Airel - Aaron Patterson [39]
Gathering clouds filled the sky to the north. They were dark and thick with snow and frigid air. He knew that Maria could not make it far on horseback. The pass was very difficult terrain to ride, even for an experienced horseman. Kreios would need to find his old friend. The tables would turn. This is a matter of life and death now, Yamanu. I pray you can live up to your name.
Chapter XXI
They had reached the headwaters of the Two Rivers, and Kreios felt a pang of regret. He did not like parting ways with his brother and daughter so soon. He knew, though, if he did not find Yamanu they would never be able to make it to the safety of the City at Ke’elei. He had to do the one thing he did not want to do—leave his daughter yet again—but he had no other choice.
He sent his beloved brother a message in his thoughts, and it was returned with a blessing as well as a warning: “Be careful, brother! Remember you are only one, but they are many.”
The cool night sky flickered with stars beyond number, peering down into his soul as he walked in peace through darkened woods. Kreios had left his mighty horse with his brother. He would need to travel light for now. He decided to wait an hour before calling the enemy’s vision to himself, making the path clear for his family.
His old friend was called Yamanu. He was a Shadower. In another age, it was a very useful talent for combating seers, medicine men, and wizards. He could draw a shade over himself, or even a group, into which the enemy was not able to see.
Kreios grew up with Yamanu and could remember when they had learned to fly back home, where the streets were gold. Life under the sun provides such bitterness, and very little sweet.
Every member of the Arch race could fly, or at least were supposed to. Yamanu had not taken to it as well as the other boys. One day, he and Kreios stole to the entrance of the white tower, where only the warriors were permitted. Kreios had been twelve, Yamanu ten. The doors stood as tall as five men and were over an arm’s length thick, with iron bands running throughout like spider legs, holding them together. They heaved the doors open and walked into the darkness, closing them behind them with great effort. Shafts of light illuminated the circling stairway through windows as it led upward, beyond them.
None had ever ascended to the top of the white tower just to jump off and learn to fly. It was a lookout post for the army; the warriors. Without a doubt, Kreios and Yamanu were engaging in flight practice far before the Old Masters would have permitted. But Kreios had the heart of a king and nerves of steel. He was not content with the safer jump-off points where everyone else learned. At the tower’s top he felt as if he could regain the heavens long lost to his fathers.
“Come with me Yam, if you want to see things for what they really are! You will not be disappointed.” Kreios had run two steps at a time, with Yamanu close behind him. Kreios was not afraid of death. It was a foreigner to them in that age. The only ones who knew of death were characters in old tales. They had grown up hearing stories of the old battle scarred Ones, their fathers from very long ago, who fought in the Original War.
Kreios didn't even bother waiting for a response from his friend, for Yamanu was a quiet sort. He raced up the stairway, up and up, through the sunbeams, with the innocence of a little child.
The tower pierced the sky. Even clouds were sometimes dashed against its white stone walls and cleaved in two. It was a beacon, a great statement of daring just to stand upon its battlements, amongst the peaks of the mountains God had crowned with such glory. The tower had been cut from a single piece of pure marble countless years ago, and felt cool to the touch.
Yamanu came to a screeching halt when they reached the top and burst into the