A little hard bread, which was in one of the leather saddle-pouches carried by one of the Himmerosen, and some equally stout, rather dry cheese was divided up amongst them. They were able to wash it down with a little water from a skin. The meager fare was far from satisfying, and did very little to blunt the edges of their gaping appetites.
In short shifts, the Saxans afforded each other precious moments of rest. Aethelstan remained unconscious, drained and wounded from the arduous battle.
Edmund looked over towards one of the other Saxans, a man named Webba, who was now standing with him by the opening of the cave. Both men had taken their bows and quivers off of their sky steeds. Quivers hanging at their waists, and bows in hand, they would at least have some means of deterring an intruding, enemy presence from a distance.
“We cannot take to the skies, Webba,” Edmund mused, in a low voice, looking out into the hushed woods. “There is little doubt that we would soon be overwhelmed. We cannot go along the ground recklessly, for we would be destroyed if a full force of the enemy swarms over us. We both know the outcome of the battle. Even so, I would risk something, were it not for Aethelstan … but I fear that we are now trapped.”
Webba nodded grimly. A very pious man, and father of three well-mannered sons, he often served in Aethelstan’s garrison in Bergton. Unsurprising to Edmund, his advice was religious in nature. “Pray, Edmund. That is something that you may do.”
“You speak truly, and maybe the All-Father will deliver us yet,” Edmund replied softly, smiling gently, and taking a deep breath to offset the pressures that he felt rising from their deteriorating prospects. With so much tugging at his mind, it took several moments to relax the tensions riddling his body.
Webba suddenly held up one hand, an abrupt gesture that at once quieted Edmund. With a finger, Webba pointed firmly just off to the right. Through the trees, a horrific sight brought a sudden, freezing chill to Edmund’s heart.
Edmund felt a tingle of adrenaline race through him as he witnessed multiple large forms moving among the trees, heading right in the direction of their hideout. Turning, he took a silent step back into the shadows of the cave, and carefully roused the last sky rider from his nap.
Edmund signaled to the man to stay silent, and to arm himself, before he rejoined Webba by the cave’s opening. Slowly, Edmund drew an arrow and notched it. He raised the bow up, drawing the string back until it held a modest tension. To his right, Webba elevated his own bow and selected a target.
The two arrows were honed upon the point where the first massive form finally broke through the underbrush. The feline-like creature that broke through the trees, and gazed directly towards the cave, was paralyzing to behold. Edmund knew that it could be nothing other than a Licanther.
Three others emerged just behind the first. Their huge heads held an arsenal of formidable teeth within powerful jaws, including the two curving, sword-length monstrosities that protruded down from their upper lips. The immense, stabbing pair of teeth had given the creatures a legendary reputation that had worked its way into many fireside tales.
The creatures seemed to move almost effortlessly, their rippling musculature flowing in undulating precision, as they crossed the floor of the forest on their broad paws.
There was no sign of any Atagar with the robust cats, as Edmund would have expected, from what he had learned of the Avanoran forces arrayed against Saxany. This was clearly a pack that had somehow been set loose, whether for some unknown purpose, or due to the death of their rat-like masters.
The first Licanther kept a steely, cautious stare trained in their direction, as a couple of the others sniffed at the air and ground with obvious excitement.
Edmund recognized the particular path that they were following. It was the very approach to the cave that they had taken in escaping with Aethelstan.
There was no sense of outright recognition in the creatures at the moment. Nonetheless, they were heading in a direct approach towards the cave. Discovery would only be a matter of time. Recognized yet or not, the conflict between the two groups was imminent, and inevitable.
Edmund looked all around the incoming creatures, but there appeared to be only four of the Licanthers. Even so, their numbers were considerable enough, as combined with their speed and power the creatures posed a monstrous threat to the three Saxans sequestered within the cave.
Even if their first arrows found their mark, Edmund knew that he and the other men would be vulnerable to the storm that would follow. Licanthers were reputed to be one of the most aggressive of the creatures that the enemy used for warfare. They were trained and used by the Atagar because of their fearlessness, and ferocity, facts that the well-read Aethelstan had briefed Edmund about.
Edmund and the two warriors with him leveled their aims, using eye contact with each other, and gestures of their heads, to make sure that they did not all target the same creature. They knew that they would have to take out at least three Licanthers with the first round of arrows, to have any chance to survive. The arrows would have to fly extraordinarily true for that scenario to happen, and Edmund did not want to consider how slim that chance was. He narrowed his own sights upon the huge Licanther in the lead of the oncoming quartet.
At any moment, he expected to hear sounds of agitation coming from the sky steeds behind him, as they caught the scents of the huge, predatory cats. The Himmerosen would fight back fiercely, and maybe, between the Saxans and their steeds, the Licanthers could be stopped from reaching the prone Aethelstan. Edmund was resolved to die if it prevented the sabre-toothed beasts from setting their claws and fangs on his friend.
A deafening, howling chorus abruptly rang out in the forest. The outburst of noise shattered the taut stillness, and caused the Licanthers to whirl about haphazardly, in confusion. Edmund and the others held their arrows, as the edges of the forest came alive with an eruption of motion.
Swift and raging, a number of sleek, massive forms poured from the depths of the forest. Edmund could not believe what his eyes were vividly revealing.
The creatures exploding out from the undergrowth were Jaghuns. Without a doubt, they were the very creatures raised by the woodland recluse that Aethelstan had long ago befriended, and often spoken of to Edmund.
There was a quality about them that was very reminiscent of canine forms, but they were far larger, and undoubtedly stronger, than any dog that ever lived in Saxany. The Jaghuns were bearing down upon the surprised Licanthers, carrying the fight right to the feline creatures.
The Licanthers, stubborn and fearless themselves, were not ones for retreat. Their supple forms whipped about, and lunged forward to engage their rushing attackers.
Flurries of claws, and snapping jaws filled with sharp teeth, abounded, as the Jaghuns and Licanthers clashed. It was an even match, in terms of sheer numbers, as four Jaghuns had emerged from the forest to counter the Licanthers.
Eerie outcries from the animals, some sharp, and echoing great pain, filled the forest air. To Edmund’s ears, it was a blood-curdling dissonance of primal rage and death.
The strengths of the Jaghuns, with their larger bodies and more powerful jaws, were set against those of the quicker Licanthers. The latter possessed an edge in the skilled use of their sharp claws, and in their slashing sabre-teeth.
One Licanther had been taken down quickly in the fighting, its throat seized and torn out by the crushing jaws of the largest Jaghun. As such, the Jaghuns immediately gained an advantage in numbers, which swiftly proved to be a critical factor in the short, furious struggle.
When the blistering melee came to an end, the foliage all around the scene of combat was sprayed with blood, as the last of the Licanthers twitched reflexively where it lay. A moment later, its body shuddered, as it fell into a breathless stillness.
All of the Licanthers had been slain, along with one of the Jaghuns. One of the other Jaghuns had suffered serious injuries, having been raked deeply along its left flank by a swiping claw. When
the surviving Jaghuns lifted their heads up, they all displayed bloodstained muzzles, giving the already intimidating creatures an even more rabid appearance.
The remaining three Jaghuns, sniffing at the air, rapidly honed in upon the cave opening. After becoming very still, their eyes seemingly piercing the darkness of the cave mouth, the two that had been largely unscathed in the fighting turned about, and trotted back into the brush. The injured one of their number followed behind a moment later, exhibiting a noticeable limp as it favored its injured side. Loud barks could be heard shortly thereafter, followed by another series of howls.
“They know we are here,” Webba stated, his eyes wide with fear. “But they do not attack.”
“Let us hope that the Woodsman is near,” Edmund replied, in a low voice.
Edmund knew what it felt like to be utterly helpless. He did not know what to make of the strange behavior of the Jaghuns. They had been the Saxan warriors’ saviors, but he had seen no sign of the reclusive Woodsman that he was sure the beasts belonged to. He also did not know whether the creatures regarded the Saxans differently than they had regarded the Licanthers.
With the Licanthers having been overcome so rapidly, he did not like the Saxans’ chances at all, if they happened to be suddenly beset by the remaining Jaghuns.
“Should we go out of the cave, into the open?” Edmund posed to the others. “If the Woodsman is near, he will know that we are not of the Unifier’s forces. I would not want a needless mistake made, because we gave no alert to the Woodsman.”
“With not knowing how many of those creatures might be out there? And not knowing for certain if they can tell friend from foe? What if the Woodsman is not around?” Webba ventured, looking at Edmund as if the sky steed leader was losing his sanity. “If we are in the open, we are even more defenseless than in here.”
“And what if they attack here, without really knowing who we are? Even one of them could overtake us, and kill us all. We need to find a way to give the Woodsman a chance to know who we are … or whose side we are on,” Edmund retorted. “It is not just our lives in the balance, but Aethelstan’s as well.”
Standing up, he threw his bow and arrow down, and proceeded directly out of the cave’s mouth. Holding his hands up, palms out, he left the protective shelter of the shallow grotto. His heart raced with terror, but he knew that there was only one way to give advance evidence of his identity to the master of the Jaghun pack, if he was somewhere in the vicinity.
He trusted to the words that Aethelstan had told him about the Woodsman. Aethelstan had remarked how the creatures were exceedingly well-trained, and uncanny in their cleverness.
Over the many years that Edmund had served in the Select Fyrd of the Saxans, the creatures had never assaulted anyone from the realm. Edmund held tightly onto that singular notion, hoping that the Jaghuns had somehow been taught to differentiate friend from foe.
The howling continued to resonate through the trees as he exited the cave, but it gradually died down, as one moment passed anxiously into the next. Silently, and without warning, one of the Jaghuns came back out from the shadows of the forest growths, and approached Edmund cautiously. A second, the injured one, lumbered out a moment later.
Though Edmund’s eyes darted about, there appeared to be no sign of the third.
While they moved carefully, the creatures showed no signs of aggression towards Edmund. One moved to his left, and one to his right, padding forward slowly. Unarmed, Edmund was rendered helpless if the beasts decided upon a concerted attack.
There was nowhere for him to run to, and he knew that he could not defend himself barehanded against two of the sizeable beasts.
The first of the creatures, the largest, drew up to Edmund, its great head even with the middle of Edmund’s chest. In rapid inhalations, it sniffed Edmund, the distended nostrils conveying an array of scents back along the passages atop its broad, short muzzle. It moved its head around Edmund’s arms, legs, and then back up again to his chest.
The feral eyes of the Jaghun were calm at the moment, the fires subsided from the furious battle with the Licanthers, one of whose mauled body lay less than ten strides away. Edmund’s breath caught in his chest, as he awaited the Jaghun’s verdict.
The tail of the Jaghun slowly began to wag, and the creature abruptly licked Edmund’s exposed hand. Despite the friendly gesture, Edmund’s heart leaped. He was still highly unsettled at the prospects of the Jaghun’s long, sharp teeth being so close to his unprotected skin. His blood raced with the fear gripping him, as sweat beaded upon his brow.
The other Jaghun then limped up to Edmund, a little laboriously, just as the third of their number came out from the forest to join them. The one in front of Edmund seemed to sense his rising discomfort, and nudged his hand with its snout. Edmund, having owned dogs, recognized the canid gesture as being one of offered friendship.
He slowly reached out, and stroked the top of the head and neck of the formidable creature. He hoped the similarity to dogs continued to hold, as he scratched the creature lightly behind its ears. To his immense relief, the Jaghun’s tail continued to wag.
“I think that it is okay!” Edmund pronounced in an even, subdued voice, as he nervously smiled at the trio of Jaghuns.
Slowly, and with no small degree of trepidation, the other two Saxans emerged from the cave. They were quickly sniffed, inspected, and then greeted by the Jaghuns. After the other Saxans had evidently been accepted, the largest Jaghun started to race about, and bark incessantly.
“I think that they will lead us back to the woodland dweller,” Edmund said, referring to Aethelstan’s hermit friend. He finally began to relax his nerve-rattled edge, though his eyes did not stray from the Jaghuns.
“Then let us get our Himmerosen, and Aethelstan,” Webba stated, starting back for the cave entrance with the other Saxan sky rider close behind.
After several moments passed, they returned with the steeds and Aethelstan. The great thane was being carried on the back of one of the Himmerosen.
The Jaghuns clustered about the Himmerosen, whose fidgety movements, and reflexive snorts and growls, indicated their extremely uncomfortable states. Their postures were defensive, and they were tensed to lash out at the first sign of a threat to them. It was only the firm commands and closer proximity of the two Saxan sky riders that kept the agitated steeds even mildly cooperative.
The Jaghuns, through their movements, effectively channeled Edmund and the others along, as they made their way from the cave and headed back towards the direction of the battlegrounds. Edmund, having remounted his own steed, rode quietly in the saddle of his Himmeros. He looked about in amazement at the formation of the Jaghuns now navigating the forest and guiding them, one set to each flank, and one positioned ahead.
The entire group maintained a steady pace, and only a short time passed before they reentered the outer boundaries of the battlefield. The sights greeting the Saxans were impossible to stomach, with the hundreds upon hundreds of dead bodies lying all about them. Carrion birds were already circling and landing for the onset of a gruesome feast.
Edmund thought that it was a very merciful stroke of fate that Aethelstan was unconscious. His own heart could not have been more downtrodden at the appalling scene of destruction. Each moment brought a sharp pang to his spirit, as he recognized many faces among the lifeless bodies spread across the ground.
The three men could not help but marvel at the numerous giant beings now occupying the area. Due to Aethelstan’s stories, Edmund guessed their nature at once. They were certainly the race of beings that the Saxan kings had long ago discovered, dwelling within and under their lands. The huge, humanoid beings, each holding a great spear in a massive fist, eyed the Saxans with suspicion, as they were ushered onto the battleground by the Jaghun escort. Without the Jaghuns accompanying the Saxans, Edmund knew that they would have received a less than pleasant greeting.
The two healthy Jaghuns bounded off, curling out of si
ght around a rise in the ground ahead. A series of excited barks soon came from the direction that they had gone. A few moments later, they reappeared. A broad-shouldered man, with a thick, dark beard, fatigue etched vividly across his face, strode along with them.
Edmund recognized him without any need of introduction. It was unmistakably the eccentric forest dweller. As if sight of the man triggered a memory, Edmund finally remembered that Aethelstan had said that the Woodsman’s name was Gunther.
The man’s eyes darted past the three warriors, and came to rest upon the fourth, unconscious figure that they bore along with them. His eyes stilled, and his face hardened, as he focused upon Aethelstan.
The great thane’s chest rose and fell with breath. Almost instantly, a smile of radiant joy cracked the man’s stony expression. A burst of energy coursed through his movements and features, as he ran swiftly up to the Himmeros bearing Aethelstan.
“He lives!” Gunther exclaimed buoyantly. “Praise the All-Father, he lives!”
“Yes,” Edmund replied, as Gunther gently placed his hands upon Aethelstan, eyeing him closely, beginning to examine his wounds and bruises. “We got him out of the battle just before he would have been killed. He received some wounds during the fighting, and has not since regained consciousness.”
“I thank you with all of my heart, for risking yourselves to get him free,” Gunther responded, shooting a brief glance back at Edmund. “The world needs a mind such as his, and a man such as him, especially in these dark times.”
Gunther looked away, towards a few of the tall creatures nearby, and then hesitated. He returned his attention to Edmund.
“I will speak more of them to you later. There is no time now. But these are the Unguhur, friends to the Saxans, who have stood by the Saxan people in this war. They share common cause with Saxany, and they are here to help us with those that have survived. Give them your trust, as they lend aid to us.”
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