Airel - Aaron Patterson [72]
Anael smirked and turned aside dismissively in his seat. “Kreios, you speak as a fool. You are indeed the keeper, but the Sword belongs to us all. Even you must see that. If you lose it or are killed, we will be lost and our city will have no chance of defense. The enemy army will be here, as you say, in a day or two. Why attack them when we can prepare our own city and hold it when they come? After all, what is the purpose of the City’s great walls?”
“You are blinded by your own fear!” Kreios despised the weak of heart. “If we fight them away from the city we have a chance of keeping it secret. If they find it—where do you propose to rebuild? We will then be locked in perpetual war. Do you not remember why we live in hiding? Our last refuge will be under attack until everything about it has been snuffed into legend—including any of us unfortunate enough to be caught here.”
Kreios saw that this got through.
Anael looked at each member of the council with growing concern. Some, he could see, were swayed and he felt his grip on them slipping. He spoke, finality dripping from his voice. “We will prepare the city for war. I will give you a third of the army and enough Shadowers to hide you and your men. If you fail—we will defend the city with the rest of the army, and pray for El’s mercy.” He stood, declaring the council was done discussing this matter. Everyone stood and bowed. The council left the circle without a word.
Kreios stood, not as stunned as he probably should have been. He’s given us just enough to ensure our failure. He watched as the council departed.
The old oak, a hole torn in its canopy, symbolized the emptiness Kreios now felt. It fluttered majestically, moving regally with the breeze.
Zedkiel and Yamanu approached Kreios. Yamanu clapped him on the shoulder, grinning broadly. “When do we start?”
Zedkiel and Kreios were gazing thoughtfully at the hole in the tree’s branches overhead. “A third is not enough,” said Zedkiel, “But it is better than the three of us against the horde.” He was trying to be cheery.
Yamanu scoffed jokingly at them. “You two look like you’re on your way to eternal death. Do you not remember who you are?” His voice bubbled with joy. “Do I need to remind you? You are the Sons of God…”
Kreios and Zedkiel looked at him, and smiles began to break over their dark countenances.
“I will gather the best of my kind,” Yamanu said with a dark look on his face. “The old bat has much to fear. A third, two thirds—it matters not. Numbers are like gold to El. What we need will be provided for us.”
Kreios smiled at them both and said, “Muster the warriors. We depart soon. It is time now to teach this Seer to see fear in spirit and in truth.”
Chapter XI
Somewhere in the Mountains of Idaho, Present day
I was running. The faster I ran, the worse my fear became. The thing that pursued me grunted and howled with rage as it chased after me. I dared not look back, concentrating on digging into the rough terrain with my feet. I felt each power pulse of my cadence as I sprinted, tucked my head, and felt the resistance of muscle on bone.
I exploded into a clearing and a huge tree cast a demented shadow in front of it as if leading the way. I was running through the clearing toward a forest of impossible black trees with dark purple leaves.
I screamed as a clawed hand gripped my shoulder from behind, and I put on an extra burst of speed, tearing loose. A slice of my flesh was taken from me as hot pain ran into my shoulder. The evil looking forest loomed two hundred feet ahead, possibly within my reach. I felt I would be safe there from whatever was determined to get me.
“Airel… Airel…” The voice was guttural and sweet at the same time, taking on the characteristics of the beast as well as my own conscience. The dark woods parted in a curtain and I dove through. I landed on hard shale and skidded to a stop, opening up new wounds in my back. I clambered to my feet.
I turned and