Dream of Legends

by Stephen Zimmer

  She looked down at the ground forlornly.

  “What else? Do you know anything at all about where they went?” Gunther prodded her.

  Slowly, Lynn brought her eyes back up, though she had not ceased her trembling.

  “They told us that there was probably nothing to worry about … the battle above was over, and that there were other places in the forest that wouldn’t have enemy forces. They really believed there wouldn’t be any real danger above right now.

  “Then they left, and were gone for a long time. Lee and I tried looking for them. We couldn’t find them, and then we got the help of the Unguhur. They put a search out, and found one who had guided Ryan and Erin on the underground streams, to a place where there is a passage that took them out to another part of the forest.”

  Gunther shook his head, as he bitterly cursed his ill fortunes, his mounting irritation spreading abundantly across the features of his face. His countenance darkened, as he thought of the foolishness that so many people always seemed so eager to embrace.

  Ignorance combined with stubbornness had brought a great number of people to their doom over the course of humankind’s history. Gunther had long ago stopped trying to fathom the rationale by which fools set about their ill-advised tasks, especially within the confines of his own land and time. Gunther was not about to start trying to understand foolishness brought over from a strange, unknown world, one that he had not even heard of until his encounter with the four now in his care.

  Though he knew that neither Ryan nor Erin were anything like himself, he could not help but imagine what his own decisions would have been like, if he had been one of them. Had he been taken to another world against his will, and found himself blessed with a guide and protector, one that knew both the nature and land of that strange new world, he would have likely remained on his knees in extended thanksgiving to the All-Father. He would never have questioned anyone who kept him safe in the midst of an unfamiliar world, especially one caught up within widespread wars and turmoil.

  Muttering further curses under his breath, he forced himself to stop worrying about what he would have done. The decision made by the two outlanders had never been his. No amount of agonizing over what would have been his own choice would change the circumstances.

  “Then I suppose we must find them,” Gunther responded matter-of-factly, for there was nothing else sufficient to say, and he was not going to take out his ire on the messenger.

  “What can we do?” Lynn asked him.

  “Not much, but their idiocy will be putting others in trouble … myself, perhaps the Unguhur, and perhaps yourself and Lee,” Gunther said with grim certitude. His tone then sharpened. “Do not forget that, if you ever ponder such foolhardy notions.”

  Lynn shook her head emphatically. “No, Gunther. I’m sorry. Please don’t think that we don’t appreciate you. Erin and Ryan are being very rash, and what they’ve done is their choice alone. One is still young, and the other I can’t understand sometimes. But it’s certain that both of them are being very, very stupid.”

  “Rash and stupid … either reason can get you killed in these woodlands, even if there were no invading army,” Gunther remarked darkly, though not intending to mock her assertions.

  Slowly, he drew himself up into a sitting position, and cringed with the motion. He would have thought such stiffness of body and muscle to be for someone twice his age. He moaned softly, as all extremities of his joints, and all the length of his muscles, seemed to cry out at once. It had been a long, long time since he had taxed his body to such an extreme.

  The causes for his body’s weakened state flashed through his head. The war had not been of his own making. It was not of the Saxans’ making either, but he had foresworn taking part in the conflicts of kings and empires.

  He had paid dearly for the several hours spent over the course of a couple hellish days, sifting through the numerous bodies. On countless occasions, he had lifted dead corpses, some still in their mail armor, to uncover others beneath, as he made certain that any who still had even a frail breath of life in them were not abandoned.

  In some way that he could not yet fully fathom, the urgency of that horrible task was somehow expected of him, if he considered himself a true follower of the All-Father. Now, faced with responding to yet more ill-advised follies, something similar was being asked of him. As tired as he was, there was nothing to do but respond.

  Gunther winced again as he stood up on his sore feet, still in the leather shoes whose soles were now nearly worn to their end. He leaned back, and twisted side to side, trying to ease the cracks and pops out of his weary body. There was little else to do but to put on his baldric, which was the only thing he had taken off when he had returned to Oranim. Even his belt, with his seax and affixed pouches, still remained wound around his dirty tunic, just above his breeches.

  When he was finished stretching, he looked over at Lynn, who was standing patiently. At the very least, he could console himself that she had not been acting foolishly, and that she shared his ire towards the others.

  “Let us go find those two fools,” he said, striding past her and out through the chamber’s entry way. “But do not expect me to give them a warm welcome when we find them.”

  “I don’t plan to give them a warm one either,” Lynn replied.

  When they exited the chamber, he saw Lee standing at the far edge of the rooftop, looking out over the underground city. Lee turned towards them as he heard them emerge, a drawn, tired look on his face.

  “I didn’t know that they would be dumb enough to leave on their own,” Lee said, with an undercurrent of apology.

  “People make their own choices,” Gunther retorted, pausing a second before adding, “and they are responsible for those choices. So if they come to an ill end before we reach them, then they are the only ones to blame.”

  Neither Lee nor Lynn contradicted him, both continuing to look very downcast.

  “We will not delay further. Take me to the fellow who guided them to the passageway,” Gunther said, walking over to the opening in the roof where the ladder descended down to the next chamber. His Jaghuns, having heard his approach, were already stirring, and milling around the base of the ladder.

  Gunther fingered the hilt of the sword at his side, perhaps for emphasis, as he paused at the top of the ladder. “Out in these forests, there are many creatures that can endanger your life. If you go, we stay close together. Is that clear?”

  One glance told him that he had their full cooperation.

  With the remaining mature, healthy Jaghuns in his wake, Gunther strode down towards the shoreline. Regaining his stride, Gunther outdistanced the other two easily, prompting them to break into a mild jog just to catch up with him.

  They did not have far to go, as Lee and Lynn pointed out the particular Unguhur that had conveyed Erin and Ryan to the passageway leading to the world above. It took a couple of moments to board all of them, Jaghun and human, and they set off across the lake. They worked their way to an area of the cavern located far to the right of the tunnel leading back to the underground forest beneath Gunther’s abode.

  The Jaghuns appeared eager for the adventure, as they paced the drifting rafts. At a few points, they cast fidgety looks towards a pair of immense gallidils, cruising slowly along the surface in the vicinity. One was a behemoth of its kind, so large that it drew wary glances from their Unguhur guides. The huge creature possessed a back as wide as the raft, and a length that was many times longer than the watercraft.

  The scaly giant paid them little heed, intent on gliding to other parts of the underground lake, and the streams and rivers beyond, where bountiful fish and other creatures supplied the needs of its considerable appetite.

  They finally entered the stream exiting the right side of the cavern. The ceiling of the passageway was much lower than the one leading to the underground forest was, such that the tall Unguhur had to crouch as they worked their way down the smaller channe
l.

  It was clearly a passage that was well-traversed by the Unguhur. There were many areas in the clefts, folds, and niches of the rock where the familiar bluish-light emitted from luminescent fungus patches cultivated to provide ambience. In the tighter confines of the tunnel, the light cast a strange pall over the water, raft, and travelers, as they continued on past several other offshoots and confluences over the course of a couple of leagues.

  The Unguhur pilot presently slowed, and deftly navigated them off to the left as the passage widened on that side. He brought the raft to rest against a rough, thin shelf of rock at the stream’s edge. A thick, pungent scent reached Gunther’s nostrils, as they heard flitting sounds within the depths of the shadows above them.

  Scattered about the upper ceiling of the adjacent small cavern were a fair number of bats. Gunther gestured to the others to keep their silence, not wanting to suddenly arouse the horde of tiny creatures nesting in the high reaches of the rocky ceiling.

  The Unguhur gestured at an opening off to the left, accessible by the rock shelf. The opening was marked with more of the luminescent fungi. Gunther nodded in response, and signaled for Lynn and Lee to follow him. The Jaghuns were unloaded a moment later. The beasts stared upward towards the bats, though Gunther hushed them before they made any loud noises.

  As they entered the passage to the surface, Gunther found that it was just big enough for a single Unguhur to move through. From the look of the two sides of the passage, it was also clear that some stone had been cut away, to further widen it.

  After working their way through the damp passageway, ascending upwards on a pronounced incline, they found themselves in a small cave entrance that exited out of a hillside, just beneath a wide rock overhang.

  The light of day again cascaded down through the leaves of the trees, the overhead sun having reached its zenith, at the summit of midday. Lynn, Lee, and even Gunther had to pause for a few moments, to take in several deep breaths of the fresh, clean air when they emerged from the cave’s mouth. Gunther blinked and squinted as his eyes readjusted to the daylight.

  The Jaghuns took to the natural settings with open enthusiam. They were not creatures that could ever be entirely happy down in the dank, moist, shadowy underground world that the Unguhur had fashioned. They looked elated to be surrounded by forest and sky once again. They bounded sprightly down from the cave mouth, sniffing the air, trotting around the trees, and circling back to where Gunther and the others stood.

  “I wish that I could let them run free for awhile,” Gunther commented, watching the creatures with a little regret. “Perhaps we will find your companions soon, and this will all be nothing more than a nice respite for my Jaghuns.”

  His face did not crack a smile, as he looked around him. He took out some hemp-line, and set about restringing his longbow. As welcome as he found them, the woods were nonetheless a very unpredictable place, and precautions always had to be taken. It was not called a wilderness region without reason.

  “I would think they would not go too far away,” he continued. He finished stringing the bow, and called out some signals to the Jaghuns, making a deliberate, sweeping hand gesture towards the trees before them.

  The Jaghuns fanned out wide in the area before the cave, lowering their muzzles and sniffing the ground diligently. Examining the bow, and tugging on its line, Gunther started down from the mouth of the cave towards them. The creatures then appeared to hone in upon one track in particular, and padded away towards the trees.

  “Come, we have fools to find,” he said to Lynn and Lee, before trotting off into the forest after the Jaghuns.

  The Jaghuns’ forms disappeared amidst the trees ahead, pulled forward by their broad snouts, rooting assiduously along the ground’s surface to follow the distinctive scents that they had picked up.

  *

  FRAMORG

  *

  Framorg rarely slept soundly, but the night following the first day of battle had been entirely devoid of rest. There had been a meeting of the various commanders that had lasted well into the night.

  His own initiative had been well recognized, as the Trogens had achieved at least a moral victory on the heels of the near disaster that had been incurred on the Andamooran left flank. Framorg did not doubt that his daring maneuver had injected a great wariness into the planning of the Saxans.

  The collapse of the Andamoorans had caused a great shift in overall plans, as the Avanoran heavy cavalry had been suddenly diverted to stem the advance of the Saxans against the left flank of the allied forces. From what Framorg could assess, the failure of the Andamoorans was more of a result of robust, spirited Saxan fighting, than it was due to any shortcoming on the part of the northwesterners.

  The Andamooran Emir’s pride had still been stung greatly. At the evening’s meeting, Abu Yaqub Battuta had listened quietly to the deliberations with a terse, angered expression upon his face, of kind that could only have been carved by great tensions inside of him. Framorg could understand the eminent man’s look far better than any spoken words could have attested to.

  With little purpose in vainly trying to pursue more rest, Framorg decided to take his warriors up into the sky a little earlier than the previous day. He harbored a little reticence, though, as they would be slightly exposed in the moments of time when they would be facing directly into the rising sun’s first rays.

  In the cool mists at the edge of morning, Framorg visited for a few private moments with his great Mountain Bear. Barondas was a living embodiment of Framorg’s clan symbol, and the sight of the creature always gave him renewed inspiration. He gazed fondly upon the enormous form of the noble creature, which held a mind-boggling level of strength within its great bulk.

  Framorg reflected that he would have to be like a Mountain Bear, if the second day was to be any different from the first. Strong, bold, and fearless, he would have to rise up, and confront all enemies, no matter their number.

  He spoke a few words to the massive beast, stroking Barondas’s fur affectionately, and giving it a few hunks of fresh meat that he received from a Trogen warrior who had procured it earlier, upon his order. Giving the creature a final pat on its flank, as the great bear finished off one of the ample pieces of meat, Framorg straightened up, and looked into the sky.

  The day’s light had just begun to form a crease on the edge of the eastern horizon, where the dark’s barricades were about to be steadily pushed back by the ascent of the rising sun. The air was peaceful, as Framorg gathered and assembled his main force of Harrak-mounted Trogens.

  The large force of Harraks flew out in orderly fashion with Framorg in the lead, as they streaked towards the frontal regions of the battlefield, passing over the assembling, awakening camp.

  The main formations on the ground were already arraying for battle, settling into the three distinctive contingents, with the central Avanoran reserve set a modest distance behind the lines at the center. From the sky, Framorg could observe the deploying ranks easily enough, from flank to flank.

  Nervous, frantic horn blasts suddenly resounded from the far right of the Trogen formation. Framorg bellowed out a sharp command that brought all of the Trogens to slow their steeds, into a disciplined hover. Framorg spurred Argazen around and darted off down the line of Harraks.

  “The enemy sky steeds! They come!” a Trogen called out to him, pointing emphatically.

  To Framorg’s great amazement, the Trogen was pointing behind them, to the immediate south, off the right side of their airborne flank. True to the sky warrior’s word, there was a throng of incoming enemy warriors visible in the distance, flying low, and rapidly approaching the outer edges of Ehrengard’s encampment. It was a sizeable war band, but nothing remotely threatening to the masses of Ehrengardian fighters comprising the overall right flank of the allies.

  The large force of Trogens in the sky with Framorg reacted quickly. They had just begun to start off to intercept the attack, when something tugged strongly at Framor
g’s mind. He snapped his head around, to gaze back down their lines to the direct north.

  Instinct governed his action, as much as intuition informed it. In the dimness of the onset of dawn, what he was looking for was hard to see, but the enemy was doing exactly what he might have done, if he were in the same position as them.

  Waves of enemy riders saddled upon Himmerosen were skimming just above the treeline, far behind the Trogens’ position to the left, coming in from the north. It was a much larger force than the one that had begun to divert the Trogen force to the south. The second, more numerous force would soon arrive over the open ground among the three main bodies of warriors, Andamooran, Avanoran, and Ehrengardian, and the powerful, concentrated Avanoran reserve positioned at the middle of the three formations.

  “Downward! Do not stop!” Framorg called out with urgency, having full conviction in his rapid judgement.

  He reached across and drew out his longblade as he guided his Harrak into an immediate, diagonal descent, building up a blurring speed that caused Framorg to tuck the longblade close into his body for the time being. He could will his steed to go no faster, and watched helplessly as the enemy sky riders swiftly closed the gap with their intended target.

  Now behind the three frontal formations, the enemy riders banked sharply towards the west, as if they were one body. They hurtled down in the face of the central Avanoran reserve, clearly the planned destination for the large force, and also the reason for the smaller diversionary group.

  Even worse, the sun’s first rays were breaking directly in the faces of the allies. Framorg knew that it was no coincidence. Whoever commanded the enemy forces had timed the attack perfectly, and he could not help but admire the deftness of the strategy, and the precision of the execution.

  The enemy sky riders fell upon the reserve ranks of the Avanorans with a vengeance. The claws and bites of their fierce, well-trained Himmeros steeds added to the mayhem, as the first Saxan fighters to make contact thrust their spears down vigorously into the stunned, blinded Avanorans.