Airel: The Discovering (Airel Saga Book Two)

Chapter XII

Arabia—1250 B.C.

THE SEER PEERED INTO the red light pulsing from the Bloodstone, for in the midst of it was the answer for which he was searching. He was filled to brimming with black rage. Within his tortured mind, the staccato ringing of his Brother, his master, resounded: “Slave, fool. The Sword was within our power—and you failed to keep it.”

The face of the Seer became old and withered again. “I have not failed us. It is you who failed to foresee what Kreios would do—” He doubled over in mid-sentence as scalding pain ripped through his body. He coughed and spat, and thick blood boiled on the ground.

“Where are our nine spies? Have they returned?”

He was writhing in agony until this new thought opened his eyes.

He did not know where they were. They should have been back with prisoners by now. The Seer struggled to his feet, the pain ceasing. He pulled his hood up, hiding the countenance of the almighty Seer from curious eyes. He walked out from his tent into the night air. It was disgustingly fresh, even in the midst of their encampment.

On a distant hilltop, a small fire was dancing, sending its light up through the night sky. He could hear singing—the two escaped prisoners mocked him. No fool would sit and sing around a fire in plain view so soon after escaping from the horde army.

“And where are my nine?”

Yet there it was. No shouts. No sounds of battle. Only singing and the flicker of a campfire, star-like from this distance. The Seer growled, turned and grabbed his newest replacement captain of the guard. “Send twenty more Brothers with their hosts and bring me back the Sword. Kill anyone in the enemy camp and bring me their heads. Tell them not to return empty-handed unless they wish to die.” He spit out the words with so much hatred that some blood sprayed against the guard’s face.

“Yes, Master.” He scurried off and spread the word. In the next moment, twenty of the Brotherhood stood before the Seer, ready for battle. He waved his hand toward the firelight. The group moved out and disappeared into the forest.     

***

KREIOS AND YAMANU HAD made camp for the night on the rise of a small open hillock in perfect view of the enemy and had lit a fire, not worrying if horde scouts saw them or not. The idea was to attract some attention and leave a trail. Besides, they were hungry. Yamanu stirred a stew made from fresh herbs, select roots, and a grouse he had killed. They talked and sang in thanks to El with loud voices as the stew simmered.

Kreios, a resounding baritone, and Yamanu, a tenor, sang songs they used to sing as children before they left paradise. Their voices rang out clear and strong over the ravine, and reached all the way to the horde camp, making the patrols uneasy. Kreios knew there was power in the songs of angels.

Yamanu dipped his finger in the warm stew. A look of pure delight crossed his face as he touched it to his lips. “Wonderful, my friend. A few more moments, and we may even draw out the Seer with this fine stew.” Yamanu breathed in the aroma and closed his eyes, savoring the smell. They began to sing again.

***

THE BROTHERHOOD TWENTY MADE a clicking sound as their wings twitched. They found the nine that had been dispatched prior and joined them. The intelligence the nine had gathered confirmed that, indeed, there were only two angels. The horde contingent agreed to a multi-pronged attack on the escaped prisoners: they would surround them and destroy them.

Before long, the Seer could observe their black forms ascending the hillock against the far-off camp, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.