Airel: The Awakening (Airel Saga Book One)

Chapter XIX

CHAPTER XIX

KREIOS TOUCHED DOWN IN the woods just outside Gratzipt. The smoke from warming fires inside houses hung low over the ground in graceful striations, like a blanket. Kreios finished his journey at a run, down the main road to the humble house where his brother had hidden his little family. It was just before dawn, the moon long ago set. A crackle of firelight on the eastern horizon prophesied the coming day. Though death and darkness could be sensed consorting in danse macabre at the fringe of the primeval, the town slumbered still.

Zedkiel opened the door to find Kreios beaming with his daughter swaddled against his chest. “I have her. She is safe, but we cannot stay any longer.”

Zedkiel waved him in. “We have packed and are ready to leave. I agree; I have changed my position. We must go now if we are to survive the day.” A large pack outfitted with essential gear lay on the ground next to the door. It held blankets, dried barley bread, a knife, wooden utensils, a digging tool, an axe, and a few things for cooking. They did not need much food—only enough to keep Maria nourished. The rest they could hunt. They would cook over an open fire.

“They are camped a few miles from the gorge with an army,” Kreios said. “The Seer is with them. They lie in wait.” He stuffed a bundle of rope and more dried food in his pack as he spoke. “I killed two of them. The Sword restored me faster than I have ever experienced. I healed from what might have been a mortal wound before the eyes of one of their hosts. Something is happening, my brother—and I must confess that I do not know what it is.”

“You have your daughter. That is all that matters,” Zedkiel said. “But as for me and my family, I must take Maria away from here to keep her safe. I fear I will not be able to accompany you on your journey. We will keep your daughter safe.” Zedkiel called Maria from the bedroom and kissed her lips tenderly. 

Kreios was glad Zedkiel had seen the risk in staying at the village, that he had changed his mind. Kreios looked down at the soft eyes of his sweet baby girl and bathed his heart in her smile. She possessed her mother’s complexion and part of her essence; he could feel it. They want me? He could not believe it. He thought they had really wanted her, though he could not guess for what purpose—especially since they had let her slip from their grasp so easily. He looked at his brother and they shared an unspoken moment of mutual yearning, regret, and pain.

Kreios broke the silence. “We will go to the mountains of Ke’elei. There we will find the great city and we shall be safe. These filth,” he gestured to the dark wood that surrounded the village and the creatures that crept there, “dare not go to it, even if they can find it. It is the last place our kind are truly free. I will show you the way, brother, but after that I must track and kill the Seer. It is time we are rid of him and his sorcery.” 

“I have heard of this place,” Zedkiel said. “I did not believe it was real. I believed they had scattered us, all of us. I thought the last of our villages had either been buried or taken to the sky for eternity.” Zedkiel was lost for a moment in thought and reflection, during which his shining face dimmed and his eyes cooled, losing their passion. “But you and I both know there is no going back,” he said. “We are outcast, cursed.” He lowered his head and a tear ran down his cheek as he remembered the home from which he had been in long, painful exile. It had been a very long time, but the remembrance of the scent of perfect air, a place lit by El Himself, a sunless sky that never gave way to darkness, filled him with hope. 

Kreios thought about it too, remembering when he had walked into the Sea of Crystal and let the cool clear water flow between his toes. He remembered the beginning, after they had chosen to leave, after they had turned aside from El. Kreios felt that perhaps El had turned his back on them as well. He would have had every right, but the void of that space in between them still cut him deeply. “Zedkiel,” Kreios said. “When passion has turned to ash, persistence remains and burns hot, should we choose it. Remember,” he said, grasping his shoulder, “even though we are sojourners without a home or a place to lay our heads, we still feel and receive blessing from El because He does not change. El’s love is like rushing water that breaks hard rock. We cannot begin to hide from it. Or Him.”

Zedkiel nodded. He stood up straight and embraced his very pregnant Maria, whose smile was radiant. They looked at each other knowingly and packed anything else they thought they might need before setting out. 

Kreios led them around back to the modest stable. Three white stallions stood there ready to ride. “They are the most potent line ever bred,” Zedkiel said. “This is the tenth generation.” He grinned with pride as he helped Maria into her saddle and then settled onto his own mount. The stallions were huge, standing over twenty hands tall. True war horses bred for power and resolve, they were looked upon with terror on the field of battle. From this breed would spring the mighty Percheron of France—horses bred for war, for strength, for power. 

Kreios rode the largest. He ran his hand over its neck, whispering into its ear. The horse grunted as if understanding, even as if in agreement. 

Soon they were on the main road riding out of town. Their journey would take three days and nights. They could not take to the sky so that the secret of the mountain city of Ke’elei would be kept. That was not worth any amount of risk. A second strategy would need to be employed, in fact, so secrecy could be ensured.

“I will go with you as far as the head of the Two Rivers,” Kreios said. “Then I shall take to the air in a new direction to try to find an old friend who should be able to help us.” Kreios smiled slightly at the memory of his old friend Yamanu. He adjusted the sling that held his baby girl over his chest. 

Gathering clouds filled the sky to the west as the sun began to rise. They were dark and thick, their payload snow and frigid air and darkness of the worst kind.

Kreios would need to find his old friend. The pendulum would swing. This is a matter of the survival of our kind now, Yamanu. I pray you can live up to your legacy.