A short time later, more orders were disseminated, and the crew worked the halyards on the two great masts to lower a pair of huge, triangular sails. The wind had grown in strength as the galley moved farther away from the island, and the sails were adjusted to use the natural force to the ship’s advantage.
The four captives sat together miserably, unable to look back towards the fading shore, or to inquire into the matter of the other three from their world. Logan retreated into a dark silence, a scowl weighing heavily upon his face, while Antonio looked about wide-eyed, his face a mask of anxiety. His hands shook as he tried in vain to clasp them to stillness.
To Antonio’s right, Erika looked downcast, staring at the wooden boards of the aft-castle. The hardened defiance of a few minutes earlier had deflated into a numbed placidity.
Janus closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. They were all prisoners within their own private worlds, as well as that of the world that they dwelled within. The only mercy was that there were no great ocean swells for the galley to contend with, and the gentle, low-rolling waters that they passed through did little to unsettle him.
In time, excited outcries from the vessel’s crew broke the monotony of the travel. A number of large winged steeds descended from the sky, coming into the captive’s view as they landed upon the forecastle platform of the galley.
Janus recognized the riders, if not their robust steeds.
“The Trogen’r here for ya!” exclaimed one of the men, in a jeering, derisive manner. “Bet ya like those tidings.”
The riders were unmistakably of the kind that had attacked Janus and the others on the shore, hulking brutes with pronounced, canid visages, and bristling with muscularity. Their steeds were similar in many respects to the Brega and Fenraren that Janus had come to know. They were winged, four legged mammals, of a decidedly predatory nature.
There were several characteristics that distinguished them from the steeds of the tribal warriors and Midragardans. Janus took notice of the distinctive slant to their bodily profile, from head to haunches, even as he beheld their broad jaws, and large, triangular ears. Thick, coarse fur, of varying dark brown and black hairs, covered the formidable-looking creatures, with the fur of their legs ascending in rings of contrasting light and dark hues, all the way up to their underbellies.
One of the Trogens dismounted, and walked over to talk privately with Lord William. Janus could not make out what the bestial creature was saying, as its voice carried across to him as a low rumble.
Fear rippled through Janus, as he thought of the frothing, enraged, non-human warriors that had ambushed them on the beach. The feral-looking creatures’ mere appearance was disconcerting enough, and not just to the captives. Several of the crewmen cast nervous, furtive glances towards the Trogens. The creatures apparently were in alliance with the humans, but there was not a trace of affinity to be found. Of all the men that Janus could see, only Lord William appeared to be completely at ease in the Trogens’ presence.
The conversation came to an end, and the Trogen shifted to face its still-mounted comrades. It commanded the other four Trogens to dismount.
Lord William of Talais strode briskly down the deck towards the captives, with Robert of Mirar to his right side, keeping about a stride’s length back. He wasted no time when he reached the quartet, stating “You are to go with the Trogens, upon their Harrak steeds. They will keep you safe, as they convey you onward. Your destination is eventually to be Avalos itself. Consider it an honor that you will be escorted and protected in a journey to the great city.”
“Your safe passage there is desired by the Unifier. You have nothing to fear from the Trogens,” Robert of Mirar said, when Lord William had finished. Janus followed Robert of Mirar’s sideward gaze, to see that Antonio was pressing nervously against the sides of the ship, as the towering beast-men strode up to the aft-castle and came to the platform to join them.
The Trogen leader looked upon the bound captives, and warned them in a growling tone, ill-humored and thick with severity, “Do not harm the Harraks. Or try to escape. You will find that you cannot fly.”
The Trogens then hauled and dragged the captives in a rough manner away from the aft-castle, prodding them down the length of the galley towards the waiting Harraks. With their wrists still bound, the captives were lifted up onto the saddles of the beasts, hoisted as if they were little more than sacks of grain. Leather straps attached to the saddles were used to tie them down.
Once the captives were affixed to the saddles, the Trogens freed their hands, much to Janus’ immense relief. The Trogen warrior that had addressed them on the aft-castle of the ship then reminded them, in a very harsh timbre, not to entertain any ideas of resistance, or evasion.
Janus, who had ridden upon the Brega, took immediate account of the greater size and much edgier temperament of the Harraks. The steed that he was mounted upon rotated its head, emitting a throaty snarl, its sneering mouth revealing razor-sharp, huge canines. Janus could only take a deep breath as his heart sped up rapidly, drawing upon every shred of his experience with the Brega, as he awaited their departure.
A total of seven Trogens had been provided to escort them, two of which had been circling about in the sky, high above the galleys, as the captives were attended to. The one that seemed to be the leader of the small band finally called out a loud command, when all of the captives and Trogens were saddled up. One by one, the winged steeds leapt from the bow of the ship, dipping down sharply towards the ocean’s surface, before lurching upward violently, with vigorous, rapid flaps of their great wings.
The awkward takeoff was instantly disconcerting to Janus, his throat feeling like it was merging with his stomach in a dizzying embrace. He held his composure as best he could, as they began to climb steadily into the air. He spared a glance back, to see how his companions were faring. Within the angle of the steep incline, the effect was more than a little disorienting as he craned his neck around.
Farthest behind, Antonio had finally succumbed to a wave of fear-driven nausea, retching and vomiting copiously. He had closed his eyes tightly, patently unable to bear the sights of the tumultuous ascension.
Though Logan maintained a stony expression, his eyes bore straight into the neck of his steed, never straying away from where his gaze was locked. Janus knew that the rigid stare betrayed Logan’s own rattled nerves.
Erika looked to Janus as she flew up behind him. She managed a weak grin in his direction, though her hands were drained of color where she clenched tightly onto the reins of her steed. He held her eyes for a moment, and gave her a nod of reassurance, before a gust of wind brought his head back around, as his steed was buffeted about for a moment.
Awash with their fears, the captives kept their eyes trained forward as they began their flight over the blue expanse of the ocean. Only Janus cast a few furtive glances backwards, already feeling sharp pangs of anxiety concerning the unknown fates of the friends that they had left behind. There was no hope of gaining any answers, as the Midragardan island was an indistinct speck at the outset of the flight, before swiftly becoming lost to his eyes.
The Trogens oriented the flight of the group westward, heading directly towards the coastline of the Five Realms. Janus watched the waves coursing along the ocean’s surface far below, looking up occasionally, to watch the stark lines of the coast and hills beyond the water drawing ever nearer on the horizon.
When they were on the cusp of the outer borders, and could see the coast and the tribal lands spread far ahead of them, the Trogens adjusted their flight path once again. The cluster of sky steeds turned sharply to the right, keeping roughly above the line where the land met the waters of the sea. The Trogens spurred the Harraks to pick up more speed, shouting loudly in their gruff voices.
The beasts repeatedly beat their wings down with great force, tilting their bodies a little forward in the exertion. The journey soon became a rush through the air, one that was undoubtedly very discomfiting for
Janus’ inexperienced companions. It was unsettling enough for himself, even with the flying experience that he had gained with Ayenwatha. Janus turned his head away from the winds streaming into his face, and looked towards his comrades.
If it were not for the leather straps holding him in, Antonio looked as if he would have lost his balance from the saddle in those moments, as he swooned and swayed, shortly succumbing to another wave of sickness. The contents of his latest bout of nausea were sprayed out to the winds on one side of his Harrak. Fortunately, no others were immediately behind him.
Janus, the only one of them that had ridden in the sky before, came to appreciate the great strength and speed of the Harraks. Sturdy, powerful steeds, the creatures matched their imposing Trogen masters well.
Janus estimated that they had flown for less than an hour up the coastline when they came into sight of a few vessels, including several galleys. The ships were lumbering along the coastline, the elongated galleys accompanying a couple of larger, two-masted transport vessels.
It was not long before Janus’ group caught up to the small flotilla. The galleys and transports had their sails filled to capacity, taking advantage of the winds that labored to push the vessels onward.
The Trogens brought the Harraks into a descent towards one of the two sailing vessels. It was a hulking, round-bodied ship, with high, raised platforms set at either end, the rear graced by two curving spurs that rose high into the air.
Pennons flew aloft from the vessel, bearing a red spear set against a white background. A sizeable crew was diligently attending to an assortment of tasks, especially with regards to the two lateen sails hanging from enormous yard arms. The crew was human in nature, which in itself was a relief to Janus.
A number of warriors and ship hands surrounded the Trogens and their captives the instant that they landed on the raised aft deck. The four prisoners were regarded with great interest, curiosity emblazoned upon the faces of every observer.
“What task brings you here? This ship is under the command of the Order of the High Altar,” came the firm, unfriendly words of a tall, bearded man, whose gray eyes held an icy gaze.
He was clad in a long white mantle, which displayed a red, spear-like shape over the left breast, matching the images on the pennons. The mantle covered a long, black garment underneath, and he wore a soft black cap atop his head.
“Prisoners, captured from the Midragardans,” the lead Trogen responded. “This ship is bound for the north. Lord William of Talais says these prisoners are for the Unifier.”
The tall man regarded the prisoners quietly for a moment, his cold eyes studying them with keen intent.
“You will find Brother Bohemond below deck, in his compartment. He is still attending to the business of the horses that we are taking to the Sunlands,” the bearded man replied, the hair extending down from his cap blowing in the steady breezes. “Brother Bohemond and those assisting him still have to review some records, but you may take these captives below decks right away.”
The Trogens dismounted, and proceeded to get the four prisoners off of their steeds. As before, they cared little for politeness or comfort in the manner that they handled the captives. Janus winced, as he felt the hard nails of a Trogen’s hands dig into his sides, as he was brought down from the saddle. The freedom of his hands was then taken away, as they were once again bound behind his back.
With grips like iron, the Trogens tugged them forward, towards the wooden stairway to the main deck of the ship. Janus cast a quick glance around. Just off the port side was one of the war galleys, a great, mounted crossbow resting on its forecastle deck.
They continued below through an opening in the main deck, descending a short flight of wooden stairs. Janus’ nostrils were greeted instantly by the pungent scent of animals. The air was thick to breathe, as compared to the open air that they had just left above them.
A moment later, Janus’ ears caught several neighs and whinnies from somewhere within the lower depths of the ship. Given their considerable height, the Trogens had to hunch over to walk in the tighter confines below deck. The ship’s timbers creaked as the vessel rode the waves, and Janus could feel the ocean’s movements in his shaky balance, made worse with his bindings. He was simply grateful that the waves were not choppy or turbulent, keeping to a calm, rhythmic pattern.
There were a couple of voices engaged in discussion, the words of which were understandable as Janus stepped forward carefully along the lower deck.
“They all look healthy, and we have enough provisions to easily cover the leagues until we reach a friendly port,” came a low, deferential voice.
“Then so be it, as our brothers in the Sunlands are forced to use what would be pack animals as war horses. Such are the shortages along the coast there,” replied a deep voice.
“I understand, and I will work to make sure that every horse on this ship reaches the Sunlands, in a healthy condition,” said the other.
“So this record accounts for all transactions?” the deep voice said.
“It does,” confirmed the other. “We will secure the records right away.”
A low growl heralded the approach of the Trogens with their prisoners, just as they neared the doorway to a small compartment, which Janus estimated to be at the bow of the ship.
“Yes, I know you are there, come in,” called the deep voice, with a hint of irritation.
The foremost Trogen opened the creaky wooden door, letting light spill out into the gloom around them. The deep-throated growl came again, louder, and more menacing.
The light of the lamp inside the compartment seemed to be swallowed by the black fur of the huge cat sprawled out on the timber planks. Its gold-hued eyes reflected brightly in the light, fixed upon the incoming group. It was then that Janus took note of the light reflecting off of two immense canines, descending from the broad upper jaws of the beast. Like unsheathed blades, their bared presence cast a fearsome aura.
Janus’ heart nearly stopped, until he noticed that a metal chain secured the great feline.
“And I should presume that new tidings or prisoners have arrived. It is not often that we are visited by the like of Trogens,” the strong, low voice proclaimed, as the speaker came into view. “At ease, Shadow.”
The great cat eased downward at the man’s words, though its gleaming orbs remained riveted upon the prisoners and Trogens. The light from the suspended lantern was enough to reveal a man clad in a white mantle, also displaying the red spear ensign. From his crouched posture, Janus could tell that had the man been standing, his height might well come close to that of the Trogens.
His squared jaw, furrowed brow, and coal black eyes complimented a natural scowl. His hair was cropped just below his ears, and a thick black beard grew along his chin and jaws. He wore a dark, soft cap, like that gracing the head of the man on the aft castle.
He was seated on a wooden bench, and had been pouring over some parchments with another man, of medium build, who wore a black mantle with a red spear ensign. As they came into the light, the first man set the documents down upon a chest in front of him. He regarded the incoming prisoners with scrutiny.
As they gathered before him, he folded his arms across his broad chest. Janus did not doubt that the man’s menacing visage had troubled and intimidated many men before. With a hardened expression, and focused gaze, he studied the prisoners closely, for several moments, before speaking.
“And who might they be?” he addressed the Trogens, though he kept his eyes fixed firmly upon the quartet.
“Captured in battle with the Midragardans. A raid led by Lord William of Talais,” the Trogen dutifully responded, in its rumbling voice. “Lord William said to bring them here. That they are foreign. That the Unifier has interest in them.”
The other man nodded, as he studied the four carefully. His eyes lingered upon the matching pendants that the prisoners wore. He was not the sort of man prone to give away his intentions by his expression, but
Janus caught a moment of recognition in the man, as he stared at the pendants.
Although he did not smile, it was clear to Janus that he was pleased with the decision by Lord William to send the prisoners to him. His interest shifted immediately from worries about horses to rest in full upon the prisoners.
“There is something unusual here,” the man mused aloud, addressing the foursome. “It goes without saying the words. I have been around all kinds, in escorting pilgrims to the Sunlands. I have traveled far on the business of my Order. In time, we will find out who you are, and where you are from. For now, know that you are in the ward of Bohemond, of the Order of the High Altar.”
The man gave them a smile entirely devoid of welcome or warmth. He glanced back towards the Trogens.
“I have few enough men as it is. Keep them bound, and hold them above deck, where all can keep their eyes upon them. I hold you responsible. I will decide the best way to convey them to Avalos,” Bohemond commanded, making a motion of dismissal. “I must finish my business here.”
“As you wish,” the Trogen replied with a nod, though visibly irritated at the order.
The four prisoners were pushed and jostled out of Bohemond’s presence, and led all the way back, out onto the open deck where they were unceremoniously shoved to the right. They were guided to the stern of the ship, taken beneath the wide, raised half-deck augmented by the two curving sternposts.
The prisoners were then thrust down onto the hard wooden surface, hitting it with a series of thuds. They were able to brace their backs on the side, their heads coming to rest just below the gunwale.
A number of the ship’s men paused to regard the strangers as they passed by. Hard, warning stares from the Trogens compelled them to resume their business with the rigging and the other tasks of the large vessel. The ship’s crew kept a wide berth from the upper level with the Harraks.
The sun was still high, but theirs was a shaded section of the ship. The air was comfortable enough, with cool, salty breezes wafting off of the sea waters. Janus could feel the graceful movement of the sailing vessel through the waters. In any other time, the conditions would have been ideal for such a voyage, but there was no mistaking the powerless nature of their incarceration.
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