Crown of Vengeance fie-1

by Stephen Zimmer

  He knew instinctively, to his great chagrin, that the giant forms boded tremendous horrors for the Onan village.

  Janus started to run back towards the longhouse where his friends slept, crying out urgently himself. His voice added to the few desperate shouts of warning that were loosed just before the ground reverberated with a number of prominent thumps. The sickening sounds of wood smashing and splintering rose up all around him. Jerking his head skyward, he caught the dismaying sight of a host of large objects raining down from the sky.

  Commanding his legs to move as fast as he possibly could, he raced desperately for the hide entry-flap of the longhouse where his companions were resting. He ran faster than he had ever run before in his life, bursting through the flap and nearly falling to the ground as he entered the longhouse.

  Somehow keeping his feet under him, he burst through the storage vestibule and the next opening, streaking down the center of the chambers while shouting out hysterically. Many villagers leaped up from where they were sleeping, their eyes wide with fear, as they all felt the thunderous impact of the torrential assault underway outside.

  “We are being attacked! Something is attacking the village, from the air!” Janus exclaimed, rousing his friends and the other occupants of the longhouse. “We need to get out of here, now! Everyone! Get away from the village! There’s no time! Get out, get away!”

  “What is it?” Erika shouted to him as he entered their own quarters, her face reflecting the alarm and confusion gripping her.

  The crashing sounds of destruction outside the longhouse were now mingled with cries of terror and pain, as the furious assault mounted with greater intensity.

  “Huge creatures, in the sky. Get out, get out!” Janus yelled quickly, roughly grabbing at Antonio and Derek, who were closest to him, and shoving them along. “Get out now!”

  As if to emphasize his frantic urgings, a large rock tore through the roof of their own chamber. Its impact cast a mess of shards and splinters all about where it smashed the sleeping platform where Logan had just been lying mere seconds before.

  Another great stone crashed through the chamber next to them, and Janus looked in horror as it struck a village woman, killing her instantly in front of her husband and children. Yet another ripped through the roof and landed just beyond the entrance to the next chamber, throwing up a mass of dirt and debris.

  “We can’t stay here!” Erika cried, pulling forcefully at Logan, who had frozen in indecision. “Come on! Out everyone!”

  Following Erika and Janus, the group hurriedly made their way through the chambers to exit the longhouse. They had to hurdle over some debris, and Antonio tripped on a fallen boulder.

  Janus doubled back as he heard Antonio cry out, gripping his hand and yanking him back to his feet in an adrenalized surge of effort, born from desperation. He nearly dragged Antonio through the last chambers as they made their way towards the exit of the stricken longhouse.

  The other longhouse occupants had been alerted by Janus’ passage and the surging commotion. Foreigners and villagers alike shoved and jostled frantically to get to the outside.

  A chaotic scene met their eyes as they ran out into the open ground. It was as if the most malevolent and enormous of hailstorms had been unleashed upon the village. Large boulders continued to rain down upon longhouses, crushing the edifices, as well as striking and killing many of the terrified, wide-eyed villagers running about. Some small fires had broken out where falling stones had strewn burning wood and sparks among the longhouse structures. Only the absence of stronger winds prevented the fires from quickly escalating into larger infernos.

  Janus and the others did not hesitate for a moment, as they bolted for the main entryway to the village.

  “Darroks!” Ayenwatha shouted out from nearby. He yelled to any that would hear him. “Go to the river! Go to the river!”

  Heeding Ayenwatha’s call, Janus shouted out to his own group and any villagers nearby, “To the river! To the river!”

  He saw Ayenwatha racing down amid rows of longhouses, accompanied by several Onan warriors. They were out of sight in just a few seconds.

  Janus and the others did not stop to consider why Ayenwatha would race in towards the very center of the bombardment. Janus and his companions hurried across the open ground towards the front gateway in the outer palisade.

  Rocks fell to their right, left, in front and in back of them. More cries filled the air, but fortune remained with the outsiders as none were stricken, though Antonio and Janus both came within just a couple paces of being pulverized by one large boulder. They finally won their way unscathed past the open gate of the village and started down the long hill slope.

  In his panic, Kent lost his footing, tumbling down the slope. Derek caught up to him, and helped his friend up quickly. The others barely kept to their feet in their own frenzied haste, but all made it safely to the base of the large hill.

  Janus, now trailing the others, took long, leaping strides as he covered the last part of the slope. The seven continued forward through the darkness, heading amongst the trees. Enough light filtered down from the clear night sky over them that they did not stumble about blindly, and were able to keep moving forward in a relatively orderly manner.

  Though fading, the dismaying sounds of fear and wailing, mixed with the crackling and splintering of wood, followed them as they strove for the river’s edge. Above and behind them, a hellish glow now lit the summit of the hill from the fires burning within the doomed village.

  From the base of the hill and on through the surrounding trees towards the edge of the river, there were no rocks or other debris falling from the sky. The stillness among the trees was a jarringly stark contrast to the unbridled assault being levied upon the village.

  Out of immediate danger, calmer thought processes gradually returned to Janus. The group had slowed their pace to assess their situation, as they finally reached the water’s edge.

  A number of terrified villagers were now gathering near to them, increasingly becoming a larger assemblage as other survivors streamed in from the beleaguered village.

  Janus’ heart sank precipitously. The sight around him was anguishing. Mothers and fathers carried small, crying children. Those that had reached the water were frantically looking about for any sign of their family members and friends. Those finding the ones that they sought rushed to embrace their loved ones.

  Some children looked around in grief and sheer bewilderment, with no sign of the parents that had urged them to run to safety. Older villagers collapsed to the ground, the surge of energy brought by desperation now betraying the frailty of their elderly bodies.

  Janus and many of the others looked skyward nervously, searching for signs of the horrific beasts that had terrorized the village. The creatures were not hard to see, as they circled slowly around in the sky far above the hill, honing in again on the village at its summit.

  The immense shapes filled the darkened sky, obscuring large expanses of stars behind them. They were monstrosities evoked from the abyss of nightmares, though what they were Janus could not say. Their wingspan was extraordinary, and it was hard to believe that such titans could remain airborne.

  As he observed them, Janus’ eyes were gradually drawn towards a most surprising sight, one that was silhouetted against the relatively clear skies.

  His eyes straining to make out further details, he could see a flurry of movement occurring along the top of the beasts’ long backs, as well as what looked to be some type of artificial structures astride the creatures. He surmised quickly that those concerted movements were the source of the torrent of destruction descending from the flying monsters.

  With a sickening sense of absolute helplessness, he could see the shadowy shapes of numerous rocks plummeting down from the creatures towards the hapless village on the hill. As his eyes took in the deadly storm, his ears were filled with the sobs and cries of the adults and children huddled in small groups all around him.


  He was only a guest, with little more in his possession than the clothes on his back. The villagers, on the other hand, were watching their homes, families, and friends being destroyed right before their eyes.

  As the initial shock of it began to wear off, the terrible scene transpiring was overwhelming. Against the backdrop of the aggrieved litany, his eyes watered up with tears fueled by sorrow and pure, righteous anger.

  He sank down to his knees, as his gaze scanned the debilitating sights of the shattered families gathered near to him. He witnessed expressions of tremendous sadness that he knew would stay ingrained forever in his memory.

  He stared off as if to gaze beyond the tragic visions, seeking the numbness of emptiness. Yet he could not escape the sights, for there were far too many.

  Janus felt a hollow sensation opening deep within him, as a strongly-built tribal warrior stumbled towards them out of the trees. He was straining with an elderly woman carried across his back and an unconscious child in his arms.

  The elderly woman was alert, and had her thin arms and legs wrapped around the warrior as he bore her weight.

  Janus then noticed the awkward angle of the child’s lower right leg, bent at a place where no natural joint existed. That the child was not awake was a great mercy. The warrior’s face held both exhaustion and a grim resolve, yet another vivid memory that would remain etched in Janus’ mind.

  The renewed shock of the moment gradually wore off, though a feeling of grief subsequently magnified within him. The sight of the elderly woman reminded Janus of the old people in the village who could not have run out as he and his friends had.

  He buried his face in his hands, his chest heaving with sobs, as he felt a wave of shame and guilt at having abandoned the village so hastily. He had acted without thinking, rushing out when he should have stayed and tried to help as the warrior had.

  “But what could I have done?” he stammered in a low voice, aloud to himself, as an abyss of sadness tore at him. “I should have stayed and helped. I should have stayed…”

  He then felt a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. “You saved me.”

  Looking up through the haze of his tear-fogged eyes, he saw Logan standing next to him, with a somber expression on his face. The sight of Logan made him think back to the sleeping platform, and where he had seen Logan get off of it at Janus’ frantic urging. He remembered the jagged mass of rock that had smashed the platform to shards moments later, exploding down through the bark-paneled roof. His return back into the longhouse had roused Logan just in time. If Janus had arrived even seconds later, Logan would have been killed.

  “You came back in, when you could have run out, and you saved me, you saved the others, and you raised an alarm,” Logan said firmly. “There are many out here that may well have died if you had not run back.”

  “But still, I should have stayed,” Janus replied, feeling horribly about the elderly villagers who had likely been trapped by nothing more than the weaknesses of their physical bodies.

  “Who could possibly think up there?” Logan asked him, looking off towards the fire-encompassed hilltop. “The whole place was coming down. Smashed to bits, set on fire, people running everywhere. There was nothing that we really could do, but react.”

  Logan sighed and shook his head. “I wish I was not so helpless, and could do something more. I wish I could, but we do not have magic abilities, Janus. We’re just human… and until I find a way to something more, I can’t expect to have more power than what we have in these limited bodies…”

  Logan deliberately turned his eyes skyward, but not before Janus caught a darker mood spreading across the other’s countenance. Janus quietly stared at Logan, wondering what kinds of thoughts were running through his mind.

  Even from the side, Janus could see Logan’s eyes visibly narrowing, in sudden reflex to something he saw. Janus was drawn to follow Logan’s line of sight on up into the sky. Near to the huge flying beasts in the sky, a number of smaller forms could be seen darting amid the behemoth airborne masses.

  It was in that moment that Janus suddenly came to realize where Ayenwatha had been headed to, when he had run off into the center of the maelstrom with the other warriors.

  AYENWATHA

  There was nothing else that the flying hulks could be other than Darroks. Gallean traders had spoken of tremendous monstrosities of the air, flying in the skies around Avalos to the west, which were being trained to serve some purpose of the Unifier’s. They had spoken with awe of the sheer vastness of the creatures. Some found them to be a simulacrum of dragons.

  The incredible size being unquestionable, most were not altogether certain about the latter claim, as dragons had not been seen in the western lands for so many years. Yet Ayenwatha could not disagree that the beasts before him certainly evoked references to the winged legends.

  Ayenwatha guided Arax upward resolutely, in the lead of the nearly thirty defenders that were streaking up from the village towards the bulky forms of the Darroks.

  The warriors raced directly at the front of the Darroks, the beasts’ forms growing ever larger, with each passing second. Their hearts raced as they sped unhesitatingly towards a desperate battle.

  There was no real hope of bringing the creatures down outright, which the warriors with Ayenwatha quickly discovered on their first approach. The thick, leathery hides of the Darroks could easily turn simple arrows aside, and their vulnerable spots, such as the eyes, were provided with armored protection.

  The creatures were also not alone, nor were they following their own mind. A great carriage of timber planks and poles, forming a platform surface and railed sides, was lashed to each of the creatures, extending from the base of their necks down to the middle of their backs.

  Crews of about twenty figures moved about on the surface of the carriages. Most were tending to the ongoing assault, while a couple of them were occupied in guiding the winged juggernauts via a special harnessing utilizing exceptionally long reins.

  The enemy figures labored relentlessly upon the beasts’ backs, jettisoning a cascade of larger rocks off of the sides of the beasts, sending them hurling down towards the village far below. As the defenders neared the gigantic forms, Ayenwatha was caught by a sudden surprise.

  He recognized that the many enemy fighters serving as the attendant crews were not human. Only a few of the village warriors would have recognized them as Trogens, and even then only from tales and stories. Ayenwatha was one of the few that had heard of the dog-men from the east, huge brutes that were implacable, ferocious warriors.

  Muscled and dexterous, the Trogens cried out boldly to each other. Many shouted defiantly at the approaching defenders, as an alarm was raised amongst them. A kind of respite was gained for the village, as the Trogens turned their attentions towards preparing to meet the onrushing defenders.

  Ayenwatha discovered that the great Darroks were able to breathe short jets of fire. The ability was unveiled to all of the defending tribal warriors, when one of them strayed too close towards the immediate front of one of the beasts, and barely avoided getting engulfed in the tight column of flame that blasted from the creature’s huge mouth.

  The creature then swung its head about, trying to find the evasive warrior. The Trogens controlling the beast worked its reins aggressively, working to keep the suddenly-distracted creature moving steadily onward.

  Ayenwatha recognized the great danger presented by the fire breath of the winged giants, and swiftly warned his warriors to keep clear of the beasts’ heads.

  It was not a very hard challenge, as the slow moving beasts could not readily adapt to the sudden changes in direction that the substantially smaller Bregas were able to undertake. A loud outcry then rang out among the Trogens on the backs of the Darroks, a fierce roar erupting to meet the impact of the daring assault.

  To Ayenwatha’s immense relief, there were no sky steeds, such as Harraks, escorting the Darroks. Yet their enemies were not devoid of a c
onsiderable means of defense.

  Several Trogens hastily retrieved great bows, each more than the height of a man. They notched arrows fletched with long, black feathers, laboring diligently to train their sights upon the Onan warriors. At the moment, there were few archers fully ready to engage in the fray, as many of the Trogens among the Darroks were still hustling to snatch up weapons. Ayenwatha’s warriors would be allowed a small measure of time to try and disrupt or cripple the assaults on their village.

  Ayenwatha espied one enemy archer, who had an arrow at the ready and was marking its mental target upon one of the tribal warriors. The Trogen was assiduously focusing its eyes upon the unaware warrior, who was about to fly alongside the Darrok just above the carriage level.

  Quickly balancing himself, Ayenwatha set an arrow to his own bow and instantly let the arrow fly towards the Trogen archer.

  The shot was loosed just in the right moment. Had he waited even a fraction of a moment later, it would have been too late.

  As it was, the bestial archer suddenly jerked about as Ayenwatha’s deadly missile found its target. It twisted in the act of its own shot, the arrow going wildly astray of its intended target. Its bow fell from its hands, as it crumpled down to the surface of the carriage.

  More shouts of alarm emerged from the felled Trogen’s nearby companions. All of the Trogens were readying their weapons, as they endeavored to repel the warriors with Ayenwatha.

  The other Onan warriors then let their first volley of arrows streak towards the companions of the slain Trogen.

  Several of the tribal warriors’ arrows burrowed into the flesh of their intended marks. In just one pass over the Trogens, a great majority of the enemy warriors on the first Darrok were casualties. They were either wounded too badly to continue fighting, or had been slain outright by deadly accurate shafts.

  Only a few survived unharmed. The Onan warriors had effectively taken one beast out of the fight. Ayenwatha could see the one remaining Trogen with the reins working feverishly to steer the creature away. The winged behemoth now represented little threat to any village within the landscape below.