by Jason Tesar
Ananel stood up and opened his mouth. Slowly, the meeting area was filled with the sweetest of sounds, a gentle song that drifted among the blades of grass and the gently swirling water of the pool. It gradually built in volume and complexity as others joined in.
Enoch felt a blanket of peace cover him, and the strong need to close his eyes, which he promptly obeyed. One moment, he was thinking how beautiful their singing was, and the next he found himself seeing, feeling, hearing, touching, and even tasting things that he was sure he had never experienced. It lasted only a few minutes, but when the sensation passed, he understood exactly what had happened.
In the following silence, Enoch opened his eyes. “This is your language which cannot be spoken in this realm. How then did you speak it to me and how did I understand it?”
Ananel, now standing at his full height, looked down. “Though our realms have drifted apart, there is a portion of the Eternal still attached to the Temporal. We moved you into this place where our language can be spoken. We opened your ears by singing a Song of Understanding.”
Enoch looked down at the soft grass beneath his feet and slowly rubbed his palms together. His mind now raced with ideas that had been planted in his mind—memories so complete that he felt as though they were his experiences. Now he understood that words were but a pale shadow of how these creatures communicated. Spoken language seemed terribly inadequate. But he gave them words anyway.
“Semjaza wanted to come to this realm, but he was held back by the limitations of his own ability. He and his soldiers are not Myndarym. They could not shift.”
Enoch could see nods of affirmation from the Myndarym as he began pacing, the thoughts coming more quickly than he could speak.
“He desired to set up an earthly kingdom without opposition and needed your help to get here, and your knowledge of humans to gain control of the Kahyin people. Your role as Shapers had already come to an end and you were facing military service under his leadership. He offered to give you another existence among the creation you knew so well, to take you along and make it appear as if you perished in battle. But he failed in this. My coming, and that of the Speaker, revealed that the Holy One and the Amatru knew what had transpired, and what Semjaza was attempting to do.”
Enoch slowly looked up at the faces he once feared. Now, as he wiped the tears from his eyes, he no longer feared them, but feared for them.
“You are not supposed to be here. The heart of the Holy One is broken by your actions. His tears come now from my eyes,” Enoch whispered.
“You can see now that we have hid nothing from you,” Ananel admitted. “And this is our plea to you—that you take our petition for forgiveness before the Holy One. Present it to Him and make Him understand our unfortunate position. We desire peace and not war. We do not align ourselves with Semjaza any longer.”12
Enoch opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There were too many conflicting thoughts and emotions. Again and again, he heard the Myndarym’s refusal to accept their own disobedience. Again and again, they shifted the blame to Semjaza. And now they asked him to go before the Holy One and make Him understand, as if He needed to. As if His perspective was wrong and He needed some missing piece of information to reach a just conclusion. And yet, Enoch also shared their memory of Semjaza’s manipulation. By what they placed into his mind, he experienced their betrayal. He felt their helplessness and he sympathized with their situation. Finally, he managed a few words.
“I don’t know how to take your petition before Him.”
Ananel knelt down again. “You said He speaks to you. Don’t you also speak with Him?”
“Yes,” Enoch admitted. “But it’s not the same as we are now speaking.”
Ananel hung his head. “We do not understand the fullness of the Holy One’s love for your kind. From the beginning, He has favored humans above all other creations. Even above us. None of the Myndarym have ever spoken or heard directly from Him. Yet you experience this daily. We can see that you are special, even among humans. If you are unable to take our petition before Him, then surely all is lost. We are without hope.”
Enoch looked from Ananel to the other faces among the meeting area. He couldn’t stand to see them this way. For such magnificent creatures, they now appeared pathetic. From some unknown place inside him, confidence welled up—a confidence propelled by mercy. “I will try,” he offered. “I will try.”
CHAPTER 16
NORTH OF BAHYITH
Sariel traveled north along the stream, following the same path that he’d taken previously to Arar Gahiy, but this time he was alone. The day after leaving Bahyith, he shaped into his Iryllur form and flew east into the foothills of Bokhar. Crossing over the Morning Mountain, he descended into flatlands that were choked with towering trees and dense undergrowth. According to Yeduah’s instructions, the People of the Trees lived in the forests that grew thickest between the eastern slope of Bokhar and the Great Waters.
For several days, Sariel flew in a methodical search pattern over the land, always shifting his consciousness toward the Eternal and back. Each time he perceived the glow of a living being’s spirit he descended to the trees for a closer look with his physical eyes. But he found nothing except animals of all kinds—reptiles, and mammals—moving in herds, or at other times alone. Occasionally, a school of fish swimming through the abundant streams would appear from high above as a gathering of human spirits. But the Aytsam were nowhere to be found.
Gradually, Sariel made his way south and east. There, on the narrowest section of land that separated the Great Waters from another body of water to its northwest, he noticed a difference in the pattern of the trees. With caution, he landed and approached the area on foot.
What he had barely noticed from above turned out to be human dwellings suspended in the thick braches. Platforms of bundled saplings were connected by rope bridges, creating an entire village high overhead, just beneath the underhanging foliage. But it was deserted. Sariel flew up to the braches and walked along the platforms, looking for clues. Then he searched the ground beneath the village, but it looked as if it hadn’t been used in months.
A brief flicker of movement in the distance suddenly caught his attention.
Sariel stopped and peered through the congested throng of massive tree trunks.
Did I imagine it?
Just then, a flash of dark, earthy skin flitted between trees to his right. Something was moving south.
Sariel shaped into his human form and started off at a run. Vines threatened to strangle him as he dodged between the undergrowth, heading southeast on a course that would bring him into contact with whatever was out there. A few minutes later, he reached a clearing where thick grass grew up around a boulder. Without breaking his stride, he leaped onto the side of the rock and scrambled to its top. With his breath now coming in heaves, he watched and listened, hoping that his prey hadn’t deviated from the direction it had been moving.
Just when he began to lose hope, he saw something else. This time, he was sure that it was more than one person. They were still moving south and he had been moving parallel with them and was now slightly behind. They were quicker than he thought.
The People of the Trees!
Sprinting from his vantage point, Sariel dodged between bushes and quickly made his way through the waist-high grass and out of the clearing. Under another stand of trees, the grasses gave way to wet soil and rotting leaves. Though unpleasant, he moved quicker over this terrain. By the time he reached the next clearing, he was sure that he’d gained ground, expecting them to be directly east of him, perhaps a little to the south.
His eyes scanned the opposite tree line and his ears struggled to hear over the beating of his heart. But nothing was there.
Did I miss something?
Suddenly, he heard a faint scraping noise that sounded different from the other jungle noises. It came from the southeast.
There you are.
Sariel quickly left the trees
and crossed another meadow, swinging eastward to bring himself directly behind his prey. He quickly found that the terrain they were moving over offered easier passage than his own, which explained part of their speed. The soil was compacted on either side of a stream. And he was certain now they’d spotted him, which would explain the reason for their haste.
Skirting wide around a shallow pool, Sariel broke through the brush and stopped dead in his tracks. There, a hundred feet before him, stood a gigantic feline. Even in its crouched position, its massive head was level with Sariel’s, while its back stood slightly taller. Its pale orange fur was flecked with brown spots and a few vertical stripes running along its back. The creature’s face was scrunched into a snarl, revealing a massive jaw of flesh-rending teeth, two of which were longer than Sariel’s hands. The clawed paws of its forelegs were embedded into the soil, ready to propel the cat forward at any moment.
Sariel backed away slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the large, golden orbs set into the animal’s face. If he tried to shape, the beast would kill him before he could even take to the air.
The cat lowered its body.
Sariel held his breath.
It sprang forward.
Sariel spun around and ran for the shallow pool where the stream jogged sharply to the east. Leaping across the stream in one giant stride, he turned parallel to the water and sprinted as quickly as his human legs would carry him. He knew he could only stay ahead of the creature for a brief moment, and began scanning the ground for anything that could be used as a weapon. The sound of water and his own footsteps through the damp, compacted soil was all that could be heard. But he knew the animal pursued him, silently and rapidly gaining ground. A quick glance over his right shoulder confirmed this fear. The cat had already closed half the distance between them and was now approaching the stream from the south.
Up ahead, the water diverted around a jagged pile of stone. Sariel surged ahead and grabbed a fist-sized rock from the ground without slowing.
All of a sudden, another large creature burst from the brush on the north side of the stream.
Sariel lunged forward, bringing his left arm around in a backhanded motion, striking the rock against the creature’s snout as it passed behind him.
In that instant, the first cat leaped over the stream and the other animal in an attempt to pounce.
Sariel quickly ducked and rolled forward on the ground. Coming to his feet with most of his speed intact, he continued running. He was now aware of pain in his right shoulder and back that quickly escalated into a searing ache. A few more inches and the cat’s claws would have stuck in his flesh and brought him to a halt.
Now that the animals were on the north side of the stream, Sariel jumped across to the south side and kept running, heading blindly into a thick tangle of vegetation. The vines slowed him considerably and he grasped wildly at the tendrils, ripping and tearing through them as he pushed his legs to the limit of their strength.
Unexpectedly, the vines gave way to open air. Sariel had only an instant to notice the stream falling over the edge of a cliff before his body did the same. Instinctively, he shaped to his angelic form. Just before hitting the rocks fifty feet below, he extended his massive wings and felt the lift of the air beneath them. As he pulled up, the distorted surface of the pool below him spread outward in the sudden gust of wind. He quickly gained elevation and banked to the south, coming about to see two giant felines standing on the edge of the cliff and a third coming behind them.
The three animals began to shimmer until they took on angelic forms.
Circling back to the top of the cliff, Sariel came to rest on the opposite side of the stream where it widened before plummeting over the edge.
Over the sound of the waterfall, one of them shouted. “Are you a Speaker?” His golden eyes and striped skin tones still held the same appearance as his animal form.
“No,” Sariel answered.
“You wear an Iryllur form, yet you can shape.”
“Yes,” Sariel answered. Although it was uncommon for Myndar to serve as soldiers, it wasn’t unheard of. The surprise in the eyes of these Shapers indicated that they’d been away from the Eternal Realm for a long time.
The angel on the far left looked more intensely at Sariel than the others. His mouth and nose were covered in blood. “You were not with Semjaza. I don’t recognize you.”
“No,” Sariel replied. “And I take it you’re not with him either?”
“Not anymore,” the third one spoke. He was slightly darker than the others, though with similar features.
“Who are you?” the first one asked.
Before Sariel could answer the one on the left spoke again. “Why were you chasing us?”
“I didn’t intend to. I was looking for the Aytsam. Sorry about the rock,” he offered.
The Shaper wiped a hand across his face and looked at the blood in his palm, apparently unaware until this moment that he’d been injured.
“Sorry about the claws,” the one in the middle replied. Judging by body language, he was their leader.
Sariel nodded in reply, flexing his back and feeling the associated pain and wetness from the blood. “It’ll heal.” Even though there were three of them, he could see that they were intimidated in the presence of a soldier. Sariel held up his hands. “Can I come across?”
The leader glanced at the other two, then nodded.
Sariel slowly spread his wings and jumped into the air, then glided effortlessly across the stream to land gently next to the Myndarym.
“We didn’t know anyone else was here,” the injured one stated.
“Neither did I. I came here on my own. I’m Sariel,” he replied, extending his hand.
The injured one looked suspicious at first, then slowly grasped his hand, clearly uncomfortable with the entirely human gesture of greeting. “Jomjael,” he replied. “And this is Tamael and Batarel.”
“The Sariel?” Tamael asked.
“Yes,” Sariel admitted cautiously.
“We’ve heard of you.”
“Oh,” Sariel said. “Most of what you’ve heard is probably exaggerated.”
Tamael smiled, his golden eyes now softened with humor. “I know the Iryllurym deal with the enemy on a regular basis, but I doubt they’ve picked up lying as a habit.”
Sariel just raised his head slightly. “Where are you all going?”
The three Myndarym became very quiet and exchanged glances with each other.
Sariel had already pieced together the situation. His question was more of a formality. But they were clearly still trying to keep it a secret. “I’m only asking because you might need another pair of eyes on Semjaza.”
Now the Myndarym were still.
“Your falling out must have been pretty bad,” Sariel guessed. “Now you’re camped somewhere up north and keeping a watch in case he wants to retaliate.”
Finally, Tamael gave in. “You’re quick,” the leader admitted. “We did have a falling out, months ago. He’s not to be trusted.”
“I can imagine,” Sariel replied.
Tamael looked reluctant. “And we could use your help.”
“Of course,” Sariel answered, folding his wings behind his shoulders. “I’d be glad to help.”
Tamael nodded, but was silent for a moment. “What do you want in return?”
Inwardly, Sariel smiled. These angels had obviously spent enough time with Semjaza to learn how things worked within a culture of conflict. “What were your roles under Semjaza?”
Tamael’s golden eyes narrowed. “Various things. Why does that matter?”
Sariel smiled outwardly now at the vague answer. He wasn’t going to get information from these Myndarym without offering something in return. “Because I’ve witnessed something quite unusual and I would like to know if Semjaza is the cause of it.”
“You’ll need to be more specific,” Batarel replied this time.
“Did he order you to make contact wi
th demons?” Sariel asked bluntly.
All three of the angels straightened their posture at these words.
“Demons? What are you talking about?” Tamael asked suddenly.
Sariel folded his arms. “What were your roles under Semjaza?”
It was Jomjael who spoke this time. “We shifted him and his soldiers here. We helped him understand and control humans. And we built him a fortress.”
“Did any of you make contact with demons on his behalf?” Sariel asked again.
“What did you witness?” Tamael asked.
“Alright,” Sariel said, holding up his hand in resignation. “I witnessed humans wearing figurines around their necks that gave demons the authority to inhabit their bodies.”
“This is not possible,” Batarel replied.
“Where did you see this?” Tamael asked.
“First tell me if Semjaza is capable of this. Is he working with demons?”
Tamael shook his head. “I have not seen or heard of this before. And I don’t know any angel, Myndar or other, who would do such a thing.”
Jomjael, who’d been mostly silent, folded his arms. “If anyone were capable of this, it would be Semjaza. We have seen that his conscience is clouded with many dark secrets.”
“Where did you see this?” Tamael asked, getting back to his line of curiosity.
Sariel turned around and pointed. “To the northeast lay two long mountains which run parallel to each other. At the north end of the valley between them is a lake. Along its northern shoreline, there are several demons who are constrained to this realm. Their location is fixed over the remains of dead humans. That’s where I found the figurine. I moved one and I observed the power it has over them. The demon was helpless to move beyond the authority granted to it by the figurine.”
“But how can such an object take precedence over the will of a human?” Tamael asked.
“That’s what I wondered. I believe it has something to do with the human’s desire to keep the figurine. They are crafted from gold and humans have yet to discover metals, or the art of working them.”10 In reality, Sariel knew this to be true. After the exorcism of the Chatsiyr man, he understood all too well the nature of the figurine and its control over the human will. But he kept this a secret.
Tamael looked to the north, then back to Sariel. “Can you show it to us?”