Enoch leaned against a tree, breathing heavily after cresting a hill. It was now late in the afternoon, but the shade of the forest kept the air cool. As his heart slowed to a comfortable pace, he began to look around him and take in the view. The ridge on which he stood looked to be the southernmost of a chain of peaks that grew in height as they extended to the north. Each peak protruded from the low-lying mist like islands from water.
After leaving Haragdeh, the Fields of Slaughter as he would remember them, Enoch reverted to the habit that had been formed during his long journey from Sedekiyr. He awoke, gathered food, ate, and looked for shelter. Every day, he asked the Holy One for guidance and listened carefully. And day after day, he received some sign or message that confirmed his purpose—to find the Myndarym. But direction continued to be a source of confusion.
Weeks later, he reached a narrow strip of land between two bodies of water. After crossing this, he spent the next week and a half exploring a parcel of land that was surrounded by water and attached to the mainland on three sides by land bridges. This place, he named Sahveyim. After crossing the western land bridge, Enoch wandered along the shore of what he called the Great Waters, for they seemed to have no end. Eventually leaving the shore, he continued north as it passed from sight into the east. Gradually, the flat terrain began to steepen until he reached the chain of mountain peaks where he now stood.*
Throughout his journey, with plenty of time to meditate on the events he witnessed at Mudena Del-Edha, Enoch realized that Semjaza and his soldiers were not Myndarym. They never changed their forms. They moved and even spoke with more confidence. Perhaps pride or arrogance. But they seemed altogether graceless and inelegant compared to the Myndarym. Enoch could still hear the complexity of Ananel’s voice and see the way he moved across the land. He was agile even when not in his animal form.
If Enoch’s message was only for the Myndarym, then the Holy One would deal separately with Semjaza. This realization lifted a weight from Enoch’s shoulders and focused his thoughts once again on the ones who shape creation. Though the Myndarym weren’t part of Semjaza’s open defiance, they still held themselves partially responsible for what happened to the Speaker and his escorts.
Wait. That’s not true. They don’t hold themselves responsible at all. They believe that the armies of Heaven will hold them responsible. And that is not repentance. That’s fear of judgment.
Now Enoch saw the challenge in his mission. These magnificent creatures were still in defiance, but theirs was different from Semjaza’s. Theirs was inward. The kind that causes them to lie to themselves.
Denial!
This kind of defiance was far more difficult to correct. Enoch was sure of this, for it was the same problem that he’d been battling among his own tribe for years. The Shayeth were a stubborn people who had lost their knowledge of the Holy One. After years of concerning themselves with only what they could see and touch and taste, their willful ignorance of the unseen had become their way of life. Now Enoch realized why he had been chosen to speak to the Myndarym.
Holy One. Your thoughts are high above mine. After all this time, I finally see a glimpse of what You have been preparing me for. And may You also use this task to teach me something that I can carry back to my people. Show me how to open their stubborn hearts.
Just as his thoughts turned to the Shayeth, he pictured Zacol and Methu. Tears came instantly to his eyes as he thought about them, alone, living on the outskirts of Sedekiyr, treated as people who were barely tolerable. It was Enoch’s fault that they would never have a normal life. They were forced to live with the consequences of Enoch’s choices. And now, he wasn’t even there to help them.
Suddenly, Enoch felt his stomach tighten and his skin became sensitive.
Is it my family? Holy One, are you telling me something about them? Please protect them and provide for them.
Enoch now felt an overwhelming sense that something was watching him. He turned quickly, but the forest was still and silent.
No predators!
He looked to the sky.
No flying creatures!
Just as he exhaled in relief, he noticed something through the trees. His throat tightened at the same time his heart began to beat loudly.
In the shadows of a rock outcropping, a massive figure of hair and teeth blended almost perfectly with the surroundings.
Enoch held his breath, unable to even scream. Then a flicker of recognition brought an abrupt end to his fear.
The wolfen form stepped silently from the rocks. The creature whose back stood several feet taller than Enoch’s head began to shimmer. Its coarse, gray fur dissolved into tiny strands of light which grew in intensity, expanding until they broke apart into millions of sparks. Quickly, they reassembled into the silhouette of a human, two times taller than Enoch. As the shimmering faded, the recognizable face of Ananel remained.
“How did you find us, Prophet?” the Myndar asked in a soft, yet powerful voice.
Enoch felt a surge of exhaustion, then relief in the aftermath of the fear. He inhaled deeply. “It was the Holy One.” All of a sudden, Enoch realized that Ananel had spoken in the angelic language. And he had understood the words, and replied in the same language.
How can I …? Oh! That’s what he did to me at Haragdeh, when he saw through my eyes!
Ananel’s eyebrows narrowed. “Do you have another message for us?”
Enoch pushed himself away from the tree and stood straightened. “No. The same message.”
Ananel made a low noise in his throat, like a growl, but quieter. “Your presence here is troubling.”
Enoch remained silent.
“Very well. Come with me. I’ll take you to the others,” the angel replied. Again, his body began to shimmer as he shaped himself back into an animal. When he was finished, he crouched low to the ground.
Enoch recognized the cue and climbed onto his back. Within minutes, they had descended the hilltop and entered the misty forest below. Even at Ananel’s easy pace, he still managed to cover incredible distance compared to Enoch’s slow wanderings. Quickly settling into the rhythm of Ananel’s trot, Enoch’s mind began to wander. His thoughts returned to the differences he had noted between Ananel and Semjaza.
“This thing you do—changing into an animal; can all angels do this?”
“No,” Ananel replied. “But the Myndarym can.” There was hint of amusement in his voice.
“Semjaza and his followers had different forms, some with wings. Are they Myndar, as well?”
Ananel chuckled now. “No. But I will forgive the insult because of your ignorance.”
Even though he already suspected the answer, Enoch still felt embarrassed. “What are they?”
“The winged ones are called Iryllurym. Semjaza and the others without wings are called Anduarym. And there is also a third kind under his rule. They are called Vidirym. They live and move beneath the water.”
“Hmm,” Enoch mumbled. After a moment of silence, he worked up the courage to ask the question that had been running through his mind since that fearful day in the Haragdeh. “Why did they attack the Speaker and his angels?”
“It seems a rash move, I know. But Semjaza is no fool. There is strategy in everything he does.”
“Oh. Um. What I meant was, I don’t even understand the reason for their conflict.”
“Ah. I see,” Ananel said, gracefully side-stepping a tree. “Semjaza is a soldier. He was a Pri-Rada in the Saman. In your tongue, that would be Third Rule of Joint Operations, which is like an elder who is in authority over men who fight with other tribes. When he came to this world, he did so in violation of the laws that govern our kind. Not only is his presence here forbidden, but to establish his own kingdom in this realm is willful disobedience of the highest order. The Speaker came to make it evident that the other elders are aware of what Semjaza is doing here.”
Enoch noted the hypocrisy in Ananel’s explanation, but decided not to speak of it yet
. “But wouldn’t his actions only anger the elders even further?”
“Perhaps. But Semjaza knows that they are too busy fighting other wars. So he sent a very clear message. He will not go without a fight. And that fight will be costly to the elders.”
“Is there much fighting where you come from?” he asked the angel.
“Yes. It has been that way from the beginning.”
Enoch paused for a moment, trying to make sense of all that he heard. Watching the trees pass by in the afternoon light, he was struck with the beauty of his own world. Yet, somewhere invisible to his eyes was another realm that sounded both amazing and sad at the same time. When these thoughts passed, Enoch decided it was time.
“And what about you? If you know it is forbidden to be here, why did you come?”
Ananel didn’t answer right away. In fact, Enoch wondered whether or not he had heard the question. But Ananel’s canine ears seemed capable of hearing much more than his own, so he remained quiet.
“The Myndarym are not soldiers,” he said finally. “We are … Do you have people among your tribe who make things—craftsmen, builders, and such?”
“Yes,” Enoch replied, amused at the thought of an angel of heaven trying hard to relate his world to that of a human.
“And do you have people among your tribe who make things, not just to be used, but simply for the pleasure of others?”
Enoch thought hard to find the equivalent among the Shayetham. “Sometimes, my wife puts flowers in her hair. There is no purpose in this other than to give me pleasure when I look at her.”
“Yes,” Ananel replied. “Among the Myndarym, we build many things, including those which only serve to give pleasure. In this way, we understand your world and your kind far better than Semjaza and his soldiers ever will. But a short while ago, at least by our accounting of time, some of us were placed under his leadership.”
“I see,” Enoch replied. The sun was almost set now and he wondered how Ananel could see where he was going. “How far must we travel before we reach the others?”
“We’re nearly there now,” he replied.
Enoch couldn’t see anything ahead, but trusted that Ananel told the truth. “So, is your disagreement with Semjaza due to your different tribes?” Enoch asked, trying to make sense of the conversations and actions he’d witnessed.
“I suppose that is one way to explain it. It is not only our tribes, as you say, but our very natures. The Myndarym see the beauty in creation. We enjoy making new things and fixing things that are broken. We take pleasure in seeing and knowing how something is constructed. Soldiers tend to see things differently. I suppose it is to be expected, but Semjaza and his angels have learned to see creation in terms of leverage, in terms of power.”
“What do you mean?” Enoch asked, embarrassed again that he was unfamiliar with these terms.
“All of Semjaza’s relationships to others have been defined by authority. Who has authority over me? Over whom do I have authority? And because of their purpose, their relationship to the enemy is defined by the power to fight. Who is more powerful than I? Whom can I conquer? These are the questions they ask themselves.”
“And the Myndarym resent his authority?” Enoch asked.
“Yes.” Ananel leaped effortlessly up a short bank of rocks.
“Because he misuses it?” Enoch probed further.
“We are here,” Ananel announced, abruptly ending the conversation.
The trees opened to reveal a shallow, wide valley in the western foothills of the mountains that they’d been paralleling. A gentle river wound its way from the higher elevation and emptied into a larger body of water to the west. In the fading light, Enoch could barely make out a tall forest of trees that seemed unnatural among the otherwise grassy valley.
A moment later, Ananel’s long strides brought them close to the forest and Enoch realized that it was no ordinary stand of trees. These reached higher into the air than any others he’d ever seen. And what appeared unnatural from afar was now simply breathtaking. The trunks and limbs were intertwined with each other, as if they were threads making up a cloth. But there were no signs of splintering or breakage among the branches. It was as if they had grown this way from seedlings. Above the towering wall of interwoven branches, the upper portion of the forest was thick with leaves and flowering blossoms. It was the most beautiful thing Enoch had ever seen.
“It has only been a few months and already you’ve created this?” he asked in amazement.
“As I said, we are builders.”
As he stared, a question came to Enoch’s mind and he couldn’t resist asking it. Though he already knew the answer, he wanted Ananel to ponder it further. “You said my presence here troubles you. Why?”
Ananel stopped and crouched low, while Enoch climbed to the ground.
Shaping to his angelic form, Ananel continued toward a doorway formed by the meeting of two arched tree trunks. Moving now on two legs, he looked back at Enoch without stopping.
“This is what we must discuss in the presence of the Myndarym. Come with me.”
~
Since leaving Sedekiyr, each day had brought Enoch something different. Whether it was new food to eat, large and vicious creatures, or dangerous tribes of people, each new experience forced him to adapt. But this moment was different. Instead of danger or fear of something new, he took pleasure in everything his eyes set upon. The inside of the Myndar city was even more extraordinary than the outside. The bending and weaving of trees was a theme throughout, only now he walked through the beautiful complexity, beneath covered passages that led from one gigantic room to another. The ceilings seemed impossibly high, and were thatched so tightly that neither the stars nor the moon shone through. But this didn’t impede travel through the city, for the interior was illuminated by the glowing stalks of some unknown vines that wove through the other structures. In his mind, he named it Aragatsiyr, City of Woven Trees.
Ananel led Enoch to the uncovered center of the city where a gentle pool of water was gathered, fed by a diverted stream from the nearby river. Everywhere Enoch looked he saw such extraordinary sights that his mind reeled from the effort of comprehension. Those things that he did understand caused him to think of how to incorporate them into his village. Slowly, the growing presence of Myndarym entering the uncovered area from passages around the perimeter and their skeptical stares, began to erode his fascination. Finally, a powerful voice cut through the murmur of the crowd.
“Fellow Myndarym. Once again I bring to you Enoch of the Shayetham.”
Now the murmur rose to a din as the other angels expressed their confusion about the presence of a human within their city.
“I found him standing on a ridge to the south of our city. He apparently found his way here through no means other than direction from the Holy One.”
“Did you bring us another message?” someone asked.
“No,” Ananel answered quickly, before Enoch could say anything. “He brings the same message, but now that we are free of the complications of Semjaza, we will hear him.”
In the awkward silence, Enoch looked around at the surrounding faces and recognized some of them from months ago. But now he felt better-equipped to understand what he saw and noticed more details. All of them were large, but thinner and less muscular than Semjaza’s soldiers. He saw a variety of skin and hair color, vibrant and diverse compared to humans. Blues and greens, oranges and yellows. Eyes brighter than the color of flowers. Their graceful beauty was beyond anything he’d ever witnessed. And most surprising was the presence of several who appeared to be female. The perfect shape of their faces made Enoch stare in disbelief. Their long, flowing hair seemed to move as if blown by the wind, though the air was perfectly still. Beneath their loose flowing clothing, Enoch caught brief glimpses of their outlines as they moved, sending shivers through his body that made him blush. Immediately, he thought of Zacol and Methu and closed his eyes in shame, trying to shut out the vi
sions of perfection before him. He wondered if these magnificent creatures ever married and had families of their own.
When he opened his eyes again, the Myndarym were assembled around the perimeter of the meeting area. Enoch felt their perceiving gaze staring into his very spirit.
“Enoch of the Shayetham,” one of the women began.
Enoch immediately averted his eyes to keep from being distracted.
“You must know that Semjaza lied to us.”
Her voice seemed to soothe every part of him, washing away months of exhaustion. He took a slow breath and tried to compose himself. “This is what I’ve heard, but I do not understand the nature of your relationship with him.”
The voice of another joined the conversation, this one decidedly male. “We all wished to live in the Temporal Realm. He offered us a way to come in secret in exchange for our help. But now the Amatru know we’re here. And we will be held responsible for what Semjaza has done.”
Again, Enoch heard the shifting of blame to Semjaza, but there was clearly more to the situation than what they were revealing. When he looked out across the faces in the crowd, he found pleading, distraught looks. “Please. I am merely a human who listens for the voice of the Holy One,” he begged in return. “I know very little of your world or the things you’ve done. I don’t wish to show you disrespect, but I don’t understand what you are telling me. Please make your speech plain so that I may understand and answer you accordingly.”
Ananel stepped forward from his place beside Enoch. “I have a suggestion. This Prophet has told me that the Holy One gives him visions.”
Immediately, a look of understanding crossed the faces staring at Enoch. Again, he seemed to be the only one who was confused.
“Perhaps even the angelic language of this realm is insufficient.”
Enoch shrugged his shoulders, unsure if he was supposed to respond.
Ananel knelt down and looked Enoch directly in the eye. “Would you allow us to speak to you in another way, and to make that way known to you?”
“I … Yes, I suppose,” Enoch replied cautiously. “Like the language we are using now?”
“No,” the angel replied with a reassuring smile. “This other way is quite different.”
Enoch nodded.