Airel (11 page)

Chapter XXIII

1250 B.C. Arabia

Kreios flew high in the evening sky, just under the low-hanging clouds that were forming on the western mountains; a fortress of jagged black rock peaks.

He did not have time to stop until he found the Shadower. Pulling his shoulders back, he poured all of his energy into the increase of speed, breaking the sound barrier and leaving a powerful sonic boom in his wake. 

Kreios touched down with a crack of static electricity on the doorstep of his old friend Yamanu, who sat on the front porch of his shack. He was in a wooden rocking chair, smoking a pipe, and probably, Kreios thought, dreaming of the old days in another world. Kreios walked up the three creaky steps, took a seat next to his friend, and sat down without a word.

Kreios took out his own pipe, filled it, and it lit without the assistance of fire. He drew on it slowly, allowing time to savor the sweet, relaxing smoke. It tasted like serenity. It was wholly unlike anything mankind had ever known. He let the smoke roll out of his mouth like a waterfall and curl up on his chest, drifting slowly down, draping him in a cloak. He leaned back to gaze at the stars with his old friend. 

Yamanu did not look his age. He had a full white beard and a bald head that shone in the moonlight. He was lean, just as he was as a kid, and a dark aura hovered around him; a shadow. “I have been waiting for this day,” he said, breaking the silence. Both of them still looked ahead at the stars, not at one another. “You come with haste.” Then, Yamanu turned to regard his old friend and said, “I know why.” He took a long drag from his pipe and looked back up to the heavens, regarding the stars.

“Do you, indeed?” Kreios looked at him. “My daughter is in great danger, old friend, and we must take her to the mountains of Ke’elei.”

Yamanu turned, looking with wonder at Kreios. “The City of Refuge.” He sighed. “This is more than I had imagined.” He paused again and looked at the ground. The smoke was pooling at their feet, fusing itself to the shadow that clung to him always, in symbiosis. “Tell me, is it true that your wife is dead?”

Kreios had to take a moment. His hands were trembling as he nodded, “It is true.”

Yamanu reached a hand to Kreios’s shoulder, touching him affectionately. The tears around his eyes mingled with a furrowed brow. “I am sorry, my old friend. She was a pure heart.” There was only a moment more of silence and consideration until a fire was lit within the eyes of the Shadower and his decision was made.

Yamanu stood. “We must go.” He descended the rickety steps and began walking briskly in a little circular track that signified nervous energy. “I can feel your urgency,” he said; then paused, looking to the west. “With that westerly wind, I fear the Seer is closer than you might have guessed.”

Kreios stood and came close. Yamanu moved behind him with agility and spoke in a whisper, “I will fight with you to the death, my friend.” Then he added playfully, “I will also beat you into the sky!” Yamanu was a rocket, gone in an instant, leaving Kreios looking up at his light trail with a smile. Kreios bent his legs, launched, and shed a sonic boom almost instantaneously. 

It was the beginning of the end, they both felt that. Even as the world slept, unaware of the existence of the monsters and incredible beings living amongst them, Kreios knew that what was destined to happen would change everything.

Chapter XXIV

Boise, Idaho. Present day.

Kim and I sat in the third row of the bleachers under the mild late-September sun. The football team was running drills for an upcoming game. Borah liked to win more than anything else. 

Coach Dennis was a machine. If he had his way, the football team would practice all year long. Football was his life. He was short and pretty fit for an old dude. The man had arms the size of most men’s legs...  gross. 

He stood with his feet spread apart like he was gonna swing a sword or something. Every once in a while he blew a whistle, commanding the attention of everyone on the field, as well as a few in the stands. He barked out a few orders and the guys began running wind sprints. 

I watched the bigger ones lag behind the other guys, like James and Michael, who seemed born for it. I wondered, as they killed themselves for their conditioning, why guys pushed themselves so hard for a
game
. It was just a stupid ball. They fought and clawed their way up and down the field over it, thinking they looked impressive, then what? 

I had to admit I didn’t get it, but it was kinda fun to watch all the same. I tuned Kim out—she was talking my ear off–and watched Michael run the field back and forth, up and down, in perfect rhythm to some hidden clock that he alone could feel. He moved like a cat, light on his feet; and quick–much quicker than the rest of the team. 

“Did I tell you that James asked me out the other day? We’re going to see a movie. Oh, no wait... maybe that’s not such a good idea.” She looked at me as if I was made of glass. “Well, he said he had the perfect place in mind for dinner. I hope it’s that new Brazilian place. I hear that you need a reservation just to get in. Gosh, he’s so strong! Just look at him run!” She gave a lovesick sigh and I gave her a sisterly look that said, ’If you keep this up I’m gonna barf on your shoes.’
Who knows? Maybe I will.

Michael glanced up at me as he ran by, flashing me a little smile that gave me shivers. I was not entirely sure I should even be allowing this kind of thing. How is it possible to know someone for such a short time and feel like this? If Dad, or even Mom, knew how I felt... wow. Danger. I looked at Kim. I guess I had to take the plunge. 

“I have news of my own, but you have to promise not to make a big deal out of it...  I mean it.” I knew that it was like asking an addict to quit cold turkey, but I had to try.

“Michael asked you out, didn’t he?” Kim had a look of glee stamped on her face and the look on mine must have been confirmation. “I knew it! He asked you out! Yesss!” She made the same gesture I had made in the car, like she had just scored a touchdown. “I was hoping he would, and he is sooo hot! Oh my gosh!” Then she looked alarmed. “You said yes, didn’t you? You had better have said yes, or I’ll kill you.” 

Death by Kim. Chalk up another murderous stalker.
How many does that make now?
I nodded and shook my head in defeat, grinning helplessly. “Kim, it’s not like I could have said no…”

“Oh, Airel! I’m so excited! You and Michael, and me and James, we can go on, like, double dates! And hang out and talk about stuff! Oh my gosh! We should go shopping and get a new outfit for our first official dates of the school year!”

Seriously, I don’t know what I did to deserve this. My best friend was going to drive me insane with the shopping and the—and the—my mouth went dry and my lips felt like they were thick, swollen shut from lack of water. I sat straight up, my back stiff, and all the tiny hairs on my neck and arms sounded the alarm. Across the field on the visiting team’s bleachers sat a blond haired man with black sunglasses hiding his evil eyes. 

Kim felt me tense up and stopped talking. “Uh-oh. Do you need a barf bag?” Then she followed my gaze across the green grass to the man in the far bleachers. “Who is that?” Kim asked in a whisper. She pushed her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose and peered out.

I tried to respond, but I couldn’t because my mouth was so dry. A wave of raw heart-stopping fear rushed over my body. Kim was ditzy, but not dumb. She touched my arm, leaned over close to me, and whispered in my ear—so softly, I almost missed it, “It’s him!”

It was him. He was right there. He was watching me. Watching with careful consideration and…something else. He knew. He knew that something was wrong with me. He wanted to see what it was. Or, maybe…he wanted to see what I would do. Maybe he wanted to scare me into silence. 

If he wanted to scare me, it was working. I was so scared that my hands were shaking. I felt weak.
Oh, neat. Here’s something new and impossible. I totally need more of that.
I saw it happening. It wasn’t slow-mo, not like a movie at all. This was real. The seat of the bleacher below came at my face shockingly fast and I knew this was going to hurt later.

Chapter XXV

I opened my eyes to see a black sky. The sun above was enclosed in a womb of smoke and smog. I saw jagged rocks the color of coal sticking up from the ground below at sickening angles. 

I was in what looked like a huge bird cage, except this one was square and made of rough iron bars with a plank floor. I could see that I was high above the ground in a tall and ancient tree.

I looked out over the vast valley beyond the black rocks. Row upon row of mountain ranges were stacked against each other, rising and falling. The distance beyond me seemed to be impassable, even if I could get out of this cage. It was another world. It was so dark and so dead that nothing grew or lived. This ground was cursed–even the sun wore a cloak. 

I thought I was dreaming but the bump on my head proved to me that I was somehow…not. I did indeed pass out and eat the bleachers. I didn’t know quite how to explain it to myself. Wherever I was though, it was not beautiful. The air had a chill as a slight breeze made its way through the iron bars, making me shiver. There was no way in or out, as far as I could see. 

I stood, and felt my little cage sway back and forth, bobbing up and down as I shifted my weight. I froze. I was hanging.  I peered out through the bars to see that my cage was wedged between a couple of branches, balanced on them. Maybe if I got too jumpy it would topple over, causing me to plummet to my death. 

I wondered then, if I died in this dream or in this world, would I be dead in the real world? Maybe I was in a hospital right now, with a nasty cut on my head, and the doctors were trying to revive me from a coma.

I made my way slowly to the center. The whole thing groaned with each step. Long fat floorboards spanned from one end of the room to the other. I counted twelve across. Each one was held in place with rusty nails. 

Not wanting to fall to my death in some crazy dream world only to find out that was where I would spend eternity, I stopped and looked around for something—anything I might have missed that could help. 

I figured if there was one rule for this situation, it was simply this: do whatever needed to be done. I really didn’t know what to do, though. Nothing came to mind other than one stupid, harebrained thought.
Maybe death is the way out…in a dream…

I heard pages turning and that strange, seemingly friendly voice in the back of my brain whispering to me. Now I could pick it out from my other more normal thoughts. In other words, I could tell when something wasn’t Airel. It was like this tiny yet powerful voice that I couldn’t push to the background. I had to listen.

“Be careful, Airel, things are not what they seem.”

I ran toward the bars of my cage and slammed my shoulder into it, grunting as I did. It hurt. My little cage rocked, groaning in protest, and I felt my world turning horribly. I could feel the rhythm of the swinging I had created and decided to exploit it. I pushed hard, throwing my weight into the wall. The cage leaned crazily on its side and I looked straight down to the sharp daggers of rock below. I felt a lurch and heard the snap of dead branches as the huge old tree gave up its grip.

I was falling.

The cage tumbled, turning over and over, and flashes of black shards reached up for me from below. It was all happening too fast. I screamed, hoping but dreading that someone would hear me crying out for help. Deep down I knew there was no one that
could
help me. 

The ancient tree had to be over two hundred feet tall; it took an eternity to hit the ground. The explosion of wood was deafening at impact and the clang of iron against stone ran right over my ears, drowning me out as I screamed. 

Then there was pain. This couldn’t be a dream. The impact hurt badly, and to my surprise I was injured. I supposed that was a good thing because, if nothing else, it meant I was alive. I lifted my head, which was pounding like a church bell on Sunday, and surveyed the destruction. 

The bird cage had left wooden shrapnel in a radius around me. Some of the bars lay at my feet, twisted and bent. 

I checked myself for damage and found that I did have a problem. My left arm was broken, hanging, and ripped almost completely off at the elbow. Blood squirted out with each heartbeat and I could see the bone sticking out like a tooth. Blood ran down my arm and dripped off my dead fingers.

I was going to bleed to death.

The panic I thought would come never did, though the pain was so sharp and overpowering I could feel myself going into shock. This was it. I was dying, and in a matter of minutes I would be dead in this godforsaken place. I would die alone and confused, not knowing how or why I was here, or where here even was.

Then, I felt something cast a thin shadow over me. A thick wave of nausea washed through my stomach. I was sitting in the pile of debris I had made, holding my wrecked arm in place with my good one, my back turned to whatever was standing behind me. 

I could smell the stench of rotten flesh and mold. It was so strong I could taste it in my mouth, making me want to spit it out. It was vile.

The sound of clicking and gurgling sent shivers down my spine. I didn’t want to look. But I had to know. Something within me was demanding that I turn to face whatever was there. I turned. What I saw made me wish for death.  

The
thing
had a long black cloak with a massive hood pulled low. All that could be seen in the darkness were two dark red glowing eyes. Something wet and slimy dripped from the lip of the hood and made a puddle at its feet. I was frozen in fear, staring at it, unable to look away. 

It reached up slowly with white and withered hands and pulled the hood back to reveal a dark mass of nothingness; an empty void where the face should be. It managed a grotesque smile in spite of this, staring down at my arm, drooling clotted slime all over the front of its robe, leaving a long stinking stain. 

I felt something move by my leg and jumped with fright. I wrenched my gaze away from the figure before me to find my fingers brushing against my leg. My arm was whole again. The blood had dried and I let go of my arm, stretching it out to test it. It was good as new, as if it had never been broken, gushing blood, or hanging by a thread of flesh. I flexed and wiggled my fingers. There was no shooting pain; not so much as a scar was left where the bloody mess had been.

The thing screeched like a dying owl and splattered me with brown snot and slime. I recoiled and crouched down, ready for the attack. It came right at me, and I reached out to resist the monster. But as soon as I did a bolt of lightning exploded between us, throwing me backward. I landed some distance from the screeching thing. I saw it coming toward me with unreal speed and a huge black rock in its withered white hands. It raised the rock overhead, meaning to crush me. I rolled, but not fast enough. The rock caught me on the side of my head, crushing the right side of my face. 

I saw bright white light and the strange world vanished painfully.