“Dar ar din Pri-Rada?” Semjaza asked. His mouth was curled up into a deadly grin.
The muscles along the Speaker’s jaw flexed while he backed slowly away in a hunched position. He replied to Semjaza’s question with his hands out to his sides.
Enoch wished desperately that he knew their language so he could understand what was happening.
Semjaza’s response sounded cold. He moved a few paces forward, his bladed spear now within striking distance.
The Speaker took one quick step backward and held up one hand in front of himself, pleading with narrowed eyes. His voice was thick with desperation.”
Suddenly, the night sky overhead grew darker as large sections of the stars were blotted out.
Enoch’s escort quickly let go of him and burst into the air with a powerful rush of wind.
Enoch dropped lower onto his stomach. From between the blades of grass, he saw sparks shoot outward from the Speaker’s escorts as they tried to change form. Only a few managed to take to the air just as a swarm of dark shapes fell upon them from the sky above. In the moonlight, the grassy expanse erupted with movement as Semjaza’s ground soldiers closed in. Arms flailed and wings beat erratically. Harsh grunts and screams cut through the night air. With his tiny frame hidden by the tall vegetation, Enoch watched in horror as the Speaker’s escorts fell from the sky around him, their limp bodies jolting abruptly when they hit the ground. Everywhere he looked, he saw another image that was more frightening than the last. One of the Speaker’s soldiers broke through the fray, but immediately arched his back as a spear came through his chest. Enoch flinched as he watched the soldier pitch forward and land only feet away from where he hid.
And then silence covered everything.
Rising slightly, Enoch parted the grass.
The Speaker was on the ground, trying to crawl backwards away from Semjaza who stood over him. His face and chest were covered in lacerations.
Two of Semjaza’s ground soldiers stood on each of the Speaker’s arms, pinning him to the ground while the tips of their spears hovered near his face.
Someone handed Semjaza a weapon with a long handle on one end and a wide blade on the other. Semjaza took it, keeping his gaze fixed on his enemy. Without warning he swung the blade downward where it landed with a sickening thud.
The Speaker screamed in agony and flailed violently, now only held down by his one remaining arm. The other, severed from his body, lay still in the grass.
Enoch clasped a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming. He’d never seen anything so violent and grotesque in all his years upon the earth. As the tears poured from his eyes, he wished that the Holy One would end this madness.
The Speaker’s screams eventually lessened into moans of pain, and then silence altogether.
Semjaza stood calmly over the wounded angel, smiling. He spoke again in the same unintelligible language, then glanced back to his soldiers.
The Speaker looked up with tears streaming down his face. His final words were barely above a whisper.
Semjaza nodded and his ground soldier stepped off the Speaker’s arm.
Slowly, the grass, the dark sky, and the stars along the horizon appeared to bend inward toward the Speaker. Then he was gone.
CHAPTER 11
BAHYITH
Sariel sat across from Sheyir’s father and the other Chatsiyr elders. It was now dusk and the whole tribe had gathered again at the place of meeting following the meal. Sariel had put off his explanation as long as possible and was now ready to disclose what he had discovered.
“In Arar Gahiy, on the north end of Armayim, I found the remains of men from another tribe. They had been dead for quite some time.”
The elder’s posture straightened as he glanced quickly to the men near him. “This can’t be. For generations, we have had an understanding with the People of the Trees. We do not leave the land between the mountains and they do not come into our land.”
“Nevertheless, I found them there at the edge of the water. Among the bones I also found a small, graven image.”
The elder’s forehead wrinkled.
How do I describe this to them? “Like the flowers and leaves that you wear on your bodies, but this object was made by hands, and did not grow from the ground.”
The elder pushed his lips together and stared at the ground.
Sariel waited until it seemed that his words were understood. “This thing is owned by someone, just as you own or possess this land. This graven image carries with it an evil spirit.”
“This is not true!” Sheyir’s father replied quickly.
Sariel took a breath and sighed in frustration. Taking a moment to choose his words carefully, he tried again. “The People of the Grass,” Sariel started slowly, interpreting the name of the Chatsiyr tribe, “know that there is another world beyond this one.”
Sheyir’s father nodded slowly.
“In this other world, spirits live.”
Again, he nodded.
“Sometimes,” Sariel continued, “these spirits come into this world.”
“Yes. They live inside some animals and cause them to kill others.”
Sariel looked up to the sky that was growing darker with every second. This concept was incredibly vast and difficult to explain with such a limited vocabulary as theirs, or to a people whose only interaction with the Eternal Realm was the occasional possession of an animal by a demon. Technically, it didn’t happen often. But the Chatsiyram were herbivores trying to make sense of the brutality of the animals around them. He decided to let the elder’s comments pass. At least the man was following his logic up to this point.
“This object was crafted to defy the laws governing the interaction of these two worlds. It was crafted to deceive men. Whoever possesses this object unknowingly allows the evil spirit to live inside him.”
At this, the elder’s eyebrows lifted. “How can you know this?”
“My dathrah has shown this to me.”
“This is a powerful dathrah,” the elder replied.
“Yes,” Sariel answered with a nod.
“How did you get this dathrah?” he asked, going back to the same conversation they had at their first meeting.
“We have all been given different abilities; this is the one I have been given,” Sariel answered quickly, trying to get the conversation back on course. “I have also been to see the man with sickness. I saw three evil spirits that live inside him. I believe he took one of the graven images from the lake, and then took two from the other sick men who were with him. These spirits were not meant to live in this world,” he paused, noting the irony of his own situation.
“They are angry at being confined to his body, yet they do not have authority to go anywhere else. They move about in a manner that they are accustomed to, but his body does not move as theirs. They care not for food or other things that we find necessary. They think different thoughts and speak with different words. This is why he is starved and injured. This is why he yells and moans like an animal. This is why he appears to be sick.”
The elder sat back and looked down at the dirt, perhaps trying to comprehend Sariel’s explanation or else make it fit with what he already believed. Finally, he spoke. “Can he be helped?”
Sariel smiled. “Yes, I believe he can. But I will need everyone in this village to participate.”
The elder looked to his brothers and received nods of affirmation. “We will help,” he replied. “Then you will tell me more about this other world.”
Sariel agreed with a slight nod.
* * * *
HARAGDEH*
Enoch stood in the knee-deep grass looking down at the Speaker’s severed arm. In the pale light emerging from the eastern sky, he could see splatters of blood everywhere. Bodies were strewn across the ground; some whole and some in pieces. Every time he looked at one of their expressions, whether twisted into grimaces of torture, or resting with the peacefulness of sleep, all he could see we
re Zacol and Methu. As if their beautiful faces were somehow attached to the lifeless bodies of the Speaker’s angels. Despite the silence, only broken by the occasional whisper of wind passing over plains, Enoch’s heart was racing. The two people he loved more than life itself were far beyond the southwestern horizon, with no one to protect them.
A faint rustle in the grass behind suddenly jolted him from his stupor. Turning quickly, he saw the dissolving form of a massive wolf, accompanied by dozens of other creatures. With heavy eyes, he blinked slowly, wishing that he was at home with his family. When his eyes opened again, the tall, graceful creatures around him were closer than expected, as if he’d slept in that instant.
“What happened here?” Ananel asked softly.
Enoch opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he looked up at the angel.
Ananel stared down at Enoch, while the others moved about the field, pointing, kneeling, and whispering to each other.
“I … can’t … can’t understand what they said,” he managed.
Ananel knelt and cautiously placed his hand on Enoch’s shoulder. “If you will permit me to look through your eyes, I will reveal it to you.”
Enoch nodded, not even understanding what he was agreeing to.
Ananel closed his eyes.
Everything was dark except a sliver of night sky and road visible through the crevice to the left. Semjaza’s Iryllurym flew past the opening, followed by the marching Anduarym.
Suddenly, Enoch was flying. The mountains passed beneath his feet. The rough terrain slowly turned to smooth fields. The massive arm across his chest, held him securely in the air.
Enoch’s feet touched the solid earth again, and he felt his body gently lowered to the grass.
“Where is your Pri-Rada?” Semjaza asked, though the grin on his face said he already knew the answer.
The Speaker backed away slowly. His body was tense with the anticipation of violence, but he held his hands out to either side in a gesture of submission. “Unlike you and your treacherous ways, my Pri-Rada expected a civil meeting. He sent only a small delegation.”
“Then he is an incompetent fool,” Semjaza replied, advancing with his vandrekt in a ready position.
The Speaker jumped back suddenly as he realized that Semjaza wasn’t simply trying to intimidate him—he was going to attack. In a desperate, but pointless act, the Speaker put his hand up as if it would protect him. “Are you so foolish as to attack the Amatru? It would be an act of war!”
The stars were darkened as the formation of Iryllurym dove from the sky.
The Speaker’s escorts began to shape into flying angels, but only a few made it off the ground and even their efforts were wasted. The blades of the Iryllurym cut through their unguarded flesh with deadly precision.
Enoch flinched in horror.
Semjaza lunged forward and thrust his vandrekt into the Speaker’s shoulder. The pain distracted the angel and kept him from shifting.
All around, the Anduarym attacked the unarmed escorts. Most were impaled where they stood.
One ran straight for Enoch. His body suddenly straightened, then arched backward.
Enoch flinched.
The escort dropped forward to the grass.
Enoch was frozen with fear. He kept his head down for a moment until the grunts and screams eventually died down to silence.
The Speaker was on the ground. He’d been stabbed multiple times in the torso, but none of the wounds were fatal. Blood poured down his face from a laceration high on his head. It was obvious that Semjaza was only toying with him.
Two Anduarym stood on the Speaker’s arms, pinning him to the ground.
Semjaza accepted a svvard from one of his ground soldiers. His gaze remained fixed on the speaker as he brought the blade suddenly downward. The sharpened metal cut through skin and bone in one movement, until it lay embedded in the soil.
The Speaker screamed in agony and writhed on the ground.
The larger and stronger Anduar who stood on his remaining arm had to bring all of his weight to bear in order to contain the flailing angel.
Then, in a bold act of courage, the Speaker silenced himself. Though his pain must have been unbearable, he refused to allow Semjaza to take pleasure in his suffering.
Semjaza leaned over him. “Go back to your world and tell Ganisheel that this is my realm. I consider his presence here to be an act of war. If I even hear a rumor of the Amatru coming here again, I’ll bring the war to him. And he has no idea what I’m capable of or what I have at my disposal.”
Semjaza looked away briefly to revel in the strength of the soldiers at his command. Then he turned back to the Speaker. “If he persists, I’ll show him the depth of his incompetence.”
The Speaker tried to compose himself, staring defiantly into Semjaza’s eyes. But his body was weaker than his spirit. Tears fell from his eyes and blood poured from the stump where his arm used to be. “You can’t come back from this,” he whispered.
Semjaza nodded, and his Anduarym released the Speaker.
Without hesitation, the angel shifted into the Eternal Realm.
Ananel removed his hand from Enoch’s shoulder.
Suddenly, it was morning again and the other Myndarym were now gathered around Ananel. “Semjaza used the prophet to stall and distract the Speaker while he gathered his army. They slew the delegation, in direct violation of the terms of peace which govern such a meeting.”
“Why would he react so rashly?” someone asked.
Ananel turned. “He seemed offended when we talked in the throne room—that the Holy One sent a prophet to us, but an army to him. This was a show of force. He sent the Speaker away with a warning for his Pri-Rada to never enter this realm again.”
Upon hearing Ananel’s summary, some of the Myndarym expressed disbelief, others disapproval. Still others kept silent.
“Isn’t this what he was supposed to do? To protect us, if necessary?” someone asked.
“He wasn’t protecting us,” someone else countered.
“The Amatru were never supposed to know about us,” another offered.
“He’s declared war on the Amatru!”
Ananel held up his hands. “Please. Please,” he stated, bringing the group to silence. “We all feared this day would eventually come. Semjaza has betrayed his end of our agreement. All of this is proof that he was incapable of keeping things quiet.”
“What about him,” someone asked.
Suddenly, all eyes were on Enoch.
Ananel spoke quietly. “I had hoped that you could all hear his message for yourselves. But I don’t think that matters anymore. Semjaza has just sealed our fate. The Amatru will hold us partially responsible for what happened here.”
“Can’t we send someone to plead for us?” Make amends?”
Ananel shook his head. “I doubt they’ll be willing to discuss anything after such an egregious violation.”
“What are we to do then?”
Silence followed. Enoch suddenly felt very small and insignificant—nothing more than an unwelcomed visitor.
“We’ve all felt this change coming,” Ananel continued. “I, for one, expected it to come sooner than this day. Nevertheless, it’s here. And now we have a choice to make. Either we submit to Semjaza’s rule and give up our hopes of attaining freedom, or we go our own way. Right now!”
“But he’ll come looking for us,” someone said.
“Where would we go?” another asked.
Ananel nodded slowly, with a determined look in his eyes. “Wherever we want. This is our land, even more than it is his. And he’s going to be busy preparing for war.”
A breeze had picked up and was causing the blades of grass to wave in unison. The curling mist drifting over the plains seemed to emphasize the silence that had fallen on the group.
One by one, the Myndarym began to go their separate ways. Without another word, Ananel shaped into his animal form and set off to
the north with most of the Myndarym following him. Within seconds, Enoch found himself standing alone on a battlefield, surrounded by the corpses of slain angels.
* * * *
BAHYITH
“But men don’t sing,” the elder argued.
Not in this tribe they don’t, Sariel thought. “The women do.”
“Yes. And my youngest daughter is the most talented.”
The recognition of Sheyir’s ability seemed awkward in his mouth. It was probably the only time he’d ever expressed anything resembling pride or even approval of a female in his tribe. Sariel wondered if he’d even heard Sheyir sing, or was his proclamation based on second-hand information?
“Alright. Then I’ll need the men to move to one side, and the women to the other.”
The elder turned to the rest of the tribe gathered around the uncovered meeting area at the center of the village. He gave the order and they split and reassembled as instructed—with the men now on the west side of the clearing; the women on the east.
“If you’re willing, this would be easier if you gave me authority to instruct them myself,” Sariel suggested.
The elder’s eyebrows dropped, but relaxed after a moment of hesitation. “Everyone will obey the visitor until I say otherwise,” he told the crowd.
“Thank you,” Sariel said. “Now, will all the women please step forward and assemble into one line.” He waited for them to follow his command, then walked to Sheyir at the front of the line. “I want you to sing the same sounds as I do.”
Sheyir nodded.
Sariel sang one note, then waited as Sheyir mimicked it perfectly.
Sariel then sang two notes at a higher pitch.
Again, Sheyir repeated the sounds.
“Good. Now a simple melody,” Sariel responded, singing several notes in a series, alternating up and down.
Sheyir mimicked it effortlessly.