Fugitives of Chaos

and a pillar bearing the names of local townsmen who died in the Great War. They had put a statue of an angel up recently; at least I did not remember seeing it there before, tall atop the pillar. They had painted it for Christmas, blue and white. I was still at least a quarter mile from the church…

Wait a minute. Why was I going toward the church? If that was where all the townspeople were, (a) I might be putting them in danger, (b) they might call the coppers on me, just as Jerry had done. This was the worst direction of all to be going.

I stopped at the carriage circle, blowing puffs of white and looking left and right. There were lanes running north and south.

The angel on the pillar turned his head, spread his peacock-blue wings, raised his bow. There was an arrow in the string.

'Phaethusa, Helion's daughter, I make it fated that you will be struck by this shaft if you do not surrender to me. I am Corus. I am the North by Northwest Wind, a humble god, perhaps, for only one-sixteenth part of the infinite sky is mine; but I am great enough to wound you.'

I stood with one hand on my knee, bird in the other, blowing white puffs. I shook my head. 'No. No, thanks. I'm sick and tired of surrendering.'

He said, 'Do you toy with me, Chaoticist?'

'Lord Mavors said you can't kill us! How are you going to stop me if you don't risk killing me!'

'I make it fated that you shall not die when my arrow strikes. With such a fate, I may strike your eye with no fear the shaft will enter your brain-pan, or hit your thigh, hand, bosom, marring and maiming, as I will.'

I straightened up, and held up the wounded eagle in both hands. 'Look out! I've got a magic bird… this bird will save me! And I am not a monster or anything. I'm just a girl with a monster's powers, and I've never done anything wrong, so I don't want you to shoot me.'

Sam came trotting into the carriage circle, slowed down, and walked up. His mouth and eyes were wide.

'Hey! Are yew an angel? Don't point that thing at the girl here. She's touched in the head!'

Corus said, 'Creature of Prometheus, go, and I will spare you. I make it fated that when you wake after you have slept, this will fade like a strange dream. If you speak of it this day, you will not be believed, even by those that love you…'

'Is my wife up there with yew all? Second wife, Annie, I mean…'

'Go!'

He turned the arrow toward Sam.

Sam set his jaw and looked stubborn.

I said, 'Um, Sam, maybe you should…'

The bowstring sang.

I jumped in front of Sam and threw out my arms. The eagle, released, flapped and jumped in front of me.

The eagle moved faster than was possible, as if he were trying to bat the speeding arrow out of midair with his wing. The arrow passed through the one wing, lost all velocity, turned sideways, and slapped against me before it clattered to the pavement.

The eagle screamed, loud, shrill, and piercing. There was an answering scream from far away. I am not an expert on bird screams, but I am pretty sure that second scream was one I had heard earlier today.

The eagle flapped to the ground and began poking at his newly rewounded wing.

Corus looked down, frowning. Then he put his foot to the bowstaff, bent, and unstrung his bow. 'I release you,' he said.

'What?' Had I heard that right?

Coras spoke quietly, his eyes downcast, 'Little softhearted girl with the powers of a monster, who steps in front of our cattle, the frail and foolish mortal men, go and be free. On one condition, I release you.'

'What's the condition?'

'That you tell no one of my dereliction.'

'I want to be able to tell my friends.'

'Only on their oath likewise, not to reveal this act.'

'Won't Boggin just hear what you are saying now? He can hear the wind.'

'I am the wind.'

'I will agree… But! But I have one condition…'

That made him smile. He put his hands atop the bow-staff and leaned on it. 'You are just as bold as brass, aren't you, little foe of all creation?'

'You have to tell me why. Why you are doing it?'

Coras frowned again.

Sam pointed upward with his fork, and said to me, 'Yew know him, do yew?'

Coras glowered at Sam and waved his hand. 'I make it fated that you will sleep before I speak this word.'

Sam sat down on the cobblestones, blinked, slumped slowly over, snoring. His fork clattered to the pavement with a tiny tinkle.

'You didn't hurt him, did you? Is he going to be all right?'

The eagle twisted around his head and squawked at me angrily. Well, maybe the bird had a point. He had been