Dragol simply wished that he could set fire to the bodies of the brave Trogen warriors, as well as to those of the equally courageous enemy fighters. None of them deserved to have their remains be food for carrion. All of the slain fighters deserved a welcome place in Elysium.
Yet he knew that he could not allow their bodies to be consumed by flame. The smoke from the open fires would signal to the enemy for leagues around. It would mark the vital territory for a wary enemy, one that could adjust and more capably prepare for the approaching incursion.
In war, even the slightest change in timing or advantage could become critical to the outcome.
Dragol tore his eyes away, and with a loud cry he summoned the other Trogens back to their steeds. He mounted his stalwart, dutiful Harrak, which had remained in place for him where he had left it. He took up the creature’s reins after buckling the straps that secured him to the low saddle.
Dragol, with fifteen other riders gathered about him, gave another resonant shout. At the signal, the steeds surged forward in a staggered line, sprang upward, and ascended into the air on the strength of their powerful wings. The Trogens headed off in the direction of the forest, almost immediately reaching its border following the take-off from the ground.
Dragol skimmed with the others a short distance above the surface of the trees, his eyes watching closely for any signs of movement. He signaled to the others to be as quiet as possible. The group glided in relative silence over the woodlands as they headed southward, the wind whistling by their heads as they cut through the air. Rodor bumped and rocked lightly as they shadowed the border of the forest, and Dragol settled into his saddle, acclimating to the familiar sensations of air travel. With little turbulence, there was not much to distract him from the search.
Dragol hoped to sight, and then close in upon, their quarry soon. He did not like having to deviate from the main tasks facing the Trogen warriors.
The amount of territory that could be covered from the sky was substantial, and would easily encompass any distance achieved by a party on foot. Whoever had visited the battle site had a full day’s lead, though, and the Trogens only knew of the initial direction that they had taken.
Some luck would be needed, but Dragol was not overly worried. Unlike the dilemma that the Trogens had faced at the end of the previous day’s fighting, which had forced them to depart for the evening, there was plenty of daylight remaining this time.
Whether sooner or later in the day, Dragol was confident that the unidentified visitors to the battle site would eventually be discovered.
LOGAN
The pleasant aromas of succulent meats permeated the air, as the seven exiles feasted upon the ample bounty provided for them by Deganawida and the village. The prodigious feast was attended by a substantial number of the villagers within the large, open longhouse that it was held in.
The meal itself was quite varied, with the predominant element being a kind of corn meal porridge that was prepared with oils and deer meat. A good-sized quantity of turkey was provided, the meat being the result of a recently successful hunt.
There was also a very tasty, unleavened bread that was served. The distinctive bread was derived from corn flour and contained an abundance of dried berries within it, the latter adding an appreciable amount of flavor.
Wild greens of a few varieties were included in the evening’s fare, as well as what looked to be several distinct types of edible forest roots. Also gathered in from the munificence of the surrounding forests were an assortment of nuts and berries.
A much smaller quantity of pigeon meat was presented, with evident pride reflected on the faces of the women tending to the seven guests of the village.
Logan sensed instantly that the fowl was considered to be a valued delicacy by the tribal people. As such, he feigned extra gratitude to the women, even though he found the deer and turkey meats much more suited to his own palate.
He largely ate out of a small wooden bowl, using his hands or a wooden spoon, the latter designed with a short, upright handle, surmounted with the carved figure of a bear.
The tribal women administering the feast smiled warmly, and appeared to be of a genuinely amiable disposition. The women encouraged the guests to eat heartily, as they tended to them from large kettles of brass and bulbous cooking pots of clay that were located within the broad chamber.
It did not take long before it became quite hazy in the crowded chamber. The air grew thicker as low ventilation impeded the efficient escape of smoke from the great central hearth fire.
Logan would not have initially guessed just how good the food tasted. The components of the meal were not especially fancy, in and of themselves. While not elaborate, each bite brought with it a wealth of pleasure, certainly when compared to the uncertain fare that he and the others had been recently facing, out on their own within the new world.
Logan was content to simply eat and observe their hosts, absorbing everything that he could about his new patrons. Their customs and practices were different from anything that he was used to, and he knew that specific meaning was woven deeply into their gestures and items.
Such meaning and ceremony had been made very apparent when Erika had accepted a special gift on behalf of the group, from Deganawida himself.
The medallion had been given to the otherworlders during a small ceremony that had taken place just before the feast. Crafted of a host of small bead-like shells, the flat, circular object was predominantly purple, with the exception of a white circle formed within the medallion’s center.
The shell medallion, according to Ayenwatha, had been given to the seven as a sign of fully open and truthful relations between themselves and the Onan tribe. The medallion was an emblem of the tribe’s sincere intentions toward the seven. The importance of the solemn gesture was not lost on Logan, and, from what he could tell, the others of his group also understood it clearly enough.
He could already sense that the spirits of the entire group had improved greatly since their arrival in the village. The short rest, the plenteous meal, and the symbolic extension of good intentions by the tribal people, in the form of the purple and white shell medallion, had indeed been a boon to their beleaguered hearts.
The prevailing mood of the villagers had also helped to reinforce the better feelings. They were jubilant, and not just because of the presence of the seven special guests.
The successful return of the war party was also being celebrated and commemorated at the feast. That exposed Logan and the other six to even more depths of tribal custom and cultural values.
After the presentation of the medallion, Logan and the others had been treated to several tribal songs, which were delivered in a rhythmic, chant-like fashion. Rattles of folded hickory bark, gourd rattles set upon short handles, and water drums, with hide drumming surfaces stretched upon cylindrical wooden bodies, accompanied the chorus of human voices.
The tones from the water drums were quite varied, which Logan had known was due to the amounts of liquid contained within them. The chants, and the rhythmic sounds of drums and rattles, gradually lulled him into a partially entranced state, as he immersed himself in the mesmerizing tribal music.
Only occasionally did he come out of his semi-trance, in order to ask a question, or instead listen to some brief explanation offered to him by Ayenwatha in regard to one of the chanted songs.
Logan had been fascinated when it was explained to him that there was a unique and personal nature to one of the performances then being delivered by a solitary male warrior. According to Ayenwatha, the man who was singing it before them was the only person who ever performed that particular song.
From what Ayenwatha had gone on to explain, the man had received the song directly from his father before him, and would one day pass it on to his own son.
Logan had been very curious about that particular song. His interest stemmed from the fact that he had recognized the man chanting the song, right when it had begun. The
man was one of the warriors that had been among Ayenwatha’s war band, who had helped to escort Logan and the others back to the village.
The warrior had evidently performed some valorous acts in driving off some Gallean scouts that had been venturing deeper into the forest. He had killed three of the interlopers before they could reach the open ground beyond the forest’s edge. It had been his wife that had been given the pole with the multiple scalps.
The warrior, following his personal song, had then sung his full account of the martial deeds, laced within a story of the entire encounter.
To Logan, the overtly boastful song took on the open flavor of self-aggrandizement. Yet all the tribal listeners seemed to be quite enthralled with the warrior, and very pleased with the song nonetheless. It was as if the crowd’s willing embrace of the man’s lauding of his own deeds was a kind of recognition in itself.
Finally, the sequence of songs came to an end. The air within the open longhouse soon filled with laughter and conversation as the main portion of the meal ensued. Stomach rumbling, Logan had been very glad when the first portions of the feast were served.
“This is one of the best meals I’ve ever had!” Antonio exclaimed, his cheeks puffed up with an overly full mouth of the tender turkey meat.
As if to accent his words, juices trickled down each side of his stuffed mouth.
Ayenwatha grinned proudly at the compliment. “I am glad that our humble offerings please you, Antonio.”
“Very much so,” Antonio managed to articulate, despite having taken another plentiful bite of the turkey.
“We truly thank you,” Erika then said, looking to both Ayenwatha and Deganawida. “This is more than we could ever have hoped to expect when we were wandering around lost in the woods. It is a tremendous feast, and we are very grateful for it.”
From his expression, Deganawida seemed to be particularly amused by her comments.
“Thank you, Erika,” Deganawida responded. “With the threats of war, we have not been feasting often, and our hunters have been forced to be much more careful. We have not been able to undertake large deer hunts, though it was fortunate that some deer and turkey were recently taken. I had feared that we would not be able to extend to you a proper feast, given the troubles that you have been through.”
“This is far more of a feast than I’m ever used to,” Derek remarked, scooping up another heaping spoonful of the hominy.
“I hope we are not causing any burdens for you, if food is scarcer in these times,” Janus added in a conciliatory tone. “Please do not feel any pressure to do anything special for us. We are just happy to be your guests, and to have a safe refuge, and to have anything to eat. That’s enough for us.”
Ayenwatha smiled. “We are very pleased to grant you what we are able. It is just that if these were not times of probable war, it would be a much greater feast. The darkness coming from the Unifier dampens much in these lands.”
Erika then asked the two tribal leaders, “You speak of this Unifier again… If I may ask, who is He? And where did He come from?”
Deganawida looked away for a moment, as a sad look crept into his eyes. He gently cleared his throat, and gazed upon Erika and the others for an extended pause, before answering her query.
“What we see today, the world facing all of us now, could only rightly be spoken of in a very long tale. This darkness that we confront now is something that I know has been many ages in coming, for such momentous things do not happen with a single pass of the moons.
“I have long watched this Unifier, and pondered every tiding involving Him. I have learned much in the years that have passed, and have questioned many learned people.
“The Unifier’s rise was accompanied by displays of great strength, demonstrating signs of power and offering an abundance of trade and glory to those that followed Him. Destruction came to those that did not, or who resisted… individual people at first, and now entire realms.
“Avanor, the land of the Unifier, was a territory caught up in the ebb and flow of kings and lords. The Unifier liberated the people of Avanor from the great burdens of being caught between the desires of Gallea and Norengal, and the lords who were, in truth, beholden to both.
“The fighting between lords at the time of the Unifier’s rise was terrible, all throughout the lands. Even the Peace of the All-Father declared by the Western Church did little to ease the sufferings of the common people.
“In such a dark hour, the rulers of the lands, who could not keep control of their own realms, were pulled towards giving full powers over to Him.
“All of this, I am now certain, was intended by Him from the beginning.
“In time, the Unifier grew a mighty circle around Him. Many powerful sorcerers steeped in the mystic arts committed to Him, or were brought up within His mighty citadel. It is said that many Wizards, indeed some of the greatest among them, heeded His seductive call.
“In time, there arose many more wars and times of great trouble, beset with famine and disease. The Unifier’s rise did not end strife. Yet none would dare question Him, for all rulers’ efforts had turned towards achieving the unity that He had offered; to all who would bow their will to His.
“This promise… this offer of a world placed under full order and control, was unprecedented. It was a promise to elevate the rulers of the world’s kingdoms to be at the side of a great throne astride the entire world. It offered a height of power previously unknown, and one that would be unassailable when brought into being. This promise proved irresistible to those lusting after power and wealth.
“A gathering of realms was begun, even if it was only in a secret understanding that the common people were very unaware of.
“The Unifier’s greater vision was made clear to the rulers attracted to His seductions and promises. They were told that when the Unifier’s new world came to pass, the means of trade would be governed under one standard. In addition, all people would one day be identified under a common standard as well, even with marks upon their bodies such as those now said to be on the skin of rulers and others who have fully committed to Him. These were powerful enticements to those already steeped in a love of dominion.
“Peace. Prosperity. Order. The end of all chaos and wars. These things were at the behest of the rulers of all realms, if they only would join with the Unifier. Who could argue with such ends?
“It is no secret that if the Unifier achieves His vision, His rule will one day supersede that of all realms. The world’s rulers merely think that they will continue in their own power, and have a seat at the Unifier’s table.
“It is my fear that it will not be long before the Unifier is openly declared to be the supreme authority of the world, over all manner of rulers and kingdoms. Delirious in promises of power and wealth, the world’s rulers will acclaim Him as such.
“For those so used to the things of control and power, they willfully deceive themselves, victims of the same overtures and maneuvers that they have often used in securing power in their own realms.
“So very few stand opposed to Him now. Only three realms that I know of, with any strength to resist, remain steadfastly opposed; the realms of Saxany, Midragard, and the tribes of the Five Realms, of which our tribe is one.
“Perhaps there are more, somewhere within the far reaches of Ave, but it is certain that these three lands bravely refuse to bend their knee to Him. For our choice, as one of these three lands, we face terrible lies and accusations, as the storms of war gather upon the horizon. We are deemed a wicked and vile people for opposing the completion of the Unifier’s vision, for merely wishing to retain our own sovereignty, and self-determination for our own people.
“I am under no illusions. It is certain that we are about to face a time of great tribulation.”
As Deganawida finished his somber oration, there was a heavy silence hanging over all of those who were listening nearby. The telling had quickly sobered the jovial nature that had taken root and flow
ered during the feast.
“It is not all that strange, to my ears,” Logan commented quietly to Janus, who sat at his right side. “I’ve often thought that’s where our own world seems headed. A domination of all, by an elite few. Just not as far along as this world is, apparently.”
“I saw that all too clearly as well,” Janus murmured in reply. “And maybe it is farther along in our world than we think. The powerful have always had an insatiable desire for control, evidently no matter what world they happen to reside in.”
“You can’t appease those types, that’s for sure,” Logan agreed, drifting off into contemplative silence once more. He found himself wondering as to why the populaces influenced by the Unifier could become so vigorously stirred to war.
There seemed to be so little that the tribal people could offer those who lusted after wealth and power. He had seen the considerable trappings of the marching army that had been assembled in the west. They hailed from a very material culture, one that was most certainly abundant in metals, fabrics, well-bred horses, and many other signs that hinted to a society rife with luxuries.
The tribes, on the other hand, did not seem to possess any great material wealth. Other than a few decorative, crescent-shaped silver gorgets, Logan had seen little sign of precious metals amongst the villagers, most of whose possessions derived from corn husk, timber, or hide. Logan could not see the allure inherent in launching a war against such a people, and figured that the motivations had to come from another kind of source.
There had to be a reason, even if it was from a distorted and manipulated perspective. Logan could also not overlook the distinct possibility that there may well have been something done to provoke the lands to the west.
He had only heard one side of the story, after all.
Logan looked over to Deganawida, who was gazing upon the seven with a thoughtful countenance. A slight grin, tinged with sadness, slowly came to the old sachem’s face.
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