Clipped Wings by Meredith Burton

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Now discover a search for fulfillment and love in this beautiful tale told by the handmaid of the Queen of Etalpalli herself inspired by events in Dragonwitch...

CLIPPED WINGS

 by Meredith Burton

                “Tell me of his doings.” The command emerged in an eager trill, childlike yet simultaneously tense.  “I must know.”

                Intashna balanced upon a gilded perch within the glittering tower.  Her wings quivered in their perpetual motion.  Her hands gently caressed her queen’s resplendent hair as she ran a comb through the cascading tresses.  Around them throbbed a chorus more beautiful than the liquid tones of rivers, more deep than rich earth and more lofty than their own positions.  The music of the Sphere Songs.  “Glory! Glory! Glory and praise to the Namer of all things.  Worthy! Worthy! Worthy is the Song Giver and King!”

                As the continuous chorus flowed around them, Intashna smiled in rapture.  She delighted in her service, and she eagerly relayed the message her queen longed to hear.  “He is coming, Your Majesty.  I heard him myself.  He will arrive very soon.”

                Light, magnificent in brilliance, shone from the queen’s eyes.  She laughed in delight, twirling round and round upon her vaulted perch.  Her hair glinted as she danced, and her movements combined with the melody that flowed around them.  “Thank you, Intashna.  Thank you.” The Faerie Queen suddenly ceased her joyful dance.  Leaning forward, she murmured earnestly, “Do you think he will ever choose to stay?”

                Intashna shrugged, her eyes betraying nothing.  Within the recesses of her heart, however, was a deep-rooted fear.  She had heard the whispered talk many times, of course.  Yet, that was nothing to what she had witnessed with her own eyes.  Two people embracing, one who reeked of mortality and one who did not.  Yet, she could not bear to relate this news to her queen, to the one who had already endured more pain than was right, the one who had gone in search of a deliverer, who had brought beauty backe to their ravished land.  “I do not know.  But, he is devoted to his Lord, and—“

                “Yes, of course.” The queen’s voice was soft, filled with reverence and tenderness.  “He is steadfast, Intashna.  Yet, I wonder if he realizes that he himself is a lord.  Do you think his devotion is misplaced? Look at what he did for us! I-I think he underestimates his own brilliance.”

                Intashna blinked in surprise.  “But, my—“

                The queen laughed gently, caressing Intashna’s wings and leaning forward with shining eyes.  “Ytotia.  I’ve always told you to call me by that name.  And, I know what you are going to say.  There were two saviors of our land.  You are right.  Go now, Intashna.”

                The lady-in-waiting withdrew from her queen’s chambers, her heart pounding.  A deep flush stained her cheeks, and her mind reeled with memories.  Etanun, Knight of the Farthest Shore, would arrive soon.  He would spend time with Etalpalli’s queen.  Yet, the other deliverer never came.  And, Intashna never understood why.

                The Parasite sucked the very essence from our new king.  I do not know how long Ytotia was away, for Time is of no consequence in Etalpalli.  Yet, during her absence, the king grew progressively worse.  He was a strong ruler despite his malady, and we all revered him.

                My brother was one of the Parasite’s first victims, one of the firstborn who was taken.  I often wonder why our king and queen were so strong while others submitted to Cren Cru’s demands.  I have no answer for this question.  Just the sight of that Mound was enough to drain away resolve, and I cannot judge my people harshly.

                I remember the day our saviors came to us.  Ytotia led two strange men into our midst.  One held a glittering sword and the other a delicate lantern.  The lantern itself was unimpressive, but the light that poured from it was beyond anything I had ever seen.  The unimpressive-looking man who bore it approached the Mound as the other battled and overcame the Twelve followers within Cren Cru’s dark circle.  The contrast was quite startling.  One man used strength to face our foes while the other used truth, a potent light that cut more sharply than any blade.  However, I also saw that these men worked together, that their tasks could not be accomplished without each other.  If something occurred to divide them, trouble would inevitably follow.

I caught a brief glimpse of Youtotia, who stood silhouetted within the sun tower, her eyes ablaze with wonder as she beheld the sword bearer’s work.  Her cheeks flushed with gratitude and awe.

I then saw the lantern bearer as he shone the brilliant light within the Mound.  I saw the Parasite flee in terror.  I saw what my queen could not.  And, I loved Akilun the Lantern Bearer.  Yet, I read in his face that he loved Another, that his devotion to that Other was unwavering and true.  He and his brother departed, but not before Etanun made a promise to return.  My queen is not unwilling to make her requests known.  So, she spoke and I did not.  Yet, I never stopped hoping that Akilun might one day come back.

“You are hurting her.  Why do you not stay away?”

Intashna stood before the sword bearer, her eyes flashing and her wings quivering.  She had intercepted him as he prepared to enter Etalpalli’s gates.

Etanun stared at the slight figure, his features crinkling into a gentle smile.  “What do you mean, my lady?” His golden voice was so very kind.

Intashna blinked.  “I mean what I say.  She pines for you, yet you love another.  It is cruel of you to give her false hope.“

Etanun blinked, his eyes widening.  “But, I only come to make sure all is well.  I—Wait.  How did you—“

“You have been away for so long.  She was concerned for you.  Don’t mock her, sir.  You must stay away.  Do you have any idea how much we longed for a savior? How much we—“

“Stop!” Etanun’s voice was harsh, and his face had grown ashen.  “A savior? Akilun and I are not—“ His voice trailed away, and he turned from Intashna’s earnest gaze.  “I will see her once more, just to assure myself that she is well.” He smiled at Intashna and entered Etalpalli’s gates.  “Do not worry.”

Intashna glared after him, her eyes filling with tears.  “You fool,” she murmured.

“No, my dear.  Perhaps you are the one who is a fool.” The voice resembled nothing more than fire, a hot, sulfurous furnace of unquenchable heat.  Intashna felt her heart melt within her chest, and she turned from the gates.  A scream lodged in her throat as she beheld the creature who towered above her.  Large, leathery wings and a massive head filled her vision.  Dragon, her mind immediately cried.

The monster chuckled deep within his throat, his liquid tones rolling over her.  “What’s troubling you, little one? Afraid that I am hear to harm your land? Oh, quite the contrary.  I am here to protect it.”

Intashna blinked and stepped backward, whimpers of terror escaping from her throat.  “G-Go away! Even now, someone is within our land who can fight you!” She was shocked at her daring.

“G-Go away,” he mimicked, his voice so like her own that Intashna cowered in fear.  “Can you even conceive of the terrors that exist in this land? Have you an inkling of the dangers that lurk upon your borders? I shall go, but know that no one can fight me and win.  I am invincible! That puny knight is nothing without his brother.” The Dragon laughed and prepared to take his leave.  Then, a strange look filled his roiling eyes, and he smiled.  “Perhaps you are not as foolish as you appear.  Go to your mistress, young one.  She might have need of you.”

Shaking, Intashna turned to enter the gates.

“Weakling?”

Intashna stopped, her throat constricting.

“Do not trifle with me.” Menace laced the voice as the vile creature took to the air.  Intashna knew that nothing would ever be the same.  As she stepped through Etalpalli’s gates, a reverberating cry of agony filled her ears, the cry of rejection and disintegrating dreams.

“Why? Why? Tell me why!” Ytotia’s voice crescendoed with each word until she was screaming.

Intashna cowered before her queen.  Others had fled in terror at the queen’s wrath, but Intashna had not.  She was Ytotia’s first appointed lady-in-waiting, after all.  She would stay by her queen’s side.  “I-I do not—“

“You lie to me! You knew all along.  Why did you not tell me? Who is she? I know you must know her name.”

“I do not, Yto—“

Iron fingers gripped Intashna’s wings, twisting, twisting.  Pain, more excruciating than anything ever experienced, thrust itself again and again into her heart.  A horrendous tearing sound reverberated in the stillness.  Intashna screamed and screamed, crumpling to her knees in a welter of terror.  “P-Please, my queen.  Have mercy upon me.  I-I do not know her name.  I-I did not desire to cause you more pain.” The lady-in-waiting began to sob, the pain within her heart more excruciating than the decimation of her wings.

Youtotia drew back as if stung, a deep keening cry tearing from her throat.  “I-I am sor—“ Her voice trailed away.  Then, her face grew as hard as stone, and when next she spoke, all beauty had vanished.  Her voice was dead, a husk of sound devoid of inflection.  “You will address me as my queen or Your Majesty.  I will no longer bear the sound of my name.” With these final words, Etalpalli’s queen took flight, leaving Intashna broken and bloodstained upon the stony ground of the lofty tower.

You bleed, gentle Faery.  Let me help you.

A soft voice filled Intashna’s befuddled brain.  A tingling sensation of warmth touched her back, and the voice murmured soothingly, You will not be able to fly.  I cannot give you back that ability.  Yet, someone else can.

The voice was so strong yet so gentle.  In fact, if Intashna had never heard it before, she would have thought that several voices spoke at once.  Yet, she knew who was speaking to her.  “C-Ce Imral,” she breathed.

Yes.  Can you stand now?

Intashna struggled to sit up, but her limbs were so very weak.  She felt herself being lifted, and she found herself astride a glossy, dappled back.

Do you wish to go to the One who can mend your wings? Do you want me to carry you?

After a moment, Intashna nodded, for she was too overwhelmed to speak.

The blue star glides across the vast expanse of the firmament, his movements graceful and smooth.  I cling to his back, my ebony hair fluttering behind me.  Other stars surround us.  They cavort and sing, the rich reverberations of perpetual worship filling every fiber of my being.  I know that I am being taken to the Song Giver, and I tremble with fear and anticipation.

Suddenly, a flaming creature tears through the sky below me, leathery wings cutting and defiling.  The stars falter for a moment, then their dance and song continues.  Ce Imral quivers beneath me.  That was not the Dark One, the Death-In-Life.  It is another.

As Ce Imral speaks, a dark shadow materializes before me, a shadow that pulsates with crazed, triumphant laughter.  “Marvelous observation, Celestial One.  She is my first-born, the one who will make this world my own! The one who will unite with me in a conquest that will be unrivaled!”

Ce Imral jerks backward in fright, but he still manages to stand firm.  A resounding song fills my ears, one that Ce Imral sings alone at first.  Then, the other stars join in, “Glory! Glory! Glory and praise to the Namer of all things! Worthy! Worthy! Worthy is the Song Giver and King!”

The Dragon, (for that is who the shadow was), shrinks back, his eyes blazing in terror.  As the Dragon takes flight, he bestows a final look upon the glossy creature whom I ride, a look of pure hatred.  Within that look, I read a vow, a vow for vengeance.

Intashna rode upon the blue star’s back until she was deposited upon a grassy bank.  Before her was a glittering wall of trees.  This is where I must leave you, Faery.  Wait, and he will come.

Intashna blinked, for the blue star immediately vanished.  She turned toward the sound of rushing water, realizing that she stood upon the bank of a river.  She bent down and glimpsed her reflection in the water’s depths.

Intashna saw her face, careworn yet glowing with wonder.  And, she saw the mangled remains of her wings.  Shredded and limp, they hung from her shoulders, the feathers at the tips completely gone.  Intashna wept, for now she was little more than nothing.

“That is not true.”

A hand clasped Intashna’s shoulder, and the Faery turned around, her tear-filled eyes staring into the fathomless gaze of a towering man cloaked in light.  “You,” she gasped.  “It is you.  You can mend my wings.”

The man’s face was sad, but his voice was gentle and held a smile when he said, “You do not need wings to fly, dear one.  You will fly even as you remain on the ground.” Gentle arms wrapped around her, and the man began to sing softly:

“Beyond the Final Water falling,

The Songs of Spheres recalling.

When you find yourself bound in Death-In-Life’s cold embrace,

Won’t you call to me?”

Intashna gulped, her eyes flashing.  “Y-You will not mend my wings? I am doomed to a life of weakness?”

“You are destined for a life of greatness.  You will reunite two brothers.  Trust me, child.” With these final words, the shining man vanished.

Intashna stared at the place where the man had been.  Then, she heard the rustling of branches to her right.  The grove of trees parted as if a door of some sort had opened, and a man stepped into view, a man who carried a silver-filigreed lantern from which streams of light poured forth.  His face was ashen, yet his stance was strong.  He stepped past Intashna without seeing her, and Intashna knew where the Lantern-Bearer was going.  He was searching for his brother.  She fell into step behind him, little noticing the black-cloaked shadow that watched them from a distance.

The Flame at Night ravaged the Near World and the Far, first seeking the mortal girl who had gained the favor of the one she loved.  Intashna was fully aware of the desolation, for wherever Akilun went, she was close behind.

One day in the midst of the turmoil, she walked behind the lantern-bearer, her feet throbbing with every step.  She had no concept of Time, so she had no way of knowing how long she had followed the one she loved.  Now, she watched as he stopped and turned, scanning the area around him.  “Immortal One, why do you follow me?”

Intashna froze, her heart pounding and tears filling her eyes.  The voice was so soft, so very tired.  “I-I want to make sure you stay safe.”

“I have known of your presence for some time now.  My Lord told me to speak to you.  What good can be gained from your persistent silence? Do you not know that I trod dangerous—“ He stopped, his eyes suddenly widening as they beheld her mangled wings.  “What happened to you?” He stepped to her side, gently reaching out to touch her.

“M-My queen.  She forgot herself.”

Akilun’s eyes filled with tears.  He nodded, his fingers caressing her wings.  He held out the glittering lantern, inclining it so that the light fell upon Intashna’s wounds.  “Yes,” he murmured, “just as my brother has forgotten himself.”

Intashna felt the warmth of the lantern’s light course through her body.  For a moment, she felt her wings quiver, but then they were still.  Yet, this fact hardly mattered.  Something more wondrous than physical healing occurred.  She finally understood.  “I know now,” she whispered.  “I know what Ytotia truly wants.”

Akilun looked at her, his gaze puzzled.  “And, will you help her find what that might be?” he murmured.

Intashna hesitated for a moment.  Finally, she said, “I know you cannot come with me.  But, might I thank you?”

Akilun shook his head.  “I did not do—“

“I meant to say, might I thank you for following him? I-We were saved because you listened to the Song Giver.  I am grateful.” Intashna did not know from whence her courage arose, but she leant forward, placing her arms around the startled knight.  “I-I love you, both in the way Ytotia loves your brother and in the way the Song Giver loves us all.  I know I cannot fulfill the former, but perhaps I can fulfill the latter.  Please tell me that you will help Etanun to remember.”

Akilun gaped at her, his cheeks growing ruddy with embarrassment.  “No one’s ever—“ He cleared his throat and murmured, “Yes, I will try to help him remember.  We are one, after all.”

Without another word, Intashna walked away.  She was never to see Akilun alive again.

Cozamaloti Falls glimmered in the distance as Intashna neared her destination.  She knew who awaited her before the entrance, and she knew who was within.  She trembled.

“You are always a step behind, weak creature.” The rumbling voice of Death-In-Life reverberated, drowning out the cascading rush of water.  He laughed and spun around and around, his glowing eyes seeming to spark with destruction itself.  “I told you not to trifle with me.”

Shaking, Intashna spoke, her voice so small that she herself could not hear it.  “Is she within?”

“Why, yes she is.  But, I fear she will not recognize you.  So, this is hardly the time for a reunion.  I think we must talk for a moment first, don’t you?”

Intashna shuddered and stepped toward the gate.  With a bloodcurdling roar, the Dragon stepped between her and the rushing falls.  Swiftly, he transformed into a black-cloaked man, his muscular arms clutching her shoulders.  Pain, a pain so overpowering that screaming was impossible, tore into what was left of the Faerie’s wings.  Intashna knew that they had been ripped from her body entirely.  “I said we should talk, pathetic creature, and we shall do just that!” Death-In-Life bent close to the pain-wracked Faerie, hissing words that sought to pulverize her spirit.  “The one you love is dead, do you hear me? Killed by his own brother’s hand.  I tire of you weaklings interfering in my affairs, and I will cause all of you to suffer.” Then, his voice inexplicably softened, “But, I offer you a reprieve from my wrath.  Just allow me to kiss you.  Then, you may join my firstborn.  Shed the weak vessel in which you stand, the body that can easily be maimed.  The one who you now follow refused to heal you.  Become who you truly are.  Let me give you knew wings.  Let me help you.”

The words were so enticing, and the pain was so great.  Akilun was dead, and she herself was so very tired.  Yet, she was Intashna, and she knew what her queen needed.  “Akilun died,” she whispered, “but he lives, and Etanun lives as well.”

“What is that?” Death-In-Life leant closer, his eyes flaming.  “Did you say Etanun lives?” He laughed contemptuously.  “But, how does he live? As pathetic refuse.” He spat flame, snarling in fury.

Intashna whispered, “He is stronger than you’ll ever be.” Then, she began to sing, her voice wavering, “Glory! Glory! Glory and praise to the Namer of all things.  Worthy! Worthy! Worthy is the Song Giver and King!” As she sang, a chorus joined in, the chorus of multitudes of stars and of her brothers and sisters within Etalpalli’s gates.

Death-In-Life screamed, thrusting her from him.  Transforming into his Dragon form, he prepared to take flight.  Yet, the towering form of the Lumil Eliasul suddenly stood before him, his eyes tear-filled and his face stern.  “You will stay here, Death-In-Life.  You will witness yet again what you no longer understand.  You will continually witness this, for my glory is revealed in weakness.  You rejected me, but those you call weaklings trust me.”

“I-It is useless,” Death-In-Life tried to speak mockingly, but his voice trembled.  “You send her to her death.  How can you say you love them?”

“You shall see.” The Lumil Eliasul looked at Intashna, his eyes filled with strength.  Holding out his hand, he placed a glittering cupful of water into the Faerie’s trembling palm.  “Use this well, my child.”

Intashna hesitated.  Then, she ran into Cozamaloti Falls, allowing the rushing water to carry her into her home.  As she ran, she cried, “I enter Etalpalli for Ytotia sake! She seeks a savior.”

The destruction was beyond anything Intashna could have imagined.  She moaned in agony as she stared at the charred remains of her home, at the disintegrating towers where carefree Faerie’s once perched. Intashna saw a fountain of flame spurting from one tower that she knew so well.  She hurried to the tower, her eyes smarting from the flames.  “Ytotia!” she cried.  “You seek a savior.  Etanun is not him.  He and his brother merely do the true savior’s bidding.  You are gifted as well, and the savior longs to help you use your gifts for his glory.”

A volley of flame slammed into Intashna’s face as she struggled to climb the tower stairs.  Through the flame, she glimpsed her queen, once so very beautiful and now a ruin of her former self.  Ytotia’s frame buckled under the weight of the inferno that spewed from her.  Bellows of pain filled the air, and Intashna saw the gaping, bloodied scars where wings had once been.  With a cry of desperation, Intashna reached upward, flinging the cup of water at the flames.  “Lumil Eliasul! Please come to her!”

With a final burst of heat, the flames suddenly faded away, and Intashna plummeted from the tower.  As she fell, she glimpsed Ytotia lying upon the tower floor, her sides heaving in agony.  A form bent over her, reaching down as if to gather the piteous creature into his arms.  Gently, and with a voice choked with tears, the Lumil Eliasul sang:

“Beyond the Final Water Falling,

The Songs of Spheres recalling.

When you find that your strength is nothing but frailness,

Won’t you lean on me?”

Ytotia lay utterly still, her furnace momentarily extinguished.

And, Intashna found that she herself did not fall to the ground.  She did not die an immortal’s death.  She found herself gathered into the arms of a stooped, elderly man, a man who held a mop of all things.  “The one they call the Murderer,” Intashna murmured.  “Wh-Where are you taking me?”

“To my haven, courageous Immortal One.  Many people need our help.  Then, when the time is right, I’ll take you to a certain castle.  You’re not afraid of scullery work, are you?”

Intashna blinked.  “No more than you are afraid of mopping.”

Etanun laughed.  “Well, we’ll learn from each other, won’t we? I myself wouldn’t have chosen the position of a scrubber, but I’ve learned a lot lately.”

“Yes,” Intashna nodded.  “I have as well.”

A century later, (though Time is irrelevant), a silent serving maid walked among enslaved men and women, bearing cups of pure water that revived those who drank it.  She whispered rhymes of hope into the din of desolation, trusting that her Master would help those with ears to hear to understand.  An unlikely creature did hear, a creature of strength who would later become weak.  And, the serving maid waited for the coming of the king.