The Blackbird's Song

by Billy Wong

  Leaning as she had been against Ian, Mandy opened her eyes. "No, I want to see... my parents one last time."

  "Shush Mandy, you're not going to die," Ian insisted tearily. "My leg's getting stiff though, Marcus. If we stop again, I might not be able to get up next time and you'll have to carry me."

  "Fine, let's keep going." He clutched his side as he resumed moving. Ahead, he spotted a figure. Huh? It looked to be a young girl, who should at least be wary of ten grizzled and dirty mercenaries, but she ran down the road towards them without any apparent concern.

  The girl, upon closer examination, had quite a few scars, carried an enormous sword for her size, and moved incredibly fast with no discernible effort. Now he grew a little wary, especially when she stopped before him.

  "You look hurt," she said. "What happened?"

  "We, ah, got in a fight with criminals. They did hurt some of us, but we won in the end."

  She reached inside her belt pouch and pulled something out. "Want berry? Help with the pain."

  He stared at the tiny pink fruit. If she wanted to kill them, he wouldn't expect it to be with poison, and her voice didn't give away any hint of trickery, but the offer was just so unexpected... "Greg, you come and try it."

  The man who had been nearly brained by the heretic's sword despite his helm shambled closer like a ghoul. "Berry, pretty." He put it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. After several seconds, he mumbled, "Head hurts a little less."

  Marcus grabbed the next berry the girl produced and threw it between his mandibles. Chomp chomp chomp... he felt a numbing sensation dull the sting in his side. "Thanks, girlie."

  She walked over to Mandy. Having closed her eyes, the failing woman opened them again. "Wuh..?"

  The girl frowned glumly. "Smells like death. Here, have berry, suffer less." Marcus worried what would happen if Mandy dropped dead right after eating it, but it didn't happen and she continued leaning against Ian with a slightly less tortured expression.

  "I need a berry too," Ian said. "Leg's getting worse." And the girl gave him one.

  She nodded in satisfaction. "Looks like no others hurt. You lucky, except woman, wounds not too bad. My friend lose arm." Marcus' jaw dropped slowly. "I go save other friend now, good luck. Town that way, right?" A weak nod was all the response he could muster, and she blasted past the other mercenaries towards...

  Seeing the way he gaped, Ian asked, "Who was that?"

  "I don't know—but I think we just got very lucky."

  #

  Glenn thought to taunt the captive again, then sighed as he realized the man had passed out. Granted, it wasn't so ethical to torment a prisoner even mentally, but if he was bound to be dead soon anyway what was the harm? It bored him so waiting for someone to come pick him up, and besides the boy had mocked his poor business when they first met. He supposed such crudeness suited a heretic. Nonetheless, he felt the unpleasantness of dealing with this one and those greedy mercenaries were more than a fair trade for the reward he would get in return. Soon he'd have the funds to give the inn an updated look, and enough left over to help the neighbors some...

  He heard a person step through the door and looked up. A girl in black stood there, holding a ridiculously large sword in one hand. "So you're the church representative?"

  "He hurt," she said with a look at the unconscious "Henry," if Glenn recalled his name right. "You do that to him?"

  "Some mercenaries technically did. But yes, I hired them. Why do you sound so agitated, anyway? He's alive, that's all you asked for no?"

  "What about his friend, who break arm of him?"

  "I didn't see that. But judging from the chatter, a big man with a mace did."

  The girl's eyes went wide. "Big man... with mace? I saw him. Maybe, good thing his woman dying."

  Glenn began to get nervous. "Um, why would you think it's good one of the mercenaries who helped you is dying? You're talking about that redhead who got run through the ribs? Thought she'd have expired already by now."

  "You say you hire them."

  "Yes..." He started to back away, reaching for the holy spear propped against a chair behind him. "Y-you're not from the church, are you?"

  She glared at him, and he realized he was in deep trouble. "Church bad people. You work for church, you bad people."

  "No, I don't work for the church, I'm just trying to help the town! We need money, turning him in would get us that. I don't have anything against your friends, I'll let them go if you ask. I have money too..." Seeing the look in her eyes was completely unchanged, his spirits fell. "You're not listening, are you? Aw, hell." He grabbed up the spear, raised it like a javelin to throw. He'd only have one chance... Wait.

  Where was the girl? Why was he on the floor, why did his back suddenly hurt so bad, and whose legs were those lying a bit away from him wearing his—oh.

  Chapter 4

  "Shouldn't have given bad people berries," Blackbird muttered. "Need to be more caution next time out."

  Having regained consciousness after leaving the town, Henry now rode Blackbird piggyback while she sprinted towards the mountains. She had given him the holy spear to hold, but he still didn't feel great about the current distribution of tasks. "You can put me down if you want," he said, marveling at her windlike speed even while carrying him. "I can walk on my own now."

  She didn't slow down. "You hurt head, still slow. Much faster this way."

  And boy, it was. Nearing the foot of the mountain they had gone down on the way here, she dashed up a ramp-shaped rock and jumped for the ledge ten feet away and at least a yard further up. Henry felt dizzy seeing the ground pass below, and couldn't believe it when she landed on her feet and kept running without missing a beat. She turned left and leapt to another even more distant ledge. Her next destination was too high even for her to clear in one leap, so she jumped, caught the edge with her fingers and hauled them both up easily with a single arm.

  What a monster! Out loud, he asked, "Uh, why all the acrobatics? Showing off for me are we?"

  "No. Andrew hurt. I hide where no people find, get there faster like this."

  Henry's mouth went dry. Probably due to being concussed, his awareness of the severity of his friend's injury had lapsed, but now an image of the mutilated limb appeared in his mind's eye and made his stomach churn. "I-is he alright?"

  "Alive last I saw." But how flatly she spoke did not bode well. Henry knew what he should ask, yet couldn't muster the guts to do it. He waited in silence like a coward until she swung from a branch to propel them to an extremely isolated ledge where she stopped. She set him down on his feet and headed for a niche in the wall. As they drew closer, quiet weeping could be heard from it.

  So at least he's still alive, he reassured himself, and steeled himself for... he wasn't sure what, or maybe he just blanked out the possibilities. What he saw probably wasn't as bad as it could have been, for it turned out Blackbird made a competent enough field medic. Andrew's destroyed arm seemed to have been cleanly sliced off, the stump cauterized and bandaged. He lived, and appeared coherent enough it was probable he would continue to.

  But the misery in his eyes as he sat there, trembling ceaselessly while he cradled the wrapped stub attached to his left shoulder, broke Henry's heart. "I'm useless," he sputtered, "I can't do any more. I thought after we took down the church, I would become a reputable fighter and make my parents proud like my sister would have." He did come from a family of warriors, after all. "But it's not possible anymore... I'll only be a burden to you now. Maybe I should've just died after I found her... my usefulness... my time is over."

  Henry felt so shaken and weighed down by his friend's despondence, he was driven to tears himself. He let them run freely while he hugged the younger man. "Useless, you? No way! You're the one who saved my life twice, taking the mace for me and still coming all this way to find Blackbird with a wound that could have killed you. Besides, even without that you're a brother to me. I would never abandon you."
<
br />   "D-don't try to comfort me. I know I did some good things, before. But in the future, there's no place for me. I... if I don't die, just leave me in a foreign monastery somewhere so I can live out the rest of my days without being a pain for you. Let a church bear the burden of me, that'll be my last rebellion."

  He couldn't believe it. After resolving so strongly to correct the injustices of the church, Andrew was giving up now, going so far as to resign himself to wasting away in a religious institution though he renounced divinities? Henry's blood seemed to have turned cold with dread, and he could barely keep his voice steady. "Oh come on, don't be so down on yourself. It's just an arm, there have been famous warriors missing one—like Milo the Mad, who straps a big spiked shield to his stub." He forced a smile. "Besides, it not even your right arm."

  "That's a stupid joke, you know I'm ambidextrous. Besides, I'm not that skilled, and my best weapon is the spear... without both arms, I can't use it properly, so how can I ever be good? And Kara won't like me anymore either... I'm just... nothing now."

  At a loss how to soothe him, Henry glanced around—and saw Blackbird. She had turned away to stare off into space, but her posture indicated she felt bad too. "I should have come," she whispered, obviously guilty. "I too afraid of myself. No be afraid anymore." Wait, there was an idea...

  He returned his attention to Andrew. "Hey, you don't need to despair. I'm not going to downplay your loss, and it'll be a challenge to adjust. But if being a good warrior is what you're worried most about, once you get well why not let Blackbird train you into a better fighter than you've ever been?" They both looked at him. "I mean, I'm sure her with one arm would still be way better than me." Blackbird fidgeted uncomfortably at the thought.

  "But a lot of why Blackbird's so good is because she's so strong and fast," Andrew said. "We probably can't be taught that without growing up the same way she did, can we?"

  "Her physical attributes are part of it, but I think she has great skills—knowledge of leverage, counters, accuracy, timing, and things like that—too. You can help him improve in those areas, no?"

  She gazed down. "I don't know. I no teach before." A pause. "But he hurt because of me. So I try my best."

  Andrew's eyes brightened a tiny bit at that. It didn't make up for what had been taken from him, not at all... but it was a ray of hope. "Then maybe, I can live on after all."

  Henry wasn't sure he should say what came to mind next, given this was his friend's moment. But being badly injured, Andrew probably wouldn't able to train again for weeks if not more. Meanwhile, "What about me? I could also learn some things from you, can I practice with you sometimes too?"

  A grin played across Blackbird's face. "If you keep up, sure. We should stay here in the mountains for now, until friend better."

  "You think the church will send people after us?" Andrew asked.

  After contemplating it, Henry said, "I don't think so. As many bad things as we can say about them, they don't like to waste men. They must have some idea of the losses they'd sustain if they went after Blackbird in her element, and we shouldn't be that important to them. My guess is they'll probably expect us to come down sometime and wait until then to make their move."

  "What about the folks desperate for money who might not know about Blackbird seeking the reward?"

  The wild girl shrugged. "I'll get rid of them."

  Weeks passed and proved Henry's prediction right as no official church agents visited them. Occasionally independent bounty hunters did try to collect on them, and Blackbird killed or scared them away depending on her mood. Henry usually tried to encourage leniency. One time she frightened off a group just by telling a story about her battle with a monster like a thirty foot ape armored with steel-strong bone plates all over. He fully believed her, but that didn't stop her from showing him the nearby skeleton later.

  The cool environment didn't do Andrew many favors in his condition, as he spent a lot of time shivering and hugging himself in spite of Blackbird lending him her cape for an extra blanket. Henry grew deathly fearful for him, and prayed twice a day or more for God to help him. But he survived, and slowly recovered while Henry honed his fighting skills under Blackbird's tutelage. She did know some intricacies of swordplay to share with him, such as how to better angle a blade to minimize recovery time between attacks and how to lean on and tire a defending opponent faster, but also showed him exercises to improve his reaction speed. One of her favorites was to toss nuts into the air and see how many you could slice before they fell down; she could do it to a whole handful she threw herself, which was absurd. He could feel his improvement, as he became better able to follow her moves if not nearly keep up. Thanks to his aid in return, her speech also got better.

  One afternoon, they were out hunting when they heard a groan from below. They looked to see an older man dressed in gold and silver lying at the bottom of a pit, a leg twisted beneath him. Blackbird jumped down and raised her sword. "Bad person die!" The man raised his hands before him pleadingly.

  "No, don't!" Henry shouted.

  "Why not? He church person, church people bad right?"

  "Maybe, but he's helpless—we can't just murder random folks we don't know when they're helpless, that would make us 'bad people.'" He climbed down. "But why are you here? Coming alone, when you can manage to fall into a hole all by yourself—you can't be here to fight, are you?"

  The man looked relieved when Blackbird lowered her sword. "I'd hoped you had some goodness in you, hearing that you didn't kill everyone who came after you. You're right I'm not here to fight, just to talk."

  Blackbird scowled. "You could maybe not worn church cloths. I could have kill before you talk."

  "You have a point, but I am a man of God and had no intention to hide that."

  "So what do you want to talk about?" Henry asked. "Are you going to try and convince us to turn ourselves in, or give back the spear?"

  Though his expression was pained, Henry assumed he was trying to smile. "I wouldn't expect you to do the former, and would not mind the latter. But I was curious, why are you that convinced the church is wrong regarding the artifacts and trying so hard to defy it? Everybody realizes they are evil, how is it you think you know better?"

  "I know because I've used one of them, many times. I, nor the ones I healed were corrupted."

  "But how long did you use it for? If you only held it for a short while, it might only be that you didn't spend enough time in contact with it."

  "Nine long months. I helped dozens of people in that time, if they were corrupted I'm sure we would have heard something." Henry frowned. "I've told you the evidence for my belief. Now show me yours for the opposite."

  The man surprised him with his candidness. "I do not have any. I am a man of God, but not a blind follower. However, have you considered other possible reasons for the church's actions?"

  "Such as?"

  "Mortal magic was once abundant, then almost vanished from the world. Do you think there is a reason for that, and perhaps the church's policy is so that it is not demonstrated again? You think the magic will help the world; it could be that view is not the most farsighted. I don't believe you are evil, and I can admire your persistence, but you should think about the fact maybe your war is misguided."

  He seemed so reasonable, Henry couldn't think of an immediate rebuttal. However, Blackbird said, "That so stereo... stereo... er... just because some past people make mistakes doesn't mean we'd make same ones!"

  Henry nodded at her. "That's right. Knowledge is power, but it isn't good or evil in itself. If others failed to use it well that just means our generation should strive to take better advantage of it, not destroy it."

  "The two of you argue well. I suppose I can respect your stance, and find no fundamental flaws in it. This has been a fine discussion I don't regret. However, I am still in need of a crutch and help out of this hole. Will you be so kind to an old man?"

  "Well, if we don't help it'll probably be t
he same as killing you. So we will."

  Blackbird carried the man out and they sent him on his way with a makeshift crutch and a grudging respect between them. "Not all church people are completely evil," Henry mused. "I mean, I knew that, but now you do too Blackbird."

  She grasped her hilt. "Not all bad. But still, if fight me I kill."

  "That's acceptable."

  After one month, Andrew was able to begin light training. Though he struggled with the lack of an arm, he dove headlong into learning a new style with a sword and buckler (both retrieved from slain bounty hunters) fitted onto his stump. Henry felt light with pride for him, and remembered how afraid he'd been when it seemed like his spirit might break. None of their spirits should break, he thought, they should all be happy and guide the people eagerly into a new age of enlightenment. Okay, that might be getting ahead of themselves. They weren't even the leaders of the movement to preserve ancient knowledge and Blackbird had, well, limited social skills. What he would give to have Pete, the wise man he'd met after losing the curing ring who taught him everything he knew about artifacts and gave him his new purpose, here to guide them. But he hoped at least they would come through alive and someday be able to enjoy a world no longer held back by willful ignorance.

  "By the way, Andrew," he said while sitting covered in sweat after a great practice where his friend had finally scored a hit on him again after so long, "have I told you how much I love you?"

  He stared. "Henry! You're not getting queer notions from being up here lacking female company, are you? Wait, there is Blackbird..."

  "I didn't mean it that way, beautiful—um just kidding why are you pulling your knife out—I just feel we're more like family than ever after all we've traveled and been through together. Even though this mountain isn't the ideal place to settle down, I'm really not feeling any hurry to leave it."

  "We've been together forever," Andrew said, sounding a tad flustered at his sentimentality. "But I suppose after the life and death struggles and saving each other a bunch of times"—he looked at his arm, but didn't specifically mention it—"this time will be strong in our memories. So is Blackbird part of the family too, then?"