Dawn Of The Aakacarns

by John Buttrick

  Indigo blue exploded into the form he selected. He was gazing from higher off the ground, ten cubits, and looking down on his protectors. What they were seeing was a huge, fifteen foot tall, black bear standing on its hind legs. Andromeda fell backward to the ground but had the knives in her hands and pointed at the perceived threat. Anak had his spear cocked back, ready to throw, and Cassi had drawn an arrow and was fitting it to the bow.

  Jubal was cocooned in the translucent image, from his view point. He raised his arms and stared at the massive paws and needle sharp claws. “According to Nimrod, those weapons will not pierce this image. However, I would appreciate it if you did not put his belief to the test. Just so you know, I am still me; I have not turned into a bear.”

  Cassi lowered her bow. “Jubal?”

  Andromeda began shaking, perhaps having a fit, but no, she sprang to her feet, laughing hysterically. “Ursa would love to learn that trick. I bet she would go find a bear to wrestle with.”

  Going by what Jubal remembered about her, he would not be surprised if the young woman did do such a thing after learning Metamorphosis. “This is no easy Aaka to wield. It will be quite some time before she will be learning this particular Melody,” if she ever does, he thought but did not say out loud.

  Anak rested the butt of his spear on the ground. “I can see why you wanted to try this way out here.”

  “Can you turn into a hawk?” Cassi asked the very question expected of her.

  “That is my goal, but making your viewing come true will not be easy. Holding this form is difficult,” Jubal explained and then examined his hands.

  As he stared at his appendages the paws began to fade, the entire image wavered, and suddenly he was just Jubal standing in the clearing. “See what I mean. All I did was concentrate on my hands within the claws and the entire illusion failed. Imagine what would happen if I were flying high in the sky and something like this occurred.”

  “You must master one form at a time,” Anak gave his opinion. “Become so familiar with the bear that you no longer think of yourself as a man within a realistic illusion. Get to the point where you think of yourself as being a bear. When you look at your hands, see only thick pads and sharp claws.”

  It was a good suggestion coming from a man who would die in an instant if he ever played the tune audibly or mentally. “Cassi, if your husband had been born a Nephilim he would be among the greatest wielders of potential.”

  “I would certainly like to think so,” Anak responded and then drew in a deep breath to no doubt expound upon the thought. “I am good with the theoretical…,”

  A near deafening roar overwhelmed the rest of his words and caused Jubal to spin around toward the source. A brown bear slightly larger than the illusion he had created came charging into the clearing. The notes for Metamorphosis began stirring the pool of energy inside while his three protectors took up their weapons, but made no move to confront the raging beast.

  Potential flooded into him and suddenly he was the bear once more.

  “Remember, be the bear. You are the bear,” Anak shouted.

  The words sounded silly to the ears, but Jubal closed his eyes and indeed thought of himself as a black bear rather than a man cocooned in illusion. The real bear charged at what he perceived as the interloper. The beast reared up on its hind legs and roared. A fellow bear would have responded in kind, not Jubal. He spun around with his leg coming in low and swept Brownie’s legs out from under him and then brought his claw/hand down on the top of its head. The blow landed with the full force of a love tap, compared to the strength of an actual bear.

  The defender of his territory roared again, rolled onto all fours, and lunged for his challenger. Jubal ducked under a swipe, one massive paw missing his snout by a whisker, and then kicked the beast in the side. “Go away!” he shouted, not that the angry animal could understand the words. It was the challenging and demanding tone used.

  Brownie did not seem to be impressed by the strength of the kick or the tone and before Jubal regained his balance, a sharp-clawed paw swung out catching his foot, spinning him in the air. He landed heavily on the ground, unhurt because of the cocoon, a cocoon that while keeping him safe also hampered his movement, making him sluggish.

  He manage to roll enough to get his feet under him and then sprang up, just as Brownie came down on him with the full weight a powerful male in its prime was known for. Jubal’s leg muscles strained to hold up the load, blood and adrenalin pumping to increase his strength. His thighs and calves could not hold out much longer. A seemingly eternal moment went by and led into another.

  He imagined himself rising all the way up and throwing the bear over backwards; then his legs began trembling, feeble things under such tremendous bulk. Moments later he collapsed, muscles aching, but still mentally alert, and maintaining the illusion of being a black bear.

  Sharp teeth bit at his head and face and then powerful jaws clamped onto his neck, keeping him firmly in place. It was difficult to breathe and what he did inhale was the putrid breath of his opponent. Jubal’s right arm was under his body. With great effort he managed to bring his left arm up, claws aiming for his opponent’s eyes, and a massive paw came around and not only swept the appendage away, the bear forced Jubal’s arm down and pinned it to his side. He could not move and was completely at the mercy of the enraged creature.

  Jubal looked like a bear and thought of himself as being one, but did not have the strength and sheer power of the huge beast. The belief kept the cocoon around him, thinking otherwise would make the illusion vanish and leave him vulnerable to severe injury or simply get him torn apart. Would he have time to summon potential for the dome shield?

  “I am a big black bear,” he told himself over and over again and then decided to add to the illusion. “I am a big black bear that can wield a Melody.”

  He chose a tune appropriate for the occasion, allowed the notes to play in his head, while saying, “I am a big black bear that can wield a Melody,” and the moment the tune reached the point of summoning potential, he released the energy.

  Electricity crackled and sparked, singeing fur, and arcing out in all directions. Suddenly he was no longer under the weight of the bear. He looked up. Brownie’s blistered tongue was hanging limply out of his mouth, numb. Smoke wafted from his face and fur and his eyes were staring blankly at nothing in particular.

  By the time Jubal stood on his feet the bear’s eyes were blinking. The stunning was wearing off. Still cocooned within the illusion, Jubal lifted his right paw; middle claw extended, and sent a crackling bolt to the ground right in front of his opponent. The mighty brown bear shook its head, actually it was more like he was experiencing involuntary twitches, and then he slowly, unsteadily, retreated back among the trees and on out of sight.

  “Very good,” Anak exclaimed. “I would say you have made some progress.”

  Jubal allowed the illusion to vanish. “True, I managed to hold the form under extreme duress. Your little trick of the mind worked. Is there any reason none of you tried to help?”

  “Naturally, I always give good advice,” Anak proudly replied, “and I distinctly remember you telling us not to attack the bear.”

  “Obviously this was all part of your experiment. Brother, are you harmed in any way?” Cassi asked while walking up to him, perhaps to see for herself.

  Jubal did not see the point of correcting the misunderstanding. He eyed the trees Brownie passed between on his way out. “It seems Nimrod was correct about the teeth and claws, they did me no harm. I should warn him the Aaka does not supply the strength to match the illusory image.”

  “The chief will figure it out,” Andromeda assured him.

  “I did not have the strength of a bear,” Jubal stated while turning to his sister. “You know what that means.”

  She nodded. “It means even when you get to the point of creating a stable image of a hawk, you would never have the power to fly.’

  “Certainly not
by waving my arms, Roddy figured out that much. I don’t see how I can make your vision come true.”

  Cassi smiled at him and shook her head as if he had missed something. “The vision is true; you do not have to make it true. It simply is what will happen. I do not know how you will learn to fly, but I know you will do so, and teach other Aakacarns to do so as well.”

  “You zapped the beast with lightning,” Andromeda spoke the words as if surprised at what he had done. “You didn’t even bring a staff.”

  “I zapped him with about a tenth of the power that is in the producer I made for Zeus. Knowing the Aaka is enough to do the job, but perhaps it would not hurt to bring along an Aakatool for certain occasions, such as when under attack by an angry bear.”

  “That would be a wise decision,” Anak sagely agreed. “Unfortunately you keep forgetting to bring such a tool.”

  Jubal stroked the whiskers on his chin, having no good answer to the last remark, it being true. “I think it is time to head back. If I keep whatever illusory form I conjure on a small scale, close to my physical proportions, there should be no danger of breaking anything or hurting bystanders.”

  Andromeda nodded. “It seems practicing in the wilderness did not turn out to be safe after all.”

  “No one else needs to know about this,” Jubal told them.

  “They will not here of it from my lips,” the sister of Ursa pledged.

  Cassi laughed. “It is a funny story, after you get past the part where you insanely risked your life to do exactly what Andie’s sister would do.”

  Jubal held up his hand to emphasize what he was about to say. “I am not asking to be shielded from an embarrassing story. I am telling you not to reveal the existence of this Aaka. Nimrod will determine when to disclose the Melody to others.”

  “It will be as you say, Instructor,” both wife and husband replied simultaneously.

  They headed back to the settlement and Jubal made it about sixty paces within the boundary when a voice called to him, “Brother, I am glad our paths have crossed this day.”

  “How did you know it was me in this outfit?”

  Arphaxad stepped up and smiled. “At a glance no one would recognize you. Most people would think you were one of four Weapocarns coming in from a patrol. However, I know Cassi and Anak have not gone out since choosing to become escorts of the Instructor of Aakacarns. Also, if you want to be more convincing, you should actually carry a weapon.”

  Jubal held out his hands. “My weapons come from the inside.”

  Arie nodded. “Precisely, only Jubal would go out into the wildlands without a bow, knife, or spear.”

  “He has you there,” Cassi evidently felt the need to state the obvious.

  “Point taken,” Jubal nodded to his older brother. “Is there a reason you are glad we are on the same path or are you simply gladdened to see me?”

  “I am always glad to see you, little brother,” Arie replied, and his smile broadened.

  He had red hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and his nose was at a level with Anak’s naval. Like Medica, it amused Arphaxad to measure by age rather than height. He had a blue silk cloak over his white robe and sandals on his feet. His smile vanished and his expression turned grim. “There have been some disturbing things occurring and I am about to confront a possible source of those occurrences.”

  Jubal did not want to get caught up in minor disputes. He had no time for that sort of thing. “You are an elder, respected by many, and a man I am sure can resolve any issue. If it is serious enough, you can bring the matter before one of the judges.”

  Arie momentarily scratched the whiskers on the side of his face as if it helped him to think and then brought his hand down. “This matter involves at least several elders. I would greatly appreciate having you at my back.”

  Jubal took in a breath, shocked. “Surely none of the elders would resort to violence.”

  Arphaxad sadly shook his head. “If what I have been hearing proves to be true, something of the sort is more than possible.”

  “What did you hear?” Cassi asked, incredulously.

  If anyone but Arie had made the statement the credibility would have been in doubt. He held up his hand, forestalling anymore questions. “It is best you hear for yourselves; that way, with you four witnesses, the facts can be established.”

  Of the older siblings, Arie was the only one who made time to be with Jubal when he was a toddler, and had maintained a close relationship with him over the years. So close, it was the death of his nephew Gero that sent him out after the lions. It was on the advice of his brother he married Vashti. Jubal could not refuse the request. “I will come even if the others choose differently.”

  “As if I would allow you to go unescorted,” Andromeda said with a wave of her hand. “These two love birds can go their way, but I am with you.”

  “While I will admit to loving my wife, what makes you think she and I would abandon Jubal at a time like this?”

  Cassiopeia faced her younger sibling and placed both hands on her hips. “If you think you can get rid of us this easily, you have another thing coming.”

  Arie waved a finger at his little brother. “You phrased your response knowing what they would say.”

  “Guilty,” Jubal replied with a slight smile. “Lead the way.”

  “Will he ever grow up?” Cassi asked of the world while throwing her hands in the air.

  Admittedly it had been a cheap way to go about tweaking his sister, but Jubal found amusement when and where he could.

  Andromeda passed him one of her knives. “Carry this so people will see you as a Weapocarn.”

  Jubal accepted the loan. “Thanks, Andie” he replied and followed along.

  His delight did not last long as he walked the streets, more like dirt paths, through the thrown-together dwellings of the poor, and toward the solid structures belonging to the more affluent. Being a first-gen, Jubal always lived well, and never had to live in the conditions the people he was passing had to endure, even though his home, like many of theirs, had been washed away. Seeing them made him appreciate what he had, but he also fed and protected a lot of people over the years, so anyone who expected him to feel guilty over his lifestyle was bound to be disappointed, especially after all the improvements. Even the poorest people were clean and well fed with meat supplied by the Weapocarns. They also had plenty of vegetables as a result of Aakacarns raising food crops to rapid maturity. Not a single person was malnourished.

  “Greetings, elder,” a man in a gray robe called out, as did many other men and women who caught sight of Arie.

  Fortunately nobody recognized the Instructor of Aakacarns. He actually felt anonymous and enjoyed the feeling after so many months where his every action seemed to fall under close scrutiny.

  Arie led them deep into the section where the tribe of Canaan lived. A few turns down one street and then on down another brought them to the home of the patriarch. “Do you mean to say the source of trouble is in there?” Anak asked and came to a stop on the path leading up to the large stone house.

  The residence was long and broad with three levels above ground and one below; or so Jubal had been told. Having never been inside, he depended on what Roddy had learned from Semiramis.

  Rather than reply to the question, Arie led them up the path to the door, which was guarded by a man with dark brown skin and who stood head and shoulders above the elder. His arms were folded across his chest and in his hands were a pair of steel knives that looked very much like what Hades described as being swords. These knives were slightly curved and as long as the man’s arms. “The chief is entertaining guests,” the big fellow informed Arphaxad, while trying to ignore Andromeda, whose diaphragm was on the same level as his eyes.

  “Are you denying me entrance?” The question was spoken mildly, but with four giants standing, two to the right and two to left of him, Arie might as well have shouted.

  The guard’s eyes widened, whether he was worri
ed about confronting Weapocarns or instigating a clash of the clans was difficult to determine. Whatever the reason, his grips on the hilts tightened. Dark brown eyes swept over the hunters and then shifted back to the one holding a single knife. “You were asked a question,” Jubal reminded him. “It would be polite to answer.”

  “Remember when you killed that bear with a single blade?” Andromeda asked to inform the guard of the prowess of the man holding the steel weapon.

  Jubal turned to her. “Of course, but I see no bears,” he replied and then faced the guard. “Surely I have no reason to use a blade here.”

  “No reason at all,” the man agreed. “And, no, Elder, I am not denying you entrance, merely informing you of what my chief is currently engaged in doing.”

  Arie smiled and patted the guard on the back. “Splendid, now, be a good fellow and guide us to Canaan so we can greet him properly.”

  Jubal followed the group in, on down the hall, and out into an open garden area where a small group of people, dressed in robes of wool and a few in silk, were gathered at a table. His brother, Aram, was sitting between Magog, whose face was mostly hidden by a red-blond beard, and Canaan, whose bright red hair seemed to be aflame. The other eighteen people were men Jubal had never met.

  Aram’s auburn hair had grown out some in the last couple of months but he kept his beard neatly trimmed. Jubal stayed beside Andromeda and behind Anak so as not to be recognized unless Arie wanted it so.

  A man with a pink complexion was pacing back and forth. He was wearing a light blue wool robe and waving his arms while speaking. The words became clearer as the small group led by Arie approached the gathering. “I will have justice for my son!” The angry little fellow shouted and then sat down.

  “He has presented a damning case against the Nephilim,” Canaan told the listeners.

  Aram nodded. “He certainly has a legitimate grievance. However, we are not currently in a position to call the people designated as leaders to account.”

  Magog slapped the table. “This is precisely why when they move to Semidon, my tribe will not be going with them.”