Authors: Stephen Zimmer
Yet as the Lnuk warrior had said, the Shrakas paid little heed to the watercrafts. The hulking creatures were apparently content to shadow the schools of the larger type of fish, who would quickly be making one of nature’s age-old transitions from hunter to hunted.
Janus could feel the tension leaving the air as the great fins drifted away from the canoes, the triangular forms fading behind them with the churning waters from the schools of fish. Yet he barely had time to recover a normalcy of heart rate before the convoy was greeted with yet another incredible view.
About a mile beyond the sighting of the Shrakas, the occupants of the canoes all saw an immense tail fin break the surface of the water. Off to the right, a little farther off, Janus saw what looked at first to be an island. The seeming island then visibly moved, though, just as Ayenwatha enlightened them to its real nature. A moment later, Janus saw the tail fin and body of a second enormous form in the distance, the great fluke breaking above the surface as the whale plunged to feed in the lower depths.
The forms belonged to a colossal type of whale. The gigantic creatures, by Ayenwatha’s description, and Janus’ sight of them, were again substantially larger than their counterparts back in his former world. The sight was at once sobering and breathtaking, and his eyes remained riveted upon their tremendous forms until they too faded from sight.
With the exception of a small number of diminutive, flying reptilian creatures, which glided along the air currents overhead, the convoy encountered no more strange or daunting wildlife during their passage. Janus was not quite sure that his nerves would be able to handle many more surprises, especially considering the immense scale of some of Ave’s incredible denizens.
The strange, intimidating creatures were a strong reinforcement to Janus that he still knew very little about their new world. The recognition of that reality also brought with it an increased measure of gratitude towards Ayenwatha and the Onan, for their unwavering patronage of the exiles.
It was less than an hour later that their destination finally came into view, a timely development as there was not much daylight remaining. At first, their goal was just a hazy lump on the edge of Janus’ vision. Gradually, its features emerged into greater clarity, revealing a long, low island.
Ayenwatha, the warriors, and the exiles worked harder to increase their pace. The Lnuk guided the boats towards one end of the oblong island, where there was a little inlet that formed a small, natural harbor.
A small cluster of galleys was pulled up on the curving beach, their single masts lowered, and their oars resting idly on T-shaped racks rising from the decking. A broader, single-masted craft built in a similar fashion to the galleys rested just off the shore at anchor, with its square sail furled. A small rowboat containing a couple of men could be seen making its way slowly out towards the vessel.
A short distance up from the beach, there was a sprawling cluster of rectangular, timber buildings, of various lengths and construction methods. On a few of the structures, tendrils of smoke were rising lazily skyward through holes set in the middle of the roofs.
There was a flurry of activity throughout the place. The lively sounds of woodcutting, the clanging of metal, and a chorus of spirited voices carried through the air to the approaching canoes.
The ships and the people in view were just like the Midragardans that Janus had witnessed before the Darrok raids. Many wore the same, richly colored tunics, though a few had cloaks augmented with furs. Several of those attending to the beached galleys were shirtless, exhibiting the sheen of sweat elicited by heavy manual labors, even despite the cooling breezes.
In the spaces between the buildings, a cluster of Midragardan children were playing, running around in the company of a few large, wolf-like dogs. Janus could not help but chuckle at the sight of one young boy who was diligently, and futilely, chasing a sizeable, long-limbed cat with a thick coat of fur. The nimble black and white cat easily evaded the efforts of the boisterous youth, though it did not halt the spirited young fellow in his relentless pursuit.
A standard displaying a flying eagle and a running wolf was rippling high in the air over the boats at the farther edge of the village. The banner blew proudly in the steady air currents, fully revealing the dynamic images woven into it.
At the sight of the canoes, a number of excited cries rang out among the villagers. A teeming throng of men, women, and children quickly assembled along the edge of the water, as the canoes drew nearer.
A tall blonde-haired figure with a forked beard emerged from the midst of the assemblage, proceeding to stand alone, several paces in front of the others. Janus immediately recognized the strong-looking man as Eirik, the warrior who had commanded the ship that previously met Ayenwatha and the exiles.
“Eirik!” Ayenwatha hailed in a loud voice, leaping over the side of his canoe to splash down into the shallow waters.
The other Lnuk and Onan began to get out of the canoes as well, prompting Janus and his companions to do likewise.
“Ayenwatha!” Eirik called back with equal fervor. He strode out, beckoning for others to come and help with the canoes, as the other narrow-bodied vessels drifted in alongside the first.
His eyes scanned the arrivals carefully, taking a methodical, purposeful appraisal of the entire group. His face failed to mask his astonishment at once again seeing the strange visitors that he had encountered back in the tribal lands.
“This is not an expected visit! What brings you to this far outpost, with such guests?” he queried Ayenwatha, with a look of great curiosity.
“It is very unexpected for us as well, my friend,” Ayenwatha replied, his expression dampening from the initial brilliance of his greeting.
Janus strained to listen to the conversation as he helped the Lnuk, Onan, and Midragardans heave and carry the canoes up to rest on the shoreline.
“What has happened?” inquired Eirik, his voice grave, as he clearly sensed something amiss with Ayenwatha.
“I fear that the day I have long feared has finally come,” Ayenwatha stated in reply.
Janus did not like the sounds of Ayenwatha’s words, not in the least bit.
*
Ayenwatha
*
Ayenwatha did not have to illustrate the point any further, to convey to Eirik the deeply troubling news that the Unifier was now turning His direct attention upon the villages and lands of the Five Realms. They had spoken together often enough of his fear before, as rumors of war traveled far and wide over the lands.
“A large raid of great flying beasts has struck my village, and destroyed it. We had to warn you, seek your counsel, and ask for your help in this dark time,” Ayenwatha announced to the brawny Midragardan.
“Large flying beasts?” inquired Eirik, puzzlement and concern etched into his broad face.
“Bigger than anything my eyes have ever seen in the skies. True monstrosities, perhaps even greater than dragons. These creatures can carry many upon their backs, and the Unifier has equipped them for this purpose. They carried a race of beings in this attack, beings larger than men, with fierce, dog-like faces,” Ayenwatha informed Eirik, using his hands to demonstrate the height, girth, and strange, muzzled faces of the fearsome warriors that they had contended with.
Eirik’s eyes widened, as he marveled at the descriptions given to him by Ayenwatha.
“I do not know the flying creatures, but I do know of the others that you describe … these beast-like warriors,” Eirik stated solemnly, his brow furrowing. “Their stories are common among those we trade with in Kiruva. They are without a doubt Trogens, from the lands north and west of Kiruva. That the Unifier has them serving in His ranks is dire news indeed, for they are not known to venture beyond their homelands…. What is the state of your village?”
Ayenwatha closed his eyes for a moment, his heart sinking with the searing, inner agony evoked from the raw memories of his village’s devastation. As the terrible images played vividly through his mind, he could not help but think of what might even now be occurring back in his homeland.
“Many were slain, and our dwellings were laid to waste. There is no choice left to the Onan. We are leaving the villages,” Ayenwatha replied. “We have no way of defending our skies. Even were we to be scattered widely among the dense woods, we would have a better chance to survive than to remain vulnerable in the villages.”
Eirik shook his head slowly, a deeply saddened expression upon his face. He looked away from Ayenwatha, staring up towards the dimming skies in silence for several weighty moments.
“You and I both know that there is little doubt regarding the attack on your village,” Eirik said heavily, after the lengthy pause. “He meant to strike the first blow at the place where the Sacred Fire was tended. This is what the Unifier is, and what the world, and this age, has come to. People are forced to flee their own lands, just because they choose to live in the way that they wish to.”
Disgust and bitterness were thick within the stout Midragardan’s tones. His jaw was clenched with tension, as he shook his head again.
Ayenwatha nodded somberly towards his fair-skinned friend, his own voice low and leaden, as he responded, “It has indeed come to that, and I cannot deny that an invasion of our lands is about to begin. All signs tell us so. Large numbers of the enemy are gathering on our borderlands to the west. It is a great, powerful force, and there is no mistaking its purpose. The enemy has now taken control of the skies over our lands. Our own scouts on the ground are taking more risks than ever, just to keep a few eyes on the movements along our own borders.”
“And what can I do?” Eirik replied forlornly, looking into Ayenwatha’s gaze.
Ayenwatha did not miss the trace of hopelessness present deep within the Midragardan’s voice. He knew that Eirik did not have the full might of Midragard immediately at hand. His homestead was not the smallest of estates, but it was little more than a modest village in size, merely a staging ground for the traders who interacted with the tribes of the mainland.
It was obvious that Eirik was feeling overwhelmed in the aftermath of Ayenwatha’s stark tidings, not knowing exactly how he could respond in any meaningful way to the dire plight of the tribes. As it was, Eirik only had at hand a small band of his own men, a few capable bondservants, and whatever trader-warriors were currently visiting his homestead.
“Stand with us, if you would choose to do so,” Ayenwatha returned firmly, “Just one man can resist wickedness.”
Eirik fixed Ayenwatha, and the Onan warriors standing in back of him, with a resolute, encompassing expression. His eyes went from one man to the next, looking straight into each of their eyes, reflecting the strength of iron. He then looked away towards the Midragardans gathered around the beach, before turning his eyes to the timber structures beyond.
Ayenwatha wondered at the thoughts that were surely swirling within the Midragardan warrior’s mind. The Onan sachem did not offer any further arguments or pleas, as the reality of the situation could not be any more clear.
Once the conflagration had begun, there would be no end to its ravenous hunger, until its flames had turned Eirik’s own homestead to ash. Even Midragard itself would not be spared in the Unifier’s coming storm. Ayenwatha hoped that Eirik understood that stark, but undeniable, truth.
Eirik turned slowly towards Ayenwatha. If the look in his eyes held the strength of iron before, it was now honed to a razor sharp edge.
“Your lands are our concern. Were our situations exchanged, I know that a respect of our own lands lies in your heart. It may not bring you the decisive help that you require, but the Midragardans will not abandon their friends in a time of need.”
Eirik raised his right fist, clenching it tightly in emphasis, as his face took on a darkened scowl. Ayenwatha sensed the great, simmering anger welling up within the rugged warrior. When Eirik spoke, he seemed barely able to stifle the strong emotions heating up within him. His next words came out in a controlled fashion, though he was unable to mask the fiery look blazing in his eyes.
“If the Unifier thinks that He has made your defenses soft with His monsters in the air … and if He thinks that His forces will simply walk into tribal lands, with no challenge … then He will be most surprised. His forces will be met with fierce resistance, and the warriors of the Five Realms and Midragard will stand side by side. By the One Spirit of your people, by the All-Father of my people, and by the spirits of the brave warriors of all of our peoples, we will stand with you, Ayenwatha.”
Ayenwatha was taken aback at the sudden ferocity in the tone of the Midragardan leader. The man had an inferno residing within his heart towards the dark intentions of Avanor, and those fires were being given full vent as he agreed to help the tribes.
“I am deeply thankful,” Ayenwatha replied, in utmost sincerity. “My heart told me that you would stand with us.”
“That I have agreed is nothing to be lauded … no more than what our duty should always be in such times,” Eirik replied. He looked back over towards the rest of those gathered with Ayenwatha. “There is much to be discussed. Come to my hall for some food and drink. Word will be sent by sky before the night ends, to King Hakon, and to others who are much closer. I will seek out my brother Gunnar immediately. If he can be reached in time, I know that he has considerable strength under his command. A small force can immediately be raised from this homestead, and hopefully there will be several others that can be gathered. You will not be abandoned to fight by yourself, Ayenwatha … it will be a great honor to stand with you.”
He placed his large right hand down upon Ayenwatha’s left shoulder, and squeezed firmly. “For now, come with me. We will make our enemies bitterly regret the moment that they take one step underneath your trees.”
None of those present, whether Midragardans, warriors of the Five Realms or the Lnuk, or strangers from entirely different worlds, doubted the truth flowing through the words of the Midragardan warrior.