Airel - Aaron Patterson [93]
The itch was more powerful than I remembered; I wanted to tear my own hand off in order to make it stop. Tiny fingers of flesh reached out and grasped one another like old friends. A patch was made, then the skin closed over. What blood was left I wiped on a nearby fern. Michael stared at me with his mouth hanging open.
“I am so showing that to all my friends,” he said with a look of utter amazement on his face.
“I don’t think so, mister. I’m not a party trick.”
“Duh, I was kidding. But you’ve gotta admit it: that’s the coolest thing ever!” His eyes sparkled as he looked at me with what I reckoned as newfound respect.
“Yeah, cool. But it’s also a secret. No spreading it around that your girlfriend can heal herself. All I need is a bunch of hormone-happy boys running around sticking me with knives and sticks just to see what will happen.”
He laughed in a manly way, making me giggle. “I won’t tell a soul.” He flashed me puppy dog eyes. “Scout’s honor!” He gave me the two fingered salute, making me laugh even more.
Chapter III
1250 B.C. Arabia
Kreios and Yamanu pulled up in midair, hovering high above the tree line. They conversed in thought.
“There, west of the lake, in the trees.” Kreios pointed to a thick stand of trees on the western edge of a long lake. It produced a tributary that wound down and around in the wide valley, finding its terminus in the sea, which was within sight at this altitude. Yellow flames of light danced within the darkness of the forest, and the sound of undisciplined voices could be heard bouncing across the still water.
“How many?” Yamanu pulled his hood up over his head and tied the leather thong under his chin.
“Eight hundred, maybe a thousand. More would have come if they knew about Ke’elei. I am surprised the Seer allowed them to have campfires… he has grown arrogant and foolish in his old age.” Kreios touched the Sword hilt and felt better at once.
Yamanu grunted audibly. “Maybe. Or, he knows something we do not. Caution and a solid plan will go a long way toward keeping us alive long enough to see beautiful Eriel grow up and marry.” His thoughts made colors of blue and red in Kreios’s mind. He did not know the meanings of every color, but he knew that it was never good if black or dark purple surrounded a particular thought.
“Find their weakness and exploit it.” Kreios donned his hood.
“Yes.”
“We may need some fog…” They cinched down their gear, double-checking that they would be silent, and turned toward the north side of the lake, downwind, to prepare their infiltration of the enemy camp.
They landed in knee-high grass silently, the enemy camp within sight. Kreios pulled a short dagger from its sheath, touching the grips of the Sword for comfort. “We must move with speed. The longer we are in their midst, the weaker we will become. I will signal when I feel my strength failing—”
Yamanu nodded, unsheathing a dagger of similar size and shape.
There are moments to which men and angels have been brought throughout their destinies that have shaped the paths they have walked forever afterward. Some have been ready for it when it came to call. Some have not, and possibility shifted irrevocably from that point forward. Kreios knew El to be jealously intrepid in His pursuit of the created, however. He would roadblock, shunt, redirect, nudge, push, pull, convince, debate, and tirelessly chase down His children within the circle of the destiny He had created for them until they grasped it.
Kreios knew that he could not ultimately miss his destiny—in a sense—but he knew that it was still possible to fail tonight. He determined, therefore, to rise to the occasion with his very life forfeit, if need be.
Kreios felt Yamanu turn to a deeper place that he could not access; the color of his thoughts turned bright white. The ground slowly began to cover with thick fog, which spread from them outward and rose