Fire and Air

Air feeds fire. The idea came easily to the tall figure sitting on a stone bench. Light winds that autumn had cooled ruffled his black-white mane, and the red robe that clothed his lean body. The soft touches of air cut his thoughts like sharp blades. The fragments formed into the female who made his blood burn. "Myr'an'dra," the Felinari'i sighed, his desire for the pantheress robbing him of sense, habit and the rituals that kept him sane. He knew that she, a jan'nirri as deadly as himself, would kill him if she must. For this, he had believed his feelings for her had finally died. In his solitude, he had found himself wrong.

In the garden of the Li'am'ra, Ba'sir knew no peace. The pantherine mage looked to the sky. Not even the stars could comfort him with their brilliance, for clouds that promised rain concealed them. He had considered summoning the courage to talk to Ryndi, the o'lathi master of the temple devoted to V'sri'sar, scion of sacred love. Her counsel might give rest to his weary mind. Pride and a different level of need had prevented him, for he also desired the snow leopard. The reason for her allure he had yet to fathom.

A few suns earlier, someone had tried to kill him. Ryndi had assisted mystic Te'sara in his healing, and had given him refuge in her home. However, his gratitude alone could not account for his attraction to the priest. From their first meeting, she had unknowingly offered something he desperately wanted.

He was alone with his pain, and tonight the demons howled. The rain, when it came, would only make his suffering worse. The droplets would extinguish the torches in the iron holders, but his heart would continue to blaze with confusion's flame.

A tiny light brushed past his face: the last glowing in'risi. The first freeze had taken many of the small creatures, which had a variety of different forms. Not until the returning warmth and growing days of spring would a new batch emerge from the tunnels hidden in the hardening soil to give radiance to the night.

Ba'sir studied his hands. The fingers were long and thin. Since the attack, he had not worked magic, the skill that defined him. He had not returned to the obese body that he preferred to present to the world. "Some spell-casting would be a welcome distraction," he growled. "Some practice first." He cupped his black hands, then began to sing softly, his deep voice flowing gently over foliage and stone like a vibrant brook. A ball of red light burst into existence, and floated over his palms. With a note, Ba'sir changed the color to purple, then green. The mage smiled. "A simple pleasure with no complications," he murmured.

The wind rose. The sphere flickered. He saw an image cross its surface. "What in ten hells!" Ba'sir gasped. The vision deepened and held him. An unmatched battle raged on a forested mountain. The flickering light of a campfire illuminated the participants. The slender pantheress wore only an ak'ti. She slashed a mountain tiger with the dagger she grasped in her right hand. Her tail lashed in triumph as he fell, blood spurting from the fatal cut she had made in his neck, a spot unprotected by his leather armor.

Myr'an'dra became lightning, electric and swift in her actions. With the dagger she carried in her left hand, she parried the sword thrust of her other assailant, who ignored the death throes of his comrade. Although the pantheress possessed speed, the remaining mountain tiger had size, strength and a long sword. He snarled obscenities as he drew blood, his sword slicing the curve of her ribs. The jan'nirri fell.

Ba'sir roared, the enchantment of the sphere finally broken by the anguish created from what he had seen. The mage sang the one note that would effect a transformation in his form. His clothing fell away from the golden light that he became. When he reappeared, he took to the sky, his leathery wings lifting his scaled body with ease into the night.

*****

The mountains rose to the west. The mage depended on the keen eyesight of the Vertaxian form he had assumed to guide him to the site he had seen. Despite night and shadow, he spied the patch of light he had sought. He folded his wings. The wind roared past the small openings in his skull that served as ears. Before the ground came too close, Ba'sir extended his wings. The air resounded with the turbulence his landing created, any advantage of surprise lost.

The battle had already ended, but the outcome was different than he had anticipated. The second tiger lay still upon the ground with the first; Myr'an'dra huddled by the fire, oblivious to his dramatic entrance.

Despite his strange form, Ba'sir approached the wounded jan'nirri. Myr'an'dra sprang to her feet, a dagger still in each hand. Although her body swayed slightly, her fierce stance suggested that she would not die without a fight. The mage raised his hands defensively, and said, "It is I, Ba'sir. I do not challenge." His long Vertaxian snout with its rows of sharp teeth gave sibilance to his entreaty.

The pantheress knew of his shape-changing abilities, and believed his words. She dropped to her knees. Ba'sir ran toward her. "Halt," she growled. "Come no further!" Her body swayed. The bleeding wound under her left breast weakened her, and would eventually kill her.

"I possess healing powers." Ba'sir indicated the dead. "Your contract with the mountain tigers has ended, for they have betrayed you. You are unbound. As a jan'nirri who is also unbound, I offer you my help."

A grim smile crossed Myr'an'dra's pained features. "As a jan'nirri, you know what I must first do before I can rest and take healing."

The chill of the night deepened, and the movements of a river echoed in the distance. "You will never live to complete the ritual," Ba'sir replied, his voice breaking with fear. "You court the Silence."

"So be it. I will have lived and died by the Laws, and in the end, that will be enough."

"You would make me watch," Ba'sir croaked, fighting to keep his tears from silencing him.

"It will give me comfort," Myr'an'dra answered softly.

"Let it be then," the mage intoned, resigned to the fact that, as a jan'nirri, he had to share her suffering and her triumph.

The wounded pantheress advanced slowly toward the tiger she had slain first. With her daggers, she cut the lacings of his armor. She sundered it, along with the clothing lying beneath, exposing his bare chest. With several experienced cuts, she incised his abdomen and pulled back the flesh with her hands. Reaching into his body cavity, she grabbed his internal organs, and one by one, tore them free. The grim trophies she arranged in an arc around his body. In the end, she slid her arm under his ribs, and ripped out his heart. Her almond eyes narrowed in satisfaction as she ferociously bit into the organ, then ate a small piece. When she had finished eating, she laid the torn heart above the head of the warrior, then crawled over to other tiger.

Myr'an'dra hung her head in exhaustion. She will never complete this! Ba'sir thought in despair. Savar and Syrii give her the strength to do what she must. He clasped his hands together. And please help me to save her, for she has been true to the Law, and your devoted servant!

A growl of discontent emanated from the female. She returned to her work with fervor, but the effects of her wound retarded her actions. When she finally freed the tiger's heart, Ba'sir grew hopeful that he might be able to save her. To his astonishment, she raised her hands, and offered the organ to him. The gesture conveyed her complete trust in him, and named them as allies.

Ba'sir approached, and knelt beside her. He accepted the tiger heart, and bit into the tough flesh, Vertaxian teeth making mastication easy. Only a piece of ventricle remained for him to place above the dead leader's head.

Myr'an'dra smiled in satisfaction, then fell across his knees.

Ba'sir began to weave his spell of healing with song and movement, but feared that he was already too late to save her.

The pantheress grabbed his wrists, and stopped his incantation. "To the sky, Ba'sir, that I may go to the stars."

Her last wish had ruined his spell, and delivered her to her fate. The mage lifted the pantheress into his arms. A flash of his great wings propelled them skyward.

The jan'nirri lightly touched his scaled chest, her blood-stained hands cool with the invading silence. "All is well," she sighed, her life departing her body.

The night trembled with Ba'sir's sorrowful cry, his soul rent. Irrationally he desired but one thing: to follow Myr'an'dra, who had made the wound that he carried.

Whether he would have dove into the mountain or not, he would never learn. The currents of the air held him. Luminous clouds suddenly surrounded him. To his astonishment, they pushed him to the west. *Follow to the waters!* they commanded, filmy eyes stern.

Mysria'savi! Ba'sir thought, giving a name to the odd atmospheric disturbance. He knew that the creatures were what asira'savi, the omnipotent water-serpents, became in the last phase of their lives. "Lead me!" he shouted to the saving clouds.

The air beings roiled, and fled, a great ball of white that sailed over the mountain. Ba'sir beat his wings as swiftly as possible in pursuit. On the other side of the peak, the sea spread before him. Radiance beneath the waves beckoned. The mage spiraled down.

Ba'sir held his breath as the icy water washed over him. Light and heat quickly replaced the chill and the dark, for the asira'savi gathered around him. A serpent took him in its coils, and he did not resist. Power filled and pleasured him. The mage began to breathe, a gift of asira'savi magic. He let Myr'an'dra float free from his arms, and gave her to the serpents.

Five of the beings surrounded the dead warrior, obscuring her from view. *This is not your place,* the serpent that held him declared. Ba'sir disagreed, but remained mute in thought, aware that he could never best the creature's magic. The knot of creatures diminished in the distance as his captor conveyed him toward the shore.

When the depth of the water became low, the asira'savi released him. It fanned the feathery gills that sprouted from its triangular head once in salute before speeding back to the ocean. Ba'sir surfaced, and walked to the shore. Sheer cliffs encircled the inlet. Only a creature that could fly over the mountains could reach this sandy beach, he thought, weariness increasing its weight.

Rain finally fell. The chilling droplets slid off the mage's glistening scales. Ba'sir sat upon rock. He took deep breaths. His eyes fixed upon the sea until time ceased in the cocoon of his trance.

Illumination ended his dormancy. The night had cleared. He and the stars observed the rays of light that danced on the sand. The brilliant colors wove a shape. Upon its completion, the lights dissipated. "Myr'an'dra," he whispered, pleased that the asira'savi had returned her to him.

He moved to her side, and knelt. The mage gingerly touched her face. Warmth and life stirred beneath his fingertips. "Thank you," he murmured to the sea.

A glittering serpent lifted its head above the waves, and ordered, *Take rest and refuge.*

A low hum sounded behind the mage. A cottage appeared on the beach, a rosy glow from within offering a cozy retreat from the darkness and the cold.

The mage lifted the pantheress into his arms once more. "Let us heed their advice," he said softly to the sleeping warrior.