Authors: Stephen Zimmer
Leaden, cold rains had been poured into his world without warning. He had not seen so much as even a hint of one gray cloud on the horizon, to herald the sudden change in the skies of his life.
Gunther found it all so very hard to believe at the time, thinking that he was in the grip of some terrible nightmare from which he would awaken at any moment. Stunned, and shocked, he was frozen to inaction and sadness for many terrible days, as he began to realize that he would never truly awaken from the nightmare.
One of the harder things about the experience was that he did not even know of the other man when their courtship had been broken off. In truth, Gunther had learned nothing of the reality until they had already been split apart for many days. The recognition of the lengthy deception by Irene dug ever deeper into his raw wounds.
Irene had claimed earlier that the reason for breaking off the courtship was that she needed to find her soul, and to contemplate her faith. Though shocked, he had tried to understand that as much as he could. He agreed with her that everyone needed to find some bearing in regards to who they were, in order for them to contribute to the life of another. He had not wanted to press her much on the matter, being that he had come from the Western Church, and she was under the Eastern one, with its Grand Shepherd.
The shock and betrayal coalesced and transformed into a sheer torrent of anger when, in the coming month following their severance, the actuality of what had happened became clear. In a fit of rage, Gunther had sought after the Tagmata officer, to crush the serpentine thief that had slithered into the paradise of his life. Friends of his in the Emperor’s vaunted bodyguard, the Vargi, had forcibly restrained him. It had taken many of them to do so, and more than one had incurred a heavy blow in the process.
It was only the stark realization that Irene was as much of a part of the betrayal as the officer that finally kept Gunther from committing an atrocity, one that he would have greatly rued in time. Though barely, he was able to keep control of his vitriol and heated emotions, culminating in a steely resolve to survive the terrible betrayal.
As it was, he did not undertake any action that would have caused him to face the heavy justice of Theonia, even though he was wracked in awful torments at the mere sight of the two of them. Even though he was in the Emperor’s bodyguard at the time, he was still a foreigner, and the Tagmata officer held favor with many of the elite families within the massive, lavish city. Had Gunther given in to his volcanic urges, he would not have found pardon in the Imperial courts.
He had still paid a terrible price. Having long been reticent to trust others, even before that time, the damage done to his perception of the world in the aftermath of the horrid deception was tremendous.
In comparison to anyone he had ever known, he had sincerely thought that he could at least trust Irene, and that he really knew her. After the terrible revelation, he was left in a state of mind that degenerated quickly to a level where he never really trusted anyone from that time onward. Gunther now felt strongly that the only being that he could put all of his faith in was the Creator.
That darker, pessimistic state of mind that had taken hold in those former times had never softened for Gunther, and he had chosen to keep the bracelet, to visibly remind him of that jarring betrayal.
Mianta and Irene.
The two individuals, one a Jaghun, and the other a human, had taught him important lessons in the path of life. Both had involved their own experiences of joys and heartaches, and both had left scars, for very different reasons. Yet the past and the present were still very much the same in essence at the end of the day, as they both left him bleeding inside.
A part of Gunther bitterly wished that he could regain at least a modicum of the innocence and confidence that he had enjoyed as a youth. Life had seemed so much more full and sunlit in those distant days, times that seemed ever more like an ephemeral dream.
Nevertheless, Gunther realized that he had grown, learned much, and had come to realize how much more he did not know. It was all a part of living life, and he knew that it would continue throughout the remainder of his years, in one form or another. The small items in the chest were indeed important reminders of the various facets of that reality, and he did not regret keeping any of them. As such, Gunther was not about to let the powerful, highly personal symbols ever be forgotten, or, if he could help it, become lost.
There was one last principle item in the chest that attracted his attention. It was a pendant that was fastened to a long, thin leather strip that could be worn around the neck. Gunther had obtained the pendant shortly after he had established his new dwelling place in Saxany. He had finally found a place of refuge in the western forests of Wessachia, lands that had once been a border territory of the old Northern Kingdom. In those days, he had continued to make a few journeys to the easternmost parts of Saxany, going to the great port city of Landahn as he began the phase in life that continued up to the present moment.
A stranger traveling through the woodlands had given the silver pendant to him. Gunther had come across the stranger under quite unusual circumstances, during his return from one of those long sojourns to Landahn.
Gunther had been cutting through the woods, taking a shortcut off of the narrow forest trails that oriented him more directly towards his newly-built timber home. A skilled woodsman, he was not daunted by brush, wild animals, or more difficult terrain, and simply wanted to be back in his dwelling sooner than later.
Gunther had encountered the mysterious stranger shortly thereafter. The individual that he came upon was an elderly gentleman, who had appeared to be on the verge of complete exhaustion. The stranger was far off the few beaten paths that the Saxans used to pass between their villages and towns, and he was entirely alone.
The man had looked to be in tremendous need, right on the verge of collapse as he leaned against a tree. Even though Gunther had finally achieved a place intended for his own solitude, he had not hesitated to come to the man’s aid.
Gunther carefully helped and guided the elderly stranger back to his simple abode, taking some circuitous paths to lessen the strain on the old man. The woodsman had proceeded to provide the old man with a full meal, and an evening’s worth of rest and shelter.
The following morning, to Gunther’s utter amazement, the old man had insisted on resuming his journey. He looked spry, and was warmly engaging in his manner. Had Gunther not known better, he would have found it very hard to believe that the old man was in a very downtrodden state mere hours before. There was a spritely youthfulness within the old man’s eyes that Gunther had never forgotten since.
The two of them had then proceed to share a warm meal and a period of spirited conversation together. It soon became evident that the old man’s travels far exceeded Gunther’s own substantial experiences, deepening the mystery of it all.
The more that Gunther looked upon him, the more that he recognized physical characteristics about the man that hearkened to the people that lived in the lands where the Holy City was located. The angle of his face, his dark eyes, his prominent nose, and the tone of his skin indicated a life that had originated in those hallowed regions of the Sunlands.
The man was evasive about his origins, much to Gunther’s frustration, but the woodsman was not about to disparage anyone for leaving elements of their life in the past. Before he had departed, the old man had expressed his heartfelt gratitude for Gunther’s kindness and generosity. It was then that he had given Gunther the silver pendant, retrieving it out of a pouch that had been hanging at his waist.
He had never forgotten the old man’s voice, as the stranger had given the pendant to Gunther. The resonant words echoed across time itself. “In time, wear this, as it will give you strength for going back among the world of men. You will see in time that not all is lost, even when you feel far more alone and betrayed than you do now.”
Gunther had been quite confused by the old man’s words, but the old man had gently reassured him that they would make sense in his future. Gunther had smiled amiably in response, dismissing the gesture at the moment as the whims of a senile old man trying to express his gratitude.
Gunther had spoken no further about the matter to the old man, as the morning visit had drawn to an end, and the stranger prepared to depart. After the old man had taken his leave, and set off again on his path, Gunther had stood just outside of his front doorway, savoring the serenity of his immediate surroundings. His heart felt very peaceful as he listened to the rustling of the leaves, and he had never felt more convinced that he had selected the ideal place to live out the rest of his years.
He had then held the medallion up by its leather cord, and taken his first close examination of the small pendant. It was nothing exceedingly ornate, but it held a decided elegance within its simplicity. It was a circular, silver medallion with the upward-pointing, spear-shaped symbol of the Redeemer worked into one of its facings. The opposite side was entirely smooth, devoid of any symbol or other manner of design.
Gunther breathed a heavy sigh, thinking back on those old memories, especially of the moment that the flesh of his fingers had first touched the silver object. The instant that Gunther’s skin had made contact with the cool metal, he had felt a sudden wave of light-headedness roll over him. He had also felt a deep-penetrating tingle that had coursed throughout his body, from head to foot.
Whether it was just mere coincidence, or there was some sort of strange power emanating from the amulet, Gunther did not know. He had been around magic often enough by that point in his life, and had already seen its power work for good and for ill.
His preference had eventually become to avoid the risk of magic altogether, at least when he had a choice in the matter. He was not about to begin altering his ways, even when there was an element of doubt. Whatever power the pendant might have possessed, Gunther had decided to stow the medallion away, and keep it safely out of sight.
His distrust of magic had only strengthened and deepened in the following years. He had even refused the villagers’ simple charms and amulets, which a few of them had offered as gifts to him after he had begun to interact periodically with the inhabitants of a few nearby locales. Gunther did not want to court any effects of magic during the mundane endeavors that he undertook, while in his self-imposed exile from the world at large. As such, the pendant had remained firmly hidden away, as year followed year.
Now, looking down upon the pendant, as if for the first time, Gunther wondered why it had not graced his neck ever since that long past day. The world had been dark enough to reach him even here, right in the heart of his refuge within the lonely outer forests of western Saxany. He knew more than ever that the world would never respect his wish to be left alone.
Tenderly, he picked up the medallion for the first time in many years, and looped the thin leather strap around his neck. He shut his eyes to steady himself as dizziness again rushed to his head, the very moment that the pendant rested against his chest. A tingling sensation permeated him, causing Gunther to physically quiver.
As if it were just seconds before, Gunther vividly remembered that very first time that he had touched the pendant. The sensations passed in due course, and a few moments later he felt like his normal self once again. Gunther wondered momentarily whether his mind had instigated the strange feelings, perhaps inventing the puissant sensations based upon his memories.
There was also the alternative view, the one that he had first feared. Perhaps his mind had nothing to do with the sensations, and the medallion really did hold some sort of hidden strength within it.
This time, however, he was not cowed by the thoughts of magic, and decided to keep the medallion on him. Closing the timber chest, he locked it up once again with the barrel-key. Digging around his dwelling, he managed to come up with some lengths of hempen rope. With them, he fabricated a makeshift harness that would allow him to carry the chest across his back.
Though rather crude in contrivance, he found that the harness insured that the chest would cause him no great strain to carry back down to Oranim. There would be time enough to find a new home or hiding place for the chest, but Gunther knew that its current location would not suffice anymore.
He conceded in his heart that, unless a wave of unexpected good fortune struck soon, he was likely going to be leaving his modest dwelling at the hillside far behind.
With a deep, melancholic exhale, Gunther stood up, shouldered the newly added weight, and went to summon the two exiles that he had brought up to the surface with him. It was time to go back into the depths.
*
Deganawida
*
Deep within the cool shadows, underneath the thick covering of the forest, the Grand Council of the Five Realms met once again. Uneasiness and great concern were visibly splayed upon the faces of many of those present, and the rest had simply managed to retain a stoic facade. Even though the sun’s rays beamed down upon the forest, the clear day brought little comfort to the troubled souls of the Great Sachems seated amongst the trees.
Fifty strings of white shell-beads were again displayed in the center of the gathering, arranged in an unbroken circle. The array of strings were placed near to the large, rectangular shell-bead belt, with its design of purple and white, the prominent symbol of their collective unity. Also present was the bundle of five wampum strings.
Fifty sachems, bearing their ageless, hereditary titles, were gathered into two groupings on each side of a great fire. Many more of their number since the last gathering had received word that their villages had been reduced to rubble and splinters by the intense bombardments of stone from the returning Darroks.
The proud confederacy, which clung loyally to the One Spirit, was being pushed farther eastward to avoid the rain of death and destruction from the air. There would be no miraculous defense. The tribes were greatly reduced in terms of the warriors available who had mastered the use of sky steeds.