Crown of Vengeance fie-1

by Stephen Zimmer

  The war would likely become one of attrition, a struggle that would be impossible to sustain for the tribes, which had never been great in numbers. The losses suffered in just one melee had been devastating to the village’s sky steeds and warriors.

  Their losses could not be replaced, while the Unifier could draw upon the warriors of many rulers and lands.

  It was inconceivable to think of rebuilding, as the villagers could not begin to think of any reconstruction when winged titans could manifest at any moment to reduce a village to splinters in such an incredibly short span of time. Nonetheless, the fight would have to be fought, come whatever may. It would be an existential battle, waged against annihilation or capitulation.

  Ayenwatha clenched his teeth as a spasm of pain wracked him, prompting him to shift his body a little.

  The handful of sky warriors had indeed been successful in driving off the attackers. They had also been able to limit the casualties to far below what they would have been had the enemy been allowed free reign in the skies above the village. Once the village had been destroyed, the enemy could well have searched out the villagers as they fled and tried to regroup away from the hill, levying even more carnage and death.

  While it was true that a great number of the enemy Trogens had been slain, all of the huge flying beasts that they had arrived on would be returning to their camps alive. The Darroks would soon be outfitted with mended carriages, fresh supplies, and rested warriors to ride them. It was also likely that new precautions would be taken, bearing in mind the approach that Ayenwatha and Sky Arrow had used to render the one Darrok’s harnessing unstable.

  What was certain was that the next time a force of Darroks came there would be little to nothing that could stop them from raining a torrent of destruction down upon all of the forest villages.

  Ayenwatha had also not forgotten that just beyond the western borders of the Five Realms’ lands, large columns of enemy warriors had been arriving and assembling. His own war parties had shadowed such formations, and he knew that they were not just a demonstration of force meant to intimidate. The Unifier’s emissaries had been unequivocal when the Grand Council had rejected the demand to submit to Avanor’s insatiable ruler. The Five Realms were declared hostile enemies of the Unifier, and all those in His burgeoning alliance.

  Ayenwatha was under no illusions. The forces massing on the western borders of the tribal lands would soon be invading the territory of the Five Realms, joining their strength to the attacks from the skies.

  Ayenwatha knew that he would have to approach the village elders about the only option available to them: the evacuation of all of the villages, and a retreat into the eastern region of their lands.

  The villages were very vulnerable to the horrifying new method unveiled by the Unifier. Situated on the cleared summits of hills, they were exposed. The unanticipated attack at night was coldly brilliant, as the enemy knew that the village population would be gathered almost entirely within the palisades. Fires within the village perimeter had probably been used as beacons for the enemy to hone in on the village from the air. There was little question that as long as the enemy had the use of the titanic Darroks, the villages were little more than death traps.

  Though there was no denying the realities, it was a tremendously difficult burden to embrace. The land, for a member of one of the tribes, was an intimate part of who they were, interwoven with their very identity. It was what they had always known, an enduring gift of the One Spirit that had always bestowed the means of life to their people for so many generations. The notion of being uprooted in their own lands was unthinkable to any villager, much less a great war sachem.

  Circumstances had become mercilessly cruel, and that which would have otherwise been thought unacceptable was now the only viable course of action. There was no other choice, Ayenwatha ruefully acknowledged. If they were to stay in their villages, they would be easy targets for an enemy that would inevitably gain mastery of undefended skies, while simultaneously assaulting the tribes with their many thousands upon the ground.

  Ayenwatha had never felt more despondent in his life.

  “Ayenwatha,” interrupted a low, steady voice.

  Ayenwatha slowly looked up, to see the familiar and quite welcome form of Deganawida standing near to him. Ayenwatha gingerly rotated back to brace himself on his strong side, the effort tedious with the weariness that continued to sap his energy.

  The village headman and Grand Council sachem looked a little older to Ayenwatha’s eyes, his luminous, dark eyes gazing down upon the injured war sachem. Behind the taut expression on the Deganawida’s face, Ayenwatha knew that the man was sharing his agony, undoubtedly to an even greater degree.

  Despite the physical and mental pains that he was struggling with, a spark of joy nonetheless had leaped up within him at the recognition that Deganawida had survived the terrible raid. A soothing breeze of relief washed all over him, allowing Ayenwatha a brief respite from the withering heat of the inner and outer agonies that he was suffering.

  “You fought well… so very well, against all odds and hope,” Deganawida continued after a moment, the unwavering tone of his voice hinting at the substantial inner strength present in the venerable sachem. “You fought so very bravely, for us all. Others have told me how you drove the great sky beasts off, and how you and Sky Arrow disabled one in the face of incredible risk.”

  No small amount of pride effused the words of the great sachem, though Ayenwatha was not in a condition to take any joy from accolades. “It was what we had to do. But they will return, and we lost two of every three that went up to face them,” Ayenwatha replied, in a low, heavy voice, not wishing anyone else to hear the biting pessimism that was rife within him.

  “And you must already know that none of the other villages are safe… and that no tribe is safe… and that no man, woman, or child can remain within a village site. You also know of the army that masses to enter our lands, which they certainly will, and very soon indeed,” Deganawida replied firmly, the look in his eye conveying that he understood Ayenwatha fully.

  Ayenwatha nodded, not entirely surprised to hear such candid words from the old sachem. Deganawida had never been one to waste time trying to sweeten a bitter truth. Ayenwatha knew right then that the old sachem would agree with him about what had to be done.

  “It must be done… the villages must be abandoned,” Deganawida stated, confirming Ayenwatha’s thoughts, as if he had spoken them aloud. Deganawida then spoke in a lowered, compassionate tone, like that of a father giving the wisdom of a hard lesson learned to a suffering son. “Remember… though it is a very cruel time, and though your heart may become all too heavy in the trial to come… it is the people that are the land, and the land that is in the people. That is the wisdom you must hold fast to within your mind, and in your heart.

  … The people are the land. They are the tribes. They are the Five Realms. Do not forget these truths. As long as you know this, you and yours will never be lost, even if we have to keeping moving as we seek new refuges within our own lands.”

  The old sachem held Ayenwatha’s gaze, seeming to drive the sentiments deep into his being by the sheer force of his will. Deganawida’s face had softened into an affectionate smile, his eyes echoing the sadness that Ayenwatha was being tormented by.

  The sounds of many hurried footsteps preceded the arrival of a couple of young tribal warriors, both of whom had a look of resolve ingrained on their faces.

  They held some thin leather thongs, strung with shells, each thong itself tied to a rough, rectangular piece of wood. Coming to a full stop, they looked expectantly towards Deganawida, who eyed the combinations of shell-strung thongs with attached wood sticks with a look that brooked a hint of relief.

  “We were able to enter your quarters from the side, great sachem. The entrances to your longhouse have been completely destroyed… but much of your chamber was left intact,” one of the warriors announced. “We found these with lit
tle trouble.”

  “A small bit of good fortune in this darkness. Two notches on each

  … and make haste,” Deganawida then instructed them. “And tell the sachems of each village to move all their people out of their villages and into the forest immediately, without delay. That must be done now. Tell them everything of what has happened here. Spare no detail, no matter how terrible. They must understand what they face, and your account of it may mean all the difference in gaining their cooperation. They must gain the wisdom to empty their villages, before they make their way here two days from now.”

  Ayenwatha knew that Deganawida’s words were no understatement. Unlike rulers in Gallea, Deganawida could not command others outright. He could only urge consensus, and employ persuasion to reach it.

  The warriors nodded dutifully, before turning and breaking into a run. Their forms were quickly swallowed up in the darkness, leaving the other two alone again.

  “Change has been forced upon us, and we cannot go back,” Ayenwatha reflected ruefully.

  “Change to the world, perhaps… but not within us, Ayenwatha,” Deganawida corrected him, giving a small smile of encouragement to the vigorous warrior. “It is why we will bend no knee to this Unifier. It is why we will fight.”

  “How can we hope to fight? I lost many of my best warriors this very night,” Ayenwatha lamented, concentrating hard not to let his voice choke with the emotion abruptly welling up in him.

  His thoughts drifted back to Sky Arrow, and the others that he had seen falling to terrible deaths. As if accenting his feelings, his wounded shoulder continued to throb with a dull pain.

  “Our people will find a way. The sons of the World Mother will continue their war, as they have through all time. What may come of their fight is not for us to say, though we know that the Dark Brother has his hand in this time of peril. Remember, the fire dragon helped the World Mother. Perhaps we will find our own fire dragon, in days to come,” Deganawida said.

  The words brought Ayenwatha back to the many times he had heard the stories told regarding their treasured heritage when he was just a boy. They had impressed many things upon his young heart, not the least of which was that the path of good, honorable men and women often led through periods of great turmoil.

  “Then we must not lose heart. There will be no fire dragon if we do,” he replied after a few moments, seeing the sliver of light that Deganawida was focused upon.

  “That is what I am saying to you, Ayenwatha,” Deganawida confirmed gently.

  The old man lowered himself down to one knee. For having lived so many years, the old man still exhibited supple movements. Deganawida raised his right hand, which Ayenwatha now noticed was balled into a tight fist. Slowly, he opened his fingers to reveal a dark patch of ash lying within his palm.

  “You must keep your strength. Your mind. And your body,” Deganawida said softly, as he blew the ashes in his palm.

  The small cloud of ash covered Ayenwatha’s face, and he reflexively flinched and shut his eyes.

  It felt as if a blast of hot, searing wind coursed over his skin, as the ashes settled along his body. As he opened his eyes once again, he felt the tiredness seeping swiftly out of him. The throbbing pain in his shoulder rapidly ebbed, until the last dull aches were completely gone.

  For a long moment Ayenwatha was silent, in a state of bewilderment at the sudden shifts in his body. Gingerly, and methodically, he moved his left arm, and felt no sign of discomfort from the shoulder area. It was as if he had never been injured. His whole body felt as if he was fully rested, abounding with energy. Ayenwatha drew himself up into a cross-legged, sitting position, and looked up in wonder at Deganawida.

  “Did you think that you knew everything about me?” the old sachem said, smiling, in a brief moment of mirth. “When you are younger, you feel as if you have all answers. When older, you realize how few answers you do have. Maybe I still have a few surprises left, even for the likes of you, my bold young friend.”

  Ayenwatha smiled warmly back at Deganawida, his spirits buoyed up by the radiant presence of the seemingly tireless old man.

  The elder women of the village had selected Deganawida to be the village’s headman many years ago, at an age most uncommon for assuming the highest position of influence in the village.

  Ayenwatha had known Deganawida as the village’s leader ever since he was a young boy. It was said that Deganawida had come to the village not long before Ayenwatha was born, having been discovered by a war party. He had been wandering about the woodlands in a disheveled state, without memory of where he had come from, or what had happened to him. The war party had brought Deganawida back to be adopted by the village.

  Whatever his origins were, and whatever trauma he had been through, his wisdom was soon demonstrated to be far beyond his years. His kindness and generosity shined forth in the years that followed, and all within the village were bettered by his presence among them.

  It was almost a foregone conclusion when he was appointed as the headman of the village. The wise clan matrons, who alone held the authority to remove a headman, had never once called his guidance of their village into question.

  Wise in council, and unsurpassed in compassion, Deganawida’s reputation had spread quickly among the villages and tribes. Soon, a great number of village headmen and other sachems found themselves deferring to his sagacity, and he had risen to become the most influential and respected man among the Onan.

  When the Onan sachem holding the most prominent seat on the Grand Council had gone from the world to the abode of the One Spirit and the heaven lands, the clan matrons, after having conducted all condolence rites, had appointed Deganawida to the exalted position.

  His judicious nature and keen insight stood forth at the unified council that took in all five tribes. Known well among the Onan, he soon became beloved by the other tribal sachems. The ascension brought greater honor to Ayenwatha’s tribe. A generous spirit prevailed, as there was no envy or jealousy among the other sachems for the tremendous regard given to Deganawida.

  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, h
ard 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.