Enaya: Solace of Time

by Justin C. Trout

  Then two figures emerged from a dragon in the middle of the village. One had long, black hair, wearing a black leather trench coat, and the other was wearing a black leather uniform with a cape.

  “Do not harm them,” Norcross said.

  Ramiel snorted at Norcross.

  The soldiers went at ease, and Norcross walked up to them. “This is the beginning of a new world.”

  “And what is that?” Bancroft asked, lowering his arms to grab his children’s hands.

  “The Lucian Empire.”

  The soldiers forced the villagers into a large circle around Norcross and Ramiel. Children were crying as they clutched their parents. Bancroft looked down at Jacob and pulled him closer to his leg.

  The women were sobbing; the men were standing still, emotionless, almost like Bancroft. They had to be just as bemused as he was, but their puzzled faces disappeared as the soldiers pressed their weapons on their backs and forced them to walk closer to Norcross.

  “You can either join the Lucian Empire or die,” Ramiel snarled.

  Bancroft gulped.

  Ramiel pointed his blade at every villager until he stopped at a young man with golden hair.

  “You,” Ramiel said, staggering to him.

  The man tightened his fist.

  “Where is your family?” Ramiel asked, getting close enough for the tip of his sword to caress the man’s neck.

  The man nervously pointed to two slain bodies. He then turned to Ramiel, his whole body shivering in fear. Ramiel smiled. “Are you going to hurt me?” he asked.

  Ramiel lowered his sword and reached for the man’s shirt. He pulled him closer, rubbing his cold cheek against the man’s. Ramiel whispered into his ear, his long slimy tongue flicking off the man’s earlobe. “You can live forever.”

  The man shook.

  Ramiel’s tongue surfed down the man’s cheek and back into his narrow jaw. The man stared into his two black pits for eyes. “I can taste the fear on you. You are but a child, and I, your master. I want you to join the Lucian Empire.”

  The man closed his eyes. “I-I asked you, if you were . . . was going to hurt me?”

  “Do you join the Lucian Empire?”

  The man’s lips trembled, but he murmured, “No.”

  Ramiel pushed the man down and brought his sword above his neck. He sniffed across the village. Ramiel was bred of nothing but evil. He sniffed again, picking up the sense of fear and dirt and horse manure that spread across the village. He brought down his sword and . . .

  Everyone flinched and screamed. Women fell to their knees, embracing their children. Olivia pulled in her four small children. Bancroft watched, then glared at Ramiel with such anger that he almost ran to him and punched him. His fist balled and Ramiel walked in front of the crowd, pointing to different people.

  “Do I need to ask?” Ramiel said.

  Norcross was smirking behind the dark creature.

  A soldier fired his rifle to hush the crowd.

  “Do I need to ask you all again?” Ramiel asked. This time he pointed to an older gentleman in his late fifties. Ramiel approached him and placed his sword at his neck. “How about you?”

  The man begged and pleaded for his life like a fool, and Ramiel told him that the only way he could live was if he joined the Lucian Empire. The man fell to his knees and kissed Ramiel’s feet as if he were a god, and then Ramiel grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back up, shoving him toward Norcross, who eagerly guided him to a ship.

  Ramiel walked toward a woman who immediately fell to her knees crying. “Why are you doing this?”

  “To establish order,” Ramiel said. “Do you join?”

  “Yes!”

  A young man denied his offer, and Ramiel pushed him to the ground like the child before and took off his head. Ramiel smiled as he looked at his audience. “It’s a shame for such bravery to go to waste.”

  Medwyn took a step back, stepping on something hard. He glanced at his feet and under his toes was a hoe. He then looked up at Ramiel, who was getting closer with each sniff, and then he looked to the tool.

  It was so tempting, almost like the hoe was telling him to grab it.

  But he had no plan. What was he going to do? He had to save his life and his family. Then a conversation played out in his mind—a conversation between him and his father about him becoming a man and fighting for what was his.

  Bancroft looked at his family with tears in his eyes. “No matter what happens to us, we are still a family. I love you all dearly.”

  His children, scared and crying, said nothing, but Olivia placed a hand on his forearm and blew a weak and worried kiss to him. He knew his family loved him, and he knew that they knew he loved them. This family was raised and taught on love, and every night before bedtime, they had to hug and kiss each other before being tucked away.

  “Father, you spoke earlier that one day I will be a man and might have to defend my family,” Medwyn said.

  Bancroft’s eyes widened. “Son?”

  “Today, Father, I defend what’s mine.” Medwyn reached down and grabbed the hoe.

  “Whatever you are planning, do not do it. I’m begging you,” Bancroft said.

  “Run, and don’t stop running,” Medwyn said. He turned and felt a large hand grab his forearm.

  “I’m begging you,” Bancroft pleaded with tears in his eyes.

  Olivia was crying, as well as his brothers and sisters. Medwyn shook Bancroft’s hand off his arm. “Trust me, Father.”

  The sincerity in Medwyn’s innocent eyes flooded through Bancroft like a plague and he cried. His tears disappeared into his forest of a beard and he sucked in his lower lip. His hand shook as he pulled it away from Medwyn, but he understood. He understood that he should be doing this, not Medwyn, but he knew if something happened to Medwyn, his other children would still need him, so he grabbed for his children.

  “Do you join?” Ramiel asked, nearly dancing toward a young woman, trying to bring laughter to the crowd.

  She said yes, and soldiers accompanied her to the ship. Then Ramiel came to Medwyn. The other dozens of villagers from Azeul were nervous and backed away, even Bancroft and his family. Medwyn gripped the hoe and hid it slightly behind his back.

  “Do you join?”

  Medwyn brought the hoe around and hit Ramiel in the face. The elf staggered back and brought up his sword, slashing through the hoe and kicking Medwyn down. Bancroft passed Asia to Olivia, then took his family and ran toward the dirt road. Ramiel sniffed them and signaled for the soldiers to chase after them.

  “Do not kill them!” Ramiel screamed as the soldiers passed him by. He sniffed down at Medwyn and placed a foot on his chest. Slyly, he whispered, “You made a mistake.”

  Medwyn pushed Ramiel’s foot off him and jumped up. He brought both ends of the hoe around and hit Ramiel in the face again. Ramiel stumbled to the ground, and then Norcross intervened. Norcross held up his right hand, and Medwyn lifted off the ground.

  The villagers backed away and watched as Medwyn mimicked Norcross’s hand. “You foolish boy, do you not know anything?”

  “What’s it to you?” Medwyn said angrily.

  Norcross flipped his right hand to the side and Medwyn flew into the pinwheel. Then he fell into the creek, and the pinwheel collapsed on him. Ramiel got to his feet and turned to the crowd. There was a large gash across his forehead, oozing with blood that was a very dark color, and it stunk too. The smell was awful, even for Norcross. Ramiel slowly moved his head from side to side, and the wound pulled together, the blood drying up within seconds..

  “Place them all under arrest,” Ramiel said. “Kill no one. Thanks to your little friend over there.” He pointed to the collapsed pinwheel. “Now you all will suffer.”

  The soldiers scattered through the villagers and forced them toward the airships.

  “Give me a few minutes,” Ramiel said to Norcross. Norcross nodded, and Ramiel fell to the ground and exploded into crows, following the s
oldiers that were after Bancroft and his family.

  Bancroft was badly out of shape. He sat down Jacob on a log and wiped away the sweat. He glanced over his shoulder; the silhouettes of the soldiers bounced between tree and tree. He picked up Jacob and started running again, but his family was already ahead of him. He pushed hard and . . .

  BAM!

  A tree shattered to his right. Bark flew in his face. He ran past it, glanced back to see a hole through the tree. He pushed even faster, his legs growing tired and weak, but he had to keep moving. He had to push forward for his family. He had to.

  Something hit his back. Had he been shot? He glanced behind him and saw a crow pecking at his shoulder, ripping and tearing at his skin. Bancroft shrugged his shoulders and moved his upper torso around, forcing the crow off him. Another crow hit him in the center of his spine and its beak burned like fire. Bancroft spun around to throw off the crows, but tripped over a log.

  The crows flooded over Bancroft, pecking at Jacob’s little fingers as he tightened his grip. Bancroft rolled over, cradling Jacob, and pushed himself up on his knees, then to his feet. He took off running.

  Jacob buried his head in Bancroft’s chest, swiping as the crows hit his fingers, picking off flesh. He pulled his hands from around his father and smothered them between his and his father’s stomach.

  The crows lifted off Bancroft and Jacob and dashed toward the rest of his family. Bancroft picked up his pace, but it was too late. He saw his wife trip, losing Asia, and the crows towered over Olivia, picking at her skin.

  Asia got to her feet with the help from June. They kicked at the crows, crying as they did. Nicolas helped his mother up to her feet, and they turned to run again until two shots were fired, hitting the trees around them. Olivia hunched over, ducking under a round of bullets, and regrouped with her children. They continued running, Bancroft behind them, ready to collapse.

  “There!” Asia screamed.

  The crystallized entrance to the crystal caverns glimmered in the sunlight. Bancroft put Jacob to his feet, forcing him to follow his family, and Bancroft ran past the caverns, drawing off the soldiers and the crows. He was determined to run as fast as he could, until he came to a sudden stop before a cliff. He looked down, peering into the trees below that were so thick they covered the ground.

  The crows landed, formed together, and Ramiel stood before him. There was a wicked evil grin upon his face, and he pulled out his sword and stepped to Bancroft. Behind Ramiel, the soldiers disappeared into the caverns.

  Olivia ran to the back of the cave, the large sharp crystals reflecting her image. The crystals blossomed outward, poking the children as they ran by. Olivia saw a reflection of a soldier gleaming off a towering crystal behind her. Then four reflections followed, and their rifles looked bigger than they actually did.

  Olivia pushed her children between two large crystallized walls. They grunted and moaned as they squeezed between the sharp edges, scraping their arms. Jacob pushed through, getting his legs caught between two rough edges.

  “Go on, Jacob,” Olivia said, forcing him through there.

  “I’m stuck,” Jacob said, pulling at his legs.

  Asia reached down and grabbed his hand, pulling him as hard as she could until Jacob slid through the edges. Then Olivia forced herself between the walls. The edges tore at her dress.

  “Down here,” said a soldier.

  Their footsteps smacked against the crystal floor and they ran past Olivia. She flinched as three soldiers passed them. But there were four. Where was the fourth one? Olivia slightly looked out, seeing the reflection of the fourth soldier step in, glancing between corners.

  Olivia’s lips trembled. “Be quiet.” June and Asia grabbed each other’s hands. Nicolas closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, and Jacob held his breath. Olivia pulled her hands up and grasped them, whispering a prayer. She heard the footsteps get closer and closer.

  “Got them,” he said, lashing around the side, aiming at Olivia. The three soldiers trotted back, their weapons high. “Come out.”

  Olivia froze.

  “Out! Now!” shouted the soldier.

  Olivia looked at her children, shaking in fear. Nicolas blinked, his tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, and he nodded to his mother, choking on his spit. Olivia stepped out, reaching for Jacob, and pulled him out. The others squeezed between the walls and pushed their little bodies out and the soldiers grabbed them, jerked them to the ground, and chained them together.

  “Please,” Olivia cried, “please don’t hurt them, my babies! I beg of you, please.”

  A soldier linked a chain from Olivia to her children and aimed his gun at her, forcing her to start walking. They passed through the cavern until they saw the sunlight refracting off the crystals. The soldiers pushed them out into a line and forced them to stand still.

  Beyond was Bancroft, standing before Ramiel. He had his hands in the air and was saying something. His face was blood red and his beard was soaked in sweat. Olivia began to cry and the children were on their knees, lunging forward, reaching for Bancroft.

  “Why?” Bancroft asked, catching his breath.

  Behind Ramiel, the soldiers were probing his children in the head with their rifles. There was an immediate pain that hit Bancroft, like a heart attack. He sure hoped he would have one before the dark elf did his biding.

  Two soldiers ran to join Ramiel. One of them, with a white badge across his shoulder, said, “We got them.”

  “Get this one,” Ramiel said, sheathing his sword.

  The soldiers rushed to Bancroft, but he fought back. He pulled around his massive fist, pounding one soldier in the helmet. They struggled back and forth, pulling at Bancroft’s arms like he was an animal, and Bancroft fought and kicked free until the butt of a rifle caught him above his lip and under his nose. Bancroft staggered back, losing his balance, and the other soldier struck at him with his rifle, hitting him across the face.

  Bancroft’s foot rolled off the edge of the cliff, sliding down in loose rock and dirt. He grabbed a root, pulling himself up, but the dirt gave in and rolled with Bancroft, taking him over the cliff, hitting every branch and twig. His body rolled in giant tumbles and finally, he came to sudden stop, his face slamming against the ground.

  “No!” Olivia screamed.

  Nicolas fell to the ground. His sobs blew dust across his face. Asia leaned into Nicolas, her head tucking between his ear and shoulder. “Do not cry,” she whispered, kissing his ear.

  “My husband and my son,” Olivia cried, pulling at the chains as if she could muster enough strength to break free.

  Ramiel lurched toward Olivia. “Brave men die honorably.”

  “He-he was an honorable man. You killed him.”

  “He killed himself,” Ramiel said, sniffing at her, his nostrils flaring wide.

  Olivia forced herself up on her feet and spat at Ramiel. Her saliva stretched from his brow to the inside of his eye. Ramiel wiped it off. Then he slapped Olivia in the face. He grabbed her by the throat and pulled her closer to him. He slid his tongue across her pale cheek, his eyeless pits staring into her soul.

  “Sir,” said a soldier, aiming at the Magical. “Awaiting orders.”

  “Take them to the ship,” Ramiel said, throwing Olivia back. She barely caught her balance.

  ***

  Light slid across the two little slits of Bancroft’s barely opened eyes. He rolled to his back, grunted in pain, and met the canopy of trees above. Excruciating pain numbed his right shoulder, but it hurt to look down. His large barren hands felt their way across his chest, to his shoulder to feel something rough. Bancroft fingered the object, until he forced himself to look down, and to his dismay, a stick was poking through his shoulder, stained with blood.

  There were several large rocks poking from the ground. Bancroft reached for one and pulled himself up. The pain tightened in his shoulder and he screamed until he finally came up against the rough surface. He glanced across
his body; his legs were torn and bleeding through the tears in his britches, and his shirt was stained with sweat and dirt and blood.

  He looked at the branch sticking through his shirt; parts of skin wrapped around it and chunks of blood stuck to it like glue. He tightened his hand over the branch and pulled, the bark rubbing against the bone, and he relished a hellacious roar. The branch didn’t budge.

  He lunged forward and threw himself back into the rock and the branch snapped at the end. Bancroft screamed again, this time almost crying. He brought up his left hand, which was almost like crawling through hell, and he pulled at the branch. This time it moved.

  Bancroft screamed and bit his tongue. The branch rubbed through his bone, like a sword piercing his stomach. The pain was sharp and it throbbed. Bancroft spat as the branch slowly pulled, but he continued. Second by second, he tightened his grip and pulled.

  “You can do this,” Bancroft mumbled.

  The branch twisted and fought to come out, but Bancroft was persistent. He grabbed the branch even tighter and pulled. He tugged and pulled and tightened his grip, but the branch kept refusing. He slung back into the rock again, hitting his shoulder to knock the branch loose, but it still hung in there.

  Blood leaked from the edges of the branch. Bancroft pulled again; this time, the branch slid across the bone, across his muscle, and slung out from his skin, flinging a string of blood across the dirt and leaves.

  Bancroft took a couple of deep breaths. He rolled to his knees, brought his hands up on the rock, and pulled himself up on his feet. He leaned over the rock, his stomach flattening against the stone, and he stretched his arms out. A stream of blood rolled down the rock.

  Bancroft lay there for a few seconds before forcing himself up on his feet. He turned toward the forest of moss and trees. Bright green grass covered the forest floor, and a rabbit hopped between two trees. Bancroft slanted to his side to ease the pain and he started walking.

  Chapter 27

  Old Man Bancroft

  The Ancrya was setting out in the middle of the Ozplesian fields. Locklin, Nile, and Leo were outside stretching and breathing in the cool air as they looked down at the unconscious soldiers they had just brought outside. The mountains circled around these fields, but were far out in the distance. The Ozplesian fields consisted of shrubs and rocks and the only forests were nearly a mile away. There were ponds scattered through the field, and some had small narrow streams that connected to each other.