by C. L. Roman
“None of us agreed to fight with Sabaoth either.” The soft assertion came from Sena, her gentle brown eyes wet with regret.
“Arguing about it is pointless.” Adahna’s calm tone shifted into deliberate sarcasm. “Unless one of us wants to fly home and find out, we are stuck here. We must make the best of it.”
“Really?” Volot’s fingertips danced on the pommel of his scimitar as he answered in kind. “Very well then, oh Voice of the Wise. How, exactly, do you propose we ‘make the best of it’?”
“I don’t notice you spouting any great plans, Volot!” Adahna flashed, her skin beginning to glow as she flipped her black curls over one shoulder, “especially since the last one turned out so well.”
This last shot, referring to Volot’s latest, disastrous attempt at infiltrating a human settlement, tipped the scales as the combatants erupted into violence. Swords scraped free of scabbards and both warriors crouched in a fighting stance. The other members of the unit backed away cautiously as the two circled one another, Volot muttering insults and imprecations while Adahna was eerily silent.
There was a tearing sound as their blades became bolts of flame, whirling and slashing, singeing the air between them as each sought the advantage. Adahna’s sword skimmed close enough to Volot’s outstretched wing to send a half dozen feathers drifting into the ether even as he ducked left and lunged under her guard, splitting the fabric of her tunic below the right breast. For a few moments the air sizzled with the smell of burnt feathers and ozone. In the next instant, Fomor slid his sword free and deflected a particularly vicious attack before it could sear Volot’s scalp to the bone.
“Phaella, Gant.” The captain did not raise his voice, but the two did not hesitate. With no more warning than a blur of movement in their peripheral vision, Volot and Adahna found themselves seated in the dust, disarmed and slightly winded from the fight. Gant stood behind Volot, lightly gripping the combative angel’s tunic as Phaella did the same for Adahna. The siblings struggled to look appropriately stern.
“This is what we fled Par-Adis to avoid,” Fomor growled in a voice the rest had to strain to hear. “This is why we refused to join either side.”
“Fine, Fomor, call off your dogs,” Volot said.
At Fomor’s nod, Phaella and Gant stepped aside, returning the confiscated weapons with identical grins.
“Very well Volot, since you and Adahna have consented to play nice,” Fomor said with a grin and offered each combatant a hand up.
Adahna grimaced, but took the proffered hand. Volot ignored him and stood on his own, brushing the dirt from his tunic and refusing to look at any of his companions.
Jotun moved up to walk beside Fomor as the group resumed their journey. “Much as it would hurt certain individuals to hear it, they are both right Fomor.” He gestured towards the setting sun. “It’s been years since the Victory. By now Lucky has had a chance to heal, and to plot revenge. Those who refused to join him will be prime targets.”
“So, it’s more important than ever to keep out of sight of his patrols,” Fomor said.
The training officer nodded. “So we need to choose; either resign ourselves to perpetual nomadism or find a place where we can settle in, cover ourselves.”
Fomor squinted up at the blond titan. “You think Lucky knows we’re down here?”
“Unknown, Cap. But I’ll tell you this; he had a lot more spies in Sabaoth’s elite command than we knew about. Enough to know which units…” the blue eyes glanced away, hiding a galaxy of regret, “enough to be aware of the names of the units that abstained. We can’t have been the only ones.”
They walked together in silence as Fomor mulled these factors over. “Yes, you’re right. We need to choose. In the meantime, shelter would not be a bad idea. Sena – care to do some vertical reconnaissance?”
The smallest member of their group smoothed her skirt and giggled softly. “No problem Cap. Give me a minute. And Gant? No peeking up my tunic when I take off.”
Gant muffled a soft bark of laughter as Sena rose silently, her wings making almost no sound in the warm desert air. Thirty feet overhead, she began a slow 360 degree turn. At 100 degrees, she paused, then completed the rotation and settled back to the Earth.
“Looks like there’s an oasis about a day’s walk in that direction,” she said, pointing south. “Also, there’s a small village on the southern edge of the oasis. Not large, maybe three or four families. I didn’t see any feathers in the vicinity but there is some company to our rear, maybe half a day behind. They’re riding donkeys so I’m thinking human.”
“It’s probably not good to let any more people see us than is absolutely necessary,” Phaella said. “Humans can’t keep their own secrets, let alone ours. If we let those people see so much as a wing tip it’ll be all over the region by nightfall. Let one of Lucky’s “burn victims” hear about it and they may be on us within the hour.”
“Well, we can’t shift. We move this many bodies through that much distance, we won’t have to worry about Lucky’s forces hearing rumors. Disturb the fabric of the Shift that much and he’ll hear us himself.”
“You have a point Volot. Suggestions?” Fomor looked at his second in command and waited patiently. Volot almost always had a plan.
“Fly.” He raised his palm at the chorus of protest. Flying wasn’t exactly unobtrusive and humans seemed to be especially fascinated with the process. “It’s dusk. The women will be busy with the evening meal. The men will be inside resting. If we approach the oasis from the west, in formation, we can screen at the last minute, fade right into the foliage so the humans can’t see us. Screening makes very little noise. If we do it one at a time, it’ll be almost silent. It’s not like we have any reason to believe Lucky is close anyway.”
Fomor looked at Sena. She had done the recon, she knew the terrain.
Sena tucked her chin to her chest, allowing the brown silk of her hair to shield her expression as she considered the proposal. Finally she nodded. “It will work, I think. But we shouldn’t approach from the rear of the village.” She crouched and began sketching a map in the sand. “The settlement is in a cleared area on the far end of the valley, here.” With a short stick she outlined a long, triangular valley bound by the toe-tips of a larger mountain range.
“There are three spring fed pools here, here and here.” She marked circles in the dust, two at the valley’s closer end and a third in the encircling foothills. “Two of the pools are separated from the village and the third pool by a series of low hills and vegetation. If we come in from the north, we’ll have cover and we won’t even have to screen. The humans won’t be able to see us if we fly low. With any luck at all, we can avoid the humans altogether, with no risk of anyone hearing us.”
Jotun, Phaella and Gant groaned.
“All right,” Fomor shrugged. “I know low level aviation isn’t your favorite, especially over hills at dusk, but it will get the job done. Good plan you two,” he nodded at Volot and Sena. “The wind is picking up too, give it an hour and there won’t be any tracks left for the LBV to pick up.”
Everyone stared at him uncomprehendingly until suddenly Adahna started to laugh. “LBV – Lucky’s Burn Victims? That is horrible,” she said.
“Hey, thank Phaella, she came up with it.”
Phaella polished her nails on the breast of her tunic. “I do what I can,” she said, earning herself a playful punch in the arm from Gant.
Volot wasn’t laughing. “Come on you bunch of hyenas, you’d think we were already safe around the fire with a nice custard for dessert. We need to move.” He pushed into the air, shoving past Sena hard enough to send her crashing to the ground if Gant hadn’t caught her.
“Volot,” he growled and would have lunged if Sena hadn’t grabbed his arm. She shook her head at him. Not worth it. Gant grimaced but subsided.
“What? Oh, sorry Sena, did I alter your plan?” Volot cruised off southward, laughing at his own joke. The rest followed in sil
ence, staying low, keeping the course of caution, at least for the moment.
The unit settled to the ground behind the low hills on the north edge of the valley. As their sandaled feet touched the ground they automatically shifted their wings back and down where they shimmered flat, forming a full back tattoo on each flyer. Shoulders rolled, settling their specially made tunics so that the slits through which the wings emerged for flight were unnoticeable.
Fomor motioned for Volot and Jotun to follow, the others to stay, as he moved carefully around the hill into a thick stand of vegetation, just as Sena had promised. The fading light of the setting sun was enough to reveal a large glade, watered by two spring fed pools, the furthest at least 500 cubits to the south. Stately date palms ringed the pools, offering both shade and food. From the air they had seen the roofs of a permanent settlement further south but between the foliage and the distance, even those weren’t discernible from the ground. Fomor was confident that, given the hour, dinner preparations were underway and the unit would not have to worry about being discovered by the villagers tonight.
“All right, Jotun, go bring the others in. We’ll camp here tonight and set out again tomorrow.”
Jotun groaned but turned to obey. Volot had other ideas.
“Fomor, there is no reason why we shouldn’t stay here.”
Fomor looked at his lieutenant without speaking for a moment, then motioned Jotun to complete his mission. “Speak, Volot. You will not be content until you do.”
“We cannot travel forever. Setting up on our own is just asking for trouble. Lucky will be looking for that. But if we infiltrate an established village or town, we can blend in.”
“Blend in? Among humans? When was the last time you measured your own height against a human’s, let alone some of our more, shall we say, unusual characteristics?” Fomor lifted a skeptical eyebrow and flexed his shoulders, allowing his wing tips to peek over before settling them back into place.
“Some humans are very tall,” Volot replied. “I heard rumors, just before war broke out, of one group in particular that are almost as tall as we are. As for our other “characteristics,” as you say, we need not display them if we choose not to.”
“Point taken. But even if it is true about this group you speak of, we haven’t found them yet and what makes you think we ever will?” He held up his hand as Volot would have interrupted. “Put that aside for the moment. Even if we could blend in, how long would it last? And what happens to the humans when we are found out? You know we will be. It is just a matter of time before the humans figure it out or some of the LBV come hunting.”
Volot fairly shook with impatience. “Maybe the humans will figure us out, maybe they won’t, we can cross that bridge if we come to it. But there is no reason for the LBV to come looking for us. Even now the humans are obeying The Command and their numbers increase daily. Within a generation there will be so many that Lucky will never find us without divine assistance, and there is no reason for Sabaoth to do that.”
Fomor stood silent for so long that Volot began to hope that he had won.
Finally the captain shook his head. “I don’t know whether I agree with your final assumption or not, but either way, the risk is too great. We may be able to settle down in a generation or so. As you say, by then we may be able to hide among a larger population. We discover new talents every day, perhaps we can learn to cloak more quietly or, in a larger group maybe the noise will be less easily heard.”
“Yes! This is exactly what I’m saying. We can conceal ourselves more easily in a larger group.”
“Possibly,” Fomor conceded, “but we cannot risk the lives of humans for our own convenience. If we do that we are no better than Lucky, perhaps worse because we do not hate them as he does.” He turned away and Volot fell silent, knowing it was useless to argue further.
Within moments Jotun returned with the others and the group began making preparations for the night ahead. They first set up a shield of palm fronds to hide their fire, then trained the smoke along the ground to dissipate on the far side of the low hills.
Fomor smiled grimly as he watched Sena perform what, to them, was a simple task. If a human saw her speaking softly over the fire, guiding air currents to control the smoke, that would be the end of their anonymity.
Little was said as the others sensed the tension between their leaders. Gant and Phaella brought water and dates for the evening meal. In less than an hour the first watch had been set and the remaining six were gathered around the fire.
Jotun looked carefully from Fomor to Volot. “So, Captain, we camp here tonight. What is the plan for the morning?”
“We do another recon at dawn and see if there is a way to move on without being seen by the humans.”
“And if we cannot avoid contact?” The irritation in Volot’s tone earned him a startled glance from Phaella.
“Discovery,” Fomor’s voice hardened, “is not an option.”
Volot scowled but said nothing.
Sena stretched and yawned, “It has been a longer day than I realized and I have second watch.” Gathering her cloak around her she curled onto her side and made every effort to appear to be asleep in moments.
The others followed suit one by one until only Fomor and Volot remained awake around the fire. Finally Fomor grinned at his friend.
“You will not sway my mind by outlasting me at the fire, old friend. Besides, you know in your heart that I am right.”
Volot’s answering grin was reluctant, but unforced. “I know it, brother. But I am weary and I long for rest from this running.”
Fomor nodded, “No more than I. And I promise you Volot, have patience and we will find sanctuary, at no cost to any but ourselves.” Gathering his cloak around him the captain curled up on the ground and slept, leaving Volot staring into the fire.
***
Bright sunlight and a soft breeze marked the morning’s inevitable arrival. Fomor gave orders for the team to stay out of sight and sent Sena and Phaella in opposite directions on reconnaissance.
“I’m going to see if this hole has anything to eat besides dates,” Volot muttered and stalked off into the trees. The others set about completing chores that had accumulated over the past week’s travels.
Standing in the shade of several of the largest date palms, Fomor bent his gaze into the earth; searching for root vegetables he could harvest in order to bolster their food supplies. It had taken some time, but he was growing fairly adept at finding such things beneath the top soil, even if he didn’t recognize the foliage visible on the surface.
After finding the food he sought, he practiced looking deeper into the earth while he waited for the return of his companions. Eventually, he thought, we might try using this deeper vision to locate metal and mineral deposits. It will be easier to blend in if we have an occupation, as humans do.
He ran a rough hand around the back of his neck and flexed his shoulders in frustration. The constant traveling was wearing on him as well. There had to be a way to settle somewhere and support themselves. He grinned as his vision revealed a cache of raw amethyst in one of the deeper rock formations and near it, a large deposit of alabaster. Jewels weren’t of much practical use that he could see, but Sena had reported that human women seemed to enjoy them. Other materials, such as copper and alabaster, would have a greater market value since they could be fashioned into useful articles. He hadn’t been practicing long when a woman’s voice shattered his concentration.
Fomor ground his teeth at the sight of Volot, standing on the opposite side of the pool talking to a human female. I will kill him, he thought, but knew, even as the impulse was born, that Volot would have a perfectly valid reason for revealing himself. The real surprise is that it’s taken him this long to figure out a way to make contact. The only question is what to do about it now that he has shoved us into the open.
The woman laughed a soft, musical chuckle that drew and held Fomor’s attention. Looking into her face h
e felt something inside him slip and braced himself as if to keep from falling. Long black hair swirled to her waist and framed her face, setting off eyes as green as the sea. Delicate gold bracelets danced around her milk white wrists. There was no question that she was gorgeous. The thing that caught Fomor’s attention most though was her height; the woman stood at least seven cubits tall.
It took several moments for the captain to realize that Volot and the woman were not alone. A smiling blond woman, slightly shorter than the brunette, stood proprietarily close to Volot, concentrating fiercely on every word he said. A moment later the trio turned and began skirting the pool. Grateful that he had seen them before they were aware of his glance, Fomor walked over to the fire and sat down to wait.
A moment later, just as the trio broke the cover of the trees with the brunette in the lead, Sena settled softly to the sand beside him, twelve cubit wing span fully displayed.
Perfect. Fomor watched narrowly as the brunette’s eyes widened, then clouded in confusion when Sena’s wings shimmered and abruptly disappeared. Seeing the look on Fomor’s face, Sena whipped around to face the trees, her own face draining of color as the brunette was joined by Volot and the blonde.
“Fomor, I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Sena whispered.
He motioned her to silence and stood. “It is no fault of yours and perhaps there is no harm done,” he murmured. “The woman seems uncertain of what she saw. In any case, Volot will answer for this and no one else.” Arms crossed, face stern, he waited as the three approached.
“Fomor, I know what you will say, but Shahara and I,” he indicated the blonde woman, “literally ran into one another on the path. And her sister, Danae, was right behind her. Surely there can be no harm in them?”
“No, indeed, but what of the others? Has there not been enough suffering?” Fomor’s voice was flint hard and cold as the fires of hell.
“Truly sir, you must not blame Volot.” The one called Danae spoke for the first time, her voice low and sweet. “Shahara has a habit of running ahead while talking to those behind. In truth it is a miracle she does not run over someone every day.” She smiled at him as her sister pretended to be aggrieved at her words.
