Chains

The Jadje festival was over; it was time for the Masters to prove that they were still in control. Mother Katherine, a dark haired, pale skinned woman of power, surveyed her reflection in the mirror. Cool jade eyes showed little expression, as she looked down at the invitation that she had received. Slender fingers picked up the envelope and removed the simple, thick card: "cordially invited…" she read with a sneer before she threw it down, away from her. She sighed, she hated the days after the Jadje Festival.

She pulled a long white shawl from her closet and draped it over her thin shoulders. She left her hair down and over her shoulders and walked quickly from her room. She paused in the hallway as her young protégé, a handsome Phoenix, stood waiting for her. "Trovatelli," she whispered, as she rose on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, smoothing away the mark she left with her thumb, "thank you for coming with me tonight."

The quiet, darkly dressed, man nodded, "anything for you, Mother Superior," he whispered. His golden eyes were hard, focused away from her. A woman, also dressed in white, stood behind him, her head slightly lowered so that it was not raised above the Mother Superior's. She was the one that he protected. He looked at her carefully before he looked back to the woman who had asked for their company, "I do not know if you should have extended the invitation to Elisabella."

Katherine saw the woman flinch slightly, her soft face falling dejected. "I think that she has the right to see Aigues Mortes," she spoke softly, but strongly, to the Phoenix. "By your word," she swore quietly, "you are the one that brought her here. You cannot keep her in a gilded cage."

"Iryn," the young woman said as she stepped forward and laid her hand on the tall Phoenix's arm, "if you do not want me to go, I can stay here."

"Ah," he shook his head, "no, Mother Superior requested that we both join her. It would be impolite to have you stay here."

"But if you do not want—"

"We are going," the Phoenix cut in smoothly. He gathered her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders before he extended his arm to her. He leveled a dark look at Katherine before he walked out behind her, allowing the woman's protector, a young female Vai'Raith named Ciel, to move in front of him. He paused for a moment at the somber ceremony that was moving down the street.

Elisabella stopped next to him, confused at the sight of the darkly clad forms, all walking beside a figure dressed in white. "Iryn, what is this?" she asked softly, the sound of her voice carrying further across the silent ceremony.

Iryn looked over the crowd before he walked behind the Mother Superior again. "It is the Aviary Ceremony," he said.

She caught the anger in his tone but pressed forward, his answer not clarifying her confusion, "but what is going on? You're part of the Aviary species, is it in honor of your kind?"
A tic worked in his jaw as they walked along, "no."

She quieted, not the time to ask questions and find the answers. They walked a few blocks, every few households a darkly dressed figure came out with a person dressed in white. They took their place in the crowd and it continued on. Entire families left their houses dressed in white, but it was always only one figure dressed in black that walked with them. Children ran along and laughed, catching the hand of one figure after another, the only joyous sound.

One child dressed in white fell down in front of Elisabella, the young woman bent to help her stand when Iryn moved in front of her, hissing darkly as another dark figure stepped in front of the child. Her hands folded in her Protector's shirt until the other picked up the child and swept her back to her parents.

"What did I do?"

"You came too close to his Charge," Iryn explained, the tension not leaving his body as he put his hand on her lower back and moved her along, "so many people, pressed so close together puts us on edge."

Elisabella craned her neck, watching as the figure tried to give the child back to her parents, only to have the child cling tight to his neck. "Was he a Phoenix?" she asked, "I thought that only your family…"

"There are more Phoenixes than the Lladimieriav branch," he muttered, giving his father's surname, a name that he refused to take, as did most of his brothers, still he was known by his father's name, not by the one that he was given when he was found by the Mother Superior. "The one that is with the child, he is the Yiidaln branch."

"How many branches are there?"

"A lot."

"Oh…" she quieted again, biting down on her lower lip. "Iryn, are you all right?" she pressed finally. "You are not acting like yourself." She shivered as the lights in the streets went out, the only sound was footsteps over the rough cobblestones.

He looked to answer, but Katherine put a hand on his arm.

"He is not permitted to speak, Rhyia," Katherine explained softly. "It could get him in trouble," she stressed quietly, waiting for the woman to quiet again as they arrived at the town square. The line parted as Katherine walked through it. Ciel, Iryn and Elisabella followed after. They were first allowed into the large, elaborately furnished, concert hall. They ascended the stairs, Elisabella given no time to stop and take in the intricate woodwork, the soft carpeted forms or the marble angels that stood as a testament of time. She caught one word on one of the Angel's plaque: Carrarbas.

Her head swam as she was seated to the right of the Mother Superior, the woman's hand resting lightly on hers. The woman's face burned as people looked her way, as one by one the people dressed in white took their seats, the figures in black stood behind them. The seats were situated in such a way that each figure was staggered so that the only view that they blocked with another dark figure behind them. The floor was tiered, staggered like stairs so that each person had a view of the large, plain, stage.

She looked back, seeing Iryn standing behind her chair, his hands resting on the back. She twisted back around; it was not like the Jadje festival. That festival, despite its derogatory meaning, was one full of laughter. The Aviarys moved through the crowds with purpose, they sold their arts, their wares, they relaxed without chains on their wings, and on the last day of the festival, they were permitted to sit and speak to their masters and mistresses as equals. She had enjoyed seeing Iryn with his freedom, even if it was only freedom that had lasted for a week. They had laughed together, they had gone to the country and he had taken her hand. It was a liberty that he would never legally be allowed to do. It was only during the Jadje festival that male Aviarys were allowed to express their love to their female human partners, if that was how their relationship was.  Any other time would mean jail time for the human and execution for the Aviary.

The reverse was not true. Elisabella noted sadly. A man was permitted to be affectionate, or force his affection, on an Aviary female whenever he wished. The law was not on the Aviary female's side if she refused. 

Even in the liberal Aigues Mortes, the laws held that the Aviarys were property, and were not granted the same freedom. One week a year, that law was off the books. It was the one time that the law had to be voted on; it gave the Aviarys a week of freedom while the government argued whether or not the Aviarys should be granted the same status as humans. Every year, the Aviarys got their hopes up, and every year humans failed them again. 

She was torn from her thoughts as the curtain on the stage rose. She saw three young women—females, she amended. They were not human. Their eyes were larger than a human's, their body more sharp and lithe, wings moved from their shoulders and the tips touched the floor. The solid coloring of their wings, their body devoid of strips or patterns made them Hoyls, the most human looking of the Aviary races. She looked back up at Iryn; she had seen Iryn in his true form only once. They were the creatures made of fire, they bled gold. At least, that was what the myth said.

The Hoyls were the creatures that were the easiest to domesticate, the most loyal to their families. She saw how the illusion flared up, making the females look like women. Their feathers seemingly moved into skin, their wings pulled back into their bodies, their features became human, yet they were still ethereal, still beyond the reach of human beauty. She felt a stab of jealously at the thought of her husband's Hoyl. She had been the one that had hidden her race for the longest time until she had been found out. Elisabella's adopted daughter was her husband's pride and joy. The man, Trent, knew how much the Hoyl meant to his daughter and kept the female around. Stubborn female talks back to Trent and he doesn't care. He argues back with her, he looks at her in a way that he never looks at me.

The Hoyls started to sing. Each Hoyl was capable of singing in two different pitches at the same time, and the melodies that they sang in their native tongue stirred the blood. The song that the females sang radiated from them and touched each person differently. She relaxed back in her chair, taking enjoyment begrudgingly from how the creatures sang.

The creatures continued to sing, as they moved to the background. Their song changed, the drumming intensified as two more figures were brought onto the stage. She heard Iryn hiss as if in pain, she heard the chair protest from the grip that he had on it.

A child dressed in white rags was set down in the middle of the stage. The Hoyls closed their eyes as they sang a mournful dirge. Another figure dressed in black was heavily restrained. He strained and pulled, issuing a sharp cry. She knew instantly what the creature was as the chains melted from him. His eyes deepened in gold color, his skin paled, his veins shown like gold under his skin, he seemed to be radiating fire and heat. So much so that she felt it from where she was sitting at the center balcony seat.

She watched as the Phoenix, she knew that was what he was, fought against others of his kind. He twisted and screamed as the child started to cry, his arms reaching out for the Phoenix. Why are they holding him back? What are they trying to prove? Why are they torturing him by keeping the child from him?

She watched, sick with horror as a man in pristine-white, a Denzin of high rank, walked out. His sword unsheathed. She put her  hand to her mouth as she shook her head, as the Denzin raised the sword over the child. The child's screams mixed with the Phoenix's cry. The Phoenix broke free from his brethren and ran forward as the Hoyls' song rose higher. The Phoenix moved between the child and the blade, catching it between his shoulder blades as he cradled the child to his chest. Elisabella wept as she saw the child cling tight to the Phoenix. Watched as the Phoenix fought to remain kneeling as to not collapse and hurt the child. She saw the gentle way that the Phoenix brushed a tear from the child's cheek and gave him a small smile. The tender look in the Phoenix's eyes as it lay dying for the child nearly set her screaming.

The Phoenix held onto the child even as the light faded from his eyes. The child's parents moved up and took the child from him. For a moment, the light flared back in his eyes as he lunged for the child, trying to protect him even then. Another sharp stab to his side from the Denzin, had the creature finally fall to his side. Flames rose from his body and consumed him, leaving nothing to mark his presence.  Yet, the flames did not scorch the floor. Nothing was burned. The Phoenix had enough power to direct the fire inward, consuming only himself so that the child that was being carried away wouldn't be hurt from his dying fire.

She heard a broken noise from Iryn, a noise echoed in turn from every Phoenix in the room, including those that had been trying to restrain the Phoenix that had died.

She felt sick to her stomach as something caught her eye. She leaned forward; one of the females had tears running down her face. The others remained singing with their eyes closed. The Denzin took her by the hand and brought her to the center.  The pretty, light haired female was pressed down. Her face contorted in pain. Doesn't he know that the Hoyls will submit without a fight? Why is he hurting her if she cannot fight back to defend herself?

For the first time she felt a stab of pity for her husband's Hoyl and for the Hoyls that were held in bondage. The Phoenixes, Learas, Rieans… they could all fight to defend themselves or their families. A Hoyl was a healer, a gentle soul that did not have the capacity to hurt a soul. They were known as decoration or worse yet, her mind recalled, they cannon fodder. They were the creatures that were most abused, simply because they were gentle. 

She watched as the female's wings fluttered. The man grabbed onto one and braced his sword against the joint. She jerked in shock, he can't be…

The Hoyl screamed in pain as the sword hacked through her wing, severing it from her body. Her other wing wrapped tight around her body.

Elisabella shook her head. Hoyls without wings were released from their families that owned them but they also were not accepted into their flock. They were kept on the fringes of all society.

The second wing was severed with a sickening sound and the dual appendages were tossed into the crowd.  Children shrank away from them, their eyes wide in fear. Their parents eagerly grabbed for the wings. A Hoyl could heal others by taking their pain into themselves; it was thought that a Hoyl's wings could do the same.

God's children.  She thought as her head swam, her vision blurred and darkened at the edge, we are not the ones that are Gods children, they are. She thought of the selfless way that the Phoenix protected the child, she watched in shame as the remaining Hoyls walked up to the wingless Aviary and wrapped their wings around her, comforting her and hiding her shame.

The crowd started to disperse, the figures in black knelt down to pick up the sobbing children, or to reach out and comfort a member of their family that looked ill from the violence that they had just seen. She felt Iryn's hand on her shoulder and she sobbed. She stood up from her chair and nearly sank to her knees, his strong arms wrapped around her. He picked her up and held her against his chest. Others like her clung to the strong forms of their Phoenixes. Hoyls held onto the hands of children, offered a comforting embrace for their Master or Mistresses, they led them safely from the theatre and down the street, back to their homes.

She sobbed against Iryn's chest, "He killed him. He used the child's safety against him. The others tried to stop him…" she recounted, her voice faltering as she recalled how he had died. She shook her head, trying to clear the image. She shuddered in horror at the wingless Hoyl: "her wings…Iryn, they killed her in name. She'll never survive," she looked up at him. "Why didn't any of you try to stop what was happening?"

Iryn sighed as he tried to comfort his upset Mistress, "why didn't any of you try to stop it?" he iterated to her, "we serve you, faithfully, but you watch us be killed. You know that if we were to try and save those sacrifices, that we would be killed. Humans outnumber Aviarys, and Aviarys would fight alongside their families if they were under threat. It is a fight we cannot win," he looked down at her, brushing a tear away from her cheek.

"Is one week worth it then?" she asked, "one week of freedom, knowing what will happen afterwards?"

He brought her inside and into her room, making sure that her maid followed. "For one week, Ellie," he whispered, using his private nickname for her, "I was able to hold your hand. For one week, a Hoyl can leave her master and find her lover, or a Phoenix can take an abused child from his home and to safety with the Sisters. For one week, we can act for ourselves. We have wings, Ellie, and we submit to your chains. Please, I beg you; do not tighten our chains. Do not take our one week of freedom away out of pity for us, and the Ceremony that you have to watch. While we submit to your chains for now, one day someone will help us break them."