The Chronicles of Phoenix Bloodheart I: Turning Red

Chapter XII: Tricks of the trade

Phoenix wakes to a slap around the cheek. She groans and hastily turns over. A sharp flick connects with her right pointy elf ear. She moans again, louder, and pulls the covers over her head. There are more slaps, this time to her head.

"What are you doing?" she grumbles beneath the covers.

"Starting your training," Trixie replies, dropping something heavy onto her lap.

Phoenix pushes the duvet down, frowning, and stares at the little goblin, half-asleep, her eyes puffy.

"If ya want to be with us, ya need to know how to survive, how to fight, how to live," Trixie says, a little too perkily for Phoenix's liking. "Starting now. You're skinny, ya need toughening up. Get lifting."

Phoenix glances down and spots two weights on the bed. She looks around the room. The dwarves are doing some stretches, Django is using a chair to step up and down repeatedly, occasionally grabbing a swig of rum as he does so, while Seven is completing some press-ups in the far corner.

"Oh, what on Azeroth is this?" Phoenix groans and pulls the covers back over her head.

She receives another swift slap around the head. Trixie grabs the blanket and pulls it away.

"This is how we prepare each morning, how we stay on our toes and keep fit," Trixie explains. "You're a good runner, yet ya don't work to develop yourself. Imagine what you'll be like after a few weeks of solid training."

"I don't want training," Phoenix lies. "I just want to sleep."

"Right now ya do. But you've had sleep, lazybones," Trixie says, grinning. "Come on, up."

Phoenix rises, reluctantly.

"There's some leftover bath water in the washroom you got changed in before. Get cleaned and ready. There's another new change of clothes for you in there and some bread on the table for breakfast."

Trixie nods in the direction of the large table in the centre of the underground den and Phoenix sees a few pieces of crust and a slice of bread left. She sighs and says "yes mam," grabbing the bread and beginning to eat it as she heads to the room to wash. Some wet clothes are dotted around, hanging on the walls by the lanterns.

"Don't say I don't do anything for you," Trixie says sarcastically.

After Phoenix locks the door and strips off, she enters the dirty bath water, the smell of sea salt and burnt magic rising from the tub. It is surprisingly hot. She spots a couple of small wooden buckets in the corner of the room.

'I hope I'm not given water carrying duties,' she thinks to herself, still groggy and not fully awakened just yet. 'Or perhaps Falkor conjures the water and the warmth with the magic, and the buckets are just used to add a little salt water to the mix, for whatever reason.'

Her mundane thoughts fade as she relaxes.

The old metal tub is deep and wide, with slices of rust in the outside corners. Phoenix looks lost in it. She is sitting up at one end with her knees up, her face and knees above water. After a few moments she splashes water onto her face, the salt of the water seeping into her pink skin, streaking down her face. She stares at the glowing lantern beside the bath and smiles, feeling alive, feeling reborn somehow.

Phoenix sinks beneath the water, gently closes her eyes and lets her face and body fully submerge. She lies there still, and breathes out deeply, the bubbles from her breath dashing to the surface. Her heartbeat slows; she feels content and ready to start her training. While her eyes are closed, thoughts run through her mind:her mother's face, a smile turning to sorrow; Trixie, Django and Seven standing with arms crossed; Chrim crying, bloody and broken; Alexandra scowling with contempt. The visions blend together but do not pain or anger Phoenix at this moment. Instead, they give her some kind of focus, a disturbed clarity.