Legend of the Phoenix

By George Ebey

The Phoenix Saga

 

Tales of far-off realms, of legions of beasts who roam the land by wing and by hoof, of civilizations long forgotten.

The city of Alaria sits at the peak of a large mountain so tall it rises above the clouds. To the winged people who live there, it's a place of peace and safety. There, they enjoy a life of isolation, untouched by the troubles and torments of the outside world. To leave is unheard of. And forbidden. It is believed by the city's elders that the outside world is a dangerous place, teeming with legions of beasts who are hungry for war and conquest. To venture outside of their own realm would be to invite disaster and bring an end to their peaceful way of life.

Bale has no intention of ever doing so. He is happy with his quiet life among his people. But when a group of friendly creatures makes their way to Alaria and beseech him for help, Bale must choose to defy the rules and go to their aid. 

He will soon find that the elders were right. The world beyond Alaria is unlike anything he has ever seen. And worse, it is home to a monster, one with sharp claws and an appetite that can not be satisfied.

 

It is here where Bale will be tested like never before.

And where the fate of his people will be decided.

• Language: English
• Publisher: George Ebey
• Release date: Sep 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223918479

George Ebey

George Ebey is the author of the Helen of Mars series, as well as numerous short stories that have been published in several anthologies. For over a decade, he served as a contributor to The Big Thrill, an online magazine by the International Thriller Writers organization. George was born and raised in Ohio, where he still lives with his wife and two ornery cats.

Book preview

Chapter One

Something didn’t look right.

A tiny flock of birds broke through the thin layer of clouds in the near distance, and it was clear that they were in trouble. There were only six of them in all—much fewer than the customary ten to twelve. And even worse, they were flying erratically, almost as if they’d been shaken up by something.

Bale had never seen anything like it before.

He stood next to his mother, father, and grandmother on their family’s dwelling platform, watching with growing concern as the tiny group climbed higher in the sky. They looked even more out of sorts as they ascended the slope of the mountain, moving with muted, choppy wing-strokes toward the platform. 

Behind his back, he began to feel his own wings tingle nervously.

Ordinarily, there was a sense of grace in their glide. But it was gone now, replaced by an urgent sort of fluttering. A fluttering that looked highly unusual. Dangerous.   

What’s wrong with them, Father? he gasped.

The man didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched with narrow eyes as the small group continued to struggle.

I don’t know, he finally said.

That was probably the most upsetting part of all. His father always knew everything; how was it that he didn’t have an answer now? What was going on?

His mother simply gazed into the distance, her eyes wide with horror.

It was his grandmother, Pella—her eyes the sharpest of all, despite being an elder—who said what they were all thinking.

They’re hurt. Something’s happened to them.

A minute later, she was proven right.

The flock finally reached the platform and came to rest on the hard, flat surface just a few feet from Bale and his family. Each carried a large pouch filled with golden-colored plants, which they quickly dropped to the ground, happy to be free of the burden.

These were the Longdoves, a race of birds that acted as a sort of delivery system, often bringing the family shipments of the golden rod plant that grew in the wild outside of Alaria.

Nearly a foot in length, they were lean and trim, with a beautiful plumage of white feathers over their entire body. Their pointed heads held two beady eyes and a long beak stained yellow from years of working with the stalky plant.

This was bad, Bale knew. The delivery had never seemed so burdensome before. But it was clear now that they’d experienced something unexpected, some terrible ordeal that had changed everything. The very thought made him sick with worry for his tiny friends.

Ordinarily, their behavior was happy and their manner carefree. 

But not now. 

Three of them had blood-dripping cuts all up and down their long, lean bodies. Two more had clumps of their feathers torn away, revealing nasty-looking splotches of raw and exposed skin. 

Oh no, his mother gasped. 

His father and grandmother, however, said nothing.

Neither did Bale. He couldn’t talk, but his mind was a flurry of thought. What is ...? I don’t ...? How ...?

Confusion swirled through his head at the sight of it all. The birds had never come to Alaria in such a state before; they’d always been happy, healthy, and eager to do their job. This was the first time he’d ever seen them—or anything for that matter—damaged in such a way. Something had done this to them. Something had hurt them.

And then there was the sixth dove.

Its condition was much worse. Where the others looked to be at rest, this one shuddered in pain.

Bale felt a chill run through him as he took a visual inventory of its injuries. 

The poor thing’s wounds were ripped open and oozing a constant stream of blood. Its beak hung open, gulping desperately for air, its tiny chest heaving in and out in a sad attempt to fill its damaged lungs.     

Soon it began to squawk uncontrollably. 

The sound was so terrible that Bale fought the urge to throw his hands up to his ears and block it out. It was the sound of true pain—a jarring, terrible shriek that chilled him right to the bone.   

He didn’t have to fight for long. Seconds after it started, the dove’s pained cries suddenly ended. The little creature went stiff and keeled over.

Bale couldn’t move. He could hardly breathe. This was horrible, and it didn’t make any sense. These were gentle creatures ... friends. And suffering to this degree was virtually unheard of in Alaria.   

What could have caused this?

His father was the first to react, quickly reaching down, taking the dove in both hands, and cradling it gently as he searched for any signs of life. Turning to Bale, he said, Go find Jeda the Healer.

Bale didn’t register the order at first. He simply stared ahead, dumbstruck.

Bale! Go!

His father’s harsh tone was enough to bring him out of his stupor. Spinning around, he opened his own wings and moved swiftly to find the city healer.

Will he be able to help? Bale wondered.

The healer had the ability to attend to minor bumps or bruises, and could administer a salve of root paste to a skinned knee or bind the occasional cut. But to heal an injury of this degree on a creature of another species? One that he’d likely never tended to before? 

The more Bale thought about it,