EYS - Chapter 2

Darkness again, and stale air, cool soft metal beaten down ages ago in fire and heat to form what he felt now, a soft pulling drawing out shortly and then a light zip and clang as it was released. The enclosed room was stuffy and Shateiel’s breath caught a bit in his lungs and a light sweat made the back of his black long-sleeved shirt damp. He’d be glad of the warmth of his clothes when he was out in the sky with the ferocious wind beating upon him and the cold air of the rising altitude but all the same the lack of air and a fresh breeze proved almost unbearable to him his heart already racing from excitement mixed with anxiety, and fear...

He wet his lips swallowing back his nervousness. It was not the same. Reality was not the same as a dream, he had been trained a thousand years and never once had he crashed or fallen. He was the top of the class. Isn’t that why, even at his young age, he had been recruited for the war? Shateiel closed his eyes pushing his hair back from his face in frustration at himself.

A draft hit his back, air was coming into the room, he heard the creak of the door and saw light spill in from behind him casting his long shadow across the floor, a thin voice meekly entered the air, “Shatei...”

Shateiel turned seeing who he had reluctantly expected, “Belial...” his voice trying to form a reproaching tone only turned soft in seeing his younger sister, her pale blonde hair down past her waist and large soft blue eyes with a slight purple tint in them looked up at him with a twisted, mischievous smile upon her lips. He cocked his head to the side frowning, she knew she wasn’t allowed, as a young girl, in the Glinter Hangars especially when they were only too soon to be released to battle.

Belial hurried forward hugging him, inhaling his familiar grass smell which he was so often found laying in she half associated it with him. “I had to say goodbye Shatei, what if I never see you again?”

“You’d probably better off,” Shateiel mused half jokingly, “I’d say go be hugging Rapheal, he’s the pride and joy of the family, and you could probably embarrass him a lot. Getting hugs from his little sister...”

Belial made a face, “That’s why I came to see you instead of him...”

“Don’t bother, you hugging me or not I’d still be laughed at.”

“I don’t want to embarrass anybody! I just want to say goodbye to someone who’d actually want me to! Besides, I got you a present.”

“A present? Oh come on, this is embarrassing!” Shateiel rolled his eyes but could help grinning, teasing his little sister brought his mind off everything else and he relaxed a bit.

“No, no... Look!” Belial pulled a thin silver chain from her pocket and unraveled it the pendant attached to it dropping down, a small intricately detailed feather shining in the dim light from the open doorway. The only object of value that was in their house before it burned, his father, Jezebel’s pendant, supposedly a gift from the High Angel Michael himself. Or at least as far as Rapheal’s memories of the stories his father told of the Higher Heavens went.

“You’re not giving that to me. You never take it off!”

“Well I did now. For you, Shateiel. So the High Angel Michael may look down upon you and bless you with good luck on your journey and good fortune in the War!”

“The High Angel Michael could care little to nothing about the Low Angel Shateiel and his poor luck.”

Belial’s arms reached around his neck, stubbornly putting the clasps of the necklace into place with each other, “Well be gentlemanly and take it anyway as a gift from a Lady to Lord.”

Shateiel looked down at the pendant laying on his chest and smiled, “You over exaggerate but thank you my sister. I will think of you.”

“And I you.”


**********



Sweat poured down every crevice of his body and his breath came hard and heavy as he stepped out of the small but thick patch of woods. His shortcut had turned out to be less than convenient, his gloves were torn and stained with blood where brambles had found their way into his fingers. Though it was mid fall the sun beat down hard and heavy and the furs and thick layers he wore, though they kept him warm on his trek down the mountainside were sweltering him at the moment. He knew a strong cold front was coming in from the west but the clothes were heavy and got in the way. Besides, he liked the cold. Dante let them fall to the ground fanning his thin white shirt against himself to produce a feeble breeze.

He pushed a hand through his damp hair and picked up his supply bag pulling it back upon his shoulders continue his trudging walk head down to the ground in order to prevent him from tripping on the tenacious rocks that lay hidden in the tall field of grass asking him to trip upon them and begging for another stubbed toe.

Dante looked up stopping dead in his tracks. A sound lifted through the air high and soft. Voice floating in song and dead in front of him, with it’s back turned towards him was the strangest creature he had ever laid eyes on sitting plain on a large rock near a small stream. It was very much like a man, a little smaller and thinner in places, yet larger in others, the noise it made was softer as well. It played with it’s long hair, an odd yellow color, braiding and unbraiding it and continuing it’s strange chanting. He had heard of these things before, yet, he had never seen one with his own eyes. At an instant Dante knew what it was. It was a woman.

The Uray made contact with women only seldom enough to mate. When the woman had the child it was most likely a boy which would stay with his mother until he was four when his father would bring him back to the Cave of Crystals to be trained. Only boys would inherit the gene that allowed the gift to See the Future, a woman had not been seen in the Cave for decades. Dante himself had never laid eyes upon his mother or any other female for that matter. Yet...

A large sword was at his throat, the woman was facing him, deep blue eyes searing into him, her face twisted with anger and voice seething, “...Pervert.”

Dante’s hand moved to his dagger, and his lips stood parted to let any spell fall from them yet he only stood paralyzed looking into this woman’s face, he took a wary step back away from her but she only commenced to move forward to him her sword pressing harder against his throat.

“What were you doing watching me?” her face darkened more, mouth forming into a cold hard line, body ready at any second to lunge her heavy sword through his throat should he make any other move.

“I-I-I....” he found he could only stutter nothing, and no reason for him to be watching her came to his mind, for he could not think why he had been in the first place. Again he stepped back and again she moved forward, lunging like a panther towards him sword pressed deep enough now that drops of red blood stood out upon his white skin. The plain violent malice on her face was like nothing he had seen before, never among his people, yet somehow he found the ability to speak, and when he did it was with all the precision, grace, and politeness that had been drilled in him from years of etiquette. “I apologize... I did not mean to be looking upon you nor loitering behind you...” his words became lost and drifted away as his mind raced for what to call her, nothing came and he could only continue, “I lost my way is all. I’m not sure of, the right direction, towards... Where I am going.”

She blinked and stared at him, some of the hardness leaving her face she lowered her sword an inch. He didn’t look much like the men she had run into before, in fact, he looked little like any man she had ever seen before. She quickly sized him up as a little older than herself, damp almost shocking white hair, and skin that would be near as pale if not for painful patches of sunburn spread out over his skin. Another thing tipped her a bit; his eyes were as yellow as the sun on a hot summer day, a circlet of silver lay in between messy strands of hair, and he was dressed all in white. If nothing else, he was not from these parts, certenaitly not from Lousmon, maybe not even from Gaulsabis; she lowered her sword farther, he could not be lying.

Her lip curled at him, she was not putting her guard down yet, “Where are you going?”

“Lousmon, to meet... A client.” his voice softened with the words and filled with a tinge of shame at his predicament his eyes finding their way back to the ground.

The woman stepped back over to the rock she previously sat upon saying nothing she sheathed her broad sword pulling the belt around her hips and clasping it then made a point of looking through her bag as Dante looked at her in uncertainly. A few silver qu’ats lay in the bottom of her bag from her last job, and she knew there were a few more at home, as well as some food. But...

“Directions are not free.”

Dante blinked and his mouth twitched to one side his eyes going to the ground back up at her, he pulled his pack off kneeling to the ground with it as he sought out his money. She stepped closer silently her eyes speculating the amount of money he had and watched him as he stood and palm opened.

“Will this be enough?” Three silver ki’ats lay on his pale hand.

“No.” He had more, she knew it. Not only that but he seemed ignorant and easy to do her bidding, yet still she saw a frown form on his face and look of slight stubbornness and the will to argue flash through his eyes. He bent down though, and retrieved another ki’at from his bag placing it on her palm in consent.

“For your name.” his yellow eyes looked into hers.

“Kathleen.” she frowned staring at him with no intention of asking of his.

“Is that enough?”

“Exactly.”


***************



Harsh wind beat into his face. At this altitude, it was icy cold, stinging into the very pores of his skin; and at this speed enough to create so much turbulence against his Glinter that it took every last bit of his concentration to keep it steady and on course. These early winter months were well known for their harsh winds from the West, inconveniently in the direction they were going. Yet, Shateiel knew he had to keep up with the others, if he were ever going to be looked at as an asset rather than a nuisance.

From his tinted goggles he could see the sky was cloudy, overcast, no ray of light peaked through the harsh mass of moving gray. The wind whistled through his numb ears and carried his long ponytail of black hair in whirlwinds of it’s own behind him.

His warm fingers in their heavy leather gloves moved to get a better grasp on the leather straps attached to the short metal cords he used to control the Glinter, trying his best to get it into a better position to create some sort of wind resistance, as the did others in his small group. He studied this flying machine, with nothing else to study so high in the air on a sunless morning. It’s smooth silky metal seemed to gleam, even on such a day as this, the metal flowed together smoothly, as if it’s shape had been worked through from one large piece rather than millions of paper thin sheets of the special light weight metal. Regular metal, beat thin with spells cast upon it to promote strength and lightness. To recall his old history lessons, the first Glinter prototype was constructed by the lost High Angel Gabriel, a master craftsman and mage, and all the same... Lost. It had been improved upon through generations, now full in use by Angels, the Uray, those who currently took rule in the Castle of Atlantis, and regrettably, Demons, had also use of Glinters.

Such these flying machines, which ate the wind and used it for energy. Age old spells put into their structure. Yes, it took a skilled craftsman, as well as a skilled mage to make these, and so only 30 remained in the world, not to count those of the Demons‘.

“We’re nearing Die Insel Nahst zu Holle, slow down.”

In sequence the Angels took harsher control over the Glinters and they did slow down. This is not where the battle was to be fought, and they did not want to start of prematurely. Though the Demons lived under the ground of the Island, there were any number of forts on the surface where Demons may be watching.

“Underground...” Shateiel thought. Quiet the opposite of Angels, whose Island rose up over the water and to the sky. Yet, the Angels on earth would always try to near themselves to Heaven, as the Demons would always try to near themselves to Hell.


****************



Her chair thumped back against the wall with a bang as she leaned; one heavy boot against her makeshift table and a small meal of bread and butter in her stomach. Kathleen closed her eyes, she’d have to find some more food somewhere, bread just wasn’t satisfying her anymore. Her tongue peeked out over the corner of her lip, what she would do for some fresh fruit or meat.

Sounds carried their way through the woods up to her tree house. Her eyes opened shiftily. Travelers. Stepping outside her house she looked to the sky, nearing evening, she hoped they would stay for the night. Travelers either carried good food or good gold and stealing was one of her finest abilities.

She hopped from tree to tree, careful to make no noise and finally slid down a trunk to crouch in the undergrowth. Creeping up to a bush, she heard the voices, a rough, loud, man’s voice, and another voice, also man’s but it seemed so slightly... Familiar. She caught a peek from her hiding place, confident that she would not be seen. A smile crept upon her face, they had stopped and her eyes rested on a large, heavy set man, broad chested and bearded, only what she would expect from such a voice. The other... She gasped staring, it was that boy she had met that morning. She scowled, that weird boy with the white hair that only seemed to catch shades of blue in it. Kathleen neared closer for a better look and to catch some of their conversation.

The boy was, in fact, tied to the man’s plain brown horse. This, she could only smirk at, though, he obviously looked worn out and his wrists looked burnt from the rope. It served him right at least, to be staring at her like he was, a scowl came over her face again.





The man’s calloused hands pulled the final knot tighter, rendering his horse unable to move any farther. He stood and looked at the soon to be setting sun down low on the horizon, the sky darkening and rays of light shining in his eyes. In the distance, the faint sound of running water splashing over rocks was heard. A good spot to camp, he wagered.

“We rest here. I look for water. You stay. Go nowhere”

Dante blinked, the man’s words were ridiculous. He was tied to a horse that was tied to a tree that was rooted firmly into the ground. In his current predicament, the likelihood of him going anywhere was blatantly impossible. The man seemed to be slightly mad though, people avoided him in the city and only talked to him with the utmost careful respect. Though, anger was set deep into his chest, to be tied to a horse like some sort of pack mule, to be a Seer to this barbaric human was almost more than his dignity could take. He could only whisper, “Alright.”

The man gave him a hard suspicious glance out of his small pig-like eyes and trudged off towards the stream in a slow bearish gait.

His legs felt like jello, and the length of the rope wasn’t allowing him to sit. He leaned his head tiredly against the horses sweaty hide as it munched on grass, it too glad to be resting. Trying to struggle out of the ropes was futile, the man had knotted them and double knotted them, and knotted them again. He’d only damage his aching wrists more. Hunger formed more knots inside of him, his bag being confiscated and his side throbbed dully from his first lesson on who was going to be master in this relationship.

Eyes scanned the horizon where the man had gone, the sun was quickly setting now in the winter months, he didn’t know how long he was going to have to walk each day, and just how mad this man was. His predicament was not a good one, and he would rather be on kitchen duty than here right now.

A scuffle in the grass came from behind him and he turned as sharply as he was able. A woman scrambled up out of the grass and pulled some twigs out of her blonde hair and then gave him a piercing look.

“Kathleen?” he whispered.

She only continued to scowl at him, then made her way to the packs on the ground, digging through them, putting this and that into her own pockets and rucksack. Smiling, she pulled out some dried meat and ripped off a piece with her teeth chewing it, and stuck it in her half full bag and stood looking Dante up and down. It was amusing of course, she had sensed he was in some sort of higher social class from his pale skin and clothes and for a noble to be tied to horse seemed drastically funny. But... She also spotted a stain of blood red across the side of his white shirt.

“What happened to you?” she asked still chewing on her rich meat.

Dante coughed, “The man I’m with didn’t find my answers to his questions satisfying.”

“I don’t suppose you’d want me to set you free?” her voice wavered over to him dryly her arms crossed uncaringly.

“No, I get kicks out of being tied to horses.”

“Alright, then” she started to walk off slinging her pack over her shoulder.

“No, wait.... I’m sorry. I would be.... Overly obliged if you would.”

Kathleen turned to look at him, he had been smart to her but... He had also given her more money than she had deserved for simple directions. Regretfully, not even odd looking rich boys deserved to be stabbed and tied to horses. She walked back over to him pulling a knife out of her boot and sawed through his binds.

Freed, Dante sunk to his knees gratefully, “Thank you.” he whispered.

“Yeah, whatever.” she scowled at him.

The man’s heavy footsteps broke through the tall grass back to camp and Kathleen fled back into the woods. He appeared in the campsite and clunked the heavy bucket brimming with stream water to the ground it sloshing over dampening the earth. His eyes widened seeing Dante with no ropes around him and blinked in amazement.

“How’d you get out of those?”

“My... Powers...?” Dante’s eyes flitted around the campsite looking for some immediate escape cursing himself for staying around as long as he did when he was free.

The man’s hands roughly grabbed his face, twisting his head around and holding his cheeks between his dirt covered fingers hard enough to bruise. “What’d you See?”

“Some birds... A rabbit or two...”

He was smacked to the ground, landing hard on his injured side the pain searing through him like ten more knives entering his side. The man was quickly on top of him holding his arms down, his rough, ugly face close to his own and the stink of unwashed body and unwashed clothes lay strong in his nose. Dante wished he had not picked up on his cousin’s way of acting smart to others. Sarcasm was getting him nowhere this day.

The man’s putrid breath like so many rotting fish seeped out of his mouth as he spoke, sneering, “What did you See?” his voice was now hard and rough in anger and Dante knew this man, being mad, would not hesitate nor have any regrets of killing him.

“I Saw nothing” Dante answered truthfully, “I cannot make myself have visions. They just happen.”

“You lie. I’ll make you tell me!” the man produced a rusty dagger from his boot holding it dangerously close to his throat.

“Wait!” A plan started to form in Dante’s head. “Take me to the stream bed. My visions are stronger near water. Make camp there.”

The man’s eyes glinted like a weasel’s seeing a shiny object to carry off to it’s nest and he raised himself up off of Dante’s body with some effort making his way to put the packs back on the horse’s back and untie it. Grabbing Dante’s wrist he led him to the stream bed the sun making the three figures a silhouette on the plain as a figure crept silently and unnoticed behind them.




“This good?”

Dante’s eyes scanned over the small stream, swallowing. It was moving rapidly for it’s name and seemed to be a foot or so deep, the near black sky casting a deep darkness over it as it rose to capture the last red and gold streaks of the fading sunset.

“Yes.” He found his voice sounding hallow and cold. His plan was nowhere near the best, and now that they had arrived here he was having second thoughts of the likelihood of pulling it. As well as the consequences if he could not. But, he had to get back to the Cave of Crystals, untruthful to it’s name or no, it was his home and the warm feeling of being safe seemed ages away. He knew his uncle had little love for him, but he could not have meant for this to happen to him. He couldn’t have.

“Now tell me,” the man’s voice seethed through the darkening air, standing only a foot away from him. “What you saw.”

Dante edged towards the horse giving it a soft pat on the neck as he discretely judged the man’s size, shape, and weight. Suddenly, he crept very close to the man looking him straight up into the eye, taking on the familiar distant voice of those who Saw.

“I See. I see darkness in your path. Dark and cold. Running. Flying. Washing over you.” he continued to look at the man deeply as he edged closer to him entrancing him, his breathe let fog out before him in the cold evening. “You cannot escape it. You do not fear it, yet. But it lingers before you not an inch away. You wish you could ignore it but it is there, there it is. So close, so very, very close.” He took another step his hands laying ever so gently on the man’s chest his lips parted bending his head up towards the man cocking his head so slightly to the side his voice taking on a yearning tone, “But, you must accept it. You must accept the punishment for your actions. Your crimes. You will. You will not.”

Dante’s fingers clenched onto the rough fabric of the man’s shirt grabbing hold tightly, all of his force reaching down into his very fingertips and he hurled the man across into the ice cold stream. The man let out a scream in horror, it etching through the night like the squawking of frightened crows. He thrashed about violently his own terror coming over him, if not from the water but from Dante’s cold prophecy.

“You will. I Saw.” Dante quickly mounted the horse and turned as a faint giggling came from behind him.

Terror filled his own eyes at the prospect of this man having an accomplice. But, only Kathleen stepped from the bushes as the man staggered to his feet realizing he wasn’t drowning in a river of ice but only thrusting about madly in a shallow stream. Crazy anger filled his eyes, hearing the mocking laughter, a familiar and cold sound to him. He lunged towards Kathleen burning in anger and reaching out for her throat.

Kathleen backed away slowly, eyes widening as the man lunged towards her and found herself being pulled up. She struggled to get a grasp on her surroundings and found herself grabbing onto Dante, now on the back of a horse racing across the plain at full speed only his own pack left on it’s back. Her head twisted behind her squinting in the black night at the man giving feeble chase to them now yards away and the distance spanning farther. With common sense and no intention of jumping off a horse going such a speed she could only find herself hanging onto to Dante’s back in bitter silence and planning the evil things she’d say to him once they arrived at whatever destination he found pleasing.



****************



A fog surrounded him, a heavy cold one, so thick he couldn’t see but a few yards in front of him. Fog was a dangerous thing so close to Die Insel Nahst zu Holle... To not be able to see where you were going, who was in front of you, behind you, or to the side of you in the sky. This, of course was probably a generous gift from the Demons.

Shateiel couldn’t guess how long he had been separated from the others. Ten minutes? An hour? The wind that had scattered them into disarray, another gift from the Demons he wagered, still blew fiercely around him pulling him more off course than he already intended to be. He could only keep going at a snail’s pace against the force of the wind and stare stupidly into clouds seeing nothing. Though nothing was better than something.

A black shape passed through the clouds in front of him and Shateiel’s heart rose straight up into his lungs in fear. Black in the skies was never a good thing, and black in the fog was even worse. Black on the walls meant death... And this black would mean his own if he didn’t leave this area. But to where? He had caught glimpses of Demon Glinters circling slowly around him. There was only so much of a chance he would only be going straight to their fort. But, it was be his only chance. Shateiel had little wish to be captured by a Demon but even a smaller to be captured with out even trying to escape. In his world of Honor. It was the most important thing to him to give an effort.

He grasped the pendant his sister gave him, long fingers curling around it. “Lord Michael,“ his voice shuddered in fear, “Bid me some good, my Lord. If it’s true that you should look upon me and smile.” Shateiel’s mouth then formed the words to call up his own wind gathering all of the power, force, and commanding he could muster into the spell as his voice rose over the fog in such at such a height even a spelled wind could not carry it away from him. The spell ached away on his lips and his Glinter responded, shooting under him, away from the thick fog, moving at an alarming pace and the new sun beating into his eyes blinding him.

If only he could have been blinded forever. There as clear as day under him stood Die Insel Holle and out of the fog, racing after him came three gleaming black Glinters.

His feet spread apart in instinct pulling himself down on the cords and leather as the wind beat across his back now in a death chase with the three Demons. No Angel had ever made it all the way across Die Insel Holle and was alive or sane enough to tell this tale, and yet, he felt near towards lunacy himself. Another spell rose up into the air to break his own, but unlike his it was in harsh voices that came from the very gutters of a man’s throat. A spell so much stronger than his own, it seemed futile he made the attempt to even call it.

“I’ve gone wrong in everyway! Go, go! Please go!” Shateiel’s voice rose in desperation as he tried to keep his wind behind his back and his Glinter racing through the barren lands of Holle. But the wind came for the Demon, beating against him, hitting against his cheek so strongly, it ached as if he had been punched will all the force of a strong fighter. And he found himself and his Glinter going backwards.

“No, no!” The wind whistled an evil tune through his ears as he turned his head his blue eyes looking back in the direction he was inevitably going towards. Large black Glinters looming only feet away from him. Cords flew through the air snapping across his Glinter wings, reeling it in closer towards the night black crafts. Wings... He let his own come falling from his back, ripping through the soft material of his shirt. He climbed on top of the controls, feet slipping over the sleek metal in just enough time to miss his own cords meant to capture him. Shateiel jumped from his Glinter and let himself fall through the sky to gain a good distance from them, as the sounds of the Demon’s cursing filtered farther away from him. If he could only get back into the fog, he could not fall far already so near to the ground of Holle.

He could make it. He pumped his wings hard half struggling in the wind rising into the air towards the fog breath coming in hard and eyes looking about wildly as his own feathers were picked up and swirled in front of his face in a cacophony of white. He made into the fog. But nothing else.

Pain shot through him, bursting into his veins as a ragged scream fell out of his throat and he found himself being pulled back blood pouring from his chest as the barbs of the cords pierced into his skin poising his blood and weakening his defenses.

“Not like this!” Shateiel’s voice struggled from his closing throat an unwanted darkness forming over his eyes the motion of his thrashing arms and legs turning into nothing as his feeling and control of them were taken from him. His injured wings folded back into his back as a slight sobbing came from his throat.

“Just like this.” A husky voice breathed wetly into his ear and Shateiel let the darkness sink over him.