Zauvek whispered, “Their problems are not ours. They will meet struggles in this broken life, ones they must endure or overcome.”
Waremasu’s hat slowly swiveled toward Zauvek, and the impenetrable darkness peered down at the old angel.
“Do not,” Zauvek said again. “It is not our concern. Look, even their own don’t rise to aid those in danger. Their lights remain extinguished and their fear overwhelming as they hide in their shadows.”
Waremasu looked back at the dark houses and saw what Zauvek spoke of; not one human emerged to assist those who screamed.
Another girl’s shriek sounded; a loud clash of wood was heard from down the road.
The old woman could be heard screaming. “Please, don’t hurt her! She’s just five! No, give her back! Fraya!”
Waremasu’s hat slowly swiveled back toward Zauvek, and the old angel’s eyes widened as he saw the bright irises burning through darkness, changing colors. Zauvek raised a hand up at his volatile ally and hesitated in fear. He didn’t know what to say to diffuse the situation.
Waremasu turned away and stepped out onto the road, walking down the path toward the screams. As he neared the commotion, a deep guttural grunting could be heard. The screams suddenly died down, and a silence rose.
A figure emerged from the shadows of night, walking toward Waremasu. A massive, ugly orc dragged two little girls by their ankles. The girls were unconscious and bled from cuts on their little faces. Two large axes hung on either side of the orc’s waist, latched to its belt. Torn clothes peeked out from underneath its formidable battle armor, which was littered with cuts from battle. Three snaggle teeth jutted out of its disfigured jaw.
The orc’s dead stare met Waremasu’s intense gaze.
The angel stopped and stood in the orc’s way.
The orc sniffed its snotty nostrils and grunted unkindly. It stopped and dropped the little girls’ ankles, then gripped its axes and unlatched them from its belt. Several of its joints popped as it prepared for a fight. The orc lifted its head and grunted loudly, then spoke several words in its guttural orc language.
Waremasu stood still.
Heavy footsteps were heard from his left and right. He glanced in either direction from the corners of his eyes, noticing several more massive orcs emerging from the dark shadows between houses, all with similar battle-worn armor and barbaric weapons: a four-foot log with metal spikes, two with axes, another with a horse rider’s long spear.
A cough was heard behind the orc in front of him, and a crying rose down the road.
Waremasu peered around the orc and watched an old woman stumbling toward them.
She cried out. “Please, stranger, save my granddaughters! They’ll eat them or worse!”
She tripped and held a hand out toward Waremasu in desperation, blood soaking her ragged clothing. “Please!”
Waremasu watched as another orc walked up behind her and sneered at him. Its drool-covered jowls parted as it growled words in the orc tongue. The lead orc before Waremasu answered. It lifted its spear and raised its edge toward the old woman’s back.
In time so quick that it was imperceptible, Waremasu appeared before the orc who was attacking the old woman, his hand squeezing its throat and holding its form off the ground as its feet dangled below.
The lead orc was still staring at Waremasu when it heard the noise and looked back, seeing Waremasu behind it as well. The orc blinked and shook its head, then looked forward again to see that Waremasu had vanished from his previous position.
The orcs were stunned at the visual anomaly; the stranger had momentarily been in two places at once.
Waremasu stared into the spear orc’s eyes with his vibrant, changing irises glowing in the dark. The orc began choking from the air-denying grip. The beast dropped its spear and clawed at the hand around its throat in desperation.
The lead orc roared and barked a command in the orc tongue; the other orcs charged Waremasu, weapons up. They snorted and growled.
Waremasu turned around without releasing the captive orc’s neck. He lowered it but did not let go. It kicked and swung its arms wildly in defiance, veins rising on its face. He glanced down at the gasping orc as he warred inside between benevolence and malevolence. He hesitated.
The orcs neared.
Before his captive would draw a last breath, Waremasu released the orc, and it fell on its back, writhing for air as its lungs opened up. Then he light-stepped with such speed that he appeared in five places at once around the charging orcs.
Their eyes widened, and they tripped and slid in awkward directions, caught off guard by the stranger’s ability.
Four images of Waremasu disappeared as the moment ended, and the final Waremasu stood between them as they all faced outward in a circle. He tapped the lead orc on the shoulder. It turned around with bewilderment and grunted at the others, and they all spun around.
Too slow.
Waremasu thrust a palm into the chest of the lead orc, and it shot backward, limbs trailing, weapons tumbling in the air. He turned and with a palm struck each of their chests, mimicking the same result. They all raced backward in unison and tumbled across the dirt to a rolling stop.
The air had been knocked out of them, and they struggled to regain the ability to breathe as they rolled over and found their hands and knees. They coughed and stood after a few moments. They fumed, and rage boiled beneath their skin as they stared at Waremasu.
A slow metallic ring sounded as Waremasu unsheathed his katana, letting it rest in length at his side.
The lead orc grunted and spit on the ground, then spoke in the orc tongue in a defeated tone. The orcs backed away, leaving their weapons where they lay. They left the girls and old woman lying on the road as their forms backed away into the dark of night. Their heavy footsteps faded as Waremasu watched the dark shadows with a focused stare.
His irises glowed.
“Waremasu,” Zauvek said quietly.
The internally raging angel turned toward Zauvek, who slowly stepped in his direction with hands held out in a calming manner.
“Waremasu, calm yourself,” Zauvek said. “They have gone.”
Waremasu’s gaze lowered for a moment, irises still glowing. The dark part of his soul resisted.
“Look at the girls. You protected them. You did well.” Zauvek hesitated as he saw his ally struggling to control himself inside. “It is time to settle. The danger is no more.”
A moment passed, then Waremasu breathed deeply and released his tension. The glow in his irises diminished into the dark shroud once more. The katana slid back into its sheath, and the tumultuous soul became stoic again.
“Good.” Zauvek breathed in relief. “Do you want to help them with their wounds?”
The conical hat dipped in confirmation.
“Then grab them and bring them,” Zauvek said, not wanting to defy Waremasu.
The old angel walked down the road to find the home they were pulled from and to prepare a space for tending to them. Zauvek was unsure of how to handle Waremasu, and a growing concern bothered him. His ally’s volatility might prove problematic in the days to come, but what choice did he have? His power was fragmented and incomplete. He was no longer capable of what he once was, while he resided in the breath and grace of the Divine One.
Zauvek spotted the old woman’s house, its door busted in. He walked up the house’s front steps and stepped inside. A table with two broken legs lay toppled in the middle of the room, the chairs scattered around, and one of the beds was thrown against the wall.
He walked over to the bed and tried to pull it over, but it was stuck in the wall. He glanced at the headboard, which had actually cut through the wall and was sticking out the other side. He pulled again, harder this time. The headboard burst out of the wall, ripping a larger hole in the wall as the bed left its hold.
A slight breeze entered through the slender opening.
Zauvek righted the bed onto its legs and situated it back w
here he thought it might have been originally.
Waremasu walked through the broken front door with a girl over each shoulder. Zauvek tilted his head in a beckoning motion, and his ally placed the girls on the beds.
Waremasu then walked out the door again.
Zauvek looked at the girls and checked their breathing, their eyes, and for any blood. The girls both had cuts on their faces, and one had blood on her legs, though no broken bones. Their eyes were responsive, and their breathing was clear, yet they remained unconscious.
Waremasu walked back inside with the old woman in his arms. He placed the grandmother in another bed.
“How is she?” Zauvek asked his companion.
An orange script appeared in the air before Zauvek, written by Waremasu: Unconscious. Bleeding from her side. A growing haze in her eyes.
“Look for any healing supplies in the cupboards,” Zauvek said.
While Waremasu searched the room, Zauvek moved over to the girl with blood soaking her lower dress and legs. He searched one leg, nothing. Then he searched the other and found a laceration along the back side of her calf. He turned her on her side and inspected the deep wound closely. It still bled, quickly; she did not have much longer.
“Anything?” Zauvek asked impatiently.
No answer came; Waremasu was still searching the room.
“Check the neighboring houses, now. She will die soon,” he said.
Waremasu disappeared instantly.
Zauvek rolled the girl onto her back once more. He walked over to the old woman and inspected her side. A large piece of wood pierced her right abdomen. He grumbled, knowing she might not make it either. The wood could have pierced an organ.
Waremasu reappeared in the doorway with a trailing breeze.
Zauvek glanced at him. “Anything?”
The hat turned left, then right.
“Nothing? Are you sure?” Zauvek asked.
The hat tilted.
“There is no clinic or healers out here?” he wondered, “Shaman, anything?”
The hat turned left, then right again.
“Damn,” he said. “Two of them will die without a healer or medicine.”
Waremasu lowered his head.
“I am sorry, friend. Without the light, we are unable to heal them.”
Waremasu walked to the foot of the bed where the two girls lay. He lowered his head, and the hat tilted forward.
Zauvek shook his head in frustration and stood up. He placed a hand on Waremasu’s shoulder and said, “I am sorry.” He walked away and out the front door.
Waremasu stood still, in silence. Minutes passed.
He started to hear labored, quickened breathing from the little girl with the blood on her legs.
Whisperings began sounding from beneath his cloak; multiple voices echoed words in a language that no mortal would know. He spoke quietly, nothing more than voices mumbling sifted beyond the darkness.
The girl began to gasp for air as her breathing took a turn for the worse, shortening and lessening in frequency.
Waremasu continued his whisperings of many voices, raising his eyes to watch the little girl.
He watched her take a final gasp and a slow, forceless exhale.
Waremasu slammed a fist on the footboard of the bed, and his whisperings stopped.
Suddenly, a bright light filled the room and removed all shadow from within its four walls except the shroud surrounding Waremasu.
He turned around and saw what he had prayed for, undeserving. Through the darkness enveloping his form, he watched the holy angel hovering in the air effortlessly, wings spread wall to wall. Holy light radiated outward from its angelic form, clothed in flowing white cloth. The angel’s eyes were bathed in holy fire, its skin resembled flowing sheets of lightning, and its hair golden and bright with holy fire lacing its threads.
Any mortal would have fallen to their knees and cried out for mercy, knowing not from where the being hailed.
The holy angel spoke. “Waremasu Tamashii. You are far from grace, and you have betrayed this world, yet you pray for them. Do their lives mean so much to you?”
Waremasu nodded.
“Why?” The angel’s voice thundered.
Waremasu wrote on the air: They are innocent, harmed by monsters.
“No one is innocent. All do wrong in this world.”
Please save them. Let them be seeds of the light, let them do right.
“You will tell them of the light when they wake?” the angel asked.
Waremasu nodded.
“This would please him. Spread the light to their hearts; the faith will begin here. He protects all who believe in him.” The angel’s thunderous voice rolled.
Waremasu heard the little girl gasp for air and turned around to see her alive once more. The bright light vanished from the room, and the deep shadows of faint candlelight resumed. He glanced back and saw the holy angel was gone.
He walked over to the girls and inspected their wounds, which were now gone. He then moved over to the old woman and saw the wood in her side was no more; her wound was gone as well. The angel had healed them and protected them from the life-threatening injuries.
He knew what he must do, and so he waited for them to wake. Waremasu must tell them of the light above and what was done for them, how the Divine One saved them. A part of him was happy that the Divine One still answered his prayers and grateful for his mercy and grace.
There he waited until the three woke from their unconscious states. He would lay a seed of faith for them to spread, a word of hope.
Chapter 11
“The Unforeseen Discovery”
“Before the First Seal opens, fear will spread across Verdunmull as the realms of Heaven and Hell come. The mortals will bear witness to angels and demons as the war begins.”
The Ikalreev Prophecies 7:1–2
A burst of sunlight welcomed Faolan when he opened his eyes. His vision was blurry at first, and the bright light hurt. He blinked several times as he tried to focus through the intense sensation. Once his vision cleared, he looked around to see where he was as he had trouble remembering what had happened. The room looked familiar to him, but he could not quite place it. He thought for a moment as his eyes traced the room, and then he remembered. He was lying on a bench in Mor’s town hall, and as he looked around, he noticed Aili. She was checking his bandages, and a pile of bloody clothes was lying next to her. There was no one else in the room, just the two of them. Aili smiled when she noticed he had woken up.
“That was quite a scare you gave us,” Aili said.
“What happened?”
“You do not remember?” She inspected his forehead.
“Sort of. My memory is a bit foggy.” He tensed as she touched the recent injury while replacing the bandage.
“You saved us.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, really! You came charging in and brought down two Hyips before you collapsed.”
He raised an eyebrow in disbelief as he did not remember attacking the two beasts. He could remember his fight with the champion, but after their battle, his memory became brief flashes.
“Your dramatic entrance made a distraction, providing Treasach and Caedmon time to dispatch the others,” she said. “It was brilliant, and you saved the rest of us from getting injured. Not to mention taking care of that nasty champion all by yourself.”
Faolan smiled at her enthusiastic explanation.
She finished with her wound dressing and gathered all the bloody bandages into a neat pile to ready for disposal. The healer sighed in relief and relaxed now that his bandages were reapplied and he was awake.
“You were quite impressive.” Aili acknowledged his heroics and smiled warmly. “You caught my eye.”
The young guardian blushed and did not know what to say. He had never before met someone who was so forward. Female elves were usually reserved and closed to the idea of openly flirting. Her personality was different from th
e others, and he thought it was intriguing.
Aili giggled at his rosy cheeks and enjoyed his innocence. “All right, you are all set. I have to ask you to stay put. I cannot have your wounds opening back up. It has taken me long enough to wrap them.”
“Stay here? For how long?“
“Yes, and for a while.“
“But . . .“
She pinched him on the arm, and he yelped in pain.
“I do not want to hear it. Stay or I will tell your mother.“
He frowned in defeat. “Fine, I will stay.“
She tilted her head and smiled as she looked into his eyes. “Thank you, Faolan.“
“For what?“
“For defending us, my brother and me. I know it is your duty to look after us, but I wanted you to know how much I appreciate your protection.“
“I doubt you were in any real trouble with Caedmon there,“ he said humbly. “He is made from magic, right?“
“Yes, Ikalreev magic.“
He paused for a moment as he thought and wondered, “Why do you think he did not use his Ikalreev magic?“
Aili shrugged her shoulders uncertainly. “Perhaps you should ask him.”
He nodded and figured he would because he thought it was odd that the renowned Ikalreev guardian did not use his magic to protect those in danger.
“Thank you again,” she said. “For protecting me.”
Faolan looked at her beautiful face smiling down at him. He could not help but be captivated by her stunning beauty. The young guardian did not quite understand why he received the elf maiden’s warm attention because he was not actually an elf himself and did not have the same natural abilities as one either, though he quite enjoyed her interest.
“Aili, I will protect you until the day I die,” Faolan said, surprising himself with his forwardness.
Aili was caught off guard by the meaningful statement. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. She was not sure how to react and did not know what to say. The fair healer shyly smiled at him for a moment, and then instead of words, she answered with a soft kiss on his cheek. When she pulled away, a wide smile crossed Faolan’s face, and she laughed warmly at his expression. She stood up and lightly touched his shoulder in parting comfort, and then she walked out the front door and left the guardian to wait.
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