by Jason Tesar
“Yes,” the prophet answered.
“Semjaza’s fortress is beyond the western end of this range. If they head in that direction, they’ll find us.”
The short man’s fingers wound nervously through this dark beard, but he nodded anyway.
Sariel reached over to the nearest bundle of weapons and untied the cord that bound them. The pale, fibrous cloth unrolled across the ground. From the pile, he chose two vaepkir, then stood up, feeling their comforting weight resting in his hands and the cold metal lying against the outside of his forearms.
“Take what you need and let’s move.”
“Just my teeth,” Ananel replied. His voice already sounded like the canine outline that his shimmering form began to take. When the process was complete, a massive grey wolf raised its head into the air and loosed a deep howl which spread across the valley. Then, with his snout to the ground, the Myndar burst into motion, running swiftly through the deep grass to the west.
One by one, the Myndarym shaped into their preferred forms, some as creatures of the air and some as creatures of the sky. Before he took to the air, Sariel noticed several Myndarym who were still in their angelic forms, wading into the nearby water. Seconds later, they began to shimmer, as well.
Sariel looked back to the odd assortment of flying creatures scattered across the field. They were waiting for his lead. He pulled his weapons to his chest and spread his wings. “Try to keep up!”
CHAPTER 24
WEST OF DALEN A-SORGUD
A massive bird of prey came to a quick, but graceful landing on the ground beside Sariel. The group of winged Myndar parted to make room for his sleek, brown form. With massive talons embedded into the soft earth, the bird’s head swiveled toward Sariel and its golden eyes fixed on his. Then its form began to shimmer.
“You were right—eleven Anduarym,” it said, as soon as it wore its angelic body. “They’re moving quickly across the plains to the west, about two miles away.”
Sariel breathed deeply, readying himself for the last charge. “And the weapons?”
“Each one of the brutes is carrying at least two bundles,” the Myndar replied.
Sariel nodded. The Anduarym are made for this sort of thing. Then he looked around at the peculiar assortment of winged creatures that made up his untrained group and was struck by the contrast. All of them were large, even in their animal forms, but none were designed for war. Few were even capable of a meaningful attack. It would be a challenge to make use of them all in a capacity that wouldn’t result in their deaths.
“Alright,” he said to the group. “We’ll have to move together and attack as one. We’ll only get one chance. After the first strike, they’ll change formation to ensure they’re protected on all sides. With their weapons, we won’t be able to do anything; it’ll become a waiting game. So, the first priority for you is to disarm them. Grab those bundles and anything else they’re carrying. If you can do that, they’ll be vulnerable for when the others arrive.”
“What about you?”
Sariel looked to the one who had scouted the Anduarym. His golden eyes were bright behind disheveled, brown hair. He almost looked like an Iryllur. “You and I have weapons,” he replied. “I want you to sink those talons deep into Anduar flesh and not let go until your prey is dead.”
The Myndar squinted, but remained silent.
“Let’s go,” Sariel said, taking to the air once more.
~
Vast plains stretched to the horizon, bordered on the south by mountains and water to the north. Sariel led the flying Myndarym swiftly across the terrain, staying close to the ground to keep their outlines visually obscured for as long as possible.
At the center of the thirty-mile wide flatlands, a small cluster of shapes could be seen moving due west. Their silhouettes were barely visible against the harsh backdrop of the setting sun, frequently disappearing as the fleeing soldiers moved in and out of the trees. The occasional glint of light reflected from the metallic weapons slung across their broad shoulders. The long and muscular legs of the Anduarym carried them quickly across the land and it appeared that they were trying to reach Semjaza as fast as possible.
But they were no match for the swift wings of the Shapers. As the Myndarym came upon the soldiers, Sariel pulled back slightly to tighten the formation and give the signal to attack. Then, he dove and pumped his wings furiously to gain speed. He brought his hands together and flexed his arms until his vaepkir were at their fullest extension. With silent precision, he targeted a space between two Anduarym and quickly retracted his wings at the last moment before impact. His narrow outline shot through the gap, but the weapons collided with the back of the soldiers’ legs, chopping their sturdy footing from underneath them. With most of his forward movement coming to an abrupt halt, Sariel instantly tucked into a ball and rolled as he hit the ground.
A flurry of sound followed.
Wet earth pounded his body.
Blades of grass lashed at his skin.
The bright colors on the horizon whipped past in a blur.
Sariel pushed his legs outward and came swiftly to his feet with vaepkir ready, facing the enemy.
The nine remaining soldiers were already breaking formation as the Myndarym fell upon them.
The grasslands erupted into a chaotic explosion of movement, color, and sound.
Piercing shrieks cut through the air amidst the clang of metal.
Great wings of dappled brown beat frantically as the giant eagle wrenched one soldier away from the group and attempted to drag him across the ground by the bare flesh of his back.
Another Anduar pitched forward and slid through the grass, holding tight to the cord that fastened his bundle. A ripping noise emerged from the uproar as a white, feathered creature rose into the air, still clutching a piece of coarse fabric. Spears scattered along the ground in its wake.
Sariel’s eyes darted from the two Anduarym he’d cut down, to another two who were coming at him now, both carrying vandrekt. He advanced slowly upon the larger angels, wary of their deadly strength and proficiency with bladed objects.
The one on the left stepped wide, while the other came straight at him.
A sudden flicker of movement in the sky to the left prompted Sariel to rush forward, keeping the soldiers’ attention on him. Raising his right arm, he feigned an attack and watched the eagle descend again.
It came from the northeast and plunged its talons deep into the back of the Anduar on the left.
The soldier fell forward without a struggle. His body went limp the moment his heart was punctured.
The eagle, with talons still embedded in its prey, flapped its giant wings to keep from being pulled to the ground.
To the right, a brightly-colored flurry of wings drew Sariel’s attention as another bird descended.
But the other Anduar was quicker. He turned and thrust his spear upward, plunging it through the bird’s chest. With a swift, pivoting motion, he brought the bird crashing to the ground and leaned on the spear to keep the animal’s desperate spasms from becoming a liability.
With the soldier’s attention diverted, Sariel lunged forward and brought his vaepkir to bear, cleaving a deep gash into the angel’s upper arm and chest.
The Anduar instantly released his grip on the spear and fell backward, spinning as the force of the bladed attack drove him to the ground.
Looking up from the immediate confrontation, Sariel was disappointed to see that the discipline of the ground soldiers had taken over. The six remaining Anduarym now had spears in hand and were assembled into a ring formation with their backs to each other.
The element of surprise was gone. The infantry were now ready to repel any further attacks.
* * * *
The moon shone brightly against the night sky, illuminating the fog that had settled into the shallow valley to the west. A short while ago, Ananel had passed over the bodies of four soldiers and one Myndar. Though the mist prevented hi
m from seeing anything beyond a few yards, he knew by scent that the Anduarym and his fellow Shapers were close. With his paws churning up the wet soil, he descended into the valley while the rest of the pack struggled to keep up with his rapid pace.
Trees and shrubbery slipped silently past. Only the swish of grass and his own breath could be heard. The scent of the soldiers gave Ananel direction, while his canine reflexes responded to the terrain that came out of the mist. Suddenly, the gray shroud lifted and a wide clearing could be seen. The air was moving to the south now and pushing the fog against the mountains.
Two hundred yards ahead, a cloud of frantic shapes swarmed in the air above a tight cluster of shadows moving along the ground. The Anduarym were on the move. The winged Myndarym were following from above, but seemed reluctant to prevent the movement of the soldiers.
As the pack neared the confrontation, Ananel realized why. The six remaining Anduarym were moving at a steady pace. Each one kept a hand on the shoulder of the next, while holding a spear outward with the other hand. The two at the rear were nearly running backwards, but their defense seemed effective.
To Ananel’s right, a feline broke away from the pack and charged ahead. Ananel wanted to loose a howl to bring Jomjael back, but he kept silent to maintain the advantage of surprise. His fellow Shaper must have seen a weakness and immediately responded to his animal instincts. As Jomjael swung wide and disappeared into the taller grass to the north, Ananel identified the weakness.
One of the soldiers held his spear in a different hand than the others. It restricted his forward movement and the awkwardness seemed to command more of his attention.
Before the soldier even had time to react, Jomjael burst from the deep grass and slipped under the blade of the spear. With all his might, he bit down hard on the Anduar’s upper leg. As the two dagger teeth on either side of his mouth sank into the muscled flesh, Jomjael brought his front claws around and gripped the lower body of the soldier. He pulled his rear legs off the ground and allowed his weight to drag the soldier downward.
But the Anduar ran on with incredible strength, and maintained his footing. With a silent grimace, he retracted his spear and drove it through Jomjael’s stomach.
The feline’s left claw slipped free, but he bit down harder and refused to release his prey.
Another soldier stepped out of formation and thrust his vandrekt through Jomjael’s chest.
Immediately, the Shaper’s animal body went limp and fell to the ground and the Anduarym continued their relentless march to the west.
* * * *
With his higher vantage point, Sariel saw Jomjael long before the enemy did, but still too late to prevent the attack. When the second spear punched through Jomjael’s chest behind the shoulder, Sariel banked to the right and positioned himself between the enemy and the other land animals fast approaching. He came to a hover above the ground and waved his hands erratically, trying to draw their attention. He knew it was pointless to attack the Anduarym, and Jomjael’s senseless death only proved it.
Running low and swift across the plains, the four-legged Myndarym came through the tall grass. When they noticed Sariel, they slowed their approach.
“Don’t attack,” Sariel called out. “It’s useless.”
“What can we do?” Ananel growled.
Sariel came to a landing in front of the pack. “Surround them. Stay close enough to harass them and probe their defense. But don’t commit to an attack. We’ll do the same from the air. All we can do now is try and slow them down.”
Ananel’s wolfen snout snarled in frustration. “And what if they reach Semjaza?”
“Let’s hope they grow weary and make a mistake before then,” Sariel replied.
~
The sky grew light in the east.
Sariel took to the air again, just as one of the winged Myndarym landed. Earlier in the evening, he had implemented a rotation to allow one member of the winged group to rest every fifteen minutes. The four-legged Myndarym had also followed this example, but were still showing signs of exhaustion.
The Anduarym, wounded and carrying the extra burden of weapons, showed no signs of slowing. Their race was remarkable in situations like these and it saddened Sariel that they had abandoned their original purpose. It was truly a shame to have to fight against them, rather than at their side.
As the sun crept from behind the eastern horizon, the mountains to the south gave way to flatter terrain. From high in the air, the peak of Murakszhug could be seen along the southwestern horizon, a hundred and fifty miles away. And somewhere to the northwest of that mountain was Semjaza’s fortress.
Time was running out.
Moving into position over the Anduarym, Sariel reversed his grip on his weapons. Holding the blades of the vaepkir out in front of him now, he considered the price of an attack. Their range with spears far exceeded that of the weapons he held. And each attempt to attack would surely cost the life of at least one Myndar. He could attempt to throw his weapons, but the vaepkir weren’t designed for that. It would likely be a waste of good weaponry.
Slowly, he breathed a sigh of exhaustion and looked to the sunrise. Somewhere out there behind the mist, dozens of miles across terrain already covered, new weapons lay scattered among the trees and grass. Unfortunately, Sariel had neither the strength, nor the time, to retrieve them.
Just as all hope seemed lost, he noticed a dark cloud moving quickly across the land. He watched in fascination as it sped over the trees, constantly changing in color, while its shape became more evident with each passing second. Alternating flashes of dark and light were interspersed with the glint of reflected sunlight.
As soon as Sariel recognized the narrow, pointed column formation, he smiled. For he knew the terror induced by the charge of an armored wing of Iryllurym. He remembered his years of flying at the head of such formations; the feeling of exhilaration at the first strike; the look on the faces of the enemy as they realized, too late, what they were up against. And before they even arrived, Sariel knew that the Anduarym below were now breathing their last breaths upon the earth.
“To me!” he shouted. “All of you! Come to me!”
The Myndarym looked confused, but were too weary to object. Slowly, the creatures peeled away from the running soldiers and came toward Sariel’s hovering form.
Moments later, the air was thick with the drone of wings. Fer-Rada Danduel’s soldiers came like lightning across the fields. With armored chests and bladed forearms, two wings of Iryllurym, ninety-eight in all, engulfed the tiny Anduar force and broke them into pieces. Spearheads were sheared from their shafts, along with the limbs that held them. Heads rolled across the ground as the lifeless bodies were scattered across the plains. The formation of winged angels poured over, around, and through the enemy as would a wave hitting a rocky shoreline.
In the aftermath, Sariel descended to the grass and waited while the soldiers of the Amatru circled back to land gracefully among the carnage they had just created.
“The prophet said we’d find you here,” said one of the Iryllurym, stepping forward and removing his helmet.
Sariel recognized Fim-Rada Nuathel from his recent visit to the Eternal Realm. “You’re early! Thank you for your assistance,” he replied, inclining his head slightly. “We weren’t making much progress against their defense.”
Nuathel wore a scowl on his face and remained silent.
Sariel was a traitor in his eyes, and this meeting was simply something he had to endure. Under different circumstances, the disappointed look would have been unbearable. But Sheyir was in danger. Every other emotion—regret, shame, even fear—was swallowed up by his love for her.
“Where is Danduel?” Sariel asked, dismissing the cold reception of the officer.
“The Fer-Rada sent us ahead,” Nuathel replied, emphasizing the fact that Sariel hadn’t used the officer’s proper title. “He and his Anduarym will be here by the day’s end.”
“Very w
ell,” Sariel replied with equal coldness.
CHAPTER 25
DALEN A-SORGUD
After giving the weapons and armor to the soldiers of the Amatru, Enoch watched them go their separate ways. The Iryllurym took to the air while the Anduarym ran through the fields to the west. The holy Myndarym, who had shifted the soldiers into this realm, disappeared just as the Speaker had done in Haragdeh. The Vidirym, who seemed the most secretive, had come from the Eternal Realm directly into the nearby water. Enoch didn’t get a good look at them, but did manage to catch a glimpse of bluish green skin. As they slipped beneath the water, something trailed behind them, disturbing the smooth surface.
When they were gone, silence descended like a thick blanket, the likes of which Enoch hadn’t experienced in months. Stranger than this abrupt change was the fact that Enoch now felt quite lonely. Though he’d always been a recluse by nature, he’d been living with the Myndarym for quite some time and had grown accustomed to their presence. Looking now across the water and the patches of fog swirling over the grass, he wondered what he should do. Aragatsiyr was vacant now, as all the Myndarym had gone to war. And Semjaza’s stone city, which Enoch had named Malakiyr, was soon to be a battlefield. Neither place held any purpose for him, which led him to wonder if his responsibilities had been fulfilled.
Immediately, his thoughts turned to his family. He missed Zacol and remembered now the way her eyes filled with tears the day he left. And little Methu, the way he was fascinated by something he’d found on the ground. Enoch even missed his tribe; the usual mild disdain with which they treated him, now seemed comfortingly familiar in light of everything that had occurred since he had left. He missed the feeling of peacefulness that he experienced when sitting in the fields at night, watching from a distance as families huddled together around fires, staring into the flames. He missed the sound of the animals that grazed in the fields of Sedekiyr. And, as strange as it seemed, he even missed the smells that went along with them. It was the smell of home. The air in this place was cleaner, with more pleasing fragrances, but he could almost smell the loneliness beneath it. Enoch slowly closed his eyes.
Holy One. Once again, I find myself alone. You have allowed me to see such strange and marvelous things, but now I am reminded of the ache in my heart. I miss my family and my home. Is there more that You require of me? For greater than any other desire of mine is that which seeks to obey Your voice. You know what my needs are. You know what is best for me and my family; for this world. Is there more that You require?