Dream of Legends (83 page)

A sense of dread then clutched Ayenwatha’s gut, as he saw so many warriors racing forward. The sight spurred his own feeling of panic, after Midragardan sky riders gliding overhead began to blast out urgent signals upon their horns.

Ayenwatha cried out to stop as many warriors as he could from going forward, tribal and Midragardan alike, knowing the sky riders had espied the cause for his uneasy feeling. Beyond the hills on the other side, the disciplined Avanoran knights had demonstrated their acute sense for the ebbs and flows of a battle. With the penetration, cut-off and encirclement of the forefront of the force, and the chaotic retreat by those immediately behind, they had rallied a number of crossbowmen and archers to prepare themselves for the inevitable pursuit.

A fair number of Midragardans were so caught up in the heat of combat, and first tastes of victory, that they strayed far into the grounds beyond the other side of the hills before they even began to sense that something terrible was amiss.

The air was filled a moment latter with a sibilant hissing.

The Midragardan warriors were riddled by a streaking host of bolts that punched through shirts of chain mail, as well as a flurry of arrows fitted with mail-piercing heads. Many Midragardans were knocked and spun off of their feet by the powerful bolts. Their anguished cries rang out to the skies, as they clutched at the shafts buried deep within the flesh of their bodies. A few more were killed trying to help wounded comrades, as all that could struggled desperately to retreat back down the channel between the hills.

Ayenwatha quickly sent tribal archers back up the slopes of the two hills, and soon some arrows of their own were beginning to fall among the reassembled enemy ranks. Fortunately, the enemy’s overall stomach for fighting was gone, at least for the time being. They had been sorely bloodied by the unanticipated attack from the combined tribal and Midragardan forces.

When the Midragardans pulled back, and ceased their pursuit, the Galleans began an orderly retreat, abandoning the vicinity of the two low hills. Ayenwatha resisted any temptations at further pursuit. Overall, the defenders had attained a victory, though the Midragardans had been bloodied themselves at the end.

Ayenwatha was greatly relieved when he saw that Gunnar had survived the blunder at the end of the fighting. The big Midragardan had been amply anointed in the waters of battle, with blood and sweat covering his face. As he saw Ayenwatha striding up, he cast him a rueful grin.

“It is good to see you,” Ayenwatha exclaimed.

“We were too reckless, a terrible lesson, and one to be remembered,” Gunnar commented gruffly.

“Still a victory has been gained. The enemy was pushed back, and they lost many,” Ayenwatha said, eyeing all of the bodies littering the ground nearby. He did not have to take any count to know that the bodies of invaders far outnumbered those of fallen defenders.

Gunnar nodded grimly. “Yes, a victory, but we had losses that did not need to be suffered.”

Long, undulating wolf howls suddenly came upon the winds, bringing both men to an extended pause. An icy fear ran up Ayenwatha’s spine, as a massive roar shook the forest just a moment later.

Ayenwatha looked off in the direction of the haunting sounds, as his brow furrowed. Most creatures of the forest should have long since fled the area, with so many humans moving about the vicinity.

Ayenwatha looked to his Midragardan friend with puzzlement etched on his face. There was something subtle and different about the tone of the howls from the calls of the wolves that lived in the tribal regions. The deep roar that had followed was undoubtedly bear-like, but yet different in tone from the vocalizations of the natural inhabitants.

“Seems that not everyone’s day is done,” Gunnar remarked, with a knowing grin. He nodded towards the area strewn with Gallean bodies. “I can only say that these invaders were probably the luckier, in regard to the opponents that they were made to face this day.”

Ayenwatha looked towards Gunnar with a sense of amazement, as another huge roar, and more deep howls, resounded within the woodlands.

*

Deganawida

*

Both Bregas and Fenraren were used to ferry the exalted Great Sachems in, from points everywhere around the tribal regions. Some of them had been difficult to locate with the ongoing evacuation of the villages near the western border regions of the Five Realms. Many of the Great Sachems had never before flown upon sky steeds, but all understood the great urgency of the situation, and endured the unfamilar travel method as best they could.

The makeshift Grand Council was being held under the open sky, in a small clearing illuminated by the bright ambience of the afternoon sun. It was as ideal of a setting as could be had, given the less than ideal circumstances.

A Council Fire had been lit, the wood crackling to life from the flames of the Sacred Fire. The sachems from the Onan, Kanienke, and Onondowa sat to one side, while those from the Gayogohon and the Onyota were arrayed on the other. The Older Brothers and the Younger Brothers were together again, uniting the tribal family. An empty pole had been erected near to the fire, and, as nobody had yet spoken, no wampum belt had yet been hung upon it.

All fifty sachems of the Grand Council were in attendance, to Deganawida’s great happiness and sheer amazement, as he had been watching them arrive with overriding anxiety, until the last was present. With their deer antler headdresses gracing their heads, their voices rose in unison, in a traditional expression of thanksgiving to the One Spirit.

Deganawida clutched the wampum belt that displayed the image of a man with an inner flame in his right hand. In the other, he gripped the bundle of five arrows signifying his honored status.

He drew strength from the familiar feel of the wampum, the sight of the sachems, and the sounds of chanting prayers and songs that filled the early portion of the Grand Council. It did much to soothe his troubled spirits, and evoked a state of mind that was better readied for the deliberation at hand.

Once the more ritualistic segment of the Council had been concluded, Deganawida slowly stepped forward into the midst of the fifty sachems.

“My Brothers, fortune has indeed been with us this past day,” Deganawida began, as he walked closer to the blazing fire. His eyes methodically scanned the circumference of the gathering, taking in each and every sachem gathered. “The invaders have been slowed and stopped in many areas. They have been greatly wounded, but they will regroup and their attacks will resume soon. This Council has been called mainly for one purpose, in order to seek consensus on one matter.

“Gunnar, acknowledged war leader of our Midragardan brothers, desires to speak to the sachems of our Council about this matter. These are not ordinary times. Much is happening that is not in our traditional way. Please understand this, as he speaks to the Grand Council … and please listen to him. I ask Gunnar, friend to the Five Realms, now to come forth, to speak freely, and to tell us what he will.”

Sitting just beyond the edge of the ring of sachems, Gunnar bowed his head somberly at Deganawida’s acknowledgement. He slowly pushed himself up to his feet and walked forward, moving carefully through the sachems to where Deganawida was standing.

Deganawida laid a hand upon Gunnar’s shoulder for a moment and nodded, before quietly moving back among the sachems and sitting down. Gunnar looked around at the Grand Council, as he readied himself to address the assembled Great Sachems.

Deganawida noticed that Gunnar had adhered to the fastidious attention to appearance that all the Midragardans tended to embrace. His hair was no longer matted and disheveled. The long locks were neatly combed out, as was his beard. His face held none of the caked blood and grime that had looked almost like tribal war paint at the end of the previous day’s fighting.

He had even managed to get a change of tunic since the battle, perhaps borrowing the cleanest one that he could find among his warriors.

There was no question that the Midragardan chieftain had fought valiantly the previous day. The enemy advance had been halted for the first time since they had entered the woods. From all accounts, all of the Midragardans had fought with the skill and fury that had long ago fashioned their reputation for martial prowess.

Gunnar’s hands descended as he produced a wampum medallion from a metal-framed leather pouch at his belt. It was a purple medallion, with a white image of the sun displayed upon it. Deganawida remembered when it had first been given to Gunnar, so very long ago, when the Midragardian chieftain had begun his long and amiable trading relationship with the Five Realms.

The medallion symbolized good and truthful relations, and the particular wampum medallion that Gunnar now held was imbued with years of faithful and honest interactions with the tribes. His mere presence at the Council testified powerfully enough to the kind of relation that he had attained with the five tribes.

Gunnar held the medallion high. “I know some things of your ways, Great Sachems of the Grand Council. I know that it is a custom of a speaker to hang his wampum belt from the pole when addressing the Council, and then to take it from the pole when finished. As I wish to honor your ways, with what I can, and however I can, I bring this, my only wampum, which I have received myself from the Five Realms. I will use this as my belt, as what I come to say to you now is spoken with truth in my heart. If I err in your customs, please regard only my intent, and not my practice.”

The gesture caught Deganawida a little by surprise, but he was very impressed with the Midgardan’s keen insight. While wholly unexpected, the meaning of Gunnar’s gesture would be understood, and it would be respected, and received well, by the Great Sachems.

It showed that Gunnar had not come to the Council with casual regard for the tribes, but was trying as much as possible to speak to them in a way that let them know that he truly cared for their plight.

His manner of speech itself would also reinforce his words, as many of the sachems were likely very surprised at hearing Gunnar’s fluid mastery of the Quoian language.

Deganawida could remember the stumbling, crude period when Gunnar was first learning the tribal language. He often had to stifle a laugh, whenever Gunnar inadvertently had made a ludicrous statement, as he tried to gain a command of the Quoian tongue.

Other tribal members showed less discipline, falling into hilarity at some of the Midragardan’s awkward, mistake-riddled comments. Thankfully Gunnar was always good humored, and laughed heartily with them when it was pointed out what he had actually said.

Yet Deganawida had always kept his own expressions of humor to a minimum, as he had a profound respect for the fact that Gunnar was working so hard to speak to the tribal people using their words. It had always showed that the Midragardan sincerely respected the people of the Five Realms.

Gunnar’s diligence in learning had certainly produced a prodigious harvest, as he rarely made a mistake anymore when speaking the tribal tongue. His hard-earned fluency now bolstered the integrity of the message he was delivering before the Grand Council.

Gunnar waited a few moments more after showing the wampum medallion, and moved to place it upon the empty pole before resuming his address. Once it was displayed upon the pole, his voice then carried the grave sincerity that loomed behind his portentous words.

“Brothers in the One that created all of us, the Unifier will surely come back, as Deganawida has said. They will be better prepared the next time, and will come back much stronger than before.

“They will seek to turn your own lands into a place to trap you, and destroy you to the last. They seek to drive you into the seas. I can offer help out of this, but it is a very difficult thing that I ask of you. If I thought that there was any another way, I would say so. But it is my advice that your people leave these lands for a time, and come with us upon our ships. We can reach the islands where my people have homesteads. They can be a haven for your people, for now.

“In time, we can plan a way to return, and look to take back these lands. I promise you that I will seek to gather more strength to help you. But with the men that I have brought, and the warriors available to you here, we cannot overcome the force that has come against us. Our sky riders have learned much more about what is arrayed against you. The enemy is far too strong, and grows stronger each day, while we will grow weaker.”

Deganawida looked around at the sachems, quietly reading their faces. Gunnar had just asked them to do the seemingly unthinkable. Withdrawing from their villages and moving deeper into the woods was one matter. Fully abandoning the lands that they and their ancestors had occupied for thousands of years was quite another.

“We can be like a shield for your people, and fight as we move them towards the Shimmering River, where the longships are beached,” Gunnar continued. “We can use the ocean as our ally. They will then have to come over the seas to get at us, whether we stay upon islands, or go onward to Midragard itself.

“Your tribes are bordered on land by kingdoms that look to your destruction. There is nothing to stop the invaders from coming into your lands, or having more supplies and warriors brought to them. We can defend much better in forcing them to have to cross water and land on another shore. Perhaps we can even deliver a crippling blow to any vessels they may try to send after us.

“As a chieftain among my people, this is my counsel to all of you. Please let me know what you decide. I desire to help you and your people in this time of terrible danger.”

Gunnar then gave a low bow to the sachems of the Older Brothers on one side of the Sacred Fire, and then turned and bowed to the sachems of the Younger Brothers on the other. He quietly walked over, and took up his small wampum medallion from the pole, and continued back to where he had been sitting before Deganawida had summoned him. Without another word, he took a seat upon the ground and looked on with a solemn expression upon his face.