Keeper of the Phoenix
Read Keeper of the Phoenix Online
Authors: Aleesah Darlison
Ash Rover wants to do something
important with his life
.
When he discovers a phoenix egg,
he gets his wish
.
But the magical bird brings trouble
to Ash’s village
.
Soon Ash is not only the unlikely
Keeper of the Phoenix, he’s also on a
desperate quest to save his family
and friends
.
The phoenix clasped his scarlet wings to his body and swept down, aiming for the space between two giant oak trees. He soon realised he had misjudged the gap, but he dared not stop. Not when the others were so close.
The creature squeezed his wings tighter and stretched his body, slipping through the gap by a feather’s breadth. The great bird lifted his golden head. As he pulled out of his nosedive, he gave a triumphant cry. He spread his wings and beat them rapidly to give him the thrust he needed to lift higher into the sky.
He peeked behind him. His trick hadn’t worked. The two pursuers were still there. Gaining.
Tearing up through the clouds, the phoenix registered the welcoming breeze and sunlight press against him. But the open sky was dangerous. Here he felt exposed and as helpless as a newborn chick. There was nowhere to hide. His pursuers were stronger than him and would have him soon. But there, in the distance, he saw a patch of jade forest. If he could reach the trees, he might have a chance. He might be able to make the tight spaces of the coppice work to his advantage.
“Dare to catch me, griffins!” the phoenix crowed into the vortex behind him.
Both griffins answered with savage screams that clawed at his ears. The phoenix snatched another look over his shoulder. With their massive coal-black wings, the griffins were carving up the sky. Claiming it for themselves, they left him nowhere to go.
On the phoenix flew until he encountered a sudden rush of air. The wind embraced the giant bird, sweeping him along, allowing his aching wings a brief rest. He had to fight hard to overcome the familiar pang of exhaustion that always throbbed at this time. He must not give up now!
Ahead was the forest. The phoenix soared, as if to shoot straight over the woods. But at the last moment he swept down. He folded his wings into his body and dived through the forest canopy. The griffins pulled up and dropped awkwardly after him, the sudden change requiring great effort.
Through the upper levels of the forest, the phoenix plunged until he gained the middle space between the treetops and the ground. Up, over, down, through and around he went. Up, over, across and around, like a dragonfly skimming a muddy pond, the phoenix dashed and turned until he grew dizzy.
Behind him he heard the restrained flapping of mighty wings. The enormous griffins crashed about in the forest’s dense spaces. Muffled snarls sounded in the cool, woody silence. No other creatures stirred – they were hiding. The carrion-like stench of the griffins had announced their presence long before their noisy pursuit.
The phoenix shot past a branch, disturbing a chameleon huddled in camouflage. When the lizard flinched, it caught the phoenix’s eye. The momentary loss of concentration almost cost him, for when he faced forwards once more a beech tree loomed before him, solid and unyielding. The phoenix pulled himself up just in time, heaving his wings and body sharply backwards.
With great effort, he climbed. The smooth bark of the beech tree brushed his feathered chest as he skimmed its surface. Below he heard a startled screech, the thrashing of wings, then a bone-snapping
CRACK!
The sombre beech shuddered. The phoenix glanced down to see a griffin lying awkwardly on the forest floor. It did not stir.
Relief was short-lived, for the second griffin did not make the same mistake as its companion. Instead it swooped in from the side and chased the phoenix up the face of the tree. The phoenix flew out the top of the forest canopy then twisted and plummeted back down, the griffin following close on his tail feathers.
The swipe of angry talons tore the phoenix’s back and knocked him sideways. Still he flew on, ignoring the pain. The griffin roared and shot twin blasts of fire from its crimson eyes. The flames struck a nearby branch, incinerating it and causing the phoenix to veer sharply. Leaves and branches caught fire and toppled downwards.
Ahead, the phoenix saw an opportunity. He darted low then lifted quickly to fly through a hole in the trunk of an ancient ash tree. Twisting his body sharply sideways, he slipped through the hole and burst out the other side. Intent on its prey, the heavy-limbed griffin blindly followed the phoenix’s path. The griffin flew into the gap where it stuck fast, plugging the hole with its body, its mighty wings clasped to its sides, its legs and feet dangling from the rear of the tree.
“You will not escape!” the griffin roared as it writhed about. “I will find you, Gwaam. I will find you and return you to your rightful place.”
With the last of his strength, the phoenix darted up through the forest roof and into the open sky. This time when the wind fanned his wings, he savoured the sensation. He gulped air into his burning lungs, overcome by a surge of relief. He had escaped.
Though his wings were heavy with exhaustion, he knew he must put as much distance as he could between himself and the griffin in case it managed to free itself. Then he had to find a place where he could perform his last ritual in secret. Otherwise all would be lost.
The phoenix flew on until he spied a river winding through a fertile valley cut into the desert landscape. Dipping down into the valley, the phoenix followed the river then headed west over pastures that rolled gently across the back of the land. Few trees grew there, save for a tiny orchard of olive and lime trees. Most of the land was open fields sown with food crops for humans or pastures for grazing animals. Nearby, a village clung to a steep, narrow roadway. It was closer to human settlement than the phoenix would have liked, but his tired wings could carry him no further.
The gigantic bird tilted his wings to descend, but at that moment his energy evaporated. The life snapped out of him and his body burst into a white-hot orb of light and heat. For a brief instant, he seemed revived, his head thrown back. The phoenix gave a mighty cry. Within the brilliant light his image glowed with the colours of the rainbow. Then the heat and light were extinguished and all that remained was ash. The ash drifted slowly downwards. As it fell each smoky particle was drawn together as if magnetised. Moments later, the ash was reunited in a compact oval. The oval plunged from the sky and might have smashed to pieces if it had not caught in the fork of a lonely willow tree that stood like a sentinel on a hillock overlooking the fields.
In the distance, the tinkling of cowbells could be heard. Closer, the whispering of grass stirring in the breeze. Closer still, something blunt and strident filled the air. Something not at all musical.
It was the sound of snoring.
ASH
The snoring belonged to a cowherd named Ash Rover. He had only meant to rest for a few minutes, but had found it so relaxing in the shade that he’d drifted off to sleep and become lost in a superbly heroic dream in which he was a knight, galloping into battle on a black warhorse.
It was one of Ash’s favourite dreams.
It wasn’t until he felt a thud on his head that he woke with a start.
“Eee-yow!”
Ash poked his fingers through his curly yellow hair to feel the lump that was already forming. It took him a moment to work out where he was. Rubbing the knightly dream from his eyes with some reluctance, he peered around for his attacker. Seeing no one, the boy jumped to his feet. “Who’s there?”
Ash’s cattle dog, Trip, who was dozing nearby, woke and lifted his nose to the breeze. Scenting nothing unusual, the dog dropped his head back onto his paws and went back to sleep. If anyone was about, Ash knew Trip would have barked – he was an excellent guard dog.
Ash gazed up at the branches of the tree. Only the drooping fringes of the willow showed themselves as they swayed in the breeze.
He marched around the tree.
No one.
Then he spied something lying half-buried in the clover nearby. “It’s a rock,” he muttered, picking it up. “And an unusual one at that.”
Ash almost dropped the rock in surprise. Although it looked and felt smooth, like polished marble, the rock radiated warmth.
What sort of rock makes heat? he wondered.
Ash turned the rock over in his hands. It felt light and rather hollow and was the size and shape of a honeydew melon, with swirls of ebony and violet covering its smooth surface.
“Surely something so perfectly formed can’t be a rock?” he murmured.
As he watched, the ebony and violet swirls shifted and flowed. Ash shook his head.
Am I still dreaming? he wondered. He blinked then stared at the rock once more. There! He
had
seen it. The colours
did
shift.
“Old Maggot Magdeth was right,” Ash said. “We
are
all doomed!”
With barely a thought for the cattle he was meant to be minding, Ash slipped the rock into his knapsack and whistled. “Come, Trip. We’d better show Ma. She’ll know what to do.”
Ash set off at a jog, loyal Trip following eagerly behind. They strode along a series of winding, deserted cattle trails before finally reaching home. Chickens squawked and scrabbled out of the way as Ash and his dog ran into the farmyard. The familiar smells of henhouse and cow manure, damp earth, straw and smoke greeted them.
Bursting into the cottage, Ash called out to his mother. “Ma! Where are you?”
“Ashfield Rover!” Ma shouted. “How many times have I told you to wipe your feet before coming inside? You’ll bring the animals’ muck in.”
“Sorry, I forgot.” Ash bounced back outside to clean his boots on the scraping stone beside the door.
Amelia Rover, a short, plain-looking woman, sweated and grumbled under her breath as she stirred a huge pot of strawberry jam on the stove. “That’s what you always say.”
Ash trotted back inside and glanced around the kitchen. Four freshly baked blackberry pies sat cooling by the window. The steam rose from their crusty caramel-coloured tops, making his mouth water. Ash swallowed hard and tore his eyes away from the pies. He forced himself to focus on his mother’s words.
“… doing home at this time? I’ve told you not to leave the cows.”
“They’re fine, Ma. I only came home because I found something important, or rather, it found me.”
“Well, what is it?” Amelia wiped her hands on her apron. “The quicker you show me, the quicker you can get back to those cows.”
“You’d better sit down.” Ash ushered Amelia to the stone bench at the table and sat beside her. “What I’m about to say may shock you.”
Worry lines etched Amelia’s forehead. “I hope this isn’t more of your tomfoolery. After this morning’s antics with the chickens, I–”
“No tomfoolery, Ma, I promise.” Ash lifted the rock out of his knapsack and offered it to her.
Amelia’s forehead crinkled even further. She took the rock and held it up to the light. “What’s this?” She shook it, pressed it to her ear then held it at arm’s length to squint at it. “A rock?”