Authors: Stephen Zimmer
“Your barbaric allies have been defeated, look upon their destruction yourselves,” the figure chided them in an icy tone. Though he could not see the warrior’s eyes, Janus keenly felt the weight of the man’s stare.
At that moment, a low, gurgling cough broke out from one of the seemingly dead Midragardan warriors close to Janus’ group. The man had no less than three arrow shafts sticking out of his body.
Swiftly, the warrior with the iron face mask drew his sword, and slashed it downward with great violence upon the dying Midragardan. Blood spraying into the air by the sheer force of the blow spattered onto the mask of his helm. The warrior turned his head back towards Janus and his companions, a single drop of blood dripping down off the edge of his face mask, and falling to the deck.
“Such is the cost of resisting the will of the Unifier,” the leader continued in his chilly tone. “And it might be the price you may yet pay.”
He turned away, facing towards a few men to his immediate right. He addressed them in a commanding tone. “Take these prisoners by sky steed back to the fleet, and deliver them into the hands of Bohemond. While they are here, they are under my ward, and are not to be harmed. As for the rest, do with them as you wish.”
“Understood, Lord William,” replied one of the other warriors.
Erika, whose eyes remained fixed upon Lord William, was mercifully spared the unfettered lust within the eyes of a few nearby warriors. Disappointment came to their faces, as their nascent plans for her were plainly thwarted by the leader’s command. Janus had not missed the salacious expressions, and a burning anger flared within him. He could only hope that she kept her eyes averted.
Having received the leader’s approval, several warriors set at once to looting the fallen Midragardans of their weapons, rings, arm bands, pendants, and anything else of value that they had on their bodies. Janus closed his eyes to the brazen violations of the courageous, fallen warriors, hating each and every moment that he was made to endure the disrespectful ordeal.
While several crossbows and bows remained fixed upon the prisoners, a few of the other warriors strode forward. Unceremoniously, using narrow rope, they proceeded to bind the captives’ hands behind their backs. There was little use in resisting, as Janus and his companions were surrounded on the captured longship, with skillfully managed arrows and bolts trained upon them. With rough force, the prisoners were then shoved and jostled forward. Hands clutched them, and it was difficult to keep their feet under them as they were nearly dragged onto the other galley.
Janus felt a host of stares as they were herded towards the stern of the galley. They were guided to the aft-castle, and up a flight of timber steps onto its surface.
“Do as I say … an we ‘av no troubles,” one of their captors, a dark eyed, leathery-skinned man told them. “You ‘av done well so far. Lord William’s sword did not have to drink your blood. Don’t give my dagger reason to.”
Nearby was a wiry-looking man, whose deep-set, cold eyes peered out from an elongated face, one that Janus found was not altogether unlike that of a large rodent. The lean man regarded Logan with a haughty expression, verging on a sneer. He stuck the tip of his spear close to Logan’s face, letting the point lightly scratch his skin. To his credit, Logan remained firmly in place, doing nothing to provoke the man.
“Do not much like the looks of this ‘un. Think of somethin’ ya want to try, lad. Go ahead. Do it,” the slender warrior hissed at Logan, clearly inviting him to lose his composure.
The smile that then spread across the warrior’s face was devoid of any speck of kindness, instead hinting at a hungry desire for cruelty. Janus did not want to know what kind of thoughts had conjured the icy expression.
Still another warrior, a medium-sized man with a bulbous nose, drew a dagger, and traced a short cut down the front of Erika’s clothes. “Were it not for Lord William, I could think of somethin’ to try with this one.”
The staccato cackle of the cold-eyed man, and the unsettling chortle of the leathery-skinned one, joined the thicker-set one’s raspy laughter.
“Try it then,” Erika retorted through clenched teeth, her eyes casting daggers, unable to withhold her fury.
Her lips trembled with pulsating anger, and Janus instantly feared for her. He tensed, ready to throw caution to the wind to intervene on her behalf. There was not much he could do with his hands tied behind his back, but he was not going to stand by if the degenerate men threatened harm to her.
The face of the man with the dagger grew taut with visible rage, though he was not able to keep his eyes level with her molten stare.
“Leave them alone. They are the wards of Lord William. You had ears to hear,” interjected another voice, carrying the power of authority within its confident timbre.
With a small nose, large round cheeks, and a weak chin, he did not look nearly as intimidating in appearance as the other three men. Though wearing no helm at the moment, he was dressed in a similar fashion to Lord William. He had full length mail sleeves, with mail mittens hanging at the end, and a blue surcoat worn over a mail-coat and padded gambeson. He was a little shorter and narrower of shoulder than Lord William had been, but he carried the same kind of resolute posture.
Despite his non-threatening demeanor, the three other men ceased their harassment immediately. They quickly backed away from their taunting of the prisoners, keeping their eyes lowered and clearing the way for the newcomer to approach.
“My name is Robert of Mirar, liege knight to Lord William, of the Viscounty of Talais, in the Duchy of Avanor,” he said calmly, curiosity evident within his eyes. He spoke with a formal air, one that was much more fluid and articulate than the rougher manner of the warriors that had deferred to him. “Here is my advice to you, and I suggest that you heed it faithfully. Cooperation will be the best course for your well-being. If you cooperate, I will make sure no harm comes to you. Simple enough?”
He slowly regarded the men around him, and Janus caught the sharp glare that he cast each of warriors before he walked away, continuing down to the main deck. While more glances were forthcoming in the wake of Robert of Mirar’s departure, including several more lascivious ones cast Erika’s way, the other warriors on the ship kept their distance from the prisoners, and went about their tasks.
Once the recovery of their own dead and the despoilment of the longship had taken place, the large galley was prepared for cast off from the doomed longship. Slanted benches were occupied in good order, by pairs of men that took up the ends of long oars.
Robert of Mirar’s next orders were then relayed down the length of the galley. Janus listened idly to the firm directive as it was conveyed all over the vessel. There was no use for the conquered longship, and as the victors did not want it to fall into enemy hands again, they had to sink it before departing.
A couple of men labored to swivel the yard arm of the mizzen mast outward, bringing it over the interior of the Midragardan vessel at about midship. A large, heavy shaft of wood, bound by stout, iron studs, was attached to the extremity of the yard arm.
The iron-studded shaft descended in a plunging free-fall, ending with a tremendous, crashing blow, as shards of wood exploded high into the air. Water was already rushing into the belly of the longship by the time that the crew had pulled the tethered shaft of wood back up to the yard arm. Moments later, a little further down the longship, they let it plummet to another smashing impact.
The crew then swiveled the long yard arm away from the other deck. It was not long before the longship began to sag beneath the lapping waves.
The galley crew labored quickly to remove the shaft. A rhythmic chant broke out, as the oarsmen dipped their wooden blades into the seas, and began to pull away from the submerging longship. Not wanting to watch the elegant longship lower into the depths, Janus watched the men as they rowed, using a sit and stand method.
A short time later, more orders were disseminated, and the crew worked the halyards on the two great masts to lower a pair of huge, triangular sails. The wind had grown in strength as the galley moved farther away from the island, and the sails were adjusted to use the natural force to the ship’s advantage.
The four captives sat together miserably, unable to look back towards the fading shore, or to inquire into the matter of the other three from their world. Logan retreated into a dark silence, a scowl weighing heavily upon his face, while Antonio looked about wide-eyed, his face a mask of anxiety. His hands shook as he tried in vain to clasp them to stillness.
To Antonio’s right, Erika looked downcast, staring at the wooden boards of the aft-castle. The hardened defiance of a few minutes earlier had deflated into a numbed placidity.
Janus closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. They were all prisoners within their own private worlds, as well as that of the world that they dwelled within. The only mercy was that there were no great ocean swells for the galley to contend with, and the gentle, low-rolling waters that they passed through did little to unsettle him.
In time, excited outcries from the vessel’s crew broke the monotony of the travel. A number of large winged steeds descended from the sky, coming into the captive’s view as they landed upon the forecastle platform of the galley.
Janus recognized the riders, if not their robust steeds.
“The Trogen’r here for ya!” exclaimed one of the men, in a jeering, derisive manner. “Bet ya like those tidings.”
The riders were unmistakably of the kind that had attacked Janus and the others on the shore, hulking brutes with pronounced, canid visages, and bristling with muscularity. Their steeds were similar in many respects to the Brega and Fenraren that Janus had come to know. They were winged, four legged mammals, of a decidedly predatory nature.
There were several characteristics that distinguished them from the steeds of the tribal warriors and Midragardans. Janus took notice of the distinctive slant to their bodily profile, from head to haunches, even as he beheld their broad jaws, and large, triangular ears. Thick, coarse fur, of varying dark brown and black hairs, covered the formidable-looking creatures, with the fur of their legs ascending in rings of contrasting light and dark hues, all the way up to their underbellies.
One of the Trogens dismounted, and walked over to talk privately with Lord William. Janus could not make out what the bestial creature was saying, as its voice carried across to him as a low rumble.
Fear rippled through Janus, as he thought of the frothing, enraged, non-human warriors that had ambushed them on the beach. The feral-looking creatures’ mere appearance was disconcerting enough, and not just to the captives. Several of the crewmen cast nervous, furtive glances towards the Trogens. The creatures apparently were in alliance with the humans, but there was not a trace of affinity to be found. Of all the men that Janus could see, only Lord William appeared to be completely at ease in the Trogens’ presence.
The conversation came to an end, and the Trogen shifted to face its still-mounted comrades. It commanded the other four Trogens to dismount.
Lord William of Talais strode briskly down the deck towards the captives, with Robert of Mirar to his right side, keeping about a stride’s length back. He wasted no time when he reached the quartet, stating “You are to go with the Trogens, upon their Harrak steeds. They will keep you safe, as they convey you onward. Your destination is eventually to be Avalos itself. Consider it an honor that you will be escorted and protected in a journey to the great city.”
“Your safe passage there is desired by the Unifier. You have nothing to fear from the Trogens,” Robert of Mirar said, when Lord William had finished. Janus followed Robert of Mirar’s sideward gaze, to see that Antonio was pressing nervously against the sides of the ship, as the towering beast-men strode up to the aft-castle and came to the platform to join them.
The Trogen leader looked upon the bound captives, and warned them in a growling tone, ill-humored and thick with severity, “Do not harm the Harraks. Or try to escape. You will find that you cannot fly.”
The Trogens then hauled and dragged the captives in a rough manner away from the aft-castle, prodding them down the length of the galley towards the waiting Harraks. With their wrists still bound, the captives were lifted up onto the saddles of the beasts, hoisted as if they were little more than sacks of grain. Leather straps attached to the saddles were used to tie them down.
Once the captives were affixed to the saddles, the Trogens freed their hands, much to Janus’ immense relief. The Trogen warrior that had addressed them on the aft-castle of the ship then reminded them, in a very harsh timbre, not to entertain any ideas of resistance, or evasion.
Janus, who had ridden upon the Brega, took immediate account of the greater size and much edgier temperament of the Harraks. The steed that he was mounted upon rotated its head, emitting a throaty snarl, its sneering mouth revealing razor-sharp, huge canines. Janus could only take a deep breath as his heart sped up rapidly, drawing upon every shred of his experience with the Brega, as he awaited their departure.
A total of seven Trogens had been provided to escort them, two of which had been circling about in the sky, high above the galleys, as the captives were attended to. The one that seemed to be the leader of the small band finally called out a loud command, when all of the captives and Trogens were saddled up. One by one, the winged steeds leapt from the bow of the ship, dipping down sharply towards the ocean’s surface, before lurching upward violently, with vigorous, rapid flaps of their great wings.
The awkward takeoff was instantly disconcerting to Janus, his throat feeling like it was merging with his stomach in a dizzying embrace. He held his composure as best he could, as they began to climb steadily into the air. He spared a glance back, to see how his companions were faring. Within the angle of the steep incline, the effect was more than a little disorienting as he craned his neck around.