[Envinyatar]

Fear me!

An ocean of darkness spread over the forest floor. What once was white snow took on an inky hue. And even the thick trunked, tall trees were no proof against it. Miasmic waves rolled higher and higher, one upon the other, until even the fading light of evening was threatened to be quenched by it.

The two companions drew together; the hound gathered in close against them. Their backs pressed lightly together. Each held up the staff they’d brought; the fingers of their left hands wound tight about the thick dark wood of them. And all the while their open right hands were held shoulder high, palm outward, fingers standing tall together . . . the gesture of dispelling fear. In the eastern lands from where they’d journeyed it was the outer expression of their inner resolve. Their minds were calm; their breath steady. What light was left above them as the stars winked out glinted in their bright grey eyes.

Words hung in the air about them, though their lips seemed not to move. Soft, susurrant sounds like murmuring waves at first . . . gentle, almost, which pushed inexorably against the shadowy fear. They came more rapidly, then, in tones great and stern; the intricate syllables seeming much like the glitter of swords, like the rush of leaves in a great wind or the fall of stones in the mountains.

Akašân! they said as one. ‘He says!’

So be it . . . Akašân! they affirmed, the final n-sound sliding softly into silence.

They stood as stone, their eyes watchful, and about their still forms played a subtle and exquisite power.