I, Fawkes, am a tall, strong stallion and I have been given a great gift to help me on my quest to help the world. My horn is sharp, flames are hot and I am no coward. May evil tremble at the sound of my name and flee before my power. I shall not suffer innocents to be harmed this day or on any to come, that is my guarantee.
A warm velvet night had settled itself comfortably over Shrilal and, for several hours, it was an unremarkable one. As the moon reached the top of the sky however, something changed. A tree, which had until now been brown-trunked and orange leaved, burst into flame sending the few Nequus nearby who had come to visit their own trees scattering for safety. An observer would have noticed something odd about the fire if they had lingered to watch. Though the flames enveloped the brown-trunked tree utterly, they did not spread to its neighbours.
For some minutes the flames crackled about the tree and the strangeness went on, for they seemed to wreath the wooden tower rather than to harm it. Eventually, the orange and gold tongues began to climb the tree, pulling away from the roots and trunk to rise up to the branches. In their wake, the tree was changed; where once rough brown bark had grown, a smooth coating of ash grey showed itself.
A few braver Nequus began to creep back towards the strange happening at this point, peering fearfully at the changing tree and its strange fire. Under their gaze, flames scrambled along branches until only the leaves of the tree seemed to burn on and the watchers crept a little closer.
A moment later there was an almightily explosion of fire which incinerated the leaves and sent the Nequus galloping in fear once more.
Had any of them remained behind, they would have seen the resulting ashes coalesce into the shape of a fruit with orange and gold plumes. As it was however, they did not and indeed none of them returned to see their trees for quite some time.
So it was that not a single living soul witnessed the first rebirth of Fawkes the Phoenix.
*****
It was some weeks later and the ash-born fruit had grown appreciably. As the sun clambered laboriously through a grey sky, the fruit began to twitch and as the fiery orb reached its zenith the strange thing dropped to the ground. It burst into a cloud of grey particles on impact and, as the ashes settled, a small colt sneezed and peered about at his surroundings with confused red eyes.
“What in the name of- gaah!” the foal exclaimed as he heard his high pitched voice and spotted his tiny legs folded awkwardly to the side. His tiny grey legs. Fawkes blinked and tried to remember what could have happened to put him in such an inexplicable situation.
The silver stallion. The falling beam. The fire… had the fire spoken to him?
“Phoenix,” he muttered aloud, “what in the name of the Gods is a phoenix?” Apparently it was something to do with fire, and to do with not dying when one ought. The fire… he’d felt as though… as though he’d gone into and then there had been a period of nothingness. Apparently he had spent that time inside a fruit.
The short-maned colt shook himself mentally and clambered to his hooves. He took a few paces, wobbled and keeled over again. He cursed softly to himself; apparently being a phoenix meant you had to learn to walk again. Oh great, he was going to have to deal with that horrible hormonal period when the only thing he could think about was mares too, wasn’t he?
These small thoughts, and his struggles to get back to his hooves, kept the young Ichsa’s mind from bigger questions. He did not consider, for example, how exactly he had ‘gone into the fire’ and ended up attached to his tree once more. Nor did he consider what on earth he was to tell his parents when he found them.
He did however consider what he would do to that silver Ichsa when their paths crossed again.
The foal smiled grimly to himself, there would be a reckoning; nobody killed him and got away with it. Apparently. The murderous b*****d was probably out there right now gloating and coating his horn in the blood of yet more innocents. As the hate for the other Ichsa resurfaced, Fawkes felt a tingling in his legs. When he looked down at them, he cried out in alarm, stumbled backwards and landed on his rump, staring down at himself once more.
The flames that had momentarily wrapped themselves about him were gone.
Fawkes gulped. “Oh my.”
Apparently there was a little more to being a phoenix than he’d hitherto realised.
*****
The young Ichsa slowed as he approached the pair beside the stream. They were unchanged, utterly unchanged so far as his eyes could tell him. What else had he expected? It hadn’t been so very long since he’d seen them last, more or less two turns of the seasons now he thought about it. Yet so much had changed. He was young again; not young as in a stallion in the prime of life, young as in not yet full grown and still with flecks of grey in his coat.
He’d thought about what to tell them ever since that first day but two years on he still had no idea. What
was there to say? That he’d died, but not died? The changes in his body could not be denied, though he might have been tempted to wait for his coat to be fully orange gold again had it not been for his eyes. Those, he thought, were here to stay so he might as well have evidence to show his parents, to show that he really had been reborn by his fire not just gone crazy with the new power.
Well, best to get it over with then.
Fawkes cleared his throat and said “hello,” which under the circumstances was pretty much the only thing he
could say no matter how silly it sounded to his ears.
The adult Nequus turned as one creature to regard him. For a moment their faces were still. Then his father’s jaw dropped and his mother fainted into a pretty heap in the fragrant grass.
Some minutes later, when the mare had been revived, she joined her mate in staring like a codfish.
Fawkes coughed uncomfortably. “So… I umm… I apologise for being away for so long,” he mumbled, “there were… issues.”
“Fawkes,” the phoenix’s sire managed after a moment, “you… you’re young and your eyes are… are…”
“Red,” the tendril-winged Nequus supplied helpfully, “I know. Scared myself half to death when I first saw them in a stream… I have a lot of explaining to do here, don’t I?”
Both Ichsa nodded dumbly.
Fawkes took a deep breath and nodded. “Right, here goes then…”
The sun had nearly set by the time the young Nequus had told his story twice over, gone back to clarify various details and answered his parents’ questions as best he was able.
“So, naturally I’m going after him,” the golden-horned youth said into the silence that signified the digestion of much confusing information.
The silence was ended abruptly by his parents shouting, “what?” in stereo.
The red-eyed Ichsa sighed; he’d just known they’d react like this. “Look,” he said hurriedly, “a monster like that can’t be allowed to live on and who better than me to go after him? I’ve fought him so I know his tactics, he thinks I’m dead so the sight of me will put him off balance, I’ve got power others don’t and if I get into trouble I can just… err… do whatever it was I did last time and come back.”
It made sense, he knew it did but somehow he doubted his sire and dam would see it the same way. They were his parents, their instincts told them to protect him. Gods knew they’d been worried enough about what he did before he’d got himself killed doing it, what would they be like now?
“I think you’re right Fawkes.”
Fawkes and his father exchanged glances before turning to stare at the mare who had just spoken, waiting for clarification.
The elegantly built Nequus smiled over at her son before turning to her mate. “Listen my love,” she said softly, leaning over to nuzzle his face, “our son has made several very good points. He’ll be safer doing this than anyone else in the world and if we keep him from this task who knows how many parents will lose foals to the silver menace? Besides, I suspect that he’ll go ahead with his plans with or without our permission, won’t you Fawkes-love?”
The grey-flecked Ichsa smiled ruefully; much as his mother was dim at times, she was good at reading people. “Yes mother, I shall. I’ve been given a great gift and I want to use it to make the world a better place for everyone to live in. If that hurts you I’m sorry but I must put the greater good first. I hope you understand.”
Fawkes' sire gave a weary sigh and nodded his head slowly. “Alright,” he muttered, “you always were the idealist. I know you could never be happy letting a brute like that run around unchecked. When do you leave?”
Fawkes’ eyes hardened and he turned the red orbs to the north, to Ryuten and the site of his first death. “Tomorrow at down. I’ve no time to waste.”
*****
It was spring, the same time of year, but the cold of winter had come and gone twice since the phoenix had bid farewell to his parents. The Silver Reaper, as he had become known, had proved hard to track down. Many places and people bore the scars of his passage but nobody ever seemed to know which way the stallion had gone as he sped out of their shattered lives.
The gold-flecked stallion had all but given up his search a month ago, probably would have given up had it not been for the red-speckled Aeri stallion who stood by his side half way up the mountains of fire.
“There,” the massive Nequus rumbled, tossing his great head at the cavern they faced, “he’s made his home in there for near half the season. This is as far as I can take you, though. For all my size I am no warrior, not like you young Fawkes. Your horn holds the hope of us all, farewell for the present and good fortune.”
The red-eyed stallion bowed deeply to the leather-winged giant. “You have my thanks Redfleck,” he said as he rose, “I shall not fail in this task.” He felt a little guilty, the Ichsa considered as he strode towards the cave, for not mentioning his powers to the Aeri but some instinct had bid him keep his silence on the matter. Not everyone looked kindly upon magic.
As he drew closer to the cave, Fawkes became increasingly aware of the sound of his hooves, of his breath, of the beat of his heart and of the little puffs of red dust caused by his passage. This was it, justice for all those this beast had ever harmed and an end to his reign of terror.
”Reaper!” the young stallion bellowed as he stepped into the entry way. “Come out and pay for your deeds! Face me!”
For a moment or two there was silence. Then came the chuckle. It was not a very nice chuckle at all and Fawkes felt his ears set themselves back and his eyes widen at the sound of it. That was not the laugh of anything with a beating heart, surely.
“Well, well, well; another challenger? Alright, I suppose I can take a minute or two out of my busy schedule to kill you.”
The gold-dappled stallion gritted his teeth at the hated voice and brought a forehoof down on the hard rock with a resounding crack. “Your past returns to haunt you, Reaper,” he called as he saw a shape moving towards him out of the depths of the cave. “Look into my eyes and see your end!”
“See my…” the silver stallion paused some little way away from the other Ichsa and squinted into the sun, “…end? I’ve seen you somewhere before, haven’t I?” the white-maned stallion muttered rhetorically.
Fawkes watched him intently, waiting for the beast to remember the night when he himself had ordered another to see death in red eyes.
“Hu,” the silver said eventually, cocking his head and grinning. “Hello there blue-eyes. So, either you didn’t die then. How very disappointing, I suppose I’ll just have to finish he job now… though I must say I’m interested to hear how you survived.”
“Simple,” the phoenix flared his nostrils and gave another stamp, summoning fire to wreath his legs as he did so, “I didn’t.”
As the other Ichsa’s eyes widened in disbelief, Fawkes lowered his head and charged, wrapping flame about his horn as he drew near his target. The seasoned silver warrior’s shock was such that he dodged too late and took the burning lance squarely in his left shoulder.
The orange-coated stallion pulled his horn back swiftly and rose up on his hind legs, focusing his power on his forehooves as he did so and slamming them down on the withers of his stunned foe before the elder stallion could react.
The Reaper was not staggered for long however, even as he cried out in pain at the twin burns he had just received he swung his head up and around to slash Fawkes painfully on the forearm.
The phoenix snarled furiously as the more skilled stallion forced him backward out of the cave. “You
will pay for your black deeds, Reaper,” he bellowed, his eyes beginning to glow and flicker like the fire that still danced about the young Ichsa’s legs.
“One day, perhaps,” the white-maned stallion agreed, making another stab with his horn which forced his opponent further out of his home, “but not today.”
Fawkes wheeled aside from another blow, responding with a slash of his burning weapon to the other Ichsa’s shoulder. The time for talk, so far as he was concerned, was over. They’d traded insults and both of them seemed sure that they would be the victor; there was nothing else important to be said, and Fawkes had no intention of distracting himself for frivolous speech with a monster of a Nequus.
Bellowing and screaming at one another, the stallions fought on.
It was some time later and the silver Ichsa was bleeding most satisfactorily, not that he seemed to have noticed. Indeed, his attacks were as sure as ever; one moment he might seem to be going for the throat only to twist his head at the last moment and use the less experienced fighter’s dodge to slash his horn down the gold-dappled Ichsa’s barrel.
Fawkes gritted his teeth at the latest in a long line of cuts, this one to the side of his neck, and leapt awkwardly backwards to avoid the follow through; he was not doing quite so well at ignoring the pain of his injuries. A chance glimpse of the sky revealed blackness; they must have been fighting for hours and he for one was tiring. The fire around his hooves and horn had run out quite some time ago, robbing him of his main advantage over the stronger and more skilled Ichsa.
At least he couldn't die...
Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t actually
died in the two-legs’ building. He’d… well he’d done the fiery thing before his last breath. If he actually died would that be that? The young stallion gave an internal shudder at the thought and redoubled his efforts, rearing upright and prancing backwards, hooves striking of viciously and catching the Reaper squarely on the muzzle. Fawkes grinned and took advantage of the other stallion’s stagger; this was the first thing that had gone his way in quite a while.
“b*****d!” the bloodied silver spluttered indistinctly, “you’ll pay for that insult.”
The bloodlust in the white-maned Nequus’ red eyes made Fawkes gulp and he decided to make use of the only thing he had over the other Ichsa, namely speed, to make a tactical withdrawal. A glance over his shoulder made Fawkes redouble his efforts; the beast was coming at him like an avalanche.
As he turned his gaze forwards once more, the richly coloured stallion was just in time to see the world swing wildly in front of him. The young stallion tried to recover from the stumble but succeeded only in ploughing along the ground on his knees. A yelp of surprise came from behind him and the phoenix swung his head around to see the Reaper trying, and failing, to stop.
White hooves slammed into his backside and the larger Ichsa pitched clean over the top of him.
A moment later, there was another anguished cry and the white-winged stallion vanished from view.
Fawkes blinked dazedly and staggered back to his hooves, trying to work out what had just happened. As he regained his balance, he spotted the cause of his foe’s sudden disappearance. Mere inches in front of him the world dropped away and, leaning forward, the battered young Ichsa was just able to make out the body of the Silver Reaper broken across sharp rocks far below.
“Remarkable,” rumbled a deep voice from behind him.
Fawkes started and stumbled about to see who had spoken. As he made out a massive shape through the gloom however, his smiled. “Hail Redfleck, it seems my task is complete.”
The massive Aeri chuckled and began to approach the smaller Nequus. “Indeed it does,” he said with a nod. “A most admirable effort,” he went on as he drew level with the fine-boned Ichsa.
The red-eyed stallion smiled and bowed his head low, trying to calm his breathing and heartbeat. “My thanks sir.”
“Almost makes this a shame,” the leather-winged creature murmured as though Fawkes had not spoken.
The young stallion raised his head, a frown of confusion overtaking his face. “Almost makes what a shame?” he quizzed.
The red-speckled Aeri smirked. “This.” And with that single word, he rose up to his full height and brought his colossal forehooves down on the other stallion’s horn.
The golden spike snapped at the base and Fawkes’ roar of shock and pain masked the clatter it must have made as it struck the rock underhoof.
“Now, I’ll admit you did some good work here,” Redfleck said, casually kicking the severed thing over the edge of the cliff. “But see you were never intended to win. All I wanted you to do was soften him up for me but, since things haven’t turned out that way, it looks as though I have a loose end to tidy up.”
The tendril-winged stallion struggled to keep on his hooves, and to focus on the now suddenly menacing Aeri who had guided him so far. “Why?” he croaked as the immense stallion loomed closer.
“Why?” the stallion looked bemused. Stories of course, couldn’t have an Ichsa killing the Reaper off; that wouldn’t make a good story in the slightest. He killed my kind you see, my kind and the Reya and two-leggers so it has to be one of us that finally vanquished him. That’s how stories go, and I do dislike people who spoil my stories. So, this is how it will be told,” he stepped still closer to the weaving Ichsa. “You made a brave effort, but the Reaper threw you from the cliff to your death. As he gloated over your pathetic form, Redfleck entered the scene. Redfleck, marked by the blood the Silver Reaper once spilled from my unborn siblings. Redfleck of mighty hoof. I charged at him as he sneered over the poor dead youth and the two of us did battle. It was a clash the like of which has never been seen and we fought under a stormy sky with thunder and lightning and torrential rain crying out for the death of a murderer. Eventually, good won out and as he tried to stab out my eyes I threw him from the cliff to break as you broke. Thus justice was done; this is the truth as the world shall know it. Goodbye, Fawkes.”
As he spoke these final words, Redfleck rose up again to slam his hooves against Fawkes’ flank, sending the now hornless Ichsa pitching over the edge.
Had the Aeri not turned away immediately to thunder away and tell his tale, he might have heard a desperate mutter, might have seen a hint of the brilliant flash of fire that erupted out of the red-eyed Ichsa a moment before he would have struck the sharp rocks at the base of the cliff.
As it was though, he did not pause and so it was that none ever saw the small cloud of ashes that drifted away on the night’s breeze.
