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Stories / Stories / S. ´Silvestris´ Strand / Text 5 of 6 / Power of Goodbye

"Power of Goodbye" by S. ´Silvestris´ Strand

SF&F Picture 5 out of 6 by S. ´Silvestris´ Strand

The rivalry between Crow and Kitsune finally reaches a point of no return, where only one of them will walk away alive. Much drama. Much angst. I don't like killing off my beloved characters, so when I do I feel the compulsion to at least write them impressive farewell-scenes...

Illustration diecrow1.jpg for Power of Goodbye

Silence spread between them, and he knew he had betrayed himself. His mind raced, he desperately tried to think of something to say, something to do that might miraculously save the situation. He found nothing.
“ So…” Crow breathed, “ You really are the traitor-prince…”
He laughed, that sweet silvery laugh that clashed so with his arrogant, drawling voice.
“ Should I be surprised? I suppose not. To think I have bedded a prince! What an honor…”
Kitsune stood straight and proud, but felt cold inside, sick with fear. All these years, how he’d dreaded the discovery of the truth… And now his most bitter adversary held his greatest secret in his hands.

“ Now,” Crow mused, “ What should I do..? I should think information of the prince’s whereabouts would be worth quite a lot to Ku’Ombos… Certainly worth riches enough to help a dock-rat leave the Floating City; perhaps even to re-enter the higher levels of Machra-la..? Perhaps enough to buy the higher levels of Machra-la..?”
He laughed happily again, the sound sweet as honey.

“ What makes you think Ku’Ombos would ever listen to the word of a cheap little prostitute..?”
Kitsune was relieved to hear that his voice barely shook at all.
“ Oh, I’m sure they would listen, once I mentioned the name ‘Maqaxha’, don’t you think..? I understand you are all but legendary in your homeland, foxling; that was a very, very bad thing you did, for them to still have such a high price on your head.”
There was a satisfied smirk in the voice, Crow was enjoying himself thoroughly. Kitsune forced himself not to shudder. If they found him… Would they bring him back to Ku’Ombos..? Would he be allowed to walk up the Stairs to meet the Sun like a prince of the blood, or would he be sent to the pits to rot away, far from the blessed sunlight? Or would they not bother at all, just have him sent to the Machra-la Arena, to be raped and tortured and torn to pieces before the bloodthirsty, cheering crowd?
He felt nauseous, cold sweat dampened his palms.
“ Don’t tell…”
His voice was soft, but there was a hateful desperate tinge to it.
“ Please, Crow, please… Don’t tell anyone…”
So he would beg. Prince Maqaxha would never have begged… But prince Maqaxha was long dead. Kitsune was used to begging. It was one of the least appalling things he was forced to do while on his knees…

There was a whisper of cheap silk as the other courtesan moved closer. His drawl was mocking, all too sweet.
“ What reasons have I not to..? My chance for success, wealth and power has been handed to me on a silver plate, and you ask me to turn it down..? What in the world could you offer me for my silence..?”
He stood silent, knowing there was nothing he could say. He had nothing to offer. Not even the cheap brass bracelets and worn robes he wore belonged to him; the day he was gone, another lowly slave would wear them. Probably his name as well. He had nothing.

“ Come here, foxling.”
Crow’s silky voice was low and soft, reminded him of another night, a full year ago, when that velvety voice had whispered sweet things into his ear all night, and those slender hands…
Obediently he moved closer, closed the gap between them, until he stood quiet with his head bowed in front of his rival.

If he could make the man lower his guard, if only for a moment… He reached out, carefully, and took Crow’s slender hand. Holding it softly between his hands he brought it to his lips, pressing the lightest of kisses against his knuckles.
“ Please…” he mumbled again, subservience and unspoken promises making his quiet voice husky. There was silence; he could all but feel the younger man’s gaze slide languidly over his body.
“ You are a cheap little whore, Kitsune.”
The other’s voice was soft, merely pointing out a fact.
“ Were you to pay me with your services it would take you a lifetime.”
A hand ran through his hair, an outstretched thumb grazing his lips.
“ Hadn’t you better get started..?”
He almost raised his eyebrows then, barely able to hide his surprise. The foolish boy was really careless enough to let him close, even after those threats mere moments ago? Well, if he wanted to play games…

He melted against the other man’s slight frame, caressed the smooth skin of the unscarred right cheek lightly as a feather. He murmured quiet words of humble gratitude into Crow’s ear, playing the part of a pardoned prisoner to perfection. The young man’s silky hair was so very soft under his hands as he filtered it through his fingers, cupping the perfect face to lean in for a kiss.

***

He held the slight figure close, covered his face with burning kisses. Crow’s spicy perfume was intoxicating, and for the briefest moment he was tempted to give in, allow this to happen, allow it all to happen. The other man whispered softly into his ear, and he shivered as those hot lips grazed his earlobe.
“ Whom do you belong to, foxling..?”
There were hands playing with his hair now, as his own were obediently exploring every inch of the other’s small, perfect body.
“ You.”
His voice was muffled, the subservient admission mumbled into the younger courtesan’s silky hair. Crow raised a delicate but strong hand, held his chin gently but possessively; he could feel the young ititshi’s eyes on his face.
“ Say it, Kitsune. I want to hear you say those words.”
So soft that voice, barely a whisper, a breath, and yet so forceful.
“ You. I belong to you. I am yours.”
The bitter taste of those words was replaced by the sweetness of passionate lips meeting his in a deep and hungry kiss.

He wrapped his arms around the shorter man, held him close, let his hands play with that soft hair. Crow let out a faint moan, moved closer still, and there was such hunger to his kisses, a craving close to desperation.
He followed his rival’s every move, obeyed every command long before the need for clumsy words arose, used every bit of skill and hard-won experience he had acquired during his years of slavery, used it all to please.
Crow sighed, and he felt the feathery touch of eye-lashes brushing against his cheek as the young man melted against him and for a second closed his eyes.
And he moved.

Blind he may be, and weakened, but he was close enough it didn’t matter. He struck, hard, and heard a sickening crack as the other man’s neck snapped. Crow gasped and collapsed in his arms; still alive, but barely. Broken. Paralyzed.

***
“ You’ve killed me…”
The courtesan’s faint whisper was filled with utter disbelief, his broken voice that of a betrayed child. Kitsune straightened, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand in disgust, and took a dignified step back from the crumpled heap at his feet. His voice was harsh as he addressed his tormentor, every syllable cold and sharp like shattered icicles.
“ That was the last time you humiliated me, scavenger.”
He was surprised to hear a muffled sob; the cool, collected young courtesan seemed to have lost his iron self-control at last.
“ Kitsune…”
Barely a breath, not even a whisper. Pleading.
He turned away.

Crow was dead; they both knew it. No healer could help him now, wouldn’t have done so even if they could. Another dock-rat gone. Who’d care? By now it was only a matter of time.
He stood quiet for a moment, then turned back, knelt fastidiously by his adversary’s side. When he spoke, his voice was mockingly soft, yet savage with long restrained bitterness.

“ It’s over, Crow. You should have left me alone, as I advised you that first day.”
He disdainfully stroked a fingertip over the young man’s face; it came away moist with smeared make-up, silent tears.
“ Kitsune…”
The defeated voice seemed strangely lost and lonely. For the briefest moment he almost allowed himself regret, then ruthlessly steeled himself. One of them had been doomed from the moment Crow uncovered his secret. It was that simple. The man was his enemy; had been since the very first time they met.
And he wasn’t likely to forget. Forget all the shame-filled mornings of anguish after the long, dark nights, and the ever-present sordid remarks… Forget that snide, haughty voice crushing what little dignity he had left.
Nor that one night of utter humiliation…
He clenched his teeth.

All evidence of what had just taken place must be destroyed, or he was every bit as doomed as the dying whore beside him. He braced himself and collected his enemy’s limp body into his arms, somewhat surprised at how light it was. Crow had always seemed so untouchable, so in control, he’d never really thought about how small the man really was. He had only ever been this close once before, on that one humiliating night. That time when Crow had casually disregarded all unspoken rules of their world, and bought himself a night with another courtesan. To shut him up. To flaunt his supremacy.
Because he could.

***
The early morning was quiet, the air mild and moist. Distant sounds of the city were hushed further by the thin mists, a ghostly echo of another world entirely. Kitsune held his adversary mockingly close, murmured spitefully into his ear.
“Almost like that night we shared, so long ago… Do you remember? It was I who was helpless then. Did you have fun? Did you enjoy mocking me, humiliating me? I haven’t forgotten.”
He tugged viciously at the other’s hair, heard him gasp with pain as his head was jerked back.
“ A certain justice to this, then.”

He had expected sullen silence, perhaps even sly, silky begging. He hadn’t expected warm tears dripping from the young man’s cheeks onto his hands.
Nor the anguish in that ruined whisper of a voice.
“ Mocking..? Humiliating you..? I never… That is not what I… Is that what you thought? All this time..?”
A tremor of pain, or maybe fear made the figure in his arms shudder, and he despised himself for the treacherous feeling of cold, sudden doubt deep in his gut. His voice was harsher than intended as he snapped back.
“ What are you talking about?”
Crow sobbed, somehow appearing younger and more vulnerable than ever. His words were so distorted and muffled they were almost inaudible.
“ I never meant to hurt you… That’s not why I… I only… I…”
Insecurity made him angry, and he gave the boy a rough shake, wrenching a strangled gasp of agony from the tear-stained lips.
“ What?”
Crow shivered, and Kitsune realized his brutal grip probably bruised those delicate shoulders. Not that it matted now… Somehow distracted by the irrelevant thought he almost missed the hushed words.
“ I loved you…”
He blinked in utter surprise, then frowned dangerously.
“ Oh, really... That’s cheap. Even for you.”
Crow said nothing, lay still, helpless in his arms. Another burning tear splashed onto his hands. He shook his head in incredulous contempt.
“ So, tell me, is that why you’ve treated me like dirt since the first time we met..? All these mornings of tormenting and harassing me; is that your idea of love?”
Once again savage, even angrier now.
“ Is that why you bought me..?”
He gave the courtesan’s shoulders another rough shake, both pervertedly pleased and ashamed at the resulting stifled outcry.

'The body felt so lifeless in his arms that, for a moment, he thought this final act of violence had actually killed the young man. Then he became aware of the quiet sound of labored breathing, feeble sobs.
“ I didn’t know what else to do…”
He could barely make out the breathed words.
“ You never wanted anything to do with me… I didn’t know how else to make you see me, acknowledge me… Gods, you thought I did it to hurt you?”
There was such helpless despair in those sobs, making it very difficult to stubbornly shut out an unwelcome, bitter truth.
“ So why didn’t you ever tell me..?”
His own voice was very tense now, quiet and ominous. Still far from convinced. Crow lay limp in his arms, weak, dying, and it was hard to say why it all even mattered anymore. But somehow it did…
The courtesan’s voice was composed but tinged with hopelessness as he whispered his answer.
“ I knew how much you hated me. If you had known… The loathing on your face if I had told you the truth… ”
The boy had started crying again, dejected tears trickling down his cheeks. Kitsune cradled him unconsciously, not quite sure when his rough grip had somehow turned more gentle.
This was not what he had expected. Not what he had expected at all.
“ I wish I had known.”
His voice sounded strange to his ears, tired, more aged. Even dispirited, sad.

Crow was silent; the boy’s head rested against his chest, the small body limp like a discarded rag doll. He still cried, but silently, as if the last of his strength was spent. It felt bitter, this victory. Hollow. Maybe not quite what he’d wanted after all.

***
Still, he was left with no choice. They had reached a point of no return; probably passed it long ago. As long as Crow was alive he could drag him down with him. He couldn’t let the unexpected events of this misty morning claim more lives than one.
He stood, the small body still cradled in his arms, and carefully made his way towards the water. Guided by the soft whisper of waves lapping against the raft he knelt at the very edge, felt the droplets of spray against his knees. The cool tendrils of mist wrapped around them in the unearthly silent morning.
Crow had stopped crying, only breathed fast and fretfully, drawing in gulps of air, bracing himself now for what was to come.
Only once before had he taken another’s life with his own hands. Inexplicably this was more difficult, and a detached part of him laughed insanely at the thought. Harder to kill his hated rival and enemy than his own father!

He held Crow close, feeling somehow he owed him that at least. Ever softly he leaned forward; the boy’s lips were warm and moist with tears, tasted bitterly of salt. He didn’t know how long he crouched there, frozen in that final embrace. Time was no longer important.
Slowly the small courtesan seemed to regain his self-control, slowed his nervous breathing, preparing himself for the inevitable.
There was really nothing more to say. Words were empty, flat; what did you say, after all, to the one who had loved you and whose life you were about to take?

With a tenderness he had not known himself capable of, he slowly let go, let the limp body in his arms glide into the cool water. The quiet waves whispered around them, the melodious sound deceivingly innocent and soothing.
Crow said nothing, only gasped once as the chilly water touched his face, couldn’t move even had he wanted to.
It felt unfair, bitter, hurt more than he thought it would as he finally grabbed a handful of that silky hair and plunged his arm deep into the water.
Not a sound was heard, beside the all-too-calm murmur of the water. Small bubbles tickled against the skin of his hand and wrist, sought their way to the surface. He could feel the mortal fear, the throbs of raw anguish radiating from the dying man into his hand, and he shuddered.

He remained kneeling there for a long time, long after the water became quiet and no more bubbles broke the surface. He felt paralyzed himself, dazed, and it took all his strength to force his fingers open, to let go. A last caress of silky hair grazed his hand as the courtesan’s body sank into the depths and he shivered, suddenly wanting never to touch the deadly waters again.

He somehow managed to get to his feet, moving like a sleepwalker. He passed the curtains into the small shed, grateful that it was empty. The look on his face right now would surely have betrayed him. He curled up on his worn blanket, wanting only to forget, forget everything that had just taken place.
He could still taste Crow’s tears on his lips, and he curled up even tighter. His ruined eyes ached, stung with unshed tears, but he dared not cry lest his master might suspect what was wrong.
He could still hear the smug purring of the hungry waves from outside; knew he would remember the sound forever.

By the time Dagger had snuffed out the red lanterns out front and come inside, his blind courtesan was already asleep, tossing restlessly in his slumber. The sun was rising in the rosy sky, chasing away the mists of the night, bathing the world in pale golden light.
And the gentle waves cradled the Floating City of Machra-la like a loving mother, rocking all its children to sleep.

All the characters, places and plots described on these pages are © Sara Strand 1997-2004. They may not be used by anyone else, in any way, without my written permission. All artwork also © Sara Strand.
To find out more more about my world and characters, visit www.silvestris.net/pangaea.

←- First Meeting | Farewell Maqaxha -→

Date	Name	Comment
9 Feb 2004	Kayla L Stearns	Loading... I managed not to cry. But I almost did, I dont quite understand this story. Though it made me sad. Great job on this.
18 Feb 2004	Rachel Lynne Lane	Loading... Beyond saying this is amazing I don't think there is anything else I can say. I'll be honest I was tearing up. This was so powerful! Phenomenal job.
12 Apr 2004	Rebecca Cameron	Loading... I almost cried. Really. Almost NOTHING in stories can make me cry. When they kill off the main character that they have been following for the whole book, I go "meh". And then YOU come along and write this, and I almost cry over characters that I only know in passing... Jeez! The last time I cried over a book was 'Brightly Burning' by Mercedes Lackey. Great gallery, by the way. I love your style, especially the way you do hair.
21 Sep 2004	E. Helen Wallace	Loading... This is by far and away the best story I've read here on Elfwood- hell, it's quite possibly one of the best snippets I've EVER read. I really don't know what to say. It's perfect, and perfectly heartbreaking. Thank you sharing it with me.
25 Nov 2004	Katie	Loading... It was such an entraining, sad story. The idea for your story was very original and I think you are excellent writer. You have the hidden power.
27 Nov 2005	Esther S. Brendel (Maiden name: Esther S. Wetzel)	Loading... I don't usually read stories in Elfwood, but I was curious about how you write long since I came across one of your pangea-illustrations the first time. Just now I discovered, that you have put up some stories, and even though I have to finish my thesis next week and shouldn't be hanging around in Elfwood, this story of yours grabbed me and didn't let go until I finished reading it. This is what good stories are all about, isn't it? I admire your skill of storytelling! Without going into details I just want to let your know: This one was breathtaking! And even more I admire your guts for writing in English, a thing I couldn't even think of. I have written a huge fantasy novel within about twelve years myself, but I did it in my mother tongue. And still I feel that I could learn thousands of things from you. Hopefully, you'll have that whole pangea story written down someday. It probably would become a "must-read" for any fan of intense fantasy literature!
14 Mar 2006	Anni L. K. Mändmets	Loading... You are just...wow...amazingly written! Very emotional! Keep up the superb work! Your stories are unbelievably great!
17 Aug 2006	Aubrey 'Toshiko' Walters	Loading... At first I thought I might actually not cry, but I couldn't help it, no being deserves to die that way. It was really touching a so full of emotions, if only Crow hadn't found out Kitsune's secret and had told him how he felt. What I think really pushed me to cry was how Crow's Unrequited love reminded me of one of my most bitter storied characters tears Before I had read any of your stories I saw a fan picture done by Jonna 'lynx' Lylykangas of Crow which really compelled me to read this and your other parts of Pangaea.
24 May 2008	Lea	Loading... I cried. Crow has been through so much and his life just seemed to keep going downhill, and to top it all off he get’s killed by the one he held secretly in his heart. There was no way to undo what had already been done, and it was unfair. He’s one of those bitter characters that you can’t help but feel sorry for, and it really stings when he dies.
29 Jun 2008	Amanda Seely	Loading... That was amazing sniffle sniffle, I almost cried. That was expertly written I enjoyed it from start to finish!
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