‘It just seems so cruel.’ Seteal bit her lip. ‘What will he think when he wakes up to find us all gone?’
‘Who cares?’ El-i-miir raised her voice, having travelled far enough away from the shed to feel confident in doing so. ‘He’s just a bird.’
‘I know, I know.’ Seteal shook her head. ‘I’m being silly.’
‘We can’t go far,’ Ilgrin whispered, making sure to keep his face covered beneath a hood. ‘We have to find somewhere else to hide until nightfall.’
‘I know it’s not great that we’re exposed like this,’ El-i-miir stated apologetically, ‘but I figured that there’d be less of a chance of waking Seeol if we made our escape by day.’
The three hurried nervously across open fields until finding a dense patch of woods in which to hide.
Lu-ke 3
21-22. Now when all the people were baptized, it came to pass that Lu-ke also was baptized. And while He prayed the Holy Spirit descended in a vision with the body of an owl.
Joh-n 1
32. And Joh-n bore record, saying, “I saw the Spirit descend from the clouds and stand before a tree with the body of an owl."
Scriptures of the Holy Tome
CHAPTER SIX
IT BEGINS
‘Can I talk to you for a minute?’ Seteal’s voice intruded upon El-i-miir’s thoughts. She’d been watching Ilgrin at the precipice of rough terrain. He’d flown up there to keep an eye on Far-a-mael’s men as they neared the city. El-i-miir had been admiring his slender, yet muscular physique, and it was for this reason that Seteal’s voice proved to be such an intrusion.
El-i-miir turned around irritably. ‘What is it?’
‘When you focus on the Ways, have you ever found it difficult to come back to normal?’
‘I don’t understand.’ El-i-miir frowned, whilst remembering to consider the fact that Seteal’s experience of the Ways would be significantly different than that of her own. It took a great deal of concentration for Seteal to create a connection with the Ways, without which she was quite like any ordinary outlander.
‘There is no going back to “normal” for me,’ El-i-miir said thoughtfully, glancing at the strands of light shimmering all about her. ‘I suppose the best way to explain it would be that the Ways are like a book, always open and always surrounding me. I just don’t always happen to be reading them,’ she finished, but saw dissatisfaction to the explanation in Seteal’s aura. ‘Do you see that plant over there?’
‘The dead one?’ Seteal asked.
‘It’s not dead,’ El-i-miir replied. ‘I can tell by its aura. It’ll be dead in a day or two, but for now it’s still clinging to life. Such information has been available to me the whole time we’ve been standing here, but I didn’t know it until I chose to read the information available to me. There’s no going back to “normal,” as you put it.’
‘When I’m with the Ways,’ Seteal began uncertainly, ‘sometimes it feels like I’m going to stay there forever.’
El-i-miir peered into Seteal’s aura in the hopes of gaining some insight into what she was talking about. ‘Something happened the last time you projected.’
‘What? No!’ Seteal snapped without thinking, allowing El-i-miir to detect the lie as soon as it was spoken.
‘You’re hiding something,’ she stated. ‘Tell me what it is.’
‘Just forget it.’ Seteal frowned. ‘We should catch up with Ilgrin.’ She pushed past to continue up the slope.
‘If you say so.’ El-i-miir attempted and probably failed to mask her concern. She knew better than to push Seteal to open up before she was ready to do so.
‘Come on,’ Ilgrin urged as the women approached. ‘You have got to see this.’
El-i-miir stooped low as she approached. Once level with Ilgrin, she peered over the precipice to see what’d taken the silt’s interest. Before them stood a tall mountain surrounded on all sides by valleys that wrapped around its circumference. A small way up the mountain fortified walls encircled Veret, the capitol city of Jenjol. At the top of the mountain was perched a castle, being the palace of the royal family. It too was encompassed by impressive walls of its own.
Far-a-mael’s great hadoan was descending the adjacent valley along with the allied soldiers of Garrishnell, while Veret had no defence to be seen. The city gates were barricaded, but otherwise they were quite vulnerable. El-i-miir shifted uneasily on the hard earth. She sensed deception. Perhaps the Jenjen weren’t as ill-prepared as they appeared.
‘Is that . . .’ Ilgrin trailed off, squinting against the sun.
‘Far-a-mael,’ Seteal finished flatly.
‘Say what you will, but you have to admire his courage.’ El-i-miir felt a strange respect for the old man when she spotted him leading the mass of troops from the front line. Seteal and Ilgrin shared an expression of disbelief before shaking their heads in disapproval.
‘I have no admiration for that man.’ Seteal glared at the tiny figure below. ‘He’s a heartless bastard who’s about to carry out an unprovoked attack on countless innocent men.’
‘Unprovoked?’ El-i-miir balked. ‘Jenjol has been threatening and preaching against the Elglair for centuries. The only reason they haven’t attacked us is due to warranted fear and a lack of firepower.’
‘I can’t believe you’re defending him,’ Seteal grumbled.
‘Look.’ Ilgrin hushed them and pointed toward Far-a-mael’s left side, where a young an’hadoan tumbled from his horse, having been struck by an arrow. ‘Just one arrow?’
‘It’s the only one that got through,’ El-i-miir whispered. ‘The gils are confusing the Jenjen archers, likely turning them against each other.’
‘So much for this “great army” Jenjol has been amassing,’ Seteal murmured.
‘Oh, Maker,’ El-i-miir gasped when a glimmer of reflected light caught her attention to the city’s north. ‘It’s a trap.’
A horn sounded loud and clear, and a thunderous roar could be heard as three separate teams of Jenjen foot soldiers erupted from the hidden valleys surrounding the Elglair. The teams submerged on the foreign invaders from every direction, waving swords and shouting battle cries. The Elglair and Garishian formations fell apart in the confusion. Released from their spell, the Jenjen archers began to fire.
Burning arrows spewed away from the fortified walls, leaving the attacking army with no defence other than to raise their shields and hope for the best. El-i-miir stared in wide-eyed fear for her people. She knew they were in the wrong, but couldn’t help in caring for their wellbeing. She’d gone to school with some of those people. She shared a home with them. And they were outnumbered four to one.
‘Do something, Seteal!’
‘What can I do?’ Seteal recoiled. ‘This isn’t my war.’
‘Anything,’ El-i-miir pleaded, her eyes locked on one figure in particular.
Far-a-mael carried his sword as though it were weightless, while his free hand moved about, turning the Ways against his victims. They fell to moan and quiver in the dirt. The old gil’s sword spun effortlessly as he spilt a soldier’s intestines. Another took advantage of the distraction and pounced, but Far-a-mael spun around and relieved the man of his head.
There was a thunderous roar as several hundred more Jenjen soldiers flooded up from Cold Wood. The Elglair and Garrishians retreated to the south, realising they’d been bested. The Jenjen pursued without mercy. Swords struck, cutting their mounts’ hamstrings. Finally, a great line of gil’hadoans formed to forge a path of destruction away from the city. They’d been beaten and sought retreat.
‘We have to do something,’ El-i-miir tried again. ‘They’re going to kill them.’
‘What makes you think I don’t want that?’ Seteal snarled as she watched the Jenjen closing in on Far-a-mael. ‘Let them destroy each other.’
Just as the battle had begun so abruptly, it reached its conclusion in a like manner, the horn blasting repeatedly. Thousands of Jenjen soldiers
lowered their swords, their expressions matching the level of confusion that El-i-miir felt. The Elglair and the Garrishians hurried on into the distance, now two-thirds the number they’d previously been.
‘What on earth was that all about?’ Ilgrin asked nobody in particular. ‘They’re just letting them escape?’
The Jenjen soldiers folded back toward the city.
‘I’ve seen enough.’ Seteal slithered back from the edge, got to her feet and dusted herself off. ‘Far-a-mael has been hurt. That means he’ll be disorganised. They’ll have to stop for a few days and sort themselves out. This is our chance to get ahead.’
‘Get ahead?’ El-i-miir said distractedly, unable to tear her eyes away from the bloody scene bellow. ‘He’s not going to give up, you know. Somehow, he’ll find the reinforcements he needs and when he does, he’ll come back to finish the job.’
‘All the better.’ Ilgrin nodded in agreement with Seteal. ‘This is our chance to put distance between him and ourselves. We’re destined for Old World, remember? It’s not our job to protect Far-a-mael and his men.’
‘Well, yes . . . of course.’ El-i-miir swallowed anxiously and attempted to focus on what they were doing . . . what were they doing? Gez-reil had said that Ilgrin would find his answers in Old World--possibly even a way to prevent war. Surely that couldn’t have meant warning the silts ahead of time so that they could prepare to conquer the Elglair. Gez-reil wouldn’t do that to his own kind. To do so would make him no better than Far-a-mael. ‘What exactly are you getting out of this anyway?’ El-i-miir asked Seteal suspiciously.
‘I’ll be honest with you,’ Seteal replied passionately. ‘Sooner or later, there will be war with Old World and at its completion Far-a-mael will stand alone in the centre of a battlefield. There will be no one to share in his victory, but for the dead men at his feet. And that is the day I’m living for, because I swear to you he will not walk away with his life intact.’
El-i-miir shuddered at the look of malevolence in Seteal’s eyes. They were full of hatred. How could anybody live that way? How could it not destroy her? She looked more closely, only to realise that perhaps it already had. But Seteal’s eyes began to change. They became dull, losing all passion and drive. ‘The knowing,’ she whispered.
Seteal rocked forward and stumbled several paces before regaining balance. Contrary to before, her eyes now bore naught but disbelief. She covered her mouth and turned away. ‘I can’t.’ She walked in the opposite direction, forcing Ilgrin and El-i-miir to pursue her.
‘What is it?’ Ilgrin asked. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Get away from me,’ Seteal barked, running away from them, only to collapse in the dry grass.
‘Come on.’ Ilgrin took El-i-miir’s hand and they approached together. He stopped several strides away and waited patiently.
‘I’m so tired of all this death,’ Seteal said softly. ‘I’m tired of knowing about it, feeling it, wanting it. Ilgrin.’ She turned slowly. ‘Please give us a moment.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Please,’ she insisted.
‘Sure.’ He held up his hands defensively and turned to walk away.
‘He’s going to die,’ Seteal informed El-i-miir as she stood.
‘I’m sorry?’ El-i-miir shook her head disbelievingly. ‘What’re you talking about?’
‘He is going to die.’ Seteal pointed wildly. ‘Ilgrin is going to die and it’ll be forever.’
‘Oh, Maker,’ El-i-miir choked out before lowering herself to sit on a small boulder. ‘It cannot be. You must be wrong.’
‘No.’ Seteal cringed as she said the word. ‘It was a love so deep.’ She sat down beside her friend. ‘I had no idea just how deep it was. He would die for you. He will die to save us all.’
‘I refuse to believe it,’ El-i-miir sobbed.
‘It was you,’ Seteal murmured as she tried to make sense of the knowledge that’d so crassly been forced into her consciousness. ‘Through all of it, I felt his love for you. It was as though the knowing were more about your Way than his.’
‘It was,’ El-i-miir said bitterly. ‘My mother used to tell me to focus on my studies and never fall in love. She used to tell me there’d only be darkness for the one who loved me. I used to think it was because she wanted me to excel academically, but when I got older, she told me love would only bring me sorrow. When I met Ilgrin, I’d assumed that her knowing had been a misinterpretation of my falling in love with a silt. I was naïve. I was hopeful. I was wrong.’
‘Make him hate you,’ Seteal urged softly. ‘Save his life and save yourself from the pain of losing him.’
‘The knowing doesn’t work like that,’ El-i-miir said ruefully. ‘The Ways have stained my aura with the details of what is yet to come because of the profound depth of love Ilgrin will eventually show me. The outcome is inevitable.’
‘So Ilgrin will die even if you turn him away.’ Seteal nodded, finally understanding. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Oh, you hate him anyway,’ El-i-miir replied sullenly before standing up to walk away.
‘No . . . I don’t.’ Seteal looked at Ilgrin pityingly, but El-i-miir was already out of earshot.
Matt-hew 24
3. And as he sat upon the mount near Veret, the reis came unto him privately, saying, “Tell us, when shall these things be? And what shall be the sign of the coming and of the end of the world?”
4. And the prophet answered and said unto them, “Take heed that no man deceive you.
5. For many shall come using Maker’s name, saying, “I am the Spirit,” and shall deceive many.
6. And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars. See that ye be not troubled, for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet.
7. For nation shall rise against nation and kingdom against kingdom, and there shall be famines and pestilences and earthquakes in divers places.
8. All these are the beginning of sorrows.
19. And woe unto she that is with child, and to she with a suckling infant in those days!
21. For then shall be the great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time, no, nor ever shall be again.
Scriptures of the Holy Tome
CHAPTER SEVEN
UPON THE WIND
The glowing golden sunlight of early dawn shimmered between the gaps in the panelled wall of the shed to touch Seeol’s tightly closed eyelids. Once sunlight would not have served as a trigger to wake him, but his ways were not what they’d once been. Seeol opened his eyes with a start. It was dawn. He and his friends must’ve slept through the night instead of resuming their journey as planned.
‘Seteal?’ Seeol peered around the shed from his place atop of an old tin can. ‘El-i-miish? Ilgrin?’ In their apparent absence he wondered where they were.
Seeol flittered onto the hard-packed dirt floor and made his way over to the enormous door. Fortunately, it’d been left open a handswidth and he was able to escape. Before he could even open his wings, the wind picked him up and tossed Seeol into the orange and brown leaf litter. He hunkered down against the wind to inspect his surroundings in search of his friends.
A dead leaf fell, blanketing Seeol and leaving him buried in an orange glow. For a moment, he wanted not to resist his burial, but rather to remain there. It was peaceful. Here, he would be safe from that which he suspected to be true. Ignoring temptation, Seeol flapped his wings and scrabbled free of the pile of leaves that’d covered him.
‘Seteal!’ he cried, panic rising in his chest. He leapt into the air.
The wind’s fury increased with the height of Seeol’s ascension. In the treetops, his wings were near to useless and his tail feathers failed to steer. He was another leaf, bustled about at nature’s mercy. His wings burned as he beat them furiously in hope of regaining some control. He ascended. Higher. Higher. He wondered if he’d reached heights never accomplished by an elf owl before.
Once gigantic trees paled
to insignificance compared to the expansive fields that surrounded them. Breath came in short bursts. Elf owls were not designed for extended periods in flight. His wings were meant for hunting prey, not migration. The sun bit mercilessly at his large eyes, its brilliance overwhelming a bird of the night. There was no sign . . . not one.
The fields below were populated by none but cattle. Even if one of them had seen Seeol’s friends, they wouldn’t be able to tell him where they’d gone. Cows couldn’t talk. Seeol knew this because he’d asked them on several occasions, but was yet to receive a sensible response. Relaxing his wings, Seeol floated back down to the treetops, where he spotted something that gave him hope.
A large owl slept camouflaged atop a branch. Seeol could tell by its great size that it was not an elf owl, but an owl just the same.
‘Hello,’ Seeol said upon landing somewhat further up the branch. The bird didn’t respond. ‘Hello,’ Seeol tried again with a louder voice. He crept closer. The owl, standing five times his own height opened one eye, but showed no other sign of life. ‘I’m looking for friendlies.’ He shook his head. He’d said it wrong.
‘I’m looking for my friends,’ he tried again and was satisfied that he’d gotten it right. ‘Please be helpful.’ The large owl responded only by opening his beak and hissing. Seeol shuffled back along the branch. ‘I’m sorry to have so intruded.’
He took his cue to leave. Meddling with strangers could be dangerous and in this case pointless.
Landing on another branch, Seeol paused to think. For whatever reason the others had left him. He wondered what could’ve driven them to do so. They must’ve wanted to get rid of him, but that didn’t make any sense. They were his friends. Perhaps they’d been in danger and forgotten to wake him up. Or maybe they’d gone out for breakfast and were attacked. What if Far-a-mael had found them? Seeol’s heart began to pound as he conjured up images of his friends meeting a terrible fate. Refusing to accept that it might already be too late, Seeol decided that he had to find them and save them. After all, they’d have done the same for him.