Ebony Wings

30

~Ali~

After my unproductive encounter with Jack, I meander down the knoll to find some quiet solace. Ethan never returned and I didn't find sleep again. So I remain here, in the cold blood of the morning light, waving my hands over the drying grass as I let myself just be. 

Hours pass. Or maybe minutes, but Jack's screech sends my frayed nerves spasming. The serenity is obliterated and I jolt like a grenade has exploded. He jogs into sight at the crest of the small hill, waving his hands in large, definite gestures.

"They're here!" He shouts through cupped hands, his voice weak by the time it reaches me. "They're here!" Jaz pushes her way over the uneven earth, shouting inaudibly. 

My legs move on their own accord, pumping towards the top of the knoll and onto the flat plateau. As I near their weary forms, Ethan comes tearing through the sky, crashing heavy-footed into the ground, clumps of soil tossing through the air like shrapnel. My legs slow as I catch my breath, jogging the last few steps to the others.

The air is tense with laboured breaths and Ethan maintains an exterior of calm despite the tension constricting his body. 

"Over the horizon..." He pants. "Hundreds of them." Ethan smooths back a wad of floppy hair, a fine sheen of sweat glistening over his chestnut skin.

"Crap," Jack mutters, fingers raking through his own thick hair. A common nervous habit, I suppose.

"And The Book?" Ethan asks desperately.

"Locked," Jaz answers, eyes stuck to the horizon as a cluster of ashen bodies advance. 

"Ali, Jaz," Ethan addresses briskly. "Into the church, now, and hide in the pit. The church's holy glamour will buy us some time - they should burn if they pass the threshold. But it won't hold forever." We nod, throats paralysed. Ethan rushes to me and takes my hand, pressing a cool, pearly handle into my grasp, squeezing once before he lets go. I pull the leather sheath halfway down the short, silver blade, watching the smooth edge glint for a moment before resheathing it and sliding it into my waistband. "Just in case." 

"And take this." Jack holds out a bundle of brown and grey rags to Jaz. Instantly I know The Book of Angels is bundled within its layers. "Keep it safe no matter what and under no circumstance do you take it out of the cloths."

"Jack, no." Ethan steps forwards as Jaz reaches out to take the bound book. She pauses, suddenly unsure. 

"We have no choice!" Jack disagrees. "What do you think we are going to do? Fight with a blade in one hand an The Book in another? No way. We keep the girls safe. They keep the book safe." Ethan's eyes tighten, but he takes a step backwards and Jaz tentatively takes the weight of The Book into her grasp.

"Go get the blades from the bag," Ethan snaps at Jack, his eyes a whirlpool of steely blue. A vein ticks at his right temple, his arms rigid like tree trunks. He turns his anarchic gaze to us, chilling me to the core. "Go!"

Jaz begins running towards the church, The Book clutched tightly to her chest. Stuck in a moment of conflict, I turn the dagger over in my hand, unmoving.

"I can help!" I protest. The blade feels comfortable in my grasp as I imagine the sharpened metal shredding flesh, duelling with bone. "It only takes one person to hold a book and hide. The Fallen are weak!"

"Weakened or not, you will be dead before you even see them pull a blade." Ethan turns his back to me, finished with the argument.

"But -"

"No," he bites. "This is not why I gave you my dagger." I press my lips into a thin line to keep from lashing out. The moment of silence allows me to think clearly - that I should pick my battles today, and Ethan is not the enemy. I nod curtly in response, complying to his commands. His taught features ease marginally, thankful for my conformity and he rushes away to gather weapons. I curse under my breath and take off, pushing my legs hard and fast up the hill. 

My neck hums as I dash into the church, catching up with Jaz inside. Wasting no time, I leap onto the platform and pull Jaz up by her forearm, careful with our cargo. As Jaz finds her feet, pulling the cloths tighter over The Book, a cry echoes over the hills accompanied by the thunder of footmen in the distance. As I look into the pit, the darkness suddenly looks somewhat appealing. 

"Pass it over and climb in. Whatever happens, you and The Book need to be hidden first," I urge, opening my hands for the bound text. Jaz looks nervous for a moment - terrified even - but she schools her features well.

"Make sure the cloth doesn't loosen as you pass it back down." I nod quickly and feel the heavy pages transfer into my grip. My heart jolts as my fingers grip the hoarse rags, The Book so close to my skin that it becomes a task of willpower not to follow my instincts and touch the leather, whisper the words.

Jaz hangs over the edge, her fingers white as she holds her weight. After a moment of consideration, she lets go and her entire body is lost into the pit. As she disappears, the weight in my arms brings my attention back to The Book, my nails scratching at the woven fabric. The threads slip under my touch, a slither of the corner exposed.  

So close...

I shove the cloth back over the cover, worried about what I almost did. Focus.

"Ali? Hello?" Jaz brings my attention back to the situation. I peer into the gloomy shaft, letting my eyes adjust until I see Jaz with her arms above her head, waiting expectantly.

"Pass it down." I kneel onto the floor and lean into the hole, steadying my weight with my other hand. I feel Jaz grip the bottom and begrudgingly release The Book. Bracing myself on the floorboards, I ease myself in, my toes touching the ground as I stretch down. Broken glass and rubble crunch loudly under my weight as I squint into the underside of the church. Thin shafts of light filter through the floorboards, mixing with dust motes and helping little with visibility. I almost trip over the broken column sitting cracked under the opening.

I guide us into the shroud of darkness, keenly aware of our vulnerability in the light. Beat after beat my heart thrums in my chest, a violent thump so loud I wonder if Jaz can hear it too. I count the compressions, feel the blood gushing through my veins. Who knows how much longer that sensation will be there for?

Time passes and we shift on our feet, rubble and glass grinding with each movement, a small bomb with each crunch. I clear a small perimeter on the floor, kicking away the clattering debris so our movements are silenced.

Minutes pass with no insurgency, the cool stillness of the church increasingly alarming. "I can't hear anything," Jaz whispers, barely perceptible to my ear. I lean closer, straining to listen. "It's been a while and still nothing."

"Maybe that's a good thing?" I offer, trying to muffle my voice. "Maybe they -"

My murmurs are drowned by an angry roar. Above ground, the earth shakes, dirt piling onto our heads in small drifts from the floorboards. I shield my eyes, masking my coughs. Jaz nestles the book closer to her chest, her eyes widening as tears start to brim. 

The promise of their arrival has come.