Immortal Darkness: Shadow Across the Land (41 page)

Creating a break to the silence, Xemson asked
the two owlets, “Okay—are you guys ready to fly?”

With an enthusiastic smile swiping over his
face, Leyoht perked up, “Of course I’m ready to fly!”
I was born
to fly!

Stifling a small chuckle toward Leyoht’s
enthusiasm, Xemson instantaneously flicked his gaze onto his
daughter before continuing, “When you first fly, you
have
to
make sure you’re flapping your wings at a steady rhythm. Your
breathing should tell you just how well you’re doing.”

My breathing?

“You should try to breathe in—” it was at
this moment when Xemson raised his wings above his arched head.
“—when you lift your wings and out when you bring them down. That’s
a great way to keep your rhythm steady. A small pause infiltrated
the air before Xemson commanded to the children, “Do it with me;
breathe in.”

Slightly startled by Xemson’s sudden
commandment, Leyoht felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of his
head as he tried to match what Xemson had been doing. Back arched,
wings raised, and feet planted firmly in the ground, Leyoht
attempted to mimic Xemson’s actions.

How Biaulae could have so easily copied
Xemson’s actions was beyond Leyoht’s understanding. Leyoht himself
couldn’t seem to copy Xemson as perfectly as Biaulae. Such a fact
puzzled his mind.

Barely taking any acknowledgement toward
Leyoht’s inexperience, Xemson continued on with the owlets’
training when he continued, “Okay—now we’re going to learn about
speed. What we’re going to do is spread our wings out to our sides
and—without flapping them—run across the area. Like this.” Wings
extended out to his sides, Xemson demonstrated as clearly as he
could how the children should fly.

Running around and around in circles, he
explained over the wind in his ears, “just like this. Make sure
you’re not flapping.”

Why
wouldn’t
we flap?
Leyoht
asked himself. A grimace bestowed itself unto Leyoht’s face at this
moment.

Almost as if she’d the ability to read minds,
Biaulae nudged her friend on the shoulder and chirped, “C’mon! Stop
whining and do what he says!”

But I’m not whi—
It was before Leyoht
could have finished this silent sentence, however, when Xemson
commanded, “Go!” with enough force to shatter the eardrums of
anybody standing right in front of him.

Confusion coming to his feet once again,
Leyoht fumbled in his first attempt to run. Fortunately for him, he
was just in talon’s reach of Biaulae. The force of her pull on his
wings was enough to bring Leyoht back up on his feet in an instant.
Before he could have thanked her, Biaulae sneered, “You’re
welcome!”

A spark of slight annoyance flared up in
Leyoht’s head, but nevertheless, he spread his wings out to his
sides, angled them almost perpendicular to his c hest, and started
himself running. He could only imagine just how ridiculous both he
and Biaulae looked. At least nobody was able to glance over at
their direction. He couldn’t even
imagine
what kind of
humiliation he would have felt had the simulation become a
reality.

Unsure of which direction to strive toward,
Leyoht decided to follow Biaulae’s lead. At least
then
could
he be sure of where Xemson wanted them to go.

Soon had the time come when Leyoht’s heart
began to heave about in his chest. Wherever in his body it would
land would be a matter of chance. It wasn’t until Xemson hollered,
“Stop!” when Leyoht regained some control of his heart once
again.

What other pointless exercises are we
going to do now?
This next exercise, however, would
not
prove anywhere near as tedious as the last two. “Break time.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Leyoht leaned up
against a tree, its bark scratching up against his spine. It was at
this moment when Leyoht realized he was in a completely different
place from where he, Biaulae, and Xemson had first resided.

How long were we running?
Leyoht asked
himself. The atmosphere this place seemed to give off was that of a
dense, shady area. But at the same time, not a single stirring soul
rest amongst this area.
Right?

Rather than breathe and recover, Leyoht spent
the resting time Xemson had given him by observing this foreign
milieu. It almost came as a surprise when Leyoht heard the words,
“Okay; let’s do something else,” slip into his ear.

Oh darn it!
he silently cursed.
If
only I’d actually rested! What’s wrong with me?
Unfortunately,
Leyoht hadn’t any time to kick himself in the foot; he
had
to put his head back on the field of suspense.

Xemson came in with a loud “Okay,” and caught
the children’s attention. “I want you both to gain upwards momentum
while climbing up
that tree
.” All the while of explaining
this did Xemson point toward the very same tree Leyoht had just
leaned on.

With Xemson’s back turned on them, Leyoht
asked of Biaulae, “What is
momentum
?”

“It means force movement—or something like
that. My dad says it’s really good for flying upwards. But you
don’t want to lose it.”

This thought lingering about in his head, he
flapped his wings while simultaneously trying to clutch his talons
onto the bark of this tree. Over and over again did his talons slip
off the tree’s fabric.
What am I doing wrong?

“Leyoht!” called out Xemson without making a
single backwards gesture. “Make sure your wingbeats match a steady
rhythm.”

Maybe a faster pace will bring me up
faster,
Leyoht thought.
It has to!
This thought in mind,
he flapped his wings as rapidly as possible—yet still managed to
keep a steady beat. To his expectations, however, he tired out
quickly.”

“A fast pace isn’t necessarily the best one
to take,” informed Xemson. Even when expelling these words from his
beak did Xemson manage to keep his body locked in one place.

How is he doing that?
asked Leyoht. It
seemed—in his mind—that no creature on the face of Earth could have
withheld the ability to hear wingbeats.
Or—am I really being
that loud?
All he’d been able to hear while attempting to climb
the tree was the bodacious thumping of his heart.

Despite his difficulties in understanding
Xemson’s abilities, Leyoht smacked a claw onto the tree’s grain.
Giving his wings a few beats, he stuck his other talon into the
tree with as much force as possible. Allowing a slightly
distracting shockwave spread through is fingertips and up to his
legs, Leyoht continued his wingbeats—begging for the strength to
accomplish the task in front of him without losing his
momentum
.

These thoughts in mind, he found himself
reluctant to give his wings’ flapping a slight boost whenever he
shoved one of his claws into the tree. It was a slow process that
took time and patience to rise above—yet Leyoht eventually found
himself reaching a greater height than Biaulae. As long as he kept
up this pace, he knew, he would find himself touching the leaves at
the top of the tree.

Soon came the time when Leyoht was supposed
to parachute his way down to the ground.
This’ll be easy,
he
assured himself. Keeping this thought in mind, he yanked his talons
out of the tree for the last time.

Upon doing so, he bounced directly off of the
tree and attempted to ricochet over to Xemson. Rather than in
Xemson’s direction, however, Leyoht found himself floating down to
a solid, icy lake

Oops,
he suddenly resented. It was
while gliding down to this lake when Leyoht struggled to turn back
toward the tree. He tried over and over again to readjust himself
in midair—but to no avail. Just when he felt as if he’d
finally
done it right, Leyoht found himself plummeting
head-first into toward the very same tree he’d tried so long to
come up to.

This intervention lasted only a
heartbeat—ending in the collision of Leyoht’s head to the tree.

Crawling the tree from below, Biaulae found
herself ridden with shock—as if this would be her fate before too
long. Fear enveloped her heart and her mind until she silently
urged from him,
Don’t crash; don’t crash!

Before long Xemson finally turned his gaze
over to Leyoht—taking notice of the horror upon his face. “Leyoht!”
he called out just before flying to his aid.

It was before this moment, however, when
Leyoht began spinning down toward the ground. This very notion made
him motion-sick. Barely any time would have passed between Leyoht’s
current airtime and the moment he would end up drilling into the
ground.

I have to make this count!
Xemson
stressed. With every will, every muscle, every urge in his body, he
swept an upwards arch close to the ground just in time to save the
child. Upon making this arc, he reached out his talons toward
Leyoht just in time to stop any forward collision with the
ground.

Tears flowing from his clamped eyes, Leyoht
thought for sure he’d become a thing of the past. This was until he
opened his eyes and flicked a look up at Xemson.
He—he saved
me!
Witnessing her friend being caught in the talons of her
father allowed Biaulae to feel much safer had she made a mistake in
climbing.

Without any warning, Xemson placed Leyoht
down in the snow. Such an abrupt drop down to the ground gave
Leyoht no time to reach his feet down below. As a result, the owlet
landed on his face rather than on his feet. Coughing the snow from
his face, he picked himself up on his feet.
Well, that was
humiliating.

--

Not too long after Leyoht’s humiliation did
Biaulae finally jump off of the tree—successfully. This very
thought caused insects to fly about in his stomach.

Bright and shining, the afternoon sky showed
itself to Leyoht, Xemson, and Biaulae. Taking this occurrence
almost like an omen, Xemson decided to make an announcement to the
children. “Now it’s for the moment you’ve been waiting for.”

Oh boy!
Leyoht silently cried.
Finally!

Silence bestowed itself upon the children
before Biaulae wondered, “How are we going to do it?”

“Uhm,” Xemson thought for a minute.
What
should I make them do? I’ve pretty much used up every good
idea.
Uncertain of what he should do, he came to the
conclusion, “Get flapping!”

Before even flapping could he fell wind
brushing past his ears. Such an array of wind seemed to whisper to
him,
Go ahead—follow your dreams
.

I will,
responded Leyoht. So sure of
himself and so sure of his experience, he began to flap his wings
at random. It was before getting too carried away, however, when he
violently reminded himself,
Rhythm! I have to keep a steady
rhythm!
Successfully had he avoided another reminder from
Xemson.

Hoping to copy Biaulae’s techniques, Leyoht
looked over his shoulder and back over to her.
Even
Biaulae
is having trouble?

Leyoht spoke the truth; not only could
Biaulae keep a steady beat, but her left and right wings didn’t
both flap at the same time. Knowing that Biaulae couldn’t help him,
Leyoht decided to listen again to the wind.

Suave and extant, this wind continued to
palatably brush past the young owl’s ears with every flap of his
wings. Commending voices from this wind continued to call out,
Push on—push on!
almost as if they reveled their helping of
Leyoht.

I have to keep a steady beat
, he
constantly reminded himself, trying to ignore the voices in his
head. It was just after uttering these silent words when Xemson
called out from Leyoht’s back, “Come on! You can do it!” Leyoht,
however, heard, “Come on! —do it!” Feeling as if he were to be
chastised by the
rancor
Xemson, he pushed on harder—all the
while trying not to panic.

Upon making sure Xemson was nowhere near him,
Leyoht took a look over at his rather ardent friend. From what his
eyes had come to tell him, she wasn’t doing much better than last
time he’d seen her.

Biaulae’s wingbeats came off as limpidly
vociferous—as if she were going through a chaotic time. Panic and
an oversaturation of enthusiasm corroded into her mind, causing her
to make herself look as if she were purposely deviating from the
proper flying technique. This all added up to the point where
Xemson walked up to his ingenuous daughter.

“Biaulae, stop,” he commanded.

“No!” the recalcitrant owlet snapped. “I can
do this!”

Leyoht looked over to his friend, noticing
her inability to commend her father’s words. She hadn’t the ability
to inter her impatience; hadn’t the aptitude to waive her
techniques. How long would it be before Biaulae finally amended her
flying style?

Hoping to obviate Biaulae’s mistakes, Leyoht
continued to flap his wings. Over and over again did he remind
himself of the dangers impatience could bring. Flapping his squalid
black wings, Leyoht began to feel lighter—yet even then he found
his wings giving off a decrepit feel.

“Come on Leyoht,” Xemson kept on shouting,
“after this you won’t need anyone to get your own food; you’ll get
it by yourself!”

I know!
Leyoht kept replying silently.
What had he done to make himself so reprehensible? Hoping to remain
apathetic, the black snowy owl was flapping his wings harder and
harder with every passing heartbeat.

Within time Leyoht’s wings seemed to
spontaneously flap on their own accord. Within heartbeats Leyoht
felt an overwhelming urge to exult as the result of a sudden
realization: he was no longer touching the ground.

Still on the ground, Biaulae took a look up
at Leyoht and immediately halted her flapping. It was at this
moment when she noticed how obsolete her own wingbeats truly were.
How brash had she been acting? What kind of indemnity was her
father paying for her? She at least felt thankful for Xemson’s
parsimonious behavior.