Crown of Vengeance Read online

  From Ayenwatha’s continuing relaxed posture and amiable countenance, Janus suspected that their stories were measuring up well with the war sachem’s assessments. Janus felt confident, as the sachem’s correlation of the group’s various accounts would have revealed no incongruities, for there were none to be had.

  Like the crystals, Ayenwatha’s pursuit of extensive detail was merely another bout of testing, woven shrewdly into an atmosphere of casual conversation.

  “I believe that great magic was used upon you. It was wielded against you, or for you,” Ayenwatha remarked at long last, after the stories of the group’s travails had been thoroughly rendered. “But which kind of magic, I cannot yet tell. Perhaps it was the miraculous work of the One Spirit, the Creator and Sky Lord. Maybe it was the Mother of the World, whom the Sky Lord sent to us … or the Light Brother. Maybe it was the work of the Dark Brother, or malevolent spirits from deep in the underworld. Who can now say? Even so, in time, I am sure that it will become clear which kind of magic brought you into our lands. There is much to consider, and …”

  Ayenwatha’s words were interrupted as the sound of flapping wings filtered down from the skies above the thickly foliated tree branches. Abruptly becoming silent, the war sachem froze in place, right as all of the other warriors snapped to a halt.

  Janus instantly took their cue and stood still, holding his breath as he watched Ayenwatha for an indication of what to do. The sound of the wings grew louder, as if something was approaching. From what he could tell, whatever was coming was not far above the trees.

  “Down, all of you, and press against the trees,” Ayenwatha commanded them sharply, in a voice laced with urgency.

  The other warriors had already faded into the forest’s foliage, dissolving into undergrowth and shadows. For them, the act of vanishing into their surroundings was probably a mere reflex. For Janus and most of the others with him, everything was unfamiliar, including the nature of this new world’s dangers. Only Derek could have been expected to possess some kinship with the instinctive responses of a trained warrior.

  Following Ayenwatha’s directive, Janus crouched low and pressed himself tightly against the trunk of a great maple tree. Looking around, he saw that the others of his group had taken similar positions at the bases of nearby trees.

  Like himself, most of the others looked anxious and uncertain, and only Derek looked to be confident and more at ease with the task. Ayenwatha moved around quickly, nimble and light of step, as he took appraisal of the seven and their postures. His purpose became apparent as he made Antonio adjust his body position, aligning him closer to the base of the tree that he had sought cover under. The flapping sounds drew ever nearer, prompting Janus to start looking skyward.

  “The sky scouts of the Unifier’s forces are above us. Stay still. Stay to the trees and do not move at all. Do not speak, until I tell you it is safe,” Ayenwatha cautioned them as he moved to a tree close by, drawing Janus’ attention back to the war sachem.

  Ayenwatha then nodded towards the skies, compelling Janus to look upward again. Through the few breaks of light in the interlaced mass of branches and leaves overhead, Janus observed a number of winged forms passing through the air a short distance above the tree canopy.

  A rapidly occurring assortment of brief glimpses transpired, as the winged group flew over the war band and the exiles. Shadows flitted all over the ground with their passage. Janus remained motionless, staring intently above, though he could not make out much detail out about the flying creatures. He did see enough to determine that whatever the winged creatures might be, they were large, and they were bearing riders.

  A sizeable group continued over their positions, and by Janus’ best estimations it was at least twenty riders strong. After several more tense moments, the flapping of the wings faded and the skies became fully silent once again.

  Cautiously, Ayenwatha crept out from his own hiding place, looking upward and listening carefully. After waiting for many long moments, he finally raised his hands to his lips and gave a signal that sounded like the call of a bird. The trilling call brought all of the warriors forth from the shadows, and they reassembled in the area around Ayenwatha and the seven.

  “You may be at ease now,” Ayenwatha said to the exiles, indicating for them to come forward from their places. Derek and the others converged, rising up and striding from the trees towards Ayenwatha, one by one.

  Ayenwatha waited until all seven of the foreigners had drawn near to him before continuing. His voice was thick with anger. “Those wings herald the doom of our lands, and the power that commands them is the bane of all our people … and, in truth, the bane of all people.”

  “What … were those?” Logan asked Ayenwatha in a low voice, standing at Janus’ side with a furrowed brow.

  Janus looked back to the sachem, the same question perched on the tip of his own tongue. Shifting over a couple of paces to stand next to Logan, Antonio kept his widened eyes fixated towards the skies.

  Janus glanced over at Kent, who was at his other shoulder.

  The right side of Kent’s face looked like tree bark, from where he had mashed his face into the trunk that he had taken cover by. One half of his face smooth, the other the inverse pattern of the bark, the resulting effect was undeniably comical. Janus had to stifle the chuckle that threatened to burst forth, given the very serious circumstances.

  “The Unifier calls upon the power of many lands, and the forces gathering against us have far greater numbers than do we. It is no different with their sky warriors. We have winged steeds, but we must keep our steeds upon the ground, lest we become overwhelmed by their numbers in the sky,” Ayenwatha replied in a grave tone. “The enemy has brought a very fierce race with them from afar, warriors whose great steeds are stronger and faster than are ours.

  “It is said that the dog-faced warriors that ride upon those steeds come from the great, mountainous lands to the west of the Gigan lands, those huge creatures that some among you saw marching with the human forces this day. The dog-faced ones are powerful and courageous warriors, known as Trogens.”

  Janus could hear the sincere respect that Ayenwatha held towards these particular enemies, though Janus had not the first inkling of what Trogens were.

  There was so much to assimilate since that morning. Learning of the existence of a strange race of dog-faced warriors riding upon winged beasts was now added to everything else. Janus already had to contend with thoughts of the passing of a massive army on the brink of war, Ayenwatha and his people, Gigans, Atagar, Licanthers, the Wanderer, all manner of foreign realms, the apparent reality of magic, and the talk of the foreboding Unifier.

  Janus had no answers for any of it, and it was almost enough to send his head spinning. From a quick look at each of the others of his party, it did not look like any of them had a full grasp of things either.

  Starkly confronted by the growing maelstrom of an unknown, very dangerous world, Janus knew that, like himself, his companions were only just beginning the quest of coming to terms with their new reality. It was a challenge that none of them had chosen, but one that all would have to face outright.

  “We must not delay here,” Ayenwatha said after a few more uncomfortable moments, “We must continue onward to the village.”

  There were no arguments forthcoming from anyone, warrior or exile alike, as Ayenwatha resumed the march, leading the war band at a brisk pace through the woods.

  LOGAN

  The Onan village to which Logan and the others were escorted was a fountainhead of tranquil imagery, from its own majestic, hilltop perch, to the sights within the scenic, forested terrain leading up to the prominent rise.

  The village was nestled within a territory that was rich in beech and birch trees, as well as the white flowers amply decorating the ground that Logan had seen everywhere within the forest domain. The village itself surmounted a great hill, but the signs of human habitation came into view well before the party reached the
base of its long slope.

  The war party had announced its presence early on the approach to the hill, with a series of spirited cries and whoops that had carried far through the trees and hills. Logan had quickly perceived the rising enthusiasm running through the warriors, noticing at the same time that the group’s pace had picked up significantly. With the upswing in mood and the brazen outcries, he had known that it was not going to be much farther to their destination.

  The next indication of their close proximity to the village came shortly thereafter. A couple of warriors that had been sent running ahead a short while earlier returned back to the war band. They had not come back alone, as they were accompanied by a small number of tribal women.

  The faces of the women beamed radiantly when they came into sight and saw the rest of the war party. They quickly took notice of Logan and his six companions, eyes widening as they studied the strange appearances and clothing of the foreigners. An even more amazed look arose upon their faces when it was explained to them that the seven were not captives taken in battle.

  The women’s purpose in meeting the war party was then revealed, though the women did not cease in casting furtive glances towards Logan and the others.

  The rather grisly scalps that had been carried along by the warriors were then affixed to small rings that were set atop long, red-painted poles brought by the women. Once the scalps were attached, they took up the poles again as the group resumed its march through the woods. The women carried the poles upright and held high, like a standard, as they walked at the forefront of the war band.

  The next tribal people that the party encountered were a number of men who had been engaged in hard labor. That was made quite apparent from the glisten of sweat covering their bared skin, their weary countenances, and the heavier breathing pervasive among them. Sunlight reflected off of many axe heads, the short wooden hafts held firmly within the hands of several of the men.

  Many were bare of chest, wearing little more than a kind of hide breechcloth, of the type that went between their legs and was tucked over a hide belt in front and back. They wore no body paint, though a copious array of tattoos, reflecting the diversity of design seen upon the warriors, were worked into the skin of their lean bodies.

  Though they had come to a complete halt in their labors at the approach of the war party, their undertaking was clear to Logan. They had been embroiled in the task of felling several trees within an area that was evidently being cleared for some future use.

  The men, like the women carrying the poles, were elated at the sight of the returning war band. They hastened over and exchanged informal, fervent greetings with the warriors, several individuals in both groups clearly displaying affinity towards each other.

  The men eyed Logan and his companions very closely, as Ayenwatha and the other warriors spoke briefly with them. The march was resumed again very shortly, as the men from the nascent clearing brought their hand axes along with them, falling in with the growing procession.

  The enlarged group had not gone much farther when they ran into yet more members of the tribe that had been toiling with the land. In broad swathes of ground that had been fully cleared of trees, now teeming with small dirt mounds, a number of women had been laboring amid some newly sprouted crops.

  Scattered throughout the mounds and growths, the women were fully oriented upon the war party’s presence by the time that it drew into their sight. Joyous smiles spread quickly, and within moments the throng of women was converging upon the marching group.

  The war party came to yet another halt at that juncture. As the women gathered all around, Logan took the opportunity to study the females of the tribe a little more carefully.

  The majority of the women was clad in one of two general styles of attire. One group wore wrap-around garments, not unlike long skirts, which were accompanied with cape-like tops on their upper bodies. Others were clad in full-length tunics. Both styles were fashioned of buckskin, most being left in a natural color, with a few dyed to darker hues.

  The outer surfacing of the hide attire showed ample variation in the quill and beadwork patterns worked skillfully into them. Flowers, birds, and intertwining swirls gracefully ascended the women in beautiful displays of natural elements.

  Richly decorated moccasins adorned the feet of the women, filled abundantly with even more dyed quill-work and beaded embellishments. On many of the pairs the ornamentation was augmented further around the high ankles of the moccasins, with fringes created from deer-hair tassels, each of them bound by little metallic cones.

  The women had been using hoes crafted of wood and bone in their labors among the developing crop. Looking again at the planting area, Logan then noticed that the burgeoning yield was not uniform in nature. Rather, it contained multiple elements that had been planted purposefully together.

  One of those crop elements was rising from the tops of the small dirt mounds, the growths roughly a span high. Another distinct element was sprouting on the surface of the mounds as well, maturing close to the taller, vertical growths. A third distinctive crop was fanning out from the base of the mounds, filling in the flatter ground in between the low rises.

  “What are you growing here?” Logan had managed to ask Ayenwatha, as he stared out over the field. “Has it been planted for long?”

  “When the leaf of the oak is the size of a squirrel’s foot, the Three Siblings are brought forth,” Ayenwatha replied, as if quoting some tribal maxim.

  “The Three Siblings?” Logan asked curiously, wanting to learn something more of the intriguing people that were taking Logan and his companions in.

  Ayenwatha related to Logan that the Three Siblings were the primary crops of the tribal people. As Ayenwatha explained it, maize stalks would rise up from the mounds of soil, and beans would then grow upward along the rising stalks, using them as support. The third of the Siblings, squash, would grow profusely all over the lower ground, thickly covering the spaces in between the small mounds with their broad leaves.

  Logan nodded, as he looked around at the women now fully gathered all around them.

  The women, who mostly ranged from young adulthood to middle age, displayed a great exuberance at the arrival of the war band. Like the others that the war band had come across, they looked upon Logan and the others with both curiosity and a little trepidation exhibited in their faces.

  A few children, likely having mothers amongst the field laborers, soon made their presence known among the throng greeting the war party. The little ones worked their way eagerly to the forefront of the gathered women, taking quick note of the interesting newcomers among the war party.

  The youngest among them were entirely unclothed, much to Logan’s surprise and slight awkwardness. The presence of clothing, and the amount of it, increased with their age, with the oldest of the children being garbed in very similar manners to the adults.

  The children chattered and giggled excitedly, talking amongst themselves as well as calling out to the warriors. They all remained close to the adult women, clearly keeping a little cautious distance from the strangers.

  A few of the warriors laughed merrily and teased the children, who appeared to be utterly fascinated with the seven guests, making no effort to hide their feelings. Many little mouths fell agape, eyes widening with incredulity and amazement at the sight of the peculiar clothes and foreign appearances of Logan’s group.

  The mothers, trying to maintain a certain level of composure, endeavored to deflect the flurry of hushed and blurted questions cast at them by the inquisitive, unsubtle youth.

  The women from the crop field subsequently joined their number to the swelling entourage, as the group continued onward following the short delay. The children, though staying intensely interested in the exiles, maintained a healthy distance from the foreigners as they trotted out to the sides of the war party.

  The expanding party proceeded on past the field, finally moving towards the base of the village’s great hi
ll, which came into sight through the trees, the prominent elevation looming high above everything around it.

  The village was quite an impressive sight seen from below, drawing Logan’s eyes immediately upward as he strode out from the trees and walked forward under the open sky. The summit of the large hill had been entirely cleared of trees and brush, as had the slopes. An encompassing wooden palisade of vertical stakes had been erected all along the contours of the hilltop’s outer edges.

  Just beyond a thin strip of ground at the base of the palisade were some earthworks, which consisted of a broad ditch and outer embankment that had been cut into the hillside itself. The ditch and embankment looked as if it would be a very potent obstacle to any threat seeking to reach the palisade itself.

  The long walk up the slope to the village was accompanied by an increasing amount of jubilance and fanfare from the tribal people. The returning warriors shouted and cried out boisterously as they approached the timber crown surmounting the hilltop. The women carrying the poles with the scalps, still at the forefront of the entire procession, called out in loud, resonant voices, before breaking into vibrant, chant-like singing. They waved the poles back and forward, proudly heralding the return of the war party.

  Several other tribal warriors filed out of the narrow entrance in the palisade wall to greet the party as they ascended the lengthy slope. The emerging warriors were not covered in the red and black paint, such as that gracing all the members of the war party. Like all the groups that the war party had recently come across, they also looked happy and very relieved to see the approaching contingent.

  Also similar to all of the others, they took an immediate, profound interest in the seven foreigners.

  The chorus of animated cries and vibrant songs filled the air underneath the bright silken skies, as the war band funneled through a gap in the earthen embankment and continued forth through the village entrance, with the rest of the crowd in their wake. Within the palisade’s narrow entryway was a considerable expanse of open ground, which was occupied by numerous wooden structures.