Firesong Read online

  "Die, freak!" the bandit growled.

  "No, you." Sasha's voice wasn't loud when he replied, it was barely more than a whisper.

  The man brought his club down to shut him up, but the wood combusted before it even reached Sasha, who was rising into the air. Sasha suddenly let out an ear-splitting, ever-increasing screech.

  In an expending circle, a conflagration spread from Sasha ever wider even as his cry grew higher. Windows exploded into shards, roofs burst into flame, and the men—who were now trying to flee—were thrown back, their skulls cracking upon impact with the walls of the building they crashed into.

  Villagers were shouting, running away in a panicked crush. Sasha kept screeching, ever higher, ever deadlier. He would bring down the whole town if it meant ridding the world of its Council.

  "S-Sasha."

  Sasha's eyes roamed over the street. Had he heard something? On the ground below, Miller's eyes were turned towards him, reflecting his pain. His lips moved to call Sasha's name again.

  Sasha's throat constricted, his cry died instantly, and he fell limply to his feet.

  Chapter Nine

  Love

  Miller kept his eyes on Sasha's as his firebird hurried to his side. His body hurt all over. Breathing was becoming difficult. His eyelids were growing heavy.

  Sasha knelt beside him. "Stay with me," he murmured.

  "I-I love you," Miller croaked, not caring that speaking was sapping what little remained of his strength.

  "No. You can't leave me. Not you, too." Tears of fire welled up in Sasha's eyes and it tore at Miller's slowly fading heart.

  "I'm … sorry."

  "Shh." Sasha reached for one of his hands. Miller gasped in pain: he'd broken that wrist when he tried to shield himself from a swing of the club. Sasha reached for the other one and brought it to his lips. His tears were rolling freely down his cheeks as he kissed the back of it. "I love you too."

  He leaned over Miller and kissed him on the lips. As he did, his tears fell on Miller's face, steaming upon contact. Miller gave another gasp and Sasha jerked back, watching in horror. Soon Miller's eyesight was blurry from the smoke clouding his face.

  Miller closed his eyes, and he waited. The feeling of nothingness he had been expecting didn't come. If anything, he felt better with every passing moment.

  He looked up at Sasha and the look of wonderment he saw there gave him hope. Not only was Sasha clearly happy, his eyes kept returning to Miller's ruined cheek.

  Hesitantly, Miller lifted a hand, barely registering that his wrist no longer hurt—nor any other part of him, for that matter—and stroke his fingertips down his face.

  No more ridges, no more bumps. His skin was as smooth as a baby's.

  With a laugh, he let his full hand cup his cheek, savoring the feel of new tissue. Tears ran freely from his eyes, and he thrust himself into Sasha's arms. Sasha began to kiss him, first on the lips, but then he quickly moved to Miller's cheek to check on his own unexpected spellwork.

  "We really have to work on your temper," Miller said when Sasha gave him a few seconds to breathe.

  Sasha grinned and shut him up.

  That night, Sasha waited until Miller was fast asleep, snoring from overexertion, and left the house alone. Swift as only his race was, he flew into the dark skies and veered towards town.

  He alighted in the courtyard of the Council Hall, the biggest dwelling around. Candlelight was dancing in the window on the left: the Head Councilor's office.

  Not wanting to alert any except those who were concerned by what he had to say, he didn't make as grand an entrance as he had in the street earlier that day. He chose instead to melt the glass door into a puddle over which he hovered and set foot gently into the room.

  The full council was present, certainly to discuss their failed assassination attempt and the ensuing events. All the better—he wouldn't have to repeat himself or fear his message would get distorted. They gaped in terror, cowering in their seats. One, Louis, Sasha surmised from the apotechary sign on his coat, whimpered.

  "I will say this once and once only," he started as five pairs of terrified eyes glued to him. "Make another attempt at Miller's life, and I will level this town and melt your flesh from your bones. That is, if I have the patience to wait and not eat you raw."

  He looked down at each in turn, enjoying the play of fear and horror that crossed their ugly faces.

  "Am I being clear?"

  They nodded in unison.

  "Am I being clear?" he repeated in a threatening hiss.

  "Yes, Lord," they cried out.

  For good measure, and strictly out of spite, Sasha set a fire under their chairs. The wood burned quickly, but the flames were extinguished when their fat asses collapsed on them. Gasping, they leapt to their feet, slapping their hands on their smoking behinds.

  "Make sure you never forget my words."

  The councilmen started babbling all at once. Sasha didn't listen. He conjured a blazing light to hide his retreat. Although he felt confident that his magic was now all his, that something had clicked in place when he had thought Miller was dying, he wasn't about to give them any room to challenge him and risk Miller's life again.

  He pondered about all that Miller had become to him as he flew back home.

  "Where've you been?" Miller asked groggily when Sasha climbed back into bed, instantly snuggling into his side. "You left the house, why?"

  Sasha frowned. "How did you know?"

  Miller smiled sleepily as he nuzzled against him. "Got cold."

  Sasha laughed softly, a cooing sound. "Water child."

  All of a sudden, as though he had just remembered something important, Miller opened his eyes. "I could have sworn I felt Mom earlier, when … you know."

  Sasha smiled lovingly, caressing Miller's newly healed skin. "I told you they were watching over you. So am I now."

  Chapter Ten

  Family

  Miller was happy. His guilt over his parents' death notwithstanding, he had only ever been merely okay with his life. Sharing it, his chores, his free times, his bed, everything, with Sasha had made it all seem like a constant dream. One he didn't want to wake up from.

  One from which he was unceremoniously torn that day.

  A cry pierced the peaceful quiet, a haunting, marvelous sound. Four times the call was answered, each one in its own wondrous voice.

  Then they appeared, the beautiful birds—all feathers of flaming red with beak and talons of pure gold. Their tails that swayed behind them, the combs on top of their heads, and their gracefully beating wings were all lit at the tips by the fire that burned within them.

  The air they stirred as they flew down towards Miller buffeted his face, warmed by their sole presence. As they descended, their forms started to change, looking more human.

  They were resplendent creatures, the phoenixes. But no beauty in that world or the next would have gotten over the hollow that had become Miller's heart.

  Sasha appeared at his side and looked with a mixture of disbelief, hurt, and need as his family shifted fully to their human forms.

  Miller tightened his fingers around Sasha's, but Sasha slipped them out and walked towards them. Already Sasha was leaving him behind.

  "What are you doing here?" Sasha asked, all his usual confidence burnt up.

  His mother, as Miller recalled from Sasha's memories, stepped forward, her hands joined in front of her mouth. "I am so sorry, babybird. So sorry." Firetears were welling up in her eyes. "We never should—" She seemed to realize what she was saying, her eyes growing wide. "When we came back, the nest was in ruins. We looked everywhere for you. Everywhere. We didn't know where else to look, not until we felt your power a week ago!"

  To Miller she looked like an old bird, disheveled, out of life. So what if she was sincere? She abandoned her own child, had to make up her mind to return to him. He balled his hands into fists at his sides, biting down on his tongue.

  "But even if you w
ent back, you left me." Miller's anger drained as he heard the pain in Sasha's voice. He looked like the firechick he had never been: frail, defeated.

  His mother burst into sobs, tears streaming down her face. "Please come back with us, son. I'm so sorry." She reached out to him, open-armed.

  Sasha looked back at Miller, his eyes a universe of pain. Miller smiled, trying to be the solid tree where Sasha could stand firm in the storm of emotions. Sasha frowned, in thought, and then he shook himself, a bird ruffling his feathers and turned back to look his father, his siblings, then his mother in the eye. "No, I don't think I will."

  Miller's brain tried to process the words even as his heart leapt with joy. Sasha stepped back and linked their hands again.

  "This man was the only one who never judged me, never made fun of me. He took care of me, nursed me back to health when you abandoned me."

  Sasha's mother gave a strangled cry and buried her face in her hands.

  "Look what you did to your mother!" his father shouted indignantly, puffing up like an angry owl.

  Sasha tightened his fingers around Miller as he felt him take a step forward.

  "Don't!" screamed his mother shrilly. The glare she gave his father would have melted an iceberg in a second. "He has every right to be angry, every right to hate us. It is at my own shame that I cry now, at what I have done to my hatchling. How can he ever look at me again and see the one who brought him into this world instead of the monster who left him in it alone?" She watched Sasha as she spoke but by the time she was done, her sobs had grown higher and she hid them in her palms again. The others looked chastened, guilt evident in their otherworldly, pretty faces.

  Sasha squeezed Miller's hand to let him know it was all right, then took a step towards his mother. His foot didn't reach the ground—fiery feathers sprouted from his back, propelling him forward. Even before his magic grew less erratic, he had always had the satisfaction of seeing his sibling's envy over his ability to fly while in human form. No other phoenix that he knew of was capable of it. For once, though, he didn't let himself bask in the obvious desire on his siblings' faces.

  Gently, he pulled his mother's chin up. "I do not close the nest, Mother. I will come to visit you and you are free to come back here—if Miller agrees." They both turned to Miller, who nodded after a while. "But I wish to stay here …" His cheeks turned pink. "I want to make my own nest here, roost with Miller." He looked over his shoulder, trying to convey all that he felt for Miller in this one glance.

  His mother took his hand in hers, brought it to her chin. "He makes you happy, this man," she said, and it was no question.

  Still, he replied with a nod and he let out a string of melodic notes that made even his father tear up. "He does," Sasha replied afterwards.

  His mother smiled, both sad and happy at once. She nodded and hugged him. "Be a good bird, okay? Be careful with your magic." She grabbed Sasha's upper arms tightly in her claw-like grip. "And please do visit."

  "I promise," said Sasha, with a cry denoting his sincerity.

  Fin

  About the Author

  Terry has always loved making up stories. Even before he could write or read, he could be found changing around Disney's stories after he'd watched the movies. The youngest of five, the odd one out, he grew up constantly bored because his siblings were "too old to play", so making up stories was really a necessity. At 11 he was hooked by the Harry Potter phenomenon, and by 16 he really couldn't wait for the damn translations to be made so he decided to go for the original versions. Since then he mostly writes, reads and watches TV in English.

  He can be reached via many social networks and blogging sites, among others:

  terrymilien.jimdo.com

  @TerryMilien

  facebook.com/terrymilien

  terrymilien.tumblr.com

 

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