The Clan of Outcasts [Season 3]

Part 33: "You Must Survive"

The Kingdom of Gybralltyr, Many Years Ago....

The sky held its rosy hue as the detachment of winged soldiers alighted amid piles of dense fog surrounding the towers. What was once a thriving, bustling community lay dormant and silent. Two scouts combed the eastern zone, checking on the buildings, searching for something.

The younger one spoke.

"What are we searching for, exactly?" he asked his superior.

The other Angel, a tall and broad figure who wore his dark hair tied back in a tail, never left off gazing carefully in each corner. "This attack was premeditated too far in advance, and the invaders gave up too quickly. Juros wants us to check and make sure they didn't leave something behind."

"Oh." His charge nodded and resumed poking at any small piles he saw with the butt of his spear. He didn't even notice when the Angel he followed walked away down a side street.

"Allhenn!" The elder barked, and the young Angel snapped to attention.

"Yes, sir!"

"Grab the other end of this, would you?" He braced himself under a fallen rooftop. Allhenn grabbed the other side, and the two Angels lifted off with powerful strokes of their wings, lifting the rooftop back onto the building. Once they had secured all sides of it, they resumed their searching.

Allhenn fluttered his wings a little as they made their way deeper into the city, among the steep cliffs supporting tall towers scattered among the city.

"Gemmar, can I ask you something?" Allhenn began.

Gemmar nodded. "Ask away."

Allhenn reeled as he pulled aside a sagging curtain and found the crumpled remains of a body underneath. He gazed at his supervisor with a pained look in his eye. "What went wrong, here? Shouldn't these people be under Juros' especial protection? I mean," he gestured upward with his thumb, to the tallest cliff where stood the highest building in the city. "All things considered," he muttered.

Gemmar sighed and helped Allhenn arrange the body. They used the curtain as a burial shroud, wrapping it around the person, and tying the corners together.

"They are protected," Gemmar said in a low voice. "Why else would Juros send us down to the mortal plane?"

Allhenn frowned. "What about non-interference?" A gust of wind shook his golden curls. "Aren't we supposed to remain unseen by the mortals, as we Gift them from a distance--isn't that the sort of defense He assigned us for?"

Gemmar wagged his head. "Gybralltans cannot be Gifted," he reminded his young charge. He pointed to a few other bodies strewn about the building, slaughtered where they stood. Some were Gybralltans, and a few were the fallen soldiers of the invading human army. "Look at the difference between those of Gybralltar and the size of the regular mortals. Juros chose this place for his Seat, his holy city, because Gybralltans could live in peace and harmony, away from those cruel, violent, aggressive humans who need Gifts as much to learn how to help one another, as also to protect themselves from each other. Gybralltans had no need for Gifts."

Allhenn snorted and launched upward to readjust a fallen chain connecting the tall tower with one built on the ground. "If they're so peaceful," he murmured, "why did the humans attack them?"

Gemmar swept aside a pile of rubble, with a flap of his wings. His hands smoothed over the stains and blotches on the stonework, restoring the bricks to their former glory. "It is incredible that they could even find a place so remote as Gybralltyr," murmured the Angel, "but I heard the tale from Iarleth, the Shadow who witnessed the beginning of the conflict."