Title: Fire Bird

Author: Griffyn612

Rating: PG-13

Canon: Book

Spoilers: Spoilers through White Night, with mild reference to subject matter from Changes.

Warnings: Contains mild violence and language

Setting: A fan story of the Dresdenverse. Most characters are new, with a few known characters interspersed.

Disclaimer: The Dresden Files is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction.

Summary: When a creature of legend descends upon Chicago, it falls to one man to prevent the worst from happening. But it's not the man you'd think. With the clock ticking and power in the balance, Woody Hayes must race against those that seek the creature for their own means. An immortal life is in jeopardy, and protecting it just might cost Woody his own.

Chapter 1

A long day got longer when my front doorbell rang unexpectedly.

"Ugh, now what," I muttered as I dragged myself off the couch. It took more effort than it should have. I'd spent a good part of the morning filing reports at the Chicago Fire Prevention Bureau, and the afternoon and early evening was spent wrapping up an arson investigation north of the city. I'd only gotten home a short time ago, and was looking forward to a nap before going to bed.

Instead, I fumbled for my glasses on the coffee table, and then made my way to the front door, where I looked through my peephole to see who was trying to ruin what remained of the day. The sun had just set, so I had to flick on the exterior light to illuminate the bike messenger. They looked up as it came on, and I looked carefully at him. He didn't look like a flesh-eating zombie, but appearances can be deceiving.

I opened the door, and the messenger nodded pleasantly. "Good evening, sir. Express delivery. Are you Mr. Woody Hayes?" he asked.

"Yeah," I grumbled irritably. "A little late, don't you think?"

"Sorry, sir," he said without any hint of apology. "Someone paid a lot to have this delivered as soon as possible. Do you have I.D.?"

I fumbled for my pocket, but realized my wallet was on the hall table. I went to retrieve it, and showed him my driver's license. Once he'd confirmed I was the attended recipient, he held out a clipboard with a pen attached. "If you'll just sign there."

Taking it from him, I looked over the form. "Who's it from?" The only package I'd been expecting had been from my parents, and that had arrived the day before.

"A security firm, I guess?" the kid said with a shrug. "The form says some place called Monoc Securities?"

"Never heard of them," I replied with a frown as I passed back the clipboard. When he confirmed I'd signed in the right places, he passed me a paper-wrapped box.

"Thank you, sir," he said as he put the clipboard away. "Cool house, by the way."

"Yeah, thanks," I said absently, looking at the label on the package.

"Have a good evening." After he was back on the bike, the messenger took off, most likely done with his deliveries for the evening. It was already past eight-thirty in the evening, and he was probably just as eager to unwind from the day as I was. I turned and headed back in to my 'cool' house, closing and locking the door behind me.

Said house isn't your typical residence. A few years earlier, I'd been working for the city as an arson investigator when a colleague accused me of starting fires rather than simply investigating them. It'd cost me my job, but when my innocence was proven, I'd file suit. I ended up with a pile of cash to spend, and a tarnished reputation that kept me from getting a lot of work.

The pile of cash had largely gone toward purchasing my home. The old firehouse north of the Loop had been abandoned for a while, and after pulling some strings, I'd had it re-zoned for habitation. I'd manage to refinish the first floor, putting in a hallway and garage toward the front, and a living space with a small kitchenette toward the rear. The second floor had a finished bedroom and bath, but I was still working on the rest. The full kitchen on the second floor had been stripped at some point by one of its previous owners, and I was making do with completing renovations when I could.

As I headed back toward the living space, I removed the packaging. Beneath was an oak box, finely crafted and varnished. An interested trill came from the lounge area as I placed the box on the kitchen counter, and a few moments later, Sal scurried to a stop beside it.

My little friend looked like your typical salamander on first inspection, with a bright orangish-yellow coloring. His feathered gills were usually pressed tightly to his neck except for when he was excited or agitated, and his tapering tail seemed to double his length. The few that had seen him thought he was a quirky pet.

They had no idea.

In truth, Sal was a Salamander of legend. He was a fire elemental, capable of some incredible things. We'd met years earlier, when I was still a teenager, and we'd been together ever since.

"Whoa there, buddy," I said with a calming motion. Salamanders typically ate char and cinder, which meant that Sal took a particular interest in anything and everything made of wood. Over the years I'd managed to expand his diet, but keeping him from cooking up his own meal with my things seemed like a full-time job.

Sal was standing up on his hind legs so he could inspect the box. It's wasn't that large. Maybe four inches long, and maybe three tall and wide. After looking it over, I noted that the top was a sliding lid. I pushed at it with a thumb, and the top slid out one end, revealing the box's contents.

The room grew brighter the instant the lid cracked open. I squinted, and unconsciously muttered under my breath. "Lum."

At the command, my glasses tinted, growing as dark as sunglasses. Even that wasn't enough to protect my eyes from the light, and I had to turn my head away. Thankfully, after a few moments, the light dulled down to a more moderate level. I left my glasses tinted all the same. Once it wasn't trying to blind me, I looked in to the box.

Two things sat nestled within: a note, and a brilliant golden feather.

The feather was what was giving off all the light. It seemed to glow as I lifted it from the box and twirled it between my fingers. It was a small thing, but I'd never seen anything like it. As it spun, I caught hues of red and orange flickering, and the light played across the surfaces of the room. It continued to dim as I held it, until it was finally no brighter than a night-light.

Sal trilled excitedly as he looked up at it. "Any idea what this is?" I asked him, to which he responded with an excited twirl. I laid the feather back down in the open box as I took up the note. Sal leaned over the edge to sniff at it, and I wondered briefly if he was going to try and eat it. But he left it alone, so I turned my attention to the note.

Summerchild,

Included with this note is a feather from a Víðópnir. Use it to locate the bird, and protect it. You must find it quickly, as its fate will be decided by morning. If you do this, your debt to me will be considered satisfied.

Ms. Gard

"Shit," I exclaimed with as much eloquence as I could muster. My hand trembled as I dropped the note and stared at the feather. Sal looked up at me and gave an inquisitive trill. "It's from the Chooser," I explained, and couldn't keep the tremble from my voice.

Over a year prior, I'd been involved in an arson case that introduced me to a woman named Gard. My roommate, a goblin named Qilluhrang, had put me in touch with her when I needed to borrow something she'd acquired. In return for that, as well as her aide in resolving the matter, I'd agreed to return the favor at a later time. Favors and debt are the currency of the supernatural world, and they took such things very seriously. I'd known that at the time, but was willing to bargain for what I needed.

Of course, what I hadn't known at the time was exactly who I was getting involved with. Q had said Gard was a Chooser, and I'd foolishly pretended that I knew what that meant. Only later did I learn that she was most likely a Chooser of the Slain - a Valkyrie of legend.

"Sanya," I whispered, and my glasses returned to their normal state as I looked upon the box, and the trouble it contained.

It didn't seem like I had much choice in the matter. Valkyrie or no, I was in debt to Ms. Gard. She'd said at the time that she'd ask something of me. Something that would be comparable to what she'd provided me. I'd readily agreed, even though I couldn't imagine what I could possibly do for her that she couldn't do for herself. My hope had been that she'd let the debt last for a while, until some simple task could be fulfilled. I wasn't powerful, so it's not like I'd help her on some grand quest. I wasn't like the Wizard, making a habit of running around town and starting fires and pissing off the supernatural community out of sheer boredom.

I was, in fact, a nobody.

"How the hell am I supposed to use this to find the bird?" I asked Sal, who was looking at the note as if he could read it. He couldn't talk, but for all I knew, he could read with the best of them. "Wait, is it a bird? What is a…" I trailed off as I looked at the note again. "A Viopner? Voipner?"

Sal trilled helpfully.

"Yeah, right," I said with a sigh. "Now if I could just get someone to translate you."

Normally that wouldn't be a problem. My roommate Q, a surly yet tolerable goblin with odd tastes for his species, seemed to understand Sal easily enough. He often relayed things that may or may not have been said by the salamander. Maybe he was just pulling my leg, but I doubted it.

Unfortunately, Q had been gone for the last two nights, and wasn't due back until the following evening. As a crafter of magical items, he typically worked on mundane paraphernalia in between commissioned jobs. He'd just finished a big job for someone out west, though, and was off delivering it before the solstice.

Which meant that I was without one of my most useful magical resources, not to mention a friend and ally.

But one benefit of being a nobody is that I don't have to worry about the same things as serious practitioners. Unlike the Wizard and others of his level, I didn't have control of magical forces, nor the ability to harness the raw power of life and nature.

What I did have was a cell phone.

"No, a Víðópnir," Q said for the fourth time.

"That's what I said," I repeated for the fourth time. "Never-mind the pronunciation. What is it?"

I could hear the goblin sighing grumpily on the other end of the call. "It's a bird that dwells atop Mímameiðr."

"Look, could we pretend that I'm an ignorant mortal that isn't familiar with your Goblinese?"

"It's Old Norse, imbecile," Q growled. I could imagine his thin eyebrows pinching together in frustration.

"Norse," I repeated. "Like 'Valkyrie' Norse?"

"Yes," the goblin said tiredly. "It's a tree. The birds sit atop it, as birds tend to do."

"So do I need to find this tree?" I asked.

"The tree is most likely in the Chooser's domain," Q informed me. "I doubt she would be worried about the bird if it were there."

"Oh. Okay," I said, nodding. "Why is it glowing?" I asked as I twirled the feather in my fingers.

"They do that. They're beings of sun and fire," Q explained. "They're immortal, and watch over the realm, awaiting each new dawn."

"Sun and fire," I pondered. "Cool."

"Not cool," Q said with a groan in his voice. "They're a world of trouble. Almost every Slavic story of doom involves a hunt for a Жар-пти́ца."

"Whoa, you lost me again," I said, pinching my nose. "A what? Slavic? I thought you said this thing was Norse."

"Do you really think everything is just one thing?" Q grumbled. "Жар-пти́ца. Víðópnir. Phoenix. Same thing."

"Did you say phoenix?!" I asked excitedly as I shifted the phone and stared at the feather with renewed interest.

"They all mean the same thing," the goblin said dismissively. "They mean trouble. Stay away from this, Woody."

"I can't," I explained. "I'm in Gard's debt. And I'd rather not get on a Valkyrie's bad side, if it's all the same to you."

"Mmgh," Q grumbled. I waited him out, and he finally sighed in defeat. "Fine. But you better be prepared. Take everything I've given you. And don't take any risks."

"Yeah, yeah," I said. I was going to chase after a phoenix. "How do I track it?"

"Find something you can put it in," he said. "Something clear, so that you can see it."

"Right," I confirmed, and headed down into my lab.

It took some scrounging, but I turned up a petri dish that the feather fit inside. I described it to Q, and he agreed it should work perfectly. Once it was placed in the dish, I put the lid over top, and sealed it closed with some glass glue.

"Now head down to my lab, and find the black hydra-hide book on the third shelf over the troll skull."

Because that's a normal sentence you hear everyday.

I headed over to the metal grate that led down into the subbasement, which was where Q lived. After flicking on the overhead lights I'd hung, I made my way to his lab. It was smaller than mine, but it was cluttered with magical tools and objects. It took me a minute to find the book, but once I had it, he directed me to a certain page.

"Hsh isk igli—" I began, but Q cut me off.

"Don't read that one aloud!" he shouted, the phone crackling from the weak reception.

"Sorry," I said, grimacing. "But is that right?"

"No, th— —eath that," he said, the call breaking up.

"The one with the arrow?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"I just carve this into the edge of the petri dish?" I confirmed.

"Yes, but be ex— —fford to mess u— —rong spell."

"Right right," I said, hefting the book up to take it back up to my lab. "I'll get started and call you back once I'm done."

"No!" Q said, his voice warbling. "Use my la— -ching the glass. The scriving bon—"

"Okay," I said, putting the book down. I'd seen him use the scriving bone before, but I'd never actually used it myself. I also didn't know the origin of the bone, and frankly didn't care to. It looked like a finger bone, but it was too long and tapered to be human. There were sigils carved into it, and the business end was filed down to a sharp point.

"Be su— use gl—" he said, before the call dropped entirely.

"I already used the glue," I said to the dead phone. I tried calling him back, but the reception was gone. Tossing the smart-phone aside, I looked at the spell book. "Well, this shouldn't be too hard."

I put the book on the work bench he used, and placed the petri dish beside it. The scriving bone was kept in a drawer, and my fingers tingled as I picked it up. I studied it, and felt a shiver run through me. Sal gave off a pensive growl.

Pushing the feel of thing aside, I got to work. It took me a while, as I was careful to match the spell exactly as it appeared in the book. I was tempted to practice on another dish, but as this was goblin magic, I wasn't sure what would happened if I left the spell unfinished.

As I worked, I found myself growing more confident with each stroke. The spell was long, and it took the entire circumference of the dish to get all of it on there. By the end, my hand was moving quickly and surely, as if I'd done it countless times.

I belatedly realized that my hand had also grown numb.

"Shit," I muttered as I pulled at the bone. My hand was clenched around it, and wouldn't let go. I tugged at it with my free hand, and finally pried it loose. The tingling spread to those fingers, and I quickly tossed the thing back in the drawer where I'd found it.

The feeling hadn't quite returned to my right hand yet, so I balanced the book on it and picked the dish up with the other. I made my way back up to my lab, where I had better reception, and called Q back.

"Did you use gloves?" were the first words out of his mouth.

"Psssh, of course," I said dismissively. The fingers of my right hand were wiggling, as if writing something. I tried shaking it, but they kept going.

"Okay," he said. "You'll set the command word yourself after completing the spell. I recommend practicing the pronunciation a few times before you do it."

"Right. Let me go get my book." I left the equipment in the lab while I ran upstairs to fetch my Tolkien dictionary. As I descended, I looked for an appropriate word. Once I had one, I practiced reading the individual words of the spell aloud to Q, with him correcting my pronunciation.

"Alright," he muttered somewhat hesitantly. "You're ready."

"Right," I said. "If the call drops, you might want to call the fire department."

Q just grunted, and Sal took refuge across the lab. I placed the dish on the desk and put a portable copper ring around it. After repeating the spell several times in my head, I spoke it aloud as I touched the circle, and added the command word at the end. "Mentië."

The engraved spellwork on the side of the dish started glowing an emerald tone, the words flickering in an echo of my cadence. The feather in the glass spun in place, growing brighter, before settling. The lights faded from the sigils, although the feather retained its normal glow.

"Well?" Q asked.

"Let me see," I told him, and picked up the dish with my left hand; my right had finally stopped trying to write things out, and was only just coming around.

I turned about the room, facing each of the walls. As I did, the dish remained still in my hand, but the feather inside rotated, leaving the quill end pointing to the southwest.

"I think it worked," I told him, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.

"It'll only last until morning," he warned me. "It's not designed to last like your other tools, so dawn will break it down."

"That's fine," I told him. "The note said I had to find the bird by dawn anyway."

"The conclave isn't done until tomorrow afternoon," Q advised me. "But I'll be back as soon as possible."

"Take your time," I said as I shook out the numbness in my hand. "This is going to be a piece of cake."

Q grunted again, and I hung up, confident that with my phoenix compass in hand, I'd be done in no time, and free of my debt to the Valkyrie.