Authors: Stephen Zimmer
Janus queried in a voice that was just above a whisper, “Choice? Do any of Ayenwatha’s people have the choice that we have?”
“There is no choice for Ayenwatha’s people,” Derek stated somberly. “But we could take our chances in the Five Realms with them. I am fine with either decision. There is no guarantee of safety anywhere in this world for us.”
Ayenwatha gazed at Janus, seeing the turmoil swirling in his eyes. The image contrasted greatly with the look of curiosity and excitement that had graced his countenance when he had accompanied Ayenwatha on the Brega steeds to the tribal villages.
Ayenwatha had little doubt that Janus would indeed be willing to face whatever the tribal people were made to face, even if that meant destruction. It was not the conclusion that Ayenwatha was hoping for.
“Then I want to stay with Ayenwatha’s people. I will gladly take my chances with them,” Janus announced in a steady voice, to Ayenwatha’s chagrin.
“I wish to go to Midragard. I cannot lie to myself, or to any of you,” Mershad said, though he averted his gaze from meeting Ayenwatha as he spoke. “I will go wherever everyone else goes, but I say that we go onward to Midragard.”
Ayenwatha respected Mershad’s honesty, knowing that it was not cowardice to speak one’s true feelings. He looked over towards those that had not yet spoken.
“I don’t mind going to Midragard,” Kent muttered quickly, glancing over at Mershad first, and then looking to the rest of his comrades. “What about all of you?”
Only Antonio, Erika, and Logan remained.
“I’m with Logan, whatever he feels,” Antonio said, shrugging his shoulders, as if resigned to the winds of chance. “He’s my friend, and I will go where he goes. I already have lost enough in coming to this world, and I’m sure as hell not going to lose my closest friend.”
“And it does not matter what I think, I am sure,” Logan stated a little abrasively. A slight glare came to his eyes, as he looked around at the others. “And it does not really matter what any of us think. We will be going where we are pulled to go. We certainly can’t set off all by ourselves. You all know that. Better to get that out right now. I’m sure we will be told where we will be going soon enough.”
Erika looked to Ayenwatha, who was listening intently to each of their answers. Hers was the final response.
“I would stay with your people too, Ayenwatha,” she stated with resonant conviction. “Even if others think that would be a crazy decision. But I have one question for you…. What choice by us would help you the most, Ayenwatha?”
Her gaze searched his face, as she listened patiently for his answer.
Ayenwatha’s own eyes threatened to tear for a fleeting moment, as he looked to her, Janus, and Derek. He felt a deep wave of emotion roll over him at their brave, generous replies, expressing willingness to go back to the tribal lands. He was moved by the gestures, even if he found them to be foolhardy, given what they were all facing.
His eyes roved among the three particular exiles as he responded. “It would be my true wish to see all of you safe in Midragard. If you are the ones spoken of by these prophecies and tales, then everything possible must be done to keep you away from the Unifier. If you are not the ones spoken of, then you would still have a greater chance of being kept from the Unifier’s grasp by sending you to Midragard. Either way, this path to Midragard is the best choice for you to take, and the better one regarding my own hopes for you. I would not have to worry myself over your fate, if I knew you were there. I say to you truly, going to Midragard is what I would want for you to do.”
He then looked towards Logan, and fixed him with a level stare.
“And know that the choice is truly yours. After I return from my own journey to Midragard, I will take you back with me to the tribal lands, if that is the choice you should make,” Ayenwatha added.
After a long moment of silence, the others began to look to each other. As if something unspoken passed among them, they gradually began to nod to each other.
Erika finally replied to Ayenwatha, as if speaking for the entire group. “From what I see here, we will choose to do as you wish. We choose to go to Midragard, if that is what you truly want for us.”
Ayenwatha smiled at her, grateful and relieved that they had assented to his own hopes, of their own accord.
The others quietly watched Ayenwatha, as he turned to speak to Eirik. “Then it is time for us to go, Eirik. You will have to take a moment for some instruction, as my warriors do not know the particular ways of your steeds.”
Eirik nodded, though not before glancing towards Erika, Derek, and Janus. He also spared a noticeably separate glance towards Antonio. Ayenwatha understood the look, and recognized the sincere respect in Eirik’s eye towards the four exiles, though the Midragardan did not give voice to any of the sentiments he was feeling.
“Then we must tell your warriors about our steeds,” Eirik replied evenly to Ayenwatha. “Though you will not find them too unfamiliar from the Brega of your own lands. Who is to go?”
Ayenwatha looked to each of his warriors, who one by one acknowledged his glance with slight nods of their own.
“All of the warriors here will go with me,” Ayenwatha finally answered.
Eirik then had the tribal warriors gather around him, and guided them towards one of the nearby Fenraren. He spent some time speaking with Ayenwatha’s warriors, being the only one that could really do so, as he was one of the few Midragardans present that could adequately speak the language of the Five Realms.
He told them of the special commands, both verbal and physical, for handling the Fenraren. The verbal commands were in the Midragardan tongue, so Eirik had the tribal warriors repeat the instructions back to him several times, making sure of their pronunciation and memorization. Ayenwatha knew that it was vital that the tribal warriors remembered everything exactly, on the chance that they were disrupted or dispersed at some point during their lengthy travel.
At the end of the instruction, Ayenwatha and his warriors mounted their new steeds. They were given some extra time to adjust to the markedly different form of saddle and harness. Ayenwatha had to admit that he was much more comfortable with the more sparse arrangement that the tribal people employed upon the Brega.
Ayenwatha then bid the exiles well, fully confident that he was leaving them in good keeping. They would be underway soon enough, embarking upon a sea voyage that would take them to far less threatened environs in the distant south. All of the exiles exchanged farewells with him, each in their own way.
Janus was the last to approach Ayenwatha.
“I am sorry for speaking so quickly, Ayenwatha,” Janus said in a low, apologetic voice that was meant for his ears alone. “I want you to know that I would have gladly stayed with your people.”
“I know that you would have,” Ayenwatha replied, giving him a smile. “But you stay safe, for me. I would be much happier that way.”
“As best I can,” Janus replied, before backing slowly away.
All of those standing around them on the ground cleared back several paces, creating a wide berth for the Onan and Midgardan warriors mounted upon the Fenraren.
Once a wide path was made, at a command from Eirik, the foremost of the riders spurred their steeds into motion. The Fenraren spread their wings broadly, and began loping forward. After a few initial, easy strides, the creatures bounded vigorously across the ground for several paces before leaping upwards. Their wings snapped out and downward with great power, lifting both creature and rider up into the air.
Ayenwatha followed in the wake of Eirik and a few other Midragardans, feeling the sensation of flight take hold as his steed began its ascent. The rest of the group, both Midragardan and Onan alike, followed behind.
In a very short time, those watching them from the ground looked like mere specks. The island soon became an aberrant patch of brown and green within the glistening waters of the sea, limned with ephemeral streaks of white, where waves crashed down upon its shoreline.
Ayenwatha settled into the saddle, making himself more comfortable as the formation of Fenraren moved away from the island. Starting off at a modest pace across the seas, they began their journey towards the Midragardan lands lying to the far south.
Ayenwatha had never set his eyes upon the storied lands of Midragard, and despite the circumstances, a part of him felt a little thrill of adventure about the impending journey. Yet at the same time, the reason they were taking him to Midragard were never out of mind, even for a moment.
His heart remained in the lands that he was leaving behind, in the hands of his people, but he knew that he had a chance to gain aid for them. King Hakon had responded swiftly, as Ayenwatha had thought that the Midragardan king would.
Ayenwatha had no idea as to what to expect when he arrived in Midragard. Having heard a few of their epic stories, a part of his mind was fed by wild imaginings of mythic warriors and fantastical creatures of lore.
He could not be certain about anything, but he did know that he was going to an audience with someone who had eyes to see, and ears to hear; to Ayenwatha’s view, that fact alone represented more than enough of a hope.
*
Janus
*
A pair of rather uneventful days had passed on the small island since Eirik, Ayenwatha, and the others had left upon the incredible, wolf-like sky steeds. The seven exiles were patiently awaiting the arrival of a pair of Midragardan longships, which were to take them to Midragard itself. The ships were said to be coming from the north, and that was the direction in which their eyes were often turned, in hopeful anticipation.
Janus largely kept to himself as they waited for the expected longships. He found himself often walking down to the water’s edge and looking out to sea, staring off towards the empty horizon. More than once he believed that he saw something in the distance, only to discover that there was nothing approaching the island. Whether the occasional sights were mirages or something of substance, they were certainly not what he was looking for.
With Ayenwatha and the tribal warriors gone, what little familiarity Janus had with the new world had been carried off on the wings of the Fenraren. A decline in familiarity was one of the last things that he needed at the moment, feeling alone enough as it was.
Janus’ vigil at the shore’s edge was not necessary in a practical sense. Their Midragardan hosts were keeping up a diligent watch on the sea’s horizon. Janus could sense the rising tension within the homestead, ever since the departure of Eirik, Ayenwatha, and the others. It was never openly spoken of, but was plainly written on the faces of every man and woman, and those of many of the homestead’s older children.
At long last, on the third day after Ayenwatha had left, a great commotion was raised within the homestead. Janus had already espied the source of the excitement, a little before anyone else had.
The shapes had taken form on the edge of the horizon, moving steadily towards the settlement. They were not illusions, but rather were objects rooted in solidity. Gradually, the forms had grown more distinct, and Janus knew from their outline that they were the promised longships.
Cutting through the waters, each was narrow of body, with single masts rising high, and square sails unfurled; unquestionably Midragardan.
Running back hurriedly towards the settlement from the shoreline, Janus quickly found Erika, where she was sitting and conversing with Mershad. They both leaped up in initial alarm at his hurried approach, and he swiftly related the news to them.
It was about that moment that the air was filled with the cries of Midragardans who had finally spotted the incoming vessels. Janus, Erika, and Mershad proceeded immediately to gather the others in their group. They led them without delay down to the shoreline, to await the arrival of the longships. By the time they all stood upon the edge of the ocean waters, the longships had drawn much closer on the power of their oars.
The square woolen sails of the vessels had been furled since Janus had first sighted the ships, no longer needed, as the longships glided towards berths on the shore. One of the longships had twenty oars on each side, and the second one was a slightly longer vessel, with twenty-five oars per side. Round shields were lined up in colorful arrays, set in battens running down the sides of each of the ships, just outside their top strakes.
Their oars rowed in steady unison as the ships pulled ever nearer, dipping and pulling through the water in rhythmic harmony. The men manning the broad-bladed steering oars, affixed to the starboard side of the stern, made a few adjustments as the crews maneuvered the two vessels up towards the beach.
The narrow ships sliced so effortlessly through the waters, cleaving the surface like great, sea-borne blades. Their low draught enabled the Midragardans to bring the graceful, elegant galleys right up onto the beach itself, with little difficulty.
A number of people from the settlement had gathered with Janus and the other exiles to greet the two ships right at the water’s edge. Several of them stepped forward to help the crew of the vessels, as the latter hopped down over the sides of the longships. The men from the ships splashed down into the shallow waters, moving to join the volunteers from the settlement as they all found grips along the ships’ strakes, pushing and dragging the vessels up more securely onto the land.
Once the vessels were brought to a full halt upon solid ground, spirited greetings were made, and long gangway planks were lowered at their sides. It was abundantly clear that the Midragardans from the ships were not there for any extended visit, as they immediately set about restocking their provisions. Chests and sacks were removed from the ships, while replacements were soon being carried aboard, with the help of several men from the homestead.
There was an undercurrent of urgency to the crewmen’s movements. It was apparent that the men from the ships did not wish to waste even a moment more than was necessary to gain additional supplies for the resumption of their voyage. Their anxious demeanors unnerved Janus more than a little, as he knew that the Midragardans were not the kind of people who were easily distressed.