Airel - Aaron Patterson [20]
Looking around him, Kreios turned from the crude dirt road and trudged off into deeper snow, through the dormant undergrowth, into the forest. He could feel his baby girl breathing softly as she slept next to his skin. He knew she would be warm. The cold would not reach her there.
DO NOT DO IT! His inner voice screamed at him, warning him not to provoke the Brotherhood.
He stepped into a small clearing. Kreios shut his eyes, calmed his nerves, forced himself to be at peace. He listened carefully and looked around once more for any watchers, scanning the bleakness of the wood for a lone traveler, perhaps a merchant caravan traveling on the road far behind. After a moment, he satisfied himself and was certain that he was alone.
He looked down at his hands. They began to radiate; an internal glow cast itself against the bright snow behind. Turning his eyes upward, he bent into a crouch.
Kreios shot straight up into the sky and turned west, speeding as fast as a shooting star. All around his body the air waves formed the appearance of wings. Light trailed him as he shot across the sky.
Chapter XI
The wind was bitter cold. It sliced, knife-like, at the thick coat that covered the baby girl Kreios was holding tight to his chest. He touched down, soundless in a heavily wooded forest. He was just outside of Gratzipt, his brother’s village.
Stealing a glance at his daughter, he couldn’t help but smile and breathe her scent in deep. He was relieved and his heart calmed some when he saw that she was sleeping soundly.
It had felt so good to get back into the air! Flying was like a drug–with every draw the feeling grew stronger and more intense. With each flight, he could feel his need and hunger for the experience grow and, unlike any drug—it filled him with power.
He could feel a thousand chilling stares arrayed around him like weapons. His flight to Gratzipt was like a torch in the night to the Brotherhood, and he knew that he would be followed. What choice have I been given? Am I to watch my daughter perish? Am I to bury her in the cold ground as well? He did not know how they knew when his kind took flight. He did not know what mystic connection his kind had with the Brotherhood, but it was deep and unbreakable. He could feel blackness coming for him.
The Brotherhood had one goal—the destruction of the Sons of God.
Kreios remembered having lived in peace, walking the streets, dodging happy children’s games, listening to the sounds of their laughter. It had been safe. He and others like him were able to live unhindered, free. It had been so long ago…the memory was a vapor in his imagination. He sighed heavily.
He walked through the trees with smooth steps. His eyes closed partially as he looked around using his senses, aware of every creature that moved about the forest, every breeze. His ears heard the icy, subtle movements of the air and the muffled hard-packed crunch that his moccasins made in the snow as he walked.
Quaking aspens and ancient redwoods loomed above him as he came to the natural boundary of the woods. Beyond, the sky opened up into a long valley. In the summer it would have been filled with lush grasses, teeming with life. But winter held it firm within its clutches and nothing stirred; it was deadly quiet.
He scanned the small village of Gratzipt. It was not much different than his own. Quaint mud huts with thatched roofs dotted the valley randomly. Smoke rose from every one of them; the only hint of life or movement. At the center of the village, there was a much larger structure with a spire piercing the sky. It was the temple.
The temple, the marketplace square, and some other town buildings were built from hewn trees that were stripped, cut to length, and shaped. They fit perfectly together. This construction method had been proven