by Jason Tesar
The gray-haired beast raised its head and loosed another howl that shook the earth.
In the face of such power, the other creature backed away toward the shore, then burst into a run as soon as its claws touched soil.
In the ensuing silence, Enoch could hear the loud beating of his own heart.
Holy One. Save me!
Still facing the shoreline, the head of the mammal turned. As gore dripped from its chin, the animal stared into Enoch’s eyes. Then, it slowly opened a mouth full of sharpened teeth, each as long as Enoch’s hand.
“Olathe heya elhet?” The deep, guttural noise sounded like the language of the Kahyin, but like many people speaking at once.
Enoch stared in disbelief. “Holy One. Save me,” he whimpered aloud, now fighting back tears.
“Are you Shayeth?” the voice of the animal boomed.3
Enoch was speechless.
“Who are you?” the beast growled, perfectly enunciating the words in the Shayeth language.
Enoch opened his mouth. “H … how are you able—?”
“WHO ARE YOU?” the animal interrupted.
“My name is Enoch,” he answered quickly, pulling himself up by his wrists.
“You are different than the rest of these humans.”
Enoch stared at the creature, unable to comprehend the thought of an animal speaking. He answered almost without thinking. “I am not from the same tribe as these people. They captured me and brought me here.”
“NO!” the animal barked. It was now only a few of its long strides away from Enoch. “You misunderstand me. I can see that you carry the presence of another with you.
Enoch’s heart, which had been beating rapidly to this point, seemed to slow. Immediately, he felt a rush of peace. The change in his composure must have been drastic, because the beast’s piercing golden eyes widened.
“It is the presence of the Holy One.”
The animal walked closer. Even on all fours, its back stood taller that Enoch’s head. It circled once, sniffing as it went. When it came back around, it turned directly toward Enoch and looked him in the eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Enoch thought he’d already explained that. Then he realized what the animal was really asking. “I was shown a vision by the Holy One. And now I’m trying to deliver a message from Him.”
“What is your message and whom is it for?” it asked, surprisingly quiet.
Enoch took a slow breath and adjusted his wrists. “It is for the Wandering Stars of Heaven. The ones who shape creation.”
The animal took a step back and its gaze drifted to the ground beside it. When it looked up again, its golden eyes seemed to glisten. “Go on,” it said quietly.
Enoch cleared his throat. “He told me that they have broken His heart. ‘You have abandoned your home and have brought great wickedness upon the earth,’ He told me. He showed me what they’ve done and I saw His tears of sorrow fill the earth. He wants them to repent of their disobedience and return to Him.”
The animal now stared out across the lake. Its eyes narrowed.
“Please. Let me go. I must find them and deliver my message.”
Beneath the terrible face before him, something intangible shifted. It was more than an emotion, something deeper. And for a long moment the beast remained silent, hopefully considering Enoch’s plea. Finally it looked back to Enoch, opened its mouth, and leaned forward.
Enoch recoiled in fear.
The massive teeth plunged deep into the wood of the pole, severing clean the ropes that bound his wrists.
Immediately, Enoch slumped to the stone below, too scared to support his own weight. For a moment, he simply leaned against the wood and massaged his wrists, unable to look up into the terrifying gaze of the creature.
“Come with me, Prophet,” a deep, gentle voice spoke.
Enoch looked up slowly.
“There is someone you need to meet,” it added. “Get up.”
Enoch obediently pushed himself up to standing, ignoring his body’s protests.
The animal crouched low. “Climb on my back.”
Enoch stood motionless, afraid to touch the animal.
“Hurry up. We don’t have much time,” it warned. “Grab my fur and climb up.”
Gently, Enoch gripped fistfuls of the coarse, gray hair and pulled himself up. Once atop the massive beast, he could feel its heat and strength. His legs were nearly lost in the depth of its fur.
“Lean forward and hold on tight,” it said.
Enoch barely managed to follow the orders before the animal leaped into action, bounding into the trees with only a few strides of its powerful legs.
CHAPTER 8
NORTH OF BAHYITH
“Go on ahead,” Sariel called. “I’ll catch up.”
After reconnecting with his escorts, he was now only a few hours away from the Chatsiyr village. His traveling companions had stopped walking, their foreheads furrowed.
“I need to arrange my thoughts before meeting with the elder,” he explained.
The men exchanged glances among themselves, then turned and continued walking south without any discussion.
When they were out of sight, Sariel looked up into the foothills of Ehrevhar and waited. After a few minutes, an immense, winged figure came out from the foliage and walked down the slope. He was comparable in size to Sariel’s angelic form, but his mottled coloring was comprised of browns, reds, and tans. Like most Iryllurym, his chestnut colored hair was finger-length, and swept back from his face. But it was his large, golden eyes that Sariel would always remember. For many years, they were the eyes of the only friend he had. But in recent times, they’d gone separate ways and lost contact with each other.
Moving upslope into the waist-deep grass, Sariel approached the soldier and looked up. “Welcome,” he said as soon as they met.
Stepping sideways until he was downslope, the angel still towered over Sariel’s human form.
“I thought that was you. What are you doing here?” Tarsaeel asked calmly.
“I should ask you the same. How did you find me?” Sariel countered.
Tarsaeel’s lowered eyebrows revealed concern, which only made Sariel more alarmed.
“I was notified when you didn’t report back,” the angel replied. “I checked with Batna, but they didn’t find your body on the battlefield. I knew you’d die before being taken prisoner, so I figured …”
Sariel nodded.
“What are you doing here Sariel?”
“Trying to help.”
“No. What you’re doing is forbidden.”
“Is it?” Sariel asked. “How is this different from the early days? These people still need our help.”
Tarsaeel dropped his head. “The difference is that it was necessary then. Now you’re operating in disobedience.”
Sariel breathed heavily without letting his gaze leave the eyes of his former friend. “I’m not going back. There is too much to do. And here … I’m actually making a difference.”
Tarsaeel exhaled. “Look. Everyone knows it was a mistake to put your unit in that battle.”
Sariel squinted. “Everyone except my commanding officers, you mean.”
“They just needed bodies,” Tarsaeel offered. “We knew you’d be outnumbered.”
“That’s exactly my point,” Sariel replied, louder than he intended. When he spoke again, he lowered his voice. “Something’s wrong. I can’t explain it. But something is wrong with the execution of our mission. And with your responsibilities, you can probably see it better than anyone. Our leadership is going down the wrong path.”
“Are you suggesting that we become like the enemy? That we fight like them? Deceit? Treachery?”
“No,” Sariel replied. “Perhaps. I don’t know,” he said finally with a wave of his hand. “It just seems like the enemy is willing to go to greater lengths to win. Meanwhile, we have to play by all the rules. Any they just keep reinventing the conflict. How can we win again
st that?”
Tarsaeel’s jaw clinched and his face went rigid. “We can win because we’re on the right side! Or some of us are.”
Sariel immediately forgave the insult. He understood the soldier’s anger. He would have said the same thing just a few years ago. “Look,” he said putting his hand up in a gesture of submission. “I haven’t abandoned the cause. I’m just putting my efforts to better use.”
Tarsaeel slowly shook his head from side to side. “You deceive yourself. Omynd is over. This realm is self-sufficient. And your emotions are swayed by lust.”
It took Sariel a moment to realize that the angel spoke of Sheyir. “Lust? Is that what you think it is?”
“How could it be anything else?” Tarsaeel said dismissively. “We are not human. They are the ones who must mate in order for their species to survive. But we are not like them.”
“To hear you reduce it to such a base level tells me that you really never understood what we were doing,” Sariel said. Now he was the one who was disappointed. “It’s called love. And obviously, you’ve never experienced it. But, as unfortunate as that is, it doesn’t matter anyway because she has nothing to do with this. The real issue is that, while there’s a war going on and we’re busy killing each other in that realm, there are casualties in this realm. People are suffering here. Creation is changing here and people are dying. But we don’t get to see the result of our actions. We’re prevented from seeing how our ineffective strategy is actually failing.”
“She has everything to do with this,” Tarsaeel said quietly, suddenly changing the tone of the argument. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
These last words caused a surge of apprehension in Sariel’s heart. Rarely had Tarsaeel ever spoken with such a melancholy warning. Holding the rank of Sau-Rada in the Viytur, the Intelligence arm of the Amatru, Tarsaeel had access to information that few were authorized to know.
“What do you mean?” Sariel asked, now very concerned.
“You’ll know soon enough. Anyway …” he said dismissively. “I’m not at liberty to discuss such things with you. I came to warn you of a coming conflict.”
Sariel ran his fingers through his hair. His mind was still reeling from the enigmatic words about Sheyir, but it was clear that he wouldn’t get any more information.
“A conflict? Here?” Sariel asked.
“Yes. You’re not the only one to have crossed over. Have you heard of Semjaza?”
“No.”
Tarsaeel continued. “He’s a Pri-Rada of a joint operations group, or he used be. He crossed over years ago with three divisions of Anduarym, Iryllurym, and Vidirym. He’s already set up his own earthly kingdom and has quite a strong position.”8
Sariel opened his mouth, then shut it again and looked to the sky in frustration. “This is what I’m talking about. So we didn’t do anything about it when he crossed over. But now that he’s established himself, we’re trying to plan something?”
Tarsaeel shrugged. “You know as well as I do that there just aren’t enough resources to address every problem.”
“Yeah,” Sariel replied, not bothering to hide the anger in his voice.
“Look at it this way,” Tarsaeel continued, leaning forward to tower over Sariel’s shorter, human form. “That very same lack of resources is precisely why the Amatru hasn’t invaded this place and dragged you back to the Eternal realm.”
“Why are you telling me this anyway?”
“Because your Pri-Rada is coordinating with a mission to pay him a visit. I expect it’ll be bloody, and I’d hate for you to be mistaken for one of them.”
“I didn’t think that mattered to you anymore,” Sariel replied, turning to look out across the valley to Bokhar.
“You’re not the only one here,” Tarsaeel said flatly. “Are you sure you still want to make it your home? It’s not too late to come back.”
Sariel looked up into Tarsaeel’s eyes. In that instant, he saw the uncountable number of wars they’d faced together. He saw the faces of his fellow soldiers dying in agony. He saw the beauty of creation reduced to a wasteland. Then he saw Sheyir; her vulnerability. Who would protect her? Who would love her? Who else was even capable of knowing her?
“I’m sorry, I truly am. But I can’t go back.”
Tarsaeel’s eyes closed slowly. “Be safe,” he said simply, when they opened again.
In his voice, Sariel could hear something that he hadn’t heard in ages—the farewell of someone who didn’t expect him to survive what he was about to face. As Tarsaeel turned and walked up the hill, disappearing into the trees, his warning echoed in Sariel’s ears.
You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.
Deep in his spirit, Sariel was inclined to agree. But that had never stopped him before. And the thought of leaving Sheyir was unbearable. So, he watched his former friend go and wondered if it was the last time they’d see each other.
* * * *
GADOL HAR-MARAH
What had taken Enoch most of the day to climb, the animal on which he rode descended by the time the sun had set. With the orange light now behind the horizon, the sky began to darken quickly. Running effortlessly, the beast moved west, then north along the base of Gadol Har-Marah.
Enoch’s legs were cramped from trying to hold tight to the animal’s abdomen. And the passing night air against his naked skin chilled him to the bone. Tucking down into the thick fur, he sought the warmth of the animal’s body as he watched the terrain slip past at unbelievable speeds. Within an hour the creature began to slow, then stopped altogether.
Enoch sat up to take note of his surroundings. The air was clear of the usual mist and the stars seemed bright overhead. To the west, moonlight glittered on the surface of a large body of water. To the southeast, a pale orange glow illuminated the base of Gadol Har-Marah.
“What is that?” Enoch whispered, mostly to himself.
“The inhabitants call it Khelrusa. I believe your people call it Khanok,” the beast answered.
“I’ve never seen it before.”
“And you won’t tonight,” it replied. “We’re going this way.”
Enoch looked down and realized that the animal was standing in the middle of a wide path of bare soil, which cut across the grasslands. The path ran toward Khanok in one direction and toward the water in the other direction.
“Hold on,” the beast cautioned. “I’ll be moving faster now.”
Faster? I thought we were already moving faster.
The animal lunged into motion and Enoch ducked down, gripping the fur with all the strength left in his hands. A short while later, a mountain range of jagged rock rose from the horizon. Seeming out of place among the grass-covered flatlands, Enoch marveled at its unusual appearance. Gradually, the path began to climb into the mountains, but the beast maintained his extraordinary pace, never showing any signs of tiring.
Holding tight for safety and warmth, Enoch watched the crude stone pass by, its irregular silhouette looking menacing against the night sky.
After rounding numerous corners and changing directions multiple times, the beast slowed to a trot, then a walk. “It’s time to use your legs again,” it said, finally stopping.
As it crouched, Enoch slid over the side of its back and collapsed as soon as his feet touched the ground. His legs were numb from the ride. As he sat in the rough dirt, massaging his useless limbs, stars began to swim at the edge of his vision. He quickly rubbed his eyes, then realized that the light wasn’t an apparition. All around him, the air was filled with tiny sparks of light, drifting outward from the glowing body of the creature who towered above him. Its form seemed to dissolve slowly as more pieces of light ventured into the air.
Enoch slid backward, terrified and excited by its beauty at the same time.
Without warning, the points of light reversed their direction and rapidly converged on the creature who seemed much taller than before.
Enoch co
vered his eyes and braced himself, expecting something horrible to happen. When nothing did, he slowly dropped his hands from his eyes.
Where the animal stood only a moment before, there was now a magnificent creature that looked much more familiar. In form, it seemed human. But Enoch knew this to be impossible for it stood at twice his height. Even in the darkness, he could see its beauty and gracefulness.
“What are you?” he asked.
“A Wandering Star of Heaven,” he replied. “One of the Myndarym—the ones who shape creation.”
Enoch put a hand to his mouth as he realized he’d already delivered his message to one of the intended recipients.
“We have farther to go, but you’ll need to travel on foot,” he said, turning to walk up the path.
Enoch quickly rose to his feet and ran to catch up, which proved difficult with the angel’s long strides. He followed at a short distance, now feeling more awkward than he did sitting on the back of an animal. They continued in silence for a while, until Enoch worked up enough courage to ask a question.
“What is your name?” His voice seemed to violate some unspoken law of silence in this eerie place.
“Ananel,” the angel replied without turning.
Moments later, they rounded a gentle bend and Enoch found himself facing yet another extraordinary sight. The path widened greatly, running straight into a sheer wall of stone that stood a hundred feet tall and many times as wide. At each end, where the vertical surface met with the jagged protrusions of the mountain sides, the stone rose to a point. Like two spines from the back of those horrid reptiles, these structures looked just as deadly. Each had three faces, like an angular version of the Kahyin dwelling.
“How could such a thing be crafted from stone?” he marveled.
Ananel quickly looked back with a smirk on his face, then continued walking toward the center of the path where it led through an open section of the wall.
On either side of the path, two more angels stood with arms crossed at their chests. They were easily three heads taller than Ananel, and their build was wider and more muscular. They each wore a simple loincloth that fell to the mid-thigh, but were otherwise naked. Even beneath the night sky, Enoch could tell that their skin and hair were darker. Their eyes, possibly black, remained fixed toward the distance behind him. And Enoch was grateful, for his body was already shaking and he dared not think about what would happen if they looked directly at him.