The Balinor Chronicle: The Celestial Herd
Chapter Forty: Slain the Wind
Leaves have their time to fall,
And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath,
And stars to set; but all,
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
John Milton, The Hour of Death
Slain the wind, to never run
Across wide plains again.
Slain the breeze, the gentle breeze
Whose greatest deeds are den.
From The Ballad of Jensh, sung in Terra
For it was the wind that decided their destiny; it was the wind that brought them home. It was the wind that bonded them all the closer; and it was the wind that bellowed new fire in their hearts.
For it was the wind that saved their lives.
At so great a cost. Or, if the new train of thought is right, perhaps the trade was more equal than the philosophers originally thought. But I overstep my bounds; I am a storyteller, not a thaumatosopher. You only need know that it happened. And, at the time, the price was great. And, at the time (and many times after, I might add), what was saved seemed so little in comparison.
It began with the wind.
The brothers, the twins who have already seen so much, were, like most of their age, playing. Gaheris was playing as Mulciber (a reasonable choice for him) and Raiden was being Terrenus (seemingly illogical, but that would be Raiden)… or maybe it was Gaheris who was Terrenus and Raiden who was Mulciber…. Or perhaps it wasn't even Terrenus at all, but Hephaestus instead.
Well, they were playing. In fact, much the way that boys get so involved in Coppers and Robbers, these two were involved in Elemental and Twilight picket. Very involved. In fact, long since given up the whole idea that they should be on opposite side the duo were streaking across the plain, the wind leading them on, in close pursuit of imaginary Twilights. Interestingly enough, they were actually heading straight towards the real Twilight pickets; and they probably would have collided at one point or another had the colorless foals not, um, ran (literally) into a group of training Sentinels.
It began with the wind, and it was continued by the Wind.
Aeoleus, king of the Wind, founder of the Sentinels, had been helping the generals train their newest recruits. Aeoleus, sire of many foal herded the renegade friends home. There is no speaking as they run home, the foals galloping while the Elemental keep to a flowing collected canter, but the conversation they have needs no words. It is one of those times when no one need say anything, but all leave feeling it was the best conversation that the world had ever seen.
It is in this time that Raiden and Gaheris know, not just want, but actually know that they will become Sentinels. Perhaps Aeoleus will throw his weight so they can enter, for in truth, he has taken a great liking to these little two. Perhaps their father will, for they are, after all, his. Perhaps they won't even need that, but earn their way through merit. But they will become Sentinels.
It is in this time of momentary far-seeing that Raiden can taste the bitterness of regret, the tang of fear, the sourness of pain, the salty drink of betrayal, and the pure sweetness of acceptance. It is in this time that Gaheris can feel the wings of joy, the wounds of war, the kick of treachery, and the utter bliss of victory. Though they are too young to connect images with this knowledge, they are old enough to know that they have just crossed a line that they can't go back on; perhaps, even, the line that mean they are no longer mere foals.
It is in this time that the changes in the wind alert Aeoleus. It is in this time that he knows that he is going to die. He can even see his murderers.
It began with the wind, was continued by the Wind, and was told by the wind.
Aeoleus pulls up quickly keeping the foals out of the others' lines of sight. He tells them under no uncertain terms that since they will become Sentinels, they must listen to him. No matter what happens, they will not stop. No matter what happens, they will not try to help. No matter what happens, they will run as fast as they can home. And when he has their promise, they continue on their way.
For if Aeoleus was to simply pull off his whole Wind Lord trick, he could easily escape the Twilights following them. But he would be forced to leave the foals behind. The Twilights might kill them. They might not. They might not have fallen that far yet. But if Aeoleus were to leave them behind, he would have to live with that for the rest of his life. And Elementals live very, very long lives.
So Aeoleus himself will stay behind, letting the foals go on ahead. He isn't trying to be noble, chivalrous, or any one of those other ideas invented by unrealistic authors. He does it because he must. Because he will not be Aeoleus if he does not.
And that is perhaps where the truest line between good and evil is drawn.
So as the Twilight scouts, who weren't really supposed to do any fighting, but can't resist an open target close in on the trio, the twins break lose. And the Twilight leader must make a very fast decision.
Proteus doesn't see two generals streaking away, or two Sentinels, or even two soldiers. He sees a pair of long-legged younglings not even out of their white coat. He could send just one of his stallions after them, but Proteus needs every horn he can get. So he lets them live. Perhaps if he had the gift of far-sight, he wouldn't have, for that decision would haunt he and his masters until the end of their days.
Proteus and his men descend upon Aeoleus. And even an Elemental cannot fight that many horns. As he falls to the relentless stabbing and spearing of the Twilights, Aeoleus lets out one last desperate whinny. And Raiden, like Lot's wife at Sodom, does something he will regret for the rest of his life. He looks back.
"Aeoleus!"
Gaheris pulls up, trying to push his brother along, so that the Twilights won't decide to go for an easy set of targets. He stops, panting, unsuccessful. "We promised, Raiden," he pleads with his larger brother, "we promised. We must go back. We… we must warn the others."
Raiden stares at the fallen Elemental, stares as the Twilight horns seem to pierce mist instead of wind. But hears his brother's words, and he knows he is right. As they turn and run, a colossal gust of wind pushes them along even faster.
It began with the wind, and was continued by the Wind, and was told by the wind.
It ended with the wind racing them home