by BC Powell
The Aerodyne immediately aims his eyes at Sash, his pupils a multitude of swirling colors. At least eight feet tall, the shirtless man is built like a world-class bodybuilder. His skin is bronze, absent of hair, and shimmers as though a semi-gloss paint was sprayed all over him. Except for the natural skirt of white feathers that hangs from his waist to the middle of his thighs, he’s entirely unclothed. Instead of feet, enormous talons extend from his ankles and grip the dirt.
A crest of long, cherry-red feathers run like a mohawk from his forehead to the back of his neck, but his head is otherwise bald and smooth. His face is chiseled and handsome—I’d almost describe him as beautiful—much like the famed Adonis of Greek mythology. His tightly flexed muscles and fisted hands leave no doubt how furious he is.
Clutching my shirt with both of her hands, Maya steps behind me. She peeks around my side to look at the Aerodyne as Sash bows her head to the creature. Although Sash doesn’t pull her spear out of the ground, her hand remains firmly clenched to the shaft, and the muscles of her arm are rigid.
“Greetings, Chasmatu,” she says.
“Why are you in my domain?” he bellows in a voice so deep and booming that it sends shockwaves through my bones.
Chapter 31
Without showing any apprehension or fear, Sash raises her face to Chasmatu. “I’m not in your domain,” she says graciously. “My spear is.”
“Your hand is touching the spear!” he roars.
“I didn’t want to leave something from the Delta in your land.” She pulls her spear from the ground and rests the tip on the dirt by her side. “I was afraid you might find it inconsiderate. I was showing the child how to throw a spear, but throwing a weapon isn’t a skill practiced much by Hunters.”
Considering her response, Chasmatu continues to scowl at Sash. As I replay her explanation in my mind, I realize how carefully Sash chose her words. She implied that it was an errant throw, which I know it wasn’t, but never said anything that was a flat out lie.
“What is that creature behind you?” Chasmatu asks.
“A child of the Delta,” she answers.
“Not that one!”
“A Traveler of Krymzyn.”
Chasmatu shoots a scathing stare in my direction and examines my face. “His eyes are an unnatural color. He was not born in this world. A creature from another plane of existence has no place in Krymzyn.”
“The Tree of Vision disagrees,” Sash says evenly.
“The Tree of Vision has no bearing on my existence,” he says gruffly, keeping his eyes fixed on me. “The Origin’s vision for this world is my covenant.”
“If The Origin doesn’t want him here,” Sash says, “The Origin can return from the Infinite Expanse and say so. But the Tree of Vision has made it clear that this man has a purpose in Krymzyn.”
Apparently angered by Sash’s argument, Chasmatu’s wings flutter and the muscles in his arms strain to the point that his veins look like they’re about to explode out of his skin. Tightening her grip on my shirt, Maya buries her face in the center of my back.
“I’m Chase,” I say to Chasmatu, trying to be polite, “Traveler of Krymzyn.”
“I care not what your name is!’ he retorts. “Thousands of Travelers have passed through my Gateway over immeasurable time. Names are of no consequence to me.”
I want to tell him that I was just doing what I’d been instructed to do when meeting a Guardian, but before I can reply, Sash holds a hand up in my direction to silence me.
“We came to seek your help,” she says. “It’s a matter of great importance. Your many gifts may prove beneficial to us.”
Chasmatu glowers at me for another few moments and then snaps his head to Sash. “What matter?”
“A young female Traveler has been lost in this area of the Barrens, although she probably looks like a Murkovin now. Perhaps you or the other Aerodyne have seen her near your domain.”
“I see an occasional Murkovin, but none have stood out.”
“You might recognize her,” she says. “I know she chose your Gateway for her journey to the Infinite Expanse. Her name is Tela. Larn, the tallest of the Travelers, was her guide to the Expanse.”
“Did you not hear what I told the Traveler about names?” he grumbles.
“I thought you might have heard their names in passing,” she replies. “It’s customary for them to announce their names to you at the Stone of Passage. I know your memory is without flaw.”
For the first time since he arrived, probably from Sash’s gentle ego-stroking, Chasmatu relaxes his muscles. “I do recall those two entering the Expanse, but I have not seen anyone who resembles her since.”
“I’m grateful for your information,” she replies.
Sash suddenly looks up as another winged creature descends from the sky. Maya peeks around my side and gazes up at him. With broad, effortless circles, he glides down on fully extended wings. When he nears us, he elegantly flaps his wings until his feet touch the ground with a much softer landing than Chasmatu’s. Standing a few feet from Chasmatu, the Aerodyne retracts his wings and bows to Sash.
“Greetings, Hunter,” he says. “How can I serve you.”
The second Aerodyne’s voice, like Chasmatu’s, is so deep and rich that it sends tremors through my body. But unlike Chasmatu, his tone is absent of any hostility. I’d describe him as cordial, an obvious contrast to Chasmatu’s menacing demeanor. Sash returns his bow.
“We’re honored by your presence, Angelicusepte,” she says as she returns to upright. “We’re in search of a missing Traveler.”
“The only Traveler I have seen since the last who journeyed to the Infinite Expanse is standing behind you now.” Angelicusepte looks in my direction. The kaleidoscope of colors in his eyes is almost hypnotic. “Greetings, Traveler. Greetings, child of Krymzyn. I welcome you to the edge of our domain.”
“Greetings,” I reply. “I’m honored to be here.”
“Hello,” Maya timidly squeaks.
In the same way that the Serquatine all look like sisters, Angelicusepte and Chasmatu are almost identical in appearance. The only distinct difference between them is that the plume of feathers on Angelicusepte’s head is canary-yellow instead of red. Just as each of the Serquatine has one of the seven colors of the rainbow illuminating the ends of their hair, the feathered crests of the different Aerodyne must be the same seven colors. Based on how polar opposite the personalities of Chasmatu and Angelicusepte are, I assume these creatures display different dispositions in the same way as the Schorachnia.
“The Traveler may now be a Murkovin,” Sash says to Angelicusepte. “She had no choice but to survive on wild sap. You might recognize her since she used your Gateway for her journey to the Infinite Expanse.”
“I occasionally see a Murkovin from the air,” he tells her, “but few ever venture near our domain. I have not seen the one you mention.”
“She may have had a steel transport with her,” I say. “I doubt many Murkovin would have one with them.”
Angelicusepte looks at me again. “You are correct. Rarely do the Murkovin we see near our domain have items of steel, but I did see something rather curious. It was a female Murkovin with a steel transport. From my vantage point in the clouds, I could not make out the detail of her face, but she had no blue in her hair.”
“Where did you see her?” I ask.
“East of the river,” he answers. “She was about a third of the way to the eastern barrier and a few miles north of our domain.”
“How long ago?” Sash asks.
He returns his attention to her. “At least forty Darknesses have passed since I saw her.”
“Your information is extremely helpful,” she says. “Thank you for sharing it with us.”
“I hope it helps with your search.”
Sash bows to the two Aerodyne. “Thank you, Angelicusepte. Thank you, Chasmatu. I appreciate your kindness.”
As they return her bow, I reach behind me and push Maya out to
my side. She and I bow to the two Aerodyne. After we all return to upright, Sash motions for Maya and me to follow her. The three of us walk to the north.
“Hunter!” Chasmatu calls out. We all stop and turn to him. “I doubt your spear has ever landed anywhere other than exactly where you intended it to.”
“Then I’ll make sure to never aim it at you,” she replies.
The way Sash interacts with the Guardians is fascinating. She’s not afraid to stand up to them by fighting intimidation with intimidation, but she’s also respectful and gracious. More than anything else, she knows precisely how to speak to them to get what she wants.
Chasmatu walks away without saying anything else to Sash, but as he heads to the south, he glances over his winged shoulder at her. He studies her for a moment with what appears to be approval in his eyes. It’s as though he respects her for taking a verbal jab at him, and maybe even for her initial deception to summon him from the sky.
After looking away from Sash, Chasmatu charges towards the cliffs. Angelicusepte sprints behind him across the rocky terrain. Their wings spread from their backs, lifting their bronzed bodies into the air. Side by side, a mirror image of one other, they arc across the sky towards the river. When they reach the edge of the Great Falls, they dive straight down and disappear into the thick mist.
“They are spectacular creatures,” I comment.
“Yes, they are,” Sash says. “I should warn you, though. Stay away from the black feathers on the ends of their wings.”
“Why?” I ask.
“They’re as hard as steel and as sharp as a knife. They can slice a person in half.”
“That’s good to know,” I say. “But other than that, they seem pretty harmless.”
“What?” Maya asks, not understanding my sarcasm. “Chasmatu is the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. Even scarier than the Schorachnia.”
“He can be a bit frightening,” Sash says to Maya, “but as I said earlier, even if this is hard on you, you’re getting to experience Krymzyn in a way that only the Travelers can.”
Maya nods her head. “I know. I feel fortunate about that. It just upsets me that it’s because Tela is lost.”
“The person Angelicusepte saw must have been Tela,” I say to Sash.
“I think so, too,” she says. “Tela could have taken the transport over the Stone Crossing and then gone to the southeast. She knows as well as anyone that very few Murkovin dwell close to the Aerodyne’s domain.”
“I think we should move our search east of the river,” I suggest.
“I agree,” Sash replies. “The next time we take Maya out, we’ll begin on the other side of the Great Falls and work our way to the east. We don’t have time this morrow to go all the way up to the Stone Crossing and back down the other side of the river.”
“No,” I say. “And there’s something important we need to do with Aven when we get back to the Delta.”
“What is it?” Sash asks.
“I’ll tell you after we pick her up from Home.”
Chapter 32
“Happy birthday dear Aven,” I sing. “Happy birthday to you.”
Aven beams a smile at me and claps her little hands together. “Tank-u, Daddy!”
Sitting with Aven on the floor of her room, Sash and I take turns hugging our daughter. Before launching into the song, I’d spent a few minutes explaining to Aven and Sash how we celebrate birthdays on Earth.
At a year old, Aven’s hair has grown long enough that it hangs to her shoulders in waves of thick, shiny ebony. Her body is lean and toned, and her movements deliberate and graceful. Any time I watch Aven in an activity, I feel as though I have a glimpse of what Sash must have been like as a child.
Even though Aven’s pronunciation isn’t always perfect, her vocabulary would be impressive for a three-year-old on Earth. She can only put a few words together at a time, yet comprehends most of what Sash and I say to her. If she doesn’t understand something, more times than not, it’s because she pretends not to—especially when Sash and I tell her to stop doing something that she knows she shouldn’t be doing. Her strong will, for better or worse, is just like her mother’s.
“I have something for you,” I say to Aven. “I’ll be right back.”
I walk to the main cavern to retrieve the birthday present I made for Aven. During the months that we’ve been searching for Tela, I’ve used the evenings on morrows we didn’t go to the Barrens to secretly work on it. It was the only way I could free my mind of the ever-increasing mental distress from not finding Tela.
As I return to Aven’s room, I hide the handmade notebook behind my back. Wren made the front and back covers out of smooth steel plates and used metal pins to secure canvas sheets between them. On the front cover, I carefully painted three words in my finest script—Aven’s First Year.
“This is really for both of you,” I say, sitting down between Sash and Aven. “It’s called a baby book in my world. It’s a collection of things that serve as a reminder of important events in a child’s early life.”
After I lay the book down on the floor, Sash and Aven both gaze at it with thoughtful smiles on their faces. I open the front cover and reveal the first page. The sheet of canvas has a black and white sketch of a pregnant Sash standing in front of Ovin’s tree. Depicting the scene from the Darkness when I felt our daughter kick for the first time, one branch of the tree rests in the palm of Sash’s outstretched hand. Sash’s other hand is pressed to the curve of her stomach.
Thumbing through the pages, I show them a series of drawings of Aven over the past year. Each image has a short written description of the various milestones in her life. Aven as a baby in Sash’s arms, Aven crawling across the floor of our cavern, Aven standing beside Kyra at the entrance to Home, and Aven taking her first steps on the Empty Hill are each sketched on a separate page.
Sewn to one sheet of canvas is a small lock of Aven’s hair that I cut off several months ago while she was sleeping. Intermixed with my drawings, I included a few of Aven’s finger paintings and a traced sketch of her hand that I made when she was six months old.
“Boo-i-ful pitchers, Daddy!” Aven gasps.
“I’m really glad you like them,” I say to her. After leaning over to kiss her forehead, I turn to Sash. “I’ll teach Aven to read the words. I want her to be able to read the alphabet . . . the symbols we use in my world for words. If you want to learn, I can teach you at the same time.”
“I’d like that,” she replies. “I can’t believe how much time it must have taken you to make this.”
“I enjoyed every moment of it. Living it first, and then re-living it while making the book.”
Sash slips an arm around my waist and lays her head on my shoulder, the first physical affection she’s shown to me since our hug before I went to the Reflecting Pool months ago. I reach one arm around her, pull her close to me, and rest my head against hers.
She’s been friendly with me over the months that have passed, but I wouldn’t describe her interaction with me as loving. We’ve searched for Tela, coexisted in the same habitat, played with our daughter, and gone to sleep in the same bed at the end of each morrow. But it’s been a purely platonic relationship. I’ve been waiting for her to let me know that we’re on the path to repair. Maybe this is the first step.
Aven jumps up from the floor and throws one arm around Sash’s neck and the other around mine. For the first time in recent memory, I feel a genuine sense of happiness.
“I like birfday!” Aven squeals.
“It’s your special morrow,” I say.
“Sleep wif Mommy and Daddy?” she asks.
“Of course,” I answer.
After looking through the baby book again, we all get ready for bed. Sandwiched in between Sash and me, Aven passes out as soon as the light fades away. I reach a hand over her body and rest it on Sash’s shoulder. I’m a little surprised that Sash doesn’t lay a hand on mine or react in any way, but at least she doesn’t
push it away. I take that as a positive sign.
On our next search with Maya, we begin east of the river near the southern barrier to the Infinite Expanse. Feeling like we finally have a solid lead as to where Tela might be, all three of us start the morrow in high spirits. We use a much slower pace than usual while working our way to the east and allow Maya a little extra time on the ground at each stop. In addition to Maya trying to sense something, Sash and I complete thorough searches of the hills around any trees we see.
Several more weeks pass in the southeastern Barrens without us finding any signs of Tela. The glimmer of hope that we had from Angelicusepte’s information gradually fades away. Again and again, I replay Sash’s words from months ago in my head.
“The longer she’s in the Barrens, the less likely it is we’ll ever see her again.”
At the end of one morrow, I finally make another visit to the Reflecting Pool. Standing in the aqua light, I ask the water if Tela is alive. I see the same image of Tela sitting alone in front of a tree. When I ask if there’s a way to find her, the Pool again shows me Maya. I also remember Eval’s words about an unasked question, so I ask the Pool if I will find Tela. The only image the glassy water displays in response to that question is my reflection.
When Sash and I drop Maya off at the end of our search morrows with her, we both notice the toll it’s taking on her. Even with our every third morrow procedure, the bags under Maya’s eyes have become permanent fixtures and her complexion has become increasingly sallow. I’m sure in addition to the physical stress, the mental burden of being shown to me in the Reflecting Pool weighs heavier and heavier on her mind. Although she never complains, her mood becomes more and more despondent. Sash and I try to restore her confidence with frequent praise for her efforts, but I realize that she’s losing the last of her hope.
In the same way that I recognize the toll the search is taking on Maya, I see the wear and tear on Sash’s face. Although she never says anything, I know the morrows away from Aven are hard on her.