Crown of Vengeance fie-1 Read online

  The warrior appeared to be more annoyed with the fact that the weapon was up there, than he was angered with Kent’s transgression. Once back on the ground again, the warrior turned to face all of the chamber’s occupants, fixing each of them with a sharp, piercing glance. His dark eyes held a hardened, inflexible look within them.

  “No weapons!” he said firmly.

  “Kent, sit still! Can’t you at least do that for a few minutes?” Derek vented, with obvious exasperation. Derek looked over to the warrior, and spoke politely. “I apologize for our friend. He did not mean to provoke, he’s just very curious about everything here. All of this is new to us.”

  Janus rolled his eyes from where he stood next to Derek. He turned to Erika and Mershad, chuckling. “Kids. Can’t always watch them.”

  The others returned a nervous, low laughter from where they were sitting on the lower platform. The warrior in the doorway relaxed his posture somewhat as Kent shuffled away from the platform, to come over and stand by Derek and Janus. Another warrior had come up to stand next to the first one by then, and neither showed any impending signs of leaving, or ceasing in their supervision of the seven foreigners.

  Turning his head, Logan saw that a third warrior had taken up a vigil in the chamber’s other opening. Like the other two, he gazed with a humorless expression upon Logan’s group. The sight of the warrior instantly confirmed Logan’s earlier suspicions regarding the possibility of guarding occupants within the other adjacent chamber.

  Though they were not making any special effort to intimidate, the presence of the three warriors had the instant effect of dampening all conversation within the room. Sitting down upon various edges of the lower platforms on each side of the chamber, Logan and the others quietly bided their time.

  Looking sullen and castigated, Kent moved deeper on the platform towards the chamber wall. He lay on his back across one of the animal skins and stared up at underside of the upper platform, brooding in the tense stillness of the chamber.

  The warrior that had initially spoken then handed the confiscated war club over to his companion, and calmly walked over to the platform, looking down at Kent.

  “Use the mat, place it underneath you against the wood,” he instructed Kent in a slightly softer tone of voice, gesturing towards one of the corn-husk mats lying close by. “It will be more comfortable for you.”

  Finally understanding the warrior’s intent, Kent nodded and sat up. He pulled the nearby mat over, pulled the animal skin onto it, and shifted his body to lie atop all of it. The warrior seemed satisfied, turning and walking quietly back to the chamber’s entryway.

  Despite the considerate gesture by the warrior, the time nonetheless continued to pass by with a heavy, pensive silence pervading the chamber. Logan stared down at the empty fire pit a few feet in front of him, letting his mind slowly drift off.

  It may have been hours or just minutes later, but Logan’s sluggish attention was fully roused as the warriors in the doorway straightened up suddenly, and the sound of low voices came to his ears. The two warriors to Logan’s left proceeded to step aside, clearing the opening, amid a general sound of shuffling and shifting in the adjacent chamber.

  The warrior in the opposite chamber opening had an attentive look upon his face, his gaze no longer fixed upon the occupants of the chamber, but rather on the other entryway. Logan followed the warrior’s eyes back across the room, to see what had compelled his attention.

  A tall, older man with gray-streaked long hair then walked through the opening to Logan’s left, followed a step behind by Ayenwatha.

  The older man had a hardened look woven into his amply creased face. Though clearly a man very advanced of years, his authoritative presence was accompanied by an aura of strength.

  Wide-set, straight lines of a lighter hue streaked down his face. Showing prominently against the darker skin of his weathered face, the set of markings spanned from under the older man’s right eye down to just below his sharp chin. They looked like old scars, from the raking claws of some great, predatory beast.

  He wore a banded type of headdress, the wide part circling about his head generously decorated with colorful bead and quill-work. Out of the center of the headdress emerged a plumage of long feathers, mixed with what looked to be clusters of horsehair. Two prominent feathers rose straight upward from the apex of the head covering.

  The arms of his knee-length, buckskin tunic and leggings exhibited ornamented garters. They were wrapped snugly about his upper arms and at his knees, with the ending lengths dangling down from where they were tied off. An elaborate, multicolored strap traveled across his chest from the right shoulder down to his waist, where it secured a similarly decorated pouch.

  His feet were clad in bead-decorated, moosehair-tasseled moccasins, and his ears exhibited long, circular earrings that were crafted of alternating dark and light hued shell beads.

  “Deganawida, Great Sachem of the Onan Tribe, first on the seat of the Grand Council, Headman of the village of the Place of Far Seeing,” Ayenwatha announced.

  Logan regarded the regal-looking old man carefully, recalling the name from the inquiries made by Ayenwatha when they had first entered into the village. Logan felt certain that the man now standing before them was the person that had been spoken of.

  The seven occupants of the chamber arose at his entrance, giving nods and awkward bows towards Deganawida. Logan was one of the latter, not really knowing what the proper gesture of respect was for the Onan tribe’s particular culture. He endeavored not to make lingering eye contact with the old sachem, figuring that might well be taken as an affront.

  There was a hint of amusement gracing the older man’s face when Logan glanced up, as if the sachem had perceived their cultural confusion.

  “Deganawida has come here to speak with you himself… about your coming, and about your purpose here,” Ayenwatha informed the seven in a low voice. He then took a step backward into the opening to the chamber, turning and leaving Deganawida by himself with the seven.

  The old sachem looked towards the seven, regarding each one of them intently for a few moments, before moving his gaze onward to the next. To Logan, the sachem’s methodical and scrutinizing manner evoked thoughts of the blue-robed Wanderer back in the woods.

  When the sachem’s gaze encompassed him, Logan inadvertently caught the older man’s direct stare. The quality of it caused him to hesitate, despite his inclination to avoid meeting the old man’s eyes.

  The alert, penetrating look within the sachem’s sparkling, dark eyes elicited even more comparisons to the Wanderer. It was as if Deganawida was looking through Logan’s skin, to something far more inward.

  Logan had the inexplicable sensation that the tribal elder’s eyes could willfully look even deeper than his very thoughts. The feeling was quite unsettling, in that Logan was left in an unprecedented state of nakedness, one that went far beyond a mere lack of physical clothing.

  “I have heard that you are not from our lands, or any that we know of. I have heard it said that some great magic is responsible for your presence here in the tribal lands. I have also heard that you spoke with a special man, the Wanderer, who is well known to us in our lands. I would like to hear you speak more about all of these things,” Deganawida told them. His voice matched his august appearance. It was low, resonant, and, although gentle in tone, carried an unmistakable air of authority just underneath its surface.

  Logan looked to each of the others, and saw various degrees of caution and hesitancy in his companions. After a long pause, he finally took the initiative and started to relate their story to the prominent sachem.

  On the way to the village, Logan and Erika had done most of the talking on behalf of the group. This time, Janus and Derek interchanged more often with Logan and Erika, as the four fleshed out the account of their strange experience with considerable detail. Kent, Mershad, and Antonio looked apprehensive and very uncomfortable, more than content to keep quiet and let t
heir companions do the telling.

  The tribal elder showed no reactions or emotion during the telling of their story. His attention was studious and ardently focused, as if he were pondering every single word that the visitors uttered. Even after the tale had been finished, he stayed silent, and appeared to be in deep contemplation for several minutes before he finally spoke aloud again.

  “You speak of an incredible journey. One that is difficult to imagine. The gift of the Wanderer helps your speech, but I can tell by your appearances that you are not from any land that I have ever heard spoken of within this world. I do not sense any lies in your words. I do see your confusion, and I feel your fear. These are not the things I would see in a gathering whose purpose was bent upon deception and evil.

  “Yet all things within this world have both good and evil within them, to a greater or lesser amount. It lies within each of us to decide which to empower, and it is possible that you may yet have darker things hidden that I cannot yet sense.

  “Even so, I believe your words, and, as Ayenwatha has done, I can do no less than offer you a refuge and welcome within our village. I do not know if you will remain safe, even here in the midst of our people. As you have learned, the forces of the Unifier draw very near, and the skies are increasingly filled with the dark storms of war. That is something beyond your power, or ours, to determine. What will come, will come.

  “For today, you may eat well and rest. I will leave you to yourselves now, but I would like for you to join me for a feast, and a celebration of life, this very evening.”

  Deganawida then displayed a hint of a smile, one that emanated a kindly, compassionate warmth. The effect was enhanced within his dark eyes, the surfaces of which seemed to glitter from an inner light.

  While there was little doubt that Deganawida had a very intense interest in the newcomers, Logan was relieved to see the signs of an affable disposition in the tribal sachem.

  Deganawida turned and withdrew from the chamber. There was a momentary delay, as Logan strained futilely to make out the substance of a low conversation that then ensued in the adjacent chamber. Finally surrendering in his efforts, Logan stared impatiently towards the opening until Ayenwatha finally entered to rejoin them.

  “Deganawida sees good within you,” Ayenwatha greeted them with a smile. The warrior appeared to be very pleased with whatever initial evaluation the great sachem had just rendered, further allaying Logan’s anxieties. “It is our way to respect each individual as a creation of the One Spirit, but we also cannot endanger the village.

  “I will speak further with Deganawida, and it may be that you will be allowed to walk outside the village… but warriors of the village must always go with you. I hope that you understand this necessity. These are not usual times… for you, or for us. For now, rest, and soon you shall eat and drink to your fill.”

  Without further comment, or waiting for any sort of reply, Ayenwatha turned and walked out of the chamber, leaving the seven alone to themselves once more.

  Logan glanced over at his companions. He could sense that all of their moods had been given a lift upwards, likely encouraged by the favorable reaction of Deganawida, and the lightened mood that had just been exhibited by Ayenwatha.

  All of them looked to be very fatigued, a fact that quickly emerged in the conversations that then took place amongst themselves. It was unanimously, and swiftly, decided that they should all make use of the time available, and take full advantage of the chance for a little rest.

  Logan had no arguments, as there was little else to do to occupy the time. It would be a little easier to relax in their current environment. There was no need for a watch anymore, as they were under considerable guard within the center of the village, and within the longhouse itself.

  For the first time since they had come into the new world, Logan realized that there was little risk in letting his own guard down for awhile. Even so, he knew that it would still be a very hard thing to do, with every part of his being still set on edge.

  Spreading themselves throughout the two similarly arrayed halves of the chamber, the seven took their places upon the raised platforms. Using the animal skins and cornhusk mats, they wearily adjusted their positions, lay down, and gave themselves over to rest.

  Logan soon found that the harder surface of the platform was rather uncomfortable, even with mats and skins providing a buffer between his body and the bark platform. It was nonetheless a great improvement over the altogether unforgiving bare earth, on which he had restlessly spent the previous night.

  Yet the platform was not the only source of discomfort for Logan. His own stomach had begun to incur the first pangs of a steadily growing hunger. Logan’s only comfort was that he knew that when they were roused awake, the feast that had been declared by Deganawida would be imminent.

  As sorely tired as he was, the hard platform and empty stomach proved to be of little impediment. The discomforts faded along with his consciousness on his drift into a deep and welcome slumber.

  LEE

  “Ooooohhhh,” exclaimed Lee, stretching as he took in a deep breath of the new morning’s crisp air.

  Reaching down, he cupped some of the cool creek water within his hands and generously splashed it all over his face. He blinked his eyes rapidly, shuddering as the cold water trickled down his face, neck, and chest. The vibrant feel of the chilly water was instantly invigorating, melting away the lethargy that had still clung to him long after he had opened his eyes to the new day.

  Clasping his hands above his head and arching his back, he again stretched, endeavoring to rid himself of the lingering rigidity in his body that had formed as a result of sleeping for hours upon the hard, unforgiving ground. A few cracks and pops sounded as he worked his back and limbs.

  “Body stiffen up, old man?” Ryan asked, chuckling as he came up to stand at Lee’s right side. In his right hand, he held both his and Lee’s sharpened stakes. “Accommodations not good enough around here? Didn’t you request extra pillows?”

  Lee shot Ryan a bemused glance, a last few drops of water dribbling off of his face and hair. “Very, very funny, and good morning to yourself. But if you could talk to the cook, I’m starved. Or, maybe you can fix something up? Whip something together. You know I’ve taught you a few things.”

  “Supplies are low, and the wok is currently under repair,” Ryan retorted with a half-hearted grin.

  Lee could see right through the teenager’s facade of humor. The young man was feeling very grim about their meal prospects. The topic was the greatest worry weighing down upon Lee’s mind, ever since morning had arrived and confirmed that the previous day was no dream.

  “Then we need to take care of it,” Lee replied firmly.

  “What the hell can we do about it?” Ryan queried in a voice laden with frustration. He handed Lee’s stake over, adding in a lower, tense tone, “And here, we probably shouldn’t walk around without these real close at hand.”

  “What can we do about it? Take some risks. Let’s go see what we can find,” Lee responded, sounding more confident than he felt, feeling the stout, bark-covered haft of the crude weapon. He glanced down at the stake in his hand, and then over at the one in Ryan’s. “We have something to work with, at the least.”

  “What about the ladies?” Ryan asked.

  “I’ve already talked to Lynn. She was the first to get up today, evidently. Took over early from Erin’s last watch. I told Lynn to stay and watch the camp, and that we’d go and see about food. If we don’t succeed, we can switch teams whenever Erin gets up. They can give it a try,” Lee said, stepping to the brim of the creek’s bank.

  He looked across to where the water trundled along the brim of the far bank, gauging the distance.

  “I’d bet it’ll be awhile before that girl gets up,” Ryan remarked sarcastically.

  “I’d bet too. Which is why we should go now, while we are ready and rested,” Lee responded.

  With a leap, he hurtled the span
of the creek. His feet squished into the soft footing on the opposite side, splattering a little mud and water all around.

  “Coming?” Lee inquired of Ryan, turning back towards the youth.

  Ryan tensed, took a step, and propelled himself across, his youthful spring and longer legs taking him a little farther than Lee. Lee winced as Ryan descended, fully resigned to being amply covered with splotches of mud. Fortunately, Ryan landed upon a more solid swathe of ground, and did not spatter Lee with the impact of his landing.

  “The question really is, are you ready?” Ryan asked Lee, sparks of excitement reflected in his eyes. “Hmmmm, old man?”

  Lee was glad to see the flair of youthful adventure within Ryan’s face, as his own mind was more oriented upon the very troublesome concerns regarding their unfamiliarity with the immediate environment and its denizens. He wished that he could embrace it all more like an adventure, and was not about to do anything to dampen Ryan’s current spiritedness.

  “Yes, yes, the old man is ready,” Lee replied with sharp sarcasm.

  Ryan took a step away from the bank. He pointed the sharp end of his stake towards the depths of the woods beyond, while looking back at Lee.

  “Then shall we?” he asked, with raised eyebrows and a grin.

  “Just remember, use gestures from here on out,” Lee said, holding his finger to his mouth as he stepped by Ryan. “We make enough noise moving. Let’s try and not add to it.”

  Ryan nodded as they set forth together. The two of them stepped softly, both careful in their efforts to remain as silent as possible.

  Lee did not want to wander very far from the camp, as the last thing that needed to happen was for them to become lost. He took great care to make several mental notes of their surroundings. He pinpointed their pathway as best as he could, cataloging distinctive landmarks in the forms of certain trees, as well as some uniquely shaped rocks. Committing them to memory, he knew that the natural signs would be their lifeline on the way back.