Crown of Vengeance

by Stephen Zimmer

  Janus and his comrades possessed none of the inventions that his world had proclaimed indispensable, and that sense of dire necessity regarding such implements was eroding with every passing hour that he spent in Ave.

  Janus’ group was subsisting well enough despite the absence of gleaming devices and modernistic conveniences. There was no sense of being tethered to those implements either, lending a feeling of freedom from the chains of humankind’s own inventions. He also found that he quite liked the fact that every moment of communication between people within Ave took place face to face, right in person.

  Janus knew that Derek was consciously noting the fundamental changes as well. Earlier that morning, Derek had remarked to Janus that if it were not for the families, relationships, and friends that he had left behind, he would have missed very little from the hectic and relentless pressures inundating their own world. Derek was taking to the relaxed pace favorably, commenting that time itself seemed to move much slower in Ave.

  Yet it was also clear to Janus that the people that they had all been separated from, family, friend, and even acquaintance, weighed down heavily upon their hearts. It was just that a distinction had been made, as they had discovered that the new world, its environments, and the things within it, did not seem quite so daunting as before.

  The meal that the women prepared for the seven famished exiles that evening was more than ample, not much less of a fare than had been the previous evening’s substantial repast.

  The cooking pots produced a rather good hominy, accompanied by roasted portions of deer and turkey, bread baked with dried blackberries, and some walnuts and fresh berries gathered from the bounty of the forest.

  Janus had experienced venison before in his own world, but the meat provided by the Onan was delicious, as was the turkey. Ayenwatha and some other men of the village took their meal beside the otherworld guests, exhibiting considerable appetites of their own.

  After they had all fully attended to their voracious appetites, they had proceeded to relate their various stories to each other. Ayenwatha and the other men sat cross-legged around them, listening quietly as the others described their experiences, and fielded questions from their comrades.

  The peace of night settled in softly outside the longhouse, draping a blanket of cool air over the village. The star-speckled darkness brought a serene atmosphere along with it. The deep pools of shadows that formed held no threats, surrounded as they were by the palisades and numerous dwellings.

  A more lighthearted conversation gradually ensued amongst the exiles, perhaps the first such one that had taken place since they had all come into the new world. The activity that day had loosened up many lingering tensions, and had obviously given the otherworlders some greatly needed easement of mind.

  Janus noted that the others’ spirits appeared to lift further as they spoke of their respective endeavors, drawing strength from the presence of a little structure and sense of purpose. The unstable chaos of the unknown no longer held full dominance, as the first rays of understanding and knowledge about Ave began to crest upon their individual horizons.

  Ayenwatha and the few men that remained were content to keep listening to the group in relative silence. Janus could see by their shifting expressions that they were very amused by the thoughts and reactions of their guests to the various elements of Ave and the tribal culture.

  Janus’ companions listened in wonderment to his own description of flight upon the Brega. The more that he gave voice to his incredible experience, the more Janus realized just how very special the adventure had been.

  Upon his conclusion, Erika and a few of the others immediately petitioned Ayenwatha for the opportunity to fly upon one of the winged steeds. The warrior sachem resolutely assured the others that they would all be given a chance for an airborne excursion in the coming days.

  Mershad, with occasional input from Kent, had then related several fantastic and intriguing facts of their new world’s rich history.

  His comments had soon inspired many questions from the others. Ayenwatha, or one of the other men present, had to interject a few times with clarifications, or to answer something beyond Mershad and Kent’s nascent learning.

  It was incredible to contemplate the reality of a people that shared their heritage through an oral tradition. Conveyed dutifully and diligently from one generation to the next, the tradition had bound an entire people together, in a unity that had held strong throughout millennia.

  There were also some moments of levity during the discussions. Antonio joked about how he had managed to shoot an arrow almost straight into the ground, just about two feet in front of him. It was an act that Antonio said was undeniable evidence of special skills that only he possessed, and that he had proven to be a very formidable archer against anything within two feet of range.

  The truth of the incident was gradually revealed. Antonio had concentrated so hard on pulling the string of the hickory bow back that he had let the weapon slowly tip towards the ground. The men instructing Antonio, in their immense amusement over what was about to happen, had allowed the event to carry forward to its ignominious conclusion.

  His next attempt had gone farther, though completely missing an oak tree’s broad trunk at close range. It was a target that one of the men had instructed Antonio to aim for due to the relative ease of striking it, even for a beginner.

  To everyone’s relief, a few shots later, Antonio had managed to bury one arrow into the tree.

  Gradually, as the tales of the day’s events were exhausted, the direction of the conversation begged some more participation from Ayenwatha and the other tribesmen. They seemed more than happy enough to oblige the exiles.

  It could not have been a more perfect environment for the telling of tales. Janus’ belly was full, night had fallen outside, and a small fire hissed and crackled in the chamber’s central hearth, as all huddled about to listen.

  One of the warriors then told the guests some incredible tales concerning the Stone Hides, a large and gentle race of beings that had once lived on the northern borders of the Five Realms, in Osini lands. The legends themselves were not altogether very old, the final events in them transpiring just a few generations prior.

  Janus listened in rapt interest as the warrior spoke at length of the strange race of creatures. He knew enough about the unusual nature of Ave to realize that the tales were just as likely to be truthful as fanciful.

  The gray-green skin of the Stone Hides was said to have been as tough as any thick leather. It had a stony texture to it as well, which along with the hue of it had given the formidable creatures their name by the tribal people.

  The huge Stone Hides had once lived in great harmony with humans within the tribal lands, their presence tolerated fully by generations of the tribes’ ancestors. There had been some rogue elements among both the Stone Hides and humans that had resulted in a few unpleasant incidents, but overall relations had been quite good.

  It was a time when another race called the Little Ones had also been common within the same woodlands. To Janus, they sounded like a kind of fairy folk, shy and sometimes mischievous, who occasionally aided tribal hunters and interacted with the people. From what the warrior said, the Little Ones still dwelled in the forests, though their appearances to the people were now much more infrequent.

  Janus could see that the tribal warrior telling the story looked upon such an age wistfully, and with wonder of his own. The warrior spoke with an unmistakable undertone of regret, as he described what had subsequently happened to the Stone Hides.

  The Stone Hides had dwelled primarily underground, but one day the ground itself had suddenly shaken and rumbled violently, all across the woodlands. The upheaval reached the point that the ground broke and crumbled in many places, and had permanently closed off the passages reaching down into their netherworld abodes. In just one terrible day, the Stone Hides’ presence had been completely removed from the midst of the tribal people.

>   The tragic event had been interpreted as a stringent punishment to the tribal people. Evidently, the same age during which the tribes had enjoyed the welcome presence of the Stone Hides and Little Ones was also a period when there was a considerable number of dire and loathsome evils existing within the woodlands.

  By their relative inaction, the tribal people had been allowing subtle and cunning entities to spread their influences and manifestations. A being called the Dark Brother and those allied to him were beginning to assert themselves more fully and openly, their reach extending even into the village and war councils of the tribes.

  The Stone Hides had warned the tribal people of this growing malignancy, even as the tribes had succumbed to more violent passions during wars that had led to grave abominations such as the eating of the flesh of captives.

  The consumption of a foe’s vital organs was not the only wickedness to sprout in regard to captives, as new practices of cruel torture developed among the people of the Five Realms. The tortures took on a ritualistic, almost ceremonial tone, involving making captives run gauntlets of warriors who mercilessly beat them before they were tied to stakes for burning. Other horrific methods included the tearing out of fingernails and the setting aflame of bark belts filled with pitch and resin, which had been tied about the prisoners’ waists.

  The abominations had not only been visited upon war captives, but also to some unfortunate Gallean monks that had come among the tribes to propagate the faith of the Western Church. In truth, some of the most brutal practices had been applied to the monks, including the pouring of boiling water over them three times to mimic the Sacrament of Three Immersions that the Western Church used to anoint new converts.

  The tribes now looked upon such practices with a shudder of horror, and even an element of disbelief. The warrior telling the tale had been adamant to state as such after relating the blood-curdling details of the past. Janus could sense the sincere shame that the warrior felt towards the atrocities by his lineage, though it was clear that he was determined to render an honest and unfiltered account.

  The telling of the dark practices was important to the warrior, in the context of what it eventually led to in the growth, wisdom, and redemption of the tribal people.

  The powers of the dark had not spared the Stone Hides in those malignant times either, taking possession of some unstable individuals of their number to commit atrocities upon humans. As with the corruption within the tribes, these hideous violations also involved flesh-eating.

  The only difference between the experience of the humans and the Stone Hides was that the latter had been quick in recognizing exactly what was happening. They had moved rapidly to drive out the shadowy influences from their midst, as well as those that had come under the sway of dark powers.

  The warrior commented that their ancestors should have seen the trouble coming, long before the warnings of the Stone Hides. It had not been very long before that time that the Wizards Deganawida and the Light Brother had disappeared from sight.

  From the perspective of hindsight, it was held by the wise among the tribes that the departure of the two mighty Wizards was a harbinger of the eroding corruption in the spirit of the people. In truth, it had not been much longer following the disappearance of the Wizards that the tribes had started resorting to bloodier and crueler impulses, openly committing horrific acts.

  The loss of the Stone Hides, coupled with the people’s understanding of the vanishing of the two great Wizards, had served as a terrible shock that had spurred the tribes with a great urgency. As if awakening out of the paralyzing depths of a nightmare, they had begun to see things as they were, in all their naked and monstrous truth. The tribes had then been extremely diligent in rooting out vile witches and malevolent shamans from their haunts within the shadowy, more remote depths of the woodlands.

  As they did so, they had come to fully recognize the abominations that they had been committing upon others. They were thoroughly chastened, realizing that the sickness was in truth one of the soul. The Five Realms had abruptly ceased all of the sickening, bloody behaviors, ushering in a period of widespread reform, reaffirming the tenets that underlay the Grand Council’s founding by the Wizard Deganawida.

  Janus recalled the great caution that had been evidenced, and the quartz crystals that had been brought out, when he and the others had been discovered by the band of warriors. He understood then that the diligence reflected the story he was now hearing, an assiduousness that had not ceased since that period of reformation.

  From the way that the warrior talked, it was now unmistakable that witchcraft was truly regarded as one of the most evil of pursuits that a human could ever choose to take, a transgression of the spirit even worse than murder. To the people, it was a direct mockery of the One Spirit, having no presence in the pure light of the world’s Creator.

  The renewed mandate to oppose the dark arts relentlessly was unquestioned, becoming a major root within the story of the Stone Hides. It was the very lesson and wisdom that had been derived from what was a great, collective loss to the five tribes. The two Wizards were still gone, as were the Stone Hides, but the tribes had been able to reverse the slide into spiritual devastation.

  The warrior finally ended his thorough tale of the Stone Hides and its profound lessons. Upon completion, the other warriors, including Ayenwatha, excused themselves for the rest of the evening.

  In the wake of their departure, Janus and the others got up and made their way deeper into the longhouse towards their own quarters. They exchanged polite smiles and nods with the various families settling down for the night within the other chambers.

  Janus felt a little awkward walking right through the midst of the families, but could see that there was absolutely no discomfort on their part. Their returning nods and warm smiles were welcoming and kind, and there was no sense of irritation or interruption.

  Reaching their own chamber, the seven split up and found sleeping places up on the surfaces of the raised platforms on either side. Setting the cornhusk mats and furs into place, they bedded down for the night.

  By then Janus and the others were all at the point of absolute exhaustion. He had already taken notice that more than one of his comrades had had to make a concerted effort during the last parts of the story of the Stone Hides. Heavily drooping eyelids had threatened to transit into sleep, and Janus’ companions had done what they could to resist it.

  Once six out of seven of the exiles were comfortably arrayed upon their corn husk mats and hides, they had fallen asleep very quickly. The seventh, Janus, did not slumber.

  He found that he was still a little restless, not yet ready to give himself fully over to the embrace of sleep. His mind was still churning with the excitement of the day’s events, the lingering images of flight yet flowing through his head.

  He could not deny that it was good just to feel alive again, even if his inner torments would not completely remove themselves from his mind and heart.

  Finding a little solitude was not entirely an easy task within such a communal environment, but Janus decided to seek some anyway. He quietly maneuvered past a lightly snoring Kent, and got down from the sleeping platform. With cautious steps he made his way back down the length of the longhouse, passing through the other compartments.

  As with his previous nighttime venture out of the longhouse, he took great care not to let his passage wake up any of the villagers that had gone to sleep. He had to watch his step, and a few more friendly smiles and nods greeted him from the shadowed recesses of the dark compartments as he continued through.

  A couple of small children in one of the compartments giggled and ducked their heads under their fur coverlets, drawing a grin from Janus. It encouraged him how he and his otherworld companions had been accepted so quickly by the Onan villagers, and their friendship and generosity continued to amaze him. He wondered if he would ever be able to return even a little of their kindness at some future time. Not being of their wo
rld, he strongly doubted it.

  At the moment, he figured that simply being cooperative and respectful, and making an effort to learn their history and ways, would at least convey his sincere appreciation of their bountiful hospitality.

  The hazy thickness of the air within the various compartments of the longhouse was supplanted by the crisp, clean night as he emerged out from the sheltered porch at the end of the longhouse.

  Outside again in the fresh air, Janus took a deep, cleansing breath. A spectrum of stars sparkled in the wide sky above, as the larger moon, and its more distant, smaller companion, had begun their nightly ascension on the far edge of the horizon.

  He walked casually towards the front entryway of the village. There were a few warriors standing around the opening, which was now blocked by a removable section of palisade. They regarded him casually as he approached, though their eyes narrowed in curiosity and attentiveness as he drew right up to them.

  “Good evening. … Is it okay to go down to the water?” Janus asked one of the warriors, as he caught the man’s eye directly. Then, remembering the parameters set forth by the village council, he added quickly, “Can a couple of warriors take me there?”

  The stout warrior to Janus’ immediate right considered the request for only a moment. He then replied in an even tone, “It is not always safe at night, and very dangerous if you are not with a war party. There are many dangerous beasts that hunt these lands at night, and we must always look out for enemies. Even witches can be about, and they can take many forms.

  “It is not good to go out of the village alone during the night … and not even if you have a couple of warriors with you. Your desire is not wise. You must learn these lands well first. You will then know that I am speaking to you truly now, and that your wish is not wise.”

  Janus was not affronted in any way at the very direct manner of the warrior. He was fast becoming aware of the fact that the tribal people tended to speak their minds openly. He realized that this was their customary way, and not a method of conducting a personal attack.