*
'Ya!' Jakob cried, kicking his horse. If he could just make it into the woods, he might have a chance.
Dark shadows fell and Jakob was forced to acknowledge that he'd lost the opportunity. Unless, of course . . . Jakob threw himself from the animal and tumbled along the ground as Noah's clawed toes closed around the saddle and the giant demon lifted the animal into the air. He tossed it aside a moment later. Jakob pitied the horse, as all four legs were broken on impact.
After diving into the woods, Jakob sprinted through the trees, ignoring small branches as they whipped at his face and bit at his arms. Beating wings filled his ears and the leaves fell away from the trees to spiral about in gusts. Demons crashed down around him, no doubt with Noah observing from above.
'Cease.'
A legion soldier leapt forward and placed a blade at Jakob's throat. He leapt back and spun around, but a second soldier swooped in to block him. He was surrounded.
There was a heavy thud behind him and Jakob closed his eyes in recognition of who it was. 'Well, well, well,' Noah rumbled. 'You wouldn't have been making a dash for freedom would you, Jakob?'
'Not at all.' Jakob turned to face his pursuer with a forced smile. 'My horse needed the exercise.'
'Don't insult my intelligence,' Noah boomed furiously, backhanding Jakob's face with such force that it nearly dislocated his jaw. 'Once a Sa'Tanist, always a Sa'Tanist,' Noah growled. 'You know that.'
'Sorry, Noah,' Jakob moaned, immediately regretting his mistake.
'My name is Sa'Tan,' Noah bellowed, again beating the side of Jakob's head so that stars danced across his vision. 'Why have you failed me? Why have I been left waiting to taste the flesh of the traitor?'
'I couldn't lure him out of Elmsville,' Jakob sobbed, knowing well the punishment for failure.
'What a shame,' Noah smiled malevolently.
'Please,' Jakob sobbed, using his sleeve to wipe snot from his nose. 'Don't kill me!'
'Oh, I will kill you.' Noah glared at him 'The question is as to whether or not I should give you a second chance to do as I asked.'
'What?' Jakob shook his head in confusion.
'Kill him,' Noah called over his shoulder. 'Make it slow. Be sure he suffers immensely, then resurrect him and break his arm.'
'My arm?' Jakob murmured, scarcely able to control his bodily shaking enough to remain on his feet.
'Yes,' Noah sneered. 'In case you try to run away again. You'll be slower with a broken arm.' He turned to his men. 'I must return to Abnatol. There is a feast waiting for me; twenty-five human children.' He winked at Jakob's shocked expression. 'It will be divine,' Noah finished, leaping through the trees and disappearing to the north.
'Please,' Jakob took a step back as the demons closed in raising weapons. 'Don't do this. Just break my arm and we can pretend like all the rest happened.'
'Sorry, son,' the closest legion soldier replied, his eyes revealing sincerity. 'It turns my stomach to do this, but you have no idea what he's capable of. If he ever found out we'd disobeyed his orders, he'd kill us, too.'
'Please,' Jakob begged, falling back against a tree.
'I'll make it quick,' the demon whispered. 'That's as much as I can offer.'
'Okay,' Jakob inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. There was a gunshot and Jakob's leg buckled. His eyes burst open to see that his knee had been shattered. He screamed in pain as the act was repeated on his other leg. A knife was stabbed through his stomach and quickly removed.
'I think that counts as suffering enough,' the leading silt said apologetically before plunging his knife into Jakob's throat. Blood gushed and Jakob died.
His eyes opened. Someone took Jakob's arm and he screamed as the bone was snapped. 'It's done.' The demon's voice shook. 'It's all right,' he cooed. 'It's done now. It's over.' Jakob allowed the silt to help him to his feet while he nursed his arm protectively. 'Here,' he tore apart his own shirt to make Jakob a sling.
'Thank you,' he managed to say.
'Just go,' the silt replied with desperate eyes. 'Find Enoch and bring him to Narvon Wood. If you value your life you'll ignore your conscience and just do it. You want to live, don't you?'
'Yes,' Jakob blubbered like a child.
'Then just do it and be done with it,' the soldier urged. 'Enoch is just one man. Take your life back.'
'Life?' Jakob looked him in the eye. 'What kind of life is left for any of us?'
The question remained unanswered as the demons ascended, leaving him alone in the small patch of woods north of Elmsville. Jakob turned slowly, ignoring the pain in his arm. He put one foot in front of the other, only to fall down coughing and gagging up a wretched black mist that he'd come to know too well.
*
The whisp withdrew from the human named Jakob and persisted through the southern sky. Its target was in the distance, where soon it would make its presence known. There was nothing malicious about a whisp carrying out its duties. If anything at all, it was purely mathematical. People often forgot that whisps were life-givers as much as they were takers. This particular whisp merely sought compensation for the fact of its insemination, even if it intended on doing so by the most effective means possible.
This was not the kind of whisp to spend time seeking out a particular target and bring death to that one insignificant individual. No, Jakob's whisp wanted to make a difference in the world and knew it could never do so on its own, so instead it churned toward the billions of kindred whisps in the sky above. Too many had been lazy, gathering together as a mighty cloud rather than doing what they were supposed to do. Together they could cause true destruction. Together they would seek compensation for countless other good deeds yet to be repaid.
The black mist sank into the greater cloud, its darkness merging and becoming one with theirs. With the adoption of just one more, the weight and density became too much. A billion whisps moaned harmoniously and thunder tore up the sky. Lightning snaked toward the earth. And soon the rain would fall.
2 Peter 2
11. Whereas demons, which are greater in power and might, bring not railing accusation against them before the Lord.
12-14. These whisps, as unnatural brute beasts, made to be taken and destroyed, speak evil of the things that they understand not, and shall utterly perish in their own corruption, and shall receive the reward of unrighteousness, as those who count it pleasure to revel in the daytime. Spots they are and blemishes, sporting themselves with their own deceptions while they feast on you, having thoughts full of adultery and who cannot cease from sin, beguiling unstable whispers of evil; their ways are exercised with covetous practices; from the accursed children!
15-16. Demons have forsaken the right way and have gone astray, following the ways of Sa'Tan, who loved the wages of unrighteousness, but was rebuked for his iniquity: the fool speaking with a man's voice forbad the madness of the prophet.
17. These black clouds are without water, clouds that are carried by a tempest, for whom the mist of darkness is reserved forever.
18. For when they speak great swelling words of vanity, they allure through the lusts of the flesh and through much wantonness those who had clean escaped from those who live in error.
19. While they promise life, they themselves are the servants of corruption; for by whom a man is overcome, by the same is he brought into bondage.
Scriptures of the Holy Tome
CHAPTER Twenty-One
exodus
To my dear husband Gez-reil,
I'm writing to inform you of terrible news. The people have lost their faith in the elders. This is true for none more so than Far-a-mael. I've heard rumours from the First Cleff to as far as the eighth. Some say he's lost his mind. Others claim he's been possessed by a whisp or some other such unfortunate calamity. Myself? I am of the belief, as you are aware from private conversation, that Far-a-mael is quite simply a malicious, egotistical madman that'll stop at nothing to satisfy his rather peculiar sense
of justice.
I hope you will forgive my language. I know well that you were very close as children and young men. And of course I respect your judgement as always, but I fear for your life and wish you would take every precaution. You cannot trust him anymore. If you doubt this, you need only dwell on his treatment of poor El-i-miir. Maker knows the girl is probably dead. Need I bring up Jil-e-an's daughter, the Eltari girl? His treatment of her was inhumane to say the least.
I apologise, for I digress. I did not intend for the focus of this letter to be toward the war elder. My intention was to notify you of the dire situation taking place here in the Frozen Lands. Far-a-mael has ruined us. More than half of the gils we once had are now dead. The hadoans have been reduced to such a small number that I dare not dwell on it for fear of becoming too upset to continue writing. And now Far-a-mael has taken the strongest of you and abandoned us here with the silt invasion so close.
Again, I digress. Perhaps I fear your reaction. Maybe I don't want your heart to suffer the same ache as mine. Gez-reil, I suppose I must tell you that everyone is leaving. The cleffs have fallen silent. I cannot reach any of my friends by letter and I'm beginning to doubt I'll reach even you. Everyone is so scared. With the future so bleak it's nearly impossible to keep a positive outlook.
Just last week I received word that Em-a-ra and her family have moved to Sat Effin after hearing rumours, just rumours, that the Riverenders are still standing strong against the invasion. I weep in the knowledge that once proud Elglair are seeking refuge among outlanders. It breaks my heart, Gez-reil. I went outside yesterday and cried out in the hope that anyone might hear me, but I fear I'm the only one left in the cleff. Even as I put pen to paper I'm unable to believe the words I am writing.
Please come home, Gez-reil, so that we too may run away before this madman destroys us all.
All my love,
Hes-la-tie
Gez-reil's hand shook as he put down the letter and wiped his forehead, which had come to be covered in sweat. He stared at the papery skin on the back of his steadily aging hand where it rested atop Hes-la-tie's letter. 'What has come of us?' he asked nobody with a shuddering voice.
Flickering lantern light stole his attention. Gez-reil was quick in using his Holy Tome to squash the moth responsible for the dancing shadows. 'I don't need you spying on me in my own tent,' Gez-reil murmured as he removed the book to ensure the moth's demise.
'Gez-reil,' Far-a-mael's voice entered before the man himself.
'Yes?' Gez-reil replied loudly. He scrunched up Hes-la-tie's letter and shoved it in his pocket.
'I've already read it,' Far-a-mael smirked, his eyes turning to the squashed moth on Gez-reil's desk. 'There's more than one of me you know.' He opened his arms and Gez-reil recoiled at the sudden increase of flying insects. 'Fear not.' Far-a-mael's expression softened. 'I have no qualms with Hes-la-tie. She is a dear woman and I'm certain that one day she will understand the significance of these perilous times.'
'The people have lost faith in us,' Gez-reil replied, no longer bothering to hide his disgust.
'I know they have.' Far-a-mael's voice was filled with sadness. 'And even worse, I know that you have.'
'What did you expect?' Gez-reil said exasperatedly, rising to his feet. 'You're behaving as though you've lost your mind.'
'Trust me, as you did when I was a boy,' Far-a-mael implored him.
'When you were a boy, you dragged me all the way to Old World. I'd scarcely graduated and was nowhere near ready for such an adventure,' Gez-reil grumbled.
'We survived it,' Far-a-mael chuckled.
'Barely.' Gez-reil caught himself almost smiling at the memory. 'This isn't the same.'
'How can you be so sure?' Far-a-mael rested a hand on Gez-reil's shoulder and looked him in the eye.
'Too many people are dying,' Gez-reil appealed to the conscience of the man he knew now standing had once possessed. 'The Elglair are disbanding to the south. They've lost any hope that their homes will be spared.'
'Don't you see?' Far-a-mael squeezed Gez-reil's shoulder. 'It has to be this way. You were always so fond of that little book.' He pointed at Gez-reil's tome. 'Recently I too have taken an interest. I'm the Holy Spirit, you see? I am Maker in the form of a man.'
'Far-a-mael . . . no.' Gez-reil took a step back, his face falling as his old friend revealed his inner madman.
'Don't you see?' Far-a-mael repeated, stretching out his arms. 'I cannot die,' he exclaimed, removing his knife and pushing it slowly into his torso. Insect patterns squirmed uncomfortably until he'd removed the weapon, leaving not so much as a smear of blood on his robe. 'I've been sent to rule the world. This is so much bigger than the Frozen Lands. I've been sent as a saviour to all. I will destroy every last silt and the world will know peace.'
'Then why haven't you done so!?' Gez-reil shouted, having lost all patience.
'Because . . . she burdens my thoughts,' Far-a-mael said distractedly
'Who burdens your thoughts?'
'Why, Seteal, of course,' Far-a-mael sneered.
'Just leave that poor child alone,' Gez-reil wailed. 'Haven't we hurt her enough?'
'We've had this discussion! She killed me,' Far-a-mael's voice fell to a whisper. 'She could do it again.'
'Far-a-mael?' Gez-reil uttered after a long pause. 'What are you actually planning to do?'
'I'm going to kill her,' he replied.
'No,' Gez-reil barked. 'You said we were going to anchor her, nothing more.'
'That's not true. I said you and the other twelve would anchor her,' Far-a-mael murmured. 'I intend to kill her as soon as you've done so. We should reach Elmsville by Wednesday. And you'll do as you're told. My strength is growing, Gez-reil,' Far-a-mael finished eerily. The tent soon swarmed with a variety of insect and arachnid life.
Moths flew in from outside and fluttered frantically about the lantern. Ants chewed their way through the canvas and fat roaches scampered across the floor. A dozen spiders spun webs and a wasp stung Gez-reil's arm. 'Ouch!' He slapped at the bite and squeezed his arm.
Having made his point, Far-a-mael left the tent and moments later so too did the insect invasion. Gez-reil spun toward his desk and snatched up a fresh piece of paper. He paused and took a deep breath before lifting his pen. He stared at the paper for a long time, before writing the words he regretted.
Dear Hes-la-tie,
Do not await my return. You must pack your things and get out of the Frozen Lands. Find somewhere safe and do so quickly.
Forever know that I loved you,
Gez-reil
*
'Don't move,' Jakob commanded, his pistol pointed at the back of Ilgrin's head. 'I swear if you so much as twitch those wings I'll blow your brains out.
'Jakob?' Ilgrin turned, raising his hands as he did. 'What happened to you?' he asked, eyes dropping to the man's arm in a sling.
'It doesn't matter,' Jakob replied miserably. 'Just do as I say.'
'What's going on?' Ilgrin's purple demon eyes peered into Jakob's.
'Stop talking,' Jakob sobbed. 'You have to walk ahead of me toward the woods.'
'Can't we just talk about this?' Ilgrin implored softly, glancing toward Seteal's house from his place in the workshop doorway.
'No talking.' Jakob waved his gun pedantically. He'd waited all night and some of the day for Ilgrin to come outside alone. Now that he had the demon, he couldn't risk losing him. 'Start walking,' he said forcefully, terrified that at any moment El-i-miir would sense his presence. He slammed the gun across Ilgrin's face and shoved it up to his cheek. 'Move, Maker damn you!'
'All right.' Ilgrin winced and did as he was told. The people of Elmsville watched, but did not object as they observed Jakob holding a demon at gunpoint. 'I'm moving,' he said. Jakob kept looking back until they'd reached the outskirts of Narvon Wood before allowing himself any hope that he'd escaped El-i-miir's detection. 'Why are you doing this, Jakob?' Ilgrin said gravely.
&nbs
p; 'Shut up,' Jakob snapped.
'You're better than this,' he insisted. 'I know you think you have to do this, but you don't. I can protect you from Noah.'
'I can't trust you,' Jakob bit back miserably. 'You're just another demon. You let us all down like the rest of them. You were supposed to change everything, but you ruined it.'
'I know that,' Ilgrin said regretfully as he continued ahead of Jakob. 'I know I've made mistakes. I should've done everything differently. But it doesn't have to be like this. Just tell me what's wrong. What do you want?'
'My freedom!' Jakob shouted, waving his good arm emphatically. 'Can you give me that?'
'I could try,' Ilgrin said softly and stopped walking.
'Keep moving,' Jakob snarled, but Ilgrin ignored him and turned around.
'We were friends.' Ilgrin's face fell. 'Whatever happened after that doesn't matter. I cared about you and I think if you're honest with yourself, you'll admit that you cared about me, too. So I'm asking you--please, don't do this.'
'Maker,' Jakob sobbed, dropping his arm. Ilgrin took a step forward, but Jakob had his pistol raised again in a second. 'Don't move!' he shouted hysterically. 'I didn't say you could move.'
'All right, I'm sorry.' Ilgrin stepped back. 'I'm sorry, okay? I won't move.'
'I know what he's going to do to you.' Jakob shuddered at the thought. 'I can't let him do that to me, so you see, I have to bring you to him. I have to.'
'No.' Ilgrin shook his head. 'Be better than that, Jakob. I've seen it in you. I know that there's something more to you than cowardice. It's not too late. You can do something good.'