In no more than an hour, the Darroks passed over the great city itself, before turning towards the west, to set out for the forestlands of the Five Realms. The enormous flotilla cast sprawling, dark shadows over the city as they soared across the skies high above it.
Far below, whether a market, craft shop, or street, activity ceased entirely, as many thousands of eyes peered skyward at the passing juggernauts. It was only recently that they had seen a similar formation heading over the city, on its way to the distant war zone.
The passage of the Darroks once again sent a reflexive flutter through many hearts, as men and women hurriedly whispered prayers of thanksgiving that they were under the protection of the Unifier. The purpose of the creatures was a mystery to most observers, but it was understood by all that it was much more advantageous to be aligned with the Unifier, than to remain defiant.
*
AYENWATHA
*
Several days passed by idly upon the small island where Eirik’s homestead was located. The exiles appeared to be in much better spirits within the atmosphere of relative serenity, especially following the tumult and horror of the Darrok raid.
Ayenwatha was glad for the stability, knowing that several of the exiles felt guilt at the mere sight of himself and the other tribal warriors. He had been adamant with them that his choice to convey them to the island was both a free choice and one that he saw as absolutely necessary.
Nonetheless, several of the exiles had openly expressed deep regrets that concerns for their well-being had taken Ayenwatha and the other Onan warriors away from their own people during such an uncertain time. While he did not regret his choice, Ayenwatha could not deny that the exiles had touched upon one very sensitive aspect of the mission.
There was so much unknown, the cognizance of which plagued his mind relentlessly. Bringing the exiles under the protection of Eirik did not lessen for a moment the sting of Ayenwatha’s incessant worries over the fate of his people.
Ayenwatha had put on a stoic demeanor whenever he was in front of the exiles, not wishing to add further to their burdens, but there was no denying that he was deeply restless. His mind was constantly distracted, consumed with thoughts about his people, and the threats that they were facing back in the Five Realms.
He had chosen full silence on the matter, striving to keep his worries about his peoples’ upheaval and sufferings to himself. The foreigners were bewildered enough with everything that they had been unwillingly thrust into. Ayenwatha knew in his heart that they had no part in bringing the deadly ordeal from the skies upon the Five Realms.
Even so, Ayenwatha could not fully mask the pensive expression that spread across his face during a few unguarded moments. The distress was tearing at him without respite, from deep inside, but he continued to await the arrival of word that King Hakon, and other Midragardan leaders in closer locales, had been informed of the burgeoning plight facing the Five Realms.
Several of the Onan warriors who had initially helped to escort the exiles had been sent back to the mainland, leaving the morning after their arrival with the Lnuk warriors and their large, seagoing canoes. A few of the departed Onan warriors had since returned back to the island, this time flying in upon Brega sky steeds, as Ayenwatha had requested them to do.
He had then sent them as scouts, dispatched to discover whatever tidings they could gather, and to bring back any updates concerning the mass exodus of the tribal people from their villages.
After two more days, the far-ranging scouts had returned by sky steed to the Midragardan village, bearing word that there had been no major developments since Ayenwatha had reached the island. They did carry with them some troubling reports that the enemy’s army was now fully encamped on the western edges of the tribal lands, and its numbers were swelling by the day.
At the very least, no fighting had broken out as of yet, and no more death had rained down from the skies, but Ayenwatha could take no heart from the absence of violence. The enemy was like a coiling snake, tensing to lash forward with blinding speed and fearsome power, and it would strike at the moment that it chose.
Each day rattled Ayenwatha’s nerves even more, as he knew that it would not be much longer before the full force of the enemy was unleashed upon the tribal lands. Making matters even worse was the daily worry that the attack had already occurred, and that Ayenwatha would find out about it only after it was well underway.
He decided to remain upon the island for the time being, even after several reports of the massing enemy forces indicated that the invasion was worrisomely close. Gaining assistance from the Midragardans was paramount to the hopes of his people, as without it, Ayenwatha knew that they stood no chance. He also realized that he did not know the full truth regarding the exiles, but his heart told him that he had to try to keep them out of the Unifier’s clutches, as best he could.
*
JANUS
*
The exiles had all inferred that there had to be an imperative reason as to why the Onan war sachem continued to remain with them on the island. The observation was never openly raised to Ayenwatha, but Janus, Logan, and some of the others had discussed the issue at length amongst themselves.
On the eighth day of their stay on the island, two stout Midgragardan warriors arrived in the early morning at the quarters that had been given over to their use. Politely, but firmly, they summoned Ayenwatha and all of the exiles.
Once Ayenwatha and the exiles had been gathered together outside, the stocky, bearded warriors wasted no time, escorting the group through the buildings of the seaside homestead towards the open grounds spreading beyond it. They marched out from the buildings and proceeded into a wide, cleared field, which had been set aside to lay fallow for the current growing season. Several incredible sights were awaiting the exiles when they arrived in the cleared expanse.
A gathering of armed Midragardan warriors was assembled around Eirik. Their cloaks blowing about in the chill winds, they regarded the newcomers quietly, as the group approached them across the open field.
Janus paid the Midragardan warriors no heed, as his eyes were riveted upon the amazing vision consuming all of his attention. Magnificent and striking, the creatures gathered in the midst of the field were breathtaking to behold. Most of them were standing upon their four long legs, but a couple of the beasts were resting their bodies on the ground.
The collective sight of the beasts rendered Janus utterly speechless. They were the essence of imaginative myth made into flesh and blood, living, breathing legends right before his eyes.
In the body, the creatures were akin to immense wolves. At the shoulder, the shortest of them was at least as tall as the height of an average human. The creatures had a noticeably elongated profile, with relatively narrow backs that ended in muscular hindquarters, out of which extended long, bushy tails.
Their burly chests swelled with a pronounced muscularity that flowed up and around to a pronounced hump just beyond the back of their necks. The heads of the creatures were incredibly wolf-like, with lengthy muzzles, broad faces, and upright, triangular ears. Their piercing, golden eyes seemed to look right through Janus, as the creatures regarded the approaching newcomers.
Their legs were longer and leaner in proportion to their bodies than were those of a terrestrial wolf. The legs ended in broad paws that were each equipped with a set of rather stout, very durable-looking claws.
A pair of very broad wings connected into the bulging muscle mass located down past the base of their necks. Tucked in at their sides, the wings were covered with an extremely fine layer of fur. The latter did not fully obscure the extensive network of veins lining the surface of the expansive appendages.
A thicker coat of lustrous fur covered the rest of their bodies, giving each of the creatures a particularly striking appearance. For most, the coats were of a silvery, gray hue. The luxuriant sheen of the silver coats in the sunlight made it look at a glance as if their fur was composed of the
precious metal itself. A couple of the others were black-furred, and one was snow white, imbued with either an ebon or opal richness that fully matched the grandeur inherent in the coats of their silvery counterparts.
All of the creatures had harnesses and saddles for the accommodation of riders, both elements being noticeably different in fashion from those used by the tribal people on their Brega steeds. The leather breast straps were wide and thick, as compared with the long, thinner crupper straps crafted for the elongated forms of the wolf-like creatures.
The wood-framed saddles featured a lower pommel and cantle, and were fitted with a few additional, loose-hanging straps, a couple of which ended in metal buckles, for securing the rider to the seat. Hanging down from the saddles were sets of wide iron stirrups, a few of which had silver filigree ornamentation that showed brilliantly against the dark iron used to fashion them.
Around twenty-five of the impressive creatures were present within the field, exceeding the number of Midragardan warriors currently gathered there. Janus did not know what to say, as it was all that he could do just to continue walking alongside his companions while he stared awestruck at the winged creatures.
“The Fenraren are beautiful creatures, with a great heart and strength,” Ayenwatha said to Erika, just behind Janus, as they drew nearer to the gathered warriors. “You already know of our Brega. These are the sky steeds of the Midragardans. The Brega and the Fenraren are both of the Skiantha, the precious flying steeds of this world.”
“Absolutely beautiful,” Erika answered him with reverence in her voice.
Janus had to call up some additional willpower to take his eyes off of the stunning creatures, and glance over to Erika. Her eyes were filled with sheer wonderment as she gazed upon the winged beasts. She looked positively enraptured, such that she did not even appear to take notice of Janus looking at her.
Janus then saw that the other exiles were all standing still, closely gathered around Janus, Ayenwatha, and Erika, with similarly awed expressions.
“Fast and powerful … the Fenraren are a most special creature of the One Spirit,” Ayenwatha continued, in obvious admiration of the creatures himself. “They can soar like the great birds of the air, and they have the kinship, nobility, and ferocity of the wolf of the forest.”
When they neared the cluster of Midragardan warriors and Fenraren, Eirik strode forth to meet them. His tall, proud posture complimented his broad-shouldered frame, casting a dignified, resolute air about him.
He looked to Ayenwatha, and glanced towards the seven exiles. Janus noted the intense interest in his brief look towards them, a look that had not been present in his eyes when they had first arrived at the island.
*
AYENWATHA
*
Eirik looked intently at Ayenwatha, and the Onan warrior could see the deep tension splayed across the Midragardan’s face.
“My friend, the times are indeed urgent! King Hakon has sent for you, to come in person, without delay,” Eirik informed Ayenwatha, his voice grave and insistent. “He has provided an escort for you, of some of the best sky warriors in all of Midragard. You and any warriors that you choose to bring with you will be provided with Fenraren steeds.
“The journey will not be an easy one, and only you and tribal warriors of your choosing are to take this path. King Hakon insists that the seven exiles must not be risked. There are some small islands along the way, where we may gain some rest and sustenance … and I will be going with you as well.”
Eirik’s demeanor and timbre left no doubt in Ayenwatha’s mind that the Midragardan would not accept a refusal of the journey.
“What has happened? Why is there such haste?” Ayenwatha asked Eirik.
The Midragardan’s attitude was such an anomaly in comparison to his normal disposition. Something was seriously amiss, and given recent events Ayenwatha was not feeling overly patient.
“I know little more than what you already know, Ayenwatha. The king is very troubled at the news of the brutal attacks upon your villages. He is also greatly troubled by the news of the seven that you found in your lands. He does not want to risk the loss of time, not even a moment,” Eirik stated, the insistence surging again within the warrior’s voice.
“Very well, I shall go with you then,” Ayenwatha replied after a moment’s consideration, giving his acquiescence with a single, purposeful nod.
“King Hakon also asks that you allow him to keep the outlanders safe within the Midragardan lands,” Eirik said. “But they must not travel upon Fenraren.”
This unexpected request gave Ayenwatha some initial pause, but Eirik continued speaking before the Onan war sachem had a chance to reply.
“We do not know who they are, for certain. But if they are sought by our enemies, then the skies will be far more dangerous to traverse than the seas,” Eirik stated, his voice firm. “It is advised that the outlanders travel upon our longships, for any journey to Midragard. Their path will be slower, but there will be less chance of them being discovered. And once in our lands, they will be much safer than in yours. No enemies muster upon our borders, and any enemy desiring to harm Midragard will have to cross the seas first.”
The Midragardan looked a little reticent, if not regretful. Ayenwatha perceived that Eirik was feeling a great aversion at having to openly speak of the threats to Ayenwatha’s own homelands. He fell silent for several long moments, as he pondered the solemn words of Eirik. A momentous decision lay before Ayenwatha, and he had to make it quickly.
There was no reason to mistrust the Midragardan King, and nothing that Eirik had said sounded unwise. The friendship between Midragard and the Five Realms had been strong and fruitful for a great many years. The reputation of King Hakon’s wisdom and integrity stood far beyond that of any foreign leader that Ayenwatha’s ears had ever heard account of, with the possible exception of the latest King of Saxany.
Ayenwatha therefore regarded Eirik’s message in a spirit of genuine goodwill. Its origin was from the very mouth of a king who was beloved by his own people, and well-respected by others. The king’s effect upon his people had been transforming. That, more than anything else, spoke the loudest concerning the king’s nature.
The legendary raiding tendencies of the Midragardans were now very diminished from what they had been many years before. Occasional Midragardan freebooters and pirates still existed, but were much reduced in number. Under King Hakon’s leadership, they were rooted out and subdued wherever they were found.
King Hakon was effectively ushering in a new age for Midragard. It said much about the man that he had reined in the heated impulses of young, landless warriors, who had formed the greater proportion of the devastating raiding fleets in ages past. Ayenwatha could relate to such a profound period of change, as the Wizard Deganawida had revealed a higher vision for his own ancestors.
Adding to Ayenwatha’s conviction about King Hakon was the fact that there was no real good reason for Midragard to lead the tribes of the Five Realms astray. Even when Midragard had been ruled by a mosaic of warrior chieftains and petty kings, when raiding both each other and foreign lands was a common pursuit, the Five Realms had held little attraction for the ravenous appetites of the seaborne raiders. The two lands did not share the same passion for precious metals, forged weapons, or jewels. The western lands with their considerable material wealth were much more inviting targets, abundant in gold, silver, and captives.
Learning very quickly that they would face a formidable enemy and gain little to nothing in plunder for their efforts, Midragard’s raiders soon turned away from conflict with the tribes. There was continued contact, and the roots of trade had gradually developed. The Midragardans no longer referred to the tribal peoples by the slightly derogatory term of skraelings, but instead began to identify the native peoples according to their individual tribes.
Friendship between the two peoples had thus grown and prospered. Trade had expanded, with the Five Realms providing primaril
y furs, in return for the Midragardans providing forged arrowheads, spearheads, axe-heads, and other forms of metal work that were of practical use to the tribal people.
In the time of King Hakon, that relationship had never been better. If there was ever a chance to gain significant help for the Five Realms, Ayenwatha knew that the possibility lay the strongest with King Hakon.
Also weighing heavily upon his inner deliberation was the matter of the seven exiles. He had heard of the legends regarding visitors from other worlds, tales that were common in the west, and known to the Midragardans as well. While it was true that the seven foreigners might not be the ones prophesied in those ancient stories, Ayenwatha did not want to take any chances, or make any loose assumptions, within the increasingly dark, turbulent age.
Above all, he could not deny the stark realities facing his own lands, the conditions involving Midragard, and the level of threats likely to face each of them in the near future. The Midragardans were unquestioned masters of the sea, and were the only peoples occupying their far southern lands. They resided very far from Avalos, and Eirik was absolutely correct in saying that any future threat would have to cross the seas first.
Ayenwatha’s own lands, by contrast, were under a massive, immediate threat. It was already to the point where his people were being effectively exiled from their own tribal lands. There was no question at all that, of the two places, the safest refuge for the exiles would be in Midragard; if they could be safely conveyed there.
The answer was fairly simple, even if Ayenwatha had felt the responsibility to carefully deliberate it. Ayenwatha took a deep breath, and looked Eirik squarely in the eyes.
“It will be done as you wish, my friend,” Ayenwatha announced, clasping Eirik’s forearm, in the tradition of the Midragardan people. With his answer, Ayenwatha put an unprecedented amount of trust in the Midragardans.
“I will stand by you in all things, my friend. Never forget that. We share the same enemies, and we will face them together. But let us make haste now. We must waste no more time,” Eirik stated with urgency.
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