Dawn Of The Aakacarns

by John Buttrick

  “All powerful, ha, well eat dirt and see how you feel!” He could well imagine the Creator saying.

  It all happened so fast the idea of focusing potential to stop the fall had not occurred to him. He needed to think faster. Practice, practice, practice, that was what would help him gain the ability to use his life-force energy almost as fast as a reflex.

  Leaves rustled, twigs snapped, and invisible creepy-crawlies of all kinds seemed to suddenly be in motion, away from him. After a few moments lying tummy down on the forest floor, he resumed the Melody and could again see by the blue radiance. He stood up, noting the thick bushes to the right, and figured the torch must have flown into them, but decided not to go looking for the useless item.

  The howling was getting on his nerves and concentrating on the Melody became more challenging while jogging onward. “There must be some way to keep the Aaka going,” he figured, then began to think of his own compositions, and how he indicated in clay when a certain pattern of notes needed to be repeated. “I wonder,” he spoke under his breath, and then added a Da Capo at the end of the Aaka, naturally linking the repeater to his life-force, seeing as he did not dare alter in anyway the pattern of notes Roddy had arranged.

  He ceased to play the Melody in his mind and much to his delight, the indigo glow continued to radiate from him. “Necessity has always been a good teacher,” he felt the need to say even though he was alone in the forest. Evidently the action was well within his limits, considering he felt no excessive drain on his pool of energy.

  The howls were coming closer, so close he was convinced the pack had picked up his scent. Not alone after all, he thought and prepared for the inevitable.

  Even being the swiftest hunter did not mean he could outrun a wolf, much less a pack of wolves. Jubal’s mission did not allow time for the kind of delay waiting for the pack to give up would cost, seeing as they were unlikely to give up. He reached for his bow, but hesitated when a thought stayed his hand.

  I don’t need to kill them, only make them see me as a predator to be avoided rather than prey.

  The area in which he had fallen had many twisted roots crisscrossing the ground. The network came from a circle of trees whose tops were sparse enough for him to see the moon in a patch of starry sky. A quick look at the chart confirmed which way was south. He slipped the scroll back into his coat and eyed the forest in every direction, but mostly north where the howling grew louder as the canines drew closer.

  Perspiration dripped from his brow in spite of the cool breeze as he stood anticipating the arrival of the vicious pack, perhaps the peril Cassi envisioned. Even though he keenly felt the incredible power within him waiting to be released as the volume of the Melody in his head increased, anxiety made his mouth go dry. The energy radiating from him grew brighter, to the point tiny eyes up in the trees began to glow.

  Evidently, the radiance can be seen by non-Nephilim if enough potential is summoned, he concluded, and then sipped from the water-skin.

  Massive gray wolves, ten of them, came bounding into the area, and then slowed their approach. They probably did not know what to make of a creature that glowed, yet came on, some of them straight toward Jubal, and others circling to the right and left. Growls replaced the howling while the alpha, fangs bared, crept in the lead.

  The big male made a leap, a short flight clearly intended to take the ferocious animal to the throat of his prey, and at the same instant Jubal focused, sending a blue arm made of his life-force energy out to meet the wolf in the air. The glowing hand caught hold of the alpha, suspending the beast ten feet off the ground. Before Jubal could even think of congratulating himself for the fete, the remaining wolves charged in on him.

  He willed a second arm into being and snatched the closest snarling canine into the air, but that did nothing to stop six of the beasts from reaching him. He swung both blue appendages just as slavering jaws were about to clamp onto his vulnerable limbs, and smacked the wolves aside as if they were made of twigs. The other two hesitated after hearing all the yelping, high-pitched whining, and sorrowful whimpers coming from their pack-mates, including the alpha and beta that clearly did not appreciate being swished through the air and brought to a sudden halt.

  Before the rest of the pack members could find their courage and decide to go back on the offensive, Jubal took a moment to wonder if imagining an appendage was the best method, although it proved to be very good at scattering the lunging beasts. He raised his physical hand and pointed a finger at one of the two hesitant wolves while picturing in his mind what he wished to accomplish.

  A moment of concentration sent a beam of light from the digit, instantly enveloping the she-wolf in blue light, and when he crooked the finger, she shot up into the air at the four cubit height he willed for her to be at, and then he added a Da Capo to keep her there. Within a very short space of time he had the entire pack similarly suspended in the air and was feeling much more satisfied with the new way of imagining the release of potential. The appendages had been showy but much less efficient than the beams of light, which did not require an increase of volume, meaning less of a drain on his internal pool of life-force energy. Lesson learned; the higher the volume the greater the risk of dehydration or death, especially since he was not using a flute.

  “That ought to keep you out of mischief while I go about my business,” he told the suddenly quiet group, although there were still a few whimpers, and several wolves were in the process of emptying their bladders.

  Cassi’s viewing, along with Mel’s revelation, had made him more nervous than he otherwise would have been. Jubal had faced similar perils from predators just as dangerous while on the hunt and the recent encounter was hardly the worst he had experienced in the wild. Perhaps she interpreted his life-force energy as the light and the wolves about to bite his limbs as the peril. Darkness had come when he earlier lost concentration and consequently tripped over a root. She had spent all of her twenty-two years within the confines of the settlement. To her all of those things would seem to be great peril. The conclusion set his mind at ease and boosted his confidence.

  By adding a Da Capo on each focus of the Melody, he no longer had to consciously will his captives to stay where he placed them, so put them out of his mind, and moved ahead. His personal limit had not been reached so there was no point in worrying about over extending himself.

  Within an hour he could feel the upward slant of the terrain, which made him more confident about what was ahead, having ventured over small hills along the way, but nothing that could have been considered high ground, not enough to allow over twenty thousand people and their animals to camp. Directly ahead, the forest was too dense for carts and the only way through would be for people to carry what they could and walk single file.

  Jubal headed to the left, looking for a better path forward, and after a half hour without seeing a suitable way through, he turned and ran back the other direction, not at a jog, but a full out sprint. He had lost too much time and needed to make up the loss by moving quicker.

  It took him less than half the time to get back to where he had been and then a few hundred strides on the right brought him to an area where the trees were farther apart. If he had chosen right in the first place it would have saved him so much time and effort, but that had not been the case. Too bad he had felt no impulse to make the correct choice. Instead of standing in one spot, pondering his regret, he chose an oak, carved an arrow pointed to the left, which was south, and then ran back to the original starting point to carve another arrow so the caravan would know to turn right. At that point he rested for a few minutes while drinking his water-skin dry.

  He jogged along on the new trail and was pleased the terrain continued upward, even though he could feel the strain of his leg muscles as the elevation grew steeper, yet ran on and on, thinking of the many people who were counting on him. The physical exertion along with maintaining the illumination was taking its toll, causing him to lose track of time and
worse, to slow. It seemed as if someone had stuffed his mouth with wool, he was so thirsty. He deeply hoped a source of water would soon come into view. The possibility of exceeding his personal limit entered his mind, and the idea of becoming a dried-out husk reminded him of the hasty decision he had made earlier.

  Taking the time to find the lost torch might have been worth the effort, it sure would have allowed him to release the potential illuminating his way forward. He staggered onward, aware of the stickiness in his boot, and almost missed seeing a stream running about fifty paces to the right between a pair of cedars.

  Ignoring the fact that his foot was bleeding again after all the pounding and abuse, he immediately altered course and upon reaching the running water, fell to the ground, and then began splashing his face. Pleasant as the coolness felt on his skin and beard, it was not enough; so he dunked his head in the water. Cool liquid filled his mouth, bringing refreshment with each gulp, making him feel alive again. After satisfying his thirst, he refilled the water-skin, but decided to rest a while before continuing his journey south and also to ignore the blood seeping from his wound.

  “Good enough; better get moving,” he said and took off in a ground-eating jog, his long-legged strides carrying him nearly twice as fast as that of an average man.

  The wind had shifted and was coming steadily out of the northwest, which pleased him until he remembered the storm and flood waters were heading from the same direction. It was a race he could not afford to lose. Jubal doubled his pace, not an all-out sprint, but a lively run he could maintain for a good while.

  With only a few course alterations that required markings, he made it to level ground in time to see the dawn of the new day and then sat down with his back against a broad tree trunk. He had moved far quicker than a slow walk and if the calculation of spans was correct, he had covered the ground twice as fast as Artemis had figured for the caravan.

  While catching his breath; with a thought, he removed the Da Capo from the Aaka powering the indigo radiance, and the glow emanating from him vanished. He sipped from the water-skin and decided to scout the area.

  At the center of the higher elevation, determined after running the perimeter, he came across a spring surrounded by bushes and with three saplings across from each other. Water flowed out of the pool in multiple directions and was streaming on down to the low lands. The fountain was the source of the stream he had come across earlier, of that he had no doubt. “This is the perfect place for the caravans to stop and set up,” he declared even though no one was around to hear.

  He drank from the spring, emptied the skin, and refilled it with fresh water, then took the time to tear a strip from his coat, clean the wound on his foot, and then wrap it as best he could. It was time to head north at a walk.

  Artemis and the rest would continue to follow the signs and so the point at which he met them really did not matter, especially with the sun up and the arrows carved into the trees easier to spot. It was not as if they would suddenly be able to move faster just because he was with them. Walking also gave him a better idea of how long it would take for the procession to reach high ground after he met them.

  Hours into the new day the caravan came into view, so he sat down with his back against the tree, and his hands behind his head, much the way Roddy would have done. Artemis, Andromeda, Cassiopeia, and Poseidon were walking in the lead with thousands of people following them on foot and many driving donkey and ox carts. A group of Tinies were herding the flocks of sheep and goats in narrow lines, which was a task easier said than done, particularly the goats. The kids stayed close to their mothers, but several rams kept running off the pathway. The caravan could not stop so the strays were herded back and if the wayward creatures went too far, they would be left behind.

  The Nephilim and Anakim were easy to pick out of the crowd, all of them being much taller than the majority of folks. Hades, dressed in mottled green and brown woolens and carrying a spear, was visible toward the middle. Hermes, wearing a dark green wool tunic, ran ahead of the rest and Jubal stood up just as the younger man came to a stop in front of him. “It is good to see you, uncle,” the son of Zeus greeted enthusiastically. “We came across the most peculiar sight a while back.”

  Jubal grinned in the face of his nephew’s exuberance. “Could it have been a lion or a bear?”

  Hermes shook his head. “We saw a few of those but they stayed clear of us, no doubt frightened by our huge numbers,” he paused as if trying to draw out the suspense, “what amazed me were the ten wolves floating in the air and glowing blue. The Anakim and Tinies could not see the glow, but all of us saw the whimpering canines suspended above the ground - above the ground,” he repeated.

  Jubal scratched his head. “Oh, I forgot about them,” a statement which earned him a frown.

  It was at that moment Artemis, wearing her hunter’s garb, caught up with them, along with the other lead walkers. “How can anyone forget seeing a pack of wolves floating in the air?”

  Cassi, wearing the woolens of a Weapocarn, broke from the group and threw her arms around him. “Jubal, I am so glad to see you,” she said with relief in her voice and then released him.

  “And I to see you,” he replied and then they both matched strides with Artemis. “It was a long night and that encounter was only a small part of it,” he replied in answer to the question.

  “You actually forgot seeing them?” Hermes seemed to want confirmation of the fact while walking sideways. He apparently found the notion unbelievable.

  “No, I didn’t forget seeing them, I forgot to release them,” Jubal replied and then remembered no one but Nimrod, Mel, and Vashti knew he could wield the Melody.

  Poseidon’s left eyebrow arched up skeptically. “I know Nimrod can float in the air,” he began and then eyed his much younger brother. “You don’t even have a flute.”

  “I don’t need one,” Jubal replied, and then mentally played the Melody long enough to send a beam of light, lift his cynical brother two cubits off the ground, and move him up the trail.

  Loud gasping sounds came from scores of throats to the rear, followed immediately by finger pointing and much shouting. A flock of sparrows took flight from the tree to the left and more than a few squirrels leapt from branch to branch on either side of the path to get away from the disturbance.

  Jubal ceased the potential and Poseidon dropped, landing on his feet and then spent the time brushing leaves from the pants of his hunter’s garb while waiting for the group to catch up to him. When they did, he stated, “The glow was the same hue I saw around the wolves and the little lift you gave me settles the issue,” he paused, focusing an appraising eye on his younger brother, “you seemed to have brought this new skill to a fairly high level.”

  His demeanor seemed calm enough, but those blue eyes had widened in alarm when his feet first left the ground. Older-brother was quick to regain his composure; Jubal had to grant him that.

  Nobody had stopped walking, but nearly all of them had their mouths open wide. “I have been practicing since Roddy taught me the Aaka. He is the composer. I am merely a player of his work,” Jubal was quick to explain.

  “Can you teach me this new skill?” Artemis asked, her eyes widening at the prospect.

  Jubal eyed those walking to the left and right of him. “I will teach any Nephilim who desires to learn.”

  “I want to learn,” Hermes eagerly responded. He finally chose to walk face-forward rather than sideways.

  “Then you will need to learn how to play a flute,” Jubal replied. “Anyone who wants to wield a Melody must first learn how to play the notes.”

  “Aakatools are not weapons,” Poseidon declared as if that would somehow change the requirement. He carried a trident rather than a spear and while he could wield other weapons, it was unlikely he had ever touched a musical instrument.

  On the trail ahead lay a recently fallen branch, it had not been there when Jubal passed by earlier. The ability to move thing
s using a Melody seemed to be more defensive than offensive, but a devious mind could tip the balance either way, and he had an idea. “I could float a predator several hundred paces in the air and drop it, that would certainly kill any beast, or I could..,” he replied and then summoned the potential.

  Raising his hands, he sent a beam from both, willing the bright blue rays to strike each end of the branch rather than envelope it. His idea might not work, but he was eager to give it a try even at the slight risk of drawing too much power. Instead of willing the object of his focus up, he moved his hands apart toward either side of the path. With a loud crack that sent every bird in the vicinity fleeing for safety, the branch broke at mid-point, splinters flying every which way, and each huge half moved to the sides of the pathway, then he ceased the potential. Sudden thirst made him drink from the water-skin, but that had been the only cost to his body.

  “I must learn to play the flute,” Poseidon conceded without further objections.

  Artemis started laughing for reasons she only knew. When the chuckles subsided, she seemed prepared to share what had struck her funny. “Nimrod’s procession must have passed the wolves by now. I would trade a hundred arrows to see the look on his face. I wonder if it ever occurred to him to wield the Melody in such a manner or if he can do so as skillfully as you have demonstrated,” she stopped and looked Jubal in the eyes. “When I met you earlier after his performance, you never mentioned having the same ability. What you have shown us is beyond floating above the crowd and would have made Nimrod look like a novice.”

  “I am still a novice and will always need Roddy no matter how skillful I become at wielding his Melody,” Jubal replied, then tilted his head sideways, “and you wanted to ask him about how it was done, not me, and any explanation would have interfered with your desire to have me begin scouting ahead. Time seemed to be important to you back then.” She did not argue the point.