Altair and Tarazed

There are many stars in the sky, and many stories on the earth, and sometimes the stars and the stories are intertwined. Myths, they're called, most of them, but there are those that are…different. This is one of those stories.

Look! Here are Altair and Tarazed, a pair of luminaries from the constellation Aquila. Watch them now, and listen closely, for such stars and such stories are hard to come by, and seldom see

n for themselves, seldom told to the uninitiated.

The sphere of Altair is blue on the spectrographs, and, in its size, it is ordinary. Too, the denizen, the luminary Altair, flames blue, and for a luminary, she is of average build. She looks vaguely human, bearing arms, legs, hips, breasts, shoulders, and head. But doubled wings-sheets of fire caught between arching spars-spring vast and blue-white from those humanoid shoulders, and her head bears not hair, but cobalt fire. Altair bears her power like a cloak, and it swirls in a maelstrom about her, awesome and eerie, terrible and beautiful. There is a fierce temper set jewellike into those luminescent eyes, and a hollow yearning in the sculpted features of her face. This is Altair, the luminary of the sphere of Altair, the point star in the constellation Aquila.

He is dimmer, cooler, and smaller, as is to be expected. His sphere and himself are red-orange, sun-embers, burning different elements as they shrink to their deaths. He is an older luminary of an older star, though his sphere has stood for far longer than he has.

Tarazed has but a single pair of wings, and they are not sheets of fire-they are feathered in it, red and orange coruscating across their narrow surface. He is shorter than Altair, by whatever scale one uses to measure the height of luminaries, and it is an intense purpose that is set in his eyes, a vague amusement that shapes the contours of his expression. Slim, lithe, and dark, this is Tarazed, the denizen of the Tarazedan sphere, the last star in the constellation of Aquila.

Altair acknowledges that love without returning it, for though her temper is hot, her emotions run deep and cold and sterile, lunar oceans of cool affection and keen appreciation. And she cannot help but encourage him, poor Tarazed, the plundering falcon, for she treats him as fairly and pleasantly as any other.

Assembly was the only time that the luminaries of a constellation were required to leave their spheres of influence. The Estrellada was spanned by a torrent of luminaries, a presence and majesty that made it hard to breathe.

Among these august personages strolled Tarazed, studiously nonchalant, gently teasing Taygeta, arguing with Celaeno. But though his tongue was quick and his words gilded with his wit, Tarazed's amber eyes never strayed from Altair.

She was arguing fiercely with Betelgeuse, her long hair waving and snapping bits of white fire as she grew more agitated. Delicately, he sidled up to her, wings laying smoothly against his back. Altair had hers half-extended, so that she bristled with flame and the darker spears of wingspars.

"Tarazed," the luminary said resignedly. He was of far greater effulgence than Alshain, but he knew that Altair never noticed such things within her own sphere of influence.

Tarazed thought that her handprint might be branded there. He was not displeased. Her skin was brightly, fiercely hot, sharp-scalding hot. Not dull furnace heat, no; she was steam burns and blistering car seats. The flames of his arm danced through her fingers and turned violet.

He guided her along one of the radial paths, away from the noise and the light of the conclave. The thin crystal floor that was set between the spheres wove a delicate, winding path along the Estrellada, and he walked her to an escarpment over the nebulous river. She leaned on the cobweb delicacy of the crystal railing.

"Thank you," she said dryly, wings fanning. "I thought I might go nova in His Most Luminous Ponderosity's presence. I cannot stand Betelgeuse and his ignorance."

Tarazed smiled ruefully. "Nor can I, Effulgency." He moved to stand beside her, admiring the way that her wings flared against the rich dark behind her. "Truth be told, we're an independent bunch, and none too used to other luminaries. Whoever decided to hold the Estrellada Conclave was surely mad."

He drew himself up on the railing, legs dangling. His amber-dark eyes shone dark against the firm flame of his face as he watched her. The luminary patted the railing in invitation, and she gracefully joined him, perching birdlike on the slender balustrade.

"Did you ever wonder what else lives out there? Something beyond our spheres and our systems, or something within? They say that you can fall into a different life if you walk off the edge here. Luminaries have come back, sometimes." His voice was soft, compelling, musical. Altair listened, her head cocked in polite curiosity.

She grinned as he finished, and tossed her head proudly. Her hair swirled from indigo to cerulean to cyan, rippling in an echo of the Estrellada. "It would be an adventure," the star-woman agreed, her robin's-egg blue eyes gazing sharp as lasers at the glorious river. "But they will not let us leave. We have much to do, and there are no lacunae for luminaries with their own spheres, Tarazed."

"No?" he said softly, slowly rising to balance on the crystal rod. He furled his wings tighter until his muscles ached. "Then perhaps we dare not ask." His hands cupped her hot shoulders, fouling her doubled wings, and he leapt off the balustrade in a single liquid motion. Altair, helpless, arched against his hold, and they were a double-arc of violet fire as they plunged toward the Estrellada.

The entire universe seemed to jerk 45º to the right. They began to fall through some kind of atmosphere. Startled, Tarazed released his struggling captive and, flipping end-over-end, cupped his wings to break his fall. Spitting curses, Altair did the same, her doubled wings extending with a snap. Once he had gained enough equilibrium to steady himself, he looked down.

It was a whole new world, and it was afire with sunrise. This green beauty was astonishing, exhilarating, breathtaking…a fresh glory like nothing he had ever seen before. Gaping, he set down on a projecting rock.

Altair wheeled lazily and backwinged beside him, glaring. "You! You…you've ruined everything! We could have died! What do you mean by this?" Her narrowed eyes snapped azure fire. With interest, Tarazed noticed that the sphere of light that luminaries usually projected no longer surrounded either of them. Altair burned, but her flames had no heat. She only felt warm under his hand when he touched her shoulder.

Humbly, the luminary flattened his pinions, smiling at the taller woman. "I was hardly going to get your attention normally, now was I?" he asked mildly. "You've been ignoring me for centuries. You needed a vacation, and I knew that this would work. You can hate me or not, as you will, but you can't pretend I don't exist any more."

The flames of Altair's hair flattened and twisted irritably. "You were always so flamboyant," she said acidly. "Tarazed Aquila, you are crazy if you think that I'm going to do anything with you after this."

She gave him a hot blue-white glare and clamped her wings close to her body, heatless flame streaming from her as if she were in a gale. After a moment of stony silence, she turned back to him resentfully, and spat "Where to now then, O fearless leader?"

"We're not going back right now. But we are going to do a little exploring, darlin' girl. Come with me!" He tugged at her hand, then leapt lightly up into the air again, watching for signs of intelligent beings.

Strange. They've never made a noise before…. A tall column of dark smoke to the east made him blink. His flying partner noticed the roiling cloud too.

"C'mon," she said, trying to sound sullen. Altair couldn't describe the sudden eagerness in her voice, however. "Might as well check it out, if you're exploring."

They sped up a little and gained altitude, no longer skimming the rolling, sandy hills below. The smoke rose thick and ominous from a long, low two-story building, clustered amidst other elegant structures. Red-orange flames licked out from its windows. Someone was screaming inside.

The luminaries hastened their flight, the lighter Tarazed outstripping Altair as they raced toward the building. He hovered before one window for a moment, getting his bearings. Then, with a flicker of wings, he was inside.

It was hellish there. Blackened beams were barely visible through the smoke, and hungry flames lapped at the walls. Tarazed's own fire shone luridly crimson-and-orange against the paler earthly conflagration as he searched for the trapped being.

He found them caught in a room where part of the floor had collapsed. There were two of them, young females. One was seated in a wheeled chair, her face pale with fever-spots high on her cheeks; the other was frantically trying to bridge the gaping, fire-filled chasm in the floor to get the woman across.

Lightly, he bounded across the gap. Behind him, he heard the noise of Altair coming in the window. The girls did not look as though the flames did not affect them.

The standing girl shrank from him as he reached for her, but Tarazed was not to be deterred. "Here," he shouted across the roar of the flames, gathering the smaller being into his arms and tossing her across the gulf to Altair. The taller luminary had a much larger wingspan, and she was unable to get to the tiny rectangle of floor.

Deftly, she caught the terrified young woman, letting her blue-white hair fall over the human's face to screen out the smoke. Within seconds, she had vanished into the black haze within the house.

She set her chin stubbornly, wheeling her chair in a little circle. "I'm not coming. I don't care what kind of angel you are, or what kind of paradise you're taking me to, I'm not going. I'm not finished."

Tarazed swore softly to himself. "I'm not coming to take you away. You're not dead yet, although if you hang around here too much longer you will be! Now come on, girl!"

Grimly, he reached to pluck her out of the chair. At the last moment, she jerked her upper body away, slashing her cheek on the pointed nails of his other hand. "For pity's sake…" He picked her up, wheelchair and all, and leapt clumsily over the gap, landing as lightfootedly as he could.

The scorched timbers groaned and shuddered under their doubled weight, and he made haste toward the promising half-circle of cool blue sky. Wood scraped beneath his feet, shifted…but the floor did not betray him.

It was the roof that came tumbling in, an avalanche of beams and tiles and flame. All he could do before the whole structure came crushing down on him was to engulf the girl in his wings, holding her close as all hell rushed in.

The weight of the roof broke the floor. He could feel it sagging beneath his feet. If he had possessed the doubled wings of a higher luminary, he could have still battered his way out. But the girl had to be kept safe. He could not draw in his wings, nor beat them to escape…

Altair watched in stunned silence as the entire house imploded, gushing flames through smashed windows. Soot and sparks scattered like spores, stretching to seed nearby structures with their wrath. After a while, everything was still. Only the fire danced on over the ruins of the house.

The house cracked and hissed as it continued to burn. Altair, with a wild-eyed look at the dumbly staring crowd, leapt toward it. Scrabbling frantically, she threw beams aside, heaving bricks and slate tiles in clattering cascades. The soft luminescence of her skin was broken by brick and timber until opalescent fire dripped down her arms and fell to break upon the ground. "Tarazed!" she called, over and over. "Tarazed!" until she was hoarse.

For the hour that the luminary dug, not one person turned to go. It was too incredible, too horrific, too heart-rending a sight. But there was many a closed and weary eye when the angel of pale fire cried out a discovery.

Crouched in a nest of broken timbers, broken wings wrapped around a bent human form, Tarazed looked back at her and smiled as his beloved wept. "I knew you'd come for me," he said quietly. His eyes, glassy and dilated with shock, never blinked.

Altair tenderly extracted him from his fire-barred prison, and lifted him and his charge easily. With a businesslike motion, she separated girl from luminary and set Tarazed's rescuee down at her family's feet. Then, deliberately, she started flying, Tarazed still clutched in her arms.

They skimmed the clouds in silence for a while, bemused. "That was a coal-brained thing to do," Altair said at last, watching for the next sign of habitation.

The broken luminary gave a little breathless laugh. "Nice to know you care." He relaxed in her arms, and soon slept, despite the pain of his trailing wings.

When she was sure that the red-orange star was well asleep, Altair brushed a fiery strand from his cool forehead. "That was the bravest, stupidest thing I ever saw," she told his eyelids. Tarazed smiled faintly in his sleep as his beloved flew on.


	Paperloom: The Otherworldly Characters \| home Altair and Tarazed (For the Healing Den) There are many stars in the sky, and many stories on the earth, and sometimes the stars and the stories are intertwined. Myths, they're called, most of them, but there are those that are…different. This is one of those stories. Look! Here are Altair and Tarazed, a pair of luminaries from the constellation Aquila. Watch them now, and listen closely, for such stars and such stories are hard to come by, and seldom seen for themselves, seldom told to the uninitiated. The sphere of Altair is blue on the spectrographs, and, in its size, it is ordinary. Too, the denizen, the luminary Altair, flames blue, and for a luminary, she is of average build. She looks vaguely human, bearing arms, legs, hips, breasts, shoulders, and head. But doubled wings-sheets of fire caught between arching spars-spring vast and blue-white from those humanoid shoulders, and her head bears not hair, but cobalt fire. Altair bears her power like a cloak, and it swirls in a maelstrom about her, awesome and eerie, terrible and beautiful. There is a fierce temper set jewellike into those luminescent eyes, and a hollow yearning in the sculpted features of her face. This is Altair, the luminary of the sphere of Altair, the point star in the constellation Aquila. There are dimmer stars than Altair, cooler stars, smaller stars. Tarazed is one of these stars. He is dimmer, cooler, and smaller, as is to be expected. His sphere and himself are red-orange, sun-embers, burning different elements as they shrink to their deaths. He is an older luminary of an older star, though his sphere has stood for far longer than he has. Tarazed has but a single pair of wings, and they are not sheets of fire-they are feathered in it, red and orange coruscating across their narrow surface. He is shorter than Altair, by whatever scale one uses to measure the height of luminaries, and it is an intense purpose that is set in his eyes, a vague amusement that shapes the contours of his expression. Slim, lithe, and dark, this is Tarazed, the denizen of the Tarazedan sphere, the last star in the constellation of Aquila. He loves her. Altair acknowledges that love without returning it, for though her temper is hot, her emotions run deep and cold and sterile, lunar oceans of cool affection and keen appreciation. And she cannot help but encourage him, poor Tarazed, the plundering falcon, for she treats him as fairly and pleasantly as any other. Hist! This cannot continue forever, and I know its limit. This ending, which I will tell you, begins thusly: Assembly was the only time that the luminaries of a constellation were required to leave their spheres of influence. The Estrellada was spanned by a torrent of luminaries, a presence and majesty that made it hard to breathe. Among these august personages strolled Tarazed, studiously nonchalant, gently teasing Taygeta, arguing with Celaeno. But though his tongue was quick and his words gilded with his wit, Tarazed's amber eyes never strayed from Altair. Tarazed had a plan. She was arguing fiercely with Betelgeuse, her long hair waving and snapping bits of white fire as she grew more agitated. Delicately, he sidled up to her, wings laying smoothly against his back. Altair had hers half-extended, so that she bristled with flame and the darker spears of wingspars. "Effulgency," he said politely. "Will you walk with me? It is overwarm here." She shifted her gaze to him, blinking as thought she had forgotten how to look around. "Oh. Yes, of course…Alshain, was it?" "Tarazed," the luminary said resignedly. He was of far greater effulgence than Alshain, but he knew that Altair never noticed such things within her own sphere of influence. He offered his arm to her, gallant and hopeful, and Altair did not snub him. She laid her blue-white hand near his elbow, delicately. Tarazed thought that her handprint might be branded there. He was not displeased. Her skin was brightly, fiercely hot, sharp-scalding hot. Not dull furnace heat, no; she was steam burns and blistering car seats. The flames of his arm danced through her fingers and turned violet. He guided her along one of the radial paths, away from the noise and the light of the conclave. The thin crystal floor that was set between the spheres wove a delicate, winding path along the Estrellada, and he walked her to an escarpment over the nebulous river. She leaned on the cobweb delicacy of the crystal railing. "Thank you," she said dryly, wings fanning. "I thought I might go nova in His Most Luminous Ponderosity's presence. I cannot stand Betelgeuse and his ignorance." Tarazed smiled ruefully. "Nor can I, Effulgency." He moved to stand beside her, admiring the way that her wings flared against the rich dark behind her. "Truth be told, we're an independent bunch, and none too used to other luminaries. Whoever decided to hold the Estrellada Conclave was surely mad." Altair laughed, high and clear. "To be sure, Tarazed, to be sure." He drew himself up on the railing, legs dangling. His amber-dark eyes shone dark against the firm flame of his face as he watched her. The luminary patted the railing in invitation, and she gracefully joined him, perching birdlike on the slender balustrade. "Did you ever wonder what else lives out there? Something beyond our spheres and our systems, or something within? They say that you can fall into a different life if you walk off the edge here. Luminaries have come back, sometimes." His voice was soft, compelling, musical. Altair listened, her head cocked in polite curiosity. She grinned as he finished, and tossed her head proudly. Her hair swirled from indigo to cerulean to cyan, rippling in an echo of the Estrellada. "It would be an adventure," the star-woman agreed, her robin's-egg blue eyes gazing sharp as lasers at the glorious river. "But they will not let us leave. We have much to do, and there are no lacunae for luminaries with their own spheres, Tarazed." "No?" he said softly, slowly rising to balance on the crystal rod. He furled his wings tighter until his muscles ached. "Then perhaps we dare not ask." His hands cupped her hot shoulders, fouling her doubled wings, and he leapt off the balustrade in a single liquid motion. Altair, helpless, arched against his hold, and they were a double-arc of violet fire as they plunged toward the Estrellada. The entire universe seemed to jerk 45º to the right. They began to fall through some kind of atmosphere. Startled, Tarazed released his struggling captive and, flipping end-over-end, cupped his wings to break his fall. Spitting curses, Altair did the same, her doubled wings extending with a snap. Once he had gained enough equilibrium to steady himself, he looked down. It was a whole new world, and it was afire with sunrise. This green beauty was astonishing, exhilarating, breathtaking…a fresh glory like nothing he had ever seen before. Gaping, he set down on a projecting rock. Altair wheeled lazily and backwinged beside him, glaring. "You! You…you've ruined everything! We could have died! What do you mean by this?" Her narrowed eyes snapped azure fire. With interest, Tarazed noticed that the sphere of light that luminaries usually projected no longer surrounded either of them. Altair burned, but her flames had no heat. She only felt warm under his hand when he touched her shoulder. Altair jerked away from his soothing hand, wings mantling. "Explain, Tarazed," she gritted. Humbly, the luminary flattened his pinions, smiling at the taller woman. "I was hardly going to get your attention normally, now was I?" he asked mildly. "You've been ignoring me for centuries. You needed a vacation, and I knew that this would work. You can hate me or not, as you will, but you can't pretend I don't exist any more." The flames of Altair's hair flattened and twisted irritably. "You were always so flamboyant," she said acidly. "Tarazed Aquila, you are crazy if you think that I'm going to do anything with you after this." Tarazed shrugged philosophically, his dark eyes watching her carefully. "I don't think you know how to get back," he said at last. "And I do." She gave him a hot blue-white glare and clamped her wings close to her body, heatless flame streaming from her as if she were in a gale. After a moment of stony silence, she turned back to him resentfully, and spat "Where to now then, O fearless leader?" "We're not going back right now. But we are going to do a little exploring, darlin' girl. Come with me!" He tugged at her hand, then leapt lightly up into the air again, watching for signs of intelligent beings. Grudgingly, Altair followed him, double wingsails humming against atmospheric resistance. Strange. They've never made a noise before…. A tall column of dark smoke to the east made him blink. His flying partner noticed the roiling cloud too. "C'mon," she said, trying to sound sullen. Altair couldn't describe the sudden eagerness in her voice, however. "Might as well check it out, if you're exploring." They sped up a little and gained altitude, no longer skimming the rolling, sandy hills below. The smoke rose thick and ominous from a long, low two-story building, clustered amidst other elegant structures. Red-orange flames licked out from its windows. Someone was screaming inside. The luminaries hastened their flight, the lighter Tarazed outstripping Altair as they raced toward the building. He hovered before one window for a moment, getting his bearings. Then, with a flicker of wings, he was inside. It was hellish there. Blackened beams were barely visible through the smoke, and hungry flames lapped at the walls. Tarazed's own fire shone luridly crimson-and-orange against the paler earthly conflagration as he searched for the trapped being. He found them caught in a room where part of the floor had collapsed. There were two of them, young females. One was seated in a wheeled chair, her face pale with fever-spots high on her cheeks; the other was frantically trying to bridge the gaping, fire-filled chasm in the floor to get the woman across. Lightly, he bounded across the gap. Behind him, he heard the noise of Altair coming in the window. The girls did not look as though the flames did not affect them. The standing girl shrank from him as he reached for her, but Tarazed was not to be deterred. "Here," he shouted across the roar of the flames, gathering the smaller being into his arms and tossing her across the gulf to Altair. The taller luminary had a much larger wingspan, and she was unable to get to the tiny rectangle of floor. Deftly, she caught the terrified young woman, letting her blue-white hair fall over the human's face to screen out the smoke. Within seconds, she had vanished into the black haze within the house. Tarazed approached the other girl, wings waving gently. She glared at him from mismatched eyes: one slate and one olive green. Clearly, she said, "I'm not going." The luminary blinked. Her voice was peculiarly flat, but its content was more surprising than its timbre. "The building is burning." She set her chin stubbornly, wheeling her chair in a little circle. "I'm not coming. I don't care what kind of angel you are, or what kind of paradise you're taking me to, I'm not going. I'm not finished." Tarazed swore softly to himself. "I'm not coming to take you away. You're not dead yet, although if you hang around here too much longer you will be! Now come on, girl!" Grimly, he reached to pluck her out of the chair. At the last moment, she jerked her upper body away, slashing her cheek on the pointed nails of his other hand. "For pity's sake…" He picked her up, wheelchair and all, and leapt clumsily over the gap, landing as lightfootedly as he could. The scorched timbers groaned and shuddered under their doubled weight, and he made haste toward the promising half-circle of cool blue sky. Wood scraped beneath his feet, shifted…but the floor did not betray him. It was the roof that came tumbling in, an avalanche of beams and tiles and flame. All he could do before the whole structure came crushing down on him was to engulf the girl in his wings, holding her close as all hell rushed in. The weight of the roof broke the floor. He could feel it sagging beneath his feet. If he had possessed the doubled wings of a higher luminary, he could have still battered his way out. But the girl had to be kept safe. He could not draw in his wings, nor beat them to escape… Tarazed plummeted into the inferno below. Altair watched in stunned silence as the entire house imploded, gushing flames through smashed windows. Soot and sparks scattered like spores, stretching to seed nearby structures with their wrath. After a while, everything was still. Only the fire danced on over the ruins of the house. "Tarazed?" The house cracked and hissed as it continued to burn. Altair, with a wild-eyed look at the dumbly staring crowd, leapt toward it. Scrabbling frantically, she threw beams aside, heaving bricks and slate tiles in clattering cascades. The soft luminescence of her skin was broken by brick and timber until opalescent fire dripped down her arms and fell to break upon the ground. "Tarazed!" she called, over and over. "Tarazed!" until she was hoarse. For the hour that the luminary dug, not one person turned to go. It was too incredible, too horrific, too heart-rending a sight. But there was many a closed and weary eye when the angel of pale fire cried out a discovery. Crouched in a nest of broken timbers, broken wings wrapped around a bent human form, Tarazed looked back at her and smiled as his beloved wept. "I knew you'd come for me," he said quietly. His eyes, glassy and dilated with shock, never blinked. Altair tenderly extracted him from his fire-barred prison, and lifted him and his charge easily. With a businesslike motion, she separated girl from luminary and set Tarazed's rescuee down at her family's feet. Then, deliberately, she started flying, Tarazed still clutched in her arms. They skimmed the clouds in silence for a while, bemused. "That was a coal-brained thing to do," Altair said at last, watching for the next sign of habitation. "Yes," he agreed, eyelids fluttering. "Unavoidable." She glanced at him, eyes narrowed. "Don't you go nova on me, Tarazed Aquila. I want to go home." The broken luminary gave a little breathless laugh. "Nice to know you care." He relaxed in her arms, and soon slept, despite the pain of his trailing wings. When she was sure that the red-orange star was well asleep, Altair brushed a fiery strand from his cool forehead. "That was the bravest, stupidest thing I ever saw," she told his eyelids. Tarazed smiled faintly in his sleep as his beloved flew on.