Chapter 2 - Enoch

The year Adam died - 930 BC. -  Enoch crouched beneath a Father Tree, praying for cover, resisting the urge to wipe sweat from his brow. A twig snapped. The creature is behind me. The shuffling darted three paces to his right, then again to his left. No—in front. Maybe I miscalculated? Instead of one, four beasts are tracking me. Tubal-Cain! Enoch scowled. My cousin has played me low.
Why did I trust him? Enoch slumped. Splitting up to search for alroue was just a guise. Now my tribe will pay for my foolishness.
Enoch surveyed his options before risking a move. The Power of the Light was setting fast and with it the last of his strength. Sweat and tears blurred his vision, but Enoch dared not blink. I will deal with Tubal-Cain later. Something with a higher intelligence than he had anticipated was tracking him. Not four beasts, but one—with the ability to travel fast.
Enoch slid closer to the pungent evergreen, hoping its scent would mask his own. A gust whistled through the upper branches. The blast of air swooshed again. Glory to the Light! He exhaled. The creature was gone.
Enoch enjoyed that breeze until it reminded him of something familiar—
Breathing. Something very large was in the wood above.
Sheer desperation forced him to act. Maybe this wasn’t one of Tubal-Cain’s trained beasts. Maybe it was—Enoch remembered the elders warning, “and if ye see a Cherub, waste no time—run!”
Just then, he saw it. Or rather, he heard it. 
Swoosh. 
The fading light bent under the movement. A glimpse of strange flesh raced by. Deep green, then tawny brown like the tree.
Swish. 
The soft, red clay vibrated under his calloused feet. It vanished. But the vibrations continued. It was running. 
No one had seen a Cherub in seven ages. Father Adam’s tale of his last experience was enough to strike terror in the heart of the fiercest alpha-tracker. Why was it running? It could have easily killed him.
Enoch inched forward. Tracks. You might be camouflaged but you do have feet. Enoch followed the over-sized imprints. His desire for the rare plant, needed to stave off the sickness, outweighed his fear. The Cherub hadn’t killed him when it had the chance. Surely that was a sign of the Ancient One’s favor. 
Enoch ran light as a deer, deeper into the forest, slicing through flowering vines as he forged a plan. I’ll follow the trail to the edge of the Forbidden Garden, gather the alroue and head back before sun-sleep. Else, I’ll return at sun’s birth when the protection of the One Mind is strongest.
A fragrant mist shrouded Enoch from the waist down. He ducked and ran low, refreshed by the spray, searching the forest floor for alroue. “It’ll be by water,” the elders said. Soon the scent filled the air. The river’s deliberate rhythm flowed nearby and the creature’s tracks too.
A long-winged dactyl, soaring high, dove through the branches and vanished in the treetops. No doubt positioned to hunt when darkness rose. I won’t fill his belly. Enoch gripped his blade. If he won’t reason, he dies. Enoch commanded most animals while light filled the heavens. True, the more rebellious ones, like Tubal-Cain’s wolves, were resistant even at sun’s peak. The elders’ words rang in his ears, “authority fades and wicked reigns in the black of night.” The softening sky warned him the protection of the Ancient One would set soon—only skill would save him then.
“Thank the Light!” Enoch clutched a fat vine to regain his balance, scattering loose soil into the crevasse below. Thick foliage hid the last massive print and the sudden drop in terrain. Four great waters met in wild abandon at the bottom of the chasm. He gazed across the canyon.
“This must be it.” Enoch whispered the old childling rhyme: “If by the gulf four rivers roam, never enter Adam’s home.”
A sharper inspection of the lush cliff on the other side rewarded his daring. Alroue. Tons of it decorated the precipice. It would be plenty—enough to sustain the Sons of Adam and keep the sickness at bay for at least seven, maybe eight more generations. This would buy them precious time needed for the Seed to fulfill the prophecy. I must reach it before nightfall.
Tubal-Cain’s familiar tracks were nowhere to be found, nor did the valley or rock-face reveal his presence. Perhaps, I bested my clever cousin this time. Enoch tied his pack around his waist, threw a lifeline across the canyon, and spanned the gulf with ease, landing just two paces from the alroue clusters. He edged toward them, using his carver to dig into the rock-strewn earth. In a matter of moments, he was there.
Praise the Light! Enoch swiftly uprooted the leafy vines and stuffed them into his sack, humming as its stinging aroma cleared his nostrils. Good—it’s not diminished. His limbs, used to hard labor, blistered under the strain. He ignored the pain and hummed louder, knowing he was close to success. 
Enoch’s tune was so merry, he didn’t notice the buzz of wingspan until something zoomed past his head and sliced his back. Enoch stumbled, almost dropping his sack to dodge the dactyl. The hungry bird of prey, easily fifteen spans wide, cocked its head and snapped its sharp beak. 
Enoch noticed his bloodstained hands and knees for the first time. He whistled to soothe its rebellion. “Easy now,” he cooed.
All living creatures knew life was in the blood. And now, as the sun stretched into slumber, the beast craved the crimson fluid as much as flesh itself. 
The dactyl circled and dove toward Enoch’s head, over and over. 
His carver connected with the beast, wounding it. But, his strength waned with the light. The bird was persistent. 
With blood dripping from its injured wing, it charged again—this time with sharp fangs and claws revealed.
A bit of alroue, might give me power to slay it. His stash was within reach. But how much? Too much might—
Enoch ducked as the bird whizzed by his shoulder.
No time.
Enoch lunged.
His carver sank deep into the bird.
He yanked it from the squawking animal, preparing to strike again. But his carver, slick with blood, slipped from his hand and plunged into the great waters below.
Enoch stared in defiance at the bird’s final approach.
Suddenly, the dactyl changed direction like a startled squirrel and flew across the the divide into the forest.
A familiar vibration shook the cliff.
Hot breath blew over his body like wind.
Some strange fascination made him look up. Human-like feet hovered over the turf only four paces above. A lion-like tail snapped to and fro, while its wings, feathered in downy magnificence, waved back and forth. It moved with unhurried grace.
Committed to his fate, Enoch arched back to see the horrible face. But all he saw was light—brilliant like the dawn, and a sword sharp enough to slice a sequoia. Great arms raised its silvery point high. The sword flashed in one silent motion. I was wrong about the favor of the Ancient One—I am not the Bearer.
Enoch, dazed by the radiance of the hidden face, prepared to receive judgment.
“Enoch.”
Did someone call me?
“Enoch.” 
There it was again, barely a whisper. 
“Come.”
Enoch ignored it. Not only am I going to die. I’m losing my mind.
“Come now,” the voice whispered once more. 
A calloused hand jerked his hand away from its hold on the crevice. This was not his imagination.
Enoch swung around with eyes narrowed. A man was clinging to the rock-face.
“I know a way out.” The stranger said, pulling him sideways. “Don’t look at the Cherub. Back off slowly.”
Enoch tried to follow the stranger’s lead without wincing. His hands were raw from gripping rocks. Alroue leaves floated away like feathers from the bottom of his ripped pack. Enoch grimaced, gnawing his lip, hating his tears. He strained to see the man better as he moved further from the glorious Cherub. Shoulders tanned by days in the light, bulged with brute strength as the stranger glided across the rocky surface. His hair was restrained at the nape with twine and bone. Pelts covered his loins, knees, and wrists, like the Tribe of Cain. Finally, they reached a narrow opening hidden by mossy vines.
Enoch increased his pace to catch the stranger. The man had probably seen the whole thing. Maybe the favor of the Ancient One is upon me after all. Enoch wanted to ask his name and thank him, but the stranger sped through the cave’s winding paths so fast, talking was impossible. Only a wooden stake the stranger lit with heaven’s fire provided shelter against the pitch-black maze. Enoch struggled to keep up, scraping his damaged knees with each misstep. The cave seemed to be swirling and shifting as he trudged through it.
I must be delirious. Enoch stumbled. If we don’t stop soon, I’ll collapse in this gloom and never find my way out. Oddly, the darkness began to lift. Dim golden light, seeped from the walls, illuminating the way to a sun-drenched opening. The stranger paused briefly.
“Wait!” Enoch panted, trying to catch up.
Just as he did, the man disappeared. Bright light cloaked him.
Enoch stepped through the entrance. Shards of light, logic and pain sliced through him, examining him, separating him until he was no more. Then after time had its way, it released him. Enoch touched his face, not sure it was still there, and tumbled into a clearing. 
Soft grass, luxuriant and green, embraced his aching feet. The sound of racing water drew his attention onward. An expansive river surged up a mountain range as firm as the ground beneath his feet—but transparent! If his sight were better, he was sure he could navigate the terrain on the other side. The alroue, he had risked his life to gather, grew in joyful abundance along the river’s bank. The stranger was nowhere to be found.