Dream of Legends

by Stephen Zimmer

  The staccato cackle of the cold-eyed man, and the unsettling chortle of the leathery-skinned one, joined the thicker-set one’s raspy laughter.

  “Try it then,” Erika retorted through clenched teeth, her eyes casting daggers, unable to withhold her fury.

  Her lips trembled with pulsating anger, and Janus instantly feared for her. He tensed, ready to throw caution to the wind to intervene on her behalf. There was not much he could do with his hands tied behind his back, but he was not going to stand by if the degenerate men threatened harm to her.

  The face of the man with the dagger grew taut with visible rage, though he was not able to keep his eyes level with her molten stare.

  “Leave them alone. They are the wards of Lord William. You had ears to hear,” interjected another voice, carrying the power of authority within its confident timbre.

  With a small nose, large round cheeks, and a weak chin, he did not look nearly as intimidating in appearance as the other three men. Though wearing no helm at the moment, he was dressed in a similar fashion to Lord William. He had full length mail sleeves, with mail mittens hanging at the end, and a blue surcoat worn over a mail-coat and padded gambeson. He was a little shorter and narrower of shoulder than Lord William had been, but he carried the same kind of resolute posture.

  Despite his non-threatening demeanor, the three other men ceased their harassment immediately. They quickly backed away from their taunting of the prisoners, keeping their eyes lowered and clearing the way for the newcomer to approach.

  “My name is Robert of Mirar, liege knight to Lord William, of the Viscounty of Talais, in the Duchy of Avanor,” he said calmly, curiosity evident within his eyes. He spoke with a formal air, one that was much more fluid and articulate than the rougher manner of the warriors that had deferred to him. “Here is my advice to you, and I suggest that you heed it faithfully. Cooperation will be the best course for your well-being. If you cooperate, I will make sure no harm comes to you. Simple enough?”

  He slowly regarded the men around him, and Janus caught the sharp glare that he cast each of warriors before he walked away, continuing down to the main deck. While more glances were forthcoming in the wake of Robert of Mirar’s departure, including several more lascivious ones cast Erika’s way, the other warriors on the ship kept their distance from the prisoners, and went about their tasks.

  Once the recovery of their own dead and the despoilment of the longship had taken place, the large galley was prepared for cast off from the doomed longship. Slanted benches were occupied in good order, by pairs of men that took up the ends of long oars.

  Robert of Mirar’s next orders were then relayed down the length of the galley. Janus listened idly to the firm directive as it was conveyed all over the vessel. There was no use for the conquered longship, and as the victors did not want it to fall into enemy hands again, they had to sink it before departing.

  A couple of men labored to swivel the yard arm of the mizzen mast outward, bringing it over the interior of the Midragardan vessel at about midship. A large, heavy shaft of wood, bound by stout, iron studs, was attached to the extremity of the yard arm.

  The iron-studded shaft descended in a plunging free-fall, ending with a tremendous, crashing blow, as shards of wood exploded high into the air. Water was already rushing into the belly of the longship by the time that the crew had pulled the tethered shaft of wood back up to the yard arm. Moments later, a little further down the longship, they let it plummet to another smashing impact.

  The crew then swiveled the long yard arm away from the other deck. It was not long before the longship began to sag beneath the lapping waves.

  The galley crew labored quickly to remove the shaft. A rhythmic chant broke out, as the oarsmen dipped their wooden blades into the seas, and began to pull away from the submerging longship. Not wanting to watch the elegant longship lower into the depths, Janus watched the men as they rowed, using a sit and stand method.

  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.