The Phoenix and the Dragon

The lady stood, alone, at the very top of the tallest tower. Her long, red, cloak fluttered about in the wind and her lips twitched in irritation as she brushed yet another strand of hair from her face. She stared down below; down, down to the mass of flesh and bone surrounding her castle. The chill wind disturbed her not, nor did the few arrows whistling past her. Their presence merely caused her to note, somewhere, in the back of her mind, that her attackers did have decent aim.

Countless hours passed as she watched, impassive and unmoving. She knew what lay ahead of her, what sorrows and pains. She knew, too, that He awaited below. He waited, as did she, for the last moment when, with victory moments away, his sword would end her life. And his patience was unrivaled. This she knew, too, but she was determined. Her defiance of time's curse had always astounded him. This time was no different.

Except for one thing: there would be no giving up this time. He may have driven her back, back to her last, mighty fortress, but no longer. Here it would end. She would play a part in this unceasing circle no more. This time, when the time came, she would wield the final blow.

Her hand clutched the hilt of her sword, the cool metal a clear reminder of the legacy she was about to refuse.

No longer, she thought to herself. No longer will I allow destiny to decide my fate. We will end this, you and I. End it today.

For she knew he was close. She could feel his presence as he made his way to her. His fury raged around her as the wind, leaving her deaf and blind to all else. The screams of the dead and dying cut at her like a thousand small barbs, but still she remained impassive and unheeding. Her prayers were all said, her good-byes done, and all who needed her apologies had long since taken their due.

They loved her, that she knew, all those men and women down below. They'd loved her with all their hearts and she would live up to their belief in her, though she knew she'd pay with her life.

But what was it to her, one more life? She'd lived a hundred and more. This would be the last, to be sure, and her own heart ached with longing. The desire to be free pulsed within her veins, closer than ever before.

Her silence was suddenly shattered by a cry from below. The trapdoor bowed upwards with blows from the man standing in that last room. Slowly, she pivoted, drawing her dagger, and she waited.

The door gave with one last, piercing shriek of abused wood. Through that small hole burst the shape of a man, clad all in black, a sole, red phoenix emblazoned on his chest. The sword in his hands dripped scarlett blood onto the stone, the only sound in the silence.

Then he spoke: "So, Dragon, we meet again."

Her clear voice matched his. "Aye, Phoenix, but this time it shall be the last."

She struck quickly and before she could change her mind. The dagger went deep, up to the hilt, but she cried not.

The small blade flashed in the dim light and he cried out in astonishment and dismay, "No!" Leaping forward, his sword forgotten, he went to his knees beside the woman. The snarling dragon on her breast could now not be seen for the blood there. He cradled her body in his arms, his sobs lost in the roaring of the wind.

A hundred and more lifetimes sped before his eyes and though he closed his eyes, he saw them nonetheless. One after another he saw them, captive to their power, unable to move or give voice to his despair and rage.

A phoenix will always rise again, and this time it had been he.

Before that, he had been the dragon. And before that, he had been the phoenix. Alternating through the millenia they had gone, reliving the same lives, cursed to all eternity.

But this time something had gone wrong. He stared down at the beautiful face of the woman in his arms and something crept into his mind, stilling the chaos there with a single thought.

Maybe, he thought, maybe it was not something wrong, but something absolutely right.

Dawn to Dusk,
And Dusk to Dawn . . .
Times End,
To Beginning,
Beginning to End.

Light be to Darkness,
And Darkness to Light.
Thy Shall be,
Forever Again,
Again to Forever.

There was more, he could not recall, something only half-remembered in the night. His gaze fell on the bloody sword and his mind spun again in the darkness of the past. Cries of torment and despair rose up around him, then faded away as two bright souls stood before the Arbiter.

They were young, too young, he recalled. They were innocent of life and so knew no fear.

The Arbiter looked to its left and then to its right in turn, pausing each time as if to let someone, or something speak. It shook its big, feathery head, then turned its sharp eyes on the accused.

"Consent do I," it intoned. "But shall you prove thine selves worthy, thine curse shall be lifted. Take thee these words. Use them well."

The rhyme was said, the words flitting around the man's ears like so many whispers in the dark. He opened his eyes to the stillness and darkening sky of the tower, then focusing once more down on the woman cradled in his arms.

Of its own accord, his hand reached for the dagger at his hip. "Always before," he whispered, "had I to end yours and you to end mine. You knew, didn't you? That is why you chose to end it this way. I see now. I will end this curse now and forever."

The pain was as nothing to the tumult of sound and light engulfing him. He opened his eyes to a vast, open prairie, spreading wide his red wings and roaring his pride and joy to the far ends of the earth.

From above shot a black arrow, to settle before him.

You made it.

You knew that I would.