by Jason Tesar
Ahead, the grass was parted into a wake behind the steaming body of the flailing creature. Blood was scattered everywhere from the severed limbs. To the right, the dark outline of the Pri-Rada rose from the grass. Shrouded in a drifting patch of mist, his condition was unknown. But judging by his unhindered movements and the fact that he still held both a shield and a spear, Sariel guessed that he was not injured by the fall. In fact, he appeared to have expected it.
Slowly, the mist passed to the southeast.
Semjaza’s massive form remained still. Standing a full head taller than the typical Anduar soldier, he towered head-and-shoulders over Sariel. The burning embers of his eyes were fixed on Sariel.
The returning Iryllurym dropped to the field on all sides, forming a perimeter of two hundred feet to enclose the pair of combatants. The wailing sound of the dying creature came to an abrupt stop as one of the winged angels put the abomination out of its misery.
Semjaza didn’t even flinch. He just stood with vandrekt and skoldur hanging at his sides. His body was tense, ready, but unmoving.
“The last time we spoke, I made you a promise.” Sariel’s voice seemed to disappear into the vast openness of the plains. He removed his helmet and cast it aside, so that Semjaza could see him clearly.
“… if you didn’t release my woman, I would bring your kingdom to an end.”
Semjaza quickly brought his shield up and burst forward into a run. Lunging, he thrust his spear at Sariel’s chest.
Sariel pivoted to the side and diverted the attack with his left blade. The sound of clanging metal rang out over the grass.
Semjaza came forward again, stabbing repeatedly as he advanced.
Sariel quickly blocked each left-handed strike, moving backward with each one.
Again Semjaza lunged forward and stabbed.
This time Sariel stepped to the right of the vandrekt and brought his vaepkir across to parry the attack. In the same motion, he brought his right forewing around and drove the carpal joint over Semjaza’s outstretched arm and into his face. An audible smack accompanied the impact.
The Pri-Rada flinched at the surprise counter-attack and stumbled backward a few steps.
Sariel instantly surged forward and followed with a left cross, running his forearm blade across Semjaza’s exposed ribcage.
Immediately, the massive Anduar commander brought his shield around from the right side of his body and slammed it into Sariel.
Sariel was stunned and thrown backward by the force of the blow. Before he had time to recover, a sharp strike glanced off his bladed forearm and tore through the flesh of his upper arm. The pain brought him back to his senses immediately. Seeing the next spear thrust coming, Sariel dodged left and grabbed the shaft of the spear. As Semjaza pulled it back, Sariel rode the momentum and jumped forward, bringing his left blade over the top of Semjaza’s shield.
But the Anduar was too quick and strong, quickly ducking below the attack and using the momentum and the leverage of his shield to throw Sariel over his shoulder.
Unable to control himself, Sariel drifted twenty feet through the air before crashing to the ground. The wind was knocked from his lungs and he struggled to get his feet beneath him.
Semjaza was on him instantly, following the throw with a running jab.
On instinct, Sariel ducked under the spear and rolled forward, striking with his left forewing to take the Anduar’s legs from underneath him. But the blow only caused Semjaza to lose his balance just long enough for Sariel to get to his feet.
Now, the two enemies faced each other, both breathing heavily.
Semjaza’s face and chest were covered in the blood that flowed from his nose. And he was also bleeding heavily from the cut on the left side of his abdomen.
Sariel’s right arm was covered in red, as well, and dripping from the elbow. His face felt numb and he was sure he’d broken some ribs.
Before this fight, Sariel had been confident in the advantage of his speed. But the Anduar commander was nearly as fast, and much stronger. As Sariel studied his opponent, Semjaza came forward again, relentless in his aggression.
The spear came for Sariel’s face. He ducked and swung his left vaepkir as hard as he could. A sharp, metallic sound pierced the air as Sariel’s weapon shattered and Semjaza’s spear flew sideways, torn from his grip.
With his only weapon wielded by a wounded arm, Sariel was nearly helpless against Semjaza’s following charge. Struggling to bring his right arm up quickly enough, he was unable to stop the shield that smashed into his face and drove him backward. His feet slid across the damp grass, unable to find traction. Sariel was helpless against the ground soldier who had both a weight and height advantage.
As his strength was being rapidly depleted and the threat of being crushed to death neared, Sariel quickly pulled his feet inward and dropped to his back.
The sudden release of opposing force sent Semjaza stumbling forward.
As the Anduar’s shield passed overhead, Sariel rolled onto his left side and raised his right blade. Supporting it with his unwounded left arm, he shoved the point of the elbow blade upward through the bottom of Semjaza’s belly.
The next instant, Semjaza’s knee slammed into him, forcing him to the ground just as a foot came down and crushed the wind from his lungs.
Semjaza tripped forward and fell over Sariel to land face down in the damp soil.
The resulting silence was deafening as Sariel writhed in pain, fighting for a breath. It seemed his lungs wouldn’t obey him, as if they were afraid of the stabbing pain in his chest that threatened to kill him for the effort of breathing.
Rolling onto his back, Sariel felt the pain lessen slightly. A few seconds later, his body agreed to take a shallow breath. And then another spasm of pain, followed by a short breath. Slowly, he opened his eyes, realizing only now that his pain had been so distracting that he had left himself vulnerable to attack. Turning his head quickly, he was relieved to see the motionless form of Semjaza, lying face down in the grass with a pool of blood spreading around his dead body.
Slowly. Cautiously. Sariel rolled onto his right side and rose to his hands and knees. The stabbing pain in his chest remained, but he was now able to breathe steadily. Gritting his teeth, he pulled his feet underneath him and readied himself to stand, while Nuathel and his Iryllurym came near.
The Fim-Rada nodded.
Sariel returned the gesture, then began to shape himself to repair the damage.
* * * *
NORTH OF MURAKSZHUG
In the highland forests north of Murakszhug, Azael dodged the point of a vaepkir. Rushing inside the Iryllur’s range, Semjaza’s second-in-command grabbed the other angel by the throat and lifted him off his feet. Using his superior size and strength, he hefted the soldier of the Amatru and slammed his face into the side of a tree. When one blow failed to produce the results he wanted, he repeated it again, and again, each time harder until the soldier’s face became an indistinguishable mass of bloody flesh. Then, he tossed the soldier’s limp body aside.
Pale weaklings, he thought to himself with disgust.
Suddenly, he felt a shift in his spirit. Where once was an oppressive force, requiring submission, there was now only a void.
Not a void, he corrected himself. Freedom!
Without seeing it or hearing it, he knew instantly that Semjaza was dead. Smiling a wicked smile, he looked through the dense tangle of tree trunks to see his two remaining subordinates approaching. It was clear that they had also dispatched the last of the Amatru Iryllurym who had tracked them after they escaped from the fortress.
The dark angels stared back, feeling a similar sensation in their own spirits, though their immediate authority was still alive.
“The battle is over for us,” he told them.
“Yes, my Rada,” they both responded.
“To the mines,” he said, then spread his black wings.
CHAPTER 30
SOUTH OF MUDENA DEL
-EDHA
Just as Sariel’s body regained its whole, uninjured form, he felt the hands of two Iryllurym slip beneath his arms and gently lift him to a full standing position. “Thank you,” he muttered, grateful for the assistance.
The angels’ grip tightened.
“I have it,” he complained, shrugging his shoulders.
They held fast to his arms and their grip quickly became forceful and rigid. In the next moment, two more angels grasped his wings from behind, and he felt the blade of a vaepkir press against his neck.
Nuathel and another Iryllur walked forward.
Sariel assumed the last two were somewhere behind him, out of sight, likely with their weapons drawn.
“What are you doing?” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“We have to take you back,” the Fim-Rada answered.
Sariel stared hard at the soldier.
“You will stand trial and receive judgment for your disobedience,” Nuathel continued. “These are my orders.”
Sariel opened his mouth to respond, but quickly decided to keep silent. He had known deep down that this was a possibility. He’d even cautioned the Myndarym about it.
The Iryllurym pulled hard on his upper arms and turned him around to the north.
Instead of fighting, Sariel complied and walked with his captors, trying instead to remain calm, breathe carefully, and think quickly.
I could just shift out of their grasp, but they know where I’m going. They’ll just follow me. I have to kill them.
Sariel immediately began to run through hand-to-hand combat scenarios in his mind.
Two in front. Two beside. And two behind.
He’d been surrounded before, but never in this close of proximity. As each imagined battle came to an unacceptable end in his mind, his thoughts were slowly overwhelmed by the despair of never seeing Sheyir again.
What will happen to her? Who will protect her? Love her? No one.
She had no one in this world now. She was alone. And Sariel had come through too much to be with her.
Too much for this to stand in my way!
The blade pressed into his neck as they walked. He felt a warm trickle of wetness down his skin.
Nuathel and his second-in-command walked in front now with their backs turned. Their body language suggested they were confident that any threat had been neutralized.
Sariel had unwillingly come to the same conclusion. Tears began to form in his eyes. He thought of the coming trial, and the eternal judgment that would proceed from it. He was an enemy of the Amatru now, but not just a demon to be slain. He was special kind of enemy—a traitor.
As the hopelessness of his situation became more and more evident, something came alive inside him. Something that had been dormant for ages. Within his spirit, a mournful melody was born. It was the nature of a Shaper to hear and feel the Songs of Creation that flowed through everything; sustaining everything. And it was the nature of a Shaper to hear the melodies within his own spirit, and respond to them. But Sariel had followed a different path for so long that he had begun to wonder if his nature had changed; if the ability even existed any longer.
In his sadness, he heard the words of a friend.
It was an accident, but very effective.
In that moment, Sariel realized that the melody was the language of his spirit—the expression of his heart. And as his sadness translated into anger, he felt the melody twist and writhe inside him. What once would have frightened him, he now welcomed, for it brought with it a tremendous power that began to surge through his body. He felt invigorated, as in the early days when he had shaped creation. But this was more powerful. All consuming.
And darker than anything he’d experienced before.
He allowed the melody to grow and contort. To multiply into numerous, uncontrollable strands. His body began to shake with rage. His mouth opened. But instead of silence, a Song of Unshaping came forth. His anguish came out as a scream that blanketed the plains with its frightening power. Screams of fury were mixed with wails of sorrow; each dissonant tone woven together into a tapestry of darkness.
Sariel felt his body jolt as a spherical wave exploded outward from him. The sky and land seemed to distort as the pulse expanded and eventually dissipated into the vast openness of the plains.
Silence followed.
With eyes instinctively closed, Sariel waited, afraid to see what he’d done. One by one, his senses began to perceive his surroundings. The sound of the breeze moving through the grasses in the distance. The sound of insects buzzing nearby. The damp feeling of mist as it passed over his skin. The smell of the wet earth.
Sariel opened his eyes.
He was standing in a shallow depression of land. The grass underfoot was smashed into the soil, barely recognizable. All around him, the tall stalks of bright green vegetation were pushed on their sides, pointing outward. Sariel walked up the side of the earthen bowl and looked out across the plains. The effect of the pulse seemed to lessen with distance. The stalks of grass gradually transitioned from horizontal to vertical over a radius of two hundred feet. And randomly scattered within this diameter of Unshaping were the motionless forms of the Iryllurym. Sariel couldn’t tell if they were dead or just stunned. But the curiosity was fleeting.
He was free. And Sheyir was waiting.
Spreading his wings high into the air, he brought them down with all of his might as he jumped upward. One day, when there would be time to meditate on such things, he would think about this moment. He would consider what had happened and the implications of it. But not now. Now, he sped north, faster than he’d ever flown in his life.
* * * *
MUDENA DEL-EDHA
Fer-Rada Danduel stared at the abominations of flesh before him. They were huddled together with the women, and despite their size they cowered behind the tiny females. “Come here,” he commanded the largest one.
The creature glanced nervously about, but remained crouched behind the mothering presence of the humans.
One of Danduel’s soldiers stepped into the huddle and put a spear to the creature’s neck. “Get up!” he ordered.
Finally, the creature stood and began to make his way over to the Anduar officer.
As it came forward, Danduel inspected it. It was male. It moved upright on two legs. Judging by its facial features and body construction, it seemed to be a hybrid of Anduar and human. He estimated its height to be fifteen feet tall. And though it was larger than an Anduar, its gangly movements gave the impression that it was young, not yet fully grown.18
“Do you speak?” the Fer-Rada asked, having to look up at the youth.
The other Anduar stood near, still pointing his spear at the creature.
“Yes,” he mumbled.
What is Semjaza doing? Danduel mused as he circled slowly around the revolting beast, examining its smooth, hairless skin and muscular build. Then, his eyes drifted across the soil of the peninsula to the rest of Semjaza’s slaves. There were several other such creatures in the small crowd, all of various sizes. One infantile beast was even being held across the breast of a woman, and was already twice the size of a newborn human. Danduel felt the bile rise in his throat at the detestable image.
“My Rada,” a quickly approaching soldier called out.
Danduel turned away in disgust. “Yes?”
“The fortress is secure, but the Myndarym are nowhere to be found. It’s as if they disappeared.”
The Fer-Rada felt his face grow hot. “Send out your most skilled trackers. I want them found. The rest of us—let us be away from this place of wickedness! Nuathel will be needing our help by now. Move out.”
“Rada Talad!” the obedient soldiers shouted.
* * * *
THE MOUNTAINS SOUTH OF MUDENA DEL-EDHA
Breathing heavily, Sariel hid in the shadows of an overhang and looked from the cliffs northward along the peninsula road. The Fer-Rada and his Anduarym had evacuated the fortress and were
marching now toward the eastern gate. Behind them, a small group of women were gathered near the entrance of Aryun Del-Edha. Among the women were several larger creatures who appeared human but for their angelic size. Sariel’s trained eyes took in everything at a glance, but his will was focused on only one thing. One person.
There she is! Sheyir’s alive!
He jumped from the cliffs and kept his wings only partially extended, dropping quickly toward the cove below. The jagged rocks passed by in seconds and the bare soil of the peninsula rushed up to meet him. Sariel extended his wings further and pulled up to flatten out above the road, which was now only a blur beneath him. The wind whipped at his face as his wings cut through the air with rapid efficiency. Everything on the horizon disappeared and all he could see was Sheyir.
Banking quickly right, then left, he maneuvered around several women wandering along the road. Their screams of surprise began to fill the air in a rolling succession as each one took notice of him.
“SHEYIR!” he shouted.
She quickly turned her head.
In that moment, as Sariel’s wings shot outward and abruptly slowed his Iryllur body, it seemed as though time itself came to a crawl.
Sheyir’s eyes widened.
Sariel inhaled.
She squinted.
He reached out his hands.
Her face softened as she reached forward.
He glided gently toward her and lifted her from the road.
She grasped him tightly.
With both arms around her, Sariel pulled Sheyir to his chest as his wings thrust downward and lifted them both into the sky. “It’s alright,” he told her. His calm voice was a stark contrast to the straining of his body. “I have you now. It’s alright,” he kept saying.
The tower of Aryun Del-Edha dropped away below them as Sariel flew north over the cliffs. When the mountains passed beneath them, he leveled out and banked to the northwest. Through the rush of air passing by, he heard a faint voice.
“Is it really you?”
“I’m sorry, my love” he replied, looking down into Sheyir’s glistening eyes. “I’ll never leave you again.”
Sheyir closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest.
Her clothes and hair were still wet from the flooded passage. Her skin displayed numerous abrasions and she looked thinner than normal. “Did he hurt you? Did Semjaza hurt you?” he asked.
Sheyir kept her face buried, but her head moved from side to side.