The three Unguhur ceased in their play, quickly rising at the approach of the human trio. They towered over Gunther as he drew nearer, silently regarding him with their naturally melancholic expressions.
After a short inquiry, Gunther secured the assistance of one of the Unguhur to guide them by raft. He explained to the creature that their desire was to go back to the mushroom forest which rested at the base of the carved rock passage leading up to his home.
The Unguhur agreed without hesitation, and then enlisted one of its companions to assist in the trip. Gunther, Lee, and Lynn boarded the nearest raft, and in a few moments the watercraft was being paddled across the lake.
They continued past several other rafts, whose occupants were engaged in fishing activities. As always, several of the other Unguhur paused and looked upon the surface folk with great curiosity.
The few gallidils that were around paid them little heed as the lengthy creatures drifted along the lake surface. Always interested in creatures of the wild, Gunther marveled at more than one enormous specimen that he espied gliding within the dark waters.
There were a couple of other rafts that were also heading in the direction of the underground forest. The pilot of Gunther’s raft had to slow down considerably as they came very close to bumping the rear of one of the other rafts, just within the narrow tunnel that led from the lake cavern to the fungal forest. They barely avoided a collision with the raft, and proceeded through the tunnel at a slower rate. At last, they entered the cavern with the unusual forest that the Unguhur had cultivated so painstakingly, entailing extraordinary amounts of labor.
Their guide maneuvered them towards an open berth on the right shorefront, near to where the other rafts were already coming to rest. The raft pilot tossed a thick fibrous rope to another Unguhur who was standing on the shore. Catching it, the creature tied the other end around a boulder-sized rock, before catching a second rope, and repeating the process with another boulder. The raft was fairly snug against the natural rock quay when it came to rest in its final position.
Gunther cast his gaze into the fungal forest beyond the landing, and saw the presence of large numbers of Unguhur within the glowing cavern. By their garb, Gunther knew that they were full-fledged warriors. They were gathered in small groups, scattered amid the teeming arrays of mushroom stalks.
Most were seated upon the ground, arranged into rough circles as they conversed amongst themselves. They had stacked their long spears together, near to where they were positioned, leaning them against fungal stalks so that it would be easy to grasp the weapons if the need suddenly arose.
The prevailing mood among the warriors was very relaxed, a general spirit that was comforting to Gunther as they made their way from the shore. The human trio strode up the long pathway through the towering stalks, heading towards the passage opening on the far side of the cavern.
The warriors conveyed no indication of immediate worries or cautions in their postures or expressions, dispositions that certainly would have been in evidence if there was even a remote chance of an impending strike. Gunther took increasing reassurance from the sight. As skilled and resourceful as the Unguhur were in the nuances of cave dwelling and surviving in a sunless world, they were also quite formidable scouts and trackers. Nothing could easily come within their vicinity without the creatures being aware of it well in advance, especially when they were in a very heightened state of alertness.
The Unguhur warriors, while recognizing the presence of the three humans in their midst, paid them little attention and made no move to obstruct their passage. The humans continued upward, trekking through the far end of the cavern and heading directly into the darkened tunnel beyond.
Several Unguhur warriors cooperated readily after the humans had traversed the incline, and neared the top of the passage. They pulled aside blockading materials in order to open up a tiny passageway to allow access to Gunther’s surface dwelling. Gunther and his companions worked through the narrow channel carefully, having to squeeze through with a concerted effort at some points.
Interacting with a couple of the warriors, Gunther learned that the Unguhur had several eyes watching on the surface, and that no enemies threatened at the moment. The warriors cautioned them to return with haste if the enemy suddenly arrived, as they would not be able to hold off for long before reforming the dense barricade of the lower passage.
After having scraped and shouldered their way through the tight passage, the trio walked unimpeded through the rear opening into Gunther’s home. The initial sight that met him was disheartening.
Lynn and Lee appeared to be even more unnerved than Gunther about the condition of the main room, as looks of dismay rapidly spread upon their faces. Gunther’s mouth tensed into the foundation of a rigid, stony demeanor, which forcibly suppressed the open venting of painful feelings inside. He effectively felt stabbed in the spirit, and was not a little angered at the brazen violation of his home.
The place had incurred considerable damage from the invaders, as the few wooden furnishings that Gunther owned had been smashed into fragments. The beaten earth floor, which still had the old straw strewn about it, was covered with numerous chunks and splinters of wood.
“I still have myself in one piece… even if my possessions are not,” Gunther stated tersely to the others, noticing their expressions at the stark vision of vandalism.
They looked back at Gunther with a significant degree of disbelief. He quickly rationalized that they were half-expecting him to vent, and outwardly express some sort of sorrow or frustration.
Gunther, though far from joyous, kept an unmoving, serious mien fixed on his face, as he made his way slowly across the room towards the front door. His leather shoes crunched on the shards and pieces of wood underfoot, as he felt the iron of a broken-off chest hinge bite into his right sole.
Withdrawing his single-edged dagger from a sheath at his hip, he knelt down by a patch of ground that was just to the right of the entrance. Almost at once, he began hacking away at the tightly packed earth. Chunks of dirt went flying, the likes of which prompted him to perodically pause in his digging to clear away from a widening hole.
After several minutes of excavating, his dagger finally struck something solid. The tip stuck in place with the jarring impact. Gunther tugged the dagger free with a jerk, and began to chip away more carefully at the dirt.
Fastidiously, the process dragging on, Gunther proceeded to remove the debris slowly, revealing the form of a rectangular chest that had been buried beneath the earthen floor. Gunther carved and scooped around the sides of the timber chest, piling up dirt on all sides as the hole deepened around the container. With a few jostles, and extra scooping out around the bottom edges, the chest finally came loose.
Gunther gripped the chest at its far ends and pulled it free from the ground. He turned and set the chest down on the floor by the edge of the new hole.
“They did not get this,” Gunther stated with a bittersweet countenance on his face, feeling both melancholy and triumphant as he looked down upon the iron-banded chest. He then repeated more softly, “They did not get this.”
“What is in there?” Lee questioned in a low voice, stepping up to Gunther’s side.
Gunther’s eyes remained riveted upon the small chest for many minutes, and the two with him did not press any further for answers. He was grateful for their respect, as he was wrestling with his own emotions at the sight of the carefully hidden chest.
Finally, he answered Lee in a voice that was just above a whisper. “These are some very special belongings of mine. They are the kind that I could not afford to keep out in my home… if a day like this ever should have come. Such a day has indeed come to pass, and it seems that I judged well to have buried this chest.”
Gunther stopped and took a deep breath. Slowly, he looked over towards the others, and gestured at the outer door.
“You might as well get a few breaths of fresh air. The area is safe at this t
ime,” he told them. “We might remain long underground after we return, or we might not, but you should take advantage of the moment that is in hand. The future is never for certain.”
Lee looked towards Lynn, who nodded silently back to him, as an understanding passed between them. He looked to Gunther and replied gently, “Might as well take advantage of it while we can, like you said.”
His words said one thing, but Gunther could tell that both had been perceptive enough to realize that the woodsman needed some time to himself. Gunther appreciated their keen awareness greatly, even if he did not express his sentiments.
The two filed quietly past Gunther and headed outside. Gunther rose in silence, and looked beyond the front doorway, just to make certain that the two foreigners were not alone.
He could see that there was another small contingent of Unguhur warriors gathered amongst the trees outside of his dwelling, all armed with the type of spear that was commonly used by their kind.
Though obviously alert, the Unguhur body language was just as relaxed as that of the warriors down in the cavern below. They came to a slight start as the two humans walked out into the dappled sunlight around the dwelling, but clearly recognized them, eased, and resumed their quiet watch.
Taking a few steps back into his abode, Gunther dropped to his knees before the chest. He reached down and ran his finger along the latch of the container. There was small keyhole on the iron padlock that secured it, to which a barrel-key in the pouch at his waist fit. He fit the stout key into the lock and turned it, the sharp sounds of the lock’s release rising to his ears an instant later. Gunther then opened the chest, carefully lifting the lid of the container.
Inside the receptacle were items that spanned the course of Gunther’s life. Coins of silver, and a few of gold, some gleaned from the wide travels that he had made with his father as a youth, lay randomly inside. A couple of small silken weavings were neatly folded, and tightly packed to one side, saved from places that still remained very near to his heart.
A small, wood-carved figurine of a Jaghun brought some wetness to Gunther’s eyes, though nobody was there to witness the surge of emotion overwhelming the stoic man. An uncle had given the finely detailed figure to him during his youth. Neither Gunther nor his uncle had known how portentous that gift was to be, for what was to come later in Gunther’s life.
It had been carved by his uncle’s skilled hand, based upon a male Jaghun that he had once seen, which had been purchased by a castellan knight from an old Sunland trader in Paleria. The creature was an absolute rarity, brought from far to the east, where the trader had acquired it in the Sunlands.
Paleria still held a significant population of followers of the Great Prophet, who hearkened from times when their ancestors had once conquered the island kingdom. The rulers of the island kingdom following that age had been Avanorans who had been led there by a mercenary adventurer. The Avanoran kings of Paleria had then given way to the blood of Ehrengard in the person of the Sacred Emperor. Despite all of the changes in rule, the Prophet-following families still endured, having survived throughout the many bitter struggles. They had also maintained continuing ties to the east, which was what enabled the Sun Land trader to bring a living Jaghun to Paleria, to be purchased by a knight of the west.
Gunther remembered how he had often listened in fascination to the tales of the Sun Lands, including stories of birds of incredible size, oil lamps with spirits dwelling in them, and many other fantastical tales that concerned a particularly brave sailor. Yet it was the old trader that had brought the most amazing and wondrous sight to his uncle’s eyes, the resonance of which had continued in Gunther’s life from the day that he had received the carved likeness.
He remembered his very first friends among the four-legged race of Jaghuns, as if those times of many long years before were the present day. Gunther was swiftly taken on an interior journey, as a recollection of the past paraded before his mind’s eye. He did not waver in the face of the swell of memories and images, even as more recent wounds were opened fresh, to bleed once again.
Triker and Jarka had been the most beautiful and loyal of creatures, from their discovery as a pair of vulnerable cubs in the Shadowlands, to the day that they breathed their last in Saxany. Gunther wished bitterly that the Jaghuns, like all of their kind, had a lifespan long enough to outlive the years that the Almighty had granted to the woodsman.
It was almost treacherous, in his view, that the years given to most beasts, especially the ones that were close companions to humankind, were so relatively scant. The creatures that showed friendship to mankind possessed lives so much shorter than those afforded to humans; at least those men and women who managed to avoid disease and violent death.
Gunther loved his first Jaghuns in a special way, as virtually a brother and a sister to him. The deeper sense of kinship and affection had steadily expanded as time went on, once kindled with Triker and Jarka. It had built up stronger with each successive Jaghun that had entered his life. The relationships blossomed in a shining continuum that led right up to the majestic animal that had recently been slain in the forest, Mianta.
The unfettered, enthusiastic love and loyalty shown to him by Mianta, from such a young age, had contrasted mightily with the human world that whirled in seeming chaos all around the woodsman. The impressions made by the starkly contrasting experiences were profound in their impact upon Gunther.
In his life, he had witnessed cutthroats, liars, cheaters, thieves, and countless other disreputable men and women, many of whom were held in popular esteem, and possessed of comfort and wealth. His travels had taken him far across the face of the world. The various lands that he had visited were all consistent in that nobility were so very rarely noble, either in deed or spirit.
As Gunther had gotten older, he had come to recognize more and more of the contrasts between truth and facade among the merchants, ruling classes, and even prominent religious figures, until he was firmly convinced that the human world was plagued with a malignant disease that was only getting worse. More often than not, a beautiful edifice adorned with gold and jewels masked a diseased and corrupt interior, among both groups and individuals.
A kind of maxim had taken root within Gunther, a metaphor for the living reality that he could testify to; a splendid and ornate tomb was still nothing more than a container for a rotting, dead organism.
The ways of humankind had changed much even in the course of his own lifetime. A sense of honor and a tendency for looking out for one another were rapidly becoming nothing more than mere words, which once spoken dissipated in the wind.
A world of tranquil villages and farmsteads was giving way to the power of ever-larger cities, as families were uprooted and dispersed. Gunther had strongly come to believe that the people flocking to the cities were chasing phantoms, fleeting and ephemeral delusions of hoped for wealth and comforts that would never be realized. The truth was that most were chasing after a wealth that would always concentrate itself in the great guilds of the west, and the nobles and rulers that chartered the towns that they occupied; powers that effectively controlled the lives of the urban populaces with an ironclad will.
The Unifier’s precipitous rise to such great heights of power had been one of the final events that had pushed Gunther to go into the east. He had sought escape and seclusion in a part of the world that he had hoped was not yet fully tainted with the decay that he saw so prevalent in the west. That hope had been naive, for he had quickly discovered that the same forces flowed in the east as in the west. Even more dismaying, his sojourn had led him straight to his most onerous, soul-wrenching experience of all.
Gunther could never forget the last, long journey that he had undertaken. He had finally departed the east, broken-hearted and weary, working his way through a meandering journey back to Ehrengard. He had then taken the overland route to the east, reaching the edge of his homeland, then crossing over the borders of Saxany.
He had found
nothing to help alleviate the heaviness in his heart, having held a sliver of hope that at least some things would be different in the storied land. The Saxans were good enough as a people, but the disease that he had seen in the other lands was beginning to show itself there too.
Though King Alcuin and many respectable thanes still stood tall and strong upon the foundation of the values that they, and those before them, held dear, a malignancy was indeed present among the people. Many in the populace now openly whispered their desire that the realm look to the ways of the western lands, and seek relations with the Unifier, in order to secure more prosperity for themselves. Those subtle murmurs, Gunther knew well enough, could easily transform into shouted advocacy in a very short time.
During his first months within the new land, Gunther had traveled all about the kingdom. News and tales had come in with the merchants that traded with the edge of the western kingdoms, and Gunther had heard a host of opinions, as conversations bandied about the burhs and greater towns of Saxany.
For every individual such as Aethelstan, there were three others who harbored a reluctance to oppose the Unifier, in Gunther’s final assessment. Those kinds of individuals seemed to hold freedom in very light regard, as something not worthy of struggle if, by accepting the Unifier’s will and authority, they could fill their bellies and coin pouches easier.
Gunther had promised himself then to hold little pity for the latter types of people, if the preeminence of the Unifier ever fell upon the Saxan lands. He had come to the rueful conclusion that there was no mistaking the eventual course of things, in that the Saxan lands would fall by conquest or acquiescence.
The kind of people propogating across the world, who had started to define what was evil as good, and what was good as evil, were woefully incapable of seeing below the surface of such a powerful, cunning entity as the Unifier indeed was.
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