Crown of Vengeance fie-1

by Stephen Zimmer

  The Onan warriors’ rapid flight carried them far over and beyond the Darrok. Ayenwatha abruptly gripped the reins of his steed, and brought it sharply upwards. The loose formation of Bregas followed him, emulating his movements as he curled about in a wide arc for an attack upon the next Darrok.

  The Darrok that they left behind seemed to recognize the damage done to the crew on its back, and loosed a spiteful, blistering breath of fire after them. The creature was far too slow, and its outburst well too short to be of any danger to Ayenwatha’s warriors.

  Steadying their steeds in Ayenwatha’s wake, the tribal formation leveled itself out as it began to gain speed. At Ayenwatha’s lead, the warriors swiftly notched more arrows for a pass at one of the remaining Darroks. The one that Ayenwatha had selected lumbered through the air just a few hundred feet away, a full crew upon its back.

  The Trogen warriors on the Darrok were much more prepared for the defenders’ approach. There was deadly exchange of arrow fire as the two groups closed within killing range of each other. Ayenwatha and the tribal warriors let loose their barrage, almost at the exact time that the Trogens let fly with their own.

  The arrows of the tribal warriors raked the exposed surface of the timber carriage. Once again, the arrows of the warriors of the Five Realms found several targets, but the enemy missiles claimed their own number of victims among the sky riders and their steeds.

  With wretched cries and shrieks, a few stricken Bregas plummeted down towards the ground, hundreds of feet below, carrying their ill-fated riders towards certain, gruesome deaths.

  A couple of other warriors toppled over, slouching lifeless in the saddles or falling off. Riderless Bregas, left to their own discretion, flew away from the conflict, without any direction or authority to guide them.

  Ayenwatha’s warriors had still reduced the number of fighters on the second Darrok by about a third, but had suffered their first blows, losing several of their own warriors. They had also suffered another casualty in that the advantage of surprise no longer belonged to them.

  The main formation of Bregas with Ayenwatha continued on past the Darrok, and started to turn again in a wide arc so that they could circle back and make another pass. Ayenwatha knew that the Trogens would be braced again for them, but they had to carry the battle relentlessly to the enemy while the villagers on the ground struggled to escape the vicinity of the imperiled village.

  As with the first Darrok that they had attacked, Ayenwatha noticed that no stones were falling. The Trogen crew was strictly readying for defense against the tribal warriors.

  While he was relieved that they had severely impeded the assault, he also knew what it meant for his small band of warriors. There was little mistaking the situation facing them. With less than thirty warriors remaining, they would not be able to sustain many more passes. A battle of attrition would not be in their favor.

  He kept his mind calm, as he thought rapidly of other courses of action. His mind raced through various possibilities as the formation completed its curve and came about to begin another sweep towards the Darrok.

  He eyed the harnessing required to secure the high-sided, wooden platform for the occupants on the back of the Darroks. The Trogens were not tethered by any manner of ties or restraint to the platform itself.

  If those manning the Darroks were cast overboard from their airborne vessel, there would be no possible rescue for them. Hundreds of feet of empty air and solid ground would seal their fates well enough.

  “Stay clear. Shoot arrows at the beast ahead,” Ayenwatha cried out to the nearest of his warriors, gesturing forcefully as he spoke. “Keep your steeds to this side. Sky Arrow… follow me! Keep close!”

  The warrior to his right nodded in understanding, and gripped the reins of his steed tightly as he watched for Ayenwatha to take the lead. Ayenwatha then guided Arax off sharply, heading downward to the left. With great skill, he guided the steed tightly as they looped back up towards the Darrok, coming about to fly directly underneath the immense creature.

  His years of experience and relationship with Arax enabled the difficult maneuver with a smooth grace of form. Sky Arrow followed skillfully enough, keeping his steed close to the war sachem, as he also made it safely to the underbelly of the Darrok.

  The Trogens scrambled frantically to fire more arrows at them as they executed the difficult maneuver. Ayenwatha heard the whizzing sound of an arrow as it passed within just a foot of his right ear. He kept his mind steeled, even as his heart skipped a beat in his chest.

  Once underneath the creature, Ayenwatha and Sky Arrow were effectively sheltered from attack by the Trogen archers. Silently uttering a brief prayer of thanks to the One Spirit for the incredibly good fortune, Ayenwatha guided Arax down to the middle of the creature’s body. He brought Arax to match the speed of the large beast over them, as Ayenwatha looked upward to study the harnessing. His eyes followed the course of the great leather straps and cords that cross-crossed the creature’s body, soon identifying the more crucial concentrations and bindings.

  “Sky Arrow, use your axe. Hack the ropes! The ones coming together at the center!” Ayenwatha yelled, making a chopping motion as he pointed out the network of strapping above.

  He guided his Brega up closer, while withdrawing his short-hafted war axe from where it was tucked in his belt. Keeping his steed level was difficult enough, as the Darrok bobbed in the movements of its own flight, but he knew that there was a chance to get within close enough range to make his attempt.

  It was not difficult for Arax to match the speed of the Darrok. The Brega was able to coast in a smooth glide for several moments, before beginning to lose speed and needing to spur itself forward again. As the stretches of gliding provided the most steadiness, Ayenwatha patiently awaited the beginning of one such span in order to attempt his idea. The Brega went through a couple more cycles, passing close to the desired target as Ayenwatha carefully gauged his range and aim.

  After one such cycle, Arax flapped its wings strongly, and then evened out its flight into a glide that carried it right along the central underbelly of the Darrok. Ayenwatha saw his opportunity, as he came within striking range and was conveyed right along what he believed to be a critical juncture in the harness system of the Darrok.

  Leaning back, he hacked powerfully at the thick cords and intertwined ropes that passed through one large, iron ring. Several more vigorous, steady blows began the arduous and dangerous task.

  Sky Arrow, understanding Ayenwatha’s intent, set to work on another concentration of cording set a short distance behind.

  The axes quickly cleaved through the taut cords and ropes. The work was disrupted somewhat as the bulk of the Darrok rocked up and down in flight, a few times coming precariously close to smacking into the Bregas and their riders.

  Despite several pauses to regain position, and to duck some near impacts with the Darroks themselves, the two warriors were able to keep close and levy a number of solid, successful strikes upon the harness system.

  The two warriors took great caution not to strike the Darrok directly, for the beast could easily send Arax and Sky Arrow’s steed spinning out of control with an intentional drop in altitude. Ayenwatha was not certain that the beast was incapable of maneuvering its massive, clawed legs to scrape at its underbelly. He could only hope that the creatures were not trained for sudden drops.

  Progress continued, but at an uncomfortably slow pace. Ayenwatha nudged Arax whenever they started to fall back a little, and subtly reined the steed in when they were in danger of flying past his target area. Over time, the effort built into a somewhat steady rhythm.

  It was a painstaking process for both Sky Arrow and for Ayenwatha, but they continued forward resolutely, maintaining their full focus. At long last, most of the thick, tight straps around the ring that Ayenwatha worked upon had been severed at their underside crossroads. A few robust strikes later, the last few snapped apart with a jolt, as their great tension was suddenly
released.

  The Darrok must have felt the effect, for the creature suddenly reached one of its deadly, enormous claws back towards Ayenwatha. The huge appendage moved straight towards Ayenwatha and the Brega, as if it was swatting at a mere insect.

  In consistency with the creature’s lumbering movement, the mammoth claw approached slowly enough for Ayenwatha to react. Arax needed little prodding, having noticed the threatening movement as well, and the two of them banked downward in a near freefall.

  The danger of the Darrok’s claw swipe was quickly past, but the distance that they had covered in the freefall had brought them within sight of the maddened Trogens on the Darrok’s back. The Trogens had also felt the jolt of the harness straps being cut. They knew their tremendous vulnerability, and fear clearly dwelled amongst them. Ayenwatha could hear it within their frantic shouts to each other, watching them clutch at the side rails as they tried to look over the sides.

  When Ayenwatha was on the underside of the Darrok, they were impotent. Now that he was in plain view, they moved with alacrity.

  A barrage of arrows was loosed towards Ayenwatha and the Brega, most going awry amid the Trogens’ hurried, frenzied rush to fire. A searing pain erupted suddenly in the back of his shoulder as one arrow lodged itself into muscle and struck bone.

  Arax roared and jerked suddenly. Ayenwatha’s heart leaped in that perilous moment, as his life wholly depended on his steed’s ability to maintain flight. He had no way of telling where the arrow had struck his steed, and prayed desperately that it was not a fatal hit. He looked around wildly, before finally espying the arrow shaft sticking out of Arax’s rear haunch.

  Though unsteady, the creature was well-trained and had a natural instinct for self-preservation. It regained control, securing a steady pattern of flight despite the fiery pain that undoubtedly raced through it.

  The Trogens above were distracted from their attentions on him, as another outcry rose amongst them. Many fell over as another massive jolt occurred along the platform. Ayenwatha saw that Sky Arrow had succeeded at his end, and was just about to dive away from the Darrok.

  Sky Arrow did not have the good fortune of Ayenwatha.

  Ayenwatha cried out in helpless frustration as the huge claw of the Darrok swiped and batted Sky Arrow and his steed with full impact, casting them far away from the beast. Their shattered bodies tumbled lifelessly downward.

  Ayenwatha cried out in anger, as he watched his friend’s body plummet towards the land below. Bitterly, with tears welling in his eyes, he guided Arax towards safety. The Brega was injured and unfit for any more fighting that night, no matter what Ayenwatha might have been willing to do.

  He threw a quick glance over his right shoulder, wincing at the biting pain that throbbed within his left. The Darrok was unmistakably altering its course of flight. The Trogens were well aware of their own peril, and likely they were heading away to find some emergency expanse of ground where the Trogens could attend to the repair of the harnessing.

  Each moment carried the Trogens within a delicate, precarious position. A little imbalance and the Trogens’ fate would be a long plunge through the sky. It was clear that they were not interested in such a foolhardy risk, and had chosen to fight another day.

  Ayenwatha closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and uttering two silent prayers. From the wellspring of his gleaming eyes, a couple of tears streaked down his cheeks. He was not ashamed, as the tears were born of loyalty and friendship.

  The first prayer was one of thanksgiving for the plan having worked to disrupt the Darrok’s attack. The other was for Sky Arrow and his spirit, that he would find his way to the realm of He Who Holds the Sky, the great One Spirit, a place of radiant skies and bounteous hunting.

  He had led Sky Arrow forth, bringing the young warrior with him in the counterattack on the Darroks. In the thick of the battle, he had selected the Onan warrior for the dangerous strike at the Darrok’s harnessing. Never was there a greater weight of burden than when his leadership had directly resulted in the death of another. Ayenwatha hoped that Sky Arrow was even now being embraced by their ancestors, and that he was being welcomed into bountiful forests whose illumination required no sun.

  “Till the day we hunt again,” Ayenwatha whispered, glancing towards the stars above.

  Wiping his eyes, he looked around for the other Darroks, to see what had befallen the defenders and the attackers. There were three others moving away in a tight formation, following the Darrok that had suffered the heavy damage to its carriage harness.

  Ayenwatha made the best appraisal that he could. The Trogens had taken many losses, had witnessed the vulnerabilities exploited by Ayenwatha and Sky Arrow, and were clearly not in a position to sustain the attack. Ayenwatha felt an instant sense of relief despite his personal sadness, knowing that the assault upon the village was over for the time being.

  With a throbbing pain in his shoulder, and now feeling the warm blood trickling down his back, he guided his wounded sky steed back towards the village. It was distressing to take in the sight of all the wreckage as he flew in, but there were no good places to land in the immediate areas surrounding the village’s hill. Numbly, he eyed the scattered flames that still licked at the night, guiding Arax towards a patch of open ground. Shortly after Arax had alighted upon the ground, several other surviving warriors set down within the remains of the village, the fighting now over.

  On foot, Ayenwatha guided Arax and the others through the village. He ignored the arrow protruding from his body, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead, not wanting to look towards the broken bodies and shattered remains of the buildings riddling the village grounds. The fires still burning in different sections of the village were not a threat. They were already beginning to die down, having expended their fury as timber was turned to ash.

  Once out of the front gate, they carefully started down the slope. Arax exhibited a slight limp, and the hardy sky steed whined with the biting pain that it felt from its wound, aggravated further while walking on the ground and supporting its body weight with its legs. Ayenwatha paused a couple of times and spoke soothingly to the beleaguered creature, the arrow shaft still embedded in its blood-matted haunches.

  Nearing the base of the hill, a number of villagers came out from the trees and hastened towards the warriors. Their eyes were laden with sorrow and fear, the burden growing even heavier as they noticed the absence of many warriors who had not returned.

  Villagers trained in healing arts, including those of the Healing Societies, were immediately summoned to help injured warriors and steeds alike. They guided those who had suffered significant wounds to open spaces amid the trees. Ayenwatha and Arax were helped over to a space in between the prominent roots of an ancient oak tree.

  In moments, the arrows in Ayenwatha and Arax were taken out. Ayenwatha was dizzy with the intense flash of pain that he incurred, but he kept his body under control. His steed thrashed madly about, knocking over a couple of villagers that were laboring to restrain the beast. At a few soothing words from Ayenwatha, spoken through gritted teeth, Arax calmed down enough to be led away to where the rest of the sky steeds were being tended. The wounds were then dressed in a makeshift manner, as there was little access to either material or sacred healing herbs.

  Litters were hastily fashioned for a couple of the warriors that were very badly injured. The two warriors would likely require the full rituals of the masked Healers, those of the Healing Societies who wore the sacred masks carved from living trees. Ayenwatha and the others were soon relieved to learn that most of the sacred masks in the village had been salvaged, and that most of the members of the Healing Society had survived.

  Ayenwatha lay to one side, his wounded shoulder kept off of the ground. He quietly endured the moans of the injured warriors close by, wishing that he could not hear the sounds that brought him more pain than his physical wound.

  It had been all that he could bear to suffer the horrid shriek emitted by Arax,
when the beloved steed’s arrow had been pulled out. His ears now conveyed without mercy the incessant sounds of crying and lament pouring from his fellow villagers. His heart grew heavy, along with a deadening fatigue that slowly enveloped his body. It took all of his concentration just to confer with the warriors that began to visit him, or to bring him new information.

  The word of the extent of the attack and subsequent battle in the sky slowly reached his ears, as he finally rolled over to lie upon his stomach.

  Of over thirty courageous riders that had gone into the skies to the defense of the village, only eleven had returned. A couple of riderless Bregas had found their own way back, though the rest of the missing steeds were presumed dead or strayed. The Darroks had indeed been diverted and stymied, but it had been a very costly defense.

  The village had taken incredible damage, with nearly every structure absorbing an irreparable amount of destruction. Longhouses had been smashed into so many bits of wood, far past any hope of repair.

  The number of killed and wounded villagers, most stemming from the initial onslaught of the unexpected attack, was extensive. Not a single survivor had escaped the devastation without having lost a member of their family, a friend, or a child.

  As the various dire tidings continued to stream in, Ayenwatha tried to make some sense of the dreary situation. His understanding of it brought to bear a sobering notion.

  With the first shadow of the Darroks falling upon the village, and the first large stone to crash into the village’s midst, the people of the Five Realms found themselves in a full state of war with the Unifier. Ayenwatha could not deny that his first thoughts were melancholy, if not devoid of hope. He could not see how the tribes could defend their realm against a power that commanded such hellishly fearsome weapons of war.