The Phoenix Rising focuses on the journey of six very different people as they search for a magical city which they believe is their only hope of survival. In order to survive, they need to learn to trust one another and to trust in themselves. Their characters are put to the test as each individual battles the demons of their past while battling the obstacles they face in the present. It is a story of love, courage, forgiveness and friendship set in a magical and mysterious world. When Drake learns of Lothos' evil plot to overthrow the King of Gammogo, he becomes the Kingdom's only hope of survival. Having been exiled for many years, Drake must win their trust in order to lead them to the safety of Serumola. Being a mythical city, no one is assured of its existence, but if they are to survive Serumola might be their only hope. Drake takes them on a journey through dark forests, vast deserts, a raging river and emotional turmoil. Throughout this journey Drake falls in love with the beautiful, yet mysterious Genevieve. Shrouded in secrecy, Drake must learn to trust her in order to save the lives of hundreds.

The Phoenix Rising

By Zerelda Daniels

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Zerelda Daniels
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4634-2032-1

Chapter One

The tavern was over-crowded so late at night, the bar counter covered in stains and half empty mugs of beer. Behind the counter two men in dirty white sleeveless shirts, as unattractive and rude as the rest of the large crowd of men gathered there, were pouring drinks.

Three animal heads hung high on the wall; a deer with dominant antlers, a dark brown bear with child-like frightened eyes and lips slightly pulled up, bearing its huge teeth in an attempt to show ferociousness, and a moose with broken antlers. The moose had obviously been one of the biggest males in the herd.

The tables crammed along the walls and in the centre of the tavern were filled with loud, rowdy patrons, and even the spaces between tables were jammed with sweaty bodies. It was increasingly difficult for the serving girls to dance around these.

A short waitress with curly red hair shouldered her way through the masses. She wore a stained apron over her dull brown dress, but her ivory white skin and red curly locks draped neatly around her pale, round face. She struggled through the room with a tray of pints, and was off-balance when a hand suddenly grabbed her tiny waist. She fell into a man's lap. Much like the rest of the patrons here, he was dirty, his face stained with food and beer. His brown shirt was maybe once white, a long time ago. His greasy hair stuck to his sweaty brow and his teeth were crooked and almost black as he leered at her. The pint of beer toppled over and now her already filthy apron dripped, wet with the scent of the strongest aphrodisiac known to man. She tried to get up, but he effortlessly pulled her down and clutched her, like an eagle would a mouse.

"Why you so eager to get away, my angel?" he asked in a hoarse rough voice.

She squirmed, helpless against his strong hands.

"I smell of beer, my lord. I need to go wash myself off."

"Don't worry about that, my angel, I'll help you." With the hand that wasn't clutching her waist and holding her hostage, he swiped ineffectually at her dress. She struggled, but his grip was too tight. He grabbed her bosom in his hand and without thinking, she slapped him.

"What the ...?"

In a rage he catapulted her to the ground, and as her head hit the cold, hard floor she momentarily lost consciousness.

Silence stepped into the bar.

It was a known fact in this world: women were inferior and to obey men at all times, never to disagree with or enrage a man. Those were the rules people lived by in the Kingdom. Now they watched in anticipation to see what happened when a woman broke the rules. The last woman who had stood up for herself was beheaded.

As the waitress opened her eyes, the drunken monster was standing over her, his fist balled to crash against her skull. He glared into her beautiful brown eyes, and then plunged his clenched fist down. But before it could impact with her face, another hand grabbed his and with force pulled him back, almost dislocating his shoulder. He turned around to face his attacker with a murderous glare in his eyes. His jaw dropped in amazement ...

Genevieve had been watching the scene from the corner. She did not want to interfere, she did not want to draw any attention to herself. But then he lifted his giant hammer-hand and she knew she had to do something. She couldn't just sit there as a helpless young girl was beaten to death. So she stood up, her big green eyes flashing intimidating fire.

The crowd gaped at the extraordinary sight. Her long golden hair was tied back in a braid, an unladylike hairstyle to start with. Then she wasn't wearing the usual female attire of a dress and pretty shoes; this petite girl was wearing masculine brown trousers and a brown button-down shirt that was not tucked in. But despite that, her beauty left them gasping for breath.

Until the drunk remembered how she had humiliated him when she grabbed his arm in mid stride and the anger rushed back.

"You stupid woman! Do you know what the punishment is for what you have done?"

"Oh shut up, you overgrown boar!" she murmured back with intriguing arrogance.

"You can't talk to me like that!" He took a swing at her but she ducked, grabbed his shoulder and used the motion of his stride to send him to the ground. He shook himself in embarrassment and jumped up quickly.

"I was only teaching the dumb slut to mind her manners!" he blustered.

"She might not have gotten so upset if you had minded yours, sir."

"She had no right to pull away from me. I am a man and I can take what I want!"

"You insolent fool! You don't own her, nor do you own the right to punish her for something you so ignorantly brought onto yourself."

"What do you know?" he stared at her in astonishment. She stepped back and stared at him with contempt.

"I know that women can do anything men can. I know that the idea of men owning women and being their master is as absurd as the idea of the Kingdom being ruled by an ape. And I know that we women do not need answer to any man."

The crowd was getting restless, cat-calling, insulting this woman dressed like a man. She defended herself with her sharp tongue, but she knew the fight had been lost long ago. But that didn't dampen her spirits. She believed women were men's equals: she had never backed off in any fight before and she sure as hell wouldn't back off now!

The drunk's stare turned evil as he unexpectedly punched her in the face. Her jaw felt like a shattered bowl. She took a second to recover from the blow and catch her breath, and then she attacked. Her speed was her biggest advantage. He didn't get a chance to lift his hand again before she returned the punch, and before he knew it, he was lying flat on his back again.

The crowd surrounding exploded; some of the men were booing her, but most of the women were secretly cheering her on.

Chaos ensued.

There was a sudden loud whistle from the door. The room fell silent.

"Is that ...?" a soft whisper came from among the crowd as everyone stared at the man standing in the doorway.

"I think it is," a trembling voice answered the question. The answer was so soft that in a normal conversation it would not have been heard, but in the sudden dead silence in the bar it was clearly audible.

The outlaw standing in the doorway had been hunted from every corner of the Kingdom, but never caught. He was the most dangerous man this small medieval town had ever seen and the crowd cowered back in fear. He gazed around the room, his green eyes sad and intense as his lips turned up slightly into an almost smile. He made his way to the center of the room, where the girl, who had not yet registered the silence was still punching the man on the ground. He put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her back, gently but firmly.

"Enough!" His voice was strong and authoritative. She turned and defensively threw a punch at him, but he caught her arm easily and swung her around, grabbing her other arm as well. With both her hands held behind her back, Genevieve was helpless. She glared up at the newcomer, aware suddenly of golden brown skin and strong well-built arms holding her.

"Calm down, milady," he said, his tone strict.

"Who are you?"

"Drake Belvedere." His face was grizzly with stubble, his hair black and very short.

The crowd was motionless.

"Lord Drake Belvedere? Never heard of you," she replied dismissively. "That's because I am not a lord. You should be at home, in your ..."

She interrupted him, breaking free from his grip.

"In my bed, sleeping like a lady?" She stared into his eyes, getting lost in the sadness for a while. But his arrogance forced her to continue. "I do not believe that a woman's rightful place is at home, cooking and cleaning after the pig she calls her husband. I will be where I want, when I want. What is so wrong with me trying to enjoy myself?"

"My lady, with all due respect, shut up. You're giving me a headache!"

Genevieve's jaw dropped at his remark. She stared, speechless. The men within earshot guffawed, passing his remark on through the crowd. The waitresses frowned.

"My lady, desist. I did not come here to pick a fight with you."

Drake turned his back on her and faced the crowd.

"I have been to the King and he refuses to help. So now I plead with my fellow man to lend a hand in the coming war."

There was a mixed reaction from the crowd. Some were outraged that he would ask for their help. Others were so drunk they didn't even realize that they were being asked to volunteer themselves for war. And then there were those who just wanted to ask a pile of questions. Drake lifted his hand to silence them all, and climbed onto a table to speak.

"Please, let me explain. This war is not my doing. That I promise you. I overheard two Barbarians in the woods. They want to take what is rightfully ours."

There was a buzz of murmuring as he looked around the crowded room.

"The Barbarians attack tomorrow at midnight."

The silence shattered as the crowd erupted in a frenzy.

"Please! Quiet! Don't panic. Stay calm."

The crowd quieted down, but everyone was still restless.

"I know that I am asking much of you, but I can't just sit by and watch as all that we have built gets destroyed. I cannot defend our Kingdom alone. So I am asking you now, I need your help. I might not have been the perfect citizen," the crowd roared with drunken laughter, "and I know I have done things to anger and hurt you all," the crowd rumbled amongst themselves, then fell silent as Drake raised his hand. "but if we could put that behind us, I know that together we can beat them."

The men were easily swayed after a couple of beers, and most loved a good fight anyway. Within an hour, they were roaring like wild animals on the hunt, happy to be going to war.

Drake half-smiled as he watched the patriotism grow. His confidence was low; he hid his fear, knowing that no army he could build in the short time he had available would be strong enough to do what had to be done. Finally he spoke again.

"Enough: it is time. We need to vacate our homes. Please go and get your wives and children, pack what you can, leave everything else behind. Our only hope is to get as far away as possible, first to ensure the safety of our women and children, and then to build an army stronger than any man has ever dreamed. We will leave in an hour. Now go!"

Like one, the crowd stormed to the door, erupting into a frenzy as they all tried to squeeze through. They were all ready: ready to make war to defend their families, their freedom and their Kingdom.

Drake crouched motionless on the table with his elbows on his knees and his hands prayer-like beneath his chin. His eyes were closed, almost as if he was waiting for something great or horrible to happen.

"What are you not telling us?"

He opened his eyes to find the provocative blonde with the large, invading green eyes standing before him. Her serious look showed her determination to find the answer to her question. He jumped off the table.

"Nothing!" he replied arrogantly as he made his way to the door.

She ran after him and pulled him back towards her. He was strong, but his strength was almost matched by her hold on his arm. Standing up against her, the only thing he could think of was how strong she was for a woman.

"I want an answer."

"My lady, I refuse to give you an answer seeing as there is no answer. Now go home."

"But you are hiding something. And I want to know what it is."

"I'm not hiding anything!" he shouted, suddenly losing his self-control. He was both agitated and angered. She looked at him, untouched by his sudden outburst.

"Fine," she replied innocently. She walked past him and headed for the door. At once he was disappointed with himself. He had never believed in being aggressive towards a woman nor had he ever raised his voice to a woman, but this girl was just so damn provocative!

"Look, I am sorry if I offended you," he apologized.

"Not at all. But you will have to excuse me. I have to go get ready."

"Ready for what?" He looked puzzled.

"War of course, what else!" Her reply matched his for arrogance.

And he lost his temper once again.

"You can't fight in a war!"

"Of course I can. I can do anything I want."

"Not when I'm in control!"

"You asked for volunteers, and I'm volunteering." Her voice quietly determined, she walked towards the door again. Drake threw his hands up in disbelief then dropped them to his side. Sighing, he stopped her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Please, lady, don't do this."

"Why?"

"Because it is dangerous."

"Any war is dangerous."

"This one is different," he said quietly.

"Why? What is it that makes this one exceptionally dangerous?"

"You're not going to give up, are you my lady?"

"Never, never in my life."

"Fine! You win. I'll tell you." Drake gently led Genevieve to the table standingclosesttothedoor.Hepulledoutachairforher,whichshemounted, gracefully but in a most unladylike manner. "Now, you wanted to know the truth?"

"Yes of course."

"It is true that I overheard the two Barbarians. In fact, everything I told you is the truth, but there is more." He hesitated, but continued as he saw the determined look on her face. "The Barbarians have joined forces with the Dogmen."

"The Dogmen? Who are they?"

"The question my lady, is not who are they, it is what are they?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not trying to frighten you, but they ... these things ... they are not human."

"Not human?"

"No. They are monsters. They walk and talk like men, but they look and kill like wild dogs."

"Surely you must be joking, sir. That cannot be!"

"Joking? I have seen them with my own two eyes. I saw them tear into my brother's flesh like he was a piece of cooked meat!"

He could feel the tears drawing near and immediately stopped talking. Fleetingly she could see the emotion in his eyes. His hand still held the mug before him, but he was staring down at the table. She reached out and put her hand on his. He looked up into her eyes.

"I am so sorry. If I had any idea ..."

"You did not know."

For a moment there was silence between them.

"It is said that centuries ago all the deformed townsfolk were outcasts. Kicked out of town, shunned like wild animals. They made their way to the woods where they lived off poisonous berries and raw animal flesh. They started breeding, and soon a colony of wild, fearless, Godless monsters was formed. They kill for fun. They find pleasure in mercilessly torturing their victims. They are savages. And they hate us, each and every one of us. Do you see why you cannot fight in this war?" he asked, more gently now.

Genevieve couldn't answer. She was still determined to fight for what she believed in, but she has to admit that now she knew the full truth she felt slightly frightened.

"I still feel ..." she managed to say in a soft, less determined voice.

"These things are dangerous. Too many lives are going to be lost. You have to promise me you will respect my wish."

Hard as it was for her to stand down a good fight, the sadness in his eyes could not be ignored. She battled with her own strong will. She wanted to prove she could do this, but the man in front of her looked so vulnerable.

"I promise that I will respect your wish."

"Thank you." His relief was obvious. "How rude, I have not even asked your name?"

"It is Genevieve."

"Genevieve? That is a beautiful name for a lady," he smiled at her and joked, "but not for a warrior. I am glad you chose to stand down, I would hate to be responsible for such a pretty lady during a time of war. It would be too worrisome." He took her hand in his and gently kissed it. "The battlefield is no place for you."

He walked out without noticing the disgusted, angry look on her face.

"Oh, I will respect your wish, my lord, I promise!" she angrily murmured, outraged at his words. How dare he suggest that she would not be able to fight or that she would be a burden to others? Her hand clenched into a fist, and then she relaxed her hand, took a deep breath and smiled.

"You will not be responsible for me, Drake Belvedere!"

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Phoenix Risingby Zerelda Daniels Copyright © 2011 by Zerelda Daniels. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.