Dream of Legends

by Stephen Zimmer

  “Open it!” the scout leader commanded the men, who withdrew some small hand axes, and set about hacking into the planks of the door.

  In a few short moments, the steel-edged blades burst through the planks, as splintered, shattered chunks of the door flew all about. The way was soon open for the Avanorans to enter the dwelling. They paused hesitantly before the heavy darkness of the interior, weapons raised, as if expecting some sort of ambush by the inhabitants of the edifice. As their eyes began to adjust more fully to the deep, shadowy interior, they carefully entered with their weapons gripped firmly in hand.

  There was no sign of the occupants of the abode. The emptiness of the upper floor was discovered a few moments later, when a couple of the Avanorans guardedly ascended the wooden staircase to inspect the second level.

  “There were at least four, staying up there,” one of the men reported back to the party’s leader.

  The leader’s brow furrowed in concern, as the few sparse belongings, furnishings, a couple of chests and clothes found on the first level indicated a larger-bodied, singular male. As he stood in the center of the room, he watched a couple of other men try the large door set in the back of the ground level’s open chamber. At first, he paid them little attention, surmising that the door opened into some manner of storage chamber.

  “Some further sign of what this place is may be in there,” he said, encouraging the men endeavoring to open it. “And perhaps some supplies as well. This is not the usual Saxan dwelling.”

  It was swiftly discovered that the door was barred from the inside. That only meant one thing to the Avanoran leader.

  “Break through it then! I care not how!” he ordered them harshly, his curiosity significantly piqued.

  The men did not need any extra impetus, as they set their muscles towards breaking through the second door. Hand axes were turned again from being weapons to tools of utility. The blades impacted heavily into the planks, and bits of wood flew outward, exposing the thick timber bar that had been set in place on the opposite side. Beyond the bar was what seemed to be some kind of passageway.

  “Barred from the inside. Can only mean one thing,” muttered the scout leader, his sense of caution rising fast. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the doorway. He then concluded aloud, “Whoever was here has gone down that passage.”

  Eyes riveted to the door, he raised his spear up, and gestured for the others to gather close around him. The cracks of shattering wood resounded as the door was bashed into pieces, to fully expose the entryway into darkness.

  Cool air wafted up from the dark entrance and flowed into the room, enveloping the Avanorans and causing several of them to shiver. The scout leader immediately sensed that an elongated chamber, or some kind of extended tunnel, lay beyond, far different in scale than the small storage area that he had initially expected to find.

  The Avanorans hesitated nervously at the opening to the dark passage, letting their eyes adjust, even as they took notice of a far off speck of light within the blackness.

  “Get some torches ready,” the leader gruffly commanded the men.

  As some kept their vigil at the opening, others immediately set about preparing flames and lighting short-hafted torches. When they were finally ready, the scout leader ordered a couple of fighters in the front to take a few steps inside the chilly entrance.

  The torchlight seemed to be swallowed up by the encompassing darkness within, though the flames’ ambience cast enough light to reveal the damp, rocky environs of a cave’s interior. A short distance down, just beyond the revealing edge of the lights, it looked as if the walls were much more even than they were towards the opening. To those that looked upon the change in the surfacing, it looked uncannily as if the rock had been worked intentionally.

  “Bring the dagger-tooths through, and keep your guard up, rat-men,” the scout leader curtly ordered a couple of nearby Atagar.

  The two rat-men that he had addressed made no reply, though the scout leader heard them chattering a few words in their strange tongue as they scurried off. They returned quickly enough, this time in the company of a couple of others of their kind that held the leashes to brawny Licanthers.

  The Avanorans in the room backed up as the beasts padded forward with their handlers. Even the leader tensed for a moment, as the dark-furred cats stepped silently past him, watching their muscles rippling in their fluid, graceful motions.

  At their masters’ urgings, the pair moved into the mouth of the opening, one following the other into the narrow confines. The two huge cats tensed within a couple of steps, their ears flattening back against their heads, as they paused and stared into the blackness.

  The Avanoran leader brusquely compelled the Atagar to move the beasts deeper into the passage, impatient to get underway before his nerves began to fray. Looking greatly irritated, the Atagar handlers complied, and cajoled the reluctant beasts forward.

  Low growls rumbled from the back of the agitated beasts’ throats as they started forward again. They drew up to the torchbearers in the passage and took the lead. The scout leader and several other Avanoran warriors then entered the tunnel, and followed closely behind.

  A few Avanorans remained back in the dwelling, as the larger proportion of the patrol proceeded forward into the depths of the cave passage. The few torches that the party had lit did little to ease the oppressive feeling that the scout leader felt, an ominous dread that rose with each step. The blackness appeared to press in, confining the scant glow cast by the torches, and threatening to swallow the firebrands, and perhaps even their bearers, at any time.

  The walls of the passage grew broader, and the scout leader knew that the ceiling had risen higher when the Licanthers started to growl more fervently, in extreme agitation. The creatures were now side by side, no longer forced to walk in single file. Their handlers were unable to coax the giant cats forward, both beasts rigidly defiant as they stood their ground.

  “What is it?” the scout leader whispered sharply to the Atagar handlers, as he eased his way up to their position.

  His words trailed off right at the moment when the cave walls themselves appeared to come alive. A storm of motion exploded upon the scouting party, Avanoran, Atagar, and Licanther alike.

  Huge, shadowy forms erupted from the darkness, whirling about from where they had been pressed closely against the cave walls. Their rock-gray hides, rough and of gritty textures, had blended very capably with the stone as they had maneuvered themselves to fill in crevices and depressions along the course of the passageway.

  Hidden in the deeper shadows, and only faintly touched by the light of the torches, they had been utterly silent, and imperceptible to the humans and Atagar. Only the Licanthers had sensed that anything was amiss, and by the time that the cats were certain of the danger, it was too late.

  One of the Licanthers emitted a blood-curdling outcry, high-pitched sounds interwoven with roaring and hissing as it whirled about lithely to face the emerging threats. In a flash, four sets of claws were unsheathed, and ready to maul its imminent attackers. Two great spears were driven into the Licanther’s body with relentless force before it could even loose one swipe of its deadly claws.

  The second Licanther was felled by a singular thrust of staggering force. The thunderous, impaling blow knocked the creature off of its paws and slammed it down into the ground. The great cat was already lifeless when it thudded heavily onto the stone surfacing of the passage.

  The frenzied stabs of the long, thick-hafted spears, at whose ends were wickedly sharp, obsidian heads, that to a human would be considered daggers in their own right, were devastating to the unarmored scouts. Even if they had worn coats of mail, it would have been of little protection against the horrific strength wielded by the hulking attackers.

  Torches fell and clattered to the ground, casting a flurry of shadows amid the anguished, panicked cries of the men. The Avanorans were swiftly cut down by the massive forms, which had so suddenly arisen from t
he darkness. The hapless Avanorans realized with horror that their attackers had them completely surrounded. At a tremendous loss in the swirling darkness, the Avanorans’ senses and skills were overwhelmed in mere seconds.

  A couple of them started to run back the way they had come, dropping their weapons in terror. They only got a few strides before their path was intercepted, and they were dispatched brutally, without mercy.

  The handful of Avanoran warriors that had remained behind within the woodland dwelling looked into the passageway in crippling fear, as they heard the frightened outcries and sounds of slaughter pouring out of the baleful darkness. One of them, who happened to be one of the Avanorans whose axe had hewn through the door to the passage, murmured under his breath his fervent wish that the thick timber door could be closed.

  They could not see the attackers, nor could they recognize the forms of their own men. They remained frozen in place, indecision and dread paralyzing them to inaction.

  The sounds of the battle ended very quickly, but it brought no cessation of their worry as they saw flickers of movements within the caliginous depths. The movements were accompanied by a flurry of scuffling, scratching noises, which seemed be rising in volume.

  “Macy?” called one of the Avanorans, hoping against hope that their leader was still alive as he listened to the foreboding sounds of movement within the passage. “Macy, answer me!”

  The scuffling sounds continued to build, but there was no answer forthcoming.

  “Anyone? Anyone in there?” he called out frantically again, at a loss for words as he stared wide-eyed into the passage.

  He instinctively took a step back from the opening, his hands faintly quivering where they gripped the shaft of his spear.

  “Answer us, or we will loose arrows!” another Avanoran cried out.

  Again, no answer was forthcoming as the sounds of approach drew closer. It was as if the darkness was coalescing, and rushing towards the opening. All of the Avanorans stepped back another couple of paces, their movements betraying that they had little doubt that something dreadful was almost upon them.

  “Loose the arrows! Loose them!” yelled the Avanoran that had taken part in the door’s shattering.

  The Avanoran fighter, whether his eyes perceived truly or not, espied hints of shapes looming closer in the dark. The forms were far too immense to be those of any humans. Every primal part of his being screamed out inside that doom was imminent.

  A couple of the archers among them then loosed their arrows, sending the shafts flying into the passageway. A guttural, angry cry that was anything but human answered from the darkness. An arrow had found its mark, and confirmed the presence of a grave threat.

  The perilous tide continued to swell in the darkness, as it surged towards the Avanorans, the scuffles now taking the form of a multitude of heavy, rapid steps.

  “Get out of here! Flee now!” one of the archers cried out frantically, to the few Avanorans in the room.

  The remaining soldiers needed no encouragement as they turned and ran towards the entrance to the dwelling. In the confusion, a third Licanther with its Atagar handler, having entered the dwelling at the onset of the commotion, were the first to meet the deadly torrent rushing out from the passage.

  The Licanther roared in searing pain as it took a hurled spear from the first Unguhur to emerge from the passageway. Its body crumpled to the ground with the massive shaft protruding from its neck. Its life ebbed in sickening gurgles, as its scrabbling, haphazard movements slowed.

  The lone Atagar was driven through by another of the large spears, wielded swiftly by the second attacker to burst into the front room. The huge Unguhur was upon the Atagar before it could even comprehend the nature of its slayer. The Atagar’s high-pitched shriek pierced through the front doorway, and carried into the grounds outside of the dwelling.

  To a man, the Avanorans that had just exited the woodland abode cried out in abject fear, as they quickly beheld what was patiently awaiting them outside the building. Towering gray shapes hemmed them in at the entrance of the timber dwelling, having formed a tight semicircle that trapped the forlorn humans.

  Greatly outnumbered, and facing fearsome creatures, of a type that they had never seen before, the last few Avanorans yelled out in a crazed sense of desperation and defiance. Weapons held firmly, they charged the enormous Unguhur in a maddened fury that channeled their fear.

  Their wild slashes with spear, hand-axe, or dagger largely went awry, though one of the fighters did manage to drive his spear into the thick leg of an Unguhur warrior. The creature, howling in pain and rage, swung furiously through the air with its crude, mace-like weapon, black stone lashed tightly to a thick haft. The crushing blow crumpled the unfortunate man, his broken body thudding to the ground.

  One against one, the Avanorans were absolutely no match for the Unguhur. With a ratio of several Unguhur for every man, the struggle was entirely hopeless for the humans. Not one Avanoran out of the large scout patrol survived the brief fight.

  When the combat had ended, the Unguhur warriors dispersed. A few of the Unguhur proceeded back down the passageway from the woodsman’s dwelling. They headed into the underground fungus-forest, and felled several stalks, which they then carried back into the passage. They worked to fashion a considerable barricade within the opening from the surface dwelling, stuffing the narrow part of the passage thoroughly.

  Long before the obstacle was set into place, others had already gathered and dragged the bodies of the slain Avanorans into the passage and down into the lower cavern. They removed any sign of the dour fates of the Avanoran scouts and their non-human allies. In a short while, Gunther’s homestead looked lonely and abandoned once again.

  A number of warrior Unguhur were then set in position to keep watch within the rough-hewn, wider section of the passageway, beyond the makeshift blockade.

  Others from the band of warriors wended their way through the woods on the surface, continuing back to the secondary location where they had emerged out into the open air. The small cave opening that awaited them had allowed them to circle around and set the choking trap, which had caught the remnants of the Avanoran patrol as they fled the interior of the dwelling.

  Filing into the cave one by one, the warriors proceeded down another long passage that their kind’s labor had widened ages ago, to allow for their great forms. The last one through pulled some brush into place that obscured the cave opening. When finished, the Unguhur warrior entered the passage, and adjusted a large stone behind it to conceal the passage entrance in the rear of the cave.

  What the woodsman Gunther had known for a long while, and had gladly embraced, the Avanoran intruders had just discovered to their extreme detriment; the existence of a large population of the Unguhur race, living primarily in isolation, far underneath the outer, western forests of Saxany.

  SECTION II

  *

  JANUS

  *

  The canoes bearing Ayenwatha, the tribal warriors, and the seven exiles traveled smoothly, gliding along the river’s mild currents. Several hours had already passed, and the day had finally crossed the midpoint, though it would still be quite some time before the sunlight ebbed.

  Muscles were drained to weakness, backs had become very sore, and an assortment of cramps and aches had to be ignored by the occupants of the canoes in their urgency to get down the river. Tribal warriors served as steersmen and navigators in the bows and sterns of the canoes, but the journey was a comprehensive effort. The exiles did their part from the beginning, putting their best efforts into repeatedly pulling their paddles through the water.

  Ayenwatha called for one brief, merciful stop, at a broad stretch of embankment. During the respite, the Onan warriors passed out some cornmeal, sweetened by a little maple syrup, amongst the members of the tired party. After taking just a few moments to eat and catch their breaths, they were called to return the canoes to the water. The meager sustenance could not fully assuage J
anus’ growing hunger, or replenish his sorely depleted energy, but at the time each mouthful seemed like a precious luxury.

  Constructed of panels of elm or birch bark that had been stitched together around a cedar frame, generously gummed with spruce resin, the canoes held up quite well over the pressing journey. To Janus’ relief, they did not take on much water, though when landing he noticed that the warriors were cautious not to run the vessels aground, likely due to the nature of the gummed seams.

  The unbroken continuum of thick forest growths hugging the edge of the embankments eventually degenerated in Janus’ eyes. They changed from visions of lush, natural beauty, to repetitive monotony, especially by the time that afternoon had begun to mature.

  At least, he was not left baking in the sun. The canoes glided into segments of the river that were well-shaded and cool, before emerging into stretches of direct, unimpeded sunlight that showered down warmly upon their bodies. The robust pace of their travel also sustained a cool flow of air over the canoes’ occupants.

  Janus was grateful for each and every small comfort that graced them, as his strength ebbed further with every passing hour. A little anxiety arose within him, as he began to labor with each strenuous pull of the cedar paddle. He was not so sure that he could endure for very much longer.

  He felt a distinct sense of relief when Ayenwatha finally guided the canoes towards a large encampment situated near the edge of the shore. At first, Janus wondered which tribe of the Five Realms occupied the site, but as soon as he set his eyes on it, he could see at once that the encampment and its inhabitants exhibited many differences from Ayenwatha’s people and their hill-surmounting villages.

  There were a fair number of canoes in evidence within the encampment, though they were of a noticeably different style than those belonging to the Onan. A few rested upon their bellies close to the water. Others were turned upside down, propped up off the ground at one end on a bracing of lashed poles.