Aelfric’s own countenance grew grim at the mention of them. He slowly nodded his head, taking a deep breath.
His voice remained steady, though he shared the great trepidation that the men around him had. “Ehrengard has wealth, and there is little doubt that they will use it to bring the Halmlander with them. I have received some word of this as well. I expect that there will be a great company of Halmlander on the battlefield. We cannot deny that, and we must ready ourselves for it.”
“They must never get through! We have no choice but to slay those mad dogs. Every last one of them,” snarled a man named Agobard. He was a noble with considerable lands in the great County of Rouenum, situated just to the south of the Western Marches. He turned towards a taller man to his immediate left. “Do I not speak true?”
“There can be no compromise on such an evil,” commented the tall, deep-voiced man, Count Arnulf of Rouenum.
Aelfric took close account of the highly regarded Count.
One of the most respected nobles in the realm, Count Arnulf had witnessed the brutality of war many times, and had walked more than once upon blood-soaked ground. Aelfric knew that there was little that could startle or surprise Rouenum’s great count, as Arnulf’s demeanor had been shown to be icily calm amid the worst moments of battle.
Aelfric was well aware that the Count had come across the wake of the Halmlander once before, after the mercenaries had passed through a village situated near the Saxan borders. All reports that had come back to Aelfric had said that the sight of the ravages of the Halmlander had immediately unsettled the Count’s battle-hardened eyes, driving him to openly weeping bitter tears.
There was little doubt that the horrific sights had left a deep scar upon the Count’s heart ever since. Virtually no man could leave a place that the Halmlander had desecrated with his memory unscathed. Such was the baleful infamy of the vile mercenary company from Ehrengard.
“Ealdorman Aelfric, if these demons are indeed among the ranks of the enemy, we have no choice but to slay them to the very last man. Give us your word that we will hunt them from the moment the battle begins,” Count Arnulf said quickly, though his voice held a faint tremor to it.
The sickening fear of having the Halmlander break through the Saxan lines, to gain unfettered access to the vulnerable villages and towns, was rife within the Count’s nearly-shaking voice. A panicked murmur broke out within the tent, and Aelfric knew the cause immediately.
The men who knew the Count had never before heard his voice tinged with such dire apprehension.
The feared mercenary band, from deep within Ehrengard, needed no legend to magnify their brutality. Ferocious warriors, they were an advantage to those princes who chose to hire them. Yet once turned loose, they were like a fire unleashed in a dry forest.
They could not be reasoned with, nor could mercy be found anywhere in their darkened hearts. Even the coldest of souls among those that hired them could not help but cringe at the tales of the atrocities that the Halmlander committed in pillaged towns and villages, to sate their seemingly inexhaustible bloodlust.
In battle, the black-hearted mercenaries were indeed well disciplined, fearless, and steadfast. Few commanders could hope to find better infantry. They had turned the course of battles around by themselves, and refused to break ranks, no matter what transpired around them.
Following a battle, especially in a sacked city, town, or village, they transformed into the most rabid and demonic of men. Their depravity knew no bounds.
Despite this, their battlefield value was too great for any prince bent on conquest to ignore. Using them also kept the Halmlander from becoming too restless within the lands of Ehrengard itself.
If left unpaid and unused for too long, the amalgam of former criminals, deserters, heretics, and other manner of rogues would heed no authority. They were not above visiting their devilry upon Ehrengard’s own lands, as some royal magnates and nobles had learned in the past, to their great dismay.
“The Halmlander may be the greatest reason why the shield wall must hold and not waver. My heart is as yours. They must not get through, no matter the cost,” Aelfric replied carefully, sharing their fears on the matter.
He looked to Count Arnulf, and held the man’s eyes. The look in the Count’s eyes was nothing like that in Godric’s. It was a firm gaze, filled with an honest confidence and sense of conviction. It was also a look that reflected a strong trust in Aelfric.
“The Halmlander will not be hard to find when the battle begins. You may be certain of that, Count Arnulf,” Aelfric continued, his steadfast gaze conveying his intent. “When we find them, we will look to strike them hardest of all… and we will look for them from the moment that the enemy first steps onto the battlefield. You have my word on that, Count Arnulf.”
A look of relief washed across Count Arnulf’s tense face. There was no argument forthcoming from any of the others. Many proceeded to voice their vigorous assent to Aelfric’s reassurance that the Halmlander would be actively sought out on the battlefield, without delay. The heavy air within the confined space lightened considerably.
The brisk chatter that was stimulated among them finally died down, as Aelfric patiently awaited the return of their attention.
“And is there anything else? Nay, I should ask, could there be anything else?” Agobard asked with incredulity. Aelfric could read in the man’s face that he had come to realize the full breadth of the dark onslaught marshalling to face them. “Are there even more to be sent against us?”
Again, Aelfric nodded, and the assemblage grew very quiet as a look of dismay spread openly on Agobard’s face. Every ear in the room was fully attentive to the Ealdorman once more.
“I would hide nothing from any of you,” Aelfric began. “As I have said, we have gathered what word we can. You can expect there to be more of the unexpected among the enemy ranks. It has been said to me that the Unifier will bring others who are not of a human nature. Like the army from the Sun Lands, these will be used to frighten and confuse us, taking advantage of our unfamiliarity with their appearances and methods.
“A strong race of beings called Trogens serve as the bulk of the Unifier’s sky forces. They are known to be a very fierce race, larger, broader, and stronger than humans. Their bestial appearance may be unsettling, as I have heard that the human warriors of the Unifier call them dog-men, though this is said in derision and mockery of them.
“It is said that they fight with a great and terrible fury. I have heard it said, from our spies and emissaries, that the Trogens speak of a promise given to them from the Unifier. The Unifier has promised to help them in the face of an ages-old oppression upon their kind by the Northern Elves… if they serve Him in this current war.
“Such a promise will only make them fight harder, for I have read that they have suffered a tremendous oppression for many ages, and that many of their kind are held in bondage within Elven lands. They will not enter the battle for lands or wealth, but rather to gain liberation for their kind. Such creatures will not be easy to overcome.
“Some word has also come to us that there are others… of an even larger and more ferocious race than the Trogens, though what these unknown creatures might be, I do not yet know.
“I have no word of any other forces that the Unifier might be sending, but that does not mean that there will not be other strange contingents present in their ranks. We must expect to confront much that we do not now foresee.”
His eyes carefully roamed the room in the weighty silence that followed. The word of the Halmlander and the presence of non-human creatures had obviously rattled a number of the men, but he could see the resolve re-emerging quickly upon their faces and within their eyes, as he quietly took his measure of them.
Their reaction was a very hopeful sign.
“No matter what they may throw at us, do not lose heart, good warriors of Saxany. You will see that great strength has been mustered to meet this threat to us all,” Aelfric stat
ed.
He then looked towards three figures standing just to his left. Their stoic demeanor had not changed at all during his earlier words with the others. Determined eyes looked back to Aelfric, glinting in the reflection of firelight from a couple of nearby braziers, and what little daylight entered through the entry flaps of the large tent.
In the center of the trio was the tall, regal figure of Count Gerard II of Bretica. He was the senior personage among the three, and the most stout of build. Half a head taller, and standing to Count Gerard’s right, was Count Leidrad of Poitaine, a man of very tough appearance.
Both Counts had arrived with strong, experienced forces. The two men alone represented a substantial proportion of the Saxan cavalry that would be taking part in the coming battle. They knew each other very well, and had campaigned several times before within the Western Marches of Saxany.
To Count Gerard’s left was Count Einhard of Annenheim. Of medium build, Count Einhard was a little shorter of height than Count Gerard. The youngest of the three by several years, his thick, dark beard, and coarse, shoulder-length locks framed a well-proportioned, attractive face with very defined lines. His smooth skin held no marks or blemishes, and many daughters of nobles regularly bemoaned the fact that he had taken a wife only three years before.
To judge him by his youthful look and slighter build, some would have wondered why he stood so confidently in the company of the two other exalted men. Aelfric knew that to make such a conclusion would be to make an extensive underestimation.
Count Gerard had certainly made no such underestimation, for it was his very own daughter’s hand that he had happily given in marriage to the young Count of the northern Saxan province.
Light blue eyes were filled with a sharp alertness and keen intelligence, traits that had earned Count Einhard great respect from both Count Gerard and Count Leidrad. He had long since proven his bravery beyond reproach in the midst of border skirmishes. Like the other two counts, he had also not hesitated to come to the support of the margraves within the Western Marches.
Count Einhard had grown in reputation to become very favored and celebrated throughout the western lands of Saxany, full of spirit and unbridled tenacity. As the count of lands that had also provided a significant number of horsemen to the Saxan army, he shared areas of common interest with the other two nobles standing by him.
Aelfric looked past them towards a fourth man, standing at the left shoulder of Count Einhard. Broad shouldered, with a bullish neck, he was a very powerfully built figure, as if he was made of the rock of the mountains that he had been born among in Annenheim.
He had a high forehead and squared jaw, outlined by dark, wavy hair that descended to just below his shoulders. His face was scarred from an old wound on the right side. His countenance, even at rest, held a look of fierceness. Deeply set, dark, piercing eyes seemed to constantly be evaluating or measuring all those before him.
There was no mistaking his purpose or resolve. He had endured many harrowing adventures during his rise to becoming the leader of a full scara of sky warriors, before Aelfric had designated him to a place of authority over all the sky warriors of Saxany.
The warrior’s name was Aldric the Stormblade, and he had earned the bold title by being regarded as perhaps the most lethal sky warrior in the entire realm. It was said that an enemy would rather risk a bolt of lightning than face the stalwart fighter one against one, whose relentless attack was like that of a violent storm’s fury.
Aelfric’s next words focused upon those four individuals, as he explained their coming roles with depth and detail.
The three major counts, and Aldric, would command the main striking elements, and the most mobile ones, within the Saxan force.
Heavy and light cavalry, positioned at the wings of a vast, long shield wall, would ward the flanks of the great Saxan host. They would be favorably positioned to strike out at the enemy flanks, or to quickly respond to any enemy effort to turn their own flanks.
It was made abundantly clear that even if the mounted contingents from Bretica, Annenheim, and Poitaine contained warriors that were skilled fighters on foot, the necessity for cavalry in the coming fight was going to be most vital. Each and every warrior from the three key provinces fighting from horseback would be sorely needed.
Prince Aidan, who was not among those gathered within the tent, would be positioned behind the shield wall with a large, centrally positioned reserve. The reserve was to include a great number of the fierce, elite axe men that served in the royal household guard of King Alcuin himself.
Key margraves, counts, thanes, and other experienced warriors would be placed all along the front of the shield wall. Layers of lesser thanes, ceorls, and infantry would form ranks behind the initial shield wall, reinforced themselves by a dense mass of levied peasantry.
The warriors trained upon Himmerosen, the race of winged steeds found only in the northern reaches of Saxany, would have the difficult task of defending the skies above them. The numbers of Himmerosen at the camp, according to Aldric, was just over seven hundred strong. Aelfric knew that seven hundred was very few to send against what was coming.
It would nonetheless be the largest force of sky warriors ever gathered together in one place, in the young history of Saxany’s sky warriors. The winged creatures themselves, as with all manner of Skiantha, were far from being numerous in their native environments to begin with. The training necessary to master the riding of Himmerosen, and to fight from their backs, was anything but easy. It took time and painstaking effort to build a force of sky riders, and to generate seven hundred required an enormous effort.
While the number encompassed nearly all of the available trained steeds in the kingdom, there was one other concerted deployment of Himmerosen. Aldric had informed Aelfric that a small number of sky warriors had been placed under the command of a thane named Edmund in Wessachia, the mountainous lands that bordered Annenheim to the east.
The two groups, the large one under Aldric the Stormblade, and the much smaller one under Edmund of Wessachia, represented almost the entirety of the kingdom’s winged, mounted force. Very few trained steeds could now be found anywhere else within Saxany, and what scant few were left were mostly quartered at the palace in Aixen, serving King Alcuin as messengers.
The true purpose of Aldric’s force would be dire and singular in the coming fight: to defend against the fearsome Trogens.
Aldric assured Aelfric confidently that his warriors would not waver in their given charge. He had even boldly asserted that they would drive the Trogens right from the skies.
His deep voice nearly shook with the sheer fervor projected within it. The stout confidence of the sky leader appeared to lift the spirits of everyone in the gathering, as they stood a little straighter, with their heads held higher.
Aldric’s words set a good tone for the burdensome discussions that ensued, lasting deep into the day as various elements of the coming defense were proposed, considered, and examined. It was a quite arduous process, but by the time the assemblage finally departed the tent, their tasks and purposes were clear and understood.
For King Alcuin’s majordomo, nothing less would have been acceptable.
DARROKS
Outlined in the first rays of the rising sun, a number of massive, dark shapes climbed up slowly into the sky, in the close vicinity of Avalos. The titanic, airborne juggernauts cast vast shadows over the sprawling city, bringing the bustling of many outdoor markets to a complete halt as the winged monstrosities lumbered by overhead.
Thousands upon thousands of pairs of eyes looked up in awe and fear at the skyward behemoths. They found relief only in the fact that they implicitly knew that the creatures were of the realm of Avanor.
The gargantuan creatures had been seen in the skies before. They were commonly known to be in the service of the Unifier, though not a few startled individuals shrieked with fright, trembled in place, or ducked back inside homes and storefronts.
The bold sights evidencing such an unprecedented amount of power helped the majority of Avanor’s populace put up with the annoyance of the increasingly heavier taxation that they had all been enduring. It also dampened resistance and objection to the many changes that had more recently come into their lives on the insistence of the Unifier.
Most felt that it was now quite futile to consider any form of opposition, even in outwardly expressing their displeasure at the ever-growing burdens. The vivid demonstration of sheer might flying above them did little to discourage that view.
As the hulking shapes gradually passed towards the far, eastern horizon, the people of the city began to turn their thoughts back to more immediate and mundane matters. The areas of the city that had come to a virtual standstill began to ebb and flow once again.
Before the winged forms had entirely passed from view, the people had fully resumed their focus on trade, pleasure, and progress within the streets of Avanor’s powerful and wealthy capital. Few bothered to consider the plight of those dwelling in the lands that were the destinations of the winged giants.
LEE
At long last, and with no small amount of grumbling, the hastily marching quartet accompanying Gunther finally reached the edge of his woodland demesnes. The sign of their proximity was embodied by the appearance of a couple of very large Jaghuns, which suddenly leaped forth from the brush to greet their returning master.
Lee and the others involuntarily flinched at the rapid emergence of the large, broad-muzzled beasts from the quiescent surroundings. Their tails wagged furiously, and their exuberant energy boiled over as they sprung about the ground excitedly on their wide paws.
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