Memories

Life and Death

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Etana screamed. Tora held her head in her lap as the twelve-year-old writhed in the dust, her shoulders coated in blood. The head reared back and Etana screamed again. Tora quietly placed a piece of cloth in Etana's mouth, to prevent her from biting her tongue off.

Tora gently peeled back the top of Etana's shirt, revealing unnatural bulges on the shoulder blades. She closed her eyes.

"Do you trust me, Etana?"

Etana's silver eyes stared up pleadingly and she nodded. Tora gently held out a blindfold.

"I think you should wear this."

Etana nodded again and Tora bound it over her eyes then slid out a small wineskin. She picked up another piece of cloth, tilted the liquid from the skin into the cloth and held it to Etana's face. The girl inhaled a few times and then slumped, unconscious, into Tora's lap.

Tora placed the chloroform to one side. Then she picked up the sterile surgical instrument packs she'd 'borrowed' from a 21st century hospital.

Slowly, she shaved away the velvety fur over the shoulders. Then she carefully opened the scapel and made the surgical incisions over the shoulders. The bones were neatly folded. Tora slowly stretched them out so they were out of the body proper. They were covered in the slightest of downy fluff, as damp as a newborn chick, coated in blood and fluid. Tora quickly opened the absorbable sutures and began stitching Etana's back up. It was tedious and fiddly but she was soon done. Then to gently clean the blood off, dab the stitches in alcohol and wrap bandages around Etana's back.

She slowly propped up Etana up on a rock and waited. Etana regained consciousness slowly. The bright eyes opened.

"Wha… What happened?"

"I drugged you. Be careful."

Etana moved slowly. Her hands slowly moved to her back. She touched the soft, downy fluff that Tora had cleaned and let dry in the sun. Her eyes widened as she stared at Tora.

"What…?"

"Congratulations, Etana. It appears you have inherited your father's gifts."

Her mouth half-opened in odd amazement. Tora smiled tenderly.

"Yes. Wings. Black eagle –Ictinaetus malayensis–, if I'm not very much mistaken."

Etana frowned.

"…Father… had wings as well?"

Tora nodded.

"Yes. He flew. Spectacularly, if the tales are to be believed."

Etana drew shapes in the dust at her feet.

"What… Are there any other…changes?"

Tora nodded.

"The muscles in your back and chest will change. They will become stronger –they will have to be able to allow you to fly. Already, you are lighter than a normal girl your age –your bones are pneumatised. Instead of being solid, they are filled with a series of supports. Your skeletal structure is slightly different as well. Your lung capacity will increase. The strength of your legs too. You will become better adapted for flight."

She smiled.

"Your eyesight is already sharpening. All in all, you are more efficient than an average person."

Etana slowly tried to get up –and then toppled right over backwards. Tora caught her.

"New centre of gravity. Get used to it."

Etana wobbled as Tora supported her. Slowly, they made their way down to the house. When Etana called out, Tora slowly faded away, knowing Achav would know what to do.

"Why would a human know what to…?"

"Brother."

"Oh. Yeah. She thinks of everything!"

"Not everything."

The thirteen-year-old girl crouched behind the wall, hiding as she had been commanded to. The men were standing over Achav and Mara who were cowering in the main courtyard.

"Where is the girl?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The defiant reply was from Mara. Etana slid down lower, suddenly feeling very guilty for pouring sand into the flour cache that morning.

"Liar! You know exactly who I mean. The angel girl. Everyone knows she lives here."

Achav had been inspired by Mara's defiance.

"There is no 'angel girl'. There never was."

The sword was suddenly at his throat.

"You tell me where the girl is, or we take your head off."

Mara looked at the leader calmly.

"If you kill him, he wouldn't be able to tell you. That's if there actually was an 'angel girl'. Which I highly doubt."

"Who else lives here?"

Her guardians exchanged nervous glances.

"My niece, but she's out in the fields…"

"Call her."

"I can't. She'll be miles away. She's our shepherd…"

"Anyone else?"

"We can't afford to hire help. That's it."

"You have a choice. Tell us where the angel girl is or we take your niece. Our group could always do with a nice young woman to serve us."

Etana looked back and her eyes were wide as she stared at Tora who appeared as water haze in the air.

"Help me. Please…"

"I cannot. You know that. I cannot interfere with their lives."

"Please… They'll kill me."

Tora held out a hand with a single piece of cloth draped across it.

"They are wolves. Treat them as such."

Etana stared at the white cloth.

"I…I can't…"

"You said it yourself. They will kill you. Or worse…"

The threat was left unfinished. Neither needed to state what would happen if Etana declared herself. Slowly, tentatively, Etana reached out, her other hand going to the small worn pouch of smooth, river-shaped stones.

The man was now holding Mara up by her hair.

"We will disgrace your wife right in front of you. Where is the angel girl?"

And then a stone hit him right between the eyes, a true shot. The man fell to the ground and Mara collapsed as well. The bandits were on their guard now, looking for their mysterious assailant. Another stone flew out and hit the next man. Two dead. Sixteen left. Etana crouched low and ran along the wall to the next hiding place and managed to hit another three men. Her fourth stone failed to hit her target in the head. Instead it hit his arm and he screamed as the bone shattered.

"THERE!"

Etana stepped out, her sling in her hand and the next stone flew true. Her wings –still slightly downy and greyish- spread out threateningly. Her hair, coming loose from its plait, was shining in the hot sun. Her eyes no longer were frightened but dangerous. Etana Bat Sarah was dead. In her place stood the Shadow.

"Get away from my aunt and uncle! Or I'll kill you all! I'm not lying. I will kill you all!"

One of the men laughed. He was the next target. They hadn't realised that Etana's years of shepherding in the wilderness defending some frankly rather stupid mammals had left her with a good aim. The next stone wasn't thrown with the sling but with her arm. The force wasn't enough to kill or even stun but was enough to hurt.

Eleven to one odds weren't the best but Etana was too angry to care. She was judging the distance across the courtyard, towards the sword's hiding place. She could do it in eight steps if she had a clear run but she didn't. The men had swords, but they were made of bronze. Not the cold, smooth steel-stuff of the blade tucked away behind the amphorae of grain. Etana's hand went to the small bronze knife on her belt, used primarily for carving or cutting sheep loose. The men laughed but she knew what to do. The knife flew true and in the resulting confusion; as the man fell to the ground, blood staining his shirt in a growing circle; Etana shot across the courtyard. The hilt slid comfortably into her hand, the blade recognising its master. The quiet 'hisss' as it slid out of its sheath was threat enough. She didn't have to leap into the air with legs designed for hard landings and standing take-offs and behead the nearest man. But she did it anyway. By now the men were in confusion. A thirteen-year-old girl had just killed almost half of them; was nowhere near as defenceless as they had been led to believe; and had just produced a weapon unlike any they had seen before and was wielding it with apparent skill.

The sword had taken on a life of its own. It was all Etana could do to keep up with it. Strike, strike, strike, parry, strike. She was like the sword. Indestructible. Shining. Finally doing what she was born to do. And then she realised the last of the men were dead and she looked for her guardians. The blade –stained red- fell to the ground. The men's wits hadn't been shattered enough to stop them driving their swords into the two people without any method of defending themselves. Etana stepped forwards haltingly, so unlike the fluid movements of before.

"Uncle…? Aunt Mara…?"

She could tell it was too late. Far too late. They were holding each other. She could see their final emotions written on their faces. Achav was afraid. Whether for her or of her, she would never know. In comparison, Mara's face was proud. Pride and maybe a hint of jealously. Another halting step.

"Uncle…?"

Somehow her brain hadn't quite accepted what her eyes were seeing. She was waiting for the shout from the house, ordering her inside to clean the floors. The merry laugh. Her hand reached out tentatively. Warm. They still retained their body heat. The tactile contact seemed to snap her back to reality and she began to haltingly mutter the prayer for the dead. She finished and stood still for who knew how long. Then she heard steps and whipped around to see a man in a long dark cloak walking towards her. The blade was back in her hands as she held it in a guard position.

"Stay back! Stay back!"

He drew out his own sword, as foreign to her as hers had been to the bandits. And then, without warning, he struck. The white-red blade leapt up to parry and they were dancing back and forth across the courtyard. But she was so tired. Her arms could barely hold the blade up, the blood on the earth made moving difficult and her wings meant she couldn't squeeze into an easily defendable cranny like she once could. And then she slipped. The sword went flying out of her hand and the man stood over her. The blade was raised and Etana closed her eyes in desperation. She was going to die. She had killed –committed a terrible, terrible sin and for nothing. She was going to die, despite everything she had done.

"Azrael!"

No blade cut through her chest and Etana dared to crack an eyelid open. A woman, also dressed in black, her long hair rippling down her back. The man stepped back and a graceful hand was extended. Etana reached out in trepidation and was pulled up.

"I thank you. I am your servant."

The woman smiled an oddly ferocious smile.

"I was rather hoping you would be…"

Death smiled softly.

"Aren't you going to show Dragon begging on bended knee for me to take the girl as my servant?"

The masked woman looked over.

"You're still smug about that, aren't you? After all this time."

"What? It was one of the few times I got the ridiculous reptile to grovel."