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Chapter Two: Sear
The Champion of the Phoenix Amongst Mortals sat in his spartan quarters and buffed at his already gleaming armor trying to eradicate all traces of blood on the aureate metal. Finally, he sighed and laid his polishing rag to the side. He just couldn’t get the blood out of the grooves of his patron’s sigil.
Picking up the armor, he stalked over to the roaring fire that provided the room with heat and tossed the whole mess in. The flames danced about the armor and began their task of eating the impurities.
Shima left the flames to their job and flung himself onto the simple cot that served as his bed. He stared up at the ceiling and tried to figure out the events of the past few days.
**********
The last thing he really remembered was falling.
And fire. Always fire. He couldn’t forget the flames. Not him being who he was and all.
And home. He remembered thinking how much he wanted to see his little sister that he had helped so much to raise after their mother died and father remarried to that nasty Earth Queen. It hadn’t been so bad at first. They didn’t really have to deal with her much, but after the birth of that squalling brat Zoisite... he just thanked Mars that the brat had been picked to be one of the guards of the High Prince of Earth.
Then, suddenly, he found himself moving down one of the corridors of Mars! Golden armor covered his body, which had gone from scrawny to buff in a surprisingly quick time. And the way he was moving! It was like he had never had a doubt about his abilities in his life! It seemed like he had been reborn a new man!
Then he realized it and sat bolt upright on his cot.
He had been reborn a new man!
What was it Lord Phoenix had said when they first met?
"Every five hundred years I die and am reborn anew."
Shima threw himself in front of the narrow shaving mirror that was propped up on his small bureau and inspected his clean shaven features in a new light.
He was a handsome man. Now fully grown, no longer in that weird in-between stage that he had been caught at for so long. His raven hair was in its braid, but where the braid had once settled its thread-wrapped tip between his buttocks, it now brushed lightly against his shoulder blades, except for in times like these when he was stressed, in which case it tended to stick out like a wire. His shoulders were broad, but then they had always been broad, just like his hands had always been so large and ungainly. His limbs had lost that odd spindly look and muscles befitting a warrior of his stature had blossomed all along his body.
He traced a scar that ran up his jawline with one trembling hand. The scar was old, faded, yet he knew, he just knew that he had only received the blow which had caused it less than a week ago. He grasped his steel shaving razor in one hand and drug the sharp edge along his callused palm, raising a brilliant welt of thick scarlet blood in its wake.
As he watched, white flames burst from the wound and sealed it until all that was left was a thin, pale, white line. He stared at his hand in shock and horror then stared into the mirror at his face again.
What had he become?
**********
A few days later, he found himself in a similar situation to the one that had caused him to question his existence.
He had just caught himself snarling at his little sister for no particular reason. The only reason that he had been able to stop himself from making it worse was the sight of the little girl that he had held in his arms sixteen years ago trembling and in tears at his words. He had nearly broken into tears himself at that as he had gathered her into his arms and apologized to her. The worst thing that he could see about it was that she had forgiven him.
He slammed his way into his quarters and hauled off the Golden Armor. As soon as it was off, he flung it into the flames and hurled himself into the closest chair he could find. Which just happened to be the marble monstrosity covered in furs that the servants had stuck into his quarters just so that they wouldn’t have to deal with it. The fact that it was stone was the only thing that saved it from being crumpled under the force of Shima’s impact.
Shima lounged in the chair and glared at the fiery armor ensconced in the hearth.
The armor was the problem, he decided. Every time he wore the damn thing, he ended up lashing out at everyone. Often for no real good reason other than the simple fact that they were human and they were there.
Now he had lashed out at his sister. At the only real family he had. Things had gone much to far.
It was time to speak with Lord Phoenix, himself.
**********
Shima appeared in the main chamber of the Lord Phoenix’s domain in a roar and rush of flames. He stalked across the cavern carrying the breastplate of his armor. When he reached the Lord Phoenix, he threw the armor to the ground at his patron’s flaming feet.
"Your pardon, Lord Phoenix. But I think that we should talk."
Lord Phoenix’s fluting voice filled the chamber with light in opposition to Shima’s baleful baritone, but then the Spirits and their Champions were often at odds.
"Yes, Champion? What is it that bothers you?"
"Your... gift..., Lord Phoenix."
"Oh? Does it not fit well?"
"It fits just fine, Lord Phoenix."
"Oh. So, what is it that bothers you?"
"It removes my free will, Lord Phoenix." Shima’s voice was barely civil, his teeth clenched tight behind the snarling mask his features had twisted themselves into.
"That is the point, Champion. A Champion is useless if he reasons for himself."
"I am ... sorry... Lord Phoenix, but I am afraid that I cannot agree with that."
"And why not, Champion?" The Lord Phoenix raised a delicate eyebrow.
"I agreed to be your Champion, Lord Phoenix. I agreed to protect you of my own free will, Lord Phoenix. I did not agree to be your slave!" Shima had abandoned civility and was now openly snarling.
"Then do not wear the armor, Champion."
"I have no other garb other than the jerkin and pants that are worn underneath, Lord Phoenix. I have no choice if I must be seen." Shima’s voice went back to being dangerously level.
"Very well, Champion. I shall supply you with garb fitting of my Champion."
"And the Golden Armor, Lord Phoenix?" Shima gestured towards the armor on the floor. "Shall you remove the magic upon it that takes from me my will?"
"Very well, Champion." The Lord Phoenix waved a blazing claw-hand at the Golden Armor. "It is done. You will find your new garb awaiting you at your quarters."
"And it is not enchanted either, is it, Lord Phoenix?"
"No. It is not. Now, you may go."
Shima smirked at the Lord Phoenix as he gathered up the Golden Armor, bowed and exited in a roar of displaced air and a gout of golden flames.
***********
Being free of the enchantment and being allowed to be himself once more meant much to Shima. He even managed to tolerate a brief smile cracking his features instead of his traditional smirk once.
But he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be till the Lord Phoenix decided to make him pay for his impertinence.
*********
As it turned out, it wasn’t long at all.