mouth as he pushed himself off the floor.

Surveying the area, he noticed that he was in the middle of an apple tree field; in front of him was a large red barn with a purple roof. Phoenix heard an intake of breath behind him and whipped his head round towards the source.

Standing next to some woven baskets full of apples was an orange pony; its long blonde mane and tail were tied at the end with two red bands. Her mouth hung open and her deep green eyes were wide with shock.