Dream of Legends

by Stephen Zimmer

  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 naïve, 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.

  Gunther had come to Saxany with initial thoughts of living around a village or town, but his further disgust with many of its inhabitants had pushed him to embrace the idea of a largely solitary existence. At the end of it all, he only desired a hideaway deep in the woods, far removed from the travails and storms encompassing humankind. Only then, in such an isolated environment, did he think that he could begin to heal.

  The dark stream of thoughts caused Gunther to close his eyes for a few moments. The madness that was gripping mankind was only getting worse in a world turning itself upside down. Gunther found that he could hardly stomach what he could never even begin to truly comprehend.

  Looking back into the chest, his eyes went from the Jaghun figurine to a golden arm bracelet. The look on his face softened even further, the very instant that his eyes alighted upon the bracelet. The wetness in his eyes swelled, until a lone tear escaped, and ran along a slow course down his right cheek.

  Irene.

  She was perhaps the greatest reason that his faith in people had been almost completely shattered. She was the prime reason why he had essentially fled the east, with such an aggrieved, disillusioned heart.

  Irene was the first and only love that he had ever had. To him, she was so perfect, beautiful, and eternal. As a younger man of twenty-six, filled with new hopes and aspirations as he arrived in the east, he had thought that the whole world was ahead of him. After his life had intertwined with hers soon after, he had thought that he had found everything that he was looking for, and that she would always be by his side.

  He was certainly of a marriageable age, and his mind and heart were fixated upon only one person in the entire world. Gunther vividly remembered how he had always been captivated by her warm eyes and soft smile, a look whose memory now evoked only pain within his heart.

  Gunther had found his true love in the heart of distant Theonia, or so he had thought at the time. It had seemed that a great blessing had come into his life, in the form of the daughter of one of the Empire’s authorized dyers of purple silks. In Gunther’s eyes, the precious, regal color, derived from a highly valuable, rarer breed of sea snails within the region’s oceans, was unfit for his own beautiful empress.

  The young woman’s father often visited the vast and ornate palace complexes within the Empire’s great capital city of Theonium. Gunther had gotten to know him well, and had felt confident that he had the man’s favor, in the courting of the merchant’s youngest daughter.

  At the end of each day, when Gunther was banged up with the effects of an education by trial and error concering the ways of the world and fighting arts, Irene had always performed her own little miracles upon him, lifting the aches and pains away. Often, it was accomplished by merely her close presence to him.

  She had soon professed that she would be there for him forever, and he had promised the same in return. Irene had been the one who had lied, as it was not long after that she had broken her vow.

  Unbeknownst to him, a local officer, in one of the native units of the central, elite Tagmata force, had caught her affections. Gunther had no indication that the relationship with the officer had developed so strongly and quickly, until Irene had abruptly informed him one day that their courtship was over.

  Leaden, cold rains had been poured into his world without warning. He had not seen so much as even a hint of one gray cloud on the horizon, to herald the sudden change in the skies of his life.

  Gunther found it all so very hard to believe at the time, thinking that he was in the grip of some terrible nightmare from which he would awaken at any moment. Stunned, and shocked, he was frozen to inaction and sadness for many terrible days, as he began to realize that he would never truly awaken from the nightmare.

  One of the harder things about the experience was that he did not even know of the other man when their courtship had been broken off. In truth, Gunther had learned nothing of the reality until they had already been split apart for many days. The recognition of the lengthy deception by Irene dug ever deeper into his raw wounds.

  Irene had claimed earlier that the reason for breaking off the courtship was that she needed to find her soul, and to contemplate her faith. Though shocked, he had tried to understand that as much as he could. He agreed with her that everyone needed to find some bearing in regards to w
ho they were, in order for them to contribute to the life of another. He had not wanted to press her much on the matter, being that he had come from the Western Church, and she was under the Eastern one, with its Grand Shepherd.

  The shock and betrayal coalesced and transformed into a sheer torrent of anger when, in the coming month following their severance, the actuality of what had happened became clear. In a fit of rage, Gunther had sought after the Tagmata officer, to crush the serpentine thief that had slithered into the paradise of his life. Friends of his in the Emperor’s vaunted bodyguard, the Vargi, had forcibly restrained him. It had taken many of them to do so, and more than one had incurred a heavy blow in the process.

  It was only the stark realization that Irene was as much of a part of the betrayal as the officer that finally kept Gunther from committing an atrocity, one that he would have greatly rued in time. Though barely, he was able to keep control of his vitriol and heated emotions, culminating in a steely resolve to survive the terrible betrayal.

  As it was, he did not undertake any action that would have caused him to face the heavy justice of Theonia, even though he was wracked in awful torments at the mere sight of the two of them. Even though he was in the Emperor’s bodyguard at the time, he was still a foreigner, and the Tagmata officer held favor with many of the elite families within the massive, lavish city. Had Gunther given in to his volcanic urges, he would not have found pardon in the Imperial courts.

  He had still paid a terrible price. Having long been reticent to trust others, even before that time, the damage done to his perception of the world in the aftermath of the horrid deception was tremendous.

  In comparison to anyone he had ever known, he had sincerely thought that he could at least trust Irene, and that he really knew her. After the terrible revelation, he was left in a state of mind that degenerated quickly to a level where he never really trusted anyone from that time onward. Gunther now felt strongly that the only being that he could put all of his faith in was the Creator.

  That darker, pessimistic state of mind that had taken hold in those former times had never softened for Gunther, and he had chosen to keep the bracelet, to visibly remind him of that jarring betrayal.

  Mianta and Irene.

  The two individuals, one a Jaghun, and the other a human, had taught him important lessons in the path of life. Both had involved their own experiences of joys and heartaches, and both had left scars, for very different reasons. Yet the past and the present were still very much the same in essence at the end of the day, as they both left him bleeding inside.

  A part of Gunther bitterly wished that he could regain at least a modicum of the innocence and confidence that he had enjoyed as a youth. Life had seemed so much more full and sunlit in those distant days, times that seemed ever more like an ephemeral dream.

  Nevertheless, Gunther realized that he had grown, learned much, and had come to realize how much more he did not know. It was all a part of living life, and he knew that it would continue throughout the remainder of his years, in one form or another. The small items in the chest were indeed important reminders of the various facets of that reality, and he did not regret keeping any of them. As such, Gunther was not about to let the powerful, highly personal symbols ever be forgotten, or, if he could help it, become lost.

  There was one last principle item in the chest that attracted his attention. It was a pendant that was fastened to a long, thin leather strip that could be worn around the neck. Gunther had obtained the pendant shortly after he had established his new dwelling place in Saxany. He had finally found a place of refuge in the western forests of Wessachia, lands that had once been a border territory of the old Northern Kingdom. In those days, he had continued to make a few journeys to the easternmost parts of Saxany, going to the great port city of Landahn as he began the phase in life that continued up to the present moment.

  A stranger traveling through the woodlands had given the silver pendant to him. Gunther had come across the stranger under quite unusual circumstances, during his return from one of those long sojourns to Landahn.

  Gunther had been cutting through the woods, taking a shortcut off of the narrow forest trails that oriented him more directly towards his newly-built timber home. A skilled woodsman, he was not daunted by brush, wild animals, or more difficult terrain, and simply wanted to be back in his dwelling sooner than later.

  Gunther had encountered the mysterious stranger shortly thereafter. The individual that he came upon was an elderly gentleman, who had appeared to be on the verge of complete exhaustion. The stranger was far off the few beaten paths that the Saxans used to pass between their villages and towns, and he was entirely alone.

  The man had looked to be in tremendous need, right on the verge of collapse as he leaned against a tree. Even though Gunther had finally achieved a place intended for his own solitude, he had not hesitated to come to the man’s aid.

  Gunther carefully helped and guided the elderly stranger back to his simple abode, taking some circuitous paths to lessen the strain on the old man. The woodsman had proceeded to provide the old man with a full meal, and an evening’s worth of rest and shelter.

  The following morning, to Gunther’s utter amazement, the old man had insisted on resuming his journey. He looked spry, and was warmly engaging in his manner. Had Gunther not known better, he would have found it very hard to believe that the old man was in a very downtrodden state mere hours before. There was a spritely youthfulness within the old man’s eyes that Gunther had never forgotten since.

  The two of them had then proceed to share a warm meal and a period of spirited conversation together. It soon became evident that the old man’s travels far exceeded Gunther’s own substantial experiences, deepening the mystery of it all.

  The more that Gunther looked upon him, the more that he recognized physical characteristics about the man that hearkened to the people that lived in the lands where the Holy City was located. The angle of his face, his dark eyes, his prominent nose, and the tone of his skin indicated a life that had originated in those hallowed regions of the Sunlands.

  The man was evasive about his origins, much to Gunther’s frustration, but the woodsman was not about to disparage anyone for leaving elements of their life in the past. Before he had departed, the old man had expressed his heartfelt gratitude for Gunther’s kindness and generosity. It was then that he had given Gunther the silver pendant, retrieving it out of a pouch that had been hanging at his waist.

  He had never forgotten the old man’s voice, as the stranger had given the pendant to Gunther. The resonant words echoed across time itself. “In time, wear this, as it will give you strength for going back among the world of men. You will see in time that not all is lost, even when you feel far more alone and betrayed than you do now.”

  Gunther had been quite confused by the old man’s words, but the old man had gently reassured him that they would make sense in his future. Gunther had smiled amiably in response, dismissing the gesture at the moment as the whims of a senile old man trying to express his gratitude.

  Gunther had spoken no further about the matter to the old man, as the morning visit had drawn to an end, and the stranger prepared to depart. After the old man had taken his leave, and set off again on his path, Gunther had stood just outside of his front doorway, savoring the serenity of his immediate surroundings. His heart felt very peaceful as he listened to the rustling of the leaves, and he had never felt more convinced that he had selected the ideal place to live out the rest of his years.

  He had then held the medallion up by its leather cord, and taken his first close examination of the small pendant. It was nothing exceedingly ornate, but it held a decided elegance within its simplicity. It was a circular, silver medallion with the upward-pointing, spear-shaped symbol of the Redeemer worked into one of its facings. The opposite side was entirely smooth, devoid of any symbol or other manner of design.

  Gunther breathed a heavy sigh, thinking back on those old m
emories, especially of the moment that the flesh of his fingers had first touched the silver object. The instant that Gunther’s skin had made contact with the cool metal, he had felt a sudden wave of lightheadedness roll over him. He had also felt a deep-penetrating tingle that had coursed throughout his body, from head to foot.

  Whether it was just mere coincidence, or there was some sort of strange power emanating from the amulet, Gunther did not know. He had been around magic often enough by that point in his life, and had already seen its power work for good and for ill.

  His preference had eventually become to avoid the risk of magic altogether, at least when he had a choice in the matter. He was not about to begin altering his ways, even when there was an element of doubt. Whatever power the pendant might have possessed, Gunther had decided to stow the medallion away, and keep it safely out of sight.

  His distrust of magic had only strengthened and deepened in the following years. He had even refused the villagers’ simple charms and amulets, which a few of them had offered as gifts to him after he had begun to interact periodically with the inhabitants of a few nearby locales. Gunther did not want to court any effects of magic during the mundane endeavors that he undertook, while in his self-imposed exile from the world at large. As such, the pendant had remained firmly hidden away, as year followed year.

  Now, looking down upon the pendant, as if for the first time, Gunther wondered why it had not graced his neck ever since that long past day. The world had been dark enough to reach him even here, right in the heart of his refuge within the lonely outer forests of western Saxany. He knew more than ever that the world would never respect his wish to be left alone.

  Tenderly, he picked up the medallion for the first time in many years, and looped the thin leather strap around his neck. He shut his eyes to steady himself as dizziness again rushed to his head, the very moment that the pendant rested against his chest. A tingling sensation permeated him, causing Gunther to physically quiver.