Cruel Angel's Thesis

7

NEAR BAHYITH

The following morning, Allain had more visitors. He knew the previous night’s confrontation would have one of two outcomes. Either the men of the village would return in greater numbers, hoping to overwhelm him by force, or they would come peaceably, bringing their elder to make an alliance with the powerful stranger. Allain hoped the latter was true and that his demonstration was sufficient to prevent any further attempts at violence. When he saw the small group of Chatsiyram traveling in the open, his hope increased.

They walked slowly beside the stream, understandably cautious. The youngest men with smooth faces walked in front. They carried khafars in their clenched fists. Older males followed closely behind, with close-cropped, bearded faces that shifted continually, looking for additional signs of danger. When they were within speaking distance, the group halted. The young men in front parted into two groups.

The elder, whose beard fell well past his chest, moved forward from the back of the group. His hair and beard were braided and adorned with long blades of grass that made a swishing sound as he moved. He was slightly shorter and thicker than the rest, but his movements were still agile. Stepping to the front of the small delegation, the elder stood with his arms relaxed at his sides. He carried no weapon and remained silent. His eyes scanned Allain from head to toe, but his face betrayed no emotion.

“Welcome,” Allain greeted. “I have food. Will you join me for a meal?”

The elder’s eyes narrowed slightly.

A meal was a clear peace offering in their culture, but it was usually prepared by the women. Allain was alone, and clearly not a female.

“We will eat with you,” the elder replied after a long silence.

Allain nodded and turned, motioning for them to follow. He led them toward his temporary dwelling where he had a small pile of fruit arranged on the ground, atop a bed of broad leaves. It represented a few hours of morning gathering.

The Chatsiyr males quickly gathered in a circle around the food and seated themselves on the ground. Without any formalities, each young man reached forward and took one piece. The man on the elder’s right side grabbed two and handed one to the tribe’s leader.

“You mean us no harm,” the elder said, accepting the cone-shaped fruit. Then, without taking his gaze from Allain, he expertly peeled the firm, red skin to reveal the edible flesh inside.

Allain couldn’t tell from the inflection whether this was a question or statement, but he thought it was a good place to start the conversation either way. “This is true,” he replied.

“Why are you here?” the elder asked, then took a bite of his food.

“I have journeyed from far away. I came to help you and your people.”

The elder stopped chewing and his eyebrows shot upward, then quickly plummeted. “Who sent you?”

“No one,” Allain admitted. “I am only traveling through your land. And if I am able, I will help anyone who has need.”

“Because you have dathrah,” the elder stated.

Allain had heard this word only once before, but he remembered it well. Any wisdom or ability not common to the typical tribe member was seen as supernatural in origin, or dathrah. “Yes,” he admitted.

“How did you learn this dathrah?”

Allain thought for a moment. “It was given to me a very long time ago. But I see you have dathrah, as well.” Having reached the first milestone of the conversation—getting the elder to recognize his powers—Allain now wanted to move on to the next objective. “You can see what others cannot.”

“Yes,” the elder confirmed. His eyebrows lowered slowly while the rest of his face remained unmoving. “How do you know this?”

With his confrontational style of communication, the elder was making it difficult to steer the conversation. Though Allain wanted his powers to be established in their minds, he didn’t want them to dwell on it. Instead, he hoped to progress to an understanding of their needs and how he might help. If they invited him into their village, regardless of the terms, he would have a better chance of establishing a relationship with them and thereby gain access to regular contact with Sheyir.

“Because you came to me without a khafar. I can see that you care about the safety of your people. Tell me, are your people protected? What have you seen with your dathrah?”

The elder was silent for a moment.

Perhaps I’ve gone too fast. I should have waited before questioning his weaknesses.

“You will come to our village and we will talk more.”

He blatantly avoided the question, but Allain was pleased nonetheless. The invitation alone showed an extraordinary amount of progress in such a short time. Though tempted as he was to celebrate, he still had a long way to go. The elder hadn’t yet introduced himself. When names were finally exchanged, then he would know that he had accomplished something significant with Sheyir’s father. And that accomplishment would lead him to his ultimate goal.

* * * *

NORTH OF KRUTHEL

The steep, rocky terrain gave way to lush fields and forests again as Enoch moved eastward, still keeping the shoreline on his right side. In the silence of this solitary journey, it was the whispers of the Holy One that kept him going, fueling his tired body. But the sightings of large beasts roaming the land were becoming more frequent. They were a constant reminder that he was not alone or safe from danger.

Another eight days brought him to a second narrow stretch of land between two bodies of water, which he named Ne-Banyim.* As he moved through this area and away from the water, the land rose again. Enoch’s progress slowed considerably as he encountered hill after hill, and he found his energy sapped before the end of each day. Eating as much as he could find to maintain his strength, he continued pushing eastward. After nearly two weeks through this tiresome land he crested a hill and caught the first glimpse of the mountains from his dream. Katan Har-Marah they would be called from that day forward—the Lesser Mountains of My Vision. Having finally reached the land of Nowd, Enoch stopped early that day and rested to regain his strength. After spending the night atop the knoll with the mountains in the distance, he turned northeast and began the last leg of his journey with renewed vigor.

The grassy plains were gone now, replaced by dense forests dotting the landscape. The mist rising from the ground was thicker here than in Kruthel, and seemed to prefer lodging itself in the trees. Moving carefully through the foreign terrain, Enoch turned gradually to the north. Using the memory of his vision, he kept the water always within sight to serve as a reference. After a week, the taller mountain of his dream loomed on the northeastern horizon.

“Gadol Har-Marah,” he said aloud. The sound of his own voice after so many days of silence was almost startling. He stood for a moment, looking at the great uprising of land. Mist obscured the peak, making the mountain seem all the more ominous. And somewhere on the other side of it was the city of Khanok, home of the Kahyin tribe. As he stared into the distance, he lifted a piece of green fruit to his lips and took a bite. It was bitter, but it was something to fill his stomach.

The low screech of an animal brought him out of his thoughts and reminded him that he needed to keep moving. He began walking again and heard the same sound from a different direction this time.

Mating call?

When he heard a third call from yet another direction, his hand tightened around the walking stick he’d acquired only days after leaving Kruthel.

Hunting pack!

Glancing around, he searched for shelter—a tree to climb, a ravine to cross. Unfortunately, he was surrounded by nothing but knee-high grasses and the occasional tall bush. The nearest trees were several minutes’ run from where he stood.

Where are they?

From what he’d seen in the last few weeks, predatory pack animals were usually larger than knee-high. So he was immediately suspicious of the surrounding bushes. To the north, the land dropped into a wide clearing free of brush or any tall vegetation. He began to run without another thought.

Instantly, other screeches sounded from multiple directions behind him, clearly audible above the swish of the wet grasses slapping at his legs. He changed his grip on his walking stick and was now greatly relieved to have something that could be used as a weapon.

Descending the hill at a rapid pace, he reached the flat land within seconds and began hacking his way through the waist-high grass. Only a few strides away from the shallower vegetation, Enoch flinched when a creature, larger than himself, rose into view. Instinctively, he swung his walking stick.

The creature quickly dodged to the side and swung something in retaliation.

Enoch caught the blow on the side of his head and his vision went black.

~

When he regained consciousness, he was lying face-down in the grass, hands tied behind his back. His head throbbed with pain and he could feel something wet covering the side of his head and shoulders.

“Luh, Luh. Wu-selema el muhadis arushida!” one of his attackers stated.

Enoch couldn’t see anything but dirt and the thick roots of some grass stalks. His initial confusion was just beginning to dissipate as he considered the possibility that these animals were, in fact, human.

Someone spoke again in a language Enoch didn’t understand, and another man replied quickly with agitation in his voice, as if they were arguing. Something strong clamped his arm and pulled Enoch painfully to his feet. His shoulder threatened to rip from its socket and, for a moment, the pain in his head was forgotten. Enoch stifled a scream, trying his best to be compliant and somehow survive whatever was about to happen to him.

For the first time, Enoch now saw his attackers face to face—people of the Kahyin tribe. They were all nearly a full head taller than he, with skin much darker than his own. Their size and muscular forms were made more intimidating by the disturbing animal remains they wore. The empty skull and jagged teeth of some reptilian creature protected their heads and hung down in front of their faces. Across their shoulders and backs they wore thick, mottled hides, embedded with rows of spines. The rest of their bodies were naked, and they showed no hint of shame about it. In their hands they each carried a short wooden club with half of its length covered by the tail-skin of the same creature—tiny, dull spines that grew tighter and shorter until they ended at a bulbous, bludgeoning instrument. Judging by the way it swung from the men’s grasp, it appeared to have the weight of stone.

Enoch presumed that he had already been on the receiving end of this weapon and would do anything to prevent it from happening again.

“Siyeruh,” one of the men said, nodding his head to the north.

Looking into the man’s eyes, which were almost black, Enoch understood exactly what to do, even though he didn’t understand their language. With his hands fastened behind him, he began to carefully make his way through the grass.

One of the men ran ahead and Enoch paused to see what he was doing. This only provoked another man to jab his weapon into Enoch’s back.

“Siyeruh,” the man behind him repeated.

Enoch saw now that the man in front was leading the way, and picked up his pace to match him.