Dream of Legends fie-2

by Stephen Zimmer

  Below the Shimmering River to the east, down south to where the coastline rounded and turned west to run along the narrow, turbulent straits, were a few remaining places where the Five Realms people could cling to desperate hope.

  “If that word has been received by all of the Onondowa, and those who tend the breeding herd, I do not yet know,” Deganawida continued. “Since our last Grand Council, we have not yet been able to take account of all the sachems who sit upon it. Our people have been cast out of their villages, and are scattered within our forests.”

  “Is there a place where all of your tribes know to gather? A common place that they will be moving towards? What if the Onondowa lands are being invaded as your western lands are? Could the breeding herd be cut off from you?” asked Gunnar, a little anxiously. “I have only traded along the Shimmering River, and am not familiar with your northernmost lands.”

  “We march to the east and south, and are trying to gather into one body, but there is not full consensus on a final gathering place,” Deganawida replied. “But do not trouble yourself greatly, Gunnar. The lands of the Onondowa are not so easy for the invaders to travel through. It is why the invaders came through the lower hills to the west of here.

  “The Giant’s Furrow, and the swamplands to the north of it, make the Onondowa lands very difficult terrain for an army. If the breeding herd has not been brought to the south, or even if it is somehow blocked from reaching the south, it is not likely that it is under grave threat.”

  The Giant’s Furrow, a deep, rocky gorge through which the strong Thunder River flowed, was a formidable boundary that had long been a blessing to the Onondowa. It alone was more than enough to deter the invaders from concentrating upon Onondowa lands.

  The Swamps of Shadow to the north of it were impassable to those that did not know the pathways through them. If the Onondowa with the breeding herd were somehow cut off from the rest, they could sequester themselves deep within the swamplands.

  “That brings a little more peace to the growing burdens of my heart. Long have I admired the nobility of your steeds,” Gunnar commented. “Though I still wish to send Fenraren to search them out, as the loss of your breeding herd is terrible to even contemplate. And maybe a few of your sky warriors can help our riders look for likely places.”

  “I will see that your riders are accompanied by a couple of ours,” Ayenwatha replied, with a nod of agreement.

  “We will find the breeding herd, and make certain that it is reunited with your people,” Gunnar declared in response, looking to both of the tribal sachems.

  Ayenwatha then begged leave of them, to go look after the sentries, so that the ones who had been immediately assigned to the watch upon the column’s halt could gain a little rest.

  Deganawida stared off into the night for a few moments in silence, before he turned towards Gunnar. The Midragardan’s bright eyes gleamed in the moonlight, as he took notice of Deganawida’s gaze.

  A foreboding feeling was interminably nagging at Deganawida’s mind. He felt a compulsion to confide the speculations to Gunnar, curious to see whether the Midragardan perceived any sense of greater dangers himself. If Gunnar did, Deganawida wanted to know the man’s thoughts on the matter.

  “Gunnar, long have you and I shared in friendship. Long have our people held bonds of goodwill and trade. Please listen to my words with an open mind,” Deganawida stated slowly. “I desire to know your counsel, if you would offer it.”

  Gunnar’s expression grew somber, as he responded with a tone of piqued curiosity. “Of course I shall listen to you, Deganawida. You are both a true friend, and a true ally. Withhold nothing from me. What troubles you?”

  Deganawida took a deep breath, and spoke in a low voice that was meant for Gunnar’s ears only. “I see only a vast darkness ahead of us

  … something greater, far beyond this invasion. A matter of spirit, and not flesh.”

  “A matter of spirit?” inquired Gunnar.

  “I see a malevolent power driving the forces that are attacking us,” Deganawida replied. “It is like the blackest and most violent of storms is looming behind the hordes that beset us. It is something much more than this plague on our lands… and far older than even the Five Realms.”

  “You are speaking of… “ Gunnar started to say, before hesitating, as if he did not want to give open voice to the thing that came to his mind. He finally added, at almost a whisper, “The Adversary, as my people would see it.”

  Deganawida nodded silently, in confirmation.

  “And the One Spirit of your people? Sounds much like our All-Father? Do you think for a moment that we will be forgotten if this is a matter that goes beyond the ken of mortal men?” Gunnar responded. A trace of firmness emerged within the worrisome look that had crept onto his face. “Emmanu, and The All-Father, like your One Spirit, will not leave us undefended.”

  Deganawida looked upon Gunnar with a little amazement. Where Gunnar had earlier spoken of harboring doubts regarding the All-Father, the man had now given voice to a more simple level of faith, of a kind that so many Midragardans tended to carry.

  For many of Gunnar’s people, the faith of the Western Church was simply something expected of them by their jarls and kings. Embracing that faith had been the proclaimed order of the legendary King Olaf the White, many years in the past, which had broken age-old bonds that the Midragardans held with their elder gods.

  A great number had been forced to outwardly accept the new faith. Many had done so grudgingly, while some accepted it as a matter of course. A considerable number had been dragged into it under threat of life and limb, but some held fast to their old ways, meeting violent, barbarous ends for their steadfast refusal.

  Despite the purging, a few Midragardans had secretly clung to revering the old gods, establishing a legacy that spanned to the present day. Deganawida had long wondered whether Gunnar was one of those who quietly revered the old ways, but his simple, direct statement indicated that he was a man who had taken the new faith to heart, even if he still wrestled with doubts.

  “No, I do not believe so,” Deganawida responded. “But I wonder if we may be in the darkest days, spoken of in your prophecies. I know that it is said that the just and the honorable will be hunted down without mercy in those times… and that it will be a time like no other before. I cannot help but think of such a time, in the light of what my people are now going through.”

  Gunnar looked into Deganawida’s eyes. Despite the relative absence of light, Deganawida could see the grave concern reflected within the depths of his gaze.

  “There have been many such claims. There has always been war, and tidings of war, and there have always been storms and famine,” Gunnar said. “Only the All-Father is said to know of the time spoken of in those prophecies.”

  “That is true, but the truth also remains that if the prophecies are not false, then the dark days will come,” Deganawida countered. “I have long meditated on this feeling that has grown within me, and my heart tells me that the Unifier is no mere man… not even one of the great Wizards. No, I suspect that He is something much more… something more dangerous than you or I can even fathom.”

  “There have been other rulers whose hearts were governed by malice, Deganawida,” Gunnar reminded him. “Though it gives me no pride to say so, Midragard has been a home to such rulers before.”

  “As has the Five Realms,” Deganawida said. “As has every land upon the face of Ave. Wherever there are people, there have been those that have chosen the darker path.”

  “Then what gives this Unifier such greater importance?” Gunnar asked.

  “What single ruler has ever been able cast a shadow across the world, like this Unifier has,” Deganawida replied. “He has lived far beyond the years of mortal men, and shows no signs of age. It is known that he is not a Wizard, though it is said that He works great signs, and possesses incredible powers. Yet it is not this that speaks in the silence of my heart.

  �
�No, it is the willingness of other rulers to cast aside their own ambitions of power to align with the Unifier. The pursuers of power do not easily put aside their own interests.

  “It is also the reality that kings and rulers of many lands see the Unifier as the bringer of a shining new world. It is the willingness of so many lands to acclaim the Unifier as the one to put all of their hopes in to bring about peace, even though they all know He sends great wars upon others.”

  “Willingness? I would say that many have been forced,” Gunnar said, with a hint of a growl. “That is why we are fighting now. We will not be forced to bend our knee to this usurper.”

  “And more have been forced, as time has passed, and His influence has grown… but in the beginning, this was not so,” Deganawida said. “No, power swirled around the Unifier because of desire… and then, once that power was established, it began to be wielded, as it is being used now.”

  Deganawida recalled his reflections upon the Unfier. The fact that the Unifier had once called down a column of fire from the sky, in front of a great multitude, was not what had resonated most powerfully in earlier times. As fantastical as that singular event had been, engulfing a popularly despised troublemaker within a spectacular inferno, it was a much more subtle quality regarding the Unifier that lingered and endured in the minds of men and women.

  Galleans living in the eastern regions of their kingdom, while trading with the tribal peoples, had oft spoken of their experiences with the Unifier. They had remarked about His striking, comely appearance, as well as the flooding of warmth and confidence that they had all felt while in His presence. Even if the observer was just one amid a numerous throng, it was a very common impression that the Unifier could somehow focus on each and every individual comprising a larger group; all at the same time.

  Some attributed the peculiar sensation to some mystical art, but most held that The Unifier simply held the special favor of the All-Father. Galleans, by and large, deemed the Unifier to be blessed in abundance from the vaults of Palladium, as He had quickly empowered prosperity and stability in their own lands.

  He had succeeded where even the Peace of the All-Father movement of the Western Church had not, empowering a rising peace that had soon spread across the western lands. The Peace of the All-Father movement had merely slowed some of the excesses of the nobles, and harsher levels of suffering incurred by the peasants during the incessant warring among Gallean lords. By contrast, the Unifier had brought many long, bitter feuds to a complete halt, washing away fiery acrimony that had burned for generations in many instances.

  Many in the western lands would have been taken sorely aback at Deganawida’s speculations, if offense was not taken outright. He was well aware that the populations of the lands under the shadow of the Unifier found it incomprehensible that the Five Realms and Midragard, as well as Saxany, had refused to acquiesce to the Unifier’s bold vision for all of Ave.

  Yet as a tree could be identified by the kind of leaf or fruit that grew from its branches, so could the Unifier’s true nature be perceived in the actions that were being done on His behalf. The stones plummeting from the sky, and crashing down into tribal longhouses, indiscriminately shattering the bodies of man, woman, and child alike, were not the fruit of any being whose heart was aligned with the One Spirit.

  The remembrances of the devastation inflicted upon his people inflamed tensions inside of Deganawida, as his mouth tightened. His dark eyes took on a sharper edge as he glanced towards Gunnar.

  “No, this battle we now fight is just a small part of a much greater war, and we must not falter,” Deganawida said. “We may be overcome by numbers, but we must stand as long as we possibly can. I will hold them back with my last breath, if that is what is asked of me.”

  “We shall hold them back, and we shall hold them back together,” Gunnar swiftly returned, a fierce temperament surging to the fore. “And you must not lose heart. Never forget that even if these are the last days, even if they are the darkest that have ever graced this world, it shall not change the side that I stand with, and proudly wield Golden Fury for.”

  A slight smile pierced the stony countenance on Deganawida’s face. “I know that you are true, my friend. Please understand that my heart grows heavier by the day. My tribal brothers and sisters are being slain, and driven farther from their homelands with each day. We are being forced from the lands that we have known our entire lives. I fear that there will be no end to this, as long as we still live.”

  “I fear that as well, my friend,” Gunnar said, calming down a little. “And this shadow will not spare the homelands of my people. But we must not lose heart. The worse that it may all seem, the more we must believe in what we fight for.”

  The look of deep concern etched on Gunnar’s face at the beginning of their conversation had transformed into a visage of grim determination, and now it changed again. A stoic, largely unreadable expression manifested, as the Midragardan grew quiet. After a little time had passed, without another word being said, Gunnar turned his head away from Deganawida, and stared out into the night.

  Deganawida settled himself down onto the hard earth, and soon drifted off into the depths of a dreamless sleep. It seemed as if he had just blinked, before everyone was being roused to continue the march.

  Judging by the position of the moons, Deganawida deemed it to be just past the middle of the night. It was still a long way until the mists of the pre-dawn wafted through the trees, but there was a decidedly crisper chill to the air.

  Deganawida’s sore muscles and stiffened joints complained loudly as he labored to limber up his old, aching body. The journey was resuming all too soon, at least for his own body’s needs, but the column of warriors had to take full advantage of the shroud of night.

  Ayenwatha came by and spoke for a few moments with Deganawida, and the old sachem could read the sympathy in the war sachem’s eyes. The younger warrior was fully aware of the much greater burden being embraced by Deganawida, who did not enjoy the swiftness of recovery that those with fewer years did.

  There were only a few Midragardans and tribal warriors that approached Deganawida’s age, but even they were better prepared, as their bodies had been honed and conditioned on a more regular basis than the elder sachem. Yet none of them would have noticed any difficulties in Deganawida, as he gave off an untroubled outward appearance, despite bearing a plague of throbs and spasms within.

  Deganawida availed himself of a few mouthfuls of water, and a little more of the maple-sweetened cornmeal, before the column started forward again. The ensuing, final segment of the march proceeded far better than Deganawida expected, as they found themselves journeying into a younger part of the forest.

  While it was accompanied by a steep increase in the prevalence of brush, the thinner canopy overhead allowed for more light to break through from above. The faint light cast by the stars filling the night sky, and the sharp luminance of the pair of moons, was enough to reveal virtually all obstacles in their path.

  The warriors of the Five Realms serving as scouts and pathfinders knew every contour and change in the terrain. It was an advantage gained from switching scouting duties over to whomever was from the villages within a given area. Years of hunting and tracking had given the men invaluable knowledge and experience that now greatly benefited the night march.

  While regrettably too brief, the extended rest had still served to bolster Deganawida’s spirit and energy. His mind, though vexed at the danger to his people, was not being weighed down further. There was nothing new to consider, or contemplate, at least until more information could be gained regarding the enemy’s movements and attacks. When the sky began to lighten, and a dampness permeated the forest, Deganawida knew that it would not be much longer before they engaged the enemy in battle.

  Realizing that, the steady, crunching trod of Midragardan footsteps upon the forest floor was welcome music to Deganawida’s ears. At the very least, the people of the Five Realms would no
t be standing alone when the new day dawned.

  *

  LEE

  *

  Ryan planted a heavy, sideways kick into one of the soft mushroom stalks, breaking the monotony of his back and forth pacing within the underground forest. His foot plunged deep into the stalk, smashing through the softer outer surface, and causing the entire length to wobble and tilt.

  Another well-placed kick sent the large stalk crashing down in the vicinity of three gallidils who were resting languidly along the bank of the underground river. The startled creatures hissed and snapped in alarm and irritation, whipping around in reflex. Scurrying on their short, stubby legs, they hastened toward the comfort of the river’s dark waters. Within seconds, all but their eyes were submerged within the flowing liquid haven.

  “Done acting like a child?” Lee asked Ryan, with palpable indignation. “If I were you, I would want those things to be friends. We are in their territory.”

  He gestured off towards the gallidils, a couple of which were staring back at them from the water, drifting a little closer back toward the shore. Lee mused that the unwavering gazes of the creatures might well be conveying extreme annoyance, at the prospect of nearly having a fungal stalk dropped unceremoniously onto their long, massive heads.

  “We don’t know anything! We’re stuck in this so-called kingdom. If that’s what you want to call that pile of rocks. Who knows what’s going on up there anymore?” Ryan exclaimed angrily, pointing upwards.

  He started to angle towards the nearest stalk offering a promising target for his foot.

  Lee threw his hands up in disgust, irritated with the youth’s vandalism and tantrum. “Look, show some respect to their forest. We are here, whether we like it or not. We’ve got to deal with reality… as we still haven’t woken up from any dream, and we sure as hell haven’t figured out how to get back home.”