Incarnation: Wandering Stars Volume One

by Jason Tesar

  Unarmed, Sariel felt quite vulnerable. Though it would have only made his task more difficult, part of him wished he had a vaepkir of his own.

  Straight ahead, the Rada stood at the center of the tent near the primary support column. His wingless form was surrounded by other Anduarym, also in full battle gear.

  Sariel bent low and placed one knee on the ground. “Fer-Rada Danduel,” he said in greeting.

  The Rada, who had been speaking with the Anduarym, now turned. “For one who has abandoned the Amatru, your courtesy is absurd.”

  A sarcastic response immediately came to mind. But Sariel bit his tongue and waited.

  “I assume you realize that you can’t make it out of here alive. And I’m sure you didn’t come to surrender yourself, so you must have something important to say. Make it quick!”

  Sariel exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “I understand Pri-Rada Ganisheel sent a Speaker to Semjaza. And the welcome was less honorable than expected.”

  The Rada took a few steps forward. “Are you working for him?”

  “No,” Sariel replied quickly.

  “Then how did you come upon this information?”

  “Your visit only provided the catalyst for a confrontation that was already in the making.”

  “Between who?” the Rada asked, clearly intrigued.

  “Semjaza and the Myndarym who recently came under his leadership.”

  “Go on,” Danduel replied.

  “The Myndarym are no longer under his rule. They have established their own city in hopes of attaining the independence that motivated them to cross over to the Temporal in the first place.”

  Danduel lifted his head slightly, but remained silent.

  “But their independence is fragile,” Sariel continued.

  The Rada crossed his arms while shallow creases formed above his eyebrows. “How so?”

  “As you can imagine, Semjaza is not happy with losing such a key component to his plans. And to have this happen just as the Amatru reveal their knowledge of his operations—very inconvenient timing for him.”

  The Fer-Rada thought for a moment. “This is an interesting development and nothing more,” he said dismissively.

  Sariel raised his eyebrows. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a lie.”

  The Rada scowled at the rebuke, but didn’t deny its truth.

  Sariel continued. “Clearly, you are aware that they were integral to helping him establish his kingdom there. But you don’t know exactly what they were doing. You don’t know how strong Semjaza is, what resources he has, or his ultimate goals.”

  “And you do, because you are working with the Myndarym,” the high-ranking officer stated.

  Sariel smiled. Though he had been prevented from higher-level leadership while he served the Amatru, he understood the strategic aspects of war better than most. This discussion was simply a different form of battle and he knew it was time for a direct attack, to exploit the Fer-Rada’s own sense of inadequacy.

  “You’ve been ordered to destroy his kingdom. But without weapons and armor in the Temporal Realm, and deficient intelligence concerning your enemy, you are unable to fulfill your orders. The message from Ganisheel’s Speaker was a bluff, and Semjaza knows it.”

  The room was silent now, as all the Anduarym and Iryllurym listened intently to the conversation.

  Sariel realized that in all his years as a soldier, he hadn’t ever spoken so bluntly to someone in authority. And the difference this time was just that. Though a Fer-Rada, Danduel wasn’t in authority over him because Sariel had removed himself from the authority structure.

  “What are you proposing?” Danduel asked finally.

  Sariel squinted. “You and the Myndarym have a common enemy, complimentary needs, skills, and supplies.”

  “Are you saying that they will fight for me?” Danduel asked.

  “No,” Sariel stated, rejecting the idea outright. “I’m saying, if the Amatru can produce the needed quantity of trained soldiers, the Myndarym will fight alongside you, as equals.”

  Danduel’s face turned red.

  The assault on his sense of pride was effective. As the Fer-Rada attempted to stifle his anger, Sariel knew that the officer was off-balance and would move to protect his weakness.

  The crowd of soldiers immediately began to whisper and murmur among themselves.

  When the color drained from his face, the Rada took a deep breath. “So, they have agreed to provide us with weapons and intelligence?” he asked finally.

  “Only with a sufficient show of force on your part,” Sariel replied, pleased that this Fer-Rada was able to see the big picture. “If you fail to do so, they will not be willing to risk their own lives, no matter how temporary their newfound freedom may be.”

  Danduel slowly shook his head. “How did someone of your reputation get mixed up in all of this? How did you go from being what you were, to standing here in front of me, in all your … dimness, speaking these things? Why are you doing this?”

  Sariel straightened his posture. “I have my reasons. So, do we have an agreement?”

  The Rada put one fist in the other hand and flexed his grip, but kept silent.

  Sariel took the opportunity to tip the scales in his favor. “If you know my reputation, then you understand a fraction of what I’m capable of. Side with the Myndarym and I give you my word that I will kill Semjaza myself.”

  At this, the Rada looked up from the ground. “Very well. Give me until the second full moon from today to muster my forces. My Iryllurym will take you to Fim-Rada Nuathel. You can discuss the initial strategy with him and he will make the arrangements.”

  “Good,” Sariel replied.

  “One more thing. Where shall we meet?” the Rada asked.

  “You can cross over at the eastern end of the Dalen a-Sorgud,” Sariel instructed.

  “Is that where the Myndarym are?”

  “No,” Sariel replied with a smile.

  CHAPTER 22

  ARAGATSIYR

  Enoch rushed along the twisting corridors of the Myndar city. Though their creations were beautiful, they seemed to appreciate beauty more than functionality and he had a difficult time learning his way around. By the time he reached Kiyrakom, Ananel and the others were already assembled.

  Pressing through the circle of angels, like a child trying to participate in the conversation of adults, Enoch saw a Myndar standing at the center near the pool of water. He didn’t look familiar. But the gigantic, striped cat lying dead at his feet looked somewhat like the form a Myndar might take. Suddenly, Enoch realized what he was witnessing.

  The one standing had blood oozing from a severe wound in his left shoulder. He had cuts and scrapes all along his arms and a deep gash that cut across his cheek from his mouth to his temple.

  “… there were four of them,” he was explaining.

  Enoch was upset with himself that he’d missed the first part of the discussion.

  “They were spying the location of our city. Tamael and I attacked them. We thought, with the advantage of surprise …”

  The room was silent as he composed himself.

  “I went after the last one and caught up with him before he could deliver his message.”

  “Surely there are more. Perhaps he already knows where we are,” one of the Myndarym suggested.

  “Perhaps,” the stranger replied. “Perhaps those were only the first spies.”

  The crowd murmured with fear.

  “But I do know something else. As much as we’d wish to forget about him, he will not forget about us. I saw the look in the eyes of the Anduarym. Their blind obedience. Semjaza must be dealt with sooner rather than later.”

  “How can we possibly—” someone began from the back of the room.

  “But they’re soldiers,” another interrupted.

  The stranger held up his hand. “I know. I know.”

  “Batarel,” a voice rang out clear among the chatter.


  Enoch looked up and noticed Ananel who now stepped forward from the gathering.

  “You killed several Anduarym, so it is not impossible.”

  “They outnumber us three to one,” someone shouted from across the circle.

  “Sariel has gone to address that issue,” Batarel argued.

  “But the Amatru cannot be trusted,” someone else suggested.

  Batarel shook his head. “I think they would say that we are the ones who cannot be trusted. And who can argue with them?”

  At this, the gathering of angels quieted.

  Batarel continued. “I see now that Semjaza will not stop until he owns everything. I was blind to this while under his authority. I wanted to believe that he would honor our agreement once our duties were completed. But we will never have our freedom while he sits enthroned in his fortress, growing stronger every day. If the Amatru agree to this plan, I will be the first to join in.”

  “Who is this Sariel?” someone asked. “Perhaps he is a spy of Semjaza.”

  Batarel made a low noise that Enoch thought sounded like an animal. “He is an Iryllur who has come to this world for his own reasons. He is not working for Semjaza. I can assure you of that,” he answered.

  One of the Myndarym with a female form stepped forward. “I suppose any more discussion is pointless until we hear whether the Amatru agree.”

  “No!” Batarel almost barked. “I say, decide for yourselves whether or not you are willing to fight! Reach this conclusion before the Amatru agree. Then you will know in your spirit where you truly stand.”

  * * * *

  SENVIDAR

  Sariel approached the Myndar city from the east, finding it exactly where Tamael had said it would be. Circling around to the south, he observed it from the afternoon sky, marveling at its construction. Though far from finished, it had a gracefulness to its design that seemed directly opposed to the functional battlefield structures he’d left behind in the Eternal Realm. A low trumpet sounded and Sariel smiled. Not only were they sounding his arrival, but they were doing so with instruments. It seemed the Myndarym couldn’t help themselves when it came to creating things.

  Sariel glided slowly toward the fields to the south of the city. As soon as he touched down, he allowed himself to feel the fatigue in his wings and chest muscles that he’d been denying for days. Only once had he ever journeyed so far, and the soreness in his muscles confirmed it.

  Batarel, who had been waiting as planned, came walking through the grass. His face bore an odd and unreadable expression as he extended his hand in the human greeting that Sariel had used on their first meeting. “Welcome.”

  Sariel looked over his shoulder. “Where’s Tamael?”

  Batarel stood motionless and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, tears spilled down his face.

  Sariel opened his mouth, but suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “We came across some of Semjaza’s spies, but we took care of them,” Batarel said finally.

  “Spoken like a true warrior,” Sariel replied, placing his hand on Batarel’s un-bandaged shoulder. “And Jomjael?”

  “He made it here with the women. They’re all fine.”

  Sariel nodded, not knowing how to offer his condolences.

  “The rest are waiting to speak with you. Come on,” Batarel said, nodding toward the city.

  As they began walking, Batarel turned his head. “Before we get in there, how did it go?”

  “As planned,” Sariel replied, enjoying the walk through the soft, short grass.

  Reaching the city, Sariel was now able to compliment his aerial understanding of the city with a different perspective, appreciating it all the more. Inside the wide, arched passage, the trees seemed to be intertwined without any cutting or destruction of any kind. It was as if they had simply grown into this configuration from seedlings, seamlessly woven together like threads of a tapestry. In certain locations, leaves formed a decorative ornament or served some functional purpose, like providing light to a dark corridor with their luminescent veins. It was as if the trees had agreed to provide their foliage for the whims of Myndarym design. Sariel smiled at the beauty, realizing that the Shapers would always find some way to exercise what they were created to do.

  “What do you call this place?” he asked.

  “Senvidar.”

  Twisted Trees, Sariel thought to himself, interpreting the name in the angelic tongue.

  ~

  The winding hallways eventually opened into a central courtyard where the massive trees created a partial canopy around the perimeter, while their roots snaked out across the ground toward a large pool of water at the center.

  The Myndarym were already gathered and waiting.

  Out of habit, Sariel quickly assessed the threat level of any new location he entered, starting with the number of other individuals—a quick estimation that revealed a discrepancy. “They’re not all here,” he noted.

  “When we left Semjaza, some wanted to take their chances on their own. The rest of us thought it safer to stick together, at least for a while.”

  “I see,” Sariel said, still counting in his mind. Thirty nine, forty, forty one …

  Walking to the center of the courtyard, Batarel turned to the gathering of Shapers, while Sariel knelt and dipped his hands into the pool and brought the cold liquid up to his face. The water was refreshing on his hot skin and seemed to wash away some of his weariness.

  “I present to you, Sariel of the Iryllurym,” Batarel announced.

  Sariel stood, water dripping from his face. He was exhausted, thirsty, and hungry. But he could see that these angels were anxious to hear what they’d been waiting for. So, he ignored his tiredness and addressed the gathering.

  “My friends, I’ve just returned from a long journey—”

  “Who do you think you are?” someone shouted out. “Speaking for us. What arrogance!”

  Sariel scanned the group of angels, but couldn’t tell who spoke. Most of them appeared in the forms which were the natural equivalent to their eternal bodies. But some obviously preferred the forms that had been given to humans, wearing muscular bodies with beards and other male attributes. “If you have something to say to me, step forward and say it openly.”

  An angel stepped carefully out of the crowd. It wore a female body and looked decidedly different than the rest.

  Sariel laughed at the sight, but his weariness was too great to prevent the swell of anger that followed it. “I’ll tell you who I am. I am a Myndar.”

  Gasps could be heard all around, while the female took a step backward.

  “And the fact that you wear the form of a female human only confirms what I already know to be true. You,” he pointed to the woman, “and all the rest of you. You want to live in freedom. You want to take forms of things without answering to anyone. You want to roam this world without fear for your lives. You desire a world without Semjaza.”

  The crowd was silent now.

  “I met with Fer-Rada Danduel who commands a division of Anduarym for the Amatru. He’s been tracking Semjaza’s progress for a long time.”

  “How long?” asked a colorful Myndar in the front.

  “Ever since he left the Eternal Realm. And lest your own arrogance rival that of Semjaza’s, he knows all about you as well. The Amatru were not fooled by anything Semjaza did to cover your tracks. We are all their enemies now.”

  “Then why would they let you leave?” a tall one in front asked.

  “Because I am also a soldier and I understand how they think. We have leverage in this situation.” Sariel couldn’t say the word leverage now without hearing the repulsive way it fell from Semjaza’s tongue. “Semjaza is their primary target and we have information and resources they need.”

  “Why to do you say we. You are not one of us!” someone yelled.

  “That implies we are the secondary target,” another added.

  Sariel ignored the first statement
. “Yes. But that doesn’t become a concern until the primary target is dealt with. This is the way of the Amatru. They are disciplined in the prioritization of their tasks,” he explained. “For the meantime, we each need the other.”

  “And afterwards?” the female asked, more humbled than the last time she spoke.

  “We only have need of the Amatru until Semjaza and his armies are destroyed. After that, I would advise going somewhere far away, as quickly as you can.”

  “Why is this human woman so important to you?” the female asked with a grin.

  “Does it matter?” Sariel replied. “My problem and your problem are only symptoms of the same disease. We both want something that we cannot have while Semjaza rules. And that is what must be changed.”

  Batarel, who had been facing the crowd, turned to Sariel. “How many soldiers will Danduel bring? And when are they coming?”

  “He commands one division, but he asked for us to wait until the second full moon so that he could muster additional forces. I assured him that he would need to bring enough to convince you all that this fight would end the way we want it to.”

  Batarel grinned. “So, they will be needing weapons—”

  “Will they fight on our behalf?” someone interrupted.

  Sariel turned. “No. They will fight alongside you,” he answered

  “But how are we to go against Semjaza’s armies untrained?”

  Sariel held up his hand. “I will gladly train you with the time that is available. But I’ve seen many times over, the most effective way to fight is to use what you already know. So, let me ask you, what do you know?”

  “How to fight like an animal,” Batarel quickly responded.

  “Yes,” Sariel said. “You understand forms and how to use them.

  “We know Myndlagid,” another added.

  “Yes. You must think of what it is that you understand better than anyone. Then think how to use it to your advantage,” Sariel suggested.

  “Songs of Unshaping,” Batarel said under his breath.

  Only Sariel heard this comment and he turned to the Myndar with wide eyes.

  Batarel shrugged his shoulders. “It was an accident, but very effective.”

  Sariel grinned, then turned back to the rest of the Myndarym. “So what do you say? Shall we take the opportunity that is before us? If not, think carefully about how the next years of your life will turn out.”