Dream of Legends

by Stephen Zimmer

  The overall realization of the Saxan contingent’s condition was like a cold sword cleaving deep into his soul. Less than three hundred men remained out of an initial force of a few thousand.

  As the force had been assembled from the immediate region, including much of Wassachia and the Wesvald, it was certain that every survivor with Aethelstan had suffered a great personal loss in the battle; whether a friend, a brother, a father, or some other manner of kin. There would not be one soul in the midst of the terrible ordeal that did not mourn the loss of someone close to heart. In such a cold, harsh light, Aethelstan knew that every single man in the underground haven was deeply wounded, whether in spirit, physically, or both.

  Even worse, with the urgency of the situation, there had been no time for burials. Every Saxan was well-aware that their comrades had been left to decay, and the bellies of scavengers out on the surface. It was one matter that Aethelstan wished he could broach with the Unguhur, but he did not yet know what their own practices were, involving their dead.

  He had seen nothing in the way of tombs during his short tenure in Oranim, or any sign that the Unguhur committed the bodies of the dead to fire. He had not been able to query the Woodsman regarding the Unguhur’s ways, as he was the only human that might know the answer. Compounding the issue was the fact that Aethelstan was not yet comfortable interacting directly with the Unguhur, and did not want to inadvertently cause offense to his hosts, so soon after arriving in their realm.

  Abandoning the bodies of the brave Saxans wrenched Aethelstan’s gut, at a very intimate level. He did not want to open the gates to his own personal losses. So many that he considered trusted friends and comrades had fallen, and many of the slain were related to him in blood. He had to stifle the flood of emotions that threatened to break out inside him. A time for mourning and remembrance would come later. He had to keep his composure and focus for the sake of the men that yet survived.

  One thought superseded all others. He had to get as many of the remaining Saxans as possible back to the embraces of their loved ones. It was the same goal that he held from the first moments that the horns had called out the signal to begin the long march out from the gates of Bergton, the last morning that he had set his eyes upon his own wife and children.

  The way would be far from easy, even if the Unguhur had destroyed the enemy encampment, and broken the force that had been sent against the shield wall. The thrust of the enemy had been blunted for the time being, but there was little denying that the enemy’s living spearhead would soon be re-forged. The Saxans that were left in the region, led by Aethelstan, could not hope to stop another large enemy force.

  The Unguhur were admittedly very formidable beings, and had managed to turn the tide of a disastrous fate, but the Avanorans would adjust to their presence in due time. Aethelstan did not want to be around when the enemy enacted a solution to the problem of dislodging the Unguhur. He and the remaining Saxans would be like dry grass before a brush fire when the enemy’s designs were unfurled.

  His raw instincts told him that the Avanoran solution would be simultaneously brutal, overwhelming, and immensely effective. Such was the well-attested nature of Avanor and the Unifier, when it came to the ways of war.

  “Aethelstan?” queried a familiar voice, from a few paces behind him.

  “Yes, Edmund?” Aethelstan responded, without turning his head. He heard the scuffling of Edmund’s shoes against the stone as his friend walked up to his side.

  “I came to see if everything is well with you,” Edmund replied. The sky warrior had steadfastly been at Aethelstan’s beck and call, ever since the great thane had been rescued from the battle.

  “Physically yes … mentally, and spiritually, no,” Aethelstan responded heavily.

  “What have you decided to do?” Edmund asked. “I know that you do not want to tarry here overlong.”

  “I do not know yet,” Aethelstan confessed. “There are many who cannot yet leave this place, due to their wounds. We cannot leave them behind with the Unguhur, because this is going to be a dangerous place to be, very soon. You know that, and I know that. That was decided when the Unguhur Realm intervened in the Unifier’s affairs.”

  “Yes, I do know that, and I think most of the men do as well,” Edmund replied evenly.

  “What do you think?” Aethelstan said, turning his head to eye Edmund. His friend had a pensive look on his face. “What course of action should we be considering?”

  “I have no easy answers,” Edmund said. “It is a dark day for everyone, everywhere, I am afraid. Down here in the lower world, under the skies in Saxany, or wherever someone in Ave is trying to be free.”

  “I fear you are right,” Aethelstan said, shaking his head regretfully. “We can only seek to make the best decision that is available to us, Edmund.”

  “And there are precious few choices left to us now,” Edmund responded.

  Aethelstan dropped his gaze, and clasped his hands firmly together. Though he was looking in the direction of the glimmering lake surface, he focused his gaze on nothing, as his mind was enveloped with concerns. He wondered whether the main force of the Unifier was still being held at bay, back out on the Plains of Athelney, or whether they had broken through to begin an orgy of destruction throughout the Saxan lands.

  Frustration welled up swiftly, as there was no way of discerning which one of the developments presided at the moment. He only knew that he could do little if the enemy had broken through the great shield wall. Three hundred drained, battered warriors could not make a difference against thousands upon thousands of enemy troops, who enjoyed a constant stream of supply and reinforcement.

  Even if the shield wall still held, little comfort could be gained. There was always the possibility of another large force being sent to maneuver through the forests to the northeast of the Plains of Athelney, to outflank the main Saxan army. There would be no stout Saxan shield wall to try to stop such a force in the future. The only one that could have been arrayed was now irrevocably broken, the remnants of which had been salvaged by the Unguhur and a lone, reclusive woodsman.

  “What do you know of the Unguhur’s willingness to cooperate? They have the strength to hold the channel leading up from that strange forest of theirs, if a mind like yours is lent to them for the sake of strategy,” Edmund suggested. “It is my observation that their khan and khanum, Treas and Vuriant, are receptive to us, and they are certainly hostile towards the Unifier. Perhaps we can make an arrangement with them, to make use of your knowledge of Avanor’s methods. They might even be persuaded to come to the aid of the main army.”

  Aethelstan did not feel entirely hopeful about the prospects of being placed in tacit command of another kingdom’s warriors, especially ones that were not human to begin with. Even further, he held little enthusiasm towards the idea, as his heart was burdened enough by the costs of leading his own kind.

  As reluctant as he had been to approach the Unguhur about their beliefs and burial practices, there was also the worry that the Unguhur would find the proposition arrogant and presumptuous, if not entirely ridiculous. From their perspective, the Saxans had just been crushed in battle with the Avanorans, and it had been the Unguhur who had emerged victorious in combat with the invaders. They would probably feel that it was the Saxans who needed the Unguhur to guide them.

  “Perhaps, Edmund, but it is a far thing to grasp for. We may very well transgress the goodwill of our hosts, even if unintentionally. But what else is left to us?”

  “We have to leave here, and I think it would be best to retreat to a higher terrain, perhaps the lands to the north and east,” Edmund said.

  The sky warrior’s reply struck a note of harmony inside Aethelstan, as the suggestion was the option that he had been considering the most. The area that Edmund spoke of ran along the northeastern borderlands of Saxany for a considerable distance. It consisted primarily of a broad mountain range, populated with rises that ranged from modest to immense in si
ze.

  The mountains were covered with stout trees, thick shrubbery, and dense brush, the latter two elements being significant impediments to the passage of large numbers on foot. Within the high ground, using the sporadic, narrow mountain passes that funneled any marching force into choke points, the Saxans under Aethelstan could easily maintain a defense against an enemy horde many times larger.

  “If the enemy is not already trying to navigate that route,” Aethelstan said, after an extended pause.

  “No, it is not practical to conduct an invasion there, and our scouts are constantly watching over that region for any sign of a threat. If an enemy force tried to move through there, they would likely be cut to pieces, even by a hastily gathered defense,” Edmund returned. “At the very least, any force moving towards there would have been detected early, and word of their movements would have reached us here quite a while ago.”

  “And what of the Unguhur?” Aethelstan queried. “What is your counsel regarding them?”

  “We can tell them where we are going, and why we have no other choice. It is their own choice as to whether they would accompany us or not,” Edmund said. “You can do no more than share what you know.”

  “I will think on this matter for a time,” Aethelstan said. “I do not wish to bring our new allies an ill-fate.”

  “An ill-fate would have befallen them later, if they had not chosen to come to our aid,” Edmund said. “The Unifier does not long suffer those who do not bend their knee to Him, in one form or another.”

  Aethelstan quietly listened to Edmund’s wisdom. The sky warrior was correct in his assessment, but it did not negate the fact that the Unguhur had accelerated the Unifier’s direct attention by helping the Saxans. The Unguhur had to be warned about the imminence of the peril that was likely coalescing right at that moment to strike at them.

  Already, he had begun to think of the issues that would be raised among the Unguhur. Their kingdom and its subterranean environs served as the only places that they had known for untold generations. The surface world was something very foreign to the underground-dwelling race, in the same way that their world was alien to the Saxans. Additionally, all of their kingdom’s natural advantages and routes were well-known to the Unguhur, and unfamiliar to any surface enemy, giving them a considerable advantage within any pending combat that took place in their demesne.

  But they were not familiar with the ways of the Unifier. If anything, they were probably naïve about the Unifier, and had no appreciation for the immense power wielded out of Avanor. Aethelstan was not sure that they would blindly trust him, when he informed them of the Unfier’s renowned ability to adapt to any presented obstacle; and come forth with an overwhelming solution. It was that widespread reputation that had made the Saxan decision to stand and fight so bold in the eyes of a few, and so foolish in the eyes of a great many.

  The Avanorans were lords of war. In that sense, the Unifier was effectively a god of war, holding the martial reins of the Avanorans, and now many others, in His hands.

  When pondering the notion of a journey by the Unguhur to the northeastern mountains, there were also logistics to consider. Access to the ocean waters, and the streams located within the hills, coupled with the small game inhabiting the area, would produce enough food to sustain a larger group of humans.

  The enormous Unguhur, with their stature and numbers, were another matter entirely. The vast mushroom forests and underground streams, teeming with fish and other quarry, were certainly adequate for their needs. The Unguhur would find the higher lands to be otherwise. Sparse and challenging in the longer term, the mountainous territory would be unable to sustain any significant numbers of the large creatures.

  Aethelstan did not see much hope when it came to pleading with the Unguhur, to get them to avoid the doom that would inevitably fall upon their realm, but he knew that he would have to try. Despite the improbability of convincing them of the mounting danger, and the strong possibility of angering them unwittingly, he resolved himself to make an effort. He had to give the brave souls that had saved him and his men the best explanation of the situation that he could, and pray fervently that they would listen to his words, give them credence, and then heed them.

  “Go to their khan and khanum, and petition them for an audience, as soon as possible,” Aethelstan stated. “I must endeavor to open their eyes. I can do no less than that for those who have helped us so unconditionally.”

  Edmund nodded. “At once, Aethelstan.”

  Turning, his friend headed off with brisk strides towards the heart of the great Unguhur city of Oranim. Athelstan quietly watched his friend depart. Even though a decision had been rendered, regarding a course of action for the Saxan survivors, his hopes were lifted no higher.

  The things weighing heavily on his heart were waiting patiently, and mercilessly, to beset him upon his return to solitude. It was as if a deep shadow fell across him, as he turned his eyes back towards the view of the expansive lake, as the vanguard of his mounting sorrows and fears reached their claws out towards him.

  *

  WULFSTAN

  *

  Wulfstan’s eyelids fluttered, and he awoke slowly to the feeling of soft, silken breezes caressing his face. His eyes were filled with the purest white that he had ever seen.

  A mystical ambiance surrounded him. He wondered whether he had expired in his mortality, and had entered into the heavenly realms of the All-Father. The atmosphere evoked all of the types of legendary images concerning the celestial realms of Palladium, including the accounts described by everyone from the simplest of village priests to the most erudite of monks, the latter of the kind that Wulfstan’s uncle had oft interacted and traded with.

  The thought of being alive in the bosom of the afterworld was instantly sobering. It brought Wulfstan to a state of full alertness, as he lifted his back off the ground, and subsequently pulled his knees up so that he was in a more comfortable sitting position.

  At that moment, he heard the quork of a startled raven, turning just in time to witness its black form flying off with haste. He stared after the raven, as the dark bird sped low across a scene that was as fascinating as it seemed to transcend reality.

  Delicate vapors wafted over a broad terrain composed of the cushioning, white substance that he was currently sitting upon. Hills and valleys of the white material could be seen stretching to the horizon, as well as a randomly strewn variety of other strange shapes and formations.

  To Wulfstan’s eyes, the sight resembled the winter wonderlands that he had known several times in his own life, when the skies draped the hills and fields of Wessachia in thick blankets of snow. Yet the impossibility of that notion, and a dawning realization, threatened to make his mind spin.

  Wulfstan had a little idea as to what the environment around him was not; and he had more than an inkling as to what it was.

  He knew that he could not be on a simple cloud, of the types that he had traversed on the back of the winged steed. He remembered quite well how he and the Himmeros had flown through them without incident during his desperate ascent.

  No matter what its appearance looked like when gazing down from above, no cloud could support the weight of a man or beast. The clouds felt like the mists and fogs that shrouded the woods on the ground, and posed no obstructions whatsoever to his passage in flight. Wulfstan knew with certainty that he could not sit on one.

  As he scanned the area, looking to the left and right, his gaze fell upon the form of his Himmeros, lying nearby. Spirit Wing’s body was heaving, smoothly and steadily, with each relaxed breath. The creature was curled up, fast asleep, with its wings tucked snugly into its sides.

  The sight bestowed a feeling of relief over the smattering of guilt that lay deeper within Wulfstan. He knew that he had pressed the poor animal harshly, beyond all its known limits of endurance. While the larger part of him did not regret the action, as it was undertaken to help Saxany avert a terrible doom, he was nonetheless
gladdened by the knowledge that the Himmeros was unharmed.

  It was then that he emerged fully from the initial shock of his strange surroundings. He brought more focus upon the reason that he had set off on the risky, and likely foolhardy, flight in the first place.

  The footing underneath the leather soles of his shoes was extremely unusual, like nothing that he had ever felt before. It had a little give and bounce, as he lifted his knees slightly and set his feet back down, feeling the odd sensations derived from pressing against the unfamiliar surface.

  Carefully, he got to his feet. He turned around in place, to take a look behind him. The white terrain in that direction held no rises, and it did not spread to the horizon. Rather abruptly, the low span of white came to an end about fifty paces from where he now stood.

  Slowly, Wulfstan walked over towards the edge. When reaching it, as if on the brink of a cliff’s boundary, he got down to his belly, crawling the last few paces so that he could peer over the edge without feeling wholly insecure. Despite the reassurance from having his body supported, his stomach churned as he gazed downward.

  There were stratified layers of clouds scudding by far below, designating a mind-boggling distance that culminated in solid ground. Nothing about the land was distinct from the lofty heights, and Wulfstan wasted no time trying to identify any specific places. It was like looking down upon a vast cloak fashioned with greenish hues. The movements of the clouds, themselves imbued with misty, shifting qualities, gave evidence that they were what they appeared to be, entirely unlike the surreal substance that Wulfstan now rested his weight upon.

  As he looked down at one group of randomly sprinkled clusters, he realized that he was gazing upon the second level of clouds that he had passed through during his long climb upward. It was then that he wondered whether his whimsical, desperate idea, born of dreams, and adhered to with a fanatical effort, had somehow come true.