Chapter 3 - Tubal-Cain

Tubal-Cain adjusted his pack, bulging with tools, for the tenth time. The simple task reassured him. “You won’t catch me off guard, Cousin,” he muttered as he hacked through rods of sweet branch canes. Tubal-Cain’s thoughts circled like the sing-sing birds soaring overhead. Get rid of Enoch. Find the alroue. Return before sun sleep. Get rid of—
He’d accomplished the first task easy enough. He and Enoch reached the tall Father Trees leading to Avenland Forest just three shades past sun’s birth. “Dedici, a letos,” he’d told Enoch, using Father Adam’s tongue to endear himself to his cousin. If he’d simply said, “Enoch, let’s separate” after they’d agreed to search together, Enoch might have become suspicious. He remembered with satisfaction how easily he’d handled his cousin’s questions. How easily he’d convinced Enoch to travel with him in the first place—
“Enoch, honored one dedicated to the Ancient, why should we carry the arguments of our fathers when our load is heavy enough? Forget the test. We should find the alroue together and share Adam’s rule.”
“Praise the Light! That’s what I was thinking. We both probably carry the Seed. There’s no reason for us to be enemies. The Elders will listen when they see we obtained the alroue as brothers.”
Tubal-Cain was no fool. The Elders might be confused, but he was not. He sensed the strength of the One Mind resting on Enoch before. During the hunt at the last New Sun Celebration, the One Mind increased their stamina for many spaces because of Enoch. They’d hunted all day, and even through the night, until they captured enough beasts to sustain the tribes. He knew staying close to Enoch was the only way he could run the 300 lengths from camp to Avenland and be sure his little cousin wouldn’t beat him to the forest. “Child! You might best me in the plains, but here, we’re even.” Tubal-Cain chuckled, remembering how he covered his tracks as soon as they separated—
“Dedici, you go to the left. I will go right. We’ll circle and meet.”
“True.” Enoch agreed. “We can cover more ground that way. I’ll find you at the end of each space.”
Instead, Tubal-Cain poured wolf urine along the trail—the foul odor masked everything. Not even Enoch could trace his scent now. Then again, I can’t track him either. Tubal-Cain snapped a bulky rod in half with his bare hands. No mind, I don’t need him. He adjusted his pack and continued forging through the brush, muttering under his breath. Find the alroue. Return before sun sleep. Find the—
Tremble.
Adamah’s blood! Tubal-Cain halted, rubbing his sweaty palms against his legs. Listen, listen, listen. You must listen to overcome. He drilled Father Lamech’s advice until he was as still as a lion. Even the creeping things stopped chirping.
Tremble.
Purple petals fell from the Father Trees. He was far from their beckoning cover. One false move and—he formed a plan.
I’ll kill it.
Adamah’s blood! He tightened his grip on his ax. I don’t have shades to waste on a kill. I must find the alroue. Tubal-Cain grabbed his rope. I can use the beast to cover more ground. He crouched and waited.
“Listen, fool.” His father’s familiar rebuke echoed in his mind. The melody of the sing-sing birds broke his concentration and the smell of something else—dew. Great quantities of it. I must be close. Alroue grows near rushing waters. Tubal-Cain waited. The beast moved on. He sighed—no ride today.
Tubal-Cain surveyed the forest again, noticing the downward slope. He inhaled great gulps of earth’s breath, locating the source. It was coming from sun’s home on his right. Tubal ran toward it and into the forest of towering Father Trees.
Tubal-Cain cocked his head to the side. The smell of dew was much stronger here. He ran like a bear through the woods, using his eight-foot frame to pummel through low branches. A small hopper scurried out of his way, as did all the living creatures in the wood. Tubal-Cain still exuded Father Adam’s dominant force. When he appeared, animals ran.
The downward slant increased his momentum. The alroue is probably at the bottom, near the great waters. Tubal-Cain skipped over the rocks and roots in the craggy hill, running as fast as he could.
Thump-thump-thump.
The rhythm of his feet echoed his thoughts. Get rid of Enoch. Find the alroue. Return before sun-sleep.
The sound of rushing waters spurred him forward. “By Adamah’s blood! I will win,” he swore. Tubal-Cain threw his arms up in victory, anxious to claim the alroue.
Bam!
Pain ripped through his head like sharp needles. Speckled lights flashed. Tubal-Cain lay flat on his back, dazed, ground swaying. He tried to force the earth still, grasping at loose rocks. It didn’t stop swerving but steadied him enough to see his leg tangled in a protruding vine. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Tubal-Cain flopped back. New waves of nausea and more colored lights greeted him as he looked to the sky for help. The dimming blue was unconcerned and on schedule. “By Adamah’s blood!” Tubal-Cain swore. “Darkness will rise in two spaces. Must get up. Must find water. Must make shelter. Forget the alroue ‘til new light comes.”
Ignoring his throbbing head, Tubal-Cain pushed with all his might to lift his torso and examine his injuries. His right ankle was bruised and swollen, but his leg seemed to be okay. His knee, on the other hand, hid behind his leg. Tubal-Cain tried massaging it into place. He grunted and collapsed again, clasping his head with both hands. He drew them to his face. Blood. Warm handfuls of it filled his fists as he opened and closed them in disbelief. Must find water. Must find alroue. Must make shelter. He would need the alroue now to survive.
Tubal-Cain groaned as he rolled his weight onto his side. Long twisted locks of hair matted with blood fell in his face. Dizziness returned with pounding pain. He grasped the base of a childling fir and hoisted himself onto his good leg. He tried to adjust his pack in vain, gasping for breath. He forsook the habit, realizing he would need all his strength to reach the river. Tubal-Cain propped himself against the tree, snapped off two low branches for support, and began his trek again—hobbling down the hill, one agonizing step at a time.
Tubal-Cain stopped to check his head again. It oozed. He’d been wounded before, of course—once a rebellious mammoth lion clawed his entire right side. But the superficial wound healed in a few shades, leaving no trace of the attack. “This must be a piercing wound, the kind I usually give.” Tubal-Cain berated himself. “Father Lamech would kill me himself if he could see me now.”
The bloody flow streaming down his face drove him to the river. If alroue grew there, its power might conquer even a piercing wound. He’d seen alroue bring a wounded man back from the edge of darkness. “Must find water. Must find alroue. Must make shelter,” Tubal-Cain repeated, forcing himself to move.
He was cold. The sun descended through towering trees. Creeping things screeched.
Skwee-skwee.
Their cadence introduced the night.
Living things, which normally fled from his presence, watched his downhill trek with no sympathy. Golden pairs of eyes stared through deepening shadows.
A howl no more than a space away reverberated through the woods.
He shivered. “Wolves!”
Tubal-Cain rushed downward on the make-shift crutches—step, thump, step, thump, step, thump.
Each motion destroyed cartilage and released more blood.
Must make it to the river. Must make it to the river. Must make it to the river. If he did, alroue or not, he could at least cover his scent and escape a ravenous attack.
A dactyl dove through the branches and landed high in the treetops. Waiting.
Let him dine on the wolves. Triumph was just ahead—tumbling rapids sparkled in the moonlight, inviting him to plunge in. I can float downstream, make camp, and find alroue at sun’s birth. Wolves never enter the great waters, not even to satisfy their craving for blood.
“Almost there. Almost there. Almost there,” he whispered.
A mangy, gray and black, four-legged creature appeared, silent as a specter.
Tubal-Cain stopped his rhythmic hobble.
The wolf rose on its hind legs, blocking his path to the river.
Tubal-Cain clenched the rods in his aching hands as if his grip alone could subdue the wolf.
It glared at Tubal-Cain through cold yellow eyes. Saliva dripped from its outstretched tongue—its coarse panting taunted him.
“By Adamah’s blood, I will kill this insolent beast,” Tubal-Cain swore, poising himself to strike the creature with his rods. He shifted all his weight to his good leg and swung.
Whack!
The wolf barked and rolled onto its back as the thick branch struck him.
Tubal-Cain lifted his rod to finish the job, striking the wounded wolf again and again until it lay motionless before him. His heart pounded. He was winded. Fresh blood gushed from the wound in his head. Then he saw them.
Three pairs of golden eyes, materialized from the shadows.
Tubal-Cain’s spine was on fire. Sensation and experience told him there were at least two more wolves behind him. Now that he wasn’t distracted, he could see their defiant approach. How dare these wolves hunt him, a Son of Adam, as if he were another dumb beast! Tubal-Cain swept both rods in broad circles as he balanced on his good leg. The wolves circled as well, snarling and dashing, looking for an opportunity to strike. Tubal-Cain stumbled. They’re trying to tire me out.
Tubal-Cain swung wildly now, hobbling and hitting as many beasts as he could. Injured wolves yelped and thudded to the ground. “Is that all?” He kept spinning, swinging the rods round and round until a maimed wolf leaped through the onslaught and bit his good leg. Fresh pain forced him down. The remaining wolves charged instantly, biting him repeatedly. Tubal-Cain tried to beat them back with his bare arms while he covered his face, but he was no match for the razor-sharp fangs ripping his flesh.
Sssp. Sssp.
The beast at his face fell backwards.
Sssp. Sssp.
Another wolf dropped—his mouth still open in frozen attack.
Sssp. Sssp.
The last beast collapsed. Speckled lights danced before his eyes. The earth was moving again. Tubal-Cain clutched the dust. “Can’t stop. Can’t stop. Can’t stop. Must find alroue. Must find alroue.” He gasped, talking to the swirling lights.
Then darkness lifted him with strong hands and carried him through the woods.

###

Enoch inhaled crisp air. Could this be? No! Impossible. But those mountains, and that scent— 
Enoch racked his brain. Even with his significant knowledge of vegetation in Adam’s Realm, he could not place the aroma. It was sweet like the jasmine hanging along the edge of Avenland Forest. “But, it’s not jasmine,” he mumbled, searching for the source, “it’s more delicate.”
He limped to the crystal waters, drawn by an overwhelming desire to touch the jubilant rapids crashing against the bank. He peered through its depths. It went on forever, reflecting his marred appearance and the beauty around him. He cupped handfuls of cool water and splashed it over his blood-stained face and limbs.
“It’s the water!”
The strange, sweet aroma was coming from the river. Enoch smacked the water, laughing like a childling as the spray splattered his face. Enoch tossed more and more of the refreshing liquid over his body, only stopping long enough to quench his thirst. He drank deep gulps, sputtered, and drank even more. He fell back, giggling at his urgency. “Enoch, you fool,” he scolded himself, “There’s plenty. No need to—"
Smooth, tanned skin and a set of bright black eyes stared back at him. He touched his face. No scars. No marks. Not even familiar blemishes from old wounds spoiled his features. He studied the river again, remembering the elder women speak of it at night, reciting tales to soothe children too sick to sleep.
“The River of Life?” Enoch’s voice was barely audible. “Is this the Garden of Eden?”
He jumped to his feet, surveying the landscape.
The unusually large fragrant trees lining the riverbank, the strange humongous fruit, his miraculous healing—
“Praise the Light!” Enoch leaped with joy along the cultivated paths. “Father Adam and Mother Eve said it was beautiful. But I did not imagine how much!”
Then he saw it.
One tree dominated the others. The giant among giants grew, somehow, on both sides of the river. As he approached the shade of its branches, its heady fragrance permeated the area. It was pleasant and delicate. It reminded him of something—the water. The essence of the tree has saturated the river. I drank and it restored me, instantly—this must be the Tree of Life!
“Is the curse over? The Ancient One has shown me favor, for truth. But this,” he reasoned out loud, looking again at the alroue flourishing by the riverside, “This is more than I expected. If I bring back the fruit from the Tree of Life, we will not die—ever.” Enoch walked cautiously toward the tree and paused. “I dare not take of the Tree without permission.”
He knelt by the trunk. “Hidden Father, if it is Your will, give me of the tree so I and my people might live.” Enoch waited. Only the sounds of a gentle breeze blowing through the leaves broke the silence. He rested against the trunk of the tree listening intently, watching, hoping an answer would come.
Enoch rose with a heavy sigh and headed toward the alroue growing along the banks, knowing that no answer was His answer. Father Adam had taught him that. He knew the stories. How many times had the First Father prayed and begged that the curse might be removed, that they might be allowed to enter the Garden again only to hear—nothing. I could take the fruit, but if too much alroue was enough to kill a man, then what of this tree’s essence? If I take the fruit and die, no one will know what happened to me and the suffering ones, waiting for the alroue, would surely die. No, I will not put their lives in more danger. The Ancient One guided me to the alroue and that is enough.
He thought again of the stranger who had led him to the Garden. Where was he? Who was he? How did he discover the hidden passage to the Garden when none of the elders knew of it?
“After I gather the alroue, I’ll find him and thank him,” Enoch walked along the clusters by the riverbed, searching for the cave entrance. Not only was there no cave entrance—there were no caves in sight! I must have traveled further than I thought. A gentle wind blew across the waters and ruffled his hair. The favor of the Ancient One is upon me. Enoch smiled. Might as well get what I came for.
Enoch plucked up alroue by the stalks, careful not to damage the complex root system, and stacked it in neat piles.
“Tis a shame,” Enoch berated himself, “What would Jared say? The best tracker of the Tribe of Seth, lost!” In his excitement, well no one could fault him for that, he forgot the first rule of the Trackers—always mark your path. Now he must find the stranger to get home.

###

“Feisty little thing isn’t it?” Hazazel turned the spit over the flames.
“Sure, it was cunning enough, it was, a good find too,” Yamezerak said. “Semjaza will enjoy the tale. You made sure of that.”
“Well I had to see how it would react. I wasn’t sure the babbling thing had sense or not. The confrontation with the wolves was revealing.”
“Good sport, it was. The bows are slow, but precise enough.” Yamezerak pulled the roasted flesh from the bone, offering it to Hazazel. “It’s good hot, worth my strength, too.”
“The senses don’t interest me now. Perhaps later, I’ll try your concoction. The bloody thing is waking up.” Hazazel rose to get a better look. The crescent moon barely illuminated the shivering, maimed figure lying just outside the fire’s reach. The sound of rushing water drowned out their chatter and filled the air with a fine, perpetual mist. Hazazel welcomed the spray and the additional guest.
“You should move it by the fire. Perhaps it will improve. Those wounds look terrible. Never seen anything like it, I haven’t. I did tell you to do something sooner,” Yamezerak said in between bites of cooked meat.
“Well, it’s by the river now, just like it wanted. How was I to know it wouldn’t do something on its own? I was waiting for something fantastic, something surprising. Instead, it just let those fur balls have their way.”
‘Indeed, it was pitiful, it was. You did save it. Very dramatic.” Yamezerak tossed the remaining bones into the fire.
“Perhaps you’re right. The fire might do it some good. I want to question it before we show it to Semjaza. He hates to be bored. If it’s dull, I’ll give it back to the wolves.” Hazazel laughed. “It’d be better to face the wolves again, than to bore Semjaza.”
“True.” Yamezerak chuckled.
Hazazel walked toward the broken figure, lifted it effortlessly and dumped it next to the smoldering embers. “There, that should do it.” He sat across from Yamezerak. “Maybe I will try a bit of our catch. This is taking longer than I thought.”
“Warmth alone is not enough,” Yamezerak said, peering into its face. “Ono shatah besi ma koo rou,” he spoke softly as he touched the gaping wound on the side of its head.
“What are you doing?’ Hazazel asked.
“The words of the Ancient One work here as well.” Yamezerak grabbed a handful of warm ashes and rubbed it into the wound.
“Curious.” Hazazel stared as new skin formed and sealed the injury.
“Neme shatah koo rou so ve mesi.” He continued moving his hands over the vicious bites on its forearms and hands. Smooth skin appeared again. “Atah shatah koo rou me kees tonah.” The warped knee shifted into place and the swollen ankle returned to normal.
“Interesting. How did you learn forming?”
“It’s really not forming, it isn’t. It’s more like—” Yamezerak searched for the right word. “Later—it’s awake.”
Hazazel and Yamezerak leaned within inches of its dark dazed eyes, waiting for it to speak.

###

Tubal-Cain blinked, confused by the golden spheres dancing before his eyes. “The piercing wound must have damaged my sight.” He closed his eyes to still the dizziness and opened them again, blinking rapidly. Two lighted figures hovered over him.
“Cover yourself.” Hazazel spoke without words. 
Yamezerak made the adjustment in silent agreement.
Tubal-Cain squeezed his eyes shut. “By Adamah’s blood,” he swore under his breath, “I am seeing what is not.” Then he remembered. “The wolves! Am I dead? I could be dead.” The familiar scent of charred meat and burning ash filled the air. No. These are camp smells. He opened his eyes—two unusually large men, peered down at him. Tubal-Cain tried to stand but could only lift his torso. 
“What tribe are they from?” he wondered. They looked like Seth’s kin, but too big. He had never seen men this tall before. Tubal-Cain measured himself at just a hand’s span over eight feet. These men were at least two heads taller than he. They must have killed the wolves before he lost the knowing. He must thank them, repay the deed, as was custom. He decided to use Father Adam’s tongue, instead of Cain’s way, to greet them.
“Greetings brothers, in the name of the Ancient One and Adam’s land. I perceive you have paid me a great kindness this night’s fall. Please honor me with your name and your father’s name that I might thank you and reward your strength.”
“You may honor me with the name Hazazel. Greetings to you and your kinsmen,” he said smoothly, imitating the old tongue immediately.
“Kind we were, indeed. You may honor me with the name Yamezerak.”
“My father, brothers and I are grateful for your help this eve,” Tubal-Cain said, using the customary greeting on behalf of his family. “How did you come to be in the wood?’
“Yamezerak and I were hunting the wolves this eve and tracked them to you.”
“You hunt in the eve?” Tubal-Cain asked. ‘Impressive—no men hunt after sun’s sleep!”
“Certainly so. There is no reason to deny ourselves sporting when we choose. Darkness does not affect our skills.”
“You are unique then among the brothers. Our hunters only use their skills during sun’s wake. Which tribe are you from and which father guides you?” Tubal-Cain asked again.
“Our father is well acquainted with Father Adam, but our tribe has not communed with the brothers in some time. But enough about us, friend. We must know more about you. You have not honored us with your name.” Hazazel gave Yamezerak a warning glance.
“Oh, truth.” Tubal-Cain rose to correct his blunder. “I am—” He could stand on both legs! His muscles were a little stiff from his ordeal, but otherwise, he felt surprisingly well. Tubal-Cain’s mouth gaped open as he touched his head, searching for the piercing wound. It was gone. He looked at Hazazel and Yamezerak, awestruck. “I-I am Tubal-Cain,” he stuttered, “a son of Father Cain and a seventh son of Adam. How did, I mean, what happened—”
Hazazel ignored Yamezerak’s glare and gave Tubal-Cain’s the customary kiss on both cheeks. “My dear brother, you owe many thanks to Yamezerak for his healing touch.” 
“You have alroue?” Tubal-Cain asked eagerly.
“Sit. Refresh yourself.” Hazazel smiled and patted the spot beside him. “Yamezerak has a fine meal prepared, fitting for a son of Adam. Tell us about your journey”
Tubal-Cain berated himself silently. Fool! Of course, pleasantries were expected. These men weren’t savages. “Pardon my haste.” Tubal-Cain chose one of the seven large stones surrounding the blaze and joined Hazazel and Yamezerak around the fire.
Yamezerak offered Tubal-Cain a skewer of roasted meat and savory herbs.
“I came to Avenland Forest last sun’s wake in search of alroue,” Tubal-Cain said, tearing the meat off the skewer. “This is good. With what did you prepare it? These flavors are unknown to us.”
“Yamezerak is quite the cook.” Hazazel laughed at Tubal-Cain’s hasty bites. “Perhaps, you should eat more often.”
“It is a simple thing to roast the meat, it is. A few leaves here and there add essence to the bland flesh. But what is this alroue you speak of? Do you cook with it?” asked Yamezerak.
“Oh, no. We don’t cook with it. Well, at times it is prepared as a drink with heaven’s tears,” Tubal-Cain said, grabbing more skewers. “We mostly use it to heal our broken flesh and lessen the pain of our sins. Our alroue is almost gone and most of our clan has the sickness. The Elders sent me to get more.”
“If this alroue is so important,” Hazazel said, “it was unwise of your elders to only send one. A group would have been better, then you would not have fallen into the wolves’ trap.”
“You speak truth. In past suns, the elders sent a team of trackers to gather alroue, but the last two teams never returned—except for one scout—and he came back dumb and mute! The woods be dangerous now with things seen and unseen. Only a man favored by the Ancient One could enter and return alive. So, the Elders sent me and my cousin Enoch to determine which of us be the favored one—we’re both sevenths you see,” Tubal-Cain explained, holding up his braided, golden band.
“What are sevenths?” Yamezerak asked.
“A seventh son, of course,” Tubal-Cain stared at him as if he were dumb and mute. “The Ancient created Adamah in six spans and rested on the seventh. So, the elders say a seventh son will break the curse. All sevenths get a golden band and a chance to rule.”
“But I thought the Ancient formed Adam from the dust of the ground and breathed into him after the seventh day. So, wouldn’t that make the eighth day special. Why not send the eighth son?”
Tubal-Cain frowned. “What?”
“A challenge, you say? How delightful!” Hazazel glared at Yamezerak and changed the subject. “What would the winner of this challenge receive?”
“The first man to return with alroue will be chosen as the Bearer of the Seed and rule the Sons of Adam. Since our First Father’s death, we have had nothing but trouble between the clans. Only the Bearer can lead us in the path of the Ancient One and reverse the curse.”
“Interesting.” Hazazel stoked the fire. “Did you find this alroue?”
“No. I was close to the source by the Great Waters when the wolves attacked.” His eyes smoldered like the cinders. “Devilish beasts! They will pay for my trouble once I find the alroue.” Tubal-Cain thrust the last of the skewers into the fire. “I must get to the river, find the alroue and return before Enoch!”
“Can’t you hear the rushing water? You’re near the Great River Gihon. Search for the alroue now and seize this prize for yourself,” Hazazel directed him to the crystal current a few paces away.
“By Adamah’s blood, I will.”
Tubal-Cain dashed toward the river, bursting through the vegetation as he furiously searched for the telltale emerald leaves with small white petals.
“Hazazel,” Yamezerak scolded, “You really shouldn’t tease him. You know there is no alroue along the southern banks of the Gihon. He must search near the Garden’s Gate to find it.”
“But this is so much fun. Real sporting. Semjaza will enjoy this game.”
“The Ancient will not approve,” Yamezerak said. “We are only supposed to observe, not interfere.”
“I’m not interfering,” Hazazel said. “If I were interfering, I would tell him where the alroue grows and help him win the contest. But I’m not doing that, am I? I’m merely encouraging him to keep searching and not give up. Besides, shouldn’t we have a little fun while we are here?’
“Perhaps a very small amusement is permissible.” Yamezerak watched Tubal-Cain pick up clump after clump of the leafy clusters and toss them angrily into the river. “He will figure it out soon.”
“I know what would be fun. Let’s see how many tries it will take him to conclude that the alroue is not here. I say 1,099 times!” Hazazel laughed so hard he almost transformed.
“Shush, he almost saw you. Maintain your appearance and calm yourself. Besides, it will take just short of 1,700 tries at the most.” Yamezerak whispered, barely concealing his toothy grin. “There won’t be a shred of green left if he keeps this up. Hazazel, you really should say something.”
“Tubal-Cain!” Hazazel shouted. “Have you found it yet? Surely the next cluster will reward your efforts.”
Tubal-Cain shook his head and ripped through the vegetation even faster.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” Hazazel finally controlled his chuckles. “I’ll give our catch a hand. His determination is inspiring.”
“Must find the alroue, return before Enoch,” Tubal-Cain muttered as he charged back and forth in large arcs, tearing every green leaf in sight.
Hazazel strolled toward Tubal-Cain, searching the ground as he neared. “I don’t see it either. Perhaps, the light of sun’s wake will aid you? You might destroy the alroue trudging about in darkness. You’ve gotten along without it this long, waiting a few more spaces will do no harm.”
Tubal-Cain stopped in his tracks. Fistfuls of leaves and dirt fell from his hands. “By Adamah’s blood, you’re right! My vicious wounds are no more, thanks to the power worked by Yamezerak. And no alroue did this healing, for you didn’t know of it, nor was it used upon me—I would have smelled the strong essence, for truth. The Ancient One must have guided me tonight through these dangerous woods, knowing I would find you.”
“But I—”
Tubal-Cain rushed on, silencing Hazazel’s interjection. “Far be it from the Ancient One to force a Son of Adam, bearing His image, to be subject to the power of a mere vine.
“Well I don’t—”
Tubal-Cain pressed forward with the excitement of someone discovering treasure.
“Surely another brother bearing His likeness and the power of the Light must be the source of our redemption. My brothers, you are better than any alroue! Come now. Tell me how this wondrous deed was done,” Tubal-Cain insisted breathlessly. “You must return with me so we may share this Light with the others. Our sons and daughters will be redeemed through you!”
Hazazel’s confident smile faded. They are not like intelligent beasts shoved into the image of the Beloved. Hazazel remembered Lord L’s complaint. They are something more.
“Perhaps this is truth,” Hazazel said, composing his words carefully.
“Why the delay brother?” Tubal-Cain was eager.
“Brother, I do not have the authority to share this knowledge,” Hazazel said.
“Who has the authority? We must appeal to him quickly.” Tubal-Cain was determined. “Enoch may find the alroue first and deliver a false cure to our people. He will be selected as the Bearer and mislead us.”
“Patience, friend,” Hazazel said. “If this be the will of the Ancient One, we will learn of it soon enough. He cannot be thwarted by neither time nor man. Rest now and we will seek wisdom from our leader, Semjaza.”