I Gave You the Best of My Love

[Damask the Minstrel]

Was it just a fantasy? Damask could feel a tremor start as the stoat's arms went around his maiden.

Yes, whispered Softleaves.

But... if she ever cared--

No.

What do I do? Damask felt a cold dread spreading from the pit of his stomach, paralyzing him and forcing him to remain gazing upon the embrace. This chill sucked the color, the life, and even the music from the world itself.

Just let me take care of everything.

The bird shook his head violently as a buzzing began in his ears. He emitted a soft squawk as pressure began to build behind his eyes -- a stabbing, drilling, lobotomizing pain.

"Damask?" The voice that pierced his internal dialogue was slightly nasal. It grated on his ears, and caused the pain to flare up. It was feminine.

"No!" The bird covered his face with his wings and began to shake. "I'm not ready! Not finished!"

A sharp cry emerged from the bird's throat and he took to wing, his eyes whirling wildly.

From behind him came a second call, "Damask? Curses. Venril, I'll be right back."

--------

The robin landed a lengthy distance from the pair -- on foot. He clutched his head again, whimpering at the tumult that was overcoming his senses.

A voice emerged from his beak -- Softleaves's. "This foolishness has gone on long enough!"

"Still, I believe that she is true, and I will not give in to you!"

"Open your eyes, bird! She's been hanging off of every other male. She doesn't want or need you -- and neither do I!"

"You failed your life, a life of shame -- You sullied both of our good names. You gave up song for but a coin --"

"Our good names? Who are you?" Softleaves-Damask demanded.

"You know I am your oldest dreams: to make the world be better than it seems. You spy and hide and hate the 'cruel world'. I sally forth and actually do good."

The bird's beak closed as Softleaves fell silent. All right. But you know well as I do that she's lying to you.

Damask nodded, "I know. But you remember that feeling, don't you? When you showed her to me, I could tell."

I remember. And I understand. But you know what we have to do.

Damask fell silent again, listening to the sounds of the desert around him. "I want to talk to Bellona first. She deserves to know why."

And then find Eliza and say goodbye.

"Goodbye..."

The bird went aloft again, that word echoing in his ears.

-----------

When Damask landed, he saw Bellona conferring with a group of beasts he didn't recognize, so the minstrel stayed back a ways. His claws dug into the sand as he fidgeted in place.

What do I say? the bird thought to himself.

You know what you have to do, Softleaves replied. This has gotten too big for one little bird: wars, death, cave savages, deceit -- we have to go, now. And let's not forget her.

But Bellona won't understand all that? How will I--

You have to hurt her. Make her not care.

"Damask!" The bird winced as the voice interrupted him. Without looking he knew what her expression would be. He let his eyes drift to the dormouse -- relief on her features and a smile. "Damask, I thought you-- I'm glad you're safe."

"Err... Bellona," the bird's voice was low as he replied, "can we talk?"

The smile vanished. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Damask was silent for a long moment, his fidgeting growing.

Do it!

"I have to go!" he blurted out. His chest tightened as he locked eyes with Bellona. He could see a multitude of expressions fighting their way across her face: eyes widened, brows knitted then upturned, an open mouth to a frown to a set jaw. "What?"

"I can't stay here." The bird felt a flush rising to his cheeks. "Eliza doesn't care for me, and without --"

"Eliza." Bellona spat the name as if it would sully her mouth with its presence. "Don't be an idiot, Damask."

"I love her!" The bird's voice came out as an indignant squeak. He shook his head a moment to regain control. "Or loved her. Fates, I don't know, but it doesn't matter, now."

"She's a vermin, Damask."

He felt himself rising to her bait, his feathers ruffling. "And that's all that matters, aye? I didn't expect you to understand, and I'm not asking you to."

"You're just running, then?"

"Life isn't always a fight, Bells." The bird reached out a wingtip to her shoulder.

She shrugged it off and turned her back. Damask had to strain to hear as she spoke to the horizon, "I suppose it is best this way. I mean you're hurt and not much good in a fight, anyway. You're not much use in caves or a desert, and a spy without a--"

The mouse's voice caught in her throat as a feathered canopy enveloped her from behind. Damask leaned his head down and whispered to her, "I wouldn't have stayed for fighting. Comrade."

He felt the mouse relax under his wings, leaning her weight back onto his chest. He heard her murmur, "Why d'you have to sound like..."

"I'm sorry, Bells." The bird added pressure to the embrace, holding her tight. "You are a dear friend -- something I've not had for a long time. But, I have to go."

She nodded, keeping still and silent. I've never seen her like this. She's so... small.

Damask relinquished the embrace, taking a step back and allowing her to turn. She kept her face turned, however, her gaze from his. "All right, Damask..."

"Bells..." He turned her chin with a wing, forcing her to face him. "I hope I can see you again, someday. Smiling."

He didn't wait for a reply, but took to the sky again, leaving the mouse behind.

Now, don't look back...

-------

And now, for the worst...

Softleaves added, But the most important. You have to--

"I know." Damask was startled that he had answered aloud, but shook his head once before continuing, "It's just... I've never been on this side of it."

There she is. Softleaves was silent before adding, Try to be nice, though, there she is.

"Miss Eliza!" Damask called, wheeling around to land in front of her, "I wanted to --"

"I was searching for you."

"Er..."

The marten looked down at her paws -- pointedly. "On foot."

"Well, I --"

"In the desert."

"I'm sorry, Miss Eliza, I just didn't --"

"What did you fly off for, anyway? I told you there's nothing going on. He hugged me."

The bird only nodded, while Softleaves's mocking tone echoed in his mind, When I said nice, I didn't mean groveling.

"Well?"

"I'm leaving, Eliza." The bird's tone was as gentle as he could manage. He kept his eyes on the marten, trying to gauge a reaction.

She was silent for a beat. "You're leaving."

"Yes."

She shook her head once and took a seat on a nearby rock, crossing her arms and frowning at the bird, "No, Damask, you're not. That's just stupid."

The bird lowered himself to haunches to be at her level. "Eliza," he began, "We both know there's no reason for me to stay."

"Of course there is! Who's going to... I'll need somebeast to..." The marten's voice trailed off after the second thought. She ended lamely, "You never needed a reason before."

"I had a reason," the bird countered. "The game was enough -- that giddy, foolish feeling that when it strikes, drives everything from your mind."

She was silent, staring past the bird.

"Eliza... a part of me always knew you didn't care for me."

"But, I did care about you!"

"Look me in the eyes, Eliza. Hold my gaze and tell me you love me." Damask saw a slight twitch on one of her eyelids; it elicited a small smile from the bird, "See. Your eyes always told me the truth. That smile, those words weren't much of a disguise, my lady."

The marten narrowed her eyes. "How dare you."

"I'm sorry, madame." The bird rose to his feet and dipped a low bow to her, "But if there's nothing else, I should be taking my leave."

He cleared his throat, then, and gave her a final poem:

"My dear, your smiles and your kiss --
Are memories that ever shall endure
So know that ev'ry moment you are missed.
For never shall my heart be healed of her."

As he turned, her voice rang out, "That's it, then? Throw out a poem and fly off into the evening?"

Her words halted his progress and he turned back. He reached down with his beak and removed the bangle from about his leg. With a flick, he tossed it to Eliza. "I won that many a season ago. I was saving it for a love that never came home." He paused, shaking his head at the memory. "I wanted to give it to some lady that I loved -- to show that my everything: my heart, my love, and even my song was hers."

He leaned down, brushing a wing tip along her scarred face. The movement made her shudder. "Yours. A beauty to hopefully match yours."

Damask turned then, leaving the jill staring at the offering at her feet. He said, simply, "I love you, Eliza."

The bird pushed off hard, taking to the air. As the wind coursed through his feathers, Damask forced his eyes to rest on the horizon.

I'll find my love.