Airel

by Patterson, Aaron

  He could hear a baby’s cry close by, muffled. He saw a jiggling movement in one of the saddle bags. One of the horses moved in reaction to it, which brought the cry to his ears again, this time more insistent. It made his heart soar to the heavens. She is alive! And not with the horde, but here, with these two. He had to act with haste. His presence would very soon be felt by them as they fed more and more on his energy.

  The stench was nearly overpowering already. Beastlike creatures, they smelled of fire, sulfur and smoke. But it went further than that. The smell of decay and rotten flesh, the parasitic smell of an ugly life form feeding on another, growing like a fungus, was ever present. If Kreios had not been exposed to it many times before, it might have overpowered him.

  He knew that one of them was human and one was not. He could smell the one that was of the original clan. These were bigger, had sharp shoulders and long arms that almost touched the ground.

  Kreios was nearly upon them when the bigger one, the beast, stiffened and sniffed the air. Kreios silently drew the Sword of Light, knowing full well he had to kill the demon first, then the man, if the wretch could be called by such a name. The demon turned as he pulled his long black sword from his side, breaking the silence with a screeching, scraping sound.

  A blinding light flashed out like a shot and the sword cleared the air. It filled Kreios with a burst of power and with every bit of it, he swung high and down, slicing the demon’s head in half. He jerked the broadside of the sword in a snapping motion and the head of the creature fell to the earth in two pieces. Kreios was expecting it to be more difficult. The man, standing before him in awe, must have thought the same thing.

  Kreios was not in the mood to be taking any chances, however. He lifted his sword high again, pointed toward the earth, and plunged it downward powerfully into the beast’s heart. Thick, black blood gushed from its neck and up into the air as Kreios pulled his weapon from the twitching body.

  He turned to the man and held out his glowing sword. The demon’s carcass fell beside them with a dead thud, but the eyes of the man and the angel were locked upon one another.

  The man was tall, with thick arms and broad shoulders. His long black hair streamed down from his head, crowning him in greasy filth. His sword was drawn and he held it like a man who knew how to wield it.

  Kreios stalled, waiting for his power to return, by asking the man a question. “Before I kill you, tell me why you took my daughter. What is she to you?”

  The man looked at him, then up to the sky. He shifted his weight as if bargaining with a merchant, then spoke with a hideous voice. “We knew you would come for that, pawn. We do not want it—we want you.” He spat on the ground as if completely bored by the situation. “You puppet. You fool for a lost cause! You think you know. You know not. The power now ranged against you and your blood-mates is more than you could imagine. We wanted to draw you to the canyon just beyond the forest edge,” he motioned over his shoulder to the west, “then capture you alive and deliver you to the Seer.” The man flexed his shoulders and planted his feet.

  Kreios looked to the west and cocked his head. “Why tell me now? You know I am going to kill you.”

  “Our number over that ridge are many. If we, the rear guard, do not ride into camp tonight, they will come for you. We know where you and your brother are hiding. We will kill the entire village for sport.” His smile turned wickeder and filled with evil delight as his eyebrows arched. “We will stop at nothing.” Then a sneer escaped the man’s lips and his face contorted as he bared his teeth at Kreios.

  “I have nothing you or your kind could want. Leave now and I will let you live to tell your Seer to forget this foolish mission.” Kreios saw instantly that his offer would not be taken. This man was determined to die.

  “We want you—and we will take you—for reasons that I will not reveal to you. It is what the Seer has ordered and we will deliver no matter the cost.” The man rolled forward onto the balls of his feet, ready to strike. His eyes flashed with hatred as his grip tightened on his sword, which was still pointed at Kreios.

  “You would dare kill me when you are ordered to bring me alive to your Seer?”

  “He can revive you as long as you have your head intact. He can bring you back. I will kill you, bring your body to him and regain my place as captain of a hundred. Please do not tempt me.”

  “As you wish.” Kreios sheathed his sword and stepped back toward the horses, in-between the attacker and his baby girl. Kreios had caught the man’s mention of having been demoted from the rank of centurion. He was amused that the man thought he could stand in battle against one of the Sons of God without his demon to give him strength.

  The man started forward, turning his sword across his body. With two steps he was upon Kreios faster than he had thought possible for a human. The man’s sword slashed across and sliced deep into Kreios's chest. The man stopped and looked at him in shock when he didn’t respond to the wound.

  Kreios grabbed his coat where the sword had cut through and tore it from his body. His pure white skin had a faint glow to it and a bright red slash bled from where the man had cut him.

  The human stared at Kreios’s perfect skin. He took a step back as the wound healed right before his eyes. Kreios smiled and thought about how he was not even cold as he stood bare-chested in the freezing wind. He only wore human clothes to better blend in with them. A naked man with pure white skin would not go unnoticed very easily.

  Kreios looked over to the wriggling saddlebags and his anger rose, boiling over. This human had dared to steal her away from him. In a flash of speed, he had grasped the muscular man by the hair and flung him into the sky, sending him high above the treetops. Jumping after him, he met the man in the air, burying a shattering fist deep into his abdomen.

  The man tried to grapple with him as they began to fall back to the ground, but his will had left him, having been replaced by terror. Kreios was hurtling downward, the man in his iron grip, with all the speed he could muster, like a bolt of lightning. The ground thundered as they made impact, sending grass and chunks of hard frozen dirt into the air.

  Amid the crater, Kreios stood up. He dusted himself off, wiping blood and rubble from his chest and arms. The man was dead. Every bone in his body had been shattered from the impact. Blood began to pool where he lay.

  Kreios found his torn coat and, taking the baby in his arms, he wrapped her tightly in it. Like a shooting star, Kreios sped through the night sky. The dark firmament held many shooting stars but on this night it played host for an ominous observer. The hollow glistening eyes of the Seer looked on as Kreios raced across the sky.

  It was time.

  Chapter XX

  Kreios touched down in the woods just outside Gratzipt. The smoke from the huts hung low to the ground like a blanket. Kreios ran the rest of the way into town and down the main road to the humble house where his brother had hid his little family. It was just before dawn, the moon long ago set. A crackle of firelight on the eastern horizon prophesied the coming day. Not one townsman had awakened from his deep sleep, though death and evil surrounded them.

  Zedkiel opened the door . Hugging his daughter, Kreios said, “She is safe, but we cannot stay any longer.”

  Zedkiel waved him in. “We have packed and are ready to leave. We must go now if we are to survive the day.” He had a large makeshift pack filled with the essentials on the ground next to the door. Blankets, dried barley bread, a knife, wood and bone utensils, and a few things for cooking. They did not need much food, only enough to keep Maria nourished. The rest they could hunt and cook over an open fire.

  “They are camped a few miles from the gorge with an army. The Seer is with them…they are planning something,” Kreios said. He stuffed a bundle of rope and more dried food in his pack as he spoke. “I killed two of them. The Sword has restored me faster than I have ever experienced. I actually healed from a mortal wound right in front of the man. Something is happening—and I must
confess that I do not know what it is.”

  “You have your daughter and that is all that matters. I must take Maria away and keep her safe. I fear I will not be able to accompany you on your journey. But we will keep your baby safe.” Zedkiel called Maria from the other room and gave her a kiss on the lips. It was tender, speaking much more than words could say.

  Kreios was glad Zedkiel had changed his mind about staying. He thought Zedkiel must have decided that, with the horde so close, it was not worth the risk. Zedkiel knew that Kreios would go after the horde and find out what was going on. It was the only way.

  Kreios looked down at the soft eyes of his sweet baby girl and bathed his heart in her smile. She had her mother’s complexion and soul, he could feel it. They want me? He could not believe it. He knew they had really wanted her but he could not guess for what purpose—especially since they had let her slip from their grasp so easily. He looked at his brother and they shared a moment of mutual yearning and pain.

  Kreios broke the silence. “We will go to the mountains of Ke’elei. In it there is a City where we can all be safe. They dare not go to it. It is one of the last places where our kind are free. I will show you the way brother, but after that I must track the Seer. It is time we are rid of him and his witchcraft.”

  “I have heard of this place. I did not believe it was real. I believed that they had scattered us, all of us. I thought that the last of our villages had been either buried or taken to the sky for eternity.” Zedkiel was lost for a moment in thought and reflection, during which his shining face dimmed and his eyes cooled, losing their passion.

  “…But you and I both know that there is no going back. We are outcast, cursed.” He lowered his head and a tear ran down his cheek as he remembered the home from which he had been in long, painful exile. It had been a very long time, but the remembrance of the smell of perfect air, a sunless sky that never gave way to darkness, filled him with hope.

  Kreios thought about it too, remembering when he had walked into the sea of crystal and let the cool white water flow between his toes. He remembered the beginning times, after they had been banished and El had turned his back on them. He had every right, but it still cut him deeply into his very soul. “Remember, even though we are outcasts, without a country or a place to lay our heads, we still feel and receive blessing from El. That love is like flowing water breaking hard rock. We cannot begin to hide from it... or Him.”

  Zedkiel nodded. He stood up straight and embraced his very pregnant Maria, whose smile was radiant, like the first spring dawn after a very hard winter. They looked at each other knowingly and packed anything else they might need before setting out.

  Kreios led them around back to the ramshackle stable, where three white stallions stood, ready to ride. “They are the most potent line ever bred. This is the tenth generation.” Zedkiel grinned with pride as he helped Maria into her saddle, then sprung up onto his own mount. The stallions were massive, standing well over twenty hands tall, and would be looked upon with terror on the field of battle. From this breed would spring the mighty Percheron of France—horses bred for war, for strength, for power.

  Kreios was given the largest. He ran his hand over its muzzle and neck, whispering into its ear. The horse grunted as if understanding, even as if in agreement.

  Soon they were on the road, riding out of town. Zedkiel looked back at the home they had built. His heart sank. He could tell it was not going to be an easy ride. Kreios had told him that it would take three days and nights to reach their destination. They could not take to the sky, so that the secret of the mountain city could be kept. It was not worth any amount of risk. Besides, Kreios had an idea of how to throw the Brotherhood off the trail.

  “I will go with you as far as the head of the Two Rivers. Then I will take to the air in a new direction and try to find an old friend. He might be able to help us.” Kreios smiled slightly at the corner of his mouth, pulling his baby girl close in the sling next to his chest.

  Gathering clouds filled the sky to the north. They were dark and thick with snow and frigid air. He knew that Maria could not make it far on horseback. The pass was very difficult terrain to ride, even for an experienced horseman. Kreios would need to find his old friend. The tables would turn. This is a matter of life and death now, Yamanu. I pray you can live up to your name.

  Chapter XXI

  They had reached the headwaters of the Two Rivers, and Kreios felt a pang of regret. He did not like parting ways with his brother and daughter so soon. He knew, though, if he did not find Yamanu they would never be able to make it to the safety of the City at Ke’elei. He had to do the one thing he did not want to do—leave his daughter yet again—but he had no other choice.

  He sent his beloved brother a message in his thoughts, and it was returned with a blessing as well as a warning: “Be careful, brother! Remember you are only one, but they are many.”

  The cool night sky flickered with stars beyond number, peering down into his soul as he walked in peace through darkened woods. Kreios had left his mighty horse with his brother. He would need to travel light for now. He decided to wait an hour before calling the enemy’s vision to himself, making the path clear for his family.

  His old friend was called Yamanu. He was a Shadower. In another age, it was a very useful talent for combating seers, medicine men, and wizards. He could draw a shade over himself, or even a group, into which the enemy was not able to see.

  Kreios grew up with Yamanu and could remember when they had learned to fly back home, where the streets were gold. Life under the sun provides such bitterness, and very little sweet.

  Every member of the Arch race could fly, or at least were supposed to. Yamanu had not taken to it as well as the other boys. One day, he and Kreios stole to the entrance of the white tower, where only the warriors were permitted. Kreios had been twelve, Yamanu ten. The doors stood as tall as five men and were over an arm’s length thick, with iron bands running throughout like spider legs, holding them together. They heaved the doors open and walked into the darkness, closing them behind them with great effort. Shafts of light illuminated the circling stairway through windows as it led upward, beyond them.

  None had ever ascended to the top of the white tower just to jump off and learn to fly. It was a lookout post for the army; the warriors. Without a doubt, Kreios and Yamanu were engaging in flight practice far before the Old Masters would have permitted. But Kreios had the heart of a king and nerves of steel. He was not content with the safer jump-off points where everyone else learned. At the tower’s top he felt as if he could regain the heavens long lost to his fathers.

  “Come with me Yam, if you want to see things for what they really are! You will not be disappointed.” Kreios had run two steps at a time, with Yamanu close behind him. Kreios was not afraid of death. It was a foreigner to them in that age. The only ones who knew of death were characters in old tales. They had grown up hearing stories of the old battle scarred Ones, their fathers from very long ago, who fought in the Original War.

  Kreios didn't even bother waiting for a response from his friend, for Yamanu was a quiet sort. He raced up the stairway, up and up, through the sunbeams, with the innocence of a little child.

  The tower pierced the sky. Even clouds were sometimes dashed against its white stone walls and cleaved in two. It was a beacon, a great statement of daring just to stand upon its battlements, amongst the peaks of the mountains God had crowned with such glory. The tower had been cut from a single piece of pure marble countless years ago, and felt cool to the touch.

  Yamanu came to a screeching halt when they reached the top and burst into the light of the unbroken sky. Since it was his first time at the top, he had not yet seen the expansive view, the breathtaking drop below them. Gusts of wind such as they had never felt, wild and unpredictable, greeted them as the white gold in the light kissed their faces.

  They were standing on the roof of the tower, and all that surrounded them was a short wall
, perhaps waist high, with one opening. A platform jutted out into thin air there, both warning and daring them to come closer. The tower was a perfectly circular spire. All that intruded upon the symmetry at the top was the rectangle cut into the floor that admitted the stairway, which, as was agreed upon between them, was a one-way ticket: the only way down from the top was to fly.

  “It is very far to the bottom.” Kreios stated with excitement. They were both breathing hard. “The wind current up here will keep us aloft for a little while,” he said, poking Yamanu in the ribs, “even if you do not know how to fly.”

  Yamanu looked over the edge and took a step back as a spasm of fear ran its icy fingers up and down his spine. “Are you sure this is safe?” he asked, but knew the answer. He did not relish the idea of testing the stories he had heard about their immortality. The idea of experimenting to see just how far they could take that truth scared him.

  “My friend, you and I are as safe as a babe in his mother’s arms!” Kreios grinned at him from ear to ear. “The worst that can happen to us is a bruised ego. And trust me, friend, I will not allow you forget it if you fail to catch these wind currents.”

  He slapped Yamanu on the back powerfully and looked over the edge with a smile. Kreios gazed with appreciation at the pure carved marble, veins of black twisting through creamy white, like the vessels in his own body, and he could imagine that the entire structure surged with power.

  He walked forward to the opening in the wall in front of him. As soon as he went out past it, the unpredictable gusts turned suddenly violent. A weak boy would have been tossed in one fatal instant. But Kreios was not weak. He took another deliberate step toward the end of the platform, stopping two steps from the end. He looked over his shoulder at Yamanu, who had been putting on a brave face. But Kreios was intrepid and his expression had become mischievous and daring. He looked forward, ran the last two steps, and jumped with his arms out like a bird.