Old Enemies

by Jolene Dawe

Independence. Meredith leaned her head against the wall and fingered the names of the men and women who had sacrificed so much. Dozens of names for the dozens of men and women this town had sacrificed over the years, men and women who had gone off to fight on foreign soil, and for what? To die, alone and afraid, never to see their families again. To return and be scorned, mocked, and ridiculed.

Meredith closed her eyes against the tears that were building, willing them away. They obeyed her far more readily than the throng of people around her did; those wouldn't leave. She could hear them, lined up on the street a yard away, watching the parade pass. Veterans marched by, resplendent in their uniforms. Here, it was something romantic, with clothing neatly pressed, all clean lines and pretty faces. But it wasn't like that. It was never like that. The civilians wanted their show, though, and the soldiers were willing to oblige. Keep them ignorant. Let them keep their false sense of security. Let them think they are the ones sacrificing for their freedom.

Once, a veteran met her eyes as he passed. He was so surprised by the knowing he saw there that he actually missed a step. It was then that she retreated to the wall, to listen to the parade. She would stay here. She would bear witness to the sacrifice they had made, in the past, and to the sacrifice that others were making now, the world over. It didn't matter to her which side of any war they were on. Warriors in any uniform shared a common spirit that set them aside from others in their society. It was a cruel fate: the very thing that separated them from their own kind and created a brotherhood made it impossible for that brotherhood to be all it could be.

She left before the fireworks commenced. She wasn't interested in commemoration of this country any more than she was interested in these people. She picked her way through the crowd, past the gathering of soldiers, and out of town.

Her small portion of the beach was deserted. It always was--people had a habit of forgetting it was there, or not seeing it to begin with. She stood for a long time, at the edge between sand and grass, staring at the waves. Here, she would spend this day that celebrated independence, but she would be mourning, not celebrating. Her independence brought her fear and uncertainty. Her independence stole her own kind from her, making her an outcast in hostile territory. She was an alien, an unwanted refugee, at best. If they knew about her, they would kill her.

Meredith walked as near to the water as she dared to get and sat down. It was torment to be this close to the waves and not enter them, but it would be a greater torment to touch the water. Centuries after the last great war, and still she could taste the death of her kind in the water. One day, she would drop this skin and swim among their destruction, but that day was not today. Today she would sit and hold her vigil. Today she would remember.

"It always brings it back, doesn't it?"

Meredith didn't look up as the male joined her at the water's edge. She didn't need to look to see his face, to see the pain and longing and fear in his black eyes. They were the same, these two, though once they had called each other enemy.

"It does," she agreed.

"The fools. The children. They don't understand at all. I can't stand this day. And I can't escape it."

Meredith remembered the veterans in the parade. "Some of them understand," she argued.

He grunted noncommittally. He held his silence for some time, and they sat, both picking at their mental wounds. The sun set, and the sound of the waves was drowned out by the sound of fireworks in the distance. Meredith wrinkled her nose in distaste. Beside her, her companion snarled. The sound sent shivers down her spine and made her clutch after a spear she hadn't carried in centuries. Her breath caught and she had to force herself to relax. Steady, she urged herself. Steady.

"I can still hear their screams," he said. "Their voices never fade."

She stared hard at the waves. "I can still taste the blood as if it were freshly spilled." She swallowed hard, fighting down the bloodlust that wanted to come forth. She knew without looking that he did the same. The battle-frenzy always courted them, and when they were together it was both easier and harder to deny it its freedom.

"They'll never face what we face." He nodded his head back toward civilization. "They'll never know how lucky they are. At the end of their wars they can go back home."

"Some of them," Meredith agreed. "Many of them won't. The lucky never know how lucky they are, Shard. It's not in their fate to know."

"Fate," he spat. "What good is fate? What use? One cannot know fate until it has come to pass. A useless concept. You've lived among them too long."

Meredith finally looked at him. "And you have not, to have such contempt, such skepticism? Have you forgotten your own diviners, who would read the fate of your kind before it had come to pass? They were legendary, even among my kin."

"If they were so legendary, why did any of you bother to fight? If they could read such fate, why did you not give way to the inevitable?"

"No fate is writ in stone. Nothing is certain, only likely. We were to be slaughtered. We were to roll over and offer our bellies without a fight? Hardly." She spoke to hide her guilt, her shame.

"It did you so much good to fight," he retorted.

So easy, even after all this time, to lose the bond that binds us and to pick up old hurts. Who am I to criticize their lack of understanding? Meredith sighed out her anger. It didn't belong here. It was dead, gone, a thing of the past. It belonged in those waves. It belonged with the blood of her enemies and the bodies of her kin.

"Will you remain here?" he asked, hours later.

It was the close of the age-old ritual, his way of asking if she had the will to continue living. Meredith imagined she heard dread in his tone. If she were to die, he would truly, truly be alone. Perhaps it was her own dread she heard in his words.

"I will," she replied, "remain here a while longer." They pretended that he spoke of this beach, this night, this time.

Without another word he stood and disappeared. She sat for some time, alone, and then she also stood. Her home wasn't far from the beach, a small efficiency she shared only with a houseplant. She let herself in and found her bed just as the sun was rising over the horizon.

He was being followed. It wasn't the first time; some people were drawn to him as moths are drawn to fire. Most of the time it worked out well for him--he wouldn't have to hunt for dinner.

Today it was unwelcome. He wasn't hungry, nor was he in the mood for entertainment. Shard wanted nothing save to be left alone. He wanted his solitude. He coveted it far more than she ever did. The one strength her kind had had over his own--their cohesion. Her desire for solitude these days was a learned habit. For him, it was nature.

The intrusion upon his thoughts angered him. He let the battle-hunger overshadow him, settling upon him like a second skin.

He surprised the girl who was tracking him. She jumped back, screaming, as he landed on her, pinning her to the ground. Around them the heat of the desert danced up from the baked earth, pressing in. He felt the heat rise from under the girl, smelled the mixture of sweat and fear and blood and dirt. It was intoxicating. It was always intoxicating.

Shard couldn’t afford to be intoxicated.

As she lay on her back, the girl's eyes flicked from his to a spot behind him, an involuntary warning. He was too slow. Light exploded behind his eyes and he toppled forward.

The scent of blood pulled him from the darkness. He came to abruptly, screaming and fighting. His arms disobeyed him, staying in place rather than reaching for the nearest person. Shard strained against the chains that held him, but he couldn't break them.

A small group of desert people surrounded him. They didn't speak to him as they tossed kindling at his feet. He snarled when the village elder came forward with the fire, but he could do nothing but watch as his pyre was lit. The fire spread rapidly once it caught. Its heat sizzled on his skin, kissing him and caressing him. He grit his teeth against the pain and set his will. He would die, then, this way. He would die surrounded by dry land, thousands of miles from the sea. His body would burn and be lost.

His last thought, before yawning darkness engulfed him, was of her. She'd been his only ally for far longer than she had been his enemy. Would she mourn him, this year? Would she miss him?

Meredith fell out of her shower, gasping and shaking. Soapy water ran into her eyes, stinging them, while she lay lost in visions on the floor. Heat dried her skin, and then caused it to blister. When she could gather herself once more strode for the door. The air carried on it whispers of his doom. She inhaled, scenting the direction, and then took to the sky.

Wings erupted from her back as she jumped, and for a moment she thought they wouldn't support her, so long had they gone unused. She grit her teeth, pumped the wings harder, and forced her body higher. She flew against the day. It would have been faster to swim, but he was landlocked, burning against the sand. Soon, he would be burning for real. She had to reach him.

There!

She descended upon the people with a battle cry. They stumbled away from her. She ignored them, diving into the fire and pulling him free. She smothered the flames on his skin with her own body. The fire hadn't held him long. He wasn't dead. He would recover, assuming she could get them away. She couldn't carry him and fly for any real distance.

The desert folk returned while she sat, surrounding them both. They brandished tools as weapons--shovels, butcher knives, whatever they had on hand. Some held torches. Meredith felt as if they had been thrown back in time. This was like a lynch mob of old. She settled her gaze on the fire and quirked a smile. Her muscles hummed. Her blood sang. Her hearing grew acute and her mouth salivated. Adrenaline coursed through her, giving life to feelings long buried. The wings on her back furled and retracted into her back, retreating from harm's way. Meredith moved so that she stood over Shard, protecting his body with her own. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, she thought sardonically, and dipped into a defensive crouch.

If they had been smart, they would have rushed her, but fear held them at bay. They knew what Shard was, or at least, knew enough to not be paralyzed by fear. They hadn't counted on him being rescued. They hadn't counted on her dropping out of the sky. They didn't know what to make of her. She was fine with that.

The first one came, trying to use his shovel as a spear. She grabbed the shovel end, snapped it from his grip, and broke it in half. Before he could duck away she wrapped her hands around his head and twisted his neck. The second one came faster, rushing her with a torch. Fire touched her skin and guttered out. The desert-dweller swung the torch at her head like a club. It connected just as she connected with his throat, and the pain that exploded in her head was soothed by the flow of blood over her skin. Her pores drank the liquid greedily. Meredith shook her vision clear and crouched again.

This time fear propelled them. Now they did all come at once, and she danced in the middle of them, letting instinct take over as she hadn't in centuries. Men and women fell before her, some dead, some dying, all doomed. She became aware of laughter before long and a part of her was chilled by the sound, but mostly she was delighted. Blood and bone and bile surrounded her, and she was lost to the frenzy.

When it was over, when no more people came to defy her, she stood, suddenly still. Her skin was slick with bodily fluids, her hair and body saturated with blood. Meredith tilted her head back and inhaled the night air. She opened her eyes wide to gaze up at the sky, but in her mind she had been transported back, to the last battle, to the last time she had let go this much.

The fight had been taken out to sea, to save the land. It was the last rush, the last ruse. Both sides had suffered greatly. He had come for the Prince, and she was the Prince's last guardian. Their warriors battled one another, and in the end, after the Prince had fallen, it had been Meredith and Shard staring at each other, blood-soaked, gorged on death. They realized at the same time what they had done. They had looked around the battlefield, at their fallen comrades, at their fallen kin, and the battle-rage had seeped out of them both. The two of them, their kin's most deadly warriors, had destroyed their enemy, down to one last man.

Without speaking, they had gone their separate ways, and for decades Meredith hadn't seen him again, until one day, he had shown up to sit vigil with her.

Meredith came back to the desert. Dawn was coming. He needed cool shelter and rest. He needed food. He was alone in the world, save for her, and he was not going to go out this way.

Meredith lifted him over her shoulder and made her way to the tents of his would-be killers. She tucked him out of reach of the sun, and then, body by body, she brought the villagers to him. When he awoke, he would find the sustenance he needed in order to heal. No one would disturb him--there were no more people around for miles, and no natural predator would dare enter his territory.

Confident of his safety, Meredith left him.

The beach was empty when she reached it. Meredith sat at the edge of the water, watching the sun set. He came with the night, moving with the grace of any hunter. Meredith didn't turn as he approached, and she didn't speak as he joined her in the sand. Fireworks lit up the night sky miles away, and if she turned her head, Meredith could see the flashes of color.

"Independence can be over-rated," Shard offered.

Meredith nodded in agreement and turned her gaze back out to the sea. They sat that way, the last two of beings time had forgotten, long after the celebrations had ended. As dawn approached, Shard stood, brushed sand from his pants, and looked down at her.

"Will you remain here?" he asked her.

Meredith kept her eyes on the waves. "I will remain here a while longer, yet," she answered. "Will you?" she asked, turning to meet his gaze.

He nodded once. "I will," he assured her.

Her lips quirked into a smile. It felt unfamiliar on her face. "Good," she said. "Fare well."

"And you," he said.

Without another word he left. She sat for some time, alone, and then stood herself. Her home wasn't far from the beach. She let herself in and found her bed just as the sun was rising over the horizon.