Authors: Stephen Zimmer
“Should we go out of the cave, into the open?” Edmund posed to the others. “If the Woodsman is near, he will know that we are not of the Unifier’s forces. I would not want a needless mistake made, because we gave no alert to the Woodsman.”
“With not knowing how many of those creatures might be out there? And not knowing for certain if they can tell friend from foe? What if the Woodsman is not around?” Webba ventured, looking at Edmund as if the sky steed leader was losing his sanity. “If we are in the open, we are even more defenseless than in here.”
“And what if they attack here, without really knowing who we are? Even one of them could overtake us, and kill us all. We need to find a way to give the Woodsman a chance to know who we are … or whose side we are on,” Edmund retorted. “It is not just our lives in the balance, but Aethelstan’s as well.”
Standing up, he threw his bow and arrow down, and proceeded directly out of the cave’s mouth. Holding his hands up, palms out, he left the protective shelter of the shallow grotto. His heart raced with terror, but he knew that there was only one way to give advance evidence of his identity to the master of the Jaghun pack, if he was somewhere in the vicinity.
He trusted to the words that Aethelstan had told him about the Woodsman. Aethelstan had remarked how the creatures were exceedingly well-trained, and uncanny in their cleverness.
Over the many years that Edmund had served in the Select Fyrd of the Saxans, the creatures had never assaulted anyone from the realm. Edmund held tightly onto that singular notion, hoping that the Jaghuns had somehow been taught to differentiate friend from foe.
The howling continued to resonate through the trees as he exited the cave, but it gradually died down, as one moment passed anxiously into the next. Silently, and without warning, one of the Jaghuns came back out from the shadows of the forest growths, and approached Edmund cautiously. A second, the injured one, lumbered out a moment later.
Though Edmund’s eyes darted about, there appeared to be no sign of the third.
While they moved carefully, the creatures showed no signs of aggression towards Edmund. One moved to his left, and one to his right, padding forward slowly. Unarmed, Edmund was rendered helpless if the beasts decided upon a concerted attack.
There was nowhere for him to run to, and he knew that he could not defend himself barehanded against two of the sizeable beasts.
The first of the creatures, the largest, drew up to Edmund, its great head even with the middle of Edmund’s chest. In rapid inhalations, it sniffed Edmund, the distended nostrils conveying an array of scents back along the passages atop its broad, short muzzle. It moved its head around Edmund’s arms, legs, and then back up again to his chest.
The feral eyes of the Jaghun were calm at the moment, the fires subsided from the furious battle with the Licanthers, one of whose mauled body lay less than ten strides away. Edmund’s breath caught in his chest, as he awaited the Jaghun’s verdict.
The tail of the Jaghun slowly began to wag, and the creature abruptly licked Edmund’s exposed hand. Despite the friendly gesture, Edmund’s heart leaped. He was still highly unsettled at the prospects of the Jaghun’s long, sharp teeth being so close to his unprotected skin. His blood raced with the fear gripping him, as sweat beaded upon his brow.
The other Jaghun then limped up to Edmund, a little laboriously, just as the third of their number came out from the forest to join them. The one in front of Edmund seemed to sense his rising discomfort, and nudged his hand with its snout. Edmund, having owned dogs, recognized the canid gesture as being one of offered friendship.
He slowly reached out, and stroked the top of the head and neck of the formidable creature. He hoped the similarity to dogs continued to hold, as he scratched the creature lightly behind its ears. To his immense relief, the Jaghun’s tail continued to wag.
“I think that it is okay!” Edmund pronounced in an even, subdued voice, as he nervously smiled at the trio of Jaghuns.
Slowly, and with no small degree of trepidation, the other two Saxans emerged from the cave. They were quickly sniffed, inspected, and then greeted by the Jaghuns. After the other Saxans had evidently been accepted, the largest Jaghun started to race about, and bark incessantly.
“I think that they will lead us back to the woodland dweller,” Edmund said, referring to Aethelstan’s hermit friend. He finally began to relax his nerve-rattled edge, though his eyes did not stray from the Jaghuns.
“Then let us get our Himmerosen, and Aethelstan,” Webba stated, starting back for the cave entrance with the other Saxan sky rider close behind.
After several moments passed, they returned with the steeds and Aethelstan. The great thane was being carried on the back of one of the Himmerosen.
The Jaghuns clustered about the Himmerosen, whose fidgety movements, and reflexive snorts and growls, indicated their extremely uncomfortable states. Their postures were defensive, and they were tensed to lash out at the first sign of a threat to them. It was only the firm commands and closer proximity of the two Saxan sky riders that kept the agitated steeds even mildly cooperative.
The Jaghuns, through their movements, effectively channeled Edmund and the others along, as they made their way from the cave and headed back towards the direction of the battlegrounds. Edmund, having remounted his own steed, rode quietly in the saddle of his Himmeros. He looked about in amazement at the formation of the Jaghuns now navigating the forest and guiding them, one set to each flank, and one positioned ahead.
The entire group maintained a steady pace, and only a short time passed before they reentered the outer boundaries of the battlefield. The sights greeting the Saxans were impossible to stomach, with the hundreds upon hundreds of dead bodies lying all about them. Carrion birds were already circling and landing for the onset of a gruesome feast.
Edmund thought that it was a very merciful stroke of fate that Aethelstan was unconscious. His own heart could not have been more downtrodden at the appalling scene of destruction. Each moment brought a sharp pang to his spirit, as he recognized many faces among the lifeless bodies spread across the ground.
The three men could not help but marvel at the numerous giant beings now occupying the area. Due to Aethelstan’s stories, Edmund guessed their nature at once. They were certainly the race of beings that the Saxan kings had long ago discovered, dwelling within and under their lands. The huge, humanoid beings, each holding a great spear in a massive fist, eyed the Saxans with suspicion, as they were ushered onto the battleground by the Jaghun escort. Without the Jaghuns accompanying the Saxans, Edmund knew that they would have received a less than pleasant greeting.
The two healthy Jaghuns bounded off, curling out of sight around a rise in the ground ahead. A series of excited barks soon came from the direction that they had gone. A few moments later, they reappeared. A broad-shouldered man, with a thick, dark beard, fatigue etched vividly across his face, strode along with them.
Edmund recognized him without any need of introduction. It was unmistakably the eccentric forest dweller. As if sight of the man triggered a memory, Edmund finally remembered that Aethelstan had said that the Woodsman’s name was Gunther.
The man’s eyes darted past the three warriors, and came to rest upon the fourth, unconscious figure that they bore along with them. His eyes stilled, and his face hardened, as he focused upon Aethelstan.
The great thane’s chest rose and fell with breath. Almost instantly, a smile of radiant joy cracked the man’s stony expression. A burst of energy coursed through his movements and features, as he ran swiftly up to the Himmeros bearing Aethelstan.
“He lives!” Gunther exclaimed buoyantly. “Praise the All-Father, he lives!”
“Yes,” Edmund replied, as Gunther gently placed his hands upon Aethelstan, eyeing him closely, beginning to examine his wounds and bruises. “We got him out of the battle just before he would have been killed. He received some wounds during the fighting, and has not since regained consciousness.”
“I thank you with all of my heart, for risking yourselves to get him free,” Gunther responded, shooting a brief glance back at Edmund. “The world needs a mind such as his, and a man such as him, especially in these dark times.”
Gunther looked away, towards a few of the tall creatures nearby, and then hesitated. He returned his attention to Edmund.
“I will speak more of them to you later. There is no time now. But these are the Unguhur, friends to the Saxans, who have stood by the Saxan people in this war. They share common cause with Saxany, and they are here to help us with those that have survived. Give them your trust, as they lend aid to us.”
Edmund nodded, now understanding why the forest had not been flooded with Avanorans in the aftermath of the battle. It was not the Saxans that had stopped the invaders, as the shield wall had been collapsing when Edmund moved to rescue Aethelstan.
“We shall,” Edmund replied. “Aethelstan has spoken of them to me before, and they are the reason why Avanoran warriors did not discover us in the cave that we took him to.”
Gunther then gestured towards the Unguhur, one of whom was tending a stretcher made of hide and wooden poles. Several of the creatures came forward, and gently assisted Gunther, as he maneuvered Aethelstan from the Himmeros to the stretcher.
For creatures that looked so rough, bulky, and clumsy, they handled Aethelstan with diligent care. They placed the Saxan thane comfortably upon the stretcher.
“Aethelstan will need to rest in safety,” Gunther said. “We do not know how many of the Avanoran force are left in the area. Where is this cave where my Jaghuns found you?”
“It is not far from here,” Edmund said. He then added, “They overcame an unaccompanied group of Licanthers, who were approaching the cave entrance. If there were Licanthers out in the forest, then there must be some enemy forces still about.”
“And still up there,” Gunther stated, pointing up towards the sky with a grim expression.
It was then that the Woodsman focused upon the thick bloodstains covering the muzzles of the three Jaghuns. His eyes then moved to their bleeding wounds, especially the streaks of torn flesh plaguing the limping Jaghun.
An instant sadness came over his face, as he carefully looked over the group. Edmund realized that Gunther was just now becoming aware that one of his Jaghuns was not among the number gathered before him.
“How many?” came the whisper from the Woodsman. The question was filled with emotion.
Edmund knew what he was asking. “One.”
Edmund had to turn his eyes away from the face of the Woodsman, as Gunther’s loss fully dawned on him. The expression that came to the hermit’s face was gut-wrenching to witness.
Edmund shifted his gaze up to the sky, but the sight that met him was anything but consoling. Far above, like distant specks, was the clear presence of a couple of Trogens slowly circling. At the very least, the Unifier’s forces were keeping a close eye upon the area, and likely keeping appraised of the Unguhur interlopers that had so thoroughly interferred with their plans.
Edmund continued to watch the Trogens, prepared to be patient and give Gunther as long as he needed to recover from the shock of his loss.
“Must not be a large force on the ground, or they would have regrouped by now,” Edmund suggested in a low voice to Webba, his eyes tracking the flying shapes high in the air.
“Be assured that they will be back, and no army will be here to stop them,” Gunther said through clenched teeth, obviously fighting to keep his composure. His eyes had reddened, giving a sorrowful hue to the hollow look contained within them. Edmund could only imagine the emotions swirling beneath the surface. “You should go to the Unguhur Realm, where you will have refuge and allies. We must finish searching through the battleground, to find any survivors that may yet be lying among the dead … and there have already been more than a few.”
Edmund and the other two listened to Gunther’s words quietly. As overwhelmed and exhausted as they all were, Edmund also knew that they had been among the lucky few to survive the terrible battle.
“It is good that we have a place of refuge to go to,” Edmund said, knowing well that their best chance for survival lay firmly with Gunther and his underground friends.
“You have already suffered enough in this battle. You are not healers, and staying here will do you no good. The surviving men need you. Go with the Unguhur now, and I shall return later, when we have covered the entirety of this battlefield,” Gunther said, instructing the Saxans with a steely voice, the tone as commanding as anything that they had ever heard spoken from Aethelstan’s lips.
Despite the fact that the three warriors were able-bodied, Edmund knew what Gunther was truly thinking. Having to comb through the hideous field of war, sifting among their slain comrades and kin, would do nothing more than light the fires of a forge that would create an abundance of razor-sharp nightmares.
Edmund could see the weakened, wavering spirits in the men with him, who looked as if they were now just drifting within their minds. Edmund was already resigned to the reality that the terrible things that he had already seen would be cropping up to mar his dream world, haunting it with morbid visions.
Edmund also knew that the Woodsman had not even begun his mourning for the killed Jaghun, likely akin to the loss of a child for the solitary hermit. Gunther needed some time to himself as well.
A couple of Unguhur moved in to assist the three warriors along their new way, gesturing for the Saxans to follow the ones who were carrying Aethelstan’s litter forward. Gunther remained behind, already returning his attention to the sorrowful tasks at hand. Edmund watched the Woodsman for a few moments longer, over his shoulder, as they moved away.
Gunther was resolutely committed to finding any warriors that yet held breath, saving whatever lives he could. Perhaps a few more bodies were still alive out on that battleground, with each passing moment a threat to the faint flicker of life remaining within them.