Tales of Wind and Fire: Giver

Chapter 32

Bennu dodged, and the axe hissed past his ear, splintering the ice where he'd been standing. Hord wrenched it free. "Give me the World-Souls!" He cried. "I have to take it to the Mountain!"
"Get away from me!" Said Bennu.
From the edge of the ravine came a grinding of ice. The Phoenix was nearing the top.
Hord's haggard face twisted in pain. Bennu could barely imagine how he'd brought himself to track them through the demon-haunted Forest; to brave the wrath of the Guardian by venturing up the trail. "Give me the World-Souls!" Repeated Hord.
Mystigan advanced on him, his whole body a shuddering snarl. He was no longer a cub; he was a ferocious young Kitsune defending his pack brother.
Hord ignored him. "I will have it! It's my fault this is happening! I have to make it end!"
Suddenly, Bennu understood. "It was you," he said. "You were there when the Phoenix was made. You were with The Owl-Guild. You helped the Scarred-Wanderer trap the demon."
"I didn't know!" Protested Hord. "He said he needed a Phoenix—I caught a young one. I never knew what he meant to do!"
Then several things happened at once. Hord swung his axe at Bennu's throat. Bennu ducked. Mystigan sprang at Hord, sinking his teeth into his wrist. Hord bellowed and dropped his axe, but with his free hand rained blows on Mystigan's unprotected head.
"No!" Yelled Bennu, drawing his katana and launching himself at Hord. Hord seized Mystigan by the scruff and threw him against the basalt, then twisted round and lunged for the World-Souls swinging from Bennu's neck.
Bennu jerked out of reach. Hord went for his legs, throwing him backwards onto the ice. But as Bennu went down, he tore the pouch from his neck and hurled it up the trail, out of Hord's reach. Mystigan rightened himself with a shake and leapt for the pouch, catching it mid-air, but landing perilously close to the edge of the ravine.
"Mystigan!" Cried Bennu, struggling beneath Hord, who was straddling his chest, and kneeling on his arms.
Mystigan's hind paws scrabbled wildly at the edge. From just below him came a menacing cry— then the Phoenix's black talon sliced the air, narrowly missing Mystigan's paws. . .
Mystigan gave a tremendous heave and regained the trail. But then, for the first time ever, he decided to return something Bennu had thrown, and bounded towards him with the World-Souls in his jaws.
Hord strained to reach the pouch. Bennu wrested one hand free and dragged his arm away. If only his katana-arm wasn't pinned under Hord's knee. . .
An unearthly cry shook the ravine. In horror, Bennu watched the Phoenix rise above the edge of the trail.
And in that final moment, as the Phoenix towered above them, as Mystigan paused with the World-Souls in his jaws— in that final moment as Bennu struggled with Hord, the true meaning of the Prophecy broke upon him. "The giver sacrifices his heart's blood to the Mountain."
His heart's blood.
Mystigan.
No! He cried in his head.
But he knew what he had to do. Out loud he shouted to Mystigan, "Take it to the Mountain! Uff! Uff! Uff!"
Mystigan's sapphire gaze met his.
"Uff!" gasped Bennu. His eyes stung.
Mystigan turned and raced up the trail towards the Mountain.
Hord snarled with fury and staggered after him— but he slipped and toppled backwards, screaming, into the talons of the Phoenix.
Bennu scrambled to his feet. Hord was still screaming. Bennu had to help him. . .
From high above came a deafening crack.
The trail shook. Bennu was thrown to his knees.
The crack swelled to a grinding roar. He threw himself beneath the overhang—and an instant later, down came the rushing, rampaging, killing snow, obliterating Hord, obliterating the Phoenix—sending them howling down into death.
The Guardian had heard Bennu's plea.
The last thing Bennu saw was Mystigan, the World-Souls still in his jaws, racing under the thundering snow towards the Mountain. "Mystigan!" He shouted. Then the whole world turned white.

Bennu never knew how long he crouched against the rockface, with his eyes tightly shut.
At last he became aware that the thundering had turned to echoes— and that the echoes were getting fainter. The Guardian was striding away into the Mountains.
The sound of its footsteps faded to a hist of settling snow. . .
Then a whisper. . .
Then—silence.
Bennu opened his eyes.
He could see across the ravine. He was not buried alive. The Guardian had passed over the overhang, and let him live. But where was Mystigan?
He got to his feet and stumbled to the edge of the trail.
The dead cold had gone. He saw the Mountain through a haze of settling snow. Below him, the ravine had disappeared under a chaos of ice and rock. Buried beneath it lay Hord and the Phoenix.
Hord had paid with his life. The Phoenix was an empty husk, for the Guardian had banished the demon to the Otherworld.
Perhaps the Phoenix's own soul would now be at peace, after its long imprisonment with the demon.
Bennu had fulfilled his oath to Ma. He had given the World-Souls to the Guardian—and the Guardian destroyed the Phoenix.
He knew that, but he couldn't feel it. All he could feel was the ache in his chest. Where was Mystigan? Had he reached the Mountain before the snow came down? Or did he too lie buried under the ice?
"Please be alive," murmured Bennu. "Please. I'll never ask anything again."
A breeze lifted his hair, but brought no answer.
A young crow flew over the Mountains, cawing and sky-dancing with the joy of flight. From the east came a thunder of hooves. Bennu knew what that meant. It meant that the reindeer were coming down from the fells. The Forest was returning to life.
Turning, he saw that the way to the south remained open; he would be able to find his way back to Cybil and Kai and the FlashFire-guild.
Then from the north— beyond the torrent of ice that blocked the trail, behind the clouds that hid the Mountain of the World Spirit—a fox howled.
It was not the high, wobbly yowl of a cub, but the pure, heart-wrenching song of a young Kitsune. And yet it was still unmistakably Mystigan.
The pain in Bennu's chest broke loose and lifted free. As he listened to the music of Mystigan's song, more Kitsune-voices joined it: weaving in and out, but never drowning that one clear, well-loved voice. Mystigan was not alone.
Bennu's eyes blurred with tears. He understood. Mystigan was howling a farewell.
He wasn't coming back.
The howling ceased. Bennu bowed his head. "But he's alive," he said out loud. "That's what matters. He is alive." He longed to howl a reply: to tell Mystigan that it was not forever; that one day, he would find some way for them to be together. But he couldn't think of how to say it, because in spirit-tongue there is no future.
Instead, he said it in his own speech. He knew that Mystigan wouldn't understand, but he also knew that he was making the promise to himself as much as to Mystigan.
"Some day," he called, and his voice rang through the radiant air, "some day we will be together. We will hunt together in the Forest. Together—" his voice broke. "I promise. My brother, the Kitsune."
No answer came back. But Bennu had not expected one.
He had made his promise.
He stooped a handful of snow to cool his burning face. It felt good. He scooped up some more, and rubbed the Death Marks from his forehead.
Then he turned and started back towards the Forest.

The End.