SOUTH OF MUDENA DEL-EDHA
Just as Sariel’s body regained its whole, uninjured form, he felt the hands of two Iryllurym slip beneath his arms and gently lift him to a full standing position. “Thank you,” he muttered, grateful for the assistance.
The angels’ grip tightened.
“I have it,” he complained, shrugging his shoulders.
They held fast to his arms and their grip quickly became forceful and rigid. In the next moment, two more angels grasped his wings from behind, and he felt the blade of a vaepkir press against his neck.
Nuathel and another Iryllur walked forward.
Sariel assumed the last two were somewhere behind him, out of sight, likely with their weapons drawn.
“What are you doing?” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“We have to take you back,” the Fim-Rada answered.
Sariel stared hard at the soldier.
“You will stand trial and receive judgment for your disobedience,” Nuathel continued. “These are my orders.”
Sariel opened his mouth to respond, but quickly decided to keep silent. He had known deep down that this was a possibility. He’d even cautioned the Myndarym about it.
The Iryllurym pulled hard on his upper arms and turned him around to the north.
Instead of fighting, Sariel complied and walked with his captors, trying instead to remain calm, breathe carefully, and think quickly.
I could just shift out of their grasp, but they know where I’m going. They’ll just follow me. I have to kill them.
Sariel immediately began to run through hand-to-hand combat scenarios in his mind.
Two in front. Two beside. And two behind.
He’d been surrounded before, but never in this close of proximity. As each imagined battle came to an unacceptable end in his mind, his thoughts were slowly overwhelmed by the despair of never seeing Sheyir again.
What will happen to her? Who will protect her? Love her? No one.
She had no one in this world now. She was alone. And Sariel had come through too much to be with her.
Too much for this to stand in my way!
The blade pressed into his neck as they walked. He felt a warm trickle of wetness down his skin.
Nuathel and his second-in-command walked in front now with their backs turned. Their body language suggested they were confident that any threat had been neutralized.
Sariel had unwillingly come to the same conclusion. Tears began to form in his eyes. He thought of the coming trial, and the eternal judgment that would proceed from it. He was an enemy of the Amatru now, but not just a demon to be slain. He was special kind of enemy—a traitor.
As the hopelessness of his situation became more and more evident, something came alive inside him. Something that had been dormant for ages. Within his spirit, a mournful melody was born. It was the nature of a Shaper to hear and feel the Songs of Creation that flowed through everything; sustaining everything. And it was the nature of a Shaper to hear the melodies within his own spirit, and respond to them. But Sariel had followed a different path for so long that he had begun to wonder if his nature had changed; if the ability even existed any longer.
In his sadness, he heard the words of a friend.
It was an accident, but very effective.
In that moment, Sariel realized that the melody was the language of his spirit—the expression of his heart. And as his sadness translated into anger, he felt the melody twist and writhe inside him. What once would have frightened him, he now welcomed, for it brought with it a tremendous power that began to surge through his body. He felt invigorated, as in the early days when he had shaped creation. But this was more powerful. All consuming.
And darker than anything he’d experienced before.
He allowed the melody to grow and contort. To multiply into numerous, uncontrollable strands. His body began to shake with rage. His mouth opened. But instead of silence, a Song of Unshaping came forth. His anguish came out as a scream that blanketed the plains with its frightening power. Screams of fury were mixed with wails of sorrow; each dissonant tone woven together into a tapestry of darkness.
Sariel felt his body jolt as a spherical wave exploded outward from him. The sky and land seemed to distort as the pulse expanded and eventually dissipated into the vast openness of the plains.
Silence followed.
With eyes instinctively closed, Sariel waited, afraid to see what he’d done. One by one, his senses began to perceive his surroundings. The sound of the breeze moving through the grasses in the distance. The sound of insects buzzing nearby. The damp feeling of mist as it passed over his skin. The smell of the wet earth.
Sariel opened his eyes.
He was standing in a shallow depression of land. The grass underfoot was smashed into the soil, barely recognizable. All around him, the tall stalks of bright green vegetation were pushed on their sides, pointing outward. Sariel walked up the side of the earthen bowl and looked out across the plains. The effect of the pulse seemed to lessen with distance. The stalks of grass gradually transitioned from horizontal to vertical over a radius of two hundred feet. And randomly scattered within this diameter of Unshaping were the motionless forms of the Iryllurym. Sariel couldn’t tell if they were dead or just stunned. But the curiosity was fleeting.
He was free. And Sheyir was waiting.
Spreading his wings high into the air, he brought them down with all of his might as he jumped upward. One day, when there would be time to meditate on such things, he would think about this moment. He would consider what had happened and the implications of it. But not now. Now, he sped north, faster than he’d ever flown in his life.
* * * *
MUDENA DEL-EDHA
Fer-Rada Danduel stared at the abominations of flesh before him. They were huddled together with the women, and despite their size they cowered behind the tiny females. “Come here,” he commanded the largest one.
The creature glanced nervously about, but remained crouched behind the mothering presence of the humans.
One of Danduel’s soldiers stepped into the huddle and put a spear to the creature’s neck. “Get up!” he ordered.
Finally, the creature stood and began to make his way over to the Anduar officer.
As it came forward, Danduel inspected it. It was male. It moved upright on two legs. Judging by its facial features and body construction, it seemed to be a hybrid of Anduar and human. He estimated its height to be fifteen feet tall. And though it was larger than an Anduar, its gangly movements gave the impression that it was young, not yet fully grown.18
“Do you speak?” the Fer-Rada asked, having to look up at the youth.
The other Anduar stood near, still pointing his spear at the creature.
“Yes,” he mumbled.
What is Semjaza doing? Danduel mused as he circled slowly around the revolting beast, examining its smooth, hairless skin and muscular build. Then, his eyes drifted across the soil of the peninsula to the rest of Semjaza’s slaves. There were several other such creatures in the small crowd, all of various sizes. One infantile beast was even being held across the breast of a woman, and was already twice the size of a newborn human. Danduel felt the bile rise in his throat at the detestable image.
“My Rada,” a quickly approaching soldier called out.
Danduel turned away in disgust. “Yes?”
“The fortress is secure, but the Myndarym are nowhere to be found. It’s as if they disappeared.”
The Fer-Rada felt his face grow hot. “Send out your most skilled trackers. I want them found. The rest of us—let us be away from this place of wickedness! Nuathel will be needing our help by now. Move out.”
“Rada Talad!” the obedient soldiers shouted.
* * * *
THE MOUNTAINS SOUTH OF MUDENA DEL-EDHA
Breathing heavily, Sariel hid in the shadows of an overhang and looked from the cliffs northward along the peninsula road. The Fer-Rada and his Anduarym had evacuated the fortress and were marching now toward the eastern gate. Behind them, a small group of women were gathered near the entrance of Aryun Del-Edha. Among the women were several larger creatures who appeared human but for their angelic size. Sariel’s trained eyes took in everything at a glance, but his will was focused on only one thing. One person.
There she is! Sheyir’s alive!
He jumped from the cliffs and kept his wings only partially extended, dropping quickly toward the cove below. The jagged rocks passed by in seconds and the bare soil of the peninsula rushed up to meet him. Sariel extended his wings further and pulled up to flatten out above the road, which was now only a blur beneath him. The wind whipped at his face as his wings cut through the air with rapid efficiency. Everything on the horizon disappeared and all he could see was Sheyir.
Banking quickly right, then left, he maneuvered around several women wandering along the road. Their screams of surprise began to fill the air in a rolling succession as each one took notice of him.
“SHEYIR!” he shouted.
She quickly turned her head.
In that moment, as Sariel’s wings shot outward and abruptly slowed his Iryllur body, it seemed as though time itself came to a crawl.
Sheyir’s eyes widened.
Sariel inhaled.
She squinted.
He reached out his hands.
Her face softened as she reached forward.
He glided gently toward her and lifted her from the road.
She grasped him tightly.
With both arms around her, Sariel pulled Sheyir to his chest as his wings thrust downward and lifted them both into the sky. “It’s alright,” he told her. His calm voice was a stark contrast to the straining of his body. “I have you now. It’s alright,” he kept saying.
The tower of Aryun Del-Edha dropped away below them as Sariel flew north over the cliffs. When the mountains passed beneath them, he leveled out and banked to the northwest. Through the rush of air passing by, he heard a faint voice.
“Is it really you?”
“I’m sorry, my love” he replied, looking down into Sheyir’s glistening eyes. “I’ll never leave you again.”
Sheyir closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest.
Her clothes and hair were still wet from the flooded passage. Her skin displayed numerous abrasions and she looked thinner than normal. “Did he hurt you? Did Semjaza hurt you?” he asked.
Sheyir kept her face buried, but her head moved from side to side.
Sariel exhaled deeply, trying to expel the dread and anxiety that had lodged itself in his chest the day his love was taken captive. As he looked out now to the horizon, tears came to his eyes and rolled back across his temples, driven by the wind beating against his face—the liquid manifestation of his overwhelmed soul, beginning to drain away. “I’m sorry about your family … your people. I’ll never leave you alone again.”
Now Sheyir lifted her head. Wisps of hair flew wildly about her face. She squinted at the bright sunlight, but her mouth was curled up at the corners. “Where are we going?”
Without taking his eyes off her, Sariel answered. “Away. Far away!”
* * * *
“Look!” one of the Anduar called out.
Danduel spun around and glanced over the marching formation of soldiers to see an Iryllur flying rapidly along the peninsula. “Who is …?” he trailed off as he realized what he was witnessing. “No,” he said quietly.
The Iryllur came to a hover and plucked one of the women from the road, passing over the waters of the bay before gaining altitude.
“NO!” he screamed. “Where is Nuathel? He’s getting away!”
“My Rada,” another soldier said, pointing toward the eastern gate.
Danduel turned around to see an angel standing in the road directly in front of the Anduar formation. He was wingless, a Speaker from the Eternal Realm. One of his arms was missing, but despite his odd, incomplete look, he carried an aura of authority.
“Pri-Rada Ganisheel sent me to check on your progress. Semjaza is dead and it looks like congratulations are in order.”
Danduel’s heart quickened in his chest at the words of the Speaker. Sariel must have been successful in honoring his promise, but now he was escaping. Fim-Rada Nuathel and his Iryllurym hadn’t returned. And the rest of the Myndarym had vanished without a trace. All of these thoughts rushed through his mind in an instant, stealing the sense of satisfaction that should come with victory.
“You can forget about tracking the Myndarym,” the speaker continued.
Suddenly Danduel’s thoughts and emotions converged upon a single point. “But my mission is not complete. Semjaza’s kingdom has fallen, but there are many more who must be brought to justice.”
“Yes, I understand,” the Speaker replied dismissively. “But that is another task … for someone else.”
Danduel paused for a moment, not quite believing his ears. “But … surely the Pri-Rada knows that we have evidence of their cooperation with the demons? And it may not have been Semjaza himself.”
The Speaker drew in a breath, then exhaled slowly. “The Pri-Rada is aware of this. But you are ordered to return. Rest assured, Fer-Rada, that alternate plans are underway. Nothing goes unseen from the gaze of the Holy One.”
“Indeed,” Danduel replied quickly, bowing his head immediately in submission. “We will return at once.”