Borne of Fire

Chapter 9

They set off at sundown travelling cautiously under cover of dusk. They had waited in the rocks, each lost his own thoughts, seldom speaking. Snow filled clouds had rolled in from the East at the onset of twilight and frustration at the lack of action grew until the original plan of waiting for full dark had been superseded when the group decided as one that they had waited long enough.

Although they set out together, Ja'aris soon began to distance himself from the others, ranging ahead and adopting the role of scout. He hadn't spoken since his outburst in the watcher-tongue earlier and it was obvious that he was far from happy with the decision to return to Brookdale.

L'non walked alongside Randyl and Braxter however and although conversation was sparse and far from flowing, he was willing to answer their questions when asked. This lack of forced conversation suited the younger men as they both dealt with their own feelings of fear, grief and apprehension at what they would find when they reached their home. Wariness dogged every step and as reluctant as they were, they knew they must go on.

The land had been rising gently and Ja'aris ranging ahead, reached the summit long before the others did. Without warning he dropped to a crouch, taking cover in a crevice between two rocks. His arm was raised to the side of his head and his fist was clenched in an unspoken signal to L'non who grabbed both boys roughly and ushered them into a similar crouch in the cover of a large oak tree nearby.

Silence.

Then, bursting over the summit of the hill, hurtling through the sky above, a winged monster, the sight of which froze Randyls blood in his veins. Even in the surrounding gloom it could be seen clearly with twin points of light illuminating its smooth grey underbelly from the tips of its unmoving wings. Easily larger than even two men standing atop one another but of a material which was contoured with smooth arcs along either side, it glided effortlessly through the air at a ferocious speed, a low humming emanating from it as it passed overhead and onward into the distance.

Then there was silence.

Nobody moved.

Eventually Ja'aris gave another arm signal and L'non relaxed his own arms which he had thrown protectively around the boys and stood, gazing into the sky after the winged creature.

"What kind of flying devil was that?" blurted Braxter when he eventually found his tongue.

"I know not but I have a feeling we may find out in time." L'non spoke quietly, almost to himself. "Come - we must press on."

Ja'aris, they saw, had crested the hill and they followed down the other side, caution slowing their pace now as they kept one eye on the sky above as they travelled. They soon passed the place where earlier they had been just boys fishing. Neither said a word but both knew that their lives had been changed in the last few hours and they wondered when it would be that they might enjoy such a simple activity again.

They walked on.

As they drew closer to their village Ja'aris no longer ranged so far ahead. Instead he led the way with Randyl and Braxter just behind him and L'non, in turn, following behind them. The night was cold and the air still, with none of the snow from previous nights but their breath still sent white plumes of fog before them as they walked.

They saw the glow lighting the sky before anything else and they took cover behind an isolated copse of trees. Several groups of these hardy, stubborn growths stood year upon year in the grounds surrounding Brookdale never seeming to grow or flourish but neither did they wither and die. Ageless, lifeless and most times completely ignored, Randyl was grateful for the protective cover they offered him now.