The Sky's the Limit

On the eve of his death, lying among the pale blues and greys of his deathbed, an old man woke from a weary sleep to find himself surrounded by the muted weeping of kith and kin. Rising above the sounds of quiet sorrow were the droning prayers of final priests; it was the presence of those solemn heralds that stirred within his tired body a flicker of anger.

Curse them all, he wasn't dead yet!

Perhaps he should use his last moments of life to speak guiding wisdom to his sons and daughters, his grandchildren and close friends. But, alas, he found that he had no words left to bestow upon those who had colored his long life with joy and sadness. All he had needed to say he had long since said; he had mended bridges that needed mending and forgiven wrongs that had been committed against him.

His soul was prepared for the Ever Journey; the mourners grieved for themselves, not him.

Unable to abide with the dismal noise that filled his comfortable lodgings he pulled from the depths of his faded memories his most cherished of pastimes. He closed his eyes and found himself staring out at the blue, blue horizon with nothing between him and it save for a teasing breeze. An endless stretch of cloudless skies and freedom beckoned to him and he felt its call pulling at his spirit as strong as ever.

That which he perched upon shifted, tilted and an age-old instinct tightened muscles throughout his body to keep his balance steady and unwavering. The urge of anticipation built higher and higher, deep within his chest his tired heart skipped a beat. Mist caressed his face, brushed phantom kisses across his cheeks, while a gentle wind murmured encouragement and welcome.

"Beloved..."

That voice... that blessed, blessed voice... Time had not been kind to his ears, neither had his eyes been exempt from its passage, but he would know that voice no matter how much time took from him.

He opened his eyes to stare up at the dark ceiling of his crowded bedchamber; around him the mourners continued their whispered wailing and the priests moved through their invocations. "She calls me," He said to no one in particular and was rewarded by strangled sob from some faceless griever.

Nonsense... they carried on as if he were going to his death.

Didn't they see? Didn't they understand? After year upon torturous year of being tied to the land he was finally returning to the very pursuit that had ruled his every thought, his every dream.

And she was there, waiting for him.

Ah... how beautiful she was, how proud and strong she remained. Tucked within the shelter of his memories, though the years had dulled most of them, she was as timeless as the horizon he yearned for. It had been an honor, a gods gifted privilege, to have it known that she was his. Even when she was gone, taken from him too soon by a cold twist of fate, he had never desired another. The craving, the lust, for the open blue had been dulled down to an ever present longing; without her it just wasn't worth the joy.

The more he lost himself in her memory, the further away he drifted from the monotonous sounds that encompassed him. The ragged crying became the steady whistle of air rushing past his ears. Droning prayers were replaced with the deep echo of something like heavy canvas unfurling and capturing the free flying wind.

So close... it was all so close! Like the key to a prisoner's manacles hung just a hair's breadth out of reach, he was so close to his own freedom that it was nigh on unbearable.

Then, without warning, he was flung up toward the open sky. Before his muddled thoughts could make sense of it all his hands reached out and grasped hold the length of rough rope before him. As the earth struggled to hold fast its claim to his form, it came to him that his bones did not protest the stress placed upon them. No longer were his hands gnarled and if they shook it was from the surge of exhilaration that coursed through him. The horizon before him was clear and infinite, not hazy and indefinite; the heartbeat that pulsed in his ears was strong and steady.

"Welcome back, Beloved..."

It was almost too good to be true, this dream; but it was not a dream, he knew, for this was his Ever Journey. Pure joy filled him as he looked down and saw her beneath him, her midnight wings curling up and forward to cup the wind and cast them forward toward the horizon. Sunlight glinted off the glistening hide that stretched over rippling sinew as she carried him back up into the cloudless heavens that had been denied him for so long. She felt his delight, his relief, and craned her graceful head around on her arching neck to peer at him with a golden eye alight with dancing amusement.

"We've all the time in the world, Beloved, and the sky's the limit... where do we sail for?"

a/n: Did anyone figure out just what the old man once was? Or did I miss the target with this one? Lemme know, please?