The story prompts:
1. Anything that has to do with a Greek mythical creature
2. Anything to do with the Victorian period
My story:
"Firebird"
Written for:
Susan
Author's note: The FicSwap rules only require one prompt to be used, but I couldn't resist setting this story in the 1830s-1890s, for a sort of Jules Vernian atmosphere. As for the Greek creature, it's named after the Russian firebird, but it's loosely based on the Greek phoenix legend.
[Please let me know if there are any typos/errors/etc]
Firebird
I.
There was nothing very extraordinary about the twentieth window of Lord Gillette's house. A narrow frame, sloping sill, and dark, shadowy glass panes were its chief features. The frosty December twilight brushed each square of glass in misty white, but with a timidity that only touched the edges of the window panes. In Lord Gillette's rambling house, of stupendous wealth, there may have been a hundred of this identical window, and all tinged with that same phantom snow; and surely this one had nothing unusual to distinguish it.
But it was fascinating to me.
Atop its surface, I saw reflected the dying fire and heard the guests' voices growing nearer (as it seemed) behind me, as the masquerade ball approached its climax. And into the window, farther than one could look upon a mere picture or mirror, I watched our host's large front lawn run downwards and outwards until it stopped where the forest began; the forest, in its turn, climbing up the hills opposite and so on, farther up across the mountains, which loomed over all. A week's worth of snow remained immovable on the ground, while I watched a curious star in the distance rise and sink and fade, as if it was never seen. The moon sat unchanged in the sky.
“Joann, do you see that coach coming up, from the direction of the town?” asked a voice suddenly. It was my cousin, Eugenio, who stood beside me and peered out of the window intently. “No, not a coach—a carriage. It's veered away from the road; I can't see it now. I was positive it was coming here.”
“It may yet,” I suggested.
“Only if he means to cut through Tinselwold.”
“The forest?”
Eugenio shrugged, but seemed a little pleased with himself. “Well, I suppose I can tell you now. Gillette (on behalf of the government) has summoned me out here to map the forest...I had some notion of calling it 'Tinselwold'. It's really neither here nor there, but it must be called something. Ah, there's the coach again! Coming here directly; I daresay it's not proper decorum to be staring at them. The moon is uncommonly bright, isn't it? Here, let me find you a chair—oh, horrors.”
My cousin Eugenio was not of a great height to begin with, and he had all the appearance of shrinking when Lady Gillette came tripping laughingly towards us. Despite her splendid Pacific-blue gown and heavily-feathered peacock mask, there was no mistaking her actual identity. Nor was there any possibility of masking her suave but high-pitched voice, which no sooner greeted us than began to reprimand Eugenio and me for not having come to the ball in costume. Lady Gillette was astounded, deeply disappointed; and as she told us, “it was just unheard-of, except for Colonel K., of course, but then he always wore his regimentals, which just couldn't be helped. Colonel K. might be excused, but what could Eugenio say for himself? Young man, he had no excuse.”
My cousin, in reply, stood murmuring apologies and awkwardly bowing, as Lady Gillette had taken him by the arm and was now giggling between fits of pretended scolding. If it had been only the two of us there, I could have explained to Lady Gillette that we hadn't been aware that it was a masquerade, having received the invitations by word of mouth at a last minute's notice. Indeed (though this I could not tell her) he had only accepted the invitation on my account; and living the quiet life of a surveyor and mapmaker, he had no wish for elaborate clothes, let alone costume of any kind. Unfortunately, Lady Gillette seemed to find the whole thing an amusing topic.
I don't know when we would have escaped her conversation, had it not been for one of the footmen. He wore a powdery grey wig and stood behind Lady Gillette until she turned round, demanding “what was the matter”.
“Mr Verano?” hemmed the footman.
Eugenio nodded, and the footman continued, “Mr Verano, the excellent Count Axel wishes to speak with you, confidentially...”
Count Axel! Had he been asked to give a speech, my cousin would not have been more startled.
“...in the billiard room. Will you come with me, sir?”
Nodding to me that I should follow, Eugenio promptly propelled us out of the ballroom. It was a further flight of stairs to the billiard room; and when we had at last reached it, I confess I stood staring about it curiously, having never seen one before. The count had not yet arrived. When he did, after some minutes, he seemed nearly as much surprised at our location as we were.
“Mr Eugenio Verano, delighted to meet you,” the count puffed. “And this lady is your sister?”
“My cousin, Miss Ann Verano.”
“There is a strong family resemblance...”
“She is my guest this Christmas,” continued Eugenio. “I can vouch for her sense of patriotism and discretion. Anything to be said may be spoken in her presence.”
The count and I were a little taken aback.
“I insist,” added my cousin, mildly.
“Well,” Count Axel frowned, “time is of essence, so I can only agree to your request. Well, I shall get to the point at once, sir. Would you like to earn—” and here he paused, before describing an incredible amount of money.
Eugenio frowned in disbelief and disgust, but the count hurried to explain:
“Do not be offended. I am serious and have been sent here by the King—yes, indeed by the King—to make you this offer on his esteemed behalf. It's that Firebird Hunt, you know. I suppose you've both heard of it; I suppose the whole country has, by now?”
I hadn't, and Eugenio knew that. He asked the Count to relate the details, and then listened patiently to them all, staring at the green table in front of him as he did so. The count told his story rather wearily, for all that:
“I will strive to be straight to the point. Now, the King has had many distinguished persons visiting him within the last year, but just one in particular has had (what I may mildly call) an extraordinary influence on him. I will not name this visitor, but it will be enough to say that his visit has changed His Majesty's life (for the worse, which I say strictly for your ears only). It just so happened that this visitor had brought a certain amount of his treasures to the King—that is, treasures meant only for showing. (You know how these monarchs are!) His Majesty was well-pleased with the gifts already given him, and he humoured the visitor by admiring the treasures. But, alas, he found there was one treasure in particular that he more than admired. And what was it? The tail of a phoenix, a firebird.
“You find it humorous, Mr Verano? But you have not seen a firebird, nor have you seen how it has affected His Majesty. He was so taken with its grandeur that it was on his mind for weeks. At last, he must organise a hunt for the creature, as it is very rare (they say, indeed, that there's only one in the entire world, and it comes back to life after it dies, but of course I can't believe that).
“In any case, the hunt was going on for months and the bird only just sighted a week ago. The King's scouts tracked it thus far; and long did they comb the countryside! I have come back from one of them, and it seems the firebird has entered that forest...out there, you understand. Now, Mr Verano, we have heard you are the expert shot in these regions and are soon to map that wilderness; the King expects you also have a good head for navigation. It seemed natural to ask for your assistance in this expedition. I have been sent to inform you that his Majesty does request it, and in the humblest manner his station in life allows. He hopes the sum mentioned is appropriate, considering the great inconvenience to you, should you accept and start out at once.”
During these last sentences, my cousin had been slightly shaking his head, which caused the count a good deal of distress. Now it was Eugenio's turn to speak, but he appeared more than usually reluctant to do so.
“I am surprised, of course.”
“Of course, but what is your decision? The King is so confident in you, that he will give you a thousand in advance, or should you return unsuccessful. His trust in you is very great...limitless, some might say...” added the count.
Eugenio strode to the window, with his sudden, hasty footsteps; and he thrust the curtain aside. I could see his intent gaze slightly mirrored in the window.
“Yes, the moonlight's very bright today. Well, why not?”
“You agree to find the firebird?” exclaimed Count Axel, in genuine surprise.
“'Attempt' is the word, sir. Yes, I'm going at once.”
“I am astounded.” I echoed Lady Gillette's words, but in very different tones. And then I realised I had said that aloud.
The count glared at me. “It's confidential, remember.”
“Of course,” answered Eugenio, unperturbed. And then to me, “I may need help carrying the light, among other things. Do you want to accompany me?”
Well, why not?
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