Cruel Angel's Thesis

6

NORTH OF KRUTHEL

From his home city on the grassy plains, Enoch traveled due north. Somewhere beyond the eastern horizon lay the mountains of Nagah, but Enoch kept the shores of Da-Mayim visible on his western side as he picked his way carefully across the terrain. Traveling at a pace that he knew would be sustainable for quite some time, he moved only by the light of day, continuing on a straight route for three weeks until he reached a body of water that spread to the north, east, and west as far as his eye could see. Turning westward, he kept the shoreline on his right side for another three days until the land narrowed between it and another body of water to the west. Across this strip of land, which he named Ad-Banyim*, he traveled with relative ease until the shorelines on either side began to widen and the terrain began to slope upward. In his mind, he could still see clearly the path that had been laid out before him. And with confidence, he kept to the right-hand shoreline as it gradually swung north, then east again, over the course of the following week. The land here sloped sharply from the mountains to the water, and passage was difficult and slow across the rocky footing.11 Having long ago used up his provisions, he was now grazing as he moved, collecting fruit and anything else edible along the way.

His breathing was coming in ragged gasps now, as he expended precious energy to reach the bush growing in the dark soil between the jagged rocks of the slope.

It looked bigger from below, he thought as he slumped to the ground beside it. Within minutes, he had picked all the bright red clumps from the leaves and put most of them away in his bag. After eating a handful of the tart berries, he loosened the ties and removed the skins covering the bottoms of his feet. The soft grasses that had been stuffed inside were matted and wet with blood.

He hissed softly as he probed the sensitive skin with his fingers. His feet had toughened considerably over the past weeks, but the cut on his left heel seemed to be getting worse.

Too much walking. Holy One, please protect the feet of the one who goes to deliver Your message.

Reclining against the rocks, Enoch looked out over the terrain ahead. The shoreline below continued to swing eastward and it appeared that the steep slopes would lessen in the coming days. Already, dense groupings of trees were becoming more common in the spaces between the crags of stone. Far ahead, a group of dark shapes were clustered together in a flat clearing before the water—a herd grazing on the thick grass. Enoch watched their lazy movements and it reminded him of the animals of the plains near Kruthel.

Suddenly, a massive shape burst from the wall of trees to the north. It ran on two powerful hind legs and kept its enormous head low to the ground. Even in this posture, the dull green creature was roughly four times taller than any of the grazing animals.

The herd scattered immediately. Loud, mournful bellows escaped the frightened animals as they ran in all directions. A few hobbled awkwardly for the water and plunged in without hesitating. When the predator reached them, they were floundering wildly and unable to escape.

Enoch crouched low and held his stomach as he watched the attacker rush into the shallow water with its jaws open, its head tilted to the side.

The creature clamped down on the nearest animal and shook its head violently from side to side. The water foamed white, then red. A harsh growl cut through the panicked splashing. Seconds later, the smaller animal was nothing more than a limp shape hanging from the jaws of the predator that carried it back into the trees.

Enoch crawled backward on his hands and knees and lowered himself to the ground when he was out of sight. His heart pounded in his chest. The rock felt cold against his face and the smell of wet soil filled his nostrils.

I was headed there! And I still have to walk through that place! How am I going to survive this terrible land?

At once, his heart slowed and the tension left his muscles. He felt the presence of the Holy One. Beyond his hand lying flat against the moss-covered rocks, he saw the bush that he’d picked bare of its fruit—the bush that had seemed so important only a few minutes ago, but had turned out to be not worth the effort. He smiled when he realized what had just happened.

Holy One, it is Your guidance that sustains me. Not my own. Forgive my fearful heart.

* * * *

BAHYITH

“What did he say?”

“I mean you no harm,” the young man answered.

Another leaned forward. “He said he came on a journey from far away.”

The conversation of the males was almost too faint to hear. Sheyir picked up a bundle of wide-bladed strands of grass and submerged them in water, pretending to be occupied by the work at hand. But she listened intently to the discussion taking place nearby.

“He was very big, like the stories of the murderers from the east. But his skin was pale and his hair was white.”

“His eyes were like the deep waters,” another young man pointed out.

Sheyir’s father crossed his arms and leaned back from the circle. As the elder of the tribe, it was his responsibility to interpret the signs and give direction to his people.

Like the other Chatsiyram, Sheyir’s fate rested solely on the wisdom of her father. With the exception of his choice of husband for his daughter, he usually made good decisions. But Sheyir already knew what her father’s reaction would be to a visitation by such a strange and intimidating man. What surprised her, however, was the way her heart began to beat faster when she thought of him. And though he wasn’t human and could fly away at any moment, she nevertheless feared that the Chatsiyr males would somehow hurt him.

“I do not like the words you tell me,” her father responded finally.

Sheyir pushed another bundle beneath the water and kept her eyes down. But her ears strained to hear her father’s judgment.

“You will take the young men and find where he went. You will kill him so he cannot bring trouble to our people.”

Sheyir suddenly turned her head in the opposite direction and squeezed her eyes shut. She imagined the stranger again and the melody he sang. She remembered his words.

Please don’t go, Sheyir. I’ve come a long way to see you.

“Fly away,” she whispered to the stranger. “Wherever you are, fly far away.”

NEAR BAHYITH

Allain waited patiently on a flat rock in the center of shallow water, downstream from the Chatsiyr village. In the fading light of dusk, he sat motionless, listening. He wondered how long it would take for the men of the village to discuss the matter, reach a consensus, and decide to track the strange man who had shown up unannounced and had invaded their privacy. With his eyes closed, his ears became attuned to the concert of sounds—insects buzzing, water trickling, birds chirping. Then he heard it—a faint sound that was out of place amid the persistent noises of the jungle. A swish of grass that didn’t follow the rhythm of the breeze drifting through the stream bed.

Allain rose to his feet and readied himself for the coming confrontation. Somewhere, out in the darkness, the Chatsiyr men were closing in to eliminate a threat. Even though he was expecting them, it was still quite startling to see the empty riverbed gently reflecting the last of the daylight, suddenly populated with dozens of silhouettes. Though they weren’t hunters, they certainly would have been up to the challenge. They moved quietly for a group of herbivores.

More young men appeared in the grass along the opposite bank of the stream. And he knew that if he were to turn around, he’d see still more behind him. Casually crossing his arms, Allain waited as the men moved closer, now only forty paces away.

They continued to close in, tightening the circle, holding their spears either in a two-handed grip or above the shoulder, ready to throw.

Just a little closer. There, that should work just fine.

Keeping his body in the Teres Kingdom, Allain began to shift his consciousness toward the Eternal, just enough to escape the limitation of the evening darkness. From this new vantage point, where the existence of all living beings could be seen as glowing orbs with tendrils stretching toward the Eternal, Allain watched a simple melody expand from his lips and drift through the air, bursting into tiny points of light when it reached the Chatsiyr men. Though inaudible within the boundaries of the Teres Kingdom, he could still watch the results as he shifted his consciousness back to where his body remained.

All of a sudden, birds dropped from the evening sky, diving for the insects that their senses told them were there.

The Chatsiyr men flinched, as the small, winged creatures apparently swooped to attack them. As the men moved closer to the pale stranger who stood confidently upon the river, the birds’ movements became more aggressive. Finally, the men stopped and began to back away.

Allain smiled to himself as he watched them retreat. Surely they would be awestruck by the power of someone able to command the creatures of the sky. He’d shown them mystical influence with restraint. No one had been hurt. With any luck, the Chatsiyr elder would hear the incredible story from his subjects, and would see this stranger not as a threat, but as a potential ally.

One step closer to Sheyir.