They covered four spans along the bottom when a family of otters showed up and began circling each of the spheres. The critters had dark brown fur with golden gloss on their heads and shoulders, and furry tails tapering toward the tips. They seemed curious at first with one swimming right up to the sphere where Jubal could get a good look at the creature. It poked its nose and whiskers inside the barrier, sniffed, and just as quickly retreated. From that point on the whole family joined in the game, but never came farther in than a head-length.
Connisea giggled at the antics and since the playful creatures did not seem to pose a threat, Jubal refrained from focusing potential at them. The aquatic escorts stayed with them all the way to the point where Hermes sat waiting beside the sailboat he had been told to form out of a tree. Jubal walked up onto the bank and ceased potential for Aqua Sphere.
He noted a cloudless starry sky and was pleased the storm had passed. After a few moments he removed the Da Capo on the Aaka holding the crocodile.
“Who are you?” The son of Zeus demanded and jumped to his feet.
“I am Elusion,” Jubal replied while leading Peleg and his family over to the boat. After the other spheres came up out of the river he added, “Meet Nemesis, Luna, and Gaea.”
Hermes pointed a baton at Elusion. “Luna’s aura is a match for that of Ursa, but your faces are unfamiliar to me. Jubal might have recruited you to guide these people, but he never mentioned a change in plans, and we are going nowhere until you explain.”
“I am Ursa and he is Jubal, you dullard,” the sister of Andromeda informed him. “These are images created by Metamorphosis amulets.”
“Jubal has one for you, I’m sure. Can you raise your tone another octave? If not you will have difficulty using this form and passing yourself off as a woman.”
Hermes pointed the baton at her. “Victoria, Ursa, what good is a great disguise if you are going to blab your name out for all to hear? Yes, Vicky, I recognized your squeaky tone, so don’t bother denying it is you. Well, at least you confirmed who the big Nephilim in hunter’s garb is.”
“He is right about our personas, you gave away yourselves and me,” Jubal added his voice to the admonishment, and then gathered the families. “It is time for everyone to get into the boat. There will be plenty of time for talking on the way.”
“You have a mast and a sail but no oars,” Peleg pointed out. “And no wind to speak of.”
“How are we going to go up against the current?” Ruuple asked.
“Get in the boat and you will see,” Jubal replied and within minutes his instructions were carried out. Hermes sat at the tiller, Ursa at the bow.
“He is going to use magic,” Rue proudly provided the answer.
Everyone found a seat and then Jubal sat behind the sail. The Melody, Stream of Air, played in his mind, summoning the potential, and he focused forward.
Unlike the tree-snapping wind he conjured during his second attempt at gaining altitude, a gentle breeze filled the sail and pushed the craft forward at a pace faster than Hermes could sprint on level ground.
The son of Zeus piloted the boat left of center and maintained that course all the way to about three spans from the original Settlement, where Pan sat waiting to do his part. The wooly-headed Melody-wielder stood up at the watercraft’s silent approach.
He stared at the personas and then hugged Gaea. “I would know you in any guise, my love,” Pan stated and then released her. “I assume the huge male is our instructor, but I am uncertain about the two female Weapocarns.”
“I am Luna,” Ursa introduced her persona.
“Nemesis,” Vicky did the same, this time adding throatiness to her voice to keep from squeaking.
Ruuple came forward and gave quick bow. “We, my family and I, thank you mighty Pan for the bounty you provided and guidance to our new home.”
The wooly headed Aakacarn stared down into the eyes of the Tiny. “It is the duty of the Nephilim to help our brothers and sisters. We are doing what all of our kind should be doing for you people.”
“Lead the way,” Jubal decided to hurry them a little, figuring there would be time enough for expressions of gratitude along the way. “I will walk in the rear.”
Pan headed into the woods and everyone followed him single file, except Hermes. He would sail the boat on to the original settlement and then return in the morning to transport Vicky, Natura, and Ursa, back to Semidon well after dawn.
Jubal walked behind Rue and Deborah, who went from being in front of the boy to walking right beside him. They spoke softly to each other along the way but Jubal paid no attention. Three spans inland brought them to the first tree he had marked years earlier. When everyone had passed beyond that point, he placed his hand on the trunk and used the Aaka, Form Wood, to make the arrow vanish, restoring the bark to its original state.
“Why did you do that?” Rue asked.
Jubal eyed the two young people and pointed ahead, indicating they should keep walking. “I do not want anyone finding your new home. A skilled Weapocarn who has been there might remember the way, but with these markings anyone could find you. I will erase every single one as we go.”
Deborah smiled. “I like it when you do magic. I wish I could cast spells and put on a piece of jewelry to make myself prettier.”
“You could use a magic charm,” Rue told her, “But it would cost you your life. Besides, you are already pretty.”
Her smile broadened. “Do you really think so?”
Jubal did his best to ignore their discussion the rest of the way through the woods. They reached the new settlement a few hours before dawn. Half a score of spheres, robin-red in color, illumined multi-storied homes that were formed out of three massive trees near the spring. The three had been saplings back when Jubal had first laid eyes on them.
“Our houses are alive,” Drusilla marveled at the spectacle, and well she should. The Melody-wielding involved was truly impressive.
“You did a fine job, my husband,” Natura praised him.
“Yes, excellent work,” Jubal added his appreciation of the accomplishment.
He wanted to go inside each home, knowing the workmanship would be superb, but his own tasks were not yet complete. “I hope to take a tour of each residence when I get back with Betsenadab.”
Kareesia teared up at his words. “Bet and I will gladly give you that tour. Forevermore you will be welcomed in our home.”
She gave him a quick hug, which he had not been expecting, and then stepped back.
Jubal nodded acknowledgement of her words and began feeding life-force energy to the hawk, “Pan, I can fly. Natura will tell you all about it.”
The giant hawk was forming around him as he spoke. Elusion’s feet stretched into talons, and his arms into wings. The first persona was encased in the second, a stunt untried until that moment, but it had worked out well and so Jubal was satisfied
“Now that is impressive.” Pan’s opinion was appreciated.
“Show off.” Vicky’s response came as no surprise.
“Just watch what else I can do, while you can,” Jubal replied and ceased the flow of power to the Weapocarn figurine, and then wielded his next Melody.
Elevation projected him up through the trees and high into the starry sky, leaving his audience staring upward. He quickly located the little and big dippers, the North Star, and those heavenly objects told him the direction in which to go. Wings open wide, he ceased Elevation and focused Forward Shield under his feathered body, along with Stream of Air, and the combination provided lift. He flew straight as an arrow toward Semidon.
A journey of more than thirty-four spans up the river and another twenty through the woods had taken many hours, but in the air only minutes went by and then he could see the familiar firefly pattern of lights that was Semidon at night. He ceased Forward Shield and Stream of Air, gliding in a smooth descent as the amber, orange, and yellow, in the eastern horizon declared in spectacular fashion the imminent ris
ing of the sun. His goal was to enter the river before dawn.
He flew over the water, getting closer every moment to the surface, and just before entering the river, he sent a flow of life-force energy to the third figure hanging against his collarbone, and instantly the hawk-form was within that of a huge crocodile. Fortunately the sun had not risen and no one would be able to see a pair of feathered wings protruding from the great reptile’s abdomen. He ceased the flow to the second figurine right at the moment the crocodilian-form splashed down.
Chapter Twenty-One: Extraction
The challenge in mastering the new form had not been so much in how to move head, arms, and legs, but in figuring out how to manipulate the tail. The latter was purely a construct of solidified energy matching no moving part of Jubal’s anatomy, yet was also the only efficient way to propel the faux-croc through the water. The hawk’s tail worked because it automatically adjusted to what his arms and hands were doing with the wings, but nothing he could do with any of his natural appendages affected the crocodilian tail.
It had taken him a while but he met the challenge, having spent hours learning to swim. The time had come to put those lessons to work with full vigor. Right, left, right, left, he willed the tail to move, and the huge body shot forward faster than a canoe could be rowed. He took a deep breath and then submerged into the watery world he had walked through the night, using his head to steer while swimming with sunfish, gar, trout, and hundreds of other aquatic creatures.
His custom construct stretched thirty-five paces from nose to tail and consequently even the large crocodiles were smaller and therefore gave him plenty of space. One advantage the real reptiles had over him became abundantly clear; any one of them could hold their breath under water far longer than he could.
Passing the sunken sailboat indicated he was a span from where the extraction would take place, a detail that was quickly becoming the smallest of his concerns. It felt as if his lungs were going to burst with the strain of holding in the air, need forced him to angle up, and when his snout broke the surface, he exhaled explosively. In and out he breathed, chest rising and falling. The sun stung his eyes, reminding him his crocodilian-form was highly visible to anyone who happened to glance at the river. He took a deep breath and submerged. Right, left, right, left, his will swung the tail, propelling the gigantic body.
The work crews had not yet arrived and so Jubal stayed hidden under the water. He had hoped it would not become necessary to overtly wield a Melody, but such was unavoidable if the mission was to succeed. An idea of how to solve the problem of breathing popped into his head and so he settled on the bottom of the river near where the plan called for him to be.
He could not manipulate the tail and mentally perform the necessary Aaka at the same time, especially since a little experimenting needed to be done. The notes for Aqua Sphere sounded in his mind, summoning the potential, and immediately his energy created a ball large enough to surround the crocodilian body.
The yellow filter combined with his indigo hue colored the sphere green, but it was way too big, which meant a Nephilim standing on the bank could possibly see the glow. He quickly lowered the volume of the tune, causing the glowing bubble of energy to shrink rapidly, and then his head was suddenly outside the field.
Reflexively he moved to curl up enough to re-enter the sphere, but then stopped, and instead thought of his head as the center. The reaction was instantaneous, one moment the air bubble was in one place and the next it was centered on his mind, a dangerous place in deed to focus a Melody. Doing the same with Sparking the Flame would have instantly cooked his brain, killing him so fast he would not have had time enough to feel regret or anything else.
Having survived the most dangerous part of the experiment, he decided to proceed with decreasing the volume, and did so until the sphere was slightly larger than his faux-croc’s head. He doubted anyone could see the glow from the depth and so waited quietly as the aquatic wildlife went about their daily routines. Only the minnows dared to come close to him and even they stayed away from the sphere around his head.
Through the rippling waves Jubal noticed people step into view to stare out over the river. Boats of all shapes and sizes were rowing and sailing on the surface and a few brave souls actually jumped into the water and began swimming. The faux-croc was half buried in the mud and so went unnoticed and Jubal wondered how many times people had placed themselves in such peril without ever being aware of the fact.
A woodened tool for measurement fell in the water and was floating on the surface. A familiar face appeared at the bank. The man had shaved off his whiskers and had on gray woolens, but the spear-toting guard had to be Hubris. He turned to a group of workers and then pointed at the river. Another guard came forward, it was Xerxes. He escorted Betsenadab to the water’s edge and pointed emphatically with his weapon.
Jubal ceased Aqua Sphere, but placed a Da Capo, should a quick refocus become necessary, and then began his swim to the surface, not too fast, and not too slow, the timing had to be perfect.
Betsenadab dived into the water, swimming toward the measuring stick, and Jubal surfaced directly behind him. Right, left, right, left, he willed the tail to swish and the great reptilian body surged forward just as he opened his mouth. The tiny man screamed and his arms and legs worked furiously to escape but three quick swishes of the tail lined him up with the lower jaw and Jubal snapped the mouth shut.
To the eyes of a Tiny it was completely dark in the air-tight space he suddenly occupied and the experience had to be unnerving. Jubal sympathized but was busy willing the tail to move left and right. He submerged and pointed the crocodilian nose against the current and then concentrated on moving the great tail back and forth as quickly as his mind could register the thought. The faux-croc was racing through the water at a speed he could not accurately measure, but seemed very fast.
Three glowing blue-black blades of air shot past him on the right, followed by three on the left, and then three ahead, all were angling from the surface. He did not need to look in order to identify the hue. His brother Poseidon was nobly attempting to rescue the man. Jubal had made the diamond-tipped trident that launched Blades of Air and was tempted to will the Da Capo gone, but that would immediately make his brother suspicious. Fortunately the bronze-ranked Aakacarn did not have his other producer that focused Elevation or the other with Divert. Jubal did not want to be plucked out of the water and suspended in the air or be wrapped and trapped in bands of water.
Suddenly the triplet of Hades and Zeus was in the river and being sustained by an aqua sphere, unfortunately directly in front of his younger brother in crocodilian form. Right, left, right, left, the mental mantra continued to propel the huge body while blue-black blades of air shot at it, unhindered by the current. The projectiles plunged into the wider forward portion of the crocodilian form, but did not reach the humans cocooned within.
Jubal pointed the snout to the right, propelling the huge body in that direction, and succeeded in dodging three blades. He darted around past the sphere and grimaced in pain at three sharp stabs in his left side. The croc-jaw opened slightly during the pain response, allowing water to enter the airtight space where Betsenadab was temporarily breathing his own exhalations. He would need fresh air soon, unless his rescuer ended up accidentally drowning him.
It took a supreme act of will for Jubal to keep the tail swishing while ignoring the blood leaking from the three stab wounds and the pain associated with them. Each swipe to the left and right aggravated the injuries. The blades had disappeared almost instantly, but not before penetrating through the energy field of the crocodilian form, through actual flesh, and into his ribs. Being struck by Elevation might have been better, but the errant thought did nothing to change the situation.
Razor sharp projectiles continued to shoot past him from behind and the few that struck the energy field hit the tail, doing him no further injury. Right, left, right, left, he willed the great body forward.
Tiring, he lowered his head just for a moment and the faux-croc arrowed toward the bottom. He raised his chin, pointing his nose upward, correcting the problem and also inflicting a great deal of pain as his body bent to follow the motion. The hurting convinced him some of his ribs had been cracked by the blades, but hopefully sustained no punctures to the lung.
Betsenadab lie motionless in a puddle within the airtight jaws and might well have passed into unconsciousness. Conjuring Aqua Sphere so both of them could breathe would also clue Poseidon in that he was not dealing with a natural crocodile. He would know it was a fellow Aakacarn. Jubal pushed onward, forcing his damaged body to go just a little bit more, knowing the decision would have to be made soon or he and Bet would both die.
Jubal swam right over the sunken sailboat and knew he had put a span between himself and Poseidon. No matter the risk, Jubal could wait no longer. He focused the Aqua Sphere around the crocodilian head and opened his mouth to take in fresh air. The croc-jaw also opened, granting Betsenadab the same opportunity to breathe.
Jubal could not mentally perform another Aaka while propelling the massive body, so came to rest at the bottom as blades of air continued to shoot in his direction. The projectiles were being less well aimed as if Poseidon could no longer see his target, which also meant there was a good chance he could not see the glowing sphere.
Two Melodies came to mind, Stitch the Rip and Mend the Bone. Jubal inwardly played one, to heal the punctures in his flesh, and then the other to heal his ribs. He had lost blood and was exceedingly thirsty, but only food, water, and time, could rectify those two conditions.
The blades ceased to come; Poseidon had given up the rescue attempt. Jubal roused the croc-body off the bottom and resumed swimming against the current. His passenger began to squirm in the confines of the jaw, being unable to move more than a hand span in any direction or sit up. Betsenadab’s mouth opened and closed but sound could not penetrate the energy barrier and so he eventually gave up and stopped trying to communicate.
Dawn Of The Aakacarns Page 43
