Dawnmaid

Chapter two-3

“At first he thought it just the sound of the east wind, but when he questioned her, she replied, ‘Nay, my song doesn’t pierce the soul, Ben’aryn. Beware.’

“He drew closer to the creature, and the music grew louder, and he asked the west wind if she sang the song. The west wind shook her head, saying, ‘My song will never make your heart bleed, Ben’aryn. Beware.’

“Now he drew within striking distance and beheld the creature closely.”

Huw paused and retrieved the water bottle from one of the bags slung across Ajax’s saddle. He drank deeply, wiped the mouth and passed the bottle to Katkin, who took a sip, and demanded, “Go on with the story. What happened next?”

The clouds broke up and watery sunshine filtered through to warm the late afternoon air as they began to walk again. On the path leading to the pass, Huw said, “What Ben’aryn saw surprised him so much he folded his wings and had to shear off from his attack. He came to rest on the ground not far away. This creature was like none he had ever seen before. She might have been a doe, for her skin was as sleek and delicate, but she had no fur except for a long reddish pelt growing from her head. Even more strange, she walked on two legs, instead of four, and as she walked she sang the beautiful song which had drifted up amongst the winds. She stopped singing when she saw him land beside the path, and looked a little fearful, for Ben’aryn was the mightiest of birds, and even on the ground he was an imposing figure. But the girl-child did not run away.

“Ben’aryn looked at her for a long time before he spoke. Her face was the only thing he had ever seen that made him feel as though he might want to stay close to the Yrth for a time. He asked her, ‘What are you?’

“‘I am lost and hungry,’ she replied, for she was a young child, and did not truly understand the speech of birds. Then her eyes, the color of Lake Lisane on a sunny day, filled with tears, and she wept, with her hands over her face.

“Ben’aryn, who had been hungry himself until he heard her singing, now said, ‘Wait here, and I will bring you something to eat.’ He flew off, shrieking, and soon found a fat, fleecy sheep. For the most part, he left sheep alone, for they were slow, stupid animals, and beneath his dignity. But now he was in a hurry. He caught a young one easily and flew back with it in his talons, then dropped it at the girl’s feet. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Eat.’

“To his dismay, she began to cry all the harder saying, ‘How can I eat a whole sheep? I cannot cut it without a knife.’ Then he looked at her hands and saw she had no talons or even claws, just useless flat nails. So he attacked the carcass with his strong beak, and soon shredded enough flesh to make a fine meal for her. But her tears did not stop flowing.

“‘Now what is wrong?’ he asked her, impatiently.

“She stared at the bloody hunks of flesh on the ground before her and turned away in disgust. ‘It must be cooked, with fire. I won’t eat it raw, I would rather starve!’ Ben’aryn looked at her in confusion.

“‘Fire is the red flower that eats the trees after a lightning storm?’

“The girl nodded and said plaintively, ‘Please fetch me some. I am so cold and hungry.’

“‘Will you sing for me again if I do?’

“She nodded happily, and Ben’aryn said, ‘Gather some sticks and dry wood. I will return as soon as I may.’ Then he took off again, with a great rush of wings, and flew away. He journeyed far, and at great speed, but not for the joy of it. For he knew a smoking mountain lay to the west, and when he reached it, he grasped a fallen tree in his talons and swept right down into the crater at the top. The heat and the fumes almost overcame him, but he was able to dip the top in the liquid fire that seeped from the mountain. It burst into flame, and he carried it back to the girl. When she sang her song for him again it filled his heart with joy.”

The path they traveled began climbing in earnest, as the sun sank below the level of the high hills. A cold blue shadow covered the forest but the saddle above was still bathed in golden light from the setting sun. Huw stopped his tale for a few minutes, needing his breath for the climb. Finally, they reached a level place, where the track turned before beginning another ascent. An icy rill pooled across it, before gathering speed and splashing down a stony gully. Someone had constructed a wooden bench just to the side.

“Our people,” said Huw in answer to Katkin’s question, and agreed they might rest for fifteen minutes.

Katkin sank down on to the seat gratefully, as Huw rummaged in his pack for a parchment twist of dried apples and cob nuts. As they sat together, sharing the food equably, she asked, “Did Ben’aryn and the girl become friends?”

“We are almost at the top now. You don’t need to hear the rest, do you?” He smiled at her fondly as she growled back in mock anger. “Very well, I shall finish the story. Though I should warn you now, like many tales of our people, the ending is not altogether a happy one.” He sighed, and watched the westering sun sink a little lower. Ajax strayed free, cropping the short green turf.

“The girl, whose name was Elleranne, stayed long in the forest of Vangesu, and Ben’aryn helped her build a hut. He would have preferred for her to live in his eyrie, but she could not fly, so he abandoned his high lonely place on the cliff, and settled close to her, roosting in a tree like a common fowl. No more did he care for the soaring freedom of flight. Now he protected the girl from danger, and caught her things to eat when she hungered. In return she sang for him, and sometimes stroked the soft feathers between his mighty wings, and these things gave him more joy than flying. Springs and summers passed, and the girl grew into a young woman. Ben’aryn thought her very beautiful. Now, when she touched his downy feathers, it woke in him a different sort of need, like nothing he had ever experienced, and he tried with his wing tips to touch her in return. But always she sighed, and turned away. One summer day, when he came home from hunting, he found her weeping and it troubled him greatly.

“For many nights, Ben’aryn sat in his tree, wide awake in the darkness. He tasted fear for the first time — fear she would leave him and seek her own kind — and it was as bitter as ashes on his tongue. So he rose up silently, and flew deep into the mountains, to the cave of a sorcerer, named Nys. Ben’aryn said, ‘I wish to become human. What must I do?’

“The sorcerer, a thoroughly evil man, said, ‘Give me your soul and I will grant your wish, but I must warn you, it will be very painful.’ Ben’aryn, because of his love and need for the girl, agreed. The sorcerer tied Ben’aryn down to the ground and began plucking out his beautiful silver feathers one by one. It was agonizing, but Ben’aryn did not cry out. Then the evil sorcerer took boiling wax and poured it all over the bird’s raw, naked flesh. Ben’aryn screamed and screamed as the wicked fingers of Nys molded and shaped his form into a twisted parody of a human body.

“When the wax cooled and cracked open, Ben’aryn stepped forth, and caught sight of himself in the looking glass hanging on the cave wall. He shrank back in horror at the hideous hunchbacked creature staring back at him from the mirror. ‘I am ugly!’ he cried to the sorcerer. ‘She will not love me like this.’ He shuddered and began to weep, for his body was wracked with pain.

“Nys rubbed his hands together wickedly, saying, ‘I never promised you would be handsome, Ben’aryn. Only human. But in return for half your remaining life, I will cast a spell to make you look pleasing to her eye.’ Ben’aryn once again agreed.

“Ben’aryn had to walk back to the girl’s hut, and it was a long and painful journey, for although on the outside he looked fair and broad-shouldered, inside he was still a crippled hunchback. When the girl saw him, of course she did not know it was her protector Ben’aryn. But the stranger’s handsome face and kind eyes soon won her heart.”

Katkin said, very quietly, “Ben’aryn should have stayed as he was. She would have loved him that way too. It wouldn’t have made any difference to her, whether he was handsome or not, only that he was kind.”

Huw looked at her, a bit startled by her words, then stood and stretched. “Are you ready for the final climb? Once we cross the saddle there is a snug and dry cave on the far side, where we may shelter this night. Tomorrow we will reach Brunner’s valley.” He bent and refilled the water bottle from the stream, then returned it to the saddlebag.

They started climbing again, and Huw led Ajax by her halter up the hillside. The sky above them shaded to pink, orange and deepest fiery reds. The stars shone forth, like ice-pale jewels on a mantle of blue velvet, as Huw finished his tale. “Ben’aryn and Elleranne left the forest of Vangesu together, and settled by the shores of Lake Lisane. Sometimes Ben’aryn gazed over the waters and thought on how he used to soar above them, and he felt sadness. But then Elleranne would come and kiss him tenderly, and Ben’aryn rejoiced again for he knew the things he had given up were insignificant next to her love. And yet, as he aged, the pain he carried inside him troubled him more and more, until he grew short-tempered and jealous of his wife’s beauty and happiness. He did not want to feel this way, but he could not help himself. On the day the sorcerer came to him and said his agreement must now be fulfilled, Ben’aryn felt relieved, knowing his anguish would at last come to an end. He wanted only to see Elleranne once more, so he could tell her he loved her.”

Walking well behind him, Katkin covered her mouth with her hand. Huw did not see her.

“He begged the sorcerer to break the spell, so his beloved could finally see him as he truly was. Perhaps he just wanted to prove to himself that she could have loved him, even if he had not been fair. Nys cruelly refused and laughed at his fancy. When Elleranne came home at last, Ben’aryn lay dying and could only tell her the truth — that he loved flying, but he loved her more. Always he loved her more.”

Huw reached the top of the saddle and began to descend. It might have been five minutes before he thought to look back at Katkin, to see why she had not spoken. Later, he told himself it must have been utter exhaustion that made her weep so very bitterly at the end of his tale of Ben’aryn and Elleranne.