Nightstrider
by Nyx
The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out;
At one stride comes the dark.
-"The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"
*
Night tiptoes lightly, yet bounds over the world in giant steps. She carries the cloak of darkness over the world; it is dark velvet, studded with stars and the occasional shining gem of a planet. The moon is a silent orb that hovers behind her like a lapdog stays close on the heels of its master, and it carefully meters out how much light to give. I stumble beneath Night's cloak, become entangled in it - it writhes like a living being and wraps around my legs, stopping my feet from pounding out their familiar tattoo on the dirt, pulling me down.
Night has waylaid me, and her stars are calling out to me. Helen, they say, take your place among us. Another of your name was the Queen of Sparta. Hers was the face that launched a thousand ships, that burnt the topless towers of Ilium - you deserve no less, Helen. Come to us, sleep and dream peacefully, let us carry you on the cool spring breeze up... up... up...
I stagger, stumble, and fall, hitting the icy ground with a soft thud. After pausing for a second I rise again, not noticing the delicate flowers that have been crushed beneath my weight, barely registering the pain that comes from a long, ragged scrape down my left leg. The skin has been nearly sheared off, I realize, but is held in a tenuous bond by a tiny piece of flesh; I want to stop and tear off the dead skin, but I have no time. The blood is running freely down my leg, now, but I must continue, and all other thoughts and sensations are put on hold. I must continue. I. Must. Continue. The ground seems to come up to meet me as I hurdle a fallen log, and my aching lungs beg for a moment's reprieve, but still I run. There will be no second chance on this mission.
There is a tiny cabin ahead of me, startling in its normalcy. I burst through its door and into the lamplight inside: an oil lamp from times gone by, it pushes Night away. Gasping, clutching my side, I whisper my message before collapsing in a spent heap. The man in the humble shack leans close to hear me, his ear inches from my lips - "He is here."
Without another word spoken the man jumps over my fallen body, racing outside to God-knows where, into the night. Before I allow myself to be hypnotized by the kindly face of Night, before I let my soul listen to her sweet song, I wonder what the message meant. I wonder what it was, to rate it being delivered by me - me, last of the nightstriders, last of the few who crossed continents in hours when night was at hand. Night, my enemy and my savior, my worst fear and my greatest love.
But I also wonder if "he" was the one who gave the man the lightning scar.
*finis 1/1
Disclaimer : The "man with the lightning scar" isn't mine. If he was, I'd be rolling in moolah. Unfortunately, he's J.K. Rowling's.
Sequels : Nyx does not do sequels.
Feedback : Feedback is dearly loved at nyxfics@hotmail.com
More Stories: At Nyx's site, at www.geocities.com/nyxfics
Note : This story was meant to inspire people's imaginations, not to
tell you what happened. If someone wants to write a fanfiction based on
this, I don't care. If you want any more, you can write it yourself.