Crown of Vengeance fie-1

by Stephen Zimmer

  The extraordinary creatures walked with a discernable spring to their every step, evidencing a natural supremacy of agility in relation to their nearby human companions.

  The rodent-like creatures, or rat-men, were clad in what looked to be close-fitting, dark tunics that ended just below their midsections, tied above their hips with narrow hide belts. Their clothing was otherwise scanty, as they wore no type of footwear or other significant pieces of attire. A few hints of smaller adornments, largely in the form of snug-fitting neck rings, could be seen amongst them.

  Most of the rat-men carried thin javelins, which they rested in small clusters upon their shoulders as they trotted forward. Others had short quivers affixed to their belts, with strung bows scaled to their more diminutive size that were carried over their shoulders. Simple leather sheaths affixed to their belts held what looked to be lengthy daggers, or perhaps short swords.

  Their high-pitched, chittering voices carried faintly across the air to Logan and the others, as the larger company of rat-men passed by their hiding spot, following in the wake of their cat-handling brethren.

  While the huge cats and the rat-beings were shocking enough in appearance, it was the presence of a third variety of inhuman creature whose emergence brought Logan’s breath to a momentary standstill. He almost had to remind himself to allow air into his lungs, as awed as he was by the newest sight in the column.

  Logan could barely believe his own senses, as a group of monstrosities lumbered up into plain sight from the far end of the column. Though few in number, the gigantic brutes would easily have sufficed to serve as a rear guard all by themselves.

  Like the rat-men, they were also marching a little farther out to the side of the humans. The enormous creatures trod by the men rapidly, taking huge strides up the flank of the main column. Horses whinnied and snorted in agitation, and many of the men cast fearful glances in the direction of the daunting entities.

  The collective presence of the striding juggernauts was awesome to behold, and Logan could not imagine anything that could offer a challenge to such mighty beings. Towering over the tallest of the men, including those mounted upon great steeds, the behemoth creatures moved on powerfully muscled, thick legs that looked to be as stout as tree trunks.

  Easily over nine hundred pounds on average, the massive creatures had a dark, greenish outer hide. They were clad in little more than crudely fashioned, short-sleeved hide tunics that extended down to the tops of their bulky knees. The earthen-hued tunics were slit at the sides up to the waist, having a protective quality in that the hide they were fashioned from was thick, and of a toughened constitution.

  Resting upon bullish necks, their great heads featured elongated snouts, which exhibited thick, short tusks that sprouted prominently up from their lower jaws. Deep-set eyes peered out from underneath pronounced brow ridges. A dense, bristly mane of hair started high on their heads and ran down the back of their necks, giving the creatures a natural crest.

  Brawny, bulging arms gripped oversized, single-bladed war axes, or great iron maces with flanged heads, not one of which could have been wielded by the strongest of humans within the entire column. The thick hafts of the mighty weapons rested upon the beasts’ broad shoulders as they carried them along.

  Logan began to notice that all of the creatures had what looked like great scars running along their upper right arms. He would have attributed the blemishes to the beasts’ coarse appearances, if it were not for the fact that many of the creatures had scars bearing an uncannily close resemblance to those of others within their group. To him, there was little chance that the groups of scars sharing very similar shapes were mere coincidences.

  The largest among the massive beasts strode at the forefront of the awe-inspiring group. It wore a longer-sleeved hide tunic of a decidedly better craftsmanship, further differentiating the beast from its other hulking brethren.

  The exceptional creature glanced back occasionally at the others, glowering, growling angrily, or erupting with a few harsh, unintelligible words.

  By their reactions and postures, it was very clear to Logan that the other brutish creatures readily deferred to the greater one’s authority. There was absolutely no sign of challenge or resistance to their obvious leader.

  Logan had previously noticed that there had been a considerable amount of conversation occurring among the human infantry with the baggage train. Aside from the ordered, more attentive lines of spearmen and crossbowmen to their right, many of the marching men had relaxed expressions and casual postures as they interacted with each other. It was now apparent that most of the humans were greatly discomfited by the close proximity of the huge, bestial warriors.

  The humans grew pensively silent, a hush falling over them as they nervously watched the contingent of gigantic creatures, around a dozen in number, tromp heavily by them. Even the throngs of mounted warriors, including the proud-looking ones of a knightly character, seemed to shy away from the beasts by angling their mounts closer to the main column, or spurring themselves farther ahead.

  Only when the giant brutes had gone well past them did the humans in the main column begin to resume their interactions again; and even that seemed to be done with great hesitancy.

  Packhorses, a great number of lightly clad riders, more throngs of infantry, and a couple more of the mounted contingents with knightly elements followed the baggage train, before the far end of the column came into sight at last.

  Logan set his eyes upon the final contingent, feeling a wave of relief pass over him at the recognition of the column’s end. He was aching to move his limbs and taut muscles, though he was firmly resolved to remain still until the last of the force had traveled well past his group.

  Trotting in formation, and bringing up the rear, the mounted warriors echoed the vanguard in that they had a very cohesive appearance, with a paucity of variation in their attire and equipment.

  Most of the riders were garbed in white surcoats, and the rest in black ones, all of which bore the image of a red, upright spear affixed just over the left breast. They carried lances and swords, similar to those in the leading formation. Their limbs were fully covered in mail, with many having added protection on the thighs and knees.

  Also like those in the forefront of the column, the warriors of the rearguard displayed a distinctive design upon their numerous pennons, banners, and facings of their wide, triangular shields. Roughly the upper quarter of the banners, pennons, and shields was solid black, with the rest of the ensigns being white.

  A slight variant on this arrangement was in evidence, in which the colors were reversed in their position, and equal in proportion to each other. These latter versions contained an additional element, a black spear that was placed atop the white background of the upper half.

  The black and white arrangement on the shields, pennons, and banners was combined with the red on white scheme on the rider’s white surcoats in the trappers covering their elegant mounts. The red spear image graced the neck and hindquarters on a white portion of the trapper that encompassed the horses’ heads, necks, and the upper half of their bodies. The lower half of the equine garb was solid black.

  The faces that Logan could see among the men of the final group were uniformly bearded, and of steely countenance, as they rode tall in their saddles, scanning the forest’s edge continuously with their eyes.

  The rearguard contingent was not overly numerous, soon proceeding by Logan and the others as they left the plains open once again and followed the rest of the great force heading due north. It was still quite some time before there was any hint of movement or discussion among the four observers.

  Logan stared off towards the end of the column as it headed away, gradually growing smaller in the distance. The ground still reverberated underneath, but he could tell that vibrations were beginning to ebb in strength.

  He was still incredulous at what he had just witnessed over the past few hours. It was as if something of an astonishing
nature had been summoned right from the depths of a long-forgotten history, to live and breathe in the world once again. Yet the history that Logan was familiar with did not contain everything that had been present within that huge, marching army.

  “I think that we should head back… right now,” Logan suggested at long last, speaking in little more than a whisper as the rearguard of the column shrank to the cusp of vanishing from sight, far off to the right.

  Logan glanced at his companions, and quickly saw that he had voiced the inner sentiments of the other three with him. He received nods from them in response, with no arguments.

  Peering from the ground level, where he was positioned behind the thick, arching roots of one of the trees, Derek held up a hand for the others to wait. He looked away and remained fixated upon the end of the column until it was no longer in sight. All the while, Logan noticed that Derek’s jaws were clenched in rigid tension, reflecting an intense level of concentration.

  The sight of Derek’s great pensiveness helped to mitigate Logan’s impatience to fully stretch out his muscles and return back to the campsite. He did not doubt that Derek had a good purpose for his continued delay, trusting to the other’s judgment as he was from a military background.

  Derek’s head then slowly swiveled in the direction where the army had come from, staring off resolutely towards the south for several minutes. To Logan, the passing of those few minutes seemed like hours, but he did not disturb Derek’s scrutiny.

  “Keep it very slow, and keep it low,” Derek finally told the others in a subdued, yet adamant tone, his words unmistakably akin to an order. “Back up on the ground, and maintain your low profile. Use your whole body, from your knees to your arms. No matter what, no quick movements. We’re taking no chances.”

  Logan did not blame Derek for the extreme caution, his mind still swimming with images of the massive column and its extraordinary non-human elements. Though the column was now well into the distance, the sounds of its passage and the vibrations had not faded entirely. The lingering sensations were good reminders to not let down his guard.

  Derek kept up his wary vigil while the others began to move backwards. Crawling upon his belly, Logan wiggled methodically farther and farther back away from outer edges of the forest.

  “No quick movements,” Derek repeated again as the others carefully progressed. “And don’t rise up until I tell you to.”

  Derek finally began to move back from the last of the trees, after the others had covered a modest distance. He moved a little more quickly, elbows and knees working in efficient concert, and soon caught up to Logan.

  “Keep it low, and keep going,” Derek reiterated as he slowed down to keep pace with the other three.

  Logan glanced over at Derek, and saw that he was staring hard at each of them to convey the gravity of his meaning. He gave a curt nod of acknowledgement to Derek in response.

  Mershad and Erika were also faithfully doing as Derek wished, working slowly and meticulously towards the relative concealment of the deeper forest shadows. The wooded depths offered the promise of shielding the quartet from the eyes of anything out on the plains, and Logan could not avail himself of that reassuring shroud of tree and brush a moment too soon.

  Logan’s heart continued to beat fast as they crept backwards, his renewing fears causing him to half-imagine that shrill cries of discovery would erupt at any given moment. He blanched thinking about one of the green-hided brutes storming down upon him, swinging one of those great iron maces down upon his vulnerable flesh and bones. One thunderous blow from such a huge weapon, wielded with the kind of force that the lumbering hulks were undoubtedly capable of, would reduce him to pulp in an instant.

  The group did not cease in their crawling until they were well out of sight of the grassy plains. Logan’s elbows were scraped up from the extended, rough contact with the debris-strewn ground. Some small insects had also managed to climb up onto him, which he brushed off vigorously as he felt the tingle of their steps upon his bare arms.

  Derek finally signaled to the others that they could safely rise from the ground level. Quietly, they all got up to their feet, took a moment to stretch, and readied to continue back towards their makeshift camp.

  It felt good just to stand again, though Logan had to contend with a slight wave of disorientation after having endured such an extended period of rigid concentration in a prone position.

  While regaining his equilibrium, Logan was momentarily startled by the sudden flutter of a couple of large ravens. His heart leapt in his chest as the two birds lifted off of a tree branch that he and his companions were crossing under. Seeing the dark birds flying off swiftly into the forest, Logan closed his eyes and breathed out a long sigh of relief. His rattled nerves began to settle back as prepared to resume his forward step, simply glad to see the feathered denizens rather than massive forms bristling with muscles, claws, and sabre-long teeth.

  “We can risk a faster pace,” Derek then told them, also having twirled about in quick reflex at the abrupt commotion caused by the two sizeable ravens. Logan could see hints of relief reflected in the stoic man’s face.

  After taking a couple of moments to regroup and regain their composure, the four picked up their pace behind Derek until they were back in a full run. Logan’s shoes pounded on the forest floor, as he focused his eyes upon Derek’s back at their lead. Ericka was just a few strides behind Derek, with Mershad a short distance in back of Logan. The four covered the remaining ground swiftly.

  When they reached their camp, they skittered to a halt. Mershad almost tripped over his feet in the process and slammed into Logan’s back. Logan caught and steadied the young man, who was breathing heavily, before turning quickly to the sight that had stunned all of them.

  Janus’, Antonio’s, and Kent’s heads snapped about towards the other four with looks of surprise, clearly startled as the four bounded into the camp area. They were gathered around a tall, white-haired old man, clad in a wide-brimmed hat and long, flowing blue robes. The loose-fitting clothing on the old man did not hide the considerable broadness of the stranger’s shoulders, made more apparent by his very erect posture and confident disposition. Interestingly, the old man had remained entirely calm when the others had burst into the camp, showing no reaction whatsoever to their sudden emergence.

  Logan’s first reaction was to look all around the area rapidly, though he quickly discovered that the old man was the only individual outside of his own group within sight. The unexpected encounter disrupted Logan’s lingering tensions for only a moment, as the air and ground still carried hints of the army passing towards the north.

  Adding to the abrupt mystery, Logan noticed that Derek had a look of recognition upon his face as he looked towards the old man. Showing no signs of alarm at the presence of the stranger, Derek strode over towards Janus and came to stand by his friend’s side. Erika and Mershad stood quietly at Logan’s side, watching the others with caution.

  Logan watched the unfolding scene with growing interest and puzzlement, as the words of the old man cut through the air.

  “Forces in thrall to the Unifier pass near to you, though others would say that those are Gallean forces. In truth, they are all of the Unifier, in this darkening age,” the old man stated, his words carrying a distinct tinge of distaste. “You must not tarry in this place much longer, lest you fall into their hands. Go to the east. Others of a different mind will be found there. Ones who can be of help.”

  The old man then turned to face the newcomers who yet kept their distance, stepping slowly towards Erika, Mershad, and Logan. He moved with an easy, effortless step, showing no sign of infirmity or frailty despite his seemingly ancient years.

  Logan found himself staring right into the old man’s lone blue eye, for the other was fully covered by a patch. Logan could not read the expression of the stranger, as the old man’s mouth was nestled within an abundance of white that descended to his upper chest.

  The t
ransfixing gaze appeared to be generating a jeweled sparkle within its cerulean depths, a timeless evocation that belied the apparent age of the stranger’s physical appearance. It was a look brimming with vitality, alertness, and wisdom, and the stranger’s seemingly advanced years were as nothing in context of the ageless look reflected in that single, mesmerizing eye.

  Logan tried to concentrate upon the old man, but found that it was increasingly difficult to gather his thoughts, as if his mental focus was slipping, and swiftly becoming hazy. For no explicable reason, the new development did not frighten Logan in the least. If anything, he felt an absence of danger in the immediate presence of the old man, and even his badly shaken nerves were bolstered by the inexplicable placidity that washed over him.

  “And you three, with your friend over there, have all seen the strength of the Unifier’s forces for yourselves. Your own eyes do not lie. You saw what you saw, a river of power that is nothing compared to the vast seas of power beyond it,” the old man stated firmly, his voice deep and resonant.

  “The Unifier?” Derek responded from next to Janus, “Who is the Unifier? And where is that army going?”

  “Some would say those forces herald the genesis of a new order, brought forth out of the lands of Avanor, a land far to the west from where you now stand. The truly wise would see something from a much older order, one more ancient than the world itself,” the blue-robed man explained somberly. “The Unifier… A leader cloaked in fair countenance, attractive and charming to all who behold Him, but wielding a terrible, dominating force that comes from the very depths of the Abyssal Realms themselves.”

  The old man paused, and his countenance darkened, as if contemplating a particularly troubling thought. When he continued again, his voice was lower, and his tone deeply solemn.

  “And the true wisdom is this; the Unifier is just a steward. He is a steward of another far more powerful Entity… though very few in this world, in lands under His influence, would be willing to say so openly. And still others are foolish enough to embrace Him knowingly, even aware that He is a steward, and conscious of the One that He is a steward for. Such are the ones who are most steeped in madness within this troubled world.”