Crown of Vengeance

by Stephen Zimmer

  Some even saw a great symbolic meaning in his unexpected discovery and eventual presence among the Onan, leading to his specific placement on the first seat of the Grand Council.

  The Onan tribe occupied the central position among the five tribes, and the oral traditions spoke of how the Keepers of the Sacred Fire had been at the heart of the original formation of the Five Realms. To have a remarkably sagacious leader such as Deganawida emerge to assume the place established by the very individual that had brought the Great Law, and formed the first Grand Council, was seen by many as a clear sign of favor by the One Spirit. A strong sense of harmony and common purpose had permeated the five tribes with the guidance of Deganawida and other likeminded sachems.

  Ayenwatha’s own ascent to become a war sachem of his village occurred within that shining period, something that never left his expressions of gratitude when honoring the One Spirit. Deganawida’s guidance and tutelage had contributed so very much to the person that Ayenwatha now was, the man that the village had embraced and trusted to be their most respected war sachem.

  With Deganawida’s thoughtful guidance, trade had increased with Gallea, Midragard, and others. Even warfare diminished almost to a stop, as hostile tribes were driven back well beyond the northern region of the Five Realms’ forestlands. Other tribes that had formerly held enmity towards the Five Realms were embraced in a new spirit of friendship. Witches immersed in dark arts, and similarly evil shamans, had been uprooted.

  The elimination of the poisons and threats to their people had allowed the five tribes to focus on cultivating the bounty of their life and culture. The harvests had gone well, hunting was more bountiful than ever, and fur pelts were taken in abundance. Prosperity had never been better among the woodland peoples, and for once they felt as if they had at least a little control over their destinies. A true golden age had emerged for their people, one that had been bought with much sacrifice, resolve, hard work, and wisdom.

  Ayenwatha never would have thought that such a wondrous age could be brought to such a horrific end, in just one night. That very evening, everything had seemed to come crashing down, like the large, deadly stones that had ripped through their buildings and indiscriminately slain their people.

  What had taken so long, and been so painstaking, to build, could crumble overnight, a sorrowful but undeniable lesson that Ayenwatha was only now learning.

  It was then that he fully understood and appreciated what the elders meant when they spoke of life being so fragile and precious. Now, in the midst of the awful turn of events, Ayenwatha marveled at the great strength of demeanor exhibited in the old man before him.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, as he absorbed the bit of wisdom to his mind, promising himself to remember it always. He took a deep breath, and looked back up to Deganawida.

  “I never said I have claimed to know everything,” Ayenwatha replied, allowing himself a small smile. “I am not surprised that there is more to know.”

  “You have always been wise beyond your years,” Deganawida said fondly. “You will need every bit of that wisdom in the coming days. For now, we need to get as much as we can out of the village, and see that we find a good place for our people to establish an encampment.”

  Ayenwatha rose up to his feet, feeling limber and strong. “Then I will get started now,” he replied resolutely.

  He took a step by Deganawida, affectionately patting the great sachem upon his upper arm.

  AETHELSTAN

  The darkness of night had already lain across the land for several hours. The scant moonlight beneath the trees was scattered about by the foliage intertwined above the heads of the small group of companions astride their horses.

  They had proceeded as swiftly as they could, their minds fixated on the recent revelations confirming the invaders’ imminent presence. Those developments occupied all of their thoughts, as it threatened everything that the Saxans held valuable.

  Aethelstan and his few companions, in their haste to warn the woodsman, had nearly stumbled into the Jaghun-warded demesnes before they had announced themselves.

  Had they blindly entered the demesnes, they would have risked death. Moving like fleeting shadows, the Jaghuns could be on top of the riders before they even were aware of their presence. In a burst of power, their hurtling forms could easily topple the riders, and bring their tremendous jaws to bear upon flesh and bone.

  Aethelstan recognized the features in the terrain that Gunther had been so careful to point out to him just in time. Instinctively, he gripped the horn that hung at his side, but then loosened the grip, as he remembered the admonishment from Gunther earlier.

  The admonishment had not been entirely necessary. Aethelstan knew that it would not be wise to use a horn signal. It would attract the attention of any enemy within hearing range, and put them in a state of full alertness. Aethelstan was not about to endanger the woodsman, especially when he had come to warn him.

  Yet there was another way to signal, one not so obvious to enemy ears. Aethelstan recollected it quickly enough. He reined Wind Runner to a complete halt, and held up his right hand to his mouth. Hoping that he could still deliver the technique accurately, Aethelstan made a distinctive whistle-call, mimicking a bird cry. The melodious call was from a type of bird that lived in a foreign land, a creature that Aethelstan had never seen or heard himself.

  Its distinctive cry could not be mistaken for any of the birds that dwelled within the forests of Saxany. Aethelstan sat back in the saddle and waited in the wake of the call, listening carefully. There was no immediate answer, and only the swishing of wind through leaves interrupted the encompassing silence.

  After a moment, Aethelstan repeated the sounds again, feeling a little more confident in his delivery. The call raced forth through the sentinel trees, sharply breaking the stillness once again.

  The great thane commanded the Saxan warrior to his right to hold his steed steady and calm, and try not to react to the creatures that Aethelstan knew would be arriving soon. In a low voice he turned to his other side, and repeated the message to the two that were on his left.

  His heartbeat picked up, and he hoped that his signal had not erred due to lack of practice. He had little doubt that the strange creatures of Gunther would come, but his men’s survival depended on that heralding cry.

  As the silence became brooding, a part of him worried that it had been foolish to even take the risk. Yet he had given his word to Gunther that he would try to warn him, if he could see a way to do so. He could not deny that he had such an opportunity, and he intended to see it through. Keeping one’s honor sometimes meant treading the ground of the foolhardy and reckless.

  Aethelstan remained composed as best as he could, knowing full well that the woodsman’s lethal guardians would soon be drawing near. He gently repeated his instructions to his men again, if only to distract himself within the nerve-wracking moments.

  The formidable creatures emerged shortly thereafter, their great, shadowy shapes seeming to take form right from the ebon shadows pooling amid the encompassing trees. Four of the intimidating beasts formed a perimeter around the horsemen, their intelligent eyes glinting in the moonlight as they regarded the riders closely.

  The beasts’ presence, though expected, still rattled Aethelstan’s nerves. The horses nervously whinnied and stamped about, clearly aware of the dangerous nature of the four-legged creatures silently surrounding them.

  “Do not worry, they will not strike,” Aethelstan softly stated.

  His voice was loud enough for those around him to hear, as he sought to dispel the fears in his steed and the accompanying warriors. He gently stroked Wind Runner’s mane, uttering soothing words to calm the horse’s great agitation.

  His attention was drawn towards the companion at his right side, an ardently loyal household warrior named Cerdic. The sight of the huge, predatory beasts had visibly unnerved the stout young man, who normally had a youthful bravado that bordered on recklessness.


  Cerdic was a fierce-hearted warrior who had never shown fear of even the best of fighters in Wessachia, not backing down even when overmatched. Now, the pallor of his skin was ashen and there was a slight tremble to the man’s left hand, as he tightly gripped the reins of his steed.

  His other hand rested on the hilt of his sword, where it had quietly drifted in the interim. His knuckles were already whitening where they were visible underneath the tri-lobed pommel. The man’s eyes were fixated upon the beasts around them. Even as Aethelstan watched, the muscles of Cerdic’s hand flexed, tightening further around the hilt of the sword.

  “The Woodsman has trained them quite well, I give you my word on that, Cerdic … do nothing to provoke the creatures, and you have nothing to fear,” Aethelstan told him.

  While each passing, tense moment seemed to last an eternity, in truth the Saxans did not have to wait for long before a human figure finally emerged from the depths of the tree-cast shadows. The sight of the tall, broad-shouldered figure was an instant comfort to Aethelstan’s fraying nerves.

  “Aethelstan, it is indeed fortunate that I have prepared my friends as well as I have,” the Woodsman remarked with a hint of humor to his voice, speaking in a casual manner. Though uttered in a decidedly more lighthearted and confident manner, the sentiments confirmed the Saxan thane’s assurances to his household warriors.

  Gunther strode forward out of the darkness, his features becoming clearer in a swathe of moonlight pouring through a wider opening in the branches overhead.

  The Jaghun nearest to the woodsman padded up from behind, and stood alongside of him, its eyes remaining honed upon the mounted warriors. Its tongue lolled about as it panted lightly, the array of shiny, sharp teeth within its broad jaws reflecting the moonlight.

  “It is also good that you remember my instructions well, and that you have retained some skill in them,” Gunther stated approvingly. “You mimic the Emperor’s Songbird of Theonia more than adequately. Someday you should see and hear that magnificent little bird for yourself, and you will know that I speak truly. You are to be congratulated.”

  Gunther looked about at the gathering of Jaghuns still surrounding the horsemen, and called out emphatically, “Friends!”

  Immediately, the inhuman companions of Gunther relaxed their postures, two even going so far as to settle down upon the ground. Despite the loosened appearances, Aethelstan did not overlook the fact that they continued to keep a casual eye upon the Saxans, always remaining on some level of wariness on behalf their master and friend.

  Gunther walked forward to stand before Aethelstan and his steed. The great stallion shifted about a little before settling down itself, not quite as assured as its own master with respect to the woodsman’s control over his beasts.

  “What brings you here, at this later hour of the night?” His eyes darted among Aethelstan’s companions, before returning again to the Saxan thane. Even in the dimness, Aethelstan knew that the woodsman could not fail to see the signs of stress and fatigue chiseled into their faces. Gunther’s next words reflected that. “You look as if you have undertaken a hard ordeal. I would guess that you did not come here to bring me good tidings.”

  Aethelstan nodded gravely, his face shrouded with a look of dire concern. “I regret that again I do not have good words to bring to you, but I desired to keep my promise to you. Even now, my warriors prepare for what is coming, but I have come to warn you. It may be the only warning that you will have. I soon may not be able to reach you, even if it was the only thing that I wished to do.

  “An army of the Unifier’s is approaching through these woods, in great strength. Its passage will almost certainly bring them directly towards your own lands. … I see no other path that they might take … and I fear their intentions do not bode well for any that live within our lands.”

  Gunther echoed Aethelstan’s look of concern, his expression darkening for several strained moments before a quite unexpected grin broke though. The response took Aethelstan by surprise, and the thane did not know what to make of it at first. Yet knowing the woodsman’s personality and disposition, Aethelstan came to recognize the sarcastic irony that was laced throughout Gunther’s expression.

  “The Unifier’s army coming right through here, you say? Seems that I cannot keep to myself, no matter how hard I may try, or how far I run,” Gunther remarked, shaking his head ruefully.

  “I have traveled through the world to find my own peace … and now they send an entire army to disturb it. … Nonetheless, they can get me only if they find me,” he then said with a wink upon his last words. His mouth then straightened, and his next words were spoken in full sincerity, “You have my true gratitude, Thane Aethelstan. I would not have thought ill of you, if you had chosen to remain with your men.

  “It is not wise for you to risk yourself to warn me … though you chose to do so. The Saxans need your presence far more than one recluse in the woods. I only hope that I am someday able to justify such a risk, in a time and place that neither you nor I yet know about. You kept your word. It is the measure of a man, and I thank you for it. Such as this is what keeps me from surrender in this world.”

  Aethelstan nodded, though taken somewhat aback at the outpouring of open sentiments from the usually fiery, and adamantly solitary, woodsman. “Indeed, you are welcome, Gunther. I would have it no other way. I wish with all my heart that I was coming here to simply share conversation, and perhaps a hunt with you. I hope that a day may come when we can do so without worry … if you would suffer a guest for more than a few hours.” He could not stifle a chuckle as he thought of the eremitic nature of the woodsman, and the momentous request that an extended visit would be.

  “I should also like to try some of the mead from this area, from that village woman that you spoke of. I have no doubt that is one item that you trade for,” Aethelstan added, with another amiable chuckle. “For now, I must proceed onward, to begin to prepare the defenses against this imminent threat. I assure you that we will meet the enemy with force, though to what end I do not yet know.”

  Gunther reached upward and clasped the other’s forearm firmly. “I would certainly interrupt my little hermitage for a few hours, nay for a few days, to share your company. May the All-Father keep you strong, Aethelstan.”

  “What will be, will be, Woodsman. Though we can always choose to hold the path of honor. … That, at least, is given to our own power. May the All-Father in his mercy and grace give you strength, and protect you in the days to come,” Aethelstan replied, sharing the moment of mutual, sincere respect with the tall woodsman.

  Though he knew little of the past of the mysterious denizen of the deep woods, Aethelstan knew in his heart that the woodsman was more than worth the risks that he had courted in having kept his word. Aethelstan’s warning might well help Gunther to survive for some greater purpose still yet to come. Father Wilfrid had always stated to Aethelstan that the All-Father’s ways were a mystery, and that the most unlikely of individuals were often called forth in dire times. Whether or not such a thing applied to Gunther, Aethelstan had no regrets that he had come.

  Straightening up in his saddle, Aethelstan gestured to his companions, and nudged his horse to turn about. The horses continued to eye Gunther’s Jaghuns nervously, skittish in their mere presence, but the beasts made no move to impede their passage.

  The one in their path immediately behind them stood up and loped quietly away, keeping a wide berth as it cleared the passage before the Saxans’ horses.

  Gunther and the Jaghuns watched until Aethelstan was gone into the night, the soft clopping of the horses’ hooves finally fading out as they made their way back towards the Saxan encampment.

  Aethelstan did not see the woodsman break out into a run, accompanied by his Jaghuns, as Gunther hurried in the direction of his dwelling.

  GUNTHER

  “Stay? With an army approaching here?” Ryan exclaimed in exasperation, shaken out of his drowsiness after listenin
g to the first alarming words from Gunther upon the woodsman’s return.

  No matter how intimidating or formidable Gunther might have appeared to them, Ryan had not hesitated in his blunt response. From what Gunther could tell in looking upon their faces, the youth had adequately expressed the sentiments of the entire group.

  The other three had shuffled into the first floor room just behind Ryan, having also been roused abruptly from sleep. They had only recently gotten settled down to rest, probably with the hopes of finally getting a full night of undisturbed repose. Still half-asleep, they had trudged down the wooden stairs to the main room, gathering close around Gunther with inquisitive looks.

  Those looks had swiftly become pensive, even a little fearful, as their heads cleared swiftly. It was evident that they perceived that something was very amiss. Gunther had then related to them the troubling news from Aethelstan. His mood was anything but pleasant as he conveyed the tidings.

  So much was running through his head as he spoke. He was a formidable warrior in his own right. The recognition of that was not born of any hubris, but simply of honest assessment. His well-trained Jaghuns made him a capable entity within the woodlands, but definitely not for the likes of an entire army.

  In the face of the looming threat, there was one option that seemed clear enough. It was the one choice that would allow him to remain close, without becoming embroiled in the futile affairs of humankind again. It was a spark of hope, even if the idea was rather unprecedented, and not altogether certain of success.

  As that idea coalesced, he had announced that they were not leaving, drawing the incredulous response from Ryan. It was quickly followed.

  “What kind of plan is that?” Lynn stammered, clearly sharing Ryan’s feelings. “They’ll just flush us out of this deathtrap, and put us all to death. Your creatures out there can’t stop an army. I know you can probably fight anyone out there … one on one … but I know you can’t fight an army off by yourself … not unless you are some kind of god we don’t know about. If you are, it would help if you would tell us.”