The Firebird and Other Extracts from Strange Matters by Bret Allen
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Ekaterina approached the nest slowly, with growing confusion. There was certainly a trail; she could see the tracks of bird’s feet and there were leaves stripped from the tree’s branches. She could plainly see the light from the firebird, the same glow that she had followed to the hill, but the bird itself remained hidden.
The rock shelf was bathed in a flickering light, as if a campfire was burning right in front of Ekaterina, but she could see nothing that might be the source. She held her net and spear up, creeping forwards, trying to spy the origin of the light. The shadows moved, first one way and then the other. A stone beside the clay nest was disturbed and she heard a flutter. She thrust into empty air with the spear, suddenly afraid, as she could feel the heat of the firebird but still could not see it.
A burst of heat across her back made Ekaterina cry out in pain. She turned around, casting the net, but saw and caught nothing. Another wave of heat passed painfully over her leg and this time she felt the brush of the firebird’s wing. She was defenceless, being burned repeatedly, unable to see anything other than shifting light.
Ekaterina tried to cover her face as she heard the beating of wings above her. The firebird’s talons scored deep gashes across her forearms as it dove down at her like a hawk. To her terror, her hair caught fire. She dropped to the ground and beat fistfuls of dust against her hair before the flames could engulf her.
Fear started to control Ekaterina’s actions, making her thrust her spear out wildly, with no success. The weapon might have been enchanted, but it still had to be thrust in the right direction. With hot air stinging her lungs and eyes, she began to retreat. Then she heard the firebird’s call. Like before, it sounded like a blend of several bird calls, but most of all like a bird of prey.
“Where are you?” she asked aloud, searching for the bird.
“Why are you trying to kill me?” asked a voice that made her gasp with shock.
“I’m the greatest hunter of the village! Reveal yourself, coward, and face me fairly!” she challenged. She turned about frantically but could see no speaker.
“I am not hiding, greatest hunter. It would seem that you cannot see me.”
The voice was high and fine, like the voice of a goddess, full of strange cadences. Ekaterina listened carefully for the source and spotted a tree branch sagging under an invisible weight. Cursing the witch’s treacherous eyes, she threw the spear, trusting to its enchantment.
Though she could not see what, the spear definitely hit something. The light dimmed and Ekaterina heard a pained caw. A bright orange feather floated to the ground and a thump at the base of the tree made her move closer. The spear lay there, blooded, beside a disturbed patch of earth. She still could not see the firebird, but she heard it. With a melancholy trill, it burst into flames.
The sudden light and heat made Ekaterina cry out and fall onto her back. She scrabbled backwards, stopping at the lip of the rock shelf, staring at the sudden and wild conflagration beside the tree. The tree itself caught fire in places. The flames slowly receded, leaving only embers and ashes. In the midst of the glowing ashes sat a large egg.
Amazed, Ekaterina approached again and snatched up her spear and net. The egg, perfectly white, cracked before her eyes. From within emerged an adult firebird, whole and unharmed. She just had time to see some orange plumage in the darkness before it spread its wings, then came a fresh burst of light as the firebird reignited.
Suddenly, just as before, it disappeared. Ekaterina could see the light and feel the heat, but the bird itself was invisible again. She growled in frustration. The firebird could not be killed, just as the legends said. The spear, for all its magic, could do no more than inconvenience her quarry.
“I recognise that spear,” said the firebird. “You claim to be the greatest hunter, but you use a spear that cannot miss, like a child cheating at a game.”
Ekaterina spun towards the sound and threw the net. The twisted, ragged thing unfurled and draped over the bird’s invisible form before it could flap away. There was an angry burst of heat and light but it was in vain, for the net quickly constricted and bit at its captive. She took a firm grip on the net and braved the heat. The invisible firebird struggled briefly before the net snarled around it and stifled its fire. Ekaterina’s burns and cuts began to heal as the net drank from its prey.
Ekaterina raised the spear and prepared to strike. Then, she saw what she had caught.
The firebird had become visible at last. She saw orange feathers, a crest, a long tail and a long yellow beak; but all were dull. The firebird looked pathetic and small, not radiant or beautiful, but like a broken thing. A minor but profound detail had changed; earlier that day it had looked to her like all birds at once, but now it could be any old bird. Perhaps it was a little unusual, but also quite unimpressive, like fool’s gold when compared to the true thing.
“I also recognise this net,” said the firebird. “A thing of Death. You know, a spear that cannot miss does not become more impressive when your prey is bound and crippled by a net that weakens its captive. Some hunters would consider your weapons quite embarrassing.”
“Silence!” retorted Ekaterina.
She hefted the spear, judging the quickest and cleanest way to kill the firebird. It seemed smaller than it had before. Its chest rose and fell slowly, weakened. Its feathers were muted and lifeless without their aura of fire and light. Just like the hare, there was something piteous and wrong about its diminished state. She felt an acute sense of sadness, but tried to ignore it, focusing on the fact that soon she would succeed in her quest. The firebird continued to speak.
“I should not be surprised that Death found someone willing to help him undo our deal. I hope that he paid you well.”
“What?” asked Ekaterina, watching the bird carefully. “I hunted you for myself, not at Death’s behest. I’m not a… mercenary. The net was part of a trade.”
“Then I hope that you did not trade too much for it,” said the firebird. “I can see that someone took your beauty. Forgive me, but you seem… lacklustre. Not ugly, but faded and plain, without the spark of pride that makes one’s beauty shine. It is a sad thing to see. I dread to think how I look at this exact moment...”
While it was clearly getting weaker, the firebird did not seem as perturbed by the net as the hare had been. Its eyes were defiant and proud. Despite herself, Ekaterina lowered the spear. The firebird was utterly helpless and she felt the need to explain her actions to it.
“Yes… if you must know, you’re right. I gave my beauty for the net, but that only proves how strong my will is. No price is too high to catch a worthy quarry.”
“I would argue that a quarry is no longer ‘worthy’ after you have crippled it, but who am I to judge the greatest hunter?”
“You mock me,” muttered Ekaterina.
She quietly knelt beside the dulled creature as she realised that it was right. She had not just given her beauty for the net, but also her pride, because there was no dignity or esteem in defeating the firebird by reducing it to the potency of a common sparrow. She suspected that the creature was trying to talk her out of killing it, but she could not seem to hurry herself. She let it continue to talk.
“Not at all. I cannot deny your dedication. Are you the one I saw earlier today, hunting the boar? Is that what led you to pursue me?”
“Yes. You spoiled my hunt, so you became my target.”
“Then saving that boar will cost me my life. Death comes in the most unlikely guises!” laughed the firebird.
“That is true,” said Ekaterina.
“It was a jest,” said the firebird. “You are such a serious young thing. Where is your joy?”
“I gave my laughter to a fisherman, to get this magical spear,” she said, gesturing to it; the trade seemed absurd and embarrassing now.
“A high price, even for the spear of the thunder god. So you gave away your joy and your beauty. And, if you saw Death before your time, I susp
“I traded my eyes for the cunning eyes of a witch. They helped me to track you, but then you were invisible to me. I lied to her about catching you alive, so she must have put a curse on them.”
“There is no curse,” said the firebird. “Those eyes are sharp indeed, but jaded and blind where it matters.”
“I…” stuttered Ekaterina.
Tears began to well in her borrowed eyes. She understood now why the firebird looked so pathetic and mundane compared to the wonderful sight she had seen that morning.
“Can I tell you what I see?” asked the firebird. “I see a woman with no joy, awe or pride. Even I am not worth that price.”
Ekaterina wept then, at the discovery of what she had made herself into. She sank to the ground and buried her face in her hands. She had become a diminished, bitter person with nothing to show for her sacrifices. She had found the firebird at last, but could not admire it. She had bested it, but could feel no satisfaction. She had caught it, but could claim no honour.
In order to catch it, she had taken away the magic that made it the firebird. If she killed it now, she would be killing an ordinary bird. In fact, the very thought of killing it- no, murdering it- made her feel ill. She was not a great hunter, but a cruel and selfish one. Even taking the firebird alive, as the witch had suggested, seemed wrong. Then again, going home empty-handed and so dreadfully changed was also an unpleasant thought. She curled her fingers in the net, trying to decide what to do.
“I just wanted to be as good as any man,” she murmured.
“What is your name, young woman?” asked the firebird.
“Ekaterina.”
“Ekaterina, I understand only little of men and women, for I am unique in the world and have no mate. Are you not already as good as any man?”
“Not in their eyes. Men look down on women in my village. My mother has to clean and cook and look after infants, while they can hunt and drink and build…”
“There is no shame in what your mother does.”
“I know,” said Ekaterina. “But they do not see it that way.”
“Then I take it that you came all this way and sacrificed so much so that you could prove yourself to the men. I admire your determination, but I think you let it turn into obstinacy. You were impatient and you tried to take shortcuts.”
“What should I have done? I couldn’t just ignore the way they treat me, or let them control me! I had to prove that I was a better hunter than any of them!”
“I saw you hit the boar. A perfect throw. You were already as good as any man, Ekaterina, or any woman for that matter. You knew this, but in your haste to shame them and raise yourself up, you set out to kill me; even at the cost of the qualities that make victory worthwhile. Even if I was a terrible monster and you had slain me gladly, the cheers of the men would ring hollow.”
“But it was necessary! Otherwise, nothing would change…”
“Ekaterina, you should defy those who try to control you, but should never let them change you.”
“Damn you for being right!” shouted Ekaterina, angry and distraught, her tears flowing. “I… I’m sorry. Forgive me, firebird, for attacking you. I’m a fool and I’ve given away everything precious to me for a fool’s quest.”
“Poor Ekaterina, I forgive you,” said the firebird. “You should have been happy with your own judgement of your worth; to seek the approval of ignorant people is to give worth to ignorance.”
Ekaterina nodded as she fought back her sobs. She could feel the bitter cold of the night now that the bird’s fire was out. She was saddened to realise that the firebird’s beauty and colour was lost to her forever; she could barely remember what she had glimpsed of it by the stream. She had seen a truly wonderful thing and her selfish reaction had been to kill it.
Disgusted with herself, she began to untie the net. She knew now that she could not kill the firebird. She had to return to the village, shamed, mirthless and blind to goodness. She carefully unwound the net from the firebird, half expecting it to attack her, but it did not. Nor did it regain its fire and become invisible; she had drained a great deal of its strength.
“I’m so sorry. Will you recover your light?” she asked.
“Soon enough, yes. You do not need to apologise; I should thank you for staying your hand. If I can reward you somehow, I will. Dry your eyes, young one.”
Ekaterina wiped away her tears as the firebird shakily stood and preened itself. She then looked down at the wet tears on her hand and paused for a moment.
“Firebird… did you really save the life of the boar I wounded?” she asked.
“I did. I saw a fellow creature of the forest in need, so I healed it.”
“Then is it true that your tears can heal any wound?”
“Oh, all tears have the power to heal. Regarding this, however, let me correct you: it is my fire that heals magically. My fire is the fire of life. Why do you ask?”
“Can you heal the kind of losses that I have suffered?” asked Ekaterina.
“You have not lost anything; you traded it all away willingly. Nevertheless, it is within my power. Very well, Ekaterina, I offer you a choice: I can restore just one of the things that you are lacking, or, if you were to make one more trade with me… then I could restore all three as if they never happened.”
“I see. What do you want from me in return?”
“You may choose. One last trade to undo all of your mistakes, quickly and easily…”
Ekaterina thought carefully. She stood and regarded the feather in the nest and the little pile of ashes. She touched her face, the skin so dry and drawn. She looked out at the forest, lit by the moon, with the river snaking through it and the wooden palisade of her village in the distance. She thought of how the firebird had appeared to her before and how she had spoken to the elders. She remembered the landlord’s son and his violence and thought of how stupid she had been to ever want to be equal to someone like that. She looked at the net and the spear and thought of how all things had their price.
“I would like to offer you a trade,” she said to the firebird.
“What will you give me?” it asked.
Ekaterina took out the tail feather that she kept in her pocket and laid it before the firebird.
“A promise. I swear that I no longer wish to hunt you, for it was wrong and I’ve learned far more from sparing you than I could ever have gained from slaying you. In return… please heal one of my impairments. Just one; to restore them all would be taking another shortcut and learning nothing.”
“A very good choice indeed,” said the firebird. “Well done, Ekaterina. Forgive me for testing you. But what should I heal?”
“My eyes. I don’t deserve laughter and pride has caused me enough trouble as it is. I’d like to be able to see beauty again, so that I can look upon you in wonder once more. That’ll be enough to make my journey worthwhile.”
“How can I say no to that? I do so love to be admired!” laughed the firebird.
The firebird reignited, immediately becoming invisible again. Ekaterina heard a flapping of wings and felt the heat from the creature bloom in front of her. There was a burst of light and fire, then a terrible pain on her face, sudden and hot, making her shout out in panic. She closed her eyes tightly and clutched at them.
When the fire passed, Ekaterina’s eyes hurt badly and she could not open them. She gingerly tried touching her face and the flesh felt tender. Her fingers then found a burn scar, teardrop-shaped, below one eye. She knew that it was a reminder, another price paid, but a price paid wisely. Ekaterina gradually managed to open her eyes and at last she saw the firebird.
The firebird was radiant, a thing of grace and beauty so pure that she could hardly believe it existed in the dark, cold forest. Her memory of the bird had been poor in comparison to the real thing. She saw flames of gold and crimson washing over feathers of orange, yellow, green and blue. The firebird’s tail and wings shone li
New tears came into her eyes as she was awestruck in the most humbling way. They were tears of joy, childlike and wonderful. She laughed as she beheld the firebird. Ekaterina was able to see beauty again and that alone was a balm for her soul.
“Thank you, firebird!” she cried.
“A simple feat,” replied the bird, trilling with satisfaction. “They are still the witch’s eyes, but I have restored awe to them. They might not be quite so sharp for a while, as beauty can be terribly distracting, but with time and patience you will learn to use them again.”
“I will treat them well. But I laughed, did you not hear? I felt joy again!”
“Nothing is gone forever, Ekaterina. If you forsake that spear for a weapon more earthly and train with it until you never miss, then your joy will return completely. All it takes is time. Do good things and look upon beauty; it will help.”
“I will! Does that meant that my own beauty will return too?” asked Ekaterina, for deep inside she felt the first spark of it, knowing that she had done the honourable thing.
“In time, in time! Do not use that net; work on your skills diligently instead. Make yourself proud. Earn it. Your beauty will shine through again, when you learn to separate esteem and ego.”
“I will. I’ll become the great hunter I’ve been claiming to be, through my own merit.”
The firebird took to the sky and soared, its plumage streaking like a falling star, its cry a pure note of magic. It circled Ekaterina and landed again on a branch.
“That is good to hear. I do hope that no others from your village will come hunting for me.”
“I… I suppose I’ll tell them that I was wrong. That you do not exist.”
“You would face their derision for my sake? Then you have changed for the better. I am humbled.”
“I won’t let them get to me anymore, but I still want to enlighten them. I wish I could open their eyes, the way that you’ve opened mine. They’ll have even less respect for me when I return empty-handed.”
“You are not empty-handed. Take back what you have learned, Ekaterina. Maybe they will listen. If not… well, keep hunting. You were never wrong to pursue your talents or to seek change. Keep providing for the village. The women will appreciate it and maybe in time, some will be encouraged to join you. The men will follow.”
“Yes… you’re right. I’ll try, but it’ll be difficult… on my way here, I had to kill the landlord’s son. I had no choice; he attacked me. If the elders don’t run me out of the village, then perhaps I’ll take his place on the hunts.”
“Tell them the truth. Should they try to harm you, call for me and I will protect you. I will forsake my secrecy if you need me. Understand, Ekaterina: a friend is more valuable than a trophy!”
The firebird spread its wings triumphantly. Ekaterina laughed as it preened itself and took to the air again, hovering above her, washing her with waves of fiery light.
“I’ll try hunting wisdom from now on!” she called to it.
“Then you truly are a great hunter, young Katya!” it called back.
Ekaterina waved to the firebird as it circled around and then cast out towards the horizon, where the sky was turning red. The sun was starting to rise. The firebird seemed to fly into the sun, blending into its red glow, until she could no longer see it.
Ekaterina sat down to appreciate the beauty of the sunrise. She did not cherish the thought of heading to the village and telling them about the landlord’s son. The elders would probably accept her innocence eventually, but she was under no delusion; there would be rumours, no matter what she said. Strangeness was bound to follow her now, with the unusual burn below her eye. The scar still hurt, especially when she moved her face. She would be less beautiful and slow to laugh for a while, but not forever.
Ekaterina realised that she owed her mother an apology, but she was still determined to hone her hunting skills and live independently. She decided to take the long route back to the village and see what she could catch along the way, using only her honest skill. She reached into her pocket and felt the arrowhead there, wondering how long it would take to fashion a bow and knowing that it would be time well spent.
The thought made a smile creep onto her face; it stung, but she smiled all the same.