by Jason Tesar
Zacol’s eyes were closed and her head was lifted slightly. She pursed her lips, but remained silent. Without another word, she stepped past him and walked away.
CHAPTER 2
OUTSIDE LAENINGAR
THE BORDERLANDS OF THE ETERNAL REALM
A luminescent trail of blood meandered along the soil. Its path was erratic, disturbed occasionally by footprints on one side and lateral scuff marks on the other. Sariel tried his best to deny the fact that somewhere, on the other end of the glowing line of evidence they were leaving behind, the demonic hordes were tracking them. It would hardly be a difficult task.
The liquid light that coursed through angelic veins would have been lost against the radiant backdrop of their own territory. But they were now behind enemy lines, and the dark, barren soil of this place only made their presence blatantly obvious.
“Come on,” Sariel said, bearing almost all of Amthardel’s weight.
The Iryllur was looking paler by the second. His legs were covered in his own blood, spilling freely from the gash on the left side of his abdomen.
They both knew it was fatal. But Sariel didn’t want Amthardel dying in a place like this. As he hefted the soldier across the rough soil, he looked down into the valley to the north, seeking solace in the iridescent forest now less than a mile away.
“It’s beautiful. You’ll see,” he assured his friend.
Painful seconds lengthened into excruciating minutes while the two soldiers hobbled across the land. In this Eternal Realm, where even light and sound were immortal and the passage of time was irrelevant, Sariel was oddly aware of every moment. It truly felt like an eternity before they crossed the line that separated the territory of the Holy from the Unholy. Finally leaving behind the desolate, shadowy realm of the demons, the two Iryllurym descended into the protection of the towering trees.
~
Thick grasses grew tall around the water that roamed peacefully through the flat lands below, fed by an underground spring. From the rich soil, the surrounding trees grew massive, like giant sentinels keeping watch over the glen. Their leaves danced in the breeze, the shimmering outlines scattering a multitude of green hues in every direction. In concert with this rhythmic motion were the lingering echoes of songs that seemed intertwined with the very spirit of this sacred place. As the gentle passage of air rippled the surface of the lake, melodies were stirred up and tossed along the glassy swells, colliding with harmonies that had been lying dormant for years.
But all of this, Sariel had seen countless times before. Now, in the last moments of Amthardel’s life, the only thing he noticed was the distant look in the eyes of the Iryllur sitting next to him.
“You were right,” Amthardel said. “This is a good place to die.”
Sariel clenched his fists, but kept his eyes fixed on the face of his soldier.
Amthardel took a deep breath, then winced. “Don’t let them win,” he said, turning his head. For a brief moment, his eyes seemed to brighten with clarity and that faraway look disappeared.
Sariel wanted to say something. But words were insufficient. Instead, he closed his mouth and nodded—a silent promise. Then, they both turned and looked out over the waters of Laeningar, the Valley of Healing.*
Why do we keep doing this? How long are we supposed to watch each other die? Is there even victory on the other side of this war?
One after another, faces sprang into Sariel’s mind. Iryllur. Anduar. Vidir. Soldiers. Friends. He closed his eyes, but the memories only became more vivid. Ages of loss concentrated into one moment. When he opened his eyes, tears rolled down his cheeks.
Amthardel was leaning more heavily on him now. Gently, Sariel pulled his arm out from underneath his friend’s and leaned away to look into the face of the soldier who had been with him through countless battles. The angel’s eyes were closed and the pale light that shone beneath his skin only moments ago had now faded.
In the distance, a faint howl sounded. It echoed through the valley, a chilling reminder of the enemy’s relentless aggression.
Sariel remained seated on the shore, holding the last member of his team. Despite the peaceful rhythm of dancing leaves and soothing melodies of trickling water, this sacred valley failed to ease his constricted throat. He could still see the confused faces of his soldiers. Their innocent questions reverberated in his ears.
And what did I tell them? That everything would be fine. That this mission was just like all the rest.
These were all the same words that Sariel had heard from his own superiors. He regurgitated them just as a loyal soldier ought. And in the end, they turned out to be lies. As he gently lowered Amthardel’s body to the grass, he noticed the cuts and scrapes on his own forearms.
Why was I spared?
Why were his injuries so miniscule by comparison? Why was he the only survivor when he was the one who led them to their deaths?
Another howl echoed through the valley.
Reaching down, Sariel pried a vaepkir from the now stiff fingers of his friend. Amthardel had clutched it tight until the very end, a testament to his unwavering determination to fight. Lifting the weapon from the pool of blood beside his soldier, Sariel held it tight and felt the weight of it in his hand. He examined the three sharpened talons that diverged from the primary blade to cover his knuckles. Even in the near formlessness of the Borderlands, the weapon still appeared graceful. On the other end, at the very tip of the deadly instrument of war, the dark stains of demon blood marred its otherwise gleaming surface.
Another howl sounded. It was only a few hundred feet away and now accompanied by snorting and heavy breathing.
Sariel stood up and walked a few paces away from the water, facing the direction of the forest where the howling had come from. He realized now that his silent promise to Amthardel only moments ago might also have been a lie.
Don’t let them win. Don’t let the demons win. But I can’t control the outcome. I promised all of them that it would be just like every other mission. And I couldn’t control that either!
What he would normally push aside for a more convenient time, he allowed himself to feel. It had been a pointless battle; an utter failure and a staggering waste of resources. He and his soldiers had no business being pulled into that operation. Now, he was the only one left of a highly-trained and specialized group of soldiers. More than that, they had been his last remaining friends—the only ones he had trusted, and the only ones who had trusted him. And now, he was alone.
Sariel’s hand began to shake. Only then did he notice the bulging knuckles and strained tendons of the fingers that had unconsciously tightened around the hilt of the weapon—a blade that had ended the tortured lives of innumerable demons.
Shadows moved between the trees, keeping just out of sight. They were waiting for something.
Sariel remained still. His body, rigorously trained by ages of conflict, reacted with a simple determination. There would be no more running. Amthardel had died in a place of peace and beauty; not in the wasteland of the demons. That objective had been met. And now, while his thoughts were consumed, his winged, warrior form readied itself for its last stand. This would be the end.
Suddenly, the whole forest darkened. Demons poured from between the dense trees and came into the open in one coordinated movement, blocking the radiance of the woods with their emptiness. Their bodies were collections of nothingness, reflecting no light. Instead, as the negative mass of each demon moved in front of an object, the light around it distorted and bent inward.
Small shapes crawled over the ground on four legs. Their talons dug into the soil as their elongated snouts inhaled loudly, taking in the scent of their prey. In the trees above, larger, flying creatures settled on the branches, extending their angular wings to either side. In between the darker sections of structural bone, the thin membranes that made up their wings absorbed less light, giving a pale appearance.
Sariel’s eyes narrowed at seeing the demonic counterpa
rt to the Iryllurym—the soldiers of the Marotru who had descended upon his team from above. But eventually, his gaze landed on the largest and darkest creatures; the ones who destroyed the angelic army from beneath. The Nedaret moved now across the grassy surface with barbed tentacles, hard as stone, raking the fertile soil for traction.
The entire formation slowed to a stop. Though Sariel had eliminated hundreds of them on the battlefield this day, the enemy’s reluctance to attack was not due to fear. Instead, they relished the fact that they had the lone angel surrounded.
With his back to the water, Sariel looked out upon one after another of his enemies. There was no escape. The odds were impossible. He stared at his own death and couldn’t help the defiant grin that overtook his face.
The winged demons took to the air.
The small ones scrambled forward along the ground.
The massive ones lurched into motion.
Sariel crouched forward with his vaepkir ready to strike. But something inside him hesitated.
Your function is not to think, but to act! he remembered, as the words of his superior came to memory. The words spoken just before the battle.
Yes, my Rada!
In that single, obedient response, Sariel had committed his soldiers to their deaths.
This is what they’d want. For me to act. For me to fight!
The smaller, faster demons had now come within striking distance. Two sprang from the ground with their claws ready to rip his stomach open.
His lightning-quick reflex cut through both shadows in one swift movement and the demons vanished into a brilliant flash.
Think! What would they not want you to do?
Spinning to face three more demons, his reflexes took over now. His muscled limbs propelled him through a dance of death, hacking and slashing his way through the infestation of darkness.
Go where it is forbidden. Where the demons cannot follow. Regroup.
Sariel sprang from the ground as his wings thrust him upward into the nearest shadow.
The blade of the demon came down on him. Its serrated edge glanced off his vaepkir, leaving behind crimson sparks that perished into swirls of smoke.
Sariel plowed through the absence of light and brought the protruding tip of his own blade across the demon’s neck. Pale green and purple flashed as the enemy slipped by, spiraling downward to its death.
The Temporal Realm!
In a small pocket of safety before the next winged demon, Sariel cast his weapon away and willed his body to shift. Though he wore the winged form of an Iryllur, he was not bound by their limitations. He was one of the Myndarym—the race of angels who could shift their existence to any point along the spectrum of creation.
What had once appeared as a cloud of winged shadows and snarling fangs suddenly became a dizzying array of swirling ashes—a mixture of pale and dark, colorless blotches that quickly gave way to empty air. The sky, once deep orange, drained of color before it took on shades of blue. In the distance, the brilliance of the trees dimmed and the green hues seemed to become encased in more distinct forms.
As Sariel moved through the layers of the creation spectrum, he could almost feel the confusion among the ranks of the Marotru. A Shaper masquerading as a soldier was rare enough, but even his own kind would have been shocked. The Temporal Realm had long ago become forbidden to those who used to shape it. Though it was a violation of the laws of his realm, he kept pushing himself until he felt the firm lift of air beneath his feathered wings.
* * * *
LAENINGAR
THE TEMPORAL REALM
Sheyir sat on a low, flat rock, dangling her feet in the still water of the pond. It felt cool between her toes and gave her a momentary distraction from her frustration. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when her father announced the forthcoming betrothal to her uncle, but it did anyway. She had many uncles, but it seemed as though she would have to marry the most repulsive one. Unfortunately, her father didn’t have much say in the matter; such things were dictated by the customs of her people. Nevertheless, she wasn’t comforted by this. It only made her angry to think about the fact that there wasn’t another option. Someday this would all seem more bearable, someday when she had given up hope for something different.
But now was not that time. Now, she wasn’t able to bear it. And the feel of the water wasn’t able to dispel her feelings. In fact, the whole valley felt different today. The trees around her looked strange and dull, like the life had been drained out of them. Had something happened, or was it just her own situation that had changed? Since she was a child, she’d been coming to this place to be alone and to sing. But she didn’t feel much like singing now.
As she glanced around at her surroundings, something on the edge of her vision caught her attention. Sheyir turned and looked up, noticing something strange about the trees just a few yards away. She squinted, but the perplexing vision only intensified. One section of the forest seemed to bulge outward as if she were looking at it through a dew drop. The subtle green and brown hues of the vegetation slowly separated into bands of more intense color. She watched, fascinated by the beautiful but unexplained event.
And then, it was there—a massive, winged creature hovering in the air, facing away from her. Sheyir was instantly paralyzed with fear and the only thing she could hear above the powerful beat of its white wings was the pounding of her own heart.
The creature pivoted slowly toward her as it descended to the earth. When its human-shaped body touched the ground, the feathered wings, dappled with bands of gold and reddish-brown, came to rest. If it hadn’t noticed her presence before, it did now with large, deep-set, animal eyes, blue in color. The prominent eyebrows gave it a look of intensity, as if it was able to see into her very soul. Its face and head were covered in white, shaggy hair, swept back from its large, sharp nose as if blown by the wind. But the rest of the creature’s tan skin was hairless.
Sheyir willed her body to move, but it was frozen in place, melded with the rock beneath her.
The creature, whose body seemed to be made entirely of muscle, took a step forward.
Sheyir instantly grew cold while her face flushed with heat. Even though it stood a stone’s throw away, it seemed as though the creature’s vast wings could reach out and encircle her.
Instead, the creature retracted them and tucked them behind its shoulders.
Suddenly, Sheyir felt control of her body return. Without pausing even a moment to make sense of the situation, she fled in terror. As her bare feet dug into the wet sand of the shoreline, she could almost feel its breath on her skin. In her mind, she could still see those giant wings and knew that it would take but two thrusts for the creature to catch her. But she ran anyway, blind with panic.
The thick foliage of the trees slapped her face and body as she finally reached the forest, feeling instantly safer among the confined space that would inhibit flying creatures from attacking. She kept running until she couldn’t breathe and her legs wouldn’t move any longer. She stumbled and fell into the mud. Crawling now on her hands and knees, she wondered why she hadn’t already been taken from the ground and carried off into the sky. Risking a look behind, she was surprised to see nothing.
The creature was not there.
She looked up quickly, expecting to see it descending upon her, but neither was it in the sky above. In fact, there was no sign of it; only the broken reeds and bent blades of grass disturbed by her passage. Her lungs burned and her heart raced, obstructing her ears from listening for signs of pursuit.
Where is it?
Sheyir stood motionless, her chest heaving, for what seemed like an eternity. Slowly, her heart grew quieter and she thought she could hear something. More seconds passed and the sound of singing drifted to her. It was the most clear, brilliant tone she’d ever heard. Increasing in volume, it pierced the air and rumbled the ground beneath her feet, all at once. What was more startling was the melody—a song she used to sing as a
child.
How could it know? What does it want?
Slowly, the vines parted on the other side of the clearing.
Sheyir remained still, too exhausted to run any longer.
From between the broad leaves, a man stepped through into the light. Even at this distance, she could see that he was several heads taller than she. Only a tattered white loincloth covered his tan skin. His white, shaggy hair and beard were unmistakable. Though smaller and without wings, she knew it was still the same creature.
“Please don’t go, Sheyir,” he said in her language. “I’ve come a long way to see you.”
She backed away carefully, feeling more cautious than afraid now.
How does it know my name?
The man, the creature, extended its hand toward her in a pleading gesture.
Sheyir stepped slowly backward into a tangle of thick vines until broad leaves blocked her vision of the strange man. Immediately, she felt shielded from the power of his gaze. Her body was her own once more. Turning, she ran toward her village as quickly as her legs would carry her.
CHAPTER 3
SEDEKIYR
The midmorning sun was bright, making the dew on the grass sparkle. The elders and most of the inhabitants of Sedekiyr were gathered in the center of the village, watching Enoch and his family from a distance.
Zacol slid a leaf-wrapped bundle of nuts and dried berries into an already full animal skin bag. “There,” she said as she lifted the bag and hung it across Enoch’s shoulders. “That should keep you for a few days. Then you’ll have to gather what you can along the way.”
“Thank you,” Enoch replied, trying to make eye contact with his wife. She was doing her best to ignore the implications of this journey. But he didn’t want her to keep silent. He wanted her to voice her frustrations so they wouldn’t gnaw at her while he was gone.
“They look more curious than anything,” he offered, looking over her shoulder at the rest of their tribe.
Zacol looked up suddenly with her head tilted slightly. “Of course they are. What did you expect?”
Enoch squinted. At least she was talking now. “Nothing, I guess. But I hoped that someone would show some concern. They’re just standing there.”