In the end, as was often the case in many situations, Nixon decided better the Devil he knew than risk further exposure to an enemy that could strike without being seen. He knew that somewhere there was someone who could help him. Even if his legions of followers and helpers had finally faded away, some things were constant. He could think of one or two people, defiers of time and Embracers of the Power, who may still be his friends. He hoped nothing had happened to them. One person in particular was almost certainly still around, regardless of Ryu’s actions in the Third Fall of Man.
Love was one thing that could stand against even madness, be it centuries old or not.
He would set off for Tan Torna Qu-ay, see what he could see, and either be done with this whole damn thing (Please God, let it be so!) or see if the chase was on yet again, at which point he’d attempt to track her down.
He braced himself, focused his mind, and allowed the power and the fire to emerge from within. The heat built up as he focused deeper and deeper. At last, flames surrounded him, first wild and uncontrolled but eventually gathering form and substance around him. The flames settled behind him as giant wings. Fierce and beautiful in their perfection, they glowed hot and ready like the master they served.
Nixon knew this form well, and it only required one mighty push from the wings for him to take off like a shot, sparks trailing behind him as he went, glowing embers adrift in the fading night. Nothing but scorched earth and desolation remained as the sun began to rise in the east, signaling the beginning of a new day.
-----------------------
Aryu awoke with a sick feeling as the sun began to rise. An unfortunate side effect of his repeated blows to the head the night before, he wagered.
He was impressed by how well his wings had kept him comfortable. He’d not felt a nip of cold that he could recall.
He unrolled himself slowly, knowing he was likely still wounded from the fall. He found his shoulder was still tender, and his cuts and scrapes still stung, but his legs and arms seemed no worse for wear and that was as good a result as any.
He slung his treasured find to his back, spreading his wings wide and inspecting them. “Not a scratch,” he said aloud, grinning like a fool as he spoke. All that tossing through rock and thorn and not a rip or wound could be found. He gave them a few powerful test flaps to make sure all the mechanics were in working order. The motion upset his stomach more, and it did no favors for his questionable left shoulder, but otherwise, he seemed fine.
He salvaged what little he could, drank the last of the water he had carried, and attached the water skin to his side. With a slow run and then a rush off a nearby depression, he was back to the air, slowly gaining what height he could in the early morning updrafts to inspect his surroundings.
It was close to home. He knew the area he was in, near the north end of the Valley of Smoke. Not only had he made it closer than he believed possible, but he had actually overshot the Valley somewhat, heading back out into the open drylands that stretched out in both directions. Either Rider Stroan was off on his directions or Aryu was even faster in the air than he had thought. No matter the answer, the most important point was that he was only a half-day from home. An excellent result.
He circled around, looking northwest again, straining his eyes to see fire or destruction. Any sign that something big was brewing again. He couldn’t see a thing; the horizon a thin wavy line in the distance south, and the peaks of the Great Range north. The morning was warm and clear, with no sign of the rains from the previous day.
He hoped Johan was alive and alright.
He still questioned the choice he made the night before to go on, but his faith in his best friend seemed to help reinforce his resolve to keep going home.
Aryu never really had time for faith. Beyond the natural feelings about his cruel physical jokes (though this morning they weren’t quite as much of a burden as they were at this same time yesterday) he had simply never subscribed to the grandiose notions of divinity. The truth of God’s existence was not in question. Even after so many thousands of years, His mark on the world was left quite effectively. It’d likely be another few millennia before such destruction was forgotten.
Where Aryu lost his faith was in the belief that God gave one fat damn about this land, this planet, or the people that dwelled on it. Since he was certain He did not (Correctly so, it should be noted. God no longer lived here, and as such, did not care about anything anymore), he felt it was a waste to believe in anything at all. Science was gone, the Power was gone. All that was, he saw, and that’s what he believed in. Tactile feelings versus useless emotions.
Mankind is a fickle thing though. Some part of him still believed. Why else would a man born with wings have this chance to rush home when a man without would be days away and unable to help? The paradox, which has shaped mankind for ages, was still alive and well. As far as faith and divinity go, always keep your options open. Now more than ever Aryu knew the master plan for him in this world was far bigger than Tan Torna Qu-ay. He just had to find it.
Off he went, warm sun shining down as he flew. No thought but
