SEALS

Chapter 5: The Freedom of Flight

Even in his grief, Wander found some bright spots in life. Even this lost and forbidden country held some simple joys. The wind in his hair felt wonderful as he rode through the land in perpetual daylight. The sun shone behind gentle clouds in a sky that seemed never to change. The young warrior hadn't seen the sun rise or set. He was certain that he had been here for several days, yet Time seemed to be stilled in this place. He slept here and there at the small shrines, never sure how long he'd rested. He awakened in the Dormin's Tower after he'd felled each Colossus. He'd gone back to the place he'd found the beasts to ascertain that he had not dreamed. He'd found piles of rubble and rock. He knew what they were. As he knelt to pray for their spirits – if they even had spirits – and remembered combat with worthy opponents, the memories came back to him vividly, sepia-toned in his mind, but exciting.

Time surely stood still in this place – where lines or energies met – as the legends had described it. Wander wondered if Dormin was giving his dear Mono special protection. Hers was a corpse that was not acting as a corpse. Her breath was stilled and her pierced heart did not beat yet she did not bloat or decay. Her skin was pale, but her flesh was not breaking down. She did not even seem to be particularly stiff.

Wander remembered pausing in the forest on their journey to rub her down and massage her limbs to try to combat rigor mortis. A stiff body was difficult to carry on horseback. He'd wept while doing it and as he wiped away the blood that seeped through the bandages he'd wound around her beneath her fresh dress. Wander was not a man known for tears, but they flowed freely while he was in the darkness of the forest. The only living being there to witness the tender emotion of a hardened hunter was a large brown hawk that had alighted on the branch of an ancient oak.

Hawks had followed him to this land. They seemed like the only things that had. The hunter had noticed the lack of game in this place. This green country should be teeming with deer, rabbits, fine-furred foxes and other things to hunt. He'd think a land of open plains like this would hold wild oxen, or at least some large, tasty ground-nesting birds. As it was, there were only lizards, turtles, bats in a few of the darker places, and doves. He'd caught a large fish with his bare hands and wrestled it to shore once when he'd explored a deep pond. Wander had no idea where this newfound strength had come from. He'd eaten a little of the salmon he'd taken, because he assumed that he should eat, but the truth was that he'd felt very little hunger since coming to the Forbidden Land. It further made him wonder if he was moving around and living in a world where Time had otherwise stopped.

The hawks were big here and seemed to like to follow him when he was riding. On a whim, he'd jumped up out of the saddle and tried to catch one. To the young man's astonishment, he'd not only succeeded, but the feathered creature was strong enough to carry him for several feet before dipping and depositing him upon the muddy earth. That was definitely unnatural. Mono would have loved to see that…

She'd once said that when she died, she hoped to mount up on great wings and fly, like the hawks that flew over her family's farming fields. She'd cited an old legend that said that people's spirits could do amazing things in the Land of the Dead. It was a story that ran counter to it being a shaded, gray place of no thought and no feeling, or of so little thought and feeling that the soul might as well have been the corpse. Then there were tales of ghosts and smoke-men- all supposedly forlorn, lost souls. If the more positive idea was true, Wander could only hope that his lady had gotten her wish – but it was hard for him to believe in any of the positive myths. Perhaps, by enacting this deal with the Dormin, he was only stealing her freedom.

He thought back to all of the animals he'd killed over the years for food and money to support his family – and even to support Mono's family from time to time. Wander had hunted primarily for meat, though he'd taken furs every now and again. What flesh he'd brought home, once dried and smoked, had seen them through starvation-winters and they'd shared what they could with neighbors in need. There was no freedom in the eyes of a doe deer as she had her last spasms, only a struggle against and ultimately an acceptance of death. Mono hadn't come with him on hunting trips. Though she knew the facts of the world, she loved animals and had no wish to see the making of the sacrifices to keep her and others alive.

Wander laughed to himself ruefully as his horse galloped along a trail above an immense drop. Maybe this was the truest kind of Fate. He was a hunter, hunting down sacrifices for the sake of her living. The theme hadn't changed, only the setting and the circumstances. He did not like the circumstances, however. For one thing, he had to make use of a sword for this ritual. Wander was much more comfortable with his bow. Some men among his city's soldiers and others who boasted of their skills with weapons – those wealthy enough to wield swords – spoke of the bow as not only a commoner's weapon, but as a weapon of cowards since arrows were long-range. Wander thought of things in a different way – a well-placed arrow was a quick and merciful way to die.

He was stabbing the Colossi over and over again with the holy sword. It made him wonder why it was considered holy. He had yet to fell one of the giants with a single strike. It was unfortunately necessary. Not only were arrows tiny enough to be as insect-bites to the creatures, only this sword had the power to break the seals.

A hawk shed a feather, which fluttered down. Wander reached up and caught it. He halted Agro near a shrine, but remained mounted. He turned the light object over in his fingers and smiled. It was a rather nice wing-feather, big and reddish-brown with a few speckles of black. He'd taken one similar to it that he'd found on a small journey and had crafted something beautiful out of it. He'd carved a bit of ox-bone and had carefully wrapped colored threads around the shaft of that feather and had strung it on a leather strip as a necklace for Mono for her birthday last year. The ox bone bead served as a weight to keep the feather centered over her chest. She wore it often, but not when in ceremonial dress. It had not seemed fitting to make it a part of her funeral-attire…such a simple, poor-person's ornament.

She had adored it. It had been a symbol of flight and freedom for her.

The wanderer spurred his horse onward. He came to misty waters and what looked like the remains of a fortress over it. All was worn stone and rusted wrought-iron. He swam with his equipment secured and he climbed a high tower. It amazed him how much strength his body had been gaining lately, but he felt like something had been lost to gain it. A cold feeling settled into his heart. He heard a strange noise and knew that his prey was near. The cold feeling grew – and it came with the strangest of thoughts – the idea that he wanted to be free and he wanted to kill and that the two were inextricably linked.

Down he dove into the lake. Wander came to rest upon a platform belonging to what he guessed might have been an old fisherman's dock or a rest for swimmers, or maybe something that had been built for some arcane ceremony. He heard a birdlike screech and saw a shadow come over the already shadowed lake.

The great stone phoenix landed in a high place and just looked at him. Wander stared back. The Colossus did nothing. It appeared to be curious about him. It glared balefully as if warning him to get out of its nesting-grounds. It reminded him of the hawk that had watched him weep in the woods on his path to this ancient land.

Dormin's voices intruded upon the quiet puzzlement of his mind. Wander remained staring. He thought about what this Colossus looked like – a phoenix – a legendary bird who died and was reborn, a mythical creature that people from the Eastern lands spoke of. The fairy tales had it that the blood of the phoenix could give one eternal life, or revive the dead.

The bothersome Legion of voices had plans for the blood of the stone-phoenix and they were going to make sure their hired hunter was going to do their will. "I'll get its attention," Wander groused as he knocked back an arrow. He aimed for the sitting "hawk" and fired. The bird left its perch and arched slowly around the lake. Wander sent another arrow its way, then another, right into the tender-looking furred portion of its long tail.

Again, Wander was struck over the un-natural nature of these Forbidden Lands. The flying Colossus appeared to be quite heavy, yet it could soar effortlessly. The impressive length of its tail should destabilize its flight and make its rear dip, much like peacocks' plumage in mating-season did to the poor goofy birds, but it rode the air and the mist like a great magical cloak. Also, it was a bird with fur instead of feathers.

It came right for him with murder on its mind. Stone talons crashed into Wander, sending him flying, breathless into the cool waters of the lake. White spots dotted his vision as he instinctually flailed to keep himself afloat. He hurt all over. Desperately, he managed to swim to a sheltered area among the strange platforms, a structure that had been part of some sort of a keep. He checked his ribs to make sure none were broken. He panted and caught his breath. He wiped his face and found blood, apparently from his nose.

The enormous bird was still soaring. It seemed to be riding the air peacefully, but Wander remained wary of it. It had missed its chance to grab and crush him. He had missed his chance to jump onto its back – which was what he'd thought to do as soon as it had dipped low for him. He didn't know if he could make it.

That damned sword! If only he could make do with arrows – fill the beast full of them until it fell! He had the Limitless spell on his quiver, but he knew with a feeling of defeat that he had to use the sword. Why couldn't the power of life and death have been sealed away by someone with a sacred arrow and not a sacred sword?

"People don't hunt birds with swords!" he growled to himself. "People don't hunt anything but other people with swords!"

Mono deserved a knight, not a hunter.

Once he felt better, still in pain, but better, Wander made his way to a center platform, one that he thought would give him the best advantage for leaping. He made a satisfied smirk as a couple of his swift arrows landed home. He slung his bow back over his shoulder and brought out the sword that divided light from darkness. As the phoenix came for him once more, Wander wondered if this was going to be the end – the dissolution of the contract… He wondered if he'd see Mono again, not through bringing her back to life, but through joining her in death. Maybe the gray-world would feel like freedom just because they were together.

Instead, he leapt and got a fierce hold onto the bird-Colossus' right wing. Wander held on for dear life as the living statue gained altitude sharply and started to writhe and roll. He couldn't see any way over to the creature's head. Seals seemed to be on the head with these things, but the phoenix had a helm of thick stone armor. He looked over at the tip of the wing as it flapped. There! The hunter staggered and fell over himself as he navigated the flapping stone floor beneath him and it was only by luck that he rolled right into the seal and made haste to stab it into a ghastly spray of black phoenix-blood.

He proceeded to do the same with the left wing. After a roll, the creature remained airborne. Wander fell in a free-fall until, by chance, he grabbed some sturdy hair upon the creature's back. The Colossus leveled out in its flight again. Curiosity led Wander to make a run for the tip of the tail.

As he clumsily stabbed, he saw a vision of Mono on her birthday and his hand passing the hawk-feather necklace into hers. The memory was misty and sepia-toned: She smiled and hugged him in the vision. She kissed him gently and it sent a delightful tingling through him body and soul.

His spirit fell like a wounded hawk as he felt the altitude rapidly drop. The feather-necklace and the hands of soft flesh that had received it, the warm and tingling kiss, and the joy in his soul dissolved and turned to gray as the wanderer felt the splash of water on his face and the shadows came to claim him once again.