Rise of Blaze

OATTY'S DEATH - RISE OF BLAZE

Heleen always said I had a way with animals and my love for them would probably cause me great pain. I think I value what she was referring to now as a tear trickles down my face. I swipe at it impatiently. ‘Some big-shot mercenary I am, ‘eh?’ I mutter to myself, jerking my shoulders angrily; gritting my teeth. I snuffle, clearing my nose, and throat; stiffening my spine as we hustle back to the ruins of the monastery.

I glance at my compatriots, Kiril, Penladan and Valeros; I haven’t known them for long; the bonds of camaraderie are forming – I can trust them with my life, and yet – I don’t feel this is something I can share with them. I swallow, the lump in my throat growing.

‘Damn it! I should have listened. We were going guerrilla; what part of that includes a donkey?’ “Thunder Sticks!” I swear, kicking a stone, glancing, embarrassed, at Valeros, as the rock skips too close to his foot.

My own feet feel like lead as they carry me across the cooling sands, the heat dissipating as night creeps closer. ‘Oatty is gone and it is my own stupid fault!’ my mind shouts at me.

“Oh please, Nethys, guide him safely,” I utter a prayer to the only gawd I know.

The fires burning in the Monastery bring me no welcome this evening. I head straight for the tiny corner I claimed as mine and Oatty’s. I let the next few tears run their course down my dirty cheeks and drip off my chin before I wipe my face again.

My stomach growling, I chew a biscuit I take from my sack, uninterested in a meal from the cook’s limited resources. All three of my companions try, at separate times, to comfort me; they mean well, I hope my silence didn’t offend them...

I had only bestowed Oatty’s name upon him at the start of this post! I wipe the tears I let dribble. I’d found him wandering, half-starved, as I made my way through the great city, seeking information about Heleen. I couldn’t believe someone lost a donkey!

He followed me, and we came to an agreement. He’d carry stuff, if I, in turn, fed him. It was a win-win situation. He came in useful several nights, earning bonuses, by waking me first, then rearing up and kicking ruffians into the lake; over a fence; and into the pig-sty with a huge splash. I smiled at these memories. Then frowned. I have no right to smile, Oatty will kick no longer.

Night opens the velvety sky above the conservatory to a thousand thousand thousand twinkling dots, each a soul stored until it is released – that is what Heleen used to tell us when we first left the big town and she took us to her home. “Good souls become stars to guide other good souls.” She was a good soul. “IS! Is a good soul!” I firmly utter. “I will find you Heleen,” I promise the breeze that dances through. I stare into the darkness, the fires dying down.

Sleep takes its time; the heat doesn’t bother me; the guilt that my stupidity caused Oatty to be vanquished keeps gnawing away at me. I descend into a disturbed sleep, only to awake in the predawn purple-grey; the desert is prettiest at this time.

Not wishing to disturb anyone, I make my way silently out the entrance, nodding stiffly at the few guards tiredly keeping watch. I stroll the pathway around the crumbling exterior walls the same as the day before, needing to clear my mind.

I pause and watch the sun’s first rays touch the tips of the green leafed palms and, continue admiring the treat of still-blooming Stone (or Pebble) flowers lifting their dreary edge of the endless waves of gritty, crushed-rock, known as sand, into a lovely oasis.

I sit down on the same flat-stone as yesterday and my mind weeps. I search through my memories, the pleasant ones with Oatty. “I only knew you such a short time, my friend.”

A vision of a bird floats in my thoughts and persists. I am intrigued because I’ve naught befriended a winged-creature before.

Using the recollection I have from my time with the instructor, I rise, remove my armour, skirt and blouse, still believing this area to be free of onlookers, return to sit cross-legged on the stone, my hands resting on my knees, my back straight. I concentrate on that vision; that bird as it soars in my mind, playfully rising high on gusts of wind, before swooping down fiercely; his eyes sharp and feathers brindled – shades of gold, nearly invisible against the yellow sun.

I smile as he gives chase, catching his prey, a small mouse that he devours in a bite. I watch as he dives to a rock with water in its centre, and watch as he plays, cleansing his feathers before drinking. Done he flies off again, his happy screech piercing the air.

I watch as he lands and calls, the sound so near and shrill my eyes fly open. There, on the ground before me, the large hawk perched, his head tilting as I stare, unafraid, into his golden eyes.

“Have you come to keep me company?” He stretches and screeches, hopping about. I laugh. “You are very beautiful. I’d love to have the gift of your company; I can teach you many things, if you’ll let me.” I carefully reach into my rucksack drawing out a chunk of pemmican holding it out to the wild creature. Wondering what he will teach me.

To my astonishment, he struts forward, plucks the offering gently and shreds it before he devours it. He picks up a small piece in his beak and hops forward dropping the morsel on the rock in front of me as the sunbeams suddenly splash the rock in their golden blush. I smile, reach forward and take the tiny slice between my fingers.

I bring it to my lips and eat it. “Thank you,” I murmur, tipping my head to the side, staring into his luminous almond-eyes.

 

“Oatty?” I questioned, earning a dead-pan look.

“Uhm, ok, not Oatty. Good. I think. Do you have a name?” I grin. I swear the bird is looking at me as if trying to decide why it has chosen to come to me at all. He hops closer, his wings expanding and contracting, the sunlight casting a sudden flame around him.

“Okay, how about I call you Blaze?”

He jumps up and down, nodding his feathered head. I laugh out loud. “Okay, Blaze it is. Now, how about you head over to that town and tell me what you see? No, before you get another treat. I just want to know what makes the loud rumbles and scares the bejimminies out of us. Will you do that for me?” I sense a joyful image and the bird’s wings open wide as he soars into the air, spiralling higher and higher until he disappeared into the light.

“And be careful!” I shout, standing, my hand shielding my eyes as I see him soar in the direction of the town. “This could be nice,” I nod, pulling my skirt and blouse back on and continuing my walk, cautiously making my way back to the front of the monastery, avoiding the new piles of crap stinking up the area. “Who is this rude person?”

Facing toward the rising orb of fire, collecting my thoughts and calming my mind further, feeling peaceful sensations of joy, a motion through the trees catches my attention. I glide cautiously toward it, pausing behind a low crumbling-stone wall as I glimpse Kiril elegantly performing his morning ritual.

I am not sure if he would appreciate me watching, but I find I cannot turn away from his fluid motion, his taut, rippling muscles and controlled actions. Perspiration trickling across his tanned physique, his blades slash the morning air.

I hold my breath as a beautiful, haunting melody drifts on the breeze in a language I don’t understand. It takes me a moment to comprehend Kiril is singing, the sound soft, like a melodic whisper.

Not wanting to intrude, still unable to budge, I gaze, mesmerised until he reaches for a scrap of cloth, his dance complete – I slip away, back through the courtyard, hopefully unnoticed...

I return to my bed roll and curl up, sighing deeply; happy, cheerful images flickering to me, as I concentrate, learning how to appreciate what Blaze is up to... still preoccupied as the memory of Kiril’s melody lulls me to an easy rest...

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