Song of the Phoenix

Prologue

Dusk was coming. Indeed, the sky had but diminished into darkness, with the last rays of sunlight draining away like streamers. The horizonline already seemed to melt away, yet all, or most people, would know that it was still there. That impenetrable border between sea and sky, sky and land.

Then stars, slowly at first, like as if clumsy hands were lighting them, began to sparkle, glinting in the dark, velvet sky. Followed by the rising of the moon, its crest raising with such a grace that no one could ever accomplish.

Such perfection, such normality. Dusk had set.

And with the dusk came the haunting sound of light horse steps, treading their way into the heavens, up and above. They said that if one looked closely, one would be able to see that horse, and, if lucky, the rider. Or, on this special occasion, the group of horses and riders.

The purple light now shone brighter than ever, illuminating their ghostly outlines. Yet they were, strangely, solid. Figures, riding into the dark sky, with flowing hair and steeds of skylight. The ancient rituals fulfilled, they were riding, once again, to their home in the sky. The sky people.

The Gweiss smiled. It wasn't pleasant, it wasn't mirthful. It was little better than a leer, and far worse than a glare. A smile that slowly raised his distorted, blurry mouth, showing what he had been made from – pure shadows. And he had reason to be happy. That particular Gweiss had been waiting for one entire millennium for that particular moment, the segment in time that would secure his prize, his triumph. If he could manage to complete the feat, that is.

The Fanguals, putrid, smoking bodies of soot with basically no material in them except for that order and intelligence infused into them by their master, started to hiss and jitter at the approach of the riders. They had been waiting with the Gweiss as well, waiting for the precise moment when they would be able to satisfy that hunger that had been hammered into their mind, a hunger that would never end until the deed was done. And they knew that that satisfaction was close. Even as such lowly beings, they could smell victory, they could smell the prize.

"Quiet!" snarled the Gweiss, abandoning his made form and slithering, with amazing speed, towards the Fanguals. "My prey is near. Do you wish to return to dust with that enormous hunger unfulfilled?"

Even though the Fanguals could not talk, they had discovered the gist of what their master had been saying. With a guttural bark, they resumed their watch, hiding in the clouds that hid them away from their quarry.

The sky was becoming even darker, dropping like a stone into that darkness whence nothing should come out of again. The sun had been swallowed by the horizonline, only to return in the dawn, but nevertheless it had disappeared. It was only a matter of time before the Gweiss's victim was powerless, without the sun to light the sky.

Tension started to build. The time was only a few minutes away – or perhaps only a few seconds. One of the Fanguals gave a low growl. The quarry was near, it was nearly over.

"Go! Gerskelmina harig! Gerskelmina harig! I want the boy alive!"

Simultaneously, the Fanguals produced a blood chilling howl. The dusk seemed to reverberate with the horror and nightmare of the sound, immediately dampening the beauty of the dusk, turning it ice cold. Even the wind started to whip in the other direction, bringing with it stinging sands that embedded into the sooty flesh of the Fangual. Yet they advanced, unheeding to the change they had caused to the dusk, eyes intent on the prey.

Their quarry was a party of the Caeringerhi, the sky-dwellers. Their unbelievably pale faces, light blue eyes and white blond hair confirmed them as such, even though there were few beings that rode skylight horses into thin air.

The Fangual howled again, with the same result, but the Caeringerhi seemed unaffected, though they started to ride quicker with a sense of urgency. Their pale faces, already deadly white, seemed to go even whiter from fear. Even the horses, with their eyes of pure sunlight, started to jitter uncontrollably, only to be calmed by the firm hand of the owner, guiding it ever faster towards the heavens.

The sky-dwellers were getting away, riding with pure elegance into the sky, up and further up to where they lived. Up and up, further than any other being would ever go. The Gweiss had failed, he had not caught them, and he had not attacked them.

Then a sudden boom shook the night. Sound waves rippled violently through the air, coursing like lightning into the once peaceful night. The sea shook, the land shook, the stars shook. But then it was over right after it had just begun. Just like a snap, just the clap of a hand.

"The deed is done. It is over!" screeched the Gweiss, shouting at the heavens.

The Gweiss looked at the boy that he had in his arms. Pressing his deformed and warped face near him, he leered, and spoke in a low, rasping language that floated like a nightmare into the air, shimmering like a cold star before it flashed, running into the boy through his open mouth. The Gweiss felt his body go limp in his arms. Finally, he had his prize.

Turning the boy towards him again, he glanced over what he had won. He could already relish the fact that he had imprisoned one of the most important sky-dwellers. Then, slowly, his leer disappeared. He looked closely at the boy's forehead. There, his Elder had said would be a sapphire pendant. The jedwaïa mŏstkria, the symbol of sky royalty. But there was nothing like that on this boy. All he had on his forehead was a gold droplet of blood. The Gweiss made a sound that was a cross between a snarl and a howl. Anger emanated from him like hot tongs of flame. Stretching out his unnaturally long fingers, he blasted the Fangual with a single word, trying all he could to drown the anger that suddenly flared uncontrollably in his mind.

"A millennium of planning, wasted!" he cried.

His voice was no longer the raspy one from before, but a bellowing, screeching sound above all human capability. The air around him started to shimmer in a violent blood colour, radiating from him like heat. He looked at the heavens, hellfire now burning in his eyes. If anyone had been so unfortunate to have come across him then, they would surely have been reduced to ash.

The Gweiss looked again at the boy, limp and lifeless in his arms. Even though he knew that he was still a sky-dweller, the Gweiss had no use for him. So with a single mutter of "Zerkirati!" the boy was lifted off the Gweiss's immaterial limbs, and thrown, with a careless flick from the Gweiss, down into the darkness of the night. The Gweiss smiled as the sound of falling did not stop. The boy would be forever suspended in the fall, never to die and never to live. And he would never see the light of day, either.

So?? What do you think?