Dream of Legends fie-2

by Stephen Zimmer

He had spoken truly to the sachem. Nobody could be spared, even if Ayenwatha understood that arming the refugees would ultimately prove futile, if even a modest force of trained enemy warriors descended upon them. It would be like Firakens among deer, and the result would inevitably be a tremendous slaughter.

  The older man nodded with a grim expression, and Ayenwatha did not doubt that he understood the implications as well. Ayenwatha glanced around, and noticed that a pulsating energy was already rippling through the camp as the word carried by the warriors was disseminated rapidly. Agitated voices could be heard everywhere, some calling out with great urgency. People were working to collapse the makeshift tents and shelters, gathering together whatever belongings they could carry.

  “I must return to my brothers at the front lines of the fighting. We will bleed for every moment that can be gained to give you. I hope to see all of you at the cliffs,” Ayenwatha stated, lowering his eyes and head towards the four sachems.

  “May the One Spirit protect you,” Kanokareh replied in a low voice.

  Tightening the reins, and tensing his thighs, he turned the Brega, and guided it away from the four sachems as he made his way back through the camp. He did not allow Horizon to accelerate beyond a trot, as the creature had been given such a short respite following the frenzied dash from the front lines. Ayenwatha desired to spare the noble creature a little exertion, by pursuing a more contained pace along the return path.

  Yet once they had cleared the boundaries of the camp, the creature sprang forward lithely, as if it had not exerted itself at all that day. The return trip seemed to be much quicker than the initial journey, though Ayenwatha knew that they could not possibly have traveled faster.

  The only plausible explanation was that he was now unburdened of his charges from Deganawida. He was relieved by the fact that he had accomplished the task of warning the masses of refugees, and had gained their acquiescence to Deganawida’s counsel. Each passing moment no longer felt like an eternity, even if his heart was still heavy.

  The band of tribal warriors guarding the small group of Brega appeared visibly relieved at his swift reappearance, perhaps knowing the connotation. Dismounting, he patted Horizon on the neck, taking a moment to savor the exquisite steed, before turning to look for Red Skies.

  He did not have far to look. Red Skies’s stoic face had taken on a little anxiety since Ayenwatha had departed. The relief in the man at the sight of his returned steed was obvious, another testament to the deep bond between rider and steed.

  Red Skies approached Ayenwatha, and the war sachem handed the reins over to the tall warrior.

  “Red Skies, I can find no words to say how special this Brega is,” Ayenwatha said approvingly.

  The corners of the warrior’s lips turned up into a slight grin. “I thought that you would be satisfied with Horizon.”

  Ayenwatha smiled, and patted Horizon on the back.

  “May we fly together soon, during a day of peace,” Ayenwatha said to Red Skies, before giving Horizon a couple of last strokes on its neck, and turning away.

  The warriors parted, as Ayenwatha moved through them.

  “Be on alert! All of you! The fighting is not far from here!” Ayenwatha urged all within hearing, calling out over his shoulder, as he strode up the slope of the hill.

  He continued around the hillside, carefully working his way back towards the area that had suffered the hail of arrows and bolts. The line of Midragardans was still in place, spanning the two rises. The ground before them was littered with bodies, both of enemies and allies. The air was eerily still, save for the faint sounds of battle drifting along the air currents from afar.

  Ayenwatha paused for a moment, looking past the Midragardans, but could see nothing among the trees before them. The enemy had withdrawn, and he hoped that it proved that their supply of arrows and bolts was not inexhaustible. Again, he closed his eyes and offered up another silent prayer, one that contained thanksgiving and a plea for favor.

  Though expecting a less-threatening return passage, he nonetheless girded his courage and ran forward, zigzagging amongst the trees as an added precaution. He crossed through the area without incident, as not even one enemy missile disturbed the stillness surrounding him. Were it not for the ubiquitous bolts and arrows sticking out of the ground and trees, one would have been hard-pressed to believe that the area had recently been part of the feverish woodland struggle.

  The sounds of combat ahead grew as he continued at a loping jog, past the second rise. Farther beyond were flurries of movement, as the ebb and flow of invaders and defenders alike came into view, filling up his vision.

  Raising his war club in one hand, and spear in the other, Ayenwatha charged forth, running towards the deadly chaos. The proud Five Realms warrior hastened to the fight, and the cause of his people.

  A fire blazed within him as he eyed the enemy. Like Gunnar, his despair transformed into a tempestuous battle rage, as he determined not to let a single enemy warrior get by them that day. Every moment possible had to be purchased for the refugees, and like any other tribal warrior, Ayenwatha was more than willing to pay for it with his own blood.

  *

  GUNTHER

  *

  The search dragged onward, several hours passing without avail. The trails picked up at the entrance to the cave had been lost in the bed of a stream, dashing Gunther’s hopes for an immediate discovery of the two wayward outlanders. It was still daylight, and, judging by the sun’s position, a reasonable portion of the day yet remained, a boon for which Gunther was highly grateful.

  The two outlanders were not skilled in wilderness craft. Even if they shared Gunther’s skills, the region of the forest that they had ventured into carried a variety of potent dangers. As it was, at best, they were bumbling about in wild, perilous territory, with a number of denizens that represented lethal threats.

  Just as his rising frustrations began to sink their tendrils even deeper into his psyche, one of the male Jaghuns started to bark excitedly. It was circling a small patch of ground, within the midst of a grassy clearing.

  Gunther jogged over to where the Jaghun was trotting with its nose at ground level. “What is it, Fang?”

  Lowering himself down to one knee, he leaned over, and examined the ground carefully. The Jaghun pressed its nose into the earth, sniffing and whining. Where the nose touched, Gunther beheld the faint outline of a footprint. Looking closely, he discovered a companion to it, and then a second set. They were human tracks, of the size that would most likely belong to the young male.

  Whistling, Gunther summoned the rest of the Jaghuns to him, as well as Lee and Lynn. Fang and the other Jaghuns moved a little further off from the spot, pacing in a direct line leading to the edge of the clearing. Fang’s companions also began to bark energetically.

  They had found a trail again.

  “Find them,” Gunther urged the formidable trackers, with a sweeping gesture that they had come to know long ago.

  The gathering of Jaghuns wasted no time, loping along the pathway that Fang had uncovered, as they set off into the trees to find the two errant humans.

  “I just hope that those two fools are still safe,” Gunther muttered acidly, as Lynn and Lee caught up with him.

  Lee rolled his eyes, as he nodded back to Gunther, a look of exasperation on his face. Lynn’s own expression was not far removed from Lee’s.

  Lee, Lynn, Gunther, and all of the Jaghuns had been put at terrible risk, and not just from the unforeseen dangers of forested wildlands. The further they moved away from the underground city of the Unguhur, the more vulnerable they became if an enemy force should come across them.

  Gunther had a chance to fight off any beast of the forest, but he could not drive off an entire host of warriors. He only hoped that he could maintain his composure, once they found Ryan and Erin, as his blood boiled with the realization of how reckless the two foreigners were.

  “Thinking about wringing their necks?” Lynn a
sked Gunther, to which he nodded his head sharply in the affirmative. She then added curtly, “Same here.”

  “Add me to your number,” Lee offered.

  The three continued on in a hardened silence, keeping their attention focused upon the progress of the Jaghuns moving just ahead from them. Another hour passed in that manner, as they crossed a vast expanse of ground.

  The scenery changed little. Similar types of trees and foliage populated the area around them, and the land maintained its low-rolling contours. A few creeks, one of which was broad enough to make crossing it a slight challenge, cut through the forest floor, and intersected the trail.

  None of the waterways impeded their headway, or obstructed the tracking. Once they had crossed the larger stream, the Jaghuns were quickly able to pick up the trail on the opposite bank, and resume the pursuit.

  Gunther remained close to Lee and Lynn, who were dropping behind gradually as fatigue began to slow their stride, until the Jaghuns were finally out of sight in front of them. He had wanted to remain within visual range of the Jaghuns, but was loathe to leave the sides of the two remaining otherworlders.

  Having two of the foreigners missing was bad enough; to have all four of them out of his sphere of supervision would be intolerable. Both to their credit, and Gunther’s relief, the two with him endured, and did not complain in the least, moving forward with a stoic determination.

  Periodically, Gunther uttered sharp calls, which were answered by the unseen Jaghuns ahead in curt barks. The few exchanges helped Gunther to maintain his orientation, whenever he was in the slightest doubt of their direction. As the light of day started to shift, beginning its gradual descent towards the depths of night, a sudden commotion arose among the Jaghuns.

  Gunther knew his Jaghuns exceedingly well, and he quickly recognized that the tones of their frantic barks were laced with a hint of fear. In one motion, he lunged forward, setting off at a full run, drawing his sword out of its scabbard as he raced onward. Lynn and Lee broke into a run after him, though he rapidly increased the distance with his long, loping gait.

  As Gunther approached the area where the Jaghuns were located, he heard a frenzied yapping and barking, sometimes breaking into something akin to a crazed human’s laughter. The surreal sound nearly paralyzed him in his tracks, for he knew very well what sort of creature made such distinctive, blood-curdling noises.

  It was perhaps one of the worst of possibilities that could be faced in the Saxan woodlands, an encounter with predators not altogether common. He whirled about to face Lynn and Lee, urgently raising his left hand to get them to stop.

  “Stay back… it is Hyaeds! If you wish to live, you will stay here!” Gunther shouted harshly at them, his own eyes unable to hide the fear that gripped him with the recognition.

  Gunther turned, and reevaluated his approach, sliding his sword back into the scabbard and taking his strung bow from his shoulder. He drew an arrow out from his quiver and jogged forward, just as the pained outcry of a Jaghun reached his ears. The agonized cry spurred him forward, to the point of recklessness, as the singular thought of coming to the aid of his beloved creatures consumed him. He had suffered too much loss already, and his emotional wounds were raw and bleeding.

  A terrible sight met his eyes, as he burst into view of his Jaghuns. The image that greeted him would remain forever emblazoned in his mind’s eye. There was scant time to think; only the need to react.

  Altogether, there were four Hyaeds. Often a solitary hunter, the presence of so many together presented an even worse dilemma to Gunther. He had encountered one of their fearsome kind nearly two years before, barely surviving the incident. He had fervently hoped never to cross the path of even one of the beasts again, much less the four that he was now compelled to confront.

  The Hyaeds had extensive, powerful bodies, the largest being just over ten feet in length. Their bodies were carried upon lengthy, muscular legs, each ending in broad paws, the latter enhanced by a set of deadly claws. Each one of the creatures rose easily to more than four feet at the shoulder, the greatest of them being closer to five feet.

  Gunther knew that he could not hope to run away, even if he had wanted to leave the two foolish otherworlders, and abandon them to the hands of fate and the All-Father. These were creatures capable of tremendous bursts of speed, running swiftly on their toes. He had long since passed beyond the range in which he could have sought to evade the beasts. He had no choice left but to fight, if he wanted even the slimmest chance to survive.

  He eyed the monstrous predators with a cool, iron gaze, one that was a necessity in order to keep his composure and wits about him. His steady arms and hands raised the bow up, and drew the arrow smoothly back, ready to loose it in an instant.

  Thick, powerful necks flowed from the Hyaeds’ chiseled shoulders directly into an extended muzzle. Their jaws were arrayed with an arsenal of glistening teeth, displayed vividly within their snarling visages.

  Gunther knew that those jaws clamped down with awesome force, capable of crushing bone with ease. Their jaws were made even deadlier by the fact that they possessed more than one pair of sheering teeth, located a little farther back of their prominent canines. These additional sheering teeth were a unique marvel that Gunther had never seen on any other type of creature in his extensive travels. He knew very well what the sheering teeth were used for, and what they were capable of, in a creature with the power of a Hyaed.

  The eyes of the Hyaeds were set a little forward on their elongated skulls, with large, spade-shaped ears set farther back, on either side of their heads.

  They were not hyenas, nor wolves, nor lions, but to Gunther’s eyes had something reminiscent of each of those formidable carnivores. They were fearsome adversaries, against which even the strongest of his Jaghuns were no match in a direct conflict.

  The circumstances of the overall situation began to become clearer, as Gunther assessed the quartet of Hyaeds more carefully. One large, older male and two younger male Hyaeds had been brought together by the fourth Hyaed; a female in the full bloom of the mating season of their kind.

  Where a ferocious combat might otherwise have occurred between the males over her attentions, differences had been put aside at the inviting prospect of easy prey that had wandered so fortuitously into their territory.

  The predators were clustered at the base of an oak tree. A quick glance upward betrayed the presence of two very terrified humans, a young man and woman huddled amid the highest branches that would support their weight.

  Yet the attention of the Hyaeds was no longer focused on the trapped prey. A fight was already underway, creating the worst sight of the scene before him, as Gunther’s Jaghuns had already moved in to intervene.

  Two of the Hyaeds, the two young adult males, had driven one of his Jaghuns to the ground. Working as a tandem, they snapped their powerful jaws down upon the hapless Jaghun, using their powerful bulk to pin their quarry down. The Jaghun cried out in terrible pain, struggling furiously against the overwhelming assault. One of the Hyaeds locked its jaws down upon the Jaghun’s neck, and a sickening, crunching sound could be heard, as the Jaghun’s struggles ceased, along with its life.

  The sight enraged Gunther, pushing him to madness, as all sensibilities darted away from him in less than an instant. Bellowing out a thundering cry, he loosed his arrow at the one whose bite had snapped the Jaghun’s neck. Gunther then threw down his bow, drew his sword, and rushed furiously at the slayers of his Jaghun.

  Both Hyaeds whirled away from the slain Jaghun to face the human interloper that so brazenly dared to attack them. The menacing creatures moved with a great swiftness, despite their considerable mass. They bared their teeth at Gunther, and their blazing eyes bored into him.

  The burning pain from Gunther’s arrow, lodged deeply in its left shoulder, infuriated one of the Hyaeds. It caused the creature to turn its head to snap at the offending arrow, in the wake of the penetrating impact. The sliver of delay allowed Gunthe
r the barest of opportunities, in which to strike at the other Hyaed, before being forced to engage both of them.

  Gunther seized that opening without delay, slashing down desperately at the muscled hide covering the nearest creature’s right shoulder. The sharp sword sprayed open a long gash, out of which streamed a dark flow of blood. The creature howled in pain and madness, shifting back on its haunches, and swiping its great right paw at him.

  Gunther jumped backwards, as the tips of the beast’s talons came within just inches of slashing him across the chest. Bringing his sword back around, he brought it crashing down on the creature’s thick neck. The blow was well-delivered, embedding deep into the creature’s flesh, and going almost half-way towards beheading it. The Hyaed abruptly toppled to the ground, as its spinal column was severed by a cold steel edge.

  Gunther’s remaining Jaghuns, while he was delivering the killing blows to the one younger male, had moved in to snap at, and maneuver around, the other two Hyaeds.

  The older male and the female stalked the Jaghuns in their own turn, feinting lunges from time to time, and continuing their chorus of unsettling, high-pitched cries. The Hyaeds were trying to position themselves for a prime moment, in which the chance presented itself to fall upon the harassing Jaghuns, whose exceptional quickness was all that kept them from being torn apart. The surreal cries were now intermingled with a horrific, highly unsettling sound, generated by the grinding of their teeth as they sought to intimidate Gunther’s Jaghuns.

  The Hyaed with the arrow lodged in its shoulder recovered its control, bounding over the dead Jaghun, and past the fallen Hyaed. Gunther had to twist immediately on reflex, falling heavily to the ground as the beast sprang forward, flinging its bulk towards him.

  Gunther fell flat against the earth, feeling a brush of air across his face, and hearing the incensed cry of the creature as it missed its prey. The Hyaed landed beyond him on its paws, and whirled about, baring its gleaming sharp teeth. Its snout wrinkled into a menacing snarl, as its eyes seared into Gunther with a storming rage.