Incarnation: Wandering Stars Volume One

by Jason Tesar

  “I’m flattered. But I think we are too much alike, you and I. I can see by the results of your work that you’re someone who sets his mind to something and doesn’t turn back.”

  Semjaza nodded, but remained silent.

  “I came to this world to escape living under the rule of another. And I’m sure the Amatru doesn’t approve of … all this. So it seems you did, as well.”

  Semjaza nodded once more, but kept his head in a downward position. Azael could see the fury building behind his eyes.

  “So it would be wise, I think, not to mingle our ambitions.”

  “I see,” Semjaza replied. “Perhaps I’ve missed something,” he said, glancing quickly aside. “Certainly one who has attained legendary status among the Amatru would possess an intellect superior to most. Strength and skill as well. And if my assumption is correct, as most are, I am confused by what terms you offer.”

  “Terms?” Sariel now looked confused, but Azael didn’t buy it.

  “Yes. Terms,” Semjaza said, his amusement all but gone now. “If you are not offering your services to me, then what is it that you hope to exchange for the woman?”

  “I didn’t come here to exchange anything. I came here to speak with you, soldier to soldier. And to tell you that you mistakenly took my woman.”

  Finally, an honest statement, Azael thought.

  “Out of respect for your high position,” Sariel continued, “I came here directly to clear up the matter.”

  Semjaza straightened his stance, which had become increasingly forward-leaning as the conversation had progressed. “This is most unfortunate for you. For this matter will not be cleared up. You see, I am no longer one of the Amatru. I’ve … given up on their archaic ways. I’ve liberated myself from the shackles of holiness. I’m a new creation now. You see, I’ve learned that there is only one thing which produces effective results in both realms—leverage. This is what the Amatru refuse to see and why they will ultimately lose. But this place, the realm that they’ve abandoned, it’s mine. I have authority over it now. And when I see something I want in my own world, I take it. So, when you come to me and demand that I give back something that is rightfully mine, what am I to say?”

  “So, you admit you know the woman I speak of,” Sariel stated, now clenching his fists.

  Azael slowly rotated the hilts of his vaepkir, unhooking them from their scabbards, but keeping them sheathed.

  “OF COURSE I KNOW!” Semjaza shouted. “I know everything in my world. And now that you’ve displeased me, I will keep her for myself whether you have something to trade or not.”

  Sariel looked to the ground and his arms began to shake, muscles bulging beneath his pale skin. He inhaled slowly and when his gaze returned to Semjaza, there was hatred in his eyes.

  “I will give you one chance to release her. And if you do not, I swear to you that I will bring an end to your kingdom and your life in this realm.”

  Azael now saw why Semjaza had tried to gain the soldier’s service.

  The Pri-Rada’s eyes narrowed. “Because of your reputation, I will give you one chance to leave unharmed.”

  It would be a waste of a potential resource, but Azael unsheathed his vaepkir, their ringing sound echoed off the stone hills on either side of the road. Following his lead, the other Iryllurym did the same, while the Anduarym gripped their vandrekt in a ready position.

  Sariel’s quick eyes darted from left to right. He wasn’t assessing the situation, for he had clearly already done that. But it appeared that he was now actually considering fighting. Now it was Azael’s turn to be amused. The intruder was unarmed and the odds were ridiculous.

  Sariel’s jaw was clenched and his body tense. Slowly, he extended wings.

  Azael and his Iryllurym did likewise.

  In the blink of an eye, something passed across the face of the intruder. The reckless abandonment behind his gaze, gave way to reason. Instead of attacking, he lifted his wings. Then, as he leaped from the ground, he brought his wings quickly downward and propelled himself into the sky.

  The guards all looked up and watched the intruder go. But Azael turned to his superior, biting back the insubordinate question on his tongue.

  Semjaza met the look with his own furious gaze. “He’s working with the Myndarym. Take your soldiers and track him. If he leads you to the Shapers, come back and report their location to me. If he doesn’t, kill him.”

  “As you wish, my Rada,” Azael replied.

  CHAPTER 20

  MURAKSZHUG

  Sariel kept low to the earth, moving southwest between Khelrusa and Murakszhug. As he ascended the portion of the range that protruded to the northwest, he glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t see any movement in the skies, but he knew he was being followed. After cresting the peak, he slowed and dropped into a sparse stand of trees on the western slope. Hidden by the vegetation, he watched the skies and waited.

  Sooner than expected, two Iryllurym passed quickly overhead. Their silhouettes revealed long and narrow wings with pointed ends. By design they were capable of faster flight, which would explain how they had managed to catch up so quickly.

  When the skies were clear, Sariel took to the air again and turned southeast. Minutes later, he reached the southern slopes of the mountain and noticed two more shapes approaching from the east. Quickly, he banked to the right and dropped into a narrow gorge that led away from the peak. Once again, he passed between jagged boulders, banking constantly to avoid them. With the descending altitude, the gradual presence of trees also helped conceal him, but added more obstacles to his already dangerous flight. When he reached a straight and smooth section of the canyon, he risked a glance over his shoulder.

  The two Iryllurym had followed him into the canyon.

  Beating his wings harder, Sariel tried to gain some speed, but his pursuers were gaining on him. Up ahead, the ravine bent sharply to the west and an idea came to him. Diving into the turn, Sariel waited until the sheer walls blocked the line of sight between them, then he pulled up and out of the canyon. He skimmed low over the lip of the ravine and shot through a stand of trees. Without a second’s hesitation, he doubled back to the north and dropped into another gorge that paralleled the previous one.

  Now flying upslope inside a wider gulley, he was heading straight for the peak of Murakszhug and the general direction of his rendezvous point with the Myndarym. Glancing behind, he saw no signs of pursuit. But when his eyes returned to their forward position, he noticed two more Iryllurym moving rapidly across the floor of the canyon, rising to meet him head-on. With hardly a moment to think, Sariel pulled his wings inward and dropped into a roll. As he passed between them, his compressed form pushed itself through the tangle of limbs and feathers, cracking something in the process.

  Spinning through the fray, Sariel opened his wings and gained altitude, looking behind him as he made his escape.

  One of the Iryllurym was dropping toward the canyon floor, spinning out of control with a broken wing.

  The remaining Iryllur banked to the west and came around into pursuit.

  Sariel pumped his wings faster and recovered some altitude just as he approached the pinnacle of the Mountain of Watching. Passing by its eastern face, he circled around to the west and came to a landing on a wide platform of rock above a sheer cliff face. His feet touched the mountain at a run and he quickly retracted his wings and stooped to pick up a jagged rock from the scree that covered the entire area.

  The Iryllur pursuer was only seconds behind. He dropped quickly from the air and hit the ledge at a run, as well.

  Spinning around to face the attacker, Sariel waited, holding the fist-sized rock behind his back.

  The attacker was armed with two vaepkir and advanced without any hesitation. As soon as he was within range, he threw his right arm forward.

  Sariel pivoted to the right and dodged backward, bringing the rock up into the blade, deflecting it just enough to miss his face. Then, he quickly dropped
and continued spinning as the carpal joint of the Iryllur’s wing passed overhead, also missing its mark.

  Sariel pushed to his feet and sidestepped the backhanded slash of the angel’s other vaepkir. Then he moved in quickly and swung the rock for the Iryllur’s face.

  But the blow only glanced off the angel’s forehead as he dodged to the side of the assault and tackled Sariel who was now too close for weapons.

  Both soldiers fell to the ground in a tumble.

  Sariel suddenly found himself on his back with the attacker pinning him to the ground. Pushing his wings outward across the rough gravel, Sariel used the added stability to quickly bring his legs underneath the Iryllur. With one powerful thrust, he plowed his feet into the angel’s chest and sent him flying through the air.

  As they both struggled to their feet, a massive, hairy shape lunged from the rocks to the right and plowed into Semjaza’s soldier. In a flurry of wings and teeth, the two creatures rolled across the rocky terrain. A sharp growl cut through the air and the arms and legs that were flailing abruptly stopped.

  Sariel rose from his crouching position and walked slowly over to Batarel, who remained still.

  The Myndar’s powerful animal form stood on top of the other with his massive jaws clamped on the angel’s throat. A pool of blood was quickly forming beneath the head of the defeated soldier, whose wingtips now quivered with residual nervous energy.

  He was already dead.

  “It’s done,” Sariel said softly.

  Batarel released his grip on the enemy, then shaped to his angelic form. In the harsh silence, he stood up on two legs and looked down at the soldier. “I’ve never done this before.”

  “Killed?” Sariel asked quietly, after a pause.

  “I’ve hunted, but never one of my own.”

  Sariel put his hand on Batarel’s shoulder.

  “There was another group farther to the east, but they didn’t see anything,” Tamael growled, climbing down from the rocks above in his animal form. When he reached the ledge, he came over and sniffed the dead Iryllur, then looked up at Batarel, whose angelic form was marred by the blood that covered his face and chest. “I suppose your meeting could have gone worse,” he said to Sariel.

  “He takes great pride in having abandoned all the principles that he used to live by. There’s no reasoning with him.”

  “I told you as much,” Tamael snarled. “So, what are you going to do now?”

  Sariel breathed deeply for a moment, trying to clear his mind so that he could think through his options. The only bargaining tool he had was his own freedom, but that would defeat the purpose of rescuing Sheyir. He wanted to be with her, and trading his own freedom for hers wouldn’t accomplish that. He would do it if only to save her, but that was a last resort. No. Bargaining with Semjaza was pointless. Sariel had met his type before, but usually among the Marotru. As he looked out at the western horizon, now illuminated by the moon, he admitted to himself that Semjaza was right about one thing. The only effective tool in this world was leverage. And this left him with only one option.

  “Why did the Myndarym come here?”

  Tamael turned his feline head, clearly not expecting such an esoteric question at a time like this. “Uh … freedom, I guess,” he answered finally.

  “After your obligations to Semjaza, what did you hope to do with your earned freedom?”

  “Whatever we wanted,” Batarel mumbled.

  “I suppose that’s the point,” Tamael answered. “I, for one, spent a great many hours shaping this world. And I rather enjoy roaming the land in one of the forms that I shaped.”

  Sariel nodded. “And the others? I assume they would have similar answers?”

  “What are you getting at?” Tamael asked finally.

  Sariel put his hand on his chin and exhaled. “How will you ever have your freedom when Semjaza sits on his throne? He doesn’t even try to hide his aspirations. He will continue to expand his kingdom until it covers the earth. Any freedom you have by running will only end eventually.”

  Tamael raised his eyebrows. “You want us to go war against him?” he asked. The expression on his face was something between fear and amusement.

  Sariel remained silent.

  “The Myndarym are not going to risk their lives for your woman,” he stated bluntly.

  “I’m not asking you to go to war for a woman. That’s my reason,” he said. “I’m only stating the obvious—Semjaza stands in the way of what you want. So, the question is, what are you going to do about it?”

  Batarel now looked up from the body of the dead Iryllur.

  Tamael was silent for a moment. “We’re not soldiers like you.”

  Sariel nodded to the angel lying at their feet. “It seems to me that in all your time with Semjaza, helping him build a fortress and prepare his defenses, you learned something.”

  “They outnumber us three to one,” Batarel pointed out. “And they’re trained for this sort of thing.”

  Sariel nodded. “True. But what if you fought alongside someone who was trained in war? What if you outnumbered Semjaza?”

  “The Amatru?” Tamael asked. “They want us dead as much as Semjaza does.”

  Sariel held up a finger. “It’s not a question of what they want, but what they are willing to accept. Granted, none of us are on good terms with them any longer. But I suspect that the reason they haven’t destroyed Semjaza yet is that they don’t have the resources, or confidence that the outcome will be as they hope.”

  “You’ve gone mad,” Tamael concluded.

  “Have I? The Myndarym and the Amatru now have a common enemy. What I’m proposing is actually quite sane.”

  Batarel looked straight at Sariel, his fearless eyes unflinching. “How is an untrained group of Shapers and an under-resourced army going to defeat Semjaza?”

  Sariel smiled at the angel’s practical observation. “You and the other Shapers know more than you realize. Your inside knowledge of Semjaza’s fortress, capabilities, and strategy is critical intelligence for the Amatru. With your involvement, the resources would be allocated.”

  “Are you saying that you will go before the Amatru to make this proposal? Because none of us are that stupid,” Tamael stated.

  Sariel smiled again. “I’ll try not to be offended by that. And yes, I’ll handle the coordination.”

  “Very well,” Tamael replied after a moment’s pause. “We’ll take this before the Myndarym and see if they are willing.”

  “We don’t have any more time to waste,” Sariel replied. “Semjaza grows stronger by the minute. You must convince the Myndarym while I do the same with the Amatru.”

  “They will not like us making this arrangement on their behalf. What if they refuse?” asked Batarel.

  Sariel stared hard into the unwavering eyes. “Then your freedom will be short-lived.”

  Batarel looked down to his fellow Myndar as he considered Sariel’s words. Then his eyes returned and he nodded his agreement.

  “Don’t tell the Amatru where we live,” Tamael growled. “Whatever agreement you come to, don’t betray us to them.”

  “Of course,” Sariel agreed. “And you … travel quietly. Semjaza knows we’re working together. The only reason he let me go was so that I would lead his soldiers to the Myndarym.”

  Tamael nodded.

  Batarel shaped to his animal form.

  Seconds later, as the two Myndarym moved eastward across the mountain face, Tamael turned his head. “Godspeed,” he said in farewell.

  Indeed, Sariel thought. His mind was already racing with the anticipation of what lay ahead.

  * * * *

  ARAGATSIYR

  From beneath the shade of a tree, Enoch watched the rippling water as it left the river and followed the narrow path toward Aragatsiyr. It had become his favorite place since the day he described his vision to the Myndarym.

  Or was it more than a vision? Was I really there?

  He couldn’t be sure.
All he knew was that the angels now treated him differently. Not with contempt, but with neglect. It was as if they were choosing to believe that he wasn’t there or didn’t exist.

  And who could blame them?

  No one wanted to be confronted with their mistakes, their low standing with the Holy One. And Enoch was simply a physical representation of their judgment. While they had chosen to forget about him, he made it easier by staying on the outskirts of the city. He foraged for food in the nearby forests, but hadn’t yet received any indication that he should leave.

  Holy One, I am confused. I do not know why You asked me to come to these creatures. I have not been able to prevent them from doing what is against Your desire. I once believed that You sent me to befriend them, but I think they wish to be rid of me now. I pray that You give me wisdom. Reveal to me what You want of me. I am useless now, going about as an animal in the forest. Though I have little contact with them, each day I feel their discomfort growing. What should happen if they choose to be rid of me forever? What then? It would be nothing for creatures of such power. I just—

  “Prophet,” a voice spoke softly.

  Enoch jumped at the sound. Turning, he noticed Ananel standing a few paces off.

  “I’m sorry to startle you.”

  “It’s no trouble. What can I do for you?”

  Ananel smiled. “Talk with me?”

  “Of course.”

  Ananel walked closer and bent down, leaning his angelic form against the same tree so that they were almost back to back, but could see each other if they turned their heads. “You know,” he began. “I like you. You are an honest man. When I look at you, there is nothing of deceit or falsehood.”

  Enoch continued to stare out at the river, not knowing what to say in response.

  “That’s why you should come back.”

  “Back? To the city?”

  “Yes,” Ananel answered.

  “But the Myndarym would be troubled by my presence,” Enoch protested.

  “True. For a little while. But your honesty will put them at ease in time.”

  “Hmm,” Enoch mumbled, feeling like he was speaking to his wife, Zacol. She always seemed so sure of everything. Enoch rarely felt sure of anything, unless the Holy One revealed it to him.

  “With you living out here, away from us, it gives us too much time to think of only the bad things.”