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NECHUM NEVER THOUGHT it would take Akela so long, and his imagination filled to bursting with all the ways things could have gone wrong. He sighed and rose from the floor. Worrying around wasn’t helping things. He needed to take a walk and clear his head.
Alameth still sat in prayer. So still had he been through the hours, he could well have been an alabaster statue—flawless and regal yet distant and cold.
Nechum’s countenance saddened. For the same reason he knew a man cannot live on an island alone, he desired to draw Alameth, the real Alameth, out. He was in there, somewhere behind that stoic exterior. Nechum reached for his shoulder, eager to hear if he was okay from his own mouth, but Nechum drew back. A supernatural instinct, one from God, informed him it wasn’t the time. He relented. Alameth still needed his space.
Walking on, Nechum passed Laszio and Eran, who sat on their knees. They concentrated hard on their training regiment. Their wings were wide open, and the edges of their feathers transitioned between forms. One second their barbules softened to the point of splitting apart, then just as quickly sharpened to knives.
“Pardon me for interrupting,” Nechum said. “But what sort of training is this?”
Releasing a breath, Ean let his wings lax. He regarded Nechum over his shoulder. “Feather drills. For flight techniques.”
“Oh. And how many flight techniques are there?” Nechum asked.
Laszio twisted around. “As many as there are birds.”
The thought reeled in Nechum’s head. “How do you keep them all straight?”
Laszio shrugged. “I don’t know. It just became second nature at this point.”
After a silent moment, Eran cupped his chin. “Nechum, how do you think Akela learned so much about that ash?”
Nechum sensed a deeper reason behind Eran’s question and reflected longer than usual on Akela. Chipper, inquisitive; as cheerful and lively yet as unpredictably spastic as a firecracker. Nechum smiled. “I think Akela enjoys God’s creation so much, he simply loves to learn about everything anytime and anywhere he is. Which probably explains why he’s so distracted most of the time.”
Eran looked aside. “I guess that makes sense.”
Nechum’s empathic sense picked up on Eran’s frustration, but not one that was aimed outward but inward, and he read in both of them the hallmarks of hearts burdened by inadequacy.
The two Privates begged their pardon and resumed training.
As he watched, it became all the clearer to Nechum. Their fears of failure drove them. He wished to continue their conversation, but just like with Alameth, Nechum held his tongue. He didn’t know their story yet. His relationship with them hadn’t time to grow either, and any encouraging words he may have said would carry little weight.
Caught up in thought, Nechum walked on. The group dynamic had again changed on him. Now, with more and more issues cropping up from each of his brethren, figuring out whom God expected him to help became more perplexing than ever. Anxiety churned Nechum’s energy to the point where his neck and face flushed. “It could be any of them, Lord,” he prayed. “Who is it?”
Nechum paused, ordering his thoughts to freeze their frenzy. Or maybe not knowing so I’d help everyone is the point. Pondering where this conclusion led to, Nechum took another minute to let the idea unfold. In which case, I must look out for everybody. Is that correct, Lord? While their focus is on the enemy, I focus on them?
Overwhelmed by the responsibility of such a revelation, Nechum turned the corner.
Jediah, who was seated, rushed to hide something. Nechum squinted. Whatever he had, he tucked into his belt under his ministry cloak. Jediah acted unaware of him, but Nechum recognized the nervous gaze of a pretender.
Despite suspicions, Nechum decided confronting his captain wouldn’t be wise. Still, his mind committed it to memory. He folded his hands. “Oh. Hello, Captain, I didn’t know you were resting here.”
“It’s just ‘Jediah’ right now, brother Nechum.” Jediah gave the kindest smile, yet Nechum noticed his golden brown eyes lost their luster.
Nechum examined Jediah’s arm, which now laid free from the sling. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Fine. Thank you,” Jediah handed Nechum his now perfectly folded and freshly cleaned shawl. Glinting flakes shed off the dried fabric as it traded hands. Wrapping it about his shoulders, Nechum refastened the silver pin. He then noticed how Jediah gazed at the pin’s shape, almost with longing. The adornment glinted with a cross in its center, and three unbroken circles crowned its arms. It was the angelic crest and bore a striking resemblance to the Mark of the Trinity. Every angel wore it. Jediah’s fingers traced the same design at the center of the captain’s crest sewn into his scarf.
Jediah’s jaw trembled. “Nechum?” He licked his lips. “Have you ever... do you... uh.”
Confused, Nechum sat down beside him.
“What is it like to...” Jediah’s voice petered out in a sigh.
Nechum placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Go on.”
For a moment, Jediah fell into a lost stare. He closed his eyes and released a chuckle from deep in his chest. “It must be amazing for you to get to watch God enter an Image Bearer’s heart. It must be the most wonderful part in your role.”
A wistfulness overcame Nechum as a flood of memories rushed by. “Yes. The most wonderful of all.”
“W—what is that like for them?” Jediah asked. “What happens?”
Nechum’s eyebrows dipped. For the second time that day, he sensed a veiled motive behind a question. “Well,” Nechum started. “They ask Jesus into their life and pardon for sin, but it’s not as simple as walking an aisle, or praying a prayer.”
Jediah nodded. “I know. I know. There’s gotta be more to it.”
“There is.”
“And it’s not salvation by works.”
“Absolutely not.”
“So there’s a core to redemption that stays with them afterwards. What do you think it is?”
Jediah’s eyes rekindled the more he inquired. Puzzle pieces fell in place, and a sudden concern seized Nechum as he saw where this led. “Captain, we can’t—”
“Captain! Captain!” Laszio called.
Jediah shot to his feet. “Laszio? What is it?”
They followed Laszio’s voice around the corner, and standing in the tunnel stood Akela, huffing and puffing and holding a weary nature angel up by the arm. Instinctively, Nechum rushed to help Akela lower his companion to the ground. The nature angel’s tunic had been ripped. The white wisp embellishments, marks of a wind angel, flipped in weak angles, and a terrible exhaustion covered the angel’s face as if he was just salvaged from a war front.
“Akela!” Jediah shouted. He marched into his face. “What are you doing bringing him here?”
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Akela panted. His hands seized Jediah’s arms in a death grip. “I had to get Jedd out of there. I just had to. And we need to go back!”
“Go back? What do you mean, go back?” Jediah coaxed Akela’s hands to loosen. “Calm down. Tell me what happened.”
“Jedd and his clan were attacked on route to America. We barely escaped.”
“By whom?” Jediah asked.
“Soldiers. Demon soldiers.”
Laszio scowled and gripped the sticks on his belt. “Why would they attack wind class nature angels?”
Lifting on his elbows, Jedd sat straight up. “To hijack the warm front.”
“By the way, this is Jedd,” Akela interjected. His hands motioned introductions. “Jedd. Everybody. Everybody. Jedd.”
Eran rolled his eyes. “We figured that, Akela.”
Jedd swayed, and Nechum drew him closer. His half-shut eyes closed for a moment as he leaned heavily against Nechum’s arm. “My clan was maintaining the south wind,” he wheezed. “It’s supposed to reach America in two days, but now it’ll be there in one.”
Jediah shook his head in confusion. “And is that bad?”
Jedd’s eyes popped open to the size of saucers. “Is that bad? The warm front is moving too fast! It’ll inevitably smack head on into the cold front. Don’t you understand? It’s an oncoming, unsanctioned natural disaster! We’re talking a massive supercell that’ll generate the most devastating tornado strike in history!”
Nechum swallowed down his personal dread.
Kneeling, Jediah met Jedd at eye level. “Where are the other wind angels now?”
“In Mexico,” Akela answered. “They were let go, but they’re in worse shape than he is.” With pleading eyes, Akela stepped forward, his hands folded and shaking. “Sir? Please? I know we’re on a mission. I know it’s secret, and it’s a bit of a detour. I promised no detours, but we—we have to do something. Please? Brother?”
“But what can we do, Akela?” Jediah said, quiet and regretful. “None of us can bend the winds.”
“We can’t, but he can.” Akela motioned to Jedd. “He’ll be able to do it. I know he will, but he can’t go back alone. Those same demons are tailing that warm front and will slaughter him on sight, but if he had some protection...” He gestured toward Jediah, then everyone else.
Nechum bit his lip, awaiting Jediah’s answer.
Jediah planted his hands on his hips and stared at the ground.
“Sir.” Eran stepped forward. “If I may suggest, we can fight and still hide our identities.”
Laszio nodded in agreement. Passion lit the grey in his eyes to a lightning azure.
Jediah’s brow wrinkled, but Nechum could barely hear him mumble in a quiet breath, “Do not withhold good, when it’s in your power to act.” Then, taking hold of his blue cloak, Jediah wrapped the looser folds to cover his lower face.
***
“Uh, is this really necessary?” Nechum’s hands trembled as he fashioned a translucent shield into a waterboard big enough for him and Jedd to stand on. He listened to the crashing waves of an angry sea as it smacked the Normandy beaches in fury. Nechum shook his head with increasing vigor. “Maybe Jedd should fly with Akela and the rest of you go ahead without me. I can catch up.”
Laszio slapped a hand on Nechum’s shoulder and pointed toward the black horizon. “You want to run to the Mexican Gulf through that? Be my guest.”
Winds howled and threw blinding sea spray into the clouds. “Who knew storms were brewing both here and there?” Nechum thought.
“No one’s leaving anybody,” Jediah emphasized. “Are you about done, Eran?”
“Just a sec.” Eran knotted his and Laszio’s strings together, then screwed one stick from each pair into the other, creating a handlebar. “That should do it.”
Jediah examined Eran’s handiwork and nodded. “And you’re sure this’ll work.”
“It should, sir.”
Jediah patted Eran on the back and handed the handlebar back to him. “Let’s hope so.”
Nechum molded four footholds into his waterboard and set it upon the water’s edge. Balancing on first, he slipped his feet into the straps. Jedd wrapped his arms around his waist and fitted his feet in as well. “Are you sure you’re okay with this, Jedd?” Nechum asked.
“Of course. It looks pretty fun actually.”
Nechum nodded to himself. He should have expected this level of optimism from Akela’s closest friend.
Laszio handed Nechum the makeshift handlebar. “Don’t let go.” Laszio tied one of the long ends around his wrist. Eran similarly tethered himself to the other cord.
Alameth, who had been gazing into the foul distance, turned to Nechum. “Are you gonna be okay?”
Touched by Alameth’s sudden show of concern, Nechum hesitated, then answered. “Yeah.” He adjusted his hold. “Yeah.”
Akela bounced foot to foot and shook out his arms. “Captain, we gotta leave now!”
“Akela,” Jediah ordered. “Stay close to Laszio and Eran and keep watch for surprises.”
“Like demon sharks?”
Jediah rolled his eyes at the lame joke. “Sure, Akela. Demon sharks.”
“Aye, aye,” Akela saluted, then joined Laszio and Eran, who stood atop the smaller crests.
Jediah gestured to Alameth. “You watch our backs.” He took Nechum and Jedd by the shoulders. “You two ready?”
“Um, yeah.” Nechum cringed at himself. His voice sounded more anxious than he wanted it to. “Just in case I fall—”
Jedd nudged his back. “You’re not gonna fall. You’re gonna do great.”
Nechum looked over his shoulder. “You do realize you’re the one hanging on to me, right?”
“You’re going to be fine. I’m right behind you.” Jediah unwrapped his wings. They spread far out the sides of his blue cloak. “Laszio! Eran! Start slow, then pick up speed!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Lifting off, the two rose with the slipstream. The lengthened cords tied to their wrists dragged behind them length by length.
Nechum double checked his grip on the handlebar. “So I do nothing, right?”
“Mostly.” Jedd hugged tighter.
“Mostly?”
“Well, prior experience says lean back and don’t let go.”
“Prior experience? Then why aren’t you the one hanging—” The rope yanked him forward.