Wyvern Tails and Phoenix Feathers

The Deep Dark, Chapter 6 - Horus

Horus never accounted for the possibility that Oran Highwater could best him in magical combat. To that point, he never imagined having to face his rival in a duel at all. But in the contest judged by Miranna Greenmarsh to determine Iron Fen's new Archmage, Horus was definitively the loser.

He spent the following days drifting around the periphery of the Hearh Tree. He avoided any lengthy interactions with Oran and Miranna. He responded to their attempts at conversations with as few words as possible. He found privacy beside a narrow creek where Miranna's endemic snakes were less abundant. He threw rocks and hummed to himself.

It was painfully boring in the woods. And yet boredom was a welcome escape from his cyclical anger and self-loathing. At the crux of his thoughts were the words Oran said to him during their battle.

"You don't get to have things just because you want them," Oran cried. "Not this, not the Archmage, and not me!"

But why not? Horus wondered. He had lain with both The Archmage and Oran. Both had freely given him affection. Was he not deserving of any lasting love? Why did he always push away his heart's desires? Were his feelings for Oran genuine, or was he merely a conquest?

"You love him," answered a voice.

In the light of the afternoon, Miranna managed to catch him off guard. She wore a long green dress, the costume of a sweet and nurturing spirit of the forest. Horus knew the truth though. She was a serpent who spoke out of both sides of her mouth.

"I'd like to be alone," he hissed at her.

Miranna crouched like a mother placating her child.

"I don't believe you," she said softly. "I think you enjoy company."

"Not yours, anyway," Horus was quick to reply.

Miranna frowned and cocked her head. Horus knew that look. It was another person pretending to care about him; another liar pretending to understand.

"No," She said, nodding. "You don't care for my kind."

"Snake-covered hags?"

Miranna laughed. He hated that she laughed. He would have preferred her scorn.

"Women," she clarified. "You see us as foreign creatures with nothing to offer. One would think you'd find us benign, yet you feel spite. It's curious."

"I don't hate women," said Horus. "I've just never met one I like."

Miranna shrugged.

"Do you think I'd be living by myself in a tree if I enjoyed the company of men?" she asked. "I find most of you exhausting. I also believe there's far too much ado regarding gender. Many people are awful and, thankfully, many are lovely. Further still exist outside your strict definition of what a man or a woman should be. I think someday you'll find a woman whose company you cherish. Maybe you'll even love her."

Horus rolled his eyes at the time. Her attempt at wisdom was misplaced. But years later, sitting in his room in The House of Broken Chains, Horus realized the snake-covered hag's foresight was almost accurate. There wasn't any woman in his heart, but there were two girls. He watched Talla put Crowe to bed, singing a song she'd sung many times before.

"The blackbird sat on the windowsill," she sang sweetly, "Mother's baking bread. Her daughter's in the meadow. She fell and bumped her head. Don't cry, my baby. The sun, it shines for you. Be well, little lady. May all your dreams come true."

"I like the part where she bumps her head," said Crowe.

"I know you do," said Talla.

She kissed her sister on her forehead and half-smiled at Horus. She still carried the burden of fear that something terrible was going to happen to her and Crowe at Renard's banquet. But the vision of the marketplace scryer was alive in Horus's head. He knew he would save them, he just didn't know how.