[Infinity's End] The Break of Day 01-15
Nov. 13th, 2011 06:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
n_wilkinsona/n: I figured, heck. Since I'm just sitting here watching The Walking Dead instead of writing my NaNo fic, I figured I might as well make myself useful and post.
Title: The Break of Day
Series: Infinity's End, Prequel
Summary: A friendship that takes everyone by surprise slowly evolves into a deeper bond as Azriel, illegitimate son of the house Celestine, and Kieran, heir to the house Azura, throw themselves into the heart of a building altercation that explodes into an all out revolution.
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20)
December 9th, 1979
With an economical flick of the wrist, Azriel crossed the last letter on the parchment. Not an onerous task true, but still, there was a certain amount of satisfaction earned when something was completed.
Setting the paper aside, Azriel blew across the damp ink. While he waited for it to dry, he organized the supplies he'd used on his borrowed desk. By the time he was done, the desk looked untouched. A success. One couldn't even tell he'd used it.
Rising to his feet, Azriel gathered up the finished documents and carefully rolled the completed scroll. All that remained was to deliver it to his uncle in his personal office. He was filling in for Lord Adair's usual assistant today – the young woman out with sickness, something running rampant through Meropis as of late. His mother had been up to her ears in cases, which meant long nights and coming home exhausted.
Honestly, Azriel didn't mind helping out his uncles. His work for the Tolpa left little time for Azriel to spend with either of them recently. A fact that both expressed their displeasure over, and Azriel was always loathe to disappoint them.
That Kieran could whine about it even louder was also something Azriel had been forced to acknowledge.
Paperwork in hand, Azriel edged around the desk and headed for the door to his uncle's office. He passed only one person along the way, a lady roughly Adair’s age who seemed vaguely familiar. She actually flashed him a smile as the two of them went by each other in the hallway. But Azriel was too distracted to do more than nod cordially in turn as he came to his uncle’s door. It was open in invitation, but Azriel announced himself with a light knock anyway.
Lord Adair looked up at him from his suspiciously intense perusal of a heavily marked map of Meropis. His face was oddly flushed, and his hair was a touch too rakish, and Azriel suddenly realized exactly who had just been in here. But if Adair suspected that his nephew knew he didn’t show it as he grinned up at Azriel.
“All done? That was quick.” His eyebrows lifted in appreciation.
Azriel handed over the papers. “Compared to the tedious cross-referencing I'm assigned, this was simple.”
The corner of his uncle's eyes crinkled with humor. “Is that so?” He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, nephew. Take a minute to fill me in on everything.”
Azriel sat, but he shifted to avoid a slat of sunlight beaming in through the now open window. It carried with it the sharp bite of winter, which Lord Adair seemed to prefer.
“Not much has changed to be honest. I see mother a bit less. Kieran complains often.”
This time, Lord Adair laughed outright. “I imagine so.” He leaned back in his chair as his outstretched arm allowed for his fingers to tap nonsensically. “He seems to prefer to monopolize your time.”
“He does,” Azriel grudgingly allowed, though he would never admit he was secretly flattered. “My coworker, Miss Bryson, is pleasant to be around. Other than the stifling heat, I suppose I have no complaints.”
His uncle arched a dark bow. “Suppose?”
Azriel nodded. “I had requested a posting in the Archives after all. This is good experience though. It's a place to start.”
“Hmm.” Lord Adair rapped his fingers over the arm of his chair. “You know I still have that opening here if you'd prefer it. I would appreciate having someone on my staff I can fully trust. And really, it’d be nice to have you around.”
Azriel flushed. “Thank you, but my answer is the same.” He couldn't ride on his uncle's coattails forever; he wanted to succeed on his own merits. “I appreciate the offer though.”
He pretended he couldn't see his uncle's disappointment. Though there was a dose of understanding as well. Both Adair and Aidan were always so understanding.
“If you change your mind...” Lord Adair trailed off with a smile curving his lips.
“You'll be the first to know,” Azriel concluded.
“Lord Celestine!”
Both Azriel and his uncle were startled by the abrupt voice. Both men jerked to their feet, whirling toward the door. The good mood was forgotten as their chairs made screeches against the polished wood flooring.
A messenger from Grand Lord Wyndham, identified by the crest on his austere uniform, stood panting in the doorway. His face was red, eyes wide and frightened. It was as though he had run the entire distance from the Brigade Headquarters.
“What is it?” Lord Adair asked, and the intensity of his gaze made something in Azriel tighten.
The messenger straightened. “Grand Lord Wyndham requests your presence at once, sir. There's been an incident.” He forced himself into a proper stance, even as he drew in sharp breaths.
“Of what sort?” Lord Adair demanded, already rounding his desk.
The messenger looked visibly ill. “A Merihem attack at the borders, sir.”
Azriel sucked in a startled breath. At the borders? Meaning the unguarded open margin between Meropis and Talemar most likely.
A stab of shocked aether – Lord Adair's – swept through the room.
“A Merihem?” Lord Adair repeated, disbelief etched into his tone. “Outside of Meropis?”
“Yes, sir. To the east.”
Azriel's insides churned as he followed his uncle out the door. Lord Adair seemed similarly uneasy.
Merihem were bad news. For everyone.
Azriel shivered. It had nothing to do with the weather either.
“Was it alone?” Lord Adair questioned.
The messenger – still exhausted – struggled to keep up with Adair's fast pace as Azriel trailed along after them. “It's uncertain. Grand Lord Wyndham has ordered an investigation.”
“He'll want to send out a recon team as soon as possible,” Lord Adair mused aloud. He suddenly whirled to face Azriel. “I'm sorry, nephew. I must see to this.”
“Will you need any assistance?” Azriel asked softly.
Part of him was curious. Another part wanted nothing to do with any mention of the Merihem. They were the creatures of every child's and no few adult's nightmares.
Lord Adair shook his head firmly, and there was something to his brown eyes. Something even more wary than he’d been before. Almost frightened. Terrified by the idea of his nephew facing such a horror.
Azriel saw one hand form into a fist, even as his uncle closed his eyes for a spare second.
“No,” Adair put in more fiercely than he’d obviously intended. “No, nephew,” he repeated, softer this time. “This matter is purely Brigade. Please just…” He cast a glance at the messenger as if suddenly remembering him. “You may go home. Take the rest of the day.”
Azriel forced himself not to look at their audience, too. “Yes, sir.” he dipped his head and turned to leave.
“Azriel?”
He shifted to face his uncle once again, surprised by how close his uncle now stood. Just behind his elbow and practically whispering in his ear. Even more surprised the blend of emotion in Lord Adair's aether. Concern. Embarrassment. A sheen of agitation mixed in with trepidation and even affection.
“Don't tell your mother,” Adair murmured too softly for the messenger to hear. “She'll only worry.”
“Of course,” Azriel whispered back. “I'll see you later, sir.”
Lord Adair looked as though he might say something more, but then he shook his head and stepped back. He nodded once before he turned down the corridor; Wyndham's messenger remained hot on his heels.
“Have my brothers been contacted?” Lord Adair was saying.
“Both of them, sir,” the man panted after him. “High Lord Celestine is already on his way from what I hear.”
Their voices grew fainter as they disappeared around the curve in the hallway. Shaken, Azriel gathered up his composure. A Merihem at the border of Meropis... that was unheard of. They were supposed to linger close to their den, the poisonous Varos Flats. Which were a good half a week’s ride from the edge of Meropis. If not more.
Why would it venture out this far? What was it after?
What was it for that matter?
Outside, the sky was a dull grey, threatening another snowstorm. The air was crisp and clear with a bite to it that made him burrow deeper into the extra layers of his clothing. Azriel headed for home, but the question turned circles within him. The ground crunched beneath him, a mix of mud and lingering slush from last week's heavy storm.
His knowledge of the Merihem was limited to what information was available to the general public. They were dangerous monsters that craved to attack humans and consume them. Not their flesh but something else. Lifeforce perhaps. Aether even.
Honestly, information of the Merihem was sketchy at best.
Everyone knew the beasts came from the Varos Flats. That they were vicious killers. Dark things with shifting bodies and gleaming eyes.
Azriel's skin prickled trying to picture them.
But the whys and the hows... Azriel had no clue. That lack of knowledge made him pause midstep. He didn't like not having answers.
Perhaps Manah could fill in the blanks. She had a vast array of facts and wisdom. She might know. And if not, she could undoubtedly point him in the right direction.
Azriel abruptly changed his course, heading instead for the outskirts of Meropis. He was going a different direction from the Brigade, and since his uncle had dismissed him, he wouldn't be expected anywhere. Now was the perfect time to visit his familiar.
It was a bit surreal to see the populace going about their routines without a hint of worry. They had no knowledge of the recent Merihem attack. It was likely they never would. Grand Lord Wyndham would want everyone to think they were completely safe. Even if it meant concealing a possible danger.
It sounded charitable in theory. But Azriel knew the truth, the real motivation. It was one of many ways the nobles held sway over the commoners. Anything to keep the so-called lesser folk held under their thumb. It was infuriating, but there was nothing Azriel could do. He had little influence and no real power. He could only keep his discontent to himself.
It burned that he couldn't do anything to enact change. Such were the limitations of his position and birth.
Sighing, Azriel focused on slipping into the forest unnoticed. An easy enough task as the commoners often left to hung, forage, or visit any of the outlying villages. Grayshire allowed them that minor freedom. If not many others.
It was early walk to the enclosed marsh where Manah usually chose to linger. The path, always overgrown, was impossible to find unless one already knew where it was. Nevertheless, Azriel remained overly cautious. He checked with both his eyes and his aether that he hadn't been followed.
He hoped Manah was around. Sometimes, she wasn't. But those occasions were few and far between.
It struck him, as he drew closer to their meeting spot, that venturing into the forest after news of a Merihem attack was probably not the smartest thing to do. The desire for answers had outweighed his usual caution. A bit unnerved, Azriel paid closer attention to the shadows. He was hardly defenseless, but he also knew little about the Merihem. Would his magic be enough? Would it only attract them more?
He was relieved when he finally arrived. Information would provide reassurance, and Manah was capable of both. Or at least Azriel hoped.
At first glance, however, Azriel could not see the graceful crane. Not even a hint of white features. Cautiously, he expanded his aether, seeking Manah's familiar vibrations. He sensed nothing; Manah was not here.
Disappointed, Azriel lowered himself down to the moss-covered log that had become his seat over the years. He could afford to wait a bit, Azriel reasoned. It was quiet here, and he didn't mind, despite the chill.
Closing his eyes, Azriel figured he could do with some mediation. He gently flared his aether around him, an early warning system to any possible danger. Specifically of the human or Merihem sort.
Clearing his mind, however, was easier said than done. His thoughts kept bouncing back to the attack and what it could possibly portend.
“Azriel?”
Familiar power tugged at Azriel's defenses. He opened his eyes, turning his head to watch Manah stride up to him. Each step regal and full of grace.
He smiled. “Surprise.”
“Indeed. I didn't expect you back so soon, dear heart.” Manah gave a low trill of approval. “Though I'm very glad for the visit.”
Azriel uncurled himself from the log, rising to meet Manah properly. “I must admit I have ulterior motives.”
“Oh?” Her bird-like eyes flicked over him in a distinctly human fashion. “Is something the matter?”
He sighed. “You could say that.” When her aether flared with alarm, Azriel hastened to rephrase. “I’m fine, Manah. But there was an incident today that worried me. Especially since my usual resources proved lacking.”
The concern abated with a wash of relief, both quickly replaced with curiosity.
“Ah. Then you wish to ask me something.” Manah waded through the ankle deep water until she found a comfortable place to perch. She didn’t even seem to notice the cold at all. “Tell me what happened, dearest.”
Returning to his own seat, Azriel relayed all that he knew. What little of it there was. He didn't like the alarmed look that took over Manah's expression before it quickly flitted away.
“I see,” she murmured, feathers ruffling. “This is quite worrisome. Very worrisome indeed. This is not the first attack I have heard of in the last few months.”
“Not the first?” Azriel repeated in surprise.
Manah shifted to one foot for a second. “Indeed, my dear,” she confirmed sadly. “The others of my kind have told me of three additional sightings. Though only one other outright attack.”
Azriel turned that over in his head for a moment. He was shocked, astonished even. This was the first he’d heard of such a thing. He could guess why Manah hadn’t told him; she hadn’t the time. Yet, there’d been no rumors around Grayshire of this at all. But then, hadn’t he just been thinking that Grand Lord Wyndham liked to keep the populace in the dark?
And not even him either. Lord Adair generally liked to keep such things quiet, too. Though for different reasons. He didn’t like unnecessary panic and worry, especially when it’d serve no purpose. He didn’t even want Neorah to know, and Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if Lord Adair even have told him, his own nephew, about this current attack had he not been present.
The brunet shook his head.
“But why?” Azriel questioned. “Why so many?”
“I don’t know.” The crane tilted her head in a way that would’ve better fit an owl. “Perhaps it is the change of the seasons. Perhaps something else.”
She seemed genuinely stumped, but there was something to her response, some odd wording or stumbling of her mouth. As if she’d left something out.
Azriel felt his eyes narrow before he could stop himself. He leaned forward, almost but not quite touching her.
“Manah... what are the Merihem?”
Manah sighed and ducked her head. Her gaze was shadowed, distant. Hollow even. She didn’t step away from him, not physically. But there was a sense of distance in their connection. A sensation of a glass wall between them. Azriel could see her, and she him. But there was still a barrier.
“Manah?” he repeated, reaching out with both hand and energy. Fingers tracing her feathers and sliding down her wing in almost a lover’s caress.
She leaned into the touch as always. Warm and alive beneath his touch. But her voice was tired when she spoke.
“I am not sure you are ready for that truth, Azriel.”
The sound of his name was almost a slap to the face. He was dear heart. Or dearest. Her boy turned a man. Her human. It wasn’t often she called him Azriel, and usually, it was only when things were very serious indeed.
“Why not?” His grip tightened on her wing. Not pain. Just firm. Unwilling to let go.
Her gaze skipped past him, as though seeing more than just him. He felt her shiver.
“It is tied into a dark, painful past,” she murmured, looking anywhere but him. “And a truth about humankind that may be difficult to bear.”
Azriel squared his jaw, even as he stood and moved closer. One are lifted to wrap around her slowly, hesitantly, almost afraid she’d step away. Thankfully, she didn’t. Just allowed him to curl nearer.
“I'm hardly our biggest fan,” the brunet assured gently. “Otherwise, I wouldn't be here with you. Truth be told, I far prefer you to most humans.”
Her head curved around then, and her break rubbed his shoulder. But she still didn’t look at him.
“I know, my love.” Her head was warm on his. “But this information may also change your opinion of me.”
He considered and then rubbed his face on hers. “Even so,” he announced. “I'm certain that it won't. Little could. Please tell me.”
Her eyes were closed now, head tilting to rest on his shoulder. She took a deep breath.
“Very well.”
Manah settled into his warmth as if afraid it’d suddenly disappear. Azriel didn’t like the way her aether fluttered. Nervous. Almost skittish.
“In the eyes of humankind, we are monsters. You know this,” the crane began.
Azriel made a noise of agreement.
Manah curled even closer. Pressed so tightly against him now that her body heat and aether soaked through his outer robe, the inner ones, and straight to his skin.
“We are called demons not because of what we are,” she murmured close to his ear, “but because of what their ancestors have made us.”
Azriel puzzled over that. “What do you mean?”
Pale yellow eyes opened and looked at nothing. But the old pain in them was immeasurable.
“The Merihem are my kin,” she added softly, so softly, too softly. “Mine and all the other surviving spirits.”
Azriel's breath caught in his throat. He felt her freeze beside him. Felt her start to pull. But he held tight.
“I don't... That doesn't...” He shook his head to clear it. “What does that even mean?”
She wrapped herself back around him it was becoming a bit difficult to breathe. But Azriel didn’t care. It was too surprised. Too worried about Manah. About the feel to her energy. Frightened. Scared like a small child who feared mommy and daddy didn’t love them anymore.
“They are what happens to one of us when our magic becomes polluted. When we are cut from our mana, the very essence that defines us.”
“But...”
Azriel's mind connected the facts at a rapid pace, and his stomach sank to his ankles even as it twisted in on itself and became nothing but knots. There was bile in his throat, dancing on his tongue. And a heavy weight in his soul that made him stumble. That would’ve brought him to his knees had she not caught him.
“You said humans made them. You said… Their ancestors… My ancestors… Grayshire…”
Manah's tone became impossibly gentle. As though she wished to give comfort now where she’d received it before.
“Once, long ago, we and humankind were inseparable. Just as you and I are now.” Her breath was soft on his cheek. “Then something happened. A betrayal or a misunderstanding. None of us know for sure. Time is a tricky beast on memories.” Her wings lifted slightly and settled, betraying her agitation. “Humankind turned on us – their brethren. We don't know what foul concoction they brewed, but the results were hideous. Malignant.”
“The Merihem,” he breathed. New understanding settled within him like a crude lead plate, rough around the edges.
“Yes.” Manah exhaled. “And that is what they are. The shadows of former guardians, twisted into something that hungers without restraint.”
His throat was tight and hot. “Why would they do such a thing? How could they do such a thing? I know you. What you’re like. How could anyone want to hurt you? I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, dearest,” Manah replied. “It is the darkest moment in my memories, and the centuries following have shown little improvement.” She shifted enough to look at him. “But I know not all humans are as they were.”
Still stunned, Azriel struggled to process the revelations. The truth. It couldn't be a lie. Their bond was such that untruths were impossible. Which meant Azriel's own kind had fed him misinformation. Had lied to his face.
Manah slid against him, more like a cat than a crane. The brush from her aether was a bare comfort but a welcome one.
“You see why I hesitated in telling you?” she questioned. “I didn’t want to upset you. To believe that I thought less of you for what those of your ancestry did. But you aren’t them. You are Azriel. You are mine, and I’d have it no other way.”
Azriel swallowed. “It’s a wonder you were willing to befriend me at all.”
“I was wise enough to know that not all humans are the same. To know that there were still some like those who had loved us so long ago.” Manah nuzzled him. “Still, there is much you don't know about their history. When you are ready, I will share it with you.”
He drew in a slow breath. “If it’s worse... part of me isn’t certain I want to know.”
There was something like mirth in her eyes now. Something warm and welcoming.
“And yet, you are also the sort who doesn't shy from the truth, my dear. I know you too well.”
“That I am.” Azriel lightly stroked the soft feathers of Manah's wing. “Thank you for telling me. For trusting me,” he whispered.
Manah didn’t say anything. She simply laid her head on his shoulder.
****
a/n: A bit of a shorter chapter than usual. But the next one makes up for it.
Title: The Break of Day
Series: Infinity's End, Prequel
Summary: A friendship that takes everyone by surprise slowly evolves into a deeper bond as Azriel, illegitimate son of the house Celestine, and Kieran, heir to the house Azura, throw themselves into the heart of a building altercation that explodes into an all out revolution.
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20)
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Part One: Chapter Fifteen
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Part One: Chapter Fifteen
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December 9th, 1979
With an economical flick of the wrist, Azriel crossed the last letter on the parchment. Not an onerous task true, but still, there was a certain amount of satisfaction earned when something was completed.
Setting the paper aside, Azriel blew across the damp ink. While he waited for it to dry, he organized the supplies he'd used on his borrowed desk. By the time he was done, the desk looked untouched. A success. One couldn't even tell he'd used it.
Rising to his feet, Azriel gathered up the finished documents and carefully rolled the completed scroll. All that remained was to deliver it to his uncle in his personal office. He was filling in for Lord Adair's usual assistant today – the young woman out with sickness, something running rampant through Meropis as of late. His mother had been up to her ears in cases, which meant long nights and coming home exhausted.
Honestly, Azriel didn't mind helping out his uncles. His work for the Tolpa left little time for Azriel to spend with either of them recently. A fact that both expressed their displeasure over, and Azriel was always loathe to disappoint them.
That Kieran could whine about it even louder was also something Azriel had been forced to acknowledge.
Paperwork in hand, Azriel edged around the desk and headed for the door to his uncle's office. He passed only one person along the way, a lady roughly Adair’s age who seemed vaguely familiar. She actually flashed him a smile as the two of them went by each other in the hallway. But Azriel was too distracted to do more than nod cordially in turn as he came to his uncle’s door. It was open in invitation, but Azriel announced himself with a light knock anyway.
Lord Adair looked up at him from his suspiciously intense perusal of a heavily marked map of Meropis. His face was oddly flushed, and his hair was a touch too rakish, and Azriel suddenly realized exactly who had just been in here. But if Adair suspected that his nephew knew he didn’t show it as he grinned up at Azriel.
“All done? That was quick.” His eyebrows lifted in appreciation.
Azriel handed over the papers. “Compared to the tedious cross-referencing I'm assigned, this was simple.”
The corner of his uncle's eyes crinkled with humor. “Is that so?” He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, nephew. Take a minute to fill me in on everything.”
Azriel sat, but he shifted to avoid a slat of sunlight beaming in through the now open window. It carried with it the sharp bite of winter, which Lord Adair seemed to prefer.
“Not much has changed to be honest. I see mother a bit less. Kieran complains often.”
This time, Lord Adair laughed outright. “I imagine so.” He leaned back in his chair as his outstretched arm allowed for his fingers to tap nonsensically. “He seems to prefer to monopolize your time.”
“He does,” Azriel grudgingly allowed, though he would never admit he was secretly flattered. “My coworker, Miss Bryson, is pleasant to be around. Other than the stifling heat, I suppose I have no complaints.”
His uncle arched a dark bow. “Suppose?”
Azriel nodded. “I had requested a posting in the Archives after all. This is good experience though. It's a place to start.”
“Hmm.” Lord Adair rapped his fingers over the arm of his chair. “You know I still have that opening here if you'd prefer it. I would appreciate having someone on my staff I can fully trust. And really, it’d be nice to have you around.”
Azriel flushed. “Thank you, but my answer is the same.” He couldn't ride on his uncle's coattails forever; he wanted to succeed on his own merits. “I appreciate the offer though.”
He pretended he couldn't see his uncle's disappointment. Though there was a dose of understanding as well. Both Adair and Aidan were always so understanding.
“If you change your mind...” Lord Adair trailed off with a smile curving his lips.
“You'll be the first to know,” Azriel concluded.
“Lord Celestine!”
Both Azriel and his uncle were startled by the abrupt voice. Both men jerked to their feet, whirling toward the door. The good mood was forgotten as their chairs made screeches against the polished wood flooring.
A messenger from Grand Lord Wyndham, identified by the crest on his austere uniform, stood panting in the doorway. His face was red, eyes wide and frightened. It was as though he had run the entire distance from the Brigade Headquarters.
“What is it?” Lord Adair asked, and the intensity of his gaze made something in Azriel tighten.
The messenger straightened. “Grand Lord Wyndham requests your presence at once, sir. There's been an incident.” He forced himself into a proper stance, even as he drew in sharp breaths.
“Of what sort?” Lord Adair demanded, already rounding his desk.
The messenger looked visibly ill. “A Merihem attack at the borders, sir.”
Azriel sucked in a startled breath. At the borders? Meaning the unguarded open margin between Meropis and Talemar most likely.
A stab of shocked aether – Lord Adair's – swept through the room.
“A Merihem?” Lord Adair repeated, disbelief etched into his tone. “Outside of Meropis?”
“Yes, sir. To the east.”
Azriel's insides churned as he followed his uncle out the door. Lord Adair seemed similarly uneasy.
Merihem were bad news. For everyone.
Azriel shivered. It had nothing to do with the weather either.
“Was it alone?” Lord Adair questioned.
The messenger – still exhausted – struggled to keep up with Adair's fast pace as Azriel trailed along after them. “It's uncertain. Grand Lord Wyndham has ordered an investigation.”
“He'll want to send out a recon team as soon as possible,” Lord Adair mused aloud. He suddenly whirled to face Azriel. “I'm sorry, nephew. I must see to this.”
“Will you need any assistance?” Azriel asked softly.
Part of him was curious. Another part wanted nothing to do with any mention of the Merihem. They were the creatures of every child's and no few adult's nightmares.
Lord Adair shook his head firmly, and there was something to his brown eyes. Something even more wary than he’d been before. Almost frightened. Terrified by the idea of his nephew facing such a horror.
Azriel saw one hand form into a fist, even as his uncle closed his eyes for a spare second.
“No,” Adair put in more fiercely than he’d obviously intended. “No, nephew,” he repeated, softer this time. “This matter is purely Brigade. Please just…” He cast a glance at the messenger as if suddenly remembering him. “You may go home. Take the rest of the day.”
Azriel forced himself not to look at their audience, too. “Yes, sir.” he dipped his head and turned to leave.
“Azriel?”
He shifted to face his uncle once again, surprised by how close his uncle now stood. Just behind his elbow and practically whispering in his ear. Even more surprised the blend of emotion in Lord Adair's aether. Concern. Embarrassment. A sheen of agitation mixed in with trepidation and even affection.
“Don't tell your mother,” Adair murmured too softly for the messenger to hear. “She'll only worry.”
“Of course,” Azriel whispered back. “I'll see you later, sir.”
Lord Adair looked as though he might say something more, but then he shook his head and stepped back. He nodded once before he turned down the corridor; Wyndham's messenger remained hot on his heels.
“Have my brothers been contacted?” Lord Adair was saying.
“Both of them, sir,” the man panted after him. “High Lord Celestine is already on his way from what I hear.”
Their voices grew fainter as they disappeared around the curve in the hallway. Shaken, Azriel gathered up his composure. A Merihem at the border of Meropis... that was unheard of. They were supposed to linger close to their den, the poisonous Varos Flats. Which were a good half a week’s ride from the edge of Meropis. If not more.
Why would it venture out this far? What was it after?
What was it for that matter?
Outside, the sky was a dull grey, threatening another snowstorm. The air was crisp and clear with a bite to it that made him burrow deeper into the extra layers of his clothing. Azriel headed for home, but the question turned circles within him. The ground crunched beneath him, a mix of mud and lingering slush from last week's heavy storm.
His knowledge of the Merihem was limited to what information was available to the general public. They were dangerous monsters that craved to attack humans and consume them. Not their flesh but something else. Lifeforce perhaps. Aether even.
Honestly, information of the Merihem was sketchy at best.
Everyone knew the beasts came from the Varos Flats. That they were vicious killers. Dark things with shifting bodies and gleaming eyes.
Azriel's skin prickled trying to picture them.
But the whys and the hows... Azriel had no clue. That lack of knowledge made him pause midstep. He didn't like not having answers.
Perhaps Manah could fill in the blanks. She had a vast array of facts and wisdom. She might know. And if not, she could undoubtedly point him in the right direction.
Azriel abruptly changed his course, heading instead for the outskirts of Meropis. He was going a different direction from the Brigade, and since his uncle had dismissed him, he wouldn't be expected anywhere. Now was the perfect time to visit his familiar.
It was a bit surreal to see the populace going about their routines without a hint of worry. They had no knowledge of the recent Merihem attack. It was likely they never would. Grand Lord Wyndham would want everyone to think they were completely safe. Even if it meant concealing a possible danger.
It sounded charitable in theory. But Azriel knew the truth, the real motivation. It was one of many ways the nobles held sway over the commoners. Anything to keep the so-called lesser folk held under their thumb. It was infuriating, but there was nothing Azriel could do. He had little influence and no real power. He could only keep his discontent to himself.
It burned that he couldn't do anything to enact change. Such were the limitations of his position and birth.
Sighing, Azriel focused on slipping into the forest unnoticed. An easy enough task as the commoners often left to hung, forage, or visit any of the outlying villages. Grayshire allowed them that minor freedom. If not many others.
It was early walk to the enclosed marsh where Manah usually chose to linger. The path, always overgrown, was impossible to find unless one already knew where it was. Nevertheless, Azriel remained overly cautious. He checked with both his eyes and his aether that he hadn't been followed.
He hoped Manah was around. Sometimes, she wasn't. But those occasions were few and far between.
It struck him, as he drew closer to their meeting spot, that venturing into the forest after news of a Merihem attack was probably not the smartest thing to do. The desire for answers had outweighed his usual caution. A bit unnerved, Azriel paid closer attention to the shadows. He was hardly defenseless, but he also knew little about the Merihem. Would his magic be enough? Would it only attract them more?
He was relieved when he finally arrived. Information would provide reassurance, and Manah was capable of both. Or at least Azriel hoped.
At first glance, however, Azriel could not see the graceful crane. Not even a hint of white features. Cautiously, he expanded his aether, seeking Manah's familiar vibrations. He sensed nothing; Manah was not here.
Disappointed, Azriel lowered himself down to the moss-covered log that had become his seat over the years. He could afford to wait a bit, Azriel reasoned. It was quiet here, and he didn't mind, despite the chill.
Closing his eyes, Azriel figured he could do with some mediation. He gently flared his aether around him, an early warning system to any possible danger. Specifically of the human or Merihem sort.
Clearing his mind, however, was easier said than done. His thoughts kept bouncing back to the attack and what it could possibly portend.
“Azriel?”
Familiar power tugged at Azriel's defenses. He opened his eyes, turning his head to watch Manah stride up to him. Each step regal and full of grace.
He smiled. “Surprise.”
“Indeed. I didn't expect you back so soon, dear heart.” Manah gave a low trill of approval. “Though I'm very glad for the visit.”
Azriel uncurled himself from the log, rising to meet Manah properly. “I must admit I have ulterior motives.”
“Oh?” Her bird-like eyes flicked over him in a distinctly human fashion. “Is something the matter?”
He sighed. “You could say that.” When her aether flared with alarm, Azriel hastened to rephrase. “I’m fine, Manah. But there was an incident today that worried me. Especially since my usual resources proved lacking.”
The concern abated with a wash of relief, both quickly replaced with curiosity.
“Ah. Then you wish to ask me something.” Manah waded through the ankle deep water until she found a comfortable place to perch. She didn’t even seem to notice the cold at all. “Tell me what happened, dearest.”
Returning to his own seat, Azriel relayed all that he knew. What little of it there was. He didn't like the alarmed look that took over Manah's expression before it quickly flitted away.
“I see,” she murmured, feathers ruffling. “This is quite worrisome. Very worrisome indeed. This is not the first attack I have heard of in the last few months.”
“Not the first?” Azriel repeated in surprise.
Manah shifted to one foot for a second. “Indeed, my dear,” she confirmed sadly. “The others of my kind have told me of three additional sightings. Though only one other outright attack.”
Azriel turned that over in his head for a moment. He was shocked, astonished even. This was the first he’d heard of such a thing. He could guess why Manah hadn’t told him; she hadn’t the time. Yet, there’d been no rumors around Grayshire of this at all. But then, hadn’t he just been thinking that Grand Lord Wyndham liked to keep the populace in the dark?
And not even him either. Lord Adair generally liked to keep such things quiet, too. Though for different reasons. He didn’t like unnecessary panic and worry, especially when it’d serve no purpose. He didn’t even want Neorah to know, and Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if Lord Adair even have told him, his own nephew, about this current attack had he not been present.
The brunet shook his head.
“But why?” Azriel questioned. “Why so many?”
“I don’t know.” The crane tilted her head in a way that would’ve better fit an owl. “Perhaps it is the change of the seasons. Perhaps something else.”
She seemed genuinely stumped, but there was something to her response, some odd wording or stumbling of her mouth. As if she’d left something out.
Azriel felt his eyes narrow before he could stop himself. He leaned forward, almost but not quite touching her.
“Manah... what are the Merihem?”
Manah sighed and ducked her head. Her gaze was shadowed, distant. Hollow even. She didn’t step away from him, not physically. But there was a sense of distance in their connection. A sensation of a glass wall between them. Azriel could see her, and she him. But there was still a barrier.
“Manah?” he repeated, reaching out with both hand and energy. Fingers tracing her feathers and sliding down her wing in almost a lover’s caress.
She leaned into the touch as always. Warm and alive beneath his touch. But her voice was tired when she spoke.
“I am not sure you are ready for that truth, Azriel.”
The sound of his name was almost a slap to the face. He was dear heart. Or dearest. Her boy turned a man. Her human. It wasn’t often she called him Azriel, and usually, it was only when things were very serious indeed.
“Why not?” His grip tightened on her wing. Not pain. Just firm. Unwilling to let go.
Her gaze skipped past him, as though seeing more than just him. He felt her shiver.
“It is tied into a dark, painful past,” she murmured, looking anywhere but him. “And a truth about humankind that may be difficult to bear.”
Azriel squared his jaw, even as he stood and moved closer. One are lifted to wrap around her slowly, hesitantly, almost afraid she’d step away. Thankfully, she didn’t. Just allowed him to curl nearer.
“I'm hardly our biggest fan,” the brunet assured gently. “Otherwise, I wouldn't be here with you. Truth be told, I far prefer you to most humans.”
Her head curved around then, and her break rubbed his shoulder. But she still didn’t look at him.
“I know, my love.” Her head was warm on his. “But this information may also change your opinion of me.”
He considered and then rubbed his face on hers. “Even so,” he announced. “I'm certain that it won't. Little could. Please tell me.”
Her eyes were closed now, head tilting to rest on his shoulder. She took a deep breath.
“Very well.”
Manah settled into his warmth as if afraid it’d suddenly disappear. Azriel didn’t like the way her aether fluttered. Nervous. Almost skittish.
“In the eyes of humankind, we are monsters. You know this,” the crane began.
Azriel made a noise of agreement.
Manah curled even closer. Pressed so tightly against him now that her body heat and aether soaked through his outer robe, the inner ones, and straight to his skin.
“We are called demons not because of what we are,” she murmured close to his ear, “but because of what their ancestors have made us.”
Azriel puzzled over that. “What do you mean?”
Pale yellow eyes opened and looked at nothing. But the old pain in them was immeasurable.
“The Merihem are my kin,” she added softly, so softly, too softly. “Mine and all the other surviving spirits.”
Azriel's breath caught in his throat. He felt her freeze beside him. Felt her start to pull. But he held tight.
“I don't... That doesn't...” He shook his head to clear it. “What does that even mean?”
She wrapped herself back around him it was becoming a bit difficult to breathe. But Azriel didn’t care. It was too surprised. Too worried about Manah. About the feel to her energy. Frightened. Scared like a small child who feared mommy and daddy didn’t love them anymore.
“They are what happens to one of us when our magic becomes polluted. When we are cut from our mana, the very essence that defines us.”
“But...”
Azriel's mind connected the facts at a rapid pace, and his stomach sank to his ankles even as it twisted in on itself and became nothing but knots. There was bile in his throat, dancing on his tongue. And a heavy weight in his soul that made him stumble. That would’ve brought him to his knees had she not caught him.
“You said humans made them. You said… Their ancestors… My ancestors… Grayshire…”
Manah's tone became impossibly gentle. As though she wished to give comfort now where she’d received it before.
“Once, long ago, we and humankind were inseparable. Just as you and I are now.” Her breath was soft on his cheek. “Then something happened. A betrayal or a misunderstanding. None of us know for sure. Time is a tricky beast on memories.” Her wings lifted slightly and settled, betraying her agitation. “Humankind turned on us – their brethren. We don't know what foul concoction they brewed, but the results were hideous. Malignant.”
“The Merihem,” he breathed. New understanding settled within him like a crude lead plate, rough around the edges.
“Yes.” Manah exhaled. “And that is what they are. The shadows of former guardians, twisted into something that hungers without restraint.”
His throat was tight and hot. “Why would they do such a thing? How could they do such a thing? I know you. What you’re like. How could anyone want to hurt you? I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, dearest,” Manah replied. “It is the darkest moment in my memories, and the centuries following have shown little improvement.” She shifted enough to look at him. “But I know not all humans are as they were.”
Still stunned, Azriel struggled to process the revelations. The truth. It couldn't be a lie. Their bond was such that untruths were impossible. Which meant Azriel's own kind had fed him misinformation. Had lied to his face.
Manah slid against him, more like a cat than a crane. The brush from her aether was a bare comfort but a welcome one.
“You see why I hesitated in telling you?” she questioned. “I didn’t want to upset you. To believe that I thought less of you for what those of your ancestry did. But you aren’t them. You are Azriel. You are mine, and I’d have it no other way.”
Azriel swallowed. “It’s a wonder you were willing to befriend me at all.”
“I was wise enough to know that not all humans are the same. To know that there were still some like those who had loved us so long ago.” Manah nuzzled him. “Still, there is much you don't know about their history. When you are ready, I will share it with you.”
He drew in a slow breath. “If it’s worse... part of me isn’t certain I want to know.”
There was something like mirth in her eyes now. Something warm and welcoming.
“And yet, you are also the sort who doesn't shy from the truth, my dear. I know you too well.”
“That I am.” Azriel lightly stroked the soft feathers of Manah's wing. “Thank you for telling me. For trusting me,” he whispered.
Manah didn’t say anything. She simply laid her head on his shoulder.
a/n: A bit of a shorter chapter than usual. But the next one makes up for it.
