Paradox and Sacrifice

[Rahsash Geldich]

The hallway loomed as he ran down it, breath ragged in his throat, hand slipping on his sword. The number plates swam in his vision as he searched for the right one.

 

...56...58...60

 

The screams of the dying mixed with the battle cries of the living into a cacophony that nearly drowned out coherent thought. An enemy sprung up in his vision and reflexes brought up the blade. His wings half-opened in an intimidation stance, the red, gold, and black feathers tattered but no less imperious. He was the Lord of the Night; all would tremble as he restored the Balance. The centaur was soon beheaded and he continued on his quest, footprints of red keeping up with him, following him through his dreams.

 

…67…69…71

 

A piece of midnight hair fell into his eyes as he finally stumbled upon 75. A key was roughly shoved in a lock and the door panel opened without a sound. Or perhaps it did make a sound and he just missed it.

 

The walls were smeared with handprints of the red that pooled on the floor and drip-drip-dripped down a drain shaft in the center of the room. He fell into a kneeling position and crawled on bruised knees to the source. Her silver blonde hair was stringy and dirty, a shower that hid everything about her before her slender waist. His hands pulled it away from her face with the incomprehensible actions of one who has lost something dear and now has nothing else to care about. Tears of liquid moonlight seeped down his grime-encrusted cheeks and fell to land on her broken face. A large gash mended, a bruise the size of his fist shrinking from its swelling and becoming part of her usual ivory complexion.

 

“Tirand… You’ve come.” Her voice was hoarse and weak, pained.

 

“How could I not?” The Destroyer picked up one of her hands, brushing the twisted structure against his face as his tears flowed afresh. He moved to place an arm around her shoulder, to pull her up against his chest and cry until there would be no more reason, but she whimpered as his fingers touched torn flesh.

 

“Gods! What did they do to you?” Fires against them blazed in his heart, seen in his eyes.

 

“I didn’t tell them where you were, love…” Her voice cracks and she inhales sharp enough to arch her back up off the floor. “They wanted to know so bad, and I didn’t tell them you were attacking soon… The thought they could get me to tell…” As she trails off, a faint cough brings up blood from where it is congealing in her lungs. He wipes it from her lips without caring, staring into her eyes.

 

“You should have. Eterini…. Gods above you should-“

 

“Sacrifices. We both are required to make… Sacrifices.” He trickles a bit of healing magik into her body, trying to fix what has been too long broken.

 

“Why?”

 

“How should I know what the gods ask of any man? And stop that, there is not much time left for me.” He finishes a bit on her back and cradles her in his lap, wrapping his wings around them in a protective stance.

 

“Of course there is… You’ll be just fine as soon as I get a real Healer in here. You’ve got to pull through.” The statement is both a plea and an order. Neither is going to be given much by means of granting. She takes her hand, the one he has not entwined his fingers with, and shows him how the blood is seeping an unnatural glowing blue. He does not look, but has already seen on his own hands.

 

“My lifeblood.” He closes his eyes and whispers incoherent words. A soldier of his army sticks his head through the door and shouts an angry curse. Her eyes flutter shut as his snap open and he turns to the opening in a violent, fluid motion.

 

“What is it you need?” There is no trace of weakness, no trace of loss written in any line of his tense form. The soldier sees nothing but a general aiding a priestess in her last moments.

 

“The enemy forces have a great weapon that is advancing this way. The troops are worried, Lord.” A curt nod is give to the explanation.

 

“I will join you shortly.”

 

“But, sir-“

 

“Go. Now.” The voice is too dangerous to bargain with and the soldier leaves at a run.

 

She is unconscious now, and he sweeps her off the floor and barrels back down the hall. There has to be water here, somewhere. Perhaps… A sharp left puts him in a room with a deep pool of crystalline water, probably designed for torture, judging by the chains tethered at the bottom. He walks down some steps leading into it and stops where the frigid depths reach his chest.

 

She is floating and a golden light consumes her, and she is as he first saw her, half woman, half fish, pearl white scales and large tail fin, transparent and lifeless, as it never was then. She thrashes a bit at the end of the transformation and her warm brown eyes open back up as she lies in a cloud of blue and red blood.

 

“Tell me again, what’s that thing they say… The one about the fish and the bird.”

 

His memory flashes to a night where he did just this, held her in a loving embrace and lost himself in her eyes. The similarities ended there, as the memory was under a star-studded sky that watched as he frolicked to forget the worries of being the Phoenix. The bird and the fish was a story from his homeland.

 

Her kiss still sits on his lips as he grinns at her.

 

“A bird may love a fish, but where would they live?” Her tail splashes a bit of water up at him.

 

“You’re the one telling the story.” He laughs, tickles her in a childish action that sends her laughter soaring to the sky with his.

 

“Truly a paradox is the position of the bird that loves the fish.” He pauses for breath and she slowly brings his fingers to her mouth and kisses them, waiting for the story that seemed to explain all their troubles as something that they would overcome. Could have overcome.

 

“For although their love is great, one has wings for the air and the other wings for the water. And which one is devoting the rest of their life wingless so that both might be happy? The paradox does not lie in the answer of which, but rather why. For whichever one gives up their wings, must never regret the action. How can one make a decision without knowing the exact details of the dealings? How can one say they will not miss breathing if they have never not been able to for taking the action for granted?”

 

“Tell the rest.”

 

“General!”

 

A paradox. His love is dying in his arms, his cause dying at his absence.

 

Sacrifices.

 

A fierce kiss is given to her, taken knowing that would be his decision.

 

“I will always love you Eterini. My heart is, was, and will be yours till the end of all time.”

 

“Sir! If you are not with us in exactly one minute, we will all die!”

 

“Take my ring and be gone, Tirand, love.” He pulls the ring of her goddess off of the chain at her neck and hangs it around his own. He is chased out the door by the blinding flash that is her death.

 

The Phoenix Rises again and leads his people to victory.

 

“That’s it?” He nods, smiling at her reaction to the story, as he knows her response would be that.

 

“I don’t like the way it ends, make a new ending. She caresses his feathers, running her fingers through his hair as she coos the words.

 

“Alright then.” As he thinks, he is struck by what she really wants to hear. “But as it is a paradox, one solution can be this. As long as the fish loves the bird and the bird the fish, they are each other’s wings and have no need to give up their own. Thus all is met and the paradox sustained.”

 

“Much better.”

 

He yells a fierce shriek that is his own, his own birds’ battle cry. Blood flows freely on his sword again, retrieved from the room and put back in his hand. All is ashes and flames.

 

Edited by: Rahsash Geldich at: 11/17/02 4:19:58 pm

Edited April 29, 2004 by Alaeha

[SoaringIcarus]

Bravissimo. Your fluidity is nothing short of admirable.

[Gyrfalcon]

*applauds loudly* Excellent story. *looks at the Elders* I don't suppose that can suffice as her Weenie-B-Off post, can it? It doesn't have the word in the title, but... its quality!