Wings of the Gray Swallow
by Patrick Hurley
The gray swallow rode the wind over wood and stream until it grew tired. It landed softly on the bare branch of a withered tree that stood alone in the midst of a smoking field.
It took no notice of the red-haired shieldmaiden clad in gleaming mail who lay face down in the mud, a shattered sword still clenched in one hand.
It paid no attention to the heap of smoldering obsidian armor sprawled out on the ground before the fallen shieldmaiden, arrayed as though it had once contained a giant's body, impaled by a glittering shard from the shieldmaiden’s blade.
The gray swallow only had eyes for the tiny gnat that crept across the packed earth. The wind picked up, shaking the tree's bare branches, rustling the few blades of grass that remained in the mud, ruffling the shieldmaiden’s scarlet locks.
The gray swallow waited until the wind stilled and its perch grew steady, then glided down and took the gnat on the wing before landing on the mud to feed.
Nothing else stirred on the field as the gray swallow ate the thrashing gnat. Even the vultures and crows who'd followed the battle in anticipation of a gluttonous feast lay dead on the ground, as if blasted from the air by some unseen force. Though the clouds above looked heavy and black, the rain had not yet fallen to wash the ground clean.
Once finished with its meal, the gray swallow hopped along the ground, ready to ride the wind again in search of more food. Then it fell utterly still, as if sculpted from stone. After a moment, it shuddered and turned back toward the fallen shieldmaiden.
The gray swallow studied her, twitched, then examined the empty obsidian armor as well. Strange gold flecks twinkled in the gray swallow's dark eyes as it hopped over and landed right in front of the woman, half buried in the mud.
Rain began to softly fall. Tap, tap, tap, it rang against the hollow pieces of armor, thicker against the earth, splattering against the dead warrior’s face.
Long did the gray swallow watch the fallen warrior with the scarlet hair. It trembled, then nestled its tiny head against her cool cheek. It tweeted thrice and began to chirp a wordless song.
After a time, the gray swallow twitched and sang no longer. It stared up at the sky, as if confused. Then it took to the wind once more, to ride the sky over wood and stream.
Far away, atop a tall tower in a marble-white city, the elani knight opened their eyes. They were silver pools, flecked with gold.
They sat amidst a host of mortal men and women who watched them with grave intent.
"Well, ser?" one of them finally dared to ask.
The elani knight stared at these gathered men and women for a long while.
"It worked," they finally said. "She won."
The gathered men and women cheered. They began to talk amongst themselves, to make plans, take actions they should have taken long before it had come to this. The elani knight watched them for a time then stalked out from the tower chamber, only stopping once they reached a balcony overlooking the marble city.
A soft cry escaped their lips. They gripped the ivory railing as if to keep from falling. Tears fell from their gold-flecked eyes, tears the swallow’s eyes had been unable to produce.
They’d always known this day would come. They were a knight of the Summerlands, and she was mortal. Their love had been doomed from the start, but they’d never believed that the doom would fall so quickly. The knight should have faced the Blightmaker. They should be lying dead on that barren field… but she had always been better with a blade.
A soft rain began to fall. As the elani knight stared out into the evening dusk and listened to the city celebrate her victory, they wished, for just a moment, they could join with the gray swallow again and bury themself within its simple mind and soar free, the wind beneath its wings, the sadness of the mortal world below forgotten.
