And there had been Tacit, ready to step into his designated spot.

It had all been so hideously unfair. I was not ready to accept or concede the possibility that Tacit might be better, worthier than me. Instead I saw in him, with his self-aggrandizing ballads, a smug symbol of everything that had been lacking in my life, and if I usurped that symbol, then maybe my life would no longer seem so empty, so filled only with bile and frustration and cynicism.

If I could take Tacit's place in the story . . . I could be the hero.

It was really that simple. I would hijack destiny's plot, laugh in the face of the author, and write my own ending. I would turn it around. No longer would I be Apropos the disposable character. Instead I would take over the narrative and drive it in a direction more to my liking.

That was my plan, at least, provided I could get the d.a.m.ned bird to cooperate.

The phoenix tried to shake me off once more, but I was holding on too tightly. It struggled beneath my grip, fought to throw me off, failed. It flapped around in midair, not going in any particular direction, but instead simply hanging there like a swimmer treading water.

I knew that this was it. This was the moment to firmly grasp the reins of destiny and send it galloping in a direction that suited my fancy. Unfortunately, I had a slight drawback: not being a hero, I had no clue as to what I should do next. I had thrust myself into the role, rather than been destined for it through fate and nature, as Tacit had been.

For a few seconds, I felt panic welling up inside me. Perhaps this had not been such a great idea after all.

The phoenix, possibly sensing my hesitation, let out another ear-piercing scream and then threw itself through the air. I let out a shriek of my own-rather girlish, I hate to admit-but held on nonetheless. Fortunately the noise I had made was drowned out by the phoenix's own.

Tacit probably would have enjoyed the ride. He would have considered the experience and adventure somewhat exhilarating. Me, I was just doing everything I could not to heave up what I'd eaten that morning as the bird banked sharply and wheeled through the air.

It was then that I spotted, from on high, the Harpers Bizarre.

The phoenix did as well, and it angled its head in curiosity as it stared down at the strange creatures. The Harpers were gliding across the tops of the trees, clutching onto high branches and thrusting themselves forward, their wings moving their distorted bodies through the air with considerable alacrity. I strained my eyes and was able to make out the struggling form of the Princess Entipy. No one Harper seemed able to control her. Instead she was being carried by four Harpers, one each gripping one of her limbs. Even in such an uncomfortable and unfortunate position, she continued to struggle. I had to credit her this: She didn't take defeat easily.

It was at that moment that I realized what the heroic thing would be to do: rescue Entipy. Clearly that was what Tacit had intended. And if he had intended it, why . . . that meant that it was supposed to happen. Destiny's plan, as fate would have it, and all those other niceties. But since I had impulsively commandeered the role of hero, it was inc.u.mbent upon me to a.s.sume all the responsibilities therein.

Except I had no stomach for going up against the Harpers again. I had gotten away from them once, and counted myself lucky.

The phoenix, however, had other ideas. For it should be remembered that the phoenix was still a newborn, and newborns tend to be rather hungry. Now, there was no record of any phoenix ever having attacked, devoured, or tried to devour a human being. Smaller winged creatures, on the other hand, seemed to be well within the confines of the phoenix's preferred menu.

Consequently, the phoenix took one look at the Harpers Bizarre and sensed its first meal. I have no idea whether the phoenix even remembered I was on board at the time. If it did remember, it certainly didn't attach much importance to my presence. Instead it folded its wings back and dove toward the Harpers, who were still unaware that they had been targeted as an entree.

Aileron was in the lead, as was appropriate for a leader, and it was he who spotted the phoenix first. The phoenix had not made any noise at that point; some instinct simply warned Aileron to look up. He saw the phoenix dropping like a boulder, its claws outstretched, descending at horrifying speed. Aileron shouted an alarm to the rest of his warriors, and the phoenix-knowing that it had been spotted-let out a screeeeeee screeeeeee of such deafening proportions that I could only a.s.sume it had done so for the purpose of freezing its intended prey in their tracks. of such deafening proportions that I could only a.s.sume it had done so for the purpose of freezing its intended prey in their tracks.

To some degree, it worked. A number of the Harpers Bizarre looked up at the oncoming bird and stopped right where they were. They stared upward with eyes so wide and so terrified that I thought their orbs were going to leap out of their faces and try to make a break for it on their own.

"Arroooooowwws!" shouted Aileron, and his order got through to some of them, but not all. Even as some of the Harpers nocked their arrows, the phoenix tore into them, its claws out and slicing through them with such ease that one would have thought the bird was sliding a knife through cheese.

Entipy continued to struggle, and her captors had no idea which way to look. They saw several of their fellows gutted in seconds, saw others firing arrows, saw the bird bearing down on them, and did the only thing they could-scattered and ran. This left Entipy with no support at all, and she fell, but not far. Where she was at that point, the branches were particularly dense. She didn't plunge more than a couple of feet before coming to a halt on upswept branches. She thrashed about, the branches tearing at her clothes, shouting imprecations and letting anyone within hearing distance know that they were going to rue the day.

Aileron wasn't concerned about ruing any days. Instead he had spotted me, holding on for dear life to the back of the bird. Our gazes locked, his eyes widened, and he shouted "Aaaaapropohhhh!" even as the Harpers unleashed a volley of arrows at us.

The phoenix was fast, but not that fast. It could not angle out of the way as arrows thudded into its underbelly. The phoenix let out a cry, but it was not a death scream so much as it was a That hurt and now I'll kill you even more That hurt and now I'll kill you even more scream. And if that was indeed the bird's sentiment, it certainly did not hesitate to put deed to thought. scream. And if that was indeed the bird's sentiment, it certainly did not hesitate to put deed to thought.

The great creature took in a deep breath and then puffed out its chest. The arrows exploded from where they had struck, tumbling end over end with vicious speed. The Harpers scattered as they tried to get out of the way of the returning shafts. Many of them managed to get clear. Several of them did not, and crashed into the treetops, writhing with arrows lodged in their torsos or throats or legs.

Aileron's fury was beyond any that was measurable on a human scale. From I-know-not-where, he pulled a dagger and waved it at us defiantly. "Yoooouuuu will diiiieeeeee!" he cawed, and then he saw Entipy still thrashing about in the top of the tree some yards away. "But sheeeeee will dieeee fiiiirst!"

The phoenix didn't seem particularly interested in cooperating with me. It was much more interested in feasting upon the struggling bodies of the Harpers. The creature had just snagged one of them with its powerful talons, shredding the Harper's wings effortlessly. It flipped the thrashing Harper into the air and then snagged it in its beak in the same way that you might toss a grape in the air and catch it on your tongue. Like a great cat worrying a mouse, the phoenix shook its head violently, keeping the upper half of the Harper securely within its beak while allowing the lower half to be torn free and fall away. Apparently the phoenix preferred white meat.

As fascinating as this insight into phoenix culinary tastes was, it did nothing to attend to the fact that Entipy was in mortal danger. When she saw Aileron advancing on her, though, she displayed not a jot of fear. Instead she unleashed a string of invective so overpowering that it stopped the surprised Harpers leader dead. Apparently he was accustomed to intended victims begging, pleading, or railing against the unfairness of their situation. He was not used to being cursed out.

His brief hesitation was what I needed to close the gap between myself and the princess. I still had the staff positioned across the phoenix's throat. I hadn't been pressing it particularly hard, giving the bird the opportunity to attack and feast as it saw fit. Now, though, I had to take charge, as problematic as that might seem. I drew the staff tight against the phoenix's throat, which certainly got the bird's squawking attention. "Down!" I shouted, and pointed with emphasis toward Entipy. "Down! Hurry!"

The phoenix had obviously fully acquired its vision by then. It looked down, saw Entipy, and then saw the Harper advancing on her. Whether the phoenix acted out of a sense of wanting to rescue the girl, or out of interest in grabbing another snack, I could not really say. Either way, the result was the same. The phoenix flapped its powerful wings once and then headed straight down toward Aileron.

Aileron, I could see, was a.s.sessing the distance between himself and the phoenix, which was in the midst of a spectacular dive. Then he calculated how far it was to get to the still thrashing Entipy. The choice before him was clear: Could he get to Entipy and gut her before the phoenix got within range and gutted him?

Apparently he decided that the answer was yes, for with a mighty howl he leaped the remaining distance toward Entipy, his blade outstretched, ready to be rammed into her heaving (if modest) bosom and redecorate the treetops with her lifeblood.

At that moment, Entipy snapped off a large branch and brought it up right into Aileron's path. He became entangled in it, cutting free of it with his dagger. The action only delayed him seconds . . . but it was all the seconds I required. Wrapping an arm around the phoenix's neck, I extended the staff with the other hand and shouted, "Princess! Grab it!"

For once in her arrogant little life, Entipy did not argue. She lunged for the staff and gripped it firmly, and then the phoenix pumped its wings and we angled upward once more. Entipy curled up her legs as Aileron lunged for her, but he missed her clean and crashed through the upper level of the branches. He vanished into the lower level of the terrace of branches, and as he did so he howled, "I will geeetttt youuuuu, Aprooooopoooosssss!"

The rest of the Harpers had scattered, realizing that they were hopelessly overmatched by the powerfully flapping phoenix. Filled with determination, Entipy hauled herself up the staff, hand over hand, grunting slightly but otherwise giving no indication of the effort involved. I had to admit, I was a bit impressed; I had simply figured that she would dangle and that I'd have to pull her up myself. But she obviously wasn't waiting for me.

She drew herself up to the back of the phoenix and clambered aboard. There wasn't a lot of grace or artistry to her doing so; she just sort of flopped aboard. "Are you all right?" I asked, or at least I started to ask. She didn't give me the time to get the entire sentence out. Instead she slugged me forcefully in the shoulder, hard enough to get a rather loud yelp out of me. "What did you do that for?!?"

"You abandoned abandoned me, you a.s.shole! You begged for your miserable life and left me in the hands of the Harpers Bizarre!" me, you a.s.shole! You begged for your miserable life and left me in the hands of the Harpers Bizarre!"

Trying to recover my self-possession, I said serenely, "All part of my master plan."

"Master plan? You're telling me you went to find this . . . this . . ." She looked the bird over. "What is this, anyway?"

"The phoenix."

I informed her of that with a certain degree of smug satisfaction, and clearly that smugness carried over, because Entipy finally looked ever-so-slightly impressed. "This is a phoenix that we're on? A . . . real phoenix?"

"That's right," I said. At which point I made a rather horrendous mistake.

I became overconfident.

I reached down and patted the phoenix on the side of the head, as if we were astride a sort of overgrown horse or some other docile creature, rather than a monster of myth which was newly hatched, cranky, and confused. In short, the phoenix's reaction to my paternal pat was not a positive one.

The creature went berserk.

Bucking wildly, the phoenix suddenly vaulted heavenward as if it intended to rip free of gravity and hurtle into deep s.p.a.ce. Entipy was almost tossed right off, but she barely managed to maintain her position by throwing her arms around my stomach. To be accurate, she was holding on to where my stomach previously had been. Thanks to the sudden jolt of the phoenix's upward thrust, my stomach had relocated to somewhere in my boots. The wind hammered so hard against me that that alone was almost enough to blow me right off the creature.

The phoenix wasn't doing any more flips. It was as if, angered over being used and abused, it felt that simply tossing us off wasn't sufficient punishment. The phoenix continued to climb, higher and higher, then suddenly pivoted and angled back down again. This time Entipy slammed forward, and I yelped as her jaw dug into my shoulder. Considering that it was her teeth smacking up against me, it probably didn't feel any better on her end either.

"Do something!" she howled.

"I am! I'm holding on!" I was grasping the creature's throat with one arm, and was desperately clutching my staff with the other. I tried to bring it up and around the bird's neck, but this time he was entirely too active for me to accomplish that seemingly simple feat. Every time I thought I could get an angle around, the bird changed course.

Suddenly the phoenix traded in pitches and curves for pure speed. It was hard to believe that it had only been born minutes before, because its command of its wings was complete. Screeching, the bird thrust forward, moving at high velocity. The ground became a blur beneath us.

"Where is it going?! Control it!" shouted Entipy over the roaring of the wind around us. I certainly tried my best, but the phoenix was becoming stronger with every pa.s.sing moment, and my thrusts and shoving on the great beast's head didn't even warrant its attention. At one point it snapped its beak warningly at my fingers, and I withdrew. Of course, I had my trump card; I could try to slay the beast, using either my sword or the blade in my staff. But that wasn't exactly the wisest of courses to pursue, because we were far too high. If we skewered the beast, its demise would shortly be followed by our own. So I didn't exactly see the advantage.

Besides . . . I had the sinking feeling that I knew precisely where the beast was going. Or, to be more precise, where it was going away from.

My mother had known what she was about when she spoke of destinies, that much was clear to me now. Unfortunately for me, the destiny that she had foreseen belonged to Tacit. I had hijacked it. The phoenix was a creature of myth and legend, the sort that is both born into, and dies from, destiny. If any being knew what was supposed to be what, it was the phoenix. And somehow it knew that the man riding astride it was not the right person at the right time. The destiny of the phoenix, the role that it was supposed to play, was to bring the triumphant Tacit back to the palace where he and Entipy would live happily and majestically ever after, I was quite certain of that. But because that destiny had been diverted, the phoenix was resolutely and instinctively heading away from the place that it was supposed to go. As much as we desperately wanted to get to the castle of King Runcible . . . that was how much the great flapping beast that we were riding wanted to head in the completely opposite direction.

Entipy had demanded to know where the phoenix was going. The answer to that was that the phoenix was not heading toward any place in particular, but rather away from somewhere else. We were racing not to the phoenix's destiny . . . but to mine. And I had no clue as to what that was.

Then again, I had always been fairly good at improvising.

Chapter 15.

Entipy lapsed into silence, which was enough of a blessing in and of itself. I paid no attention to her, since I was devoting my concentration to tracking just where in the world we were. The one thing I knew for certain was that we were heading west, because the sun was hanging directly in front of us on the horizon, dropping lower in the sky as sunset and evening approached. That was not a situation that I was looking forward to, because once night fell, I was going to have no way of knowing which way we were heading. At least with the sun still up, I could try to catch sight of a few landmarks-castles, distinctive mountain peaks, something.

We were no longer in Isteria, of that I was quite certain. We had pa.s.sed far beyond the boundaries of the city/state, and I couldn't even begin to guess just where the phoenix was going to have us wind up. Fancifully, I almost felt as if the phoenix, born of fire, wasn't going to stop flying until it had sailed directly into the sun itself, erupting in one glorious conflagration that I would have been in a far better position to admire had I not been stuck on the d.a.m.ned bird's back.

The phoenix started to angle off, and for a moment I thought it was descending. But a stronger, more furious pumping of its wings drove us to the northwest. The farther we went, the colder it was getting. I began to worry that the creature might take us to the Frozen North, and that we would possibly wind up in the clutches of King Meander (should he have decided to return to his former place of power). I saw my breath starting to mist up in front of me. It was not a comforting feeling. I didn't say anything to Entipy about it. I had the feeling that if I indicated any hint of concern or uncertainty, she would see it as weakness and use it as an excuse to verbally shred me. Considering my state of mind at that moment, the last thing I needed was her haranguing me. The temptation to shove her off might prove to be too great.

Unfortunately, Entipy finally decided to grace me with her verbal presence. "Where are we?" she said, and then-as if reading my mind-she added, "And if you say that we're on the back of a phoenix, so help me, I will knock you off."

"Being abruptly deprived of your company, Highness, is hardly what I would call a threat," I replied.

"Why are you so nasty?"

That actually prompted me to laugh. "You would ask that of me? You?"

"Yes, I would. I'm a princess. A princess is ent.i.tled to ask anything she wants, of anyone she wants. Why are you so nasty?" She paused, apparently considering the matter since she probably figured out that she wasn't going to get much response from me. She decided to answer for herself. "Don't you like women? You don't, do you," she added suspiciously-even contemptuously-after a moment's thought.

I sighed. "I have no more hostility for women than I do for anyone else."

"Meaning?"

"Your Worshipfulness," I said, "I would give anything, seize any excuse, not to have to continue this conversation."

Naturally, the phoenix decided to take me up on it.

With long fingers of night caressing the ground, the creature chose that moment to angle steeply downward. This abrupt movement was accompanied by two ear-piercing screams. The first was the phoenix itself, a howl of defiance torn from its throat. The second was the princess, who let out a most unhighnesslike screech of alarm. I managed to avoid emitting any unmanly cries through the simple expedient of biting down so hard on my lower lip that blood trickled down my chin.

"Stop him!" shouted Entipy.

I had no idea how I might go about accomplishing that, unfortunately. Slaying the beast was no more viable an option now than it had been earlier. All I could do was clutch on with all my strength and pray to the G.o.ds that the stupid thing-if it was indeed coming in for a landing, or planning to try and discharge us as pa.s.sengers-would do so gently. As with most of my prayers, it was met with resounding laughter from whatever divine beings were looking down upon me and watching me toil ceaselessly to amuse them and their perverse humors.

The phoenix suddenly leveled off, and then the bird flipped me.

Some inner, sixth sense warned me at the last moment. I lunged forward and threw my staff across the creature's throat, praying that the monster's beak wouldn't find my arms and snap them off at the elbows. In an eyeblink I had the staff in place and was gripping it on either side, and then the creature was flying upside down, and I was dangling. Only the strength of my arms was preventing me from tumbling to a bone-shattering fate below. My staff naturally pressed all the tighter across the phoenix's throat, but the beast didn't seem particularly perturbed by this state of affairs. And if it was, then it was at least aware that it was a condition destined to be quite temporary, for both the phoenix and I knew that it could fly upside down for far longer than I could hang on. Time and gravity were solidly in the phoenix's corner.

An additional factor, however, immediately weighed in to toss the odds even more greatly into the creature's favor. For Entipy had nothing to grab on to save for some feathers off the phoenix's back. Rather than a means of support, these served only as a handy souvenir of her trip, for they came loose in a heartbeat and then there was nothing between Entipy and the ground save air. By that point it was sufficiently dark that we couldn't see what was below us, but the odds were spectacular that it wasn't going to be something we'd wish to encounter while plummeting.

Entipy let out a shriek and, as she tumbled, grabbed on to the only thing around that offered the remotest hope of support: my legs.

I had tried to bathe a cat once, back when I was a child. The wretched thing was wandering the streets, and nuzzled up against me. So I cradled it in my arms, and it looked so filthy-beyond the animal's ability to groom itself, it seemed-that I found a tub of water and endeavored to immerse it. The cat yowled and wrapped itself around my lame leg. It took me d.a.m.ned near an hour to disengage the thing, at which point it took off for parts unknown, never to be seen again. Pets, whether they be bird or cat, and I don't seem to get along.

Entipy's grasp on my leg reminded me of the feline, as did the high-pitched yelping that she was giving off. She was holding on to my left leg, immobilizing it. That was fortunate for her; if she'd been holding on to my right leg, I'd have used my good left one to kick her loose. I knew that my situation was hopeless, but I had no desire to expedite the disaster that was looming beneath us.

And that was when the creature got the bright idea of tilting its head backward toward its own spine. Basically, the phoenix's own beak and head had been holding my staff in place. In angling its head downward, it allowed my staff to slide straight down and off. And then we were falling.

I would like to say that, even at that point where death seemed imminent, I kept a stoic and manly silence. I would like to. The truth is that I uncorked a scream of terror that probably deafened the phoenix, which certainly didn't bother me greatly. Entipy might have been screaming as well, but I definitely drowned her out. The only upside to the entire situation was that she had come loose from my leg, without my even having to try to bathe her.

I have no idea if you have ever fallen from a great height. Certainly everyone has had dreams of such a thing now and then. I can a.s.sure you from personal experience that there is no more horrific sensation than being in free fall. The thing is, when you're experiencing something awful-a battle, an illness, a bad marriage-you can draw some measure of comfort from the knowledge that sooner or later the experience will be terminated. The depressing thing about falling is knowing that the termination is not going to be an improvement.

Impressively, as I fell, I still managed to hold on to my staff. I had no idea why this might be any sort of a good thing; certainly after I was dead, it wasn't going to be of much use to me. Then again, one doesn't tend to think rationally at such moments.

I tumbled end over end, having no idea how long I fell, certain that it was for ages when very likely it was only for seconds. And then I hit.

I heard something loud snapping and for one delirious, insane moment I thought I was hearing the breaking of every bone in my body. My mother had once told me that once a broken bone heals, it becomes much stronger. If that were the case, then I would be a virtual superman if I ever managed to walk again.

But then I realized that the ground was giving way beneath me, and-comprehending by degrees-I further realized that I had not in fact struck the ground. Instead I plunged into the midst of what was clearly an a.s.sortment of branches, and I understood immediately that I had fallen into trees. The branches served to slow down my descent, although not by much. They crackled and splintered around me, tearing at my clothes, ripping my skin. I tried to grab onto some for support but none of them were large enough to singly support my weight.

And then I was through the forestry. The air whirled around me and I saw tree trunks hurtling by, and then I crashed into a thicket of bushes.

With thorns, naturally.

Fortunately enough, I was by that point so dazed, my body racked with such pain, that the thorns barely made an impression on me. I simply lay there, amidst the brush, looking around in a daze, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and for my brain to adjust to the reality of my not being dead.

That was when I heard a yowling from overhead.

I knew who and what it was before I even craned my neck to look up. I could see Entipy's legs thrashing about in the upper reaches of the branches. Apparently, with her being somewhat lighter than I, the trees had actually managed to slow Entipy's fall so that she didn't penetrate the greensward. She was hung up high above me, uttering a series of most unprincessly imprecations.

"The more you jostle about up there," I called up to her, forcing my voice above her shouting, "the more likely you are to break loose, fall, and injure or kill yourself."

That stopped her.

For a long moment I seriously considered just walking away, abandoning her altogether. The princess was no walk in the woods, and that was apparently just what I was going to be stuck with. I was reasonably sure I could survive in a forest indefinitely. I didn't need her. Nor, for that matter, did I really need to return to the castle. At that point in time, if I never saw the place again, it would suit me just fine.

But I had embarked on a course. I had to see it through, because . . .

. . . because the truth was that I had never seen anything through.

I make no bones about it to you. I have sworn utter honesty, after all. In truth, there was no one in all the world whom I held in greater contempt than I myself: he who came from nothing, aspiring to be something, who had not only surrounded himself with hypocrites, but was the greatest hypocrite of all because he was trying to gain their favor and beat them at their own game. And that selfloathing radiated from me and determined how I viewed all those around me. Part of that inwardly directed anger stemmed from the fact that I had never truly managed to stick with anything and see it through. Every plan in my life had come to an unfortunate end, either due to shortsightedness on my part or character flaws that simply prevented my being able to conclude it properly. So there I was, having embarked on an endeavor to usurp destiny and see through the role of "hero." Which meant that I was going to have to get the d.a.m.ned princess back to her d.a.m.ned palace. As tempting, then, as it might be to melt into the woods and never be seen again by the eyes of man, the inescapable fact was that I was going to have to retrieve the little shrew from her perch and get her home safely.

"I'm not going to jostle or break loose up here," her voice floated down after a time.

"Oh really? How do you know that?"

"Because I'm stuck," she said with obvious annoyance. "The branches are so thick they're snagged in my hair, my clothes . . . everything. Get up here and cut me free."

My getting too near her with a sharp object probably wasn't the brightest idea. "With all deference, Your Greatness, I'm not exactly built for scaling trees. I'm rather lame of leg, as you must have noticed."