Logan

When daylight finally arrived, it was accompanied by a faint tremor that reverberated steadily through the ground.

A sound like the distant rumbling of thunder, heralding a faraway storm, traveled through the early morning air. After a little time had passed, it became quite evident that both the noise and the potency of the tremors were increasing.

Logan, whose own restlessness had prompted him to take the final watch of the night with Derek, affording Erika a little more rest, had readily noticed the first subtle disturbances. The night had passed without incident, though the relative tranquility had not lulled the senses of either of them into complacency during their appointed watch.

Their presence in an utterly foreign world had helped to keep Logan’s own senses keen to the slightest sound or aberration. Furthermore, as Logan had come to appreciate, Derek already possessed an exceptionally alert, very disciplined disposition.

There was little incentive to any other orientation anyway, as, to Logan’s perspective, there was not much comfort to be had at hand. When he had decided to ask Erika to take over for the final watch shift, his back had felt like it had been transformed into dry wood after struggling in vain to sleep for a few scant hours upon the hard, unforgiving ground. Even after much stretching, there still were some serious kinks in his back that he had not yet been able to work out.

Logan and Derek’s looks of apprehension had increased, as the rumbles grew ever louder and the vibrations became stronger. Logan’s own unease stemmed from the feeling that the seeming thunder did not have the usual quality of a natural storm. He dreaded to think about what kind of unwelcome surprise might be greeting them, to start off this new day in an utterly strange land.

Mershad rose up from the ground nearby, where he had recently adjusted his orientation towards the light of the rising sun. He had just concluded some prayers, his pre-dawn prostration instantly revealing to Logan that Mershad was of the Islamic faith.

Mershad’s widened eyes and nervous demeanor reflected how he was feeling about the vibrations and rumbles. He looked to Logan and Derek, and all three nodded solemnly to each other as an unspoken consensus was reached.

Without sparing a further moment, the three roused all of the others from their slumber. The tremors persisted all the while, continuing in an unrelenting, ascending pulsation.

“What is it?” Kent asked Logan, groaning as he was shaken firmly upon the shoulder.

Logan backed out of Kent’s way, urging, “Get up! Something’s happening!”

Kent looked to be in a very disheveled state as he emerged out from under the makeshift shelter, a nervous frown upon his face as he squinted into the bright morning light. His eyes darted about warily as he became more cognizant of the disturbing sensations. The audible rumbles and shaking in the ground brought an increasingly apprehensive look to Kent’s face.

“I have no idea what it is,” Logan replied to Kent’s unvoiced query.

“That’s not like any storm or earthquake that I have ever been around before,” Kent remarked to Logan and Derek, as the latter approached them.

“No, it isn’t,” Derek replied curtly.

“It doesn’t recede or ebb,” Erika added firmly, as she came over to stand by them, her eyes already quite awake and alert.

Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, methodically looking to all directions. She finally squared her body almost directly towards the west, where the trio of Janus, Kent, and Derek had originally entered the borders of the forest.

“I’m pretty sure that it is coming from out there, straight in that direction,” she declared, pointing off through the trees. “And surprises aren’t always good. Maybe we should look into it for ourselves … before something looks into us.”

Antonio and Janus had emerged into the morning light by then, crawling out from deeper within the crude shelter of branches and foliage. They were swiftly brought up to date by the others, as a frown darkened Janus’ countenance, and anxiety gripped Antonio’s.

One by one, the others all looked about, concentrating upon the strength of the sounds and vibrations. Logan and the others gradually arrived at their own best conclusions, and announced them in turn, collectively finding that Erika was entirely correct in her assessment.

The increasing rumbles hailed to them through the forest from the immediate west.

“Come on then!” Derek pressed the others adamantly. “Erika’s right. We need to find out. I don’t like surprises to begin with, and I like to at least know what I’m facing, especially if some potential trouble is afoot.”

Logan nodded in agreement, before declaring, “I’ll come with you, Derek.”

Mershad and Erika then volunteered in turn, right before Antonio spoke up.

“Shouldn’t a couple of us stay back at the camp?” Antonio inquired, looking nervous. “And I’m not the fastest runner, if you guys need to get back here in a hurry.”

“And neither am I,” Kent then added, with a veneer of clear diffidence.

Logan glanced over at Derek, who was looking more impatient by the second. Logan understood where Kent’s trepidation came from. From talking to Derek, he knew that Kent had already been through quite an ordeal when he had become stranded alone for a brief time in the new world.

“Maybe a few of us should stay here, to keep an eye on our camp,” Logan suggested. He then eyed Janus and Kent. “Maybe you two should say here with Antonio. Leave at least three together.”

“Fine with me,” Kent responded, looking a little relieved at not being compelled to court potential danger right away.

Janus looked a little reluctant to stay behind, a slight frown returning to his face, but finally nodded after a long pause.

“Then we’re decided,” Derek said bluntly. He clapped his hands together sharply, the noise cracking the air loudly in the tense atmosphere. “Come on, let’s get going! Let’s get near to the treeline, and we’ll see what comes next.”

Breaking into a run, Derek took the lead and bolted off for the edge of the forest to the west. Needing no further inspiration, Logan, Erika, and Mershad followed immediately after him, running hard a few steps behind.

Derek outran all three of the others, covering the distance to the forest’s edge rather quickly. He slowed down only when the trees had started to noticeably thin. Finally coming to a complete stop, he then crept forward silently and carefully from a crouched position towards the outermost edge of the trees.

Erika was the next to arrive in the vicinity, followed by Logan, and then Mershad. They each slowed as they neared Derek, stalking up towards him and silently taking a cue from his manifest caution. They each emulated his form as best as they could, Logan and Erika having more success in the endeavor than Mershad, whose efforts at stealthier movement appeared a little awkward.

Derek glanced back occasionally to note their progress, saying nothing, and evidently satisfied at the wary approach that the others were taking. Even so, there was something in Derek’s gaze that caught Logan’s attention, though the man’s face continued to remain impassive as they crept up to his position.

The reason for the strange look within Derek’s eyes became abundantly clear just a few moments later.

Through a break in the trees, Logan beheld the grassy plain beyond. His eyes widened in reflex at the incredible sight that abruptly swamped his eyes. His breath was also snatched away by the unexpected, overwhelming vision erupting boldly before the four shocked observers.

The massive scene spread out upon the plains was simply staggering in scope, difficult to absorb as it bombarded the senses, and almost impossible to believe. Where the open grassland swept out towards the far horizons, there was a gargantuan, moving presence.

Without question, it was the source of the sonorous rumbles, as well as the substantial tremors that continued to course through the ground.

Sprawling out right before their eyes was the passage of a vast army on the march, many thousands in number. Even more astounding, it appeared to be an army from an age that Logan would have thought to be long lost within the mists of time.

It was as if the pages of medieval history had vibrantly come to life within this astounding new world. At his side, Mershad gasped in undeniable awe, as a wave of lightheadedness flowed through Logan. He struggled to make some sense out of what he was seeing, his mind and heart racing. Not a single word was shared among the four observers.

Logan and the others gradually recovered from their momentary trance brought on by the enormous spectacle. Derek was the first to come back to full focus, lowering himself slowly to the ground and beckoning for the others to do likewise.

Once they were all prostrate, they crawled forward on their bellies with Derek until they were close behind the trunks of the trees nearest to the edge of the grassy, windswept expanse. Logan’s form grew rigidly still after he halted, a combination of wonder and fear fixing him firmly in place.

Even if he had the eyes of a hawk, Logan would still have been overwhelmed at the variety of sights, not to mention the sheer size of the column of warriors that meandered far beyond the limits of his vision to the south. He was already resigned to settling in for an extended duration. With the column’s size and rate of march, Logan estimated that it would take a very long time for the entire army to pass by their position. The immensity of the scene wholly enveloped his attention, and he did not so much as cast a glance towards his companions.

Stretching far off to the left, well past the edge of his range of vision, was a continuous stream of warriors. Some mounted, and many others on foot, all were arrayed in an organized, column formation. The fresh daylight glinted in abundance, reflecting off steel all the way down the incredible length of the column.

The bristling expanse of spears in view resembled a new, deadlier version of the rolling grasslands that the army was passing through. Unlike the abundant, swaying grasses all around the column, the tract of upright blades of iron grass was not swayed in the least by the billowing winds.

Leading the extensive column was a vanguard of mounted warriors, iron helms shining brightly underneath a host of fluttering banners and pennons.

The forms of their horses exuded strength, the equines all displaying a sleek, well-cared for appearance as they traveled forward at an easy gait. Many of the horses were garbed in white caparisons, which appeared to have a quilted or padded design to them.

The riders in the vanguard were all clad in what looked to be black woolen habits, fitted with hoods that were currently pulled back. Upon the left breasts of the riders’ habits, on their red banners and pennons, and rendered upon the black facings of the long triangular or almond-shaped shields, slung over their backs via guige straps, was the image of a white, upright spear.

Carrying long lances, the warriors all had swords sheathed in the scabbards at their waists.

Logan watched the vanguard contingent trot by with rapt interest. It was still difficult for him to fully accept that he was really witnessing such a remarkable sight, even as the ground steadily vibrated beneath his body.

The black-garbed mounted force was followed soon after by a great number of marching foot soldiers. The masses of infantry provided a living screen of protection for the extensive baggage train in their midst.

Four-wheeled wagons and two-wheeled carts rumbled forward slowly, some pulled by horses and others by teams of plodding oxen. Wagon drivers used shouts and long switches to spur the brawny creatures forward. Packhorses laden down with all manner of hide pouches, water skins, and other materials trundled along among the wheeled elements of the baggage train.

Many of the marching figures in the looser throng surrounding the carts and wagons carried spears, while others held crossbows or bows. Several were bearing a very unique type of long-hafted axe, guisarmes with lengthy, curved blades.

Two distinct lines of marching figures strode in disciplined order along the forest-side of the baggage train. The men of the inner line were all bearing crossbows, the belt hooks used for loading them jangling downward from their waists.

Just outside of them in an even line was a file of spearmen with tall, rectangular shields. Mail-coated, with iron half-helms, they formed a living screen for the crossbowmen to their left.

The orderly lines of spearmen and crossbowmen warily eyed the forest’s edge, compelling Logan to not move a muscle lest the cascade of eyes sweeping along the edge of the trees take notice of him.

Out from the flank closest to the outskirts of the forest were intermittent formations of mounted warriors. Logan could not help but think that many of the riders in these periodic bands were knights.

The particular riders catching Logan’s eyes exhibited an unrivaled splendor that was set well apart from all others in the column, whether on foot, or with them on horse. Logan found his eyes roving from one impressive form to another, each one a grand sight in and of themselves.

Several individuals displayed matching colors between their sleeveless, knee-length surcoats, triangular shield facings, and the draping bards adorning their war stallions. Luxuriant blues, vibrant reds, bright yellows, deep greens, and other lush hues formed the bases of their rich trappings.

Some of these warriors had additional designs displayed on their outer surcoats, shields, and bards. Stylized lions clawed viciously at unseen adversaries, while great birds of prey spread their beaks apart, loosing piercing battle cries. Dragons opened their mighty jaws wide, as if about to loose torrents of scorching flame. Wolves bared their knife-like fangs menacingly, caught in mid-bound as they raced across some invisible terrain.

On other shields, surcoats, and caparisons, the displays were simpler. Straight bars, chevrons, and other geometric elements were set in various arrangements against the solid hues of their backgrounds.

The stately riders, like those of less prominent appearance accompanying them, had their heads turned towards the forest. The expressions of many knights were hidden behind the iron visors of cylindrical half-helms, or encompassed within full great helms, flat-topped and barrel-round.

After watching the procession of warriors for quite some time, Logan’s eyes were drawn towards an exceptionally sizeable banner pulled forth by a large team of burly oxen. The great banner undulated in the robust breezes from the top of a high mast, exhibiting a prominent sigil upon its surface.

It was of a golden fleur-de-lis. Set against a deep blue background, the proud image of the fleur-de-lis was striking to behold.

The stout wagon trundled onward, carrying the banner along with it to the north, and the river of warriors continued to flow by for what seemed to be an interminable length of time to Logan. Without needing to count, he knew with surety that several thousand men had already passed by their position. He longed to stretch his tightening limbs, doing his utmost to block out of his mind any physical discomforts that arose in the extended duration.

Lying on his belly in a prone position was fortuitous in that he was not in a more contorted pose that might have quickly become unbearable to maintain. He was even able to prop his head up on the back of his arms, though he did so very slowly and cautiously.

He had no other choice available other than to wait with his equally silent companions, continuing their prolonged vigil at the edge of the forest. Even modest movements were very likely to be seen by the more diligent elements of the marching force. It was nerve-wracking enough worrying about discovery, even being as rigidly still as he was.

Just as Logan grew acclimated to the sight of the marching formation and his nerves had settled a little more, another unexpected, and breathtaking, element manifested. The hairs immediately stood out on the nape of his neck as the first of many utterly strange, fearsome-looking creatures started appearing shortly beyond the mid-way juncture of the huge force’s passage.

Even farther out towards the forest from the core of the dense marching column, pacing lithely along the ground, were what looked to be a type of massive, dark-furred cat. The great beasts were noticeably larger than an adult male lion, which was the closest animal that Logan could relate the burly felines to. There were several of the stunning beasts in the first wave to come into view, stepping with feline grace and brimming with powerful muscularity.

The powerful cats’ broad heads turned from side to side, their ears twitching separately and reactively, in sharp alertness to every sound. An extensive, wicked-looking set of frontal canines was visible, fully exposed and descending to sharp points just below their great jaws. The veritable daggers gave the creatures an appearance acutely reminiscent of the prehistoric sabretooths whose images Logan had often pored over with fascination as a child.

Proud of posture, the impressive creatures were restrained by long, thick leather cords, attached to iron-studded collars fitted around their ample necks. The leashes were held at the opposite ends in the firm grips of handlers of a very unusual appearance, who jogged effortlessly behind the steady gait of the cats.

The handlers were as fascinating as the great sabretoothed cats, and Logan stared at them in wonder and disbelief. They were of the same race as the small contingent of warriors that came up close behind the first group of great cats. There were around a hundred of the peculiar, bi-pedal creatures in all, including both the handlers and the armed company.

Their appearance was like that of a large rodent that could walk upright, like a human. Their height was many inches shorter than that of average human adults, the taller ones among them being only about five feet tall. A coat of coarse, dark fur fully covered bodies that were lean and sinewy, with long, narrow limbs.

The extraordinary creatures walked with a discernable spring to their every step, evidencing a natural supremacy of agility in relation to their nearby human companions.

The rodent-like creatures, or rat-men, were clad in what looked to be close-fitting, dark tunics that ended just below their midsections, tied above their hips with narrow hide belts. Their clothing was otherwise scanty, as they wore no type of footwear or other significant pieces of attire. A few hints of smaller adornments, largely in the form of snug-fitting neck rings, could be seen amongst them.

Most of the rat-men carried thin javelins, which they rested in small clusters upon their shoulders as they trotted forward. Others had short quivers affixed to their belts, with strung bows scaled to their more diminutive size that were carried over their shoulders. Simple leather sheaths affixed to their belts held what looked to be lengthy daggers, or perhaps short swords.

Their high-pitched, chittering voices carried faintly across the air to Logan and the others, as the larger company of rat-men passed by their hiding spot, following in the wake of their cat-handling brethren.

While the huge cats and the rat-beings were shocking enough in appearance, it was the presence of a third variety of inhuman creature whose emergence brought Logan’s breath to a momentary standstill. He almost had to remind himself to allow air into his lungs, as awed as he was by the newest sight in the column.

Logan could barely believe his own senses, as a group of monstrosities lumbered up into plain sight from the far end of the column. Though few in number, the gigantic brutes would easily have sufficed to serve as a rear guard all by themselves.

Like the rat-men, they were also marching a little farther out to the side of the humans. The enormous creatures trod by the men rapidly, taking huge strides up the flank of the main column. Horses whinnied and snorted in agitation, and many of the men cast fearful glances in the direction of the daunting entities.

The collective presence of the striding juggernauts was awesome to behold, and Logan could not imagine anything that could offer a challenge to such mighty beings. Towering over the tallest of the men, including those mounted upon great steeds, the behemoth creatures moved on powerfully muscled, thick legs that looked to be as stout as tree trunks.

Easily over nine hundred pounds on average, the massive creatures had a dark, greenish outer hide. They were clad in little more than crudely fashioned, short-sleeved hide tunics that extended down to the tops of their bulky knees. The earthen-hued tunics were slit at the sides up to the waist, having a protective quality in that the hide they were fashioned from was thick, and of a toughened constitution.

Resting upon bullish necks, their great heads featured elongated snouts, which exhibited thick, short tusks that sprouted prominently up from their lower jaws. Deep-set eyes peered out from underneath pronounced brow ridges. A dense, bristly mane of hair started high on their heads and ran down the back of their necks, giving the creatures a natural crest.

Brawny, bulging arms gripped oversized, single-bladed war axes, or great iron maces with flanged heads, not one of which could have been wielded by the strongest of humans within the entire column. The thick hafts of the mighty weapons rested upon the beasts’ broad shoulders as they carried them along.

Logan began to notice that all of the creatures had what looked like great scars running along their upper right arms. He would have attributed the blemishes to the beasts’ coarse appearances, if it were not for the fact that many of the creatures had scars bearing an uncannily close resemblance to those of others within their group. To him, there was little chance that the groups of scars sharing very similar shapes were mere coincidences.

The largest among the massive beasts strode at the forefront of the awe-inspiring group. It wore a longer-sleeved hide tunic of a decidedly better craftsmanship, further differentiating the beast from its other hulking brethren.

The exceptional creature glanced back occasionally at the others, glowering, growling angrily, or erupting with a few harsh, unintelligible words.

By their reactions and postures, it was very clear to Logan that the other brutish creatures readily deferred to the greater one’s authority. There was absolutely no sign of challenge or resistance to their obvious leader.

Logan had previously noticed that there had been a considerable amount of conversation occurring among the human infantry with the baggage train. Aside from the ordered, more attentive lines of spearmen and crossbowmen to their right, many of the marching men had relaxed expressions and casual postures as they interacted with each other. It was now apparent that most of the humans were greatly discomfited by the close proximity of the huge, bestial warriors.

The humans grew pensively silent, a hush falling over them as they nervously watched the contingent of gigantic creatures, around a dozen in number, tromp heavily by them. Even the throngs of mounted warriors, including the proud-looking ones of a knightly character, seemed to shy away from the beasts by angling their mounts closer to the main column, or spurring themselves farther ahead.

Only when the giant brutes had gone well past them did the humans in the main column begin to resume their interactions again; and even that seemed to be done with great hesitancy.

Packhorses, a great number of lightly clad riders, more throngs of infantry, and a couple more of the mounted contingents with knightly elements followed the baggage train, before the far end of the column came into sight at last.

Logan set his eyes upon the final contingent, feeling a wave of relief pass over him at the recognition of the column’s end. He was aching to move his limbs and taut muscles, though he was firmly resolved to remain still until the last of the force had traveled well past his group.

Trotting in formation, and bringing up the rear, the mounted warriors echoed the vanguard in that they had a very cohesive appearance, with a paucity of variation in their attire and equipment.

Most of the riders were garbed in white surcoats, and the rest in black ones, all of which bore the image of a red, upright spear affixed just over the left breast. They carried lances and swords, similar to those in the leading formation. Their limbs were fully covered in mail, with many having added protection on the thighs and knees.

Also like those in the forefront of the column, the warriors of the rearguard displayed a distinctive design upon their numerous pennons, banners, and facings of their wide, triangular shields. Roughly the upper quarter of the banners, pennons, and shields was solid black, with the rest of the ensigns being white.

A slight variant on this arrangement was in evidence, in which the colors were reversed in their position, and equal in proportion to each other. These latter versions contained an additional element, a black spear that was placed atop the white background of the upper half.

The black and white arrangement on the shields, pennons, and banners was combined with the red on white scheme on the rider’s white surcoats in the trappers covering their elegant mounts. The red spear image graced the neck and hindquarters on a white portion of the trapper that encompassed the horses’ heads, necks, and the upper half of their bodies. The lower half of the equine garb was solid black.

The faces that Logan could see among the men of the final group were uniformly bearded, and of steely countenance, as they rode tall in their saddles, scanning the forest’s edge continuously with their eyes.

The rearguard contingent was not overly numerous, soon proceeding by Logan and the others as they left the plains open once again and followed the rest of the great force heading due north. It was still quite some time before there was any hint of movement or discussion among the four observers.

Logan stared off towards the end of the column as it headed away, gradually growing smaller in the distance. The ground still reverberated underneath, but he could tell that vibrations were beginning to ebb in strength.

He was still incredulous at what he had just witnessed over the past few hours. It was as if something of an astonishing nature had been summoned right from the depths of a long-forgotten history, to live and breathe in the world once again. Yet the history that Logan was familiar with did not contain everything that had been present within that huge, marching army.

“I think that we should head back … right now,” Logan suggested at long last, speaking in little more than a whisper as the rearguard of the column shrank to the cusp of vanishing from sight, far off to the right.

Logan glanced at his companions, and quickly saw that he had voiced the inner sentiments of the other three with him. He received nods from them in response, with no arguments.

Peering from the ground level, where he was positioned behind the thick, arching roots of one of the trees, Derek held up a hand for the others to wait. He looked away and remained fixated upon the end of the column until it was no longer in sight. All the while, Logan noticed that Derek’s jaws were clenched in rigid tension, reflecting an intense level of concentration.

The sight of Derek’s great pensiveness helped to mitigate Logan’s impatience to fully stretch out his muscles and return back to the campsite. He did not doubt that Derek had a good purpose for his continued delay, trusting to the other’s judgment as he was from a military background.

Derek’s head then slowly swiveled in the direction where the army had come from, staring off resolutely towards the south for several minutes. To Logan, the passing of those few minutes seemed like hours, but he did not disturb Derek’s scrutiny.

“Keep it very slow, and keep it low,” Derek finally told the others in a subdued, yet adamant tone, his words unmistakably akin to an order. “Back up on the ground, and maintain your low profile. Use your whole body, from your knees to your arms. No matter what, no quick movements. We’re taking no chances.”

Logan did not blame Derek for the extreme caution, his mind still swimming with images of the massive column and its extraordinary non-human elements. Though the column was now well into the distance, the sounds of its passage and the vibrations had not faded entirely. The lingering sensations were good reminders to not let down his guard.

Derek kept up his wary vigil while the others began to move backwards. Crawling upon his belly, Logan wiggled methodically farther and farther back away from outer edges of the forest.

“No quick movements,” Derek repeated again as the others carefully progressed. “And don’t rise up until I tell you to.”

Derek finally began to move back from the last of the trees, after the others had covered a modest distance. He moved a little more quickly, elbows and knees working in efficient concert, and soon caught up to Logan.

“Keep it low, and keep going,” Derek reiterated as he slowed down to keep pace with the other three.

Logan glanced over at Derek, and saw that he was staring hard at each of them to convey the gravity of his meaning. He gave a curt nod of acknowledgement to Derek in response.

Mershad and Erika were also faithfully doing as Derek wished, working slowly and meticulously towards the relative concealment of the deeper forest shadows. The wooded depths offered the promise of shielding the quartet from the eyes of anything out on the plains, and Logan could not avail himself of that reassuring shroud of tree and brush a moment too soon.

Logan’s heart continued to beat fast as they crept backwards, his renewing fears causing him to half-imagine that shrill cries of discovery would erupt at any given moment. He blanched thinking about one of the green-hided brutes storming down upon him, swinging one of those great iron maces down upon his vulnerable flesh and bones. One thunderous blow from such a huge weapon, wielded with the kind of force that the lumbering hulks were undoubtedly capable of, would reduce him to pulp in an instant.

The group did not cease in their crawling until they were well out of sight of the grassy plains. Logan’s elbows were scraped up from the extended, rough contact with the debris-strewn ground. Some small insects had also managed to climb up onto him, which he brushed off vigorously as he felt the tingle of their steps upon his bare arms.

Derek finally signaled to the others that they could safely rise from the ground level. Quietly, they all got up to their feet, took a moment to stretch, and readied to continue back towards their makeshift camp.

It felt good just to stand again, though Logan had to contend with a slight wave of disorientation after having endured such an extended period of rigid concentration in a prone position.

While regaining his equilibrium, Logan was momentarily startled by the sudden flutter of a couple of large ravens. His heart leapt in his chest as the two birds lifted off of a tree branch that he and his companions were crossing under. Seeing the dark birds flying off swiftly into the forest, Logan closed his eyes and breathed out a long sigh of relief. His rattled nerves began to settle back as prepared to resume his forward step, simply glad to see the feathered denizens rather than massive forms bristling with muscles, claws, and sabre-long teeth.

“We can risk a faster pace,” Derek then told them, also having twirled about in quick reflex at the abrupt commotion caused by the two sizeable ravens. Logan could see hints of relief reflected in the stoic man’s face.

After taking a couple of moments to regroup and regain their composure, the four picked up their pace behind Derek until they were back in a full run. Logan’s shoes pounded on the forest floor, as he focused his eyes upon Derek’s back at their lead. Ericka was just a few strides behind Derek, with Mershad a short distance in back of Logan. The four covered the remaining ground swiftly.

When they reached their camp, they skittered to a halt. Mershad almost tripped over his feet in the process and slammed into Logan’s back. Logan caught and steadied the young man, who was breathing heavily, before turning quickly to the sight that had stunned all of them.

Janus’, Antonio’s, and Kent’s heads snapped about towards the other four with looks of surprise, clearly startled as the four bounded into the camp area. They were gathered around a tall, white-haired old man, clad in a wide-brimmed hat and long, flowing blue robes. The loose-fitting clothing on the old man did not hide the considerable broadness of the stranger’s shoulders, made more apparent by his very erect posture and confident disposition. Interestingly, the old man had remained entirely calm when the others had burst into the camp, showing no reaction whatsoever to their sudden emergence.

Logan’s first reaction was to look all around the area rapidly, though he quickly discovered that the old man was the only individual outside of his own group within sight. The unexpected encounter disrupted Logan’s lingering tensions for only a moment, as the air and ground still carried hints of the army passing towards the north.

Adding to the abrupt mystery, Logan noticed that Derek had a look of recognition upon his face as he looked towards the old man. Showing no signs of alarm at the presence of the stranger, Derek strode over towards Janus and came to stand by his friend’s side. Erika and Mershad stood quietly at Logan’s side, watching the others with caution.

Logan watched the unfolding scene with growing interest and puzzlement, as the words of the old man cut through the air.

“Forces in thrall to the Unifier pass near to you, though others would say that those are Gallean forces. In truth, they are all of the Unifier, in this darkening age,” the old man stated, his words carrying a distinct tinge of distaste. “You must not tarry in this place much longer, lest you fall into their hands. Go to the east. Others of a different mind will be found there. Ones who can be of help.”

The old man then turned to face the newcomers who yet kept their distance, stepping slowly towards Erika, Mershad, and Logan. He moved with an easy, effortless step, showing no sign of infirmity or frailty despite his seemingly ancient years.

Logan found himself staring right into the old man’s lone blue eye, for the other was fully covered by a patch. Logan could not read the expression of the stranger, as the old man’s mouth was nestled within an abundance of white that descended to his upper chest.

The transfixing gaze appeared to be generating a jeweled sparkle within its cerulean depths, a timeless evocation that belied the apparent age of the stranger’s physical appearance. It was a look brimming with vitality, alertness, and wisdom, and the stranger’s seemingly advanced years were as nothing in context of the ageless look reflected in that single, mesmerizing eye.

Logan tried to concentrate upon the old man, but found that it was increasingly difficult to gather his thoughts, as if his mental focus was slipping, and swiftly becoming hazy. For no explicable reason, the new development did not frighten Logan in the least. If anything, he felt an absence of danger in the immediate presence of the old man, and even his badly shaken nerves were bolstered by the inexplicable placidity that washed over him.

“And you three, with your friend over there, have all seen the strength of the Unifier’s forces for yourselves. Your own eyes do not lie. You saw what you saw, a river of power that is nothing compared to the vast seas of power beyond it,” the old man stated firmly, his voice deep and resonant.

“The Unifier?” Derek responded from next to Janus, “Who is the Unifier? And where is that army going?”

“Some would say those forces herald the genesis of a new order, brought forth out of the lands of Avanor, a land far to the west from where you now stand. The truly wise would see something from a much older order, one more ancient than the world itself,” the blue-robed man explained somberly. “The Unifier. … A leader cloaked in fair countenance, attractive and charming to all who behold Him, but wielding a terrible, dominating force that comes from the very depths of the Abyssal Realms themselves.”

The old man paused, and his countenance darkened, as if contemplating a particularly troubling thought. When he continued again, his voice was lower, and his tone deeply solemn.

“And the true wisdom is this; the Unifier is just a steward. He is a steward of another far more powerful Entity … though very few in this world, in lands under His influence, would be willing to say so openly. And still others are foolish enough to embrace Him knowingly, even aware that He is a steward, and conscious of the One that He is a steward for. Such are the ones who are most steeped in madness within this troubled world.”

“And the army we just saw?” Derek prodded insistently. “Where are they headed to?”

“The lands that you are in, right now,” the old man replied without hesitation.

“Then we should get the hell out of here, it would seem to me,” Derek stated tersely. He glanced to the three that had remained behind in the camp, Janus, Kent, and Antonio, his next words directed squarely at them. “We just saw an entire army march by at the edge of the woods. You probably wouldn’t believe me, but it was like something right out of a medieval time. Spears, armor, horses, swords … even knights … all that, and more. Things you probably won’t believe at first. It was an enormous army, thousands and thousands strong, and it was the source of all the noise and shaking that we all experienced.”

“Things I wouldn’t believe?” Janus asked him. “What do you mean?”

Derek hesitated, and when he answered Janus, his voice took on a tension that Logan had not heard within it before.

“There were … creatures.…” Derek said, his brow furrowing, as if it was difficult for him to make the declaration. “Of kinds that I have no idea what they were. I still can’t believe what I just saw, but I saw it, and so did Erika, Mershad, and Logan. We can’t deny it. And I do know that we don’t want to run into any of these creatures. Not in the least.”

The old man held his hand up, drawing everyone’s immediate attention.

“Before you worry yourself too much, that army will not come in here just yet,” he stated. “They are still assembling, gathering, and preparing for what will come. The Unifier’s hunger turns to the last lands that will not bend their knees to Him in submission, but know that those forces that you saw will not move on these woodlands just yet. You still have some time, and you will need what I have come here to give you.”

The old man had a large pouch affixed to the belt at his waist, from which he withdrew a number of small amulets hanging from thin, hide necklaces. Logan noticed that a radiant golden ring, inlaid with a spectacular blue gemstone, rested upon one of the old man’s long fingers.

The elongated, thin leather strips of hide procured from the leather pouch were each threaded through a metallic amulet. The amulet looked to be crafted of iron, inlaid with a small blue gemstone that was of the same kind as that on the old man’s ring.

The stone on the old man’s finger was large and round, while each of the stones in the amulets was cut into a very unique shape. The stones were nearly in the form of the letter “F,” with a distinctive difference. The two horizontal lines extending to the right of the vertical line were parallel, but slanted downward in a diagonal fashion.

The metal that the blue stones were set into framed them exquisitely, closely following the outer contours of the shaped stones. The complete pendants, including both stone and setting, were not overly large. Each could fit comfortably into the palm of a person’s hand.

“Take these, and wear them, at all times. They will help to get you through this time and place,” the old man announced, extending the first one towards Mershad.

Mershad accepted it a little gingerly, holding it out in front of him as he peered intently at the strange amulet. The old man moved onward, bestowing one necklace upon each member of the remaining group, until seven of the amulets had been distributed in all.

When he was finished passing out the necklaces, he advised them, “Walk this land with caution, and always be wary, for these are the most perilous of times for the world of Ave.”

The name of the new world sounded so graceful and elegant to Logan’s ears, pronounced ‘ah-vay’ by the elderly man. He wondered whether it carried the same meaning as a Latin word from his own world.

The words of caution from the old man were not necessary. Logan was not about to let his guard down, though he regarded it as unbelievably bad fortune if he and the others had truly stepped into another world that was wreathed in its most perilous age.

“Who are … you? And why … would you bother to help us?” Erika interjected, with a little strain in her voice, as if the question took a very conscious effort to utter. Logan could read confusion and mild exasperation on her face, as if she was struggling with herself.

She had asked what was probably the most obvious of questions, the one that should have been on the tips of all seven of their tongues. Yet not one of them had asked it, and Erika had only done so with evident difficulty.

Even as she voiced the question, Logan took notice that his nerves were indeed dulled. He knew that he should be feeling much more guarded and scrupulous in the face of an enigmatic stranger, especially one passing out distinctively shaped amulets fitted with blue gemstones. Yet it was as if he could not gain a tight enough grip upon his own thoughts to be concerned with what was transpiring. The mere sight of the old man seemed to be instantly soothing and reassuring, and there was no feeling of alarm anywhere within Logan.

The old man smiled gently at Erika, with the kindly warmth of a caring grandfather.

“It is good to be overly cautious in this age,” he responded in an amiable tone. “I am a friend, one who has been waiting for those such as you for a very, very long time. I only wish to be of help to you, the truth of which you all will know in a time to come.

“As I said to Janus yesterday, it is best that you limit your questions now, as any answers will only open up far more questions than you are ready to grapple with. Such is the true nature of knowledge, and what the seven of you are now being faced with could overwhelm you, if you are not careful. Heed my advice; take this journey a small step at a time.”

The others exchanged mystified glances with each other at the strange answer. Logan looked towards Janus, and then back to Derek, as full realization struck him. He understood then that this old man was the unusual figure that they had mentioned encountering soon after their arrival out of the mists.

Kent, who Logan also knew had seen the old man before, then asked the stranger, “I don’t understand any of this. And it sounds like you aren’t going to help us clear things up quickly … but don’t you at least have a name we can call you?”

The old man smiled again, and for a moment there was an amused glitter within his eye.

“Not all things at once, my young friend,” the stranger replied evenly. “I am simply a Wanderer through this wide world. One that has long sought wisdom, and has paid a great price for gaining it.”

The old man looked slowly around to each of the seven gathered around him. The others all remained silent and mindful, and even Kent did not offer objection to the unsatisfying answer to his question. The stranger seemed to be able to hold onto their undivided attention with merely a glance.

He uttered no other words, as his scrutiny finally ended with Logan. The encompassing gaze notably remained with Logan for a few seconds longer than it had with the others. Logan could not fathom why that was so, though the extended attention seemed very peculiar to him.

“You will be given guidance soon enough,” he told all of them, as he swept his gaze across all of their faces.

As if some kind of hold had been lifted, Logan felt the clarity of his thoughts begin to sharpen. With a sparkle in his eye, the old man turned away from them and started off into the woods with his long robes flowing about him.

His parting words carried back to them.

“Wear my gifts about your necks. They will bring you understanding. You will need them, if you wish to gain answers faster.”

Snapping fully out of the trance-like state, Logan regained mastery over the rest of his senses. He watched with amazement until the old man was out of sight, bewildered by the whole encounter.

“Hey, I wonder how much this would go for. Have to get a jewelry shop to price this one out when we get back,” Kent quipped.

His jesting words broke the awkward silence weighing heavy in the air, as Kent casually looped his pendant around his neck. Grinning wide, Kent added, “So, do I look like a good model for this? Gotta be worth a little money … I’m sure of it.”

“But it won’t be worth much if we get caught around here,” Logan stated.

A darker expression rose upon his face as he looked off in the direction where the old man had headed in. His mind filled again with vivid images of the enormous army, most especially the massive saber-toothed cats, the rat-men, and the burly monstrosities with their huge, wicked-looking axes.

“Are we all losing our minds? Why trust him?” Logan questioned the others. “Why trust anyone? What do we really know? But I think we do need to get a move on things here.”

Derek’s expression was very austere, as he looked over to Janus and Kent. “That was definitely the old man we saw yesterday … did he say anything else to you when we were gone?”

Janus nodded. “No doubt, it was the same man. He had appeared to us right before the four of you returned. I have no idea why he has such an interest in us, but he appears to be trying to help. He doesn’t seem to be dangerous, and if he was, wouldn’t he have done something yesterday, or just now?”

Derek shrugged, “Don’t ask me. Nothing makes sense anymore.”

“We should get going,” Logan interjected. “Medieval army or strange old man, I’m not about to trust anything or anyone. Derek’s right. Nothing makes sense.”

“I sure can’t make much sense out of what that man said. I wish I had asked him some more questions. It was like my mind grew sluggish, and I couldn’t think of much to say,” Erika said, accurately describing the sensation that Logan had felt throughout the encounter. “It was all I could do to just to ask him who he was. Like I had to force the words out of my mouth.”

She fingered her necklace for a moment, gazing down at the deep blue gemstone. Her glance prompted Logan to turn his attention to his own.

It appeared to be safe enough, a simple pendant of metal and gemstone. With a shrug, Logan finally slipped it on around his own neck. Looking back up, Logan was about to make another comment, when he saw the forest come alive all around them.

Seemingly out of nowhere, to their sides, to the front, and to the back of them, a large number of lithely moving figures emerged right from the trees and shadows themselves. All of them were armed, bearing various types of weapons, and their attentions were resolutely fixed upon Logan and his companions.

In appearance and attire, they were nothing like the ones that Logan had recently witnessed, comprising the huge column marching out on the plains. If anything, they immediately reminded him of the native peoples of his own country.

The weapons were poised for use, bringing a clenching feeling to Logan’s gut as the air swarmed with tension.

A good number of the warriors surrounding them held curving, wooden clubs of war. The gracefully cut, slender arching shafts ended in dense, rounded balls of solid wood. Some of the shafts were carved to resemble serpents or other animals, whose open jaws cradled the orbs of wood at their ends. On others, the facing of the spherical ends had been carved into the visage of a human face.

A few of the warriors had feather-fletched arrows notched on bows, which were partially drawn back and trained directly upon their targets; Logan and his six companions. Logan took uneasy account of more than one sharp iron arrowhead pointed coldly and impassively at his own body. The feeling was deeply unsettling, like nothing that he had ever experienced before.

Still other warriors bore axes with hafts of modest length, weapons clearly designed to be wielded with one arm. The hafts were fitted at their ends with small, single-edged blades of iron that had a slender horizontal profile. The axe blades gleamed dangerously as they reflected the sunlight breaking through the leaves of the trees above them.

Short bone-handled knives were suspended down the center of many of the figures’ chests, encased within sheaths graced with intricate quill-work and fringes of metal-banded tassels lining the openings.

The warriors themselves were very simply garbed. Though some wore longer hide tunics on their upper bodies, most were bare of chest. The latter were clad with some type of buckskin waist-skirt, not unlike a kilt, or a hide or woolen breechcloth that ran through their legs, looping up and over a waist belt. All wore hide leggings to the mid-thigh, and had moccasins covering their feet.

Their faces and exposed skin were covered in painted strips of red and black. Slightly obscured by the striping were a plethora of tattooed designs, some of recognizable animal or nature designs, and others geometric patterns.

The warriors did exhibit a considerable amount of ornamentation, as bands of quill-decorated hide, feathers, or small shell beads, wrapped around their upper arms or at the knees, were quite prevalent amongst them. Earrings and nose rings were in regular evidence, some of the former being substantial, looping designs made of shell. A few had their ears adorned with puffy, globular adornments of swan down.

There was a complete lack of facial hair on the men, and even their heads were largely shorn of hair. Most wore styles with thick tufts sprouting atop their heads, the centered tufts decorated with feathers or other smaller items.

Their facial features, on the average, were very angular in nature, with high-set cheekbones and prominent noses, lending many of them an almost hawk-like profile. Their dark eyes were piercing and humorless. Almost all had leaner, sinewy bodies, infused with a well-defined muscularity.

Logan and the others instinctively grouped together in a circle, facing outward with their backs to each other. He could not see any other clear options, as they were completely surrounded by the stern-looking warriors. It was certainly not in their interest to profess to fight.

“Stay where you are!” one of the nearest of the warriors commanded them in a hard, resolute tone.

Despite the black and red paint, and several tattoos, the warrior had a very handsome visage. He possessed a balanced symmetry to his wide, expressive eyes, full lips, and slightly broader nose, which complimented an ovular face. He was among the taller of the surrounding warriors, with a sculpted body that brought out his well-defined chest and bulging shoulder muscles.

He was every inch the image of strength and vitality, and definitely did not look like the kind of man that one would want to cross. Logan looked slowly to the others with him, seeing looks of utter confusion on the faces of some, and comprehension on the faces of others.

“Who are you? Why are you in these lands?” the figure then inquired, with manifest caution underlying his insistent manner.

“My name is Erika,” Erika then responded, “and we really don’t know where we are, why we are here, or even what is happening.”

Logan glanced towards his companions again.

The perplexity had seemed to increase on the faces of those who had looked the most confused when the warrior had initially spoken. They were eyeing Erika sharply, and Logan could see the questioning look in their gazes.

It was then that he took note that the ones wearing the pendants, like himself and Erika, looked to be the most comfortable. A distinct thought came to him, but he was not yet ready to try and test it. A throng of fierce-looking warriors of unknown intent, bristling with weapons, prompted him to severe caution. He did not want to make one comment or gesture that would be misconstrued to an unfavorable result. Nobody had to tell them that their lives were hanging in the balance.

“I’m Kent,” Kent replied nervously, after Erika had spoken, his eyes wide with anxiety. He suddenly stammered out, “We don’t know where we are, and if we trespassed, we did not mean it. She’s right, we don’t know what’s happening here.”

The others remained quiet, staying rigidly in place. The ones without the pendants on continued to look dumbfounded, and appeared to be growing increasingly worried.

Only Derek did not look to be overly ruffled by the unexpected developments unfolding all around them, his eyes constantly roving among the warriors. From what Logan had come to know of Derek, he surmised that his disciplined companion was carefully assessing the warriors’ intentions. He wished that he could ask Derek what his initial impressions of them were.

Logan pondered some of the thoughts tugging more strongly upon his mind. He had found it very intriguing that the old stranger in the blue garments, clearly a native to this strange world, had spoken the language of Logan’s group without any difficulty. It was even more curious that these woodland warriors spoke Logan’s own tongue so fluently.

Logan was not about to believe that everyone within an entirely new world spoke his language. Something very strange was occurring.

He glanced down at the blue stone pendant, as comprehension advanced in his mind. Though he knew he was taking a risk, he felt that he had to alert his companions that had not yet donned the amulets. The exchange with the surrounding warriors was tenuous at best, and Logan wanted everyone to be able to answer if questioned.

“It’s something with the pendants,” he whispered to Janus, Derek, and Antonio. “Trust me.”

The others looked towards him with puzzlement. Even Derek’s brow furrowed at Logan’s words.

The warrior addressing them abruptly looked to Logan with a sharp gaze, before glancing back quickly to Erika. Logan froze in place, hoping that his whisper had not provoked the warrior.

The warrior then looked past all of them, towards a couple of warriors that had just emerged from the woods. The two were now standing directly opposite him, on the other side of the trapped group.

“They do not wield the dark magic,” one of the pair of emerging warriors proclaimed, holding out what appeared to be a large quartz crystal for all to see in his right hand. He stared intently at its glittering surface, before looking back up again. He nodded and continued in a confident tone. “I am sure of it. The woman is not a witch, and the men are not shamans. They do not use the dark magic.”

The first warrior that had addressed them, the one that clearly appeared to be the band’s leader, looked back to Logan’s group. His steely look echoed the unyielding tension in the air as he silently regarded them.

“Who are you? What are you doing in these woods?” he demanded. “Each of you, speak your answer.”

“I am Erika, and I do not know how I came to be here,” Erika answered, the first of the seven to venture a response.

“My name is Kent … McNeeley. And it is no different with me,” Kent stated nervously. “I have no idea where we are right now, or how we got here. I swear. That’s the truth.”

Logan and Mershad answered similarly, but when it came to the last three in their group, there was an uncomfortable pause. Janus, Antonio, and Derek looked both confused and incredulous.

A look of frustration quickly grew upon the leader’s face during the uneasy delay. He turned his attention back towards Erika, even as Logan whispered to the remaining three.

“Just tell them your name, and why we are here,” he urged.

The leader of the warriors whipped about, and riveted immediately upon Logan.

“They heard me as easily as you did. Why do they not answer me?” the warrior challenged Logan. “Tell your companions to answer. Your lives may depend on it. We will take no chances here.”

As if for emphasis, he raised up the axe gripped in his hand, his chiseled arm muscles flexing at the movement. Logan had little doubt as he watched the fluid movement that the warrior was well-seasoned with the deadly weapon.

Logan imagined the axe hurling forward in a flash, its blade embedding deep in the warrior’s intended target. He certainly did not want that gleaming axe-head to be lodged in his own flesh and bone.

“I don’t know, but I have an idea why they cannot answer you,” Logan replied quickly, trying to keep his timbre as respectful as he could. “They cannot understand you, as we can.”

He hoped against hope that the hard-looking warrior deemed his tone to be polite enough. He looked to the three without the pendants, his mind still very conscious of the sharp edge of the axe gripped in the warrior’s right hand.

There was no harm in answering the question that had been asked, and they were not in any position to bargain.

“Tell him your names. Answer him,” Logan insisted, looking to the other three. “Do you not understand him?”

Derek shook his head first, followed by Antonio and Janus.

“Not a word,” Derek confessed tersely. “I do not know how you are speaking with them. They don’t speak our language.”

“What did he say?” the leader of the warriors questioned Logan curtly, heightened agitation flowing within his words.

Logan looked back to the warrior, becoming more certain of his analysis. Derek had spoken loud enough to be easily heard by the leader, but it was quite apparent that the leader had not understood him.

“He doesn’t understand you, and he doesn’t understand why we can understand you,” Logan offered to the leader carefully, whose impassive expression did not change with the answer.

Derek then asked Logan in a low voice, “How do you understand him?”

“Put the pendants on,” Logan instructed him. He turned back towards the leader. “I think we can speak with you, because of these.…”

He slowly brought up his right hand and fingered the blue stone resting upon his chest, lifting it up to display the object to the leader. The hardened warrior seemed to be further perplexed, and his eyes narrowed as he stared intently at the amulet. It was the most significant reaction yet that Logan had seen from the leader, and his interest in the pendant was very evident.

“I do not understand this. I understand you, the woman, and the other two. I see that all understand you when you speak. But you speak in our language. And these three do not understand us, and I do not understand their speech,” the figure said, his words outlining the confusing scenario.

The leader’s eyes flicked between the four wearing the pendants and the other three who were not. He seemed to be searching and studying them at the same time, his brow furrowing more in the intensity of his gaze.

“It must be some kind of magic, but they are not witches, shaman, or sorcerers. My vision is the same as that of Eagle Spirit. There is no dark magic here,” the second warrior that had emerged from behind Logan with a quartz crystal emphasized.

The lead warrior looked solemnly towards the crystal-bearing warrior, before quietly continuing in his scrutiny of Logan’s group. He regarded them for a few more minutes, which seemed like hours to Logan.

As if he came to the same understanding that Logan had reached, the leader stated at last, “Have them place the necklaces on. We will see if you speak truly.”

Logan passed on the directive from the warrior, with his own addendum. “Put your pendants on, but do it slowly.”

The others cooperated, and carefully donned their amulets, looking back to Logan, the warrior-leader, and all the others when they had done so.

“I will ask you again, who are you? Do you serve the Unifier?” the leader asked the trio.

Though a part of him had fully expected the reaction, Logan was still amazed as he saw the wonder dawning upon the faces of the others, as they suddenly comprehended the warrior’s words. In that moment, Logan knew that the strange old man in the blue robes had rendered each of them a most valuable gift. Yet whether the stranger had given it to them for reasons of good or for ill, Logan could still not tell for sure.

Presently, the gift was unquestionably an extraordinary blessing. The fact that the presence of the pendants also seemed acceptable, or at least tolerable, to the armed warriors surrounding them was certainly not a detriment either. Eyeing the arrows trained upon them, as well as the axes and the formidable-looking war clubs, Logan did not want to fathom what might have befallen his group had it been otherwise.

The implications of it all were unfolding quickly upon him. However inexplicable, a genuine type of magic was at work. The realization staggered Logan’s mind.

“No, we don’t serve any Unifier, and I don’t even know who this Unifier is,” Derek replied slowly, the echoes of his astonishment lingering in his face. “We are lost, far from our own world. I don’t even know where we are right now.”

An energetic murmur rippled through the gathering of warriors as they heard Derek speak. Logan could see their amazement, knowing that they understood his words after he had put on the pendant.

Janus and Antonio then voiced their agreement with Derek. As if it was an afterthought, all three then proceeded to give their names to the leader.

“Where did you get those?” the leader questioned the group, gesturing towards the amulets that had so evidently enabled their ability to converse.

“A stranger to us. An old man, with a long white beard and dressed in blue robes. He wore a patch over one eye, and would not give us his name,” Erika replied. “He only said that he was a wanderer through this world. He is the only person we have met since we have been here.”

Logan’s apprehension grew as Erika spoke, hoping that the strange old man was not by some ill twist of fate a great enemy of these warriors. The only thing that now existed in Logan’s world was the expression of the leader’s face, as he tensely awaited the man’s reaction to Erika’s statement.

To Logan’s great relief, the warrior’s posture relaxed, even to the point that there was the hint of a smile on his otherwise indifferent face.

“So, the Wanderer favors you. That is a good sign indeed,” the leader commented, his lightened tone reflecting the visible ebb of tautness from his face.

“What about the army we saw back there?” Logan ventured cautiously, casting a glance back towards the west. “Who were they?”

Several looks were exchanged among the surrounding warriors. The leader tensed again at the mention of the army, and for a moment Logan feared that he had just blundered into making an unnecessary provocation.

Fortunately, the leader’s face settled back once again, after a moment’s pause.

“I might ask you the same question,” the leader replied somberly. “The Unifier brings many from other lands. Some from very far away. I see clearly that you are not of our land. What are we to think? Yet the Wanderer favors you greatly. He could not be fooled by the arts of the Unifier. And if you worked the dark magic, the crystals would not be deceived. I do not yet understand any of this.…”

The last words seemed like an exasperated confession, as the leader fell into an extended silence. Logan could see the frustration plainly enough upon the warrior’s face, and knew that he and the others were not yet out of danger.

Derek then declared, “We have nothing to do with that army back there. Not one thing. Honest. We have no idea about what that army is, what it is about, or where it is going. We truly know nothing. We simply heard its passage when we awoke this morning, and went to see what it was.”

“See if any have the markings,” the leader urged, addressing some of the warriors to his right.

The indicated warriors stepped forward without hesitation, directly approaching the seven. Logan and his companions offered them no resistance, as the warriors grasped their wrists with firm grips, looking very closely and carefully at their bare arms. Logan wondered what they could possibly be searching for, as he continued to cooperate fully with the unexplained inspection.

“Nothing,” one of the other warriors reported at last. “None of them bear the markings.”

At the warrior’s response, the leader let a small smile emerge. The grip on the shaft of his axe noticeably relaxed, as he lowered it down slowly to rest at his side.

“That is another good sign. It seems more likely that you are speaking the truth. For those pledged in full loyalty to the Unifier bear the markings, and it is certain that you are at least not one of them,” the leader said, his tone considerably warmer. “I did not think that the Wanderer could be deceived, especially by a dedicated servant of the Unifier. Such a taint cannot escape the Wanderer’s gaze.”

The leader hesitated, and his voice took on a more somber tone, as the slight smile faded into a stony mien. His eyes flitted between all of them, not meeting their eyes, but looking lower on their bodies.

“But there is still so much about you that is unknown. Your strange garments are different than anything I have ever seen. Not in any of my travels have I seen such garments.

“I once journeyed to large trade gatherings in the great city of Carcasse, within Gallea. Garments from far places in this world were traded there, yet nothing like those that you now wear.”

The leader’s voice then took on the air of a rendered judgement, as his gaze rose back up to meet theirs.

“As there is much that we do not understand about you, all of you must return with us to our village. You have not yet been found to be enemies, and as such, you will be treated as guests, with honor. You will receive food and shelter in our village, but you may not travel free until the Council says that you can do so.”

His eyes narrowed to a penetrating glare, the lines on his face becoming as rigid as stone. “But if you are liars about your purpose and allegiances, you will not walk alive from these woods.”

Logan had no doubts at all that the leader and his surrounding warriors could fulfill that grim pronouncement quite capably, and swiftly.

The leader looked off towards the west, as if he was taking momentary notice of the distant, marching army. The rumbles were not entirely gone, though the very faint sensations had dwindled to the brink of becoming completely imperceptible.

“You shall walk with us, as we must go from here now,” the leader stated firmly, turning back to them.

He gestured for Logan and the others to approach him, as the full group of warriors gathered closer together, in apparent readiness to move onward.

“I am called Ayenwatha,” he introduced himself. “And know that you are considered guests of the Onan tribe, one of the tribes of the Five Realms of the Sacred Fire.”

At a signal from Ayenwatha, the combined group then moved out, proceeding deeper into the forest towards the east. Logan was simply glad that they were heading away from the direction where the marching army had been, relieved to be putting some distance between his group and the massive force.

The ground underfoot finally carried no more traces of the army, and the tranquil sounds of the living forest filled the air once again. The wind flowed through the leaves of the trees overhead, creating brief openings that sprinkled rays of sunlight onto the lower growths, which were inundated with snowy white flowers. Had circumstances been otherwise, Logan would have rapidly found himself taken in by the timeless serenity reigning all around him.

Ayenwatha remained close to where Logan walked alongside Janus, just ahead of their other five companions. Logan chanced a look back towards the others. None looked to be the worse for wear. He exchanged a glance with Antonio, who gave him a rueful grin.

Logan discovered that each of the seven members of his group had a tribal warrior striding close behind them, as they traveled in a loose column through the woods. The implications were clear enough. The seven might well be considered guests, but their escorts were taking no chances.

He was not about to do anything to provoke the black and red painted warriors. He had already espied some grisly mementos being carried by a few of them. Bloodied swathes of skin, with locks of hair still attached, hung from the hide belts of those that bore them along.

Logan had a fairly good idea of what it meant to be considered as an enemy of the tribal warriors.

Janus

The leader of the band of warriors gradually eased into open conversation with Janus and the others as they continued forth through the sprawling forest. Janus listened with great interest to Ayenwatha’s words, hoping to learn a little bit more about the lands within the new world around him.

Their new host, Ayenwatha, was a war leader within his Onan tribe, referred to among his people as a war sachem. The Onan, in turn, were part of a broader alliance of five great tribes.

That alliance, called the Five Realms, had come together for common protection and fellowship long ago, under the guidance of a very wise individual, named Deganawida, who was deeply revered by all the tribes.

Ayenwatha also informed them that he was of the Firaken clan, reflecting no small amount of pride in his expression and voice. Though Janus did not have the first idea as to what a Firaken was, or what it meant to be in such a clan, he could sense that clan affiliation was a very important element of the tribal society.

Janus was also able to glean more about the enigmatic figure known as the Unifier. Ayenwatha’s tone was little different than that of the old wanderer when he was speaking of the highly mysterious Unifier.

There was no mistaking the bitter hatred that Ayenwatha felt towards the Unifier, an animosity that clearly reflected the feelings of all the tribal warriors. To Ayenwatha’s knowledge, the Five Realms were one of the few civilizations remaining in the whole known world that still remained openly opposed to the Unifier.

Ayenwatha related that a state of war had recently arisen between the Five Realms and the followers of the Unifier, who would accept nothing less than the utter submission of his people. The Five Realms had long before rejected the Unifier’s overtures to seek the tribes’ loyalty to Him, which Ayenwatha described as a tacit demand to submit fully to the Unifier’s authority.

A stark, more overtly worded demand recently delivered to the tribes had been refused outright by their Grand Council. It was a fateful rejection, which the tribal sachems had known would likely conjure up a violent, raging storm upon their own people.

As luck would have it, Janus and his companions had come into the tribal lands just as those storm clouds were building to the verge of bursting. That fully explained the extreme caution displayed by the warriors when they had emerged to confront Janus’ group.

Ayenwatha informed Janus and the others that his Onan war party had been shadowing the army that they had witnessed from the edge of the forest.

The large force’s appearance along their borders, Ayenwatha believed, was the sign that an invasion was imminent. Ayenwatha surmised that the force was making its way towards a position central to the westernmost borders of the tribal lands, a place that also afforded access to ample amounts of fresh water in the forms of a sizeable lake and attendant streams.

According to Ayenwatha, it was an ideal locale for a massive number of warriors and animals, putting the enemy force in an advantageous position where they were well-poised to cleave through the heart of the tribal lands.

Janus learned that the bordering kingdom where this force had mustered and come from was called Gallea. According to Ayenwatha, it was just one of many strong kingdoms that had implicitly submitted their authority to the Unifier.

Janus could tell that Ayenwatha greatly lamented the impending conflict. The war sachem remarked that Gallea had not always shown such outward hostility to his people. Ayenwatha spoke with a very conspicuous sense of wonder about a great Gallean city called Carcasse, which he had once been to in earlier, and more peaceful, times. He described with unmistakable admiration how the city was surrounded with high stone walls, and many prominent towers, filled with traders and guests from all over the Gallean realm and far beyond.

The tribes had until fairly recently enjoyed a steady trade with the Galleans, as there was evidently a large demand in the Gallean markets for beaver furs. In return, the tribes had regularly obtained many iron implements, such as cooking pots, axe, arrow, and spear heads, and knife blades.

Ayenwatha spoke with outright fascination of other massive, stone-walled fortresses that he had seen on his journeys into the Gallean lands. These were not cities, he explained, but rather where the Gallean sachems, as he called the Gallean leaders, resided with their families.

Ayenwatha held a high and very respectful regard for his tribe’s powerful neighbor. It was obviously a point of considerable distress that Gallea had fully enjoined with the Unifier, enough such that it was gathering its military might to threaten and beset Ayenwatha’s woodland people.

Derek had then interjected into the discussion, querying Ayenwatha regarding the non-humans that he, Logan, Erika, and Mershad had seen marching with the great enemy force.

The presence of non-human races had been an incredible revelation, one that greatly intrigued Janus, as he had remained behind in the camp when the others had gone forth to investigate the source of the tremors. He too wanted to learn a little more about the strange beasts that Derek, Logan, Mershad, and Erika had seen and described.

From the snippets of their descriptions and other comments, Janus had been able to cobble together a rough mental image of the unusual denizens of this new, mystifying world. As Ayenwatha elaborated in response to Derek’s inquiry, that picture became much more clear.

The non-humans that Derek and the three others had seen amongst the marching forces were not from Gallea, but had been summoned from other, faraway lands. Like the Galleans, they were each just another part of the enormous coalition being gathered under the Unifier’s dominion.

The rat-like beings were called Atagar, from a distant land called Yanith. They were reputed to be nimble, formidable fighters, highly-suited to a forest environment as they occupied one themselves back in their native lands. With their natural abilities, it had come as little surprise to Ayenwatha that they had been brought in for an attack upon the woodland tribes.

The cat-like creatures with the extensive canines that accompanied the Atagar also came from Yanith. Not unlike war dogs used by humans, these creatures, called Licanthers, were raised and trained by the Atagar to serve as guardians, companions, and living weapons of war.

Hearing about the fearsome Licanthers, Janus was not sure that he ever wanted to see one within any short distance of himself. It was disconcerting enough just to know that such fantastical entities truly existed, and were not simply beasts of myth or legend.

The massive, brutish creatures witnessed by Janus’ companions were called Gigans. Ayenwatha explained that they were native to the north-central regions along the borders of a very large realm called Kiruva, a place that Ayenwatha claimed he knew little about. As a whole, the Gigans were still fairly unfamiliar to the tribal people, but Janus could tell that Ayenwatha was not eager to discover all of the attributes of the hulking race.

It was hard for Janus to envision these weapon-wielding behemoths, but he could tell that Derek had been entirely awed by them. That was enough to daunt Janus, as Derek was not one to be easily impressed.

Janus also learned that the Five Realms were not likely to be the only ones that were imminently coming under the shadow of assault from the Unifier. From some trading exchanges with other people still friendly to the Five Realms, Ayenwatha had learned that the far-reaching power of the Unifier was already moving to conquer another large kingdom that had steadfastly refused Him.

It was a realm located across the waters of the ocean to the south of the Five Realms, called the Kingdom of Saxany.

The Unifier, from His citadel in Avanor, had also begun turning His eyes towards a land known as Midragard. Janus could sense the marked distress that Ayenwatha felt at this prospect in particular, quickly recognizing that Ayenwatha felt an affinity for the Midragardans.

The people of Midragard were apparently masters of the oceans, great seafarers whose main homelands were located much farther to the south. They had numerous settlements stretching far beyond the main lands of Midragard, even including some on islands located just offshore of the Five Realms to the east.

The seafaring people, according to Ayenwatha, were legendary warriors and traders, whose travels in war and trade had taken them to many foreign lands.

Once ferocious raiders of the tribal lands, the Midragardans were now in a longstanding state of friendship with the five tribes. The enmity that formerly existed between Ayenwatha’s people and the Midragardans had ebbed over time, finally disappearing as open trade replaced violence.

The relationship had grown strong, bringing the Five Realms more than just material items of trade. The Midragardans brought Ayenwatha word of rumors and happenings from many distant lands. It had been Midragardans that had brought Ayenwatha the tidings of war involving Saxany.

While Janus could sense that such reports were troubling enough to Ayenwatha, he understood that the sachem’s own concerns were very immediate in nature. Ayenwatha’s war party had been tracking and shadowing the marching army beyond the border for the better part of the last two days. Prior to encountering Janus’ group, the war band had been very close to returning back to the Onan village called the Place of Far Seeing, where the eternal Sacred Fire of the Five Realms was kept. This village, as Janus learned, also happened to be Ayenwatha’s own home village.

Ayenwatha’s war party been sent out by the village to learn everything that they could of the enemy forces, in order to gain as much information as possible for the consideration of future councils.

There had been some fighting over the course of the two days, though none of the enemy that had been encountered by Ayenwatha’s band had escaped the forest. Janus had seen the evidence of those melees in the form of the gruesome scalps being carried by a few of the warriors.

It had been late in that very morning that the war party had become aware of the seven humans’ presence within the woods. They had come upon their campsite not long thereafter.

Derek perked up and drew closer when Ayenwatha spoke of how the war party had fanned out and quickly surrounded the campsite, moving into place right after the Wanderer, as Ayenwatha referred to the old man, had departed. Oddly, they had not encountered the Wanderer as they had closed in and encircled the seven foreigners, though there were only a handful of moments between the old man’s departure and their emergence. Once they had taken their positions, Ayenwatha’s warriors had been content to stay concealed for a few more moments, as they observed the unusually attired, strange interlopers.

Janus was sure that the revelation of the warriors’ successful encroachment and surveillance was of great interest to his friend, who prided himself on his own senses and acute alertness.

“A whole war party … encircled us, and crept up, without anything seeming remotely amiss,” Derek murmured to Janus, the appreciation for the skills of the tribal warriors very evident in his voice.

Janus realized how lucky they were to all be wearing their own clothes. As Ayenwatha explained it, their unfamiliar attire was the sole factor that had stayed the hand of the war band from killing them outright. Their highly unusual clothing had prevented the tribal warriors from instantly mistaking the seven to be some sort of scouting offshoot from the nearby enemy forces.

After the brief observation, Ayenwatha had come to the fortunate decision that there was a real possibility that Janus and his companions were not aligned with the forces of the Unifier. It was at that juncture that Ayenwatha and the warriors had made their presence known.

The thought of how precariously close Janus and the others from his world had come to dying that day was quite sobering to contemplate.

Janus and his companions were not the only ones hungry for new information. It did not take long for Ayenwatha to begin probing for answers to his own questions, regarding the seven and their recent experiences.

Janus related in detail his own interactions with the Wanderer. It was clear that the tribal people regarded the Wanderer with great esteem, holding a deep respect for his wisdom in particular.

While frustrating to Janus, Ayenwatha offered nothing specific about the old man’s nature, even though Janus could clearly sense that there was much more that Ayenwatha could have said about the Wanderer. Janus felt a tantalizing urge to try and press Ayenwatha on the matter, but then thought better of it.

Janus did learn that the Wanderer was known to possess great powers, gifts that Ayenwatha said came from the One Spirit, which the Wanderer used to help humankind and all of creation. Ayenwatha was insistent to assure Janus and the others that the Wanderer was no shaman or witch, and that his powers had nothing at all to do with dark magic.

Janus had already noticed that Ayenwatha’s war band had shown a pressing interest in determining whether Janus and his companions were shamans or witches. The determination of their status in that regard had appeared to be of the utmost importance to the tribal contingent. The seven had been carefully evaluated by the quartz-holding warriors, and had been deemed blameless of such pursuits.

That judgement, in Janus’ estimation, had also been immensely fortunate for his group, with dire consequences had it gone otherwise. With the very adamant declaration of the Wanderer’s full innocence in relation to dark magic, the truth was made very clear to Janus. The tribal culture that Ayenwatha was from regarded witches, shamans, and dark sorcerers as baleful adversaries, in a very hostile sense. The practicing of dark magic was most certainly among the most serious of transgressions in the eyes of the tribal people, an odious and unforgivable affront to their culture and beliefs.

A few of the other warriors in the immediate vicinity of Janus and the others had then begun to relate their own tales concerning the Wanderer.

Every story and encounter regarding the Wanderer boded no ill or danger for those that had experienced his presence. Rather, all of the described experiences of the tribal people with the Wanderer were of a very positive nature. Janus was left with few doubts that his own encounter with the esoteric, woodland wanderer had been a stroke of excellent fortune. Without the pendants the Wanderer had given them, he did not wish to think of what might have happened after the tribal warriors had come forth from the shadows.

With the tone of a jest, Ayenwatha had then remarked that the Wanderer had often appeared to his eyes and sensibilities to be a wayward elder from Midragard. According to Ayenwatha, the Wanderer’s fair countenance, luxuriant blue eye, staunch fortitude, and seemingly relentless passion for adventuring strongly reflected the kind of blood found flowing in Midragardan veins.

The only significant difference in Ayenwatha’s eyes was that the Wanderer had always been encountered solely by the tribal people within their own woodlands, well within the territories of the Five Realms. The tribal people had never met the Wanderer out upon the Great Waters, or around the Midragardans that they interacted with. In fact, the Midragardans that Ayenwatha knew had claimed to have had no encounters with the Wanderer. As the sachem stated with emphasis, had the Wanderer been of a Midragardan origin, it was inconceivable that the Wanderer would have had no interactions with Midragardans living and traveling in the vicinity of the tribal lands. It was also unbelievable that he had never been seen out on the seas that the Midragardans so loved.

Janus steadily came to realize that it was the great reverence that the tribes held for the Wanderer that had also helped the cause of the seven lost foreigners. The warriors undoubtedly had been encouraged to even greater restraint when it had been revealed that the seven exiles had not only interacted favorably with the venerable, blue-robed elder, but had also been bestowed by the Wanderer with powerful gifts.

Janus gave a brief shudder as he considered again just how perilously close they had all been dancing to the edge of a razor sharp blade. One slight inclination by Ayenwatha in another direction could well have resulted in arrows hissing from the forest to impale Janus and all the others, before they even knew what was happening.

Ayenwatha was rife with curiosity about the seven exiles, and Janus was not surprised when the warrior-leader began to venture the inevitable cascade of questions regarding the foreigners and their circumstances.

Logan and Erika took most of the turns explaining the course of the events that had brought them to the very moment where Ayenwatha and his warriors had revealed themselves. Janus did not mind the others speaking for the group, as it gave him some more time to observe the reactions and responses of their host.

Ayenwatha listened to the accounts with manifest interest, and undisguised fascination. Janus could tell that it was very difficult for Ayenwatha to even conceive of the concept of someone coming from another entire world.

Ayenwatha rarely interrupted, openly encouraging all of them to go into great detail. Many of the surrounding warriors walking with them edged closer to catch pieces of what was certainly to them a wild and incredible tale.

As Janus watched Ayenwatha closely, he eventually came to understand that Ayenwatha was no individual to be underestimated, or taken lightly. The sachem possessed a subtle intelligence, and was clever in using it, as Janus slowly realized what the sachem was truly up to in the prolonged dialogue with his comrades.

Ayenwatha’s questions kept the others talking, often backtracking over areas that they had covered before. Janus came to understand that there was a cogent reason for the seeming redundancy.

It dawned upon Janus that the sachem’s desire for considerable detail was not the result of simply wanting to feed casual interests. As he listened to the foreigners, Ayenwatha was actively sifting through the many elements of their story. He was looking for any inconsistencies or conflicts in their accounts, as well as working to gain deeper insights, seeking to discover anything that would tell him more about the real truth involving the seven’s unexpected presence in the lands of his people.

Janus hoped that the greater amount of information given by his companions was reinforcing to Ayenwatha. Everything being said by them regarding their ordeal was the truth, and not some intentionally deceptive concoction.

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 hill, 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.

Most of the edifices were of a generally similar, elongated appearance, which varied only in their absolute lengths. They ranged from a few dozen feet up to some greater ones that were well over a couple hundred feet long. Sprinkled in amongst them were a few smaller, circular wooden huts, as well as some tall vertical posts, which displayed an array of surface carvings.

Another similarly narrow opening within the outer palisade was evident at the far end of the large enclosure, placed just opposite to the one that Logan and his companions had just passed through.

A number of high wooden platforms, accessible by steep sets of narrow, ladder-like steps, each provided with thin timber railing, had been erected at several locations along the inside of the palisade. From their positioning and height, it was very obvious to Logan that these platforms were intended for defensive purposes.

As Logan gazed out over the grounds of the enclosure and the structures within it, he noted that the largest of the elongated buildings was placed at what looked to be the very center of the village. A garden plot brimming with what looked to be young tobacco plants sat just adjacent to it. Smaller such garden plots accompanied some of the other lengthy edifices.

The particular construction of the dominant form of building was made very evident a few moments later, as Logan set his eyes upon a mid-sized structure of the type that was currently undergoing an extension in its length. Materials such as stacks of bark sheaths, various poles derived from saplings and thicker tree sections, and coils of hempen rope were clustered near to the skeletal framing of the extension.

The longhouses were covered in a type of elm bark paneling or sheathing, affixed over a framework of tied elm poles. Sapling poles bent into arches formed ceiling rafters.

From the look of the unfinished structure, it could be seen that the longhouses were divided into chamber-like increments within their interiors. There was a sheltered entrance at each end of the longhouses, where bark panels were hung over their entryways with images worked upon their facings.

Logan did not have long to regard the construct, or much of anything else. Villagers quickly surrounded the group, pressing in close, with more streaming in every moment towards the increasing mass by the entrance. They emerged from within and around the many structures, hurrying in from farther areas of the village’s interior, ceasing whatever tasks they had been engaged in.

A few women off to Logan’s right got up from where they had been arraying gathered berries on the surfaces of bark trays. Another woman set down a long wooden pestle by a mortar that looked like a hollowed-out tree trunk, releasing her grip on the narrow midsection, spanning between the two thick ends with rounded heads.

A little baby was resting securely in a wooden cradle-board, suspended from a peg fixed into a high, stout timber post near to her. She paused only long enough to gather up the decorated cradle-board and her baby, a plump little urchin swaddled in dark cloth wrapping that was ornamented with light-colored beadwork.

Logan caught the sight of a number of horses gathered off to the left. They were not saddled, but it was clear that they were being prepared for a journey. All were bearing loads that consisted of hide pouches or stacks of furred skins. Several men were striding away from them, moving to join the rest of the villagers.

More young children were now emerging from where they had been playing deeper amongst the longhouses and huts, accompanied by a bevy of dogs. Bounding alongside them, the canines wagged their tails vigorously in the growing commotion.

The children’s jubilant cries and excited shrieks were mixed with the playful barking of the dogs, putting a cheerful tint upon the living, dynamic picture evolving before Logan’s eyes.

Logan almost chuckled aloud as he beheld the extremely humorous sight of one particularly chubby little fellow, who was trotting as best as he possibly could to keep up with the other children. The little one’s shaky balance showed that it had not been all that long since he had ceased crawling as his primary method of movement.

Logan winced as one of the accompanying dogs nearly tripped the little fellow up, causing him to totter for a second. Logan breathed a sigh of relief as the child stabilized, managing somehow to remain upright.

The broad mixture of old men and women, children, young adults, and several more warriors all appeared eager to get a closer look at the eccentric appearances of the strangers brought back by the war party. They herded around the seven, those farther in back craning their necks and jostling to get better positions, their eyes drinking in the sight of Logan and his companions.

Among the last of the villagers to arrive to the throng around Logan’s group were some of the most intriguing individuals of all.

A few older women, of particularly stately bearings, methodically came up join the gathering. Several younger members of the tribe escorted these women with obvious reverence. The crowd parted wide to allow the elderly women access to the forefront of the assemblage, many conceding their prime locations in deference to the women.

One of the elderly women caught Logan’s attention in particular, as she came to stand almost directly before him. She was wearing a full-length, black-dyed buckskin dress, richly ornamented with dyed quill-work. A distinctive image was visible on the front of her tunic-dress, surrounded by a bevy of swirls and floral representations. It featured a large, semicircular shape, which arched over a pair of parallel lines, whose width spanned to the ends of the semicircle.

The old woman gazed upon Logan with an impassive expression resting upon her heavily creased face. The look in her dark eyes was alert and penetrating, and he wished that he could read her thoughts.

Another distinctive individual caught Logan’s attention in a similar way, an older man whose approach was also accompanied by gestures of respect and deference among the other villagers. Like the elderly woman, he came to stand close to Logan.

He was wearing a headdress fashioned from the thick-furred skin of a brown bear. The bear’s upper jaws crowned the old man’s head, lending his stern, eagle-like visage even more strength as he stared fixedly towards the foreigners.

Logan held the man’s eyes for only a moment, before his attention was taken in again by the swirl of faces all around. The tribal people were still cheering and lauding the warriors, but it was becoming abundantly clear that burning questions were on the tips of all their tongues. Murmurs ran abundantly through the crowd, coming from lips set underneath eyes that were intently scrutinizing Logan’s group.

Before the tension at the unanswered inquiries became too uncomfortably palpable, Ayenwatha stepped forward from the war band and swept his gaze over all of them. A hush fell upon the crowd at his movement, as a host of expectant eyes turned to regard him.

“My brothers and sisters of the Onan, of the village of the Place of Far Seeing, the war party has returned … and with very good tidings. We have not lost even one of our brothers, while gaining a victory over the enemies that would seek to do us harm,” Ayenwatha announced, his tone resonant, and unmistakably proud as it carried over all the gathering.

As if to emphasize the triumphant result of the excursion, the women bearing the scalps waved the poles back and forward again in a salutatory fashion. The gesture elicited a chorus of whoops, cries, and cheers that pierced the air.

Logan could both see and feel the ecstatic surge of delight at the news of the full survival of the war party. The exuberance was especially reflected within the faces of many women that had begun to step forward to greet individual warriors in the band. All of these women wore their hair with a single, long braid down their backs.

Logan did not have to ask anyone regarding the identity of the women stepping forward. Their faces emanated the lightness of sheer relief, along with the radiance of unrestrained joy and affection towards their returned husbands.

The scalp-poles were then given over to some of these women. The particular woman that received the pole displaying multiple scalps had a sparkling expression as she accepted it from the female bearer. She gazed back proudly at the warrior that she had just been embracing, raising the pole high and letting out an energetic, victorious whoop, flashing a dazzling smile at him. The other women receiving scalp-poles had similarly beaming expressions and reactions as they turned to regard their husbands, who, Logan fathomed, were undoubtedly the ones responsible for the war trophies. Following the handing over of the scalp-poles, it took a few more moments for the renewed adulation to settle down again.

The crowd then became subdued once more, as Ayenwatha resumed his address, turning to look upon the seven foreigners as he spoke. To Logan, it felt as if the air immediately thickened with the multitude of inquisitive stares that fell in mass upon him and his fellow exiles. The pervasive stillness held the acute, weighty sensation of the enveloping throng collectively holding their breaths.

“As you can see with your own eyes, we have seven with us who are not of the tribes … and who are not of these lands. They were not taken as prisoners by our war party, and do not appear to be of the enemy. Their stay among us is still to be decided,” Ayenwatha stated firmly. “But know that they carried no sign of the dark magic. The crystals speak truly, and it is certain that they do not practice the dark ways.

“For now, they are to be my guests. They are to be treated as guests of the Onan, while their fate among our people will be decided by our village council.”

Logan could read a wide range of responses within the faces and eyes oriented towards the seven strangers. Mistrust, apprehension, hostility, and even some smatterings of welcome were displayed in the variety of expressions in view around him.

The diverse reactions left him in a more uncertain state, after having just gained a little more confidence while traveling along with the war party. Though Ayenwatha had treated Logan and the others politely enough, it was now very clear that the seven were still facing a very unpredictable situation.

“Prepare now for the welcome, with meat and the sweetness of the maple,” Ayenwatha then announced, his words bringing a little of the former levity back to the atmosphere. Though many of the tribal people continued to stare at Logan and the other newcomers, Ayenwatha’s words were greeted with considerable enthusiasm.

Logan looked to the sachem for some indication as to what was to come next. Ayenwatha’s eyes roved across the faces of the crowd, and looked well beyond the gathering, as if searching for someone in particular.

Ayenwatha then turned and conferred in private with some of the warriors that had initially come out of the village to greet them. All that Logan was able to gather were some passing references to a person named Deganawida. From what he could glean from snippets of their conversation, the desired individual was not currently within the village.

Ayenwatha looked visibly displeased at the news of the person’s absence, and Logan found himself wondering who the sought individual might be.

The sachem then turned his attention back to the seven exiles. He gestured for them to follow, as he stepped forward and guided Logan and the others onward, heading deeper into the village. The crowd dutifully parted aside to allow all of them a channel to pass through, and Logan could feel the heavy stares that lingered to his sides and back as they proceeded through the congested assemblage.

Ayenwatha, a few escorting warriors, and the seven foreigners passed deep into the midst of the elongated structures. They finally drew near to the cluster of greater longhouses that Logan had espied earlier, in the village’s center.

The sachem led them straight towards the end of one of the extensive longhouses. Ayenwatha did not break stride as he pushed aside a hide flap spanning the sheltered opening and proceeded inside. As he passed just beneath the bark panel suspended over the entryway, Logan carefully eyed the symbol depicted upon it.

The symbol was that of a very unusual, six-legged beast, sharp of fang with decidedly cat-like features. He hoped that such an unusual creature was just a mythical depiction, a construct of tribal imagination, and not any actual representation of what lay out in the surrounding forest; the forest which Logan and the others had just been walking through.

Passing under the sheltered porch-entrance, the group filed through the hide-draped opening into a sort of vestibule. It held within it a number of barrels fashioned out of bark sheaths, as well as a quantity of corn-husk baskets and pottery containers. The object of greatest abundance stored within the space was firewood, the sections of which had been collected and piled into many sizeable stacks.

The group did not linger within the storage area as they headed straight through another opening a few paces immediately ahead, similar to the entryway behind them. Once through it, they found themselves within the first interior chamber of an inhabited longhouse.

Ayenwatha drew to a halt within the chamber, as if to indulge the visitors’ curiosities. Logan was grateful for the pause, as he gazed around at a fully finished living chamber. It was a segment of the same type that he had just seen in the process of being crafted outside, the extension to the mid-sized longhouse near the village entrance.

To each side of Logan’s group were raised, bark-covered platforms, set at about a sitting level for an average adult. Upon the platforms were long corn-husk mats and several animal skins, both of which Logan figured were used for sleeping at night.

Over their heads, running along each side of the chamber, and also constructed of thick sheets of bark, were shelves being used for the storage of foodstuffs, tools, weapons, hides, and other various items. Some of the implements in view were very interesting in appearance, catching Logan’s attention momentarily. One of these items looked like a racquet of some type, perhaps giving a hint as to the kind of sport engaged in by the tribes. Nearby was a pair of matching objects that featured latticed, broad bodies, looking distinctly like a set of snow shoes.

Logan could see the edges of shallow pits that had been dug out directly beneath the lower sleeping platforms. The pits also appeared to be for storage, as he could see the dark shapes of objects contained within them, though their specific forms were shrouded in deep shadow.

A few feet of open space extended along the side walls from each end of the lower platforms, the small areas holding more bark barrels, as well as a few stacks of firewood. A bark-panel wall, pierced by a narrow opening, divided the living chamber from the next compartment in the longhouse sequence.

While the upper and lower platforms arranged on each half of the chamber, as well as the storage spaces, inherently mirrored their opposite sides, not everything within the section was duplicated. Set into the middle of the compartment was a singular fire pit, which was presumably shared in common by the occupants of the two analogous living spaces.

Farther above Logan, hanging from the elm-pole rafters of the ceiling, were what appeared to several braided bunches of corn, as well as long strips of some type of dried meat or fish. There was also a small hole in the ceiling that was positioned directly over the fire pit, presumably for the escape of smoke.

Despite the smoke hole, Logan could quickly see that ventilation in the chamber was very limited, and that any fire burning in the hearth pit would quickly render the room congested and hazy. Even without an active fire burning the air was thicker to the lungs, and heavily laced with strong, musky scents. Logan surmised that it would not take very much to make the interior conditions unbearable to his own senses.

“There are two families to each chamber, one living on each side,” Ayenwatha explained, as Logan and the others continued to gaze around. “For now, you will be staying in this longhouse, which is of my own Firaken Clan, for I am responsible for your presence in the village. Now, come forward with me, and I will take you to your quarters.”

Ayenwatha led them onward, across the chamber, passing through the next opening and continuing through the midst of several more similar dwelling spaces until they finally came to one that had very few signs of habitation. If anything, it appeared to be wholly abandoned.

The chamber’s upper shelves, rafters, hearth pit, and open spaces were largely barren, save for a few mats, hides, a couple stacks of firewood, and a few other elements.

Ayenwatha drew to a stop in the chamber, and turned to face the group as they gathered around him. “This chamber is where you may rest amongst yourselves for now. It is not being occupied at the moment. A terrible sickness claimed many from the village a few seasons ago, and not all chambers in the great longhouses have been reoccupied. I must go now, to tell the others of everything that has happened, and of you. I will return for you when I am finished.”

Ayenwatha then walked through the middle of the group and made his way out of the chamber, heading back the way they had come, leaving the seven exiles all by themselves for the first time since they had been surrounded. A few moments after Ayenwatha had left, the group began to quietly spread out within their assigned living quarters.

Logan walked away from the others, heading towards the lower platform that was set to the right side of the opening through which they had entered the chamber. Antonio followed after him a few moments later, and the two friends sat down side by side upon the platform’s edge. Feeling the rough, uneven surface beneath him, Logan knew that it would take some time getting used to the furnishings.

Logan glanced over to his right, towards Antonio. In that moment, Logan realized that the two of them, so used to confiding closely in each other over recent years, had not spoken much at all together since they had joined up with Erika and Mershad in the forest.

“So much change, so fast,” Logan muttered, low enough that his words were delivered in relative privacy.

Antonio replied in an equally subdued voice, “Everything is moving fast. Makes me feel kind of helpless. I don’t think we have real freedom anymore. None at all. Any way you look at it. And I mean … any way.”

He pointedly glanced over at the opening that Ayenwatha had just departed through. Logan followed his friend’s gaze and saw that there were a few of Ayenwatha’s warriors lingering quietly within the adjacent chamber. Seeing their presence, Logan had little doubt that if he, or any of his companions, were to walk through the next opening into the other abutting chamber, they would likely encounter another warrior or two.

For the time being, it was abundantly clear that the seven were not going to be allowed to exit the longhouse of their own accord. Their hosts were treating them with a cordial respect, perhaps even generously given the circumstances, but it was still one that had its precautions and firm parameters.

“We will work with whatever we’ve got,” Logan finally replied, staring at the forms of the warriors for a moment longer before returning his gaze back to Antonio. “Really, it’s just like every day back in our own world. We didn’t control those circumstances either. We did whatever we had to do … in response to whatever we had before us.”

Logan paused, and then gave Antonio a rueful grin. “Though I admit the things facing us back home were a whole lot more familiar to us.”

“But where is this all headed to?” Antonio asked with a forlorn expression. Logan could see the fear glistening in his friend’s eyes. “If it wasn’t for the fact that we’re going through it hour by hour together, it would be hard for me to believe any of this is even real. But I know it is no dream ….”

Logan shook his head, “I don’t know. The best thing that’s happened is that we haven’t panicked too much. I know that we’re all scared. I would be a fool and a liar to say otherwise. But we can’t lose control now, and we can’t start panicking. Things would get much worse, very quickly. We have to keep our wits about ourselves, even if it all looks like murk and storms ahead.”

Antonio nodded with a pensive expression at Logan’s advice. Logan knew that his friend would likely heed the sentiments that he had voiced, even if Antonio was none too happy about their current state of affairs; prisoners in a foreign land that had a blackening cloud of war spreading over it.

Logan looked over at the rest of the group. Two were milling about the opening to the chamber on his left, while a couple more were occupying the surface of the platform opposite to him.

Kent, clearly restless, was working to climb up to the overhead platform on the other side of the chamber. Logan watched him idly, somewhat curious as to what Kent was up to.

“So what do you think of the others? Do you think that everyone else can hold themselves together for long?” Antonio asked Logan.

Logan, continuing to watch Kent’s upward progress, nodded affirmatively. “I think so. I think they all can. Especially Derek. He’s probably our best fighter, if things come down to something that needed that, and he’s got a military background. We talked about it during our turn together on the night’s watch. And I really think Erika and Janus are very capable individuals too. She’s a strong one, with a lot of willpower. Janus is one of those quiet, tenacious types. He’s not one that would easily let us down.

“As for Kent, it is a little questionable, but he seems to be managing okay for the moment. And Mershad … I don’t know enough about him yet, but my gut tells me he’s good. But I honestly think all of them will be fine. I really do.”

“Well, let’s make the best of it then, like you say. Everyone in this room is kind of like our family now, in a way,” Antonio observed. His grin, likely meant to be encouraging, was laced with nervousness. “I ….”

“No weapons! Put that down! And come down here, right now!”

Antonio flinched as their conversation was curtly interrupted, a stern, authoritative voice coming from the opening that they had entered the chamber through.

Kent had succeeded in climbing up to the overhead platform, and had been marveling at one of the ball-ended, carved timber war clubs that he had found lying up there. His expression in the wake of the admonishment was not far from that of a naughty child caught red-handed.

Kent set the club down slowly, and carefully climbed back down to the ground level. His face was flush as he turned around to face the others.

“Sorry, sorry, I just was curious about what was up there, that’s all,” Kent said gently to the strong-looking warrior that was now standing in the entryway, glowering at him. Kent held his hands up, palms open, in a placating gesture.

The plainly irritated warrior moved quickly past Kent, climbing up swiftly to the upper platform and retrieving the weapon. He took a few moments to search about the platform before coming back down. Crossing the chamber, he climbed and checked the other higher platform.

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 their 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 façade 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.

He had no idea of what he and Ryan might come across on the excursion in the forest, being that he was no experienced outdoorsman. Theirs was to be a foray of sheer opportunism, delving into the unknown.

On the gathering side of things, their miniature quest remained a dismal failure, as they failed to locate any nuts or berries of a recognizably safe nature in the general vicinity of the camp. Anything they found turned out to have a very questionable appearance, and Lee was not about to chance a possible threat to their health. If any of them were to get sick, the prospects of treating the illness were very remote at best.

They had an altogether different experience in regards to hunting. About an hour and a half into their sojourn, Lee heard a couple of high-pitched screeches coming from deeper within the trees and brush, somewhere directly ahead of them. He signaled immediately to Ryan, to duck down and take cover behind some nearby trees.

Situated close together, Lee and Ryan waited in crouched positions, poised in a state of keen alertness.

Several minutes later, a group of four apparently flightless birds, each at least three feet tall and heavier of body, came into sight. Spread apart at staggered depths, they stalked slowly forward as their eyes swept through the area.

The heavy-bodied birds had large, and sharp-ended, curved beaks at the ends of their sizeable heads, which provided conspicuous evidence that the creatures were predators to be respected. Their stout bodies rested upon pairs of long, powerful legs, equipped with sets of horrific-looking talons. They had a very limber, muted step, and their purposeful movements gave off the appearance that they were ready to explode into rapid motion at any moment. The creatures also possessed two very undersized wings, readily confirming their flightless nature.

It was quite clear to Lee that their darker plumage was very advantageous to moving stealthily amid a world of shadows, brush, and earthy colors. They blended extremely well with the background, and it was plainly fortuitous that the area that Lee and Ryan had been trekking through contained only sparse, patchy areas of undergrowth.

To Lee, the creatures looked like they had emerged right out of a far distant past. He was simply glad that they were the size that they were, and not like some of the monstrosities of a very similar type that had walked the prehistoric ages of his own world.

While Lee realized the dangerous nature of the predatory birds, he also recognized a prime opportunity at hand. Though the large birds were themselves hunters, they were now about to become the hunted.

Lee gestured for Ryan to remain idle, while he kept his eyes riveted upon the approaching quartet of birds. The birds continued to methodically step through the area, fanning out broader as they looked about for smaller game.

Holding his position behind the tree, Lee waited patiently while he slowly brought his stake up in both hands to a level plane. When his arms came to rest, the sharp end was pointed towards the nearest of the birds. He kept a strong, firm grip upon the stake, the muscles of his arms, back, and shoulders tensing in readiness.

About a minute later, one of the other birds stepped over very close to where Lee was hiding. Lee carefully shifted the point of the stake to align with the advancing creature. It had just started to pass by the trunk of the tree, and in another stride or two would be in a position where it would not fail to discover Lee.

Lee was not about to let that transpire. Having kept rigidly still, he remained poised, a serpent coiled to strike. The very instant that the bird poked its head by the tree that Lee was behind, it found itself abruptly impaled with a powerful thrust of the makeshift spear. His robust strike was well-executed, bringing his body’s weight and momentum fully behind it, and driven all the more forcefully by Lee’s growing hunger.

The blow landed squarely in the bird’s body, the sheer force knocking it backward and slamming it down into the ground. Spiked and grievously wounded, it made a loud squawk of dismay, which instantly roused the others of its group.

Lee yelled loudly at the birds, hoping to startle and scatter them. Instead of taking to flight, the others three birds recovered quickly, spreading out as they started towards Lee. Lee’s heart sank precipitously, seeing their aggressive intention.

Secondly, and even more worrisome, Ryan was nowhere to be found.

“I need some help here, Ryan!” Lee shouted in panic.

His voice echoed off into the woods, without any reply other than the sounds of the predators encroaching upon him.

Lee yanked the crude pike out of the bird lying before him, raised his leg, and stomped down as hard as he could upon the creature’s neck area, feeling his heel crack bone. The bird underneath him thrashed once more, before falling entirely still.

The other three continued to close in upon him. Lee raised his spear up, and readied in desperation to fight them.

Ryan entered the fray at that moment, yelling at the top of his lungs as he rushed out and skewered one of the incoming birds, taking it completely by surprise. The blow did not land as flush as Lee’s had, but it knocked the bird off its talons and to the ground.

In burst of adrenalized vigor, Ryan hurled himself forth and threw his weight fully upon the end of the stake. His efforts drove the wood through further, and effectively pinned the writhing bird to the ground.

The two remaining birds were momentarily distracted and confused by the sudden attack of the shouting newcomer, enabling Lee a prime opportunity to strike cleanly and formidably. He focused and delivered another solid strike with his crude spear.

Yet another thrashing bird hit the ground, expiring a moment later after Lee had moved in and landed a couple of vicious kicks to its head, the last one crushing its skull.

The lone remaining bird, seeing the violent fates of its comrades, and no longer finding any strength in numbers, whirled about with a resounding cry, and bounded briskly off into the depths of the forest. Its body melted into the shadows and brush, vanishing in just a few strides.

“A lot harder than I thought,” Lee remarked between heavy breaths, looking towards the depths of the forest that had engulfed the surviving bird’s fleeing form. “Didn’t think they would attack us. I hate surprises.”

“Yeah, it was alot harder,” Ryan agreed, then adding with a grin, “But at least we got something.”

“And you took long enough,” Lee retorted accusingly, with a grin that was only half in jest. His heart was still racing from the uncertain moment when the three birds had stalked him.

“Timing is everything,” Ryan responded without hesitation. “Worked too, didn’t it?”

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Lee conceded, though not entirely assuaged. “But you still took your sweet time.”

The three slain birds were now fully motionless, hard-won prizes for Lee and Ryan’s efforts. Lee pulled his spear out of the dead creature that it was currently lodged in. He took a few moments to walk around and make certain that the other two fallen birds were indeed dead before trying to handle them. Lee knew that just one slash delivered from one of the powerful talons, or a lone, hard strike from the creatures’ sharp beaks, could quite possibly cripple or kill him.

Each of the creatures weighed somewhere between sixty to seventy pounds. “We’ll have to settle for two on one trip, it looks like,” Ryan said, straining to heave one of the carcasses up and over his right shoulder.

Lee shrugged. “We’ve got more than enough here, and we don’t have any place to store the excess.”

“I hate wasting it, since we killed it,” Ryan stated, looking over at the third bird. “Maybe we should come back for it.”

“I think the meat will be made good use of, long before we can get back,” Lee said, looking up into the surrounding trees. His eyes remained fixed on the branches above them. “They aren’t going to be upset if we leave the bird. And I don’t think they’ll wait very long when we are out of sight. In fact, you and I are probably now heroes to them.”

“What?” Ryan queried, before following Lee’s glance on up into the boughs of the trees. He flinched in surprise at the sight.

A number of small, rodent-like creatures were cautiously emerging into sight on many of the upper branches.

They were chittering in high-pitched, squeaky voices, and their long snouts vigorously sniffed at the air in apparent excitement, likely emboldened by the sight of the three dead birds. Were it not for their prehensile tails, anchoring their dark-furred bodies to the tree limbs, Lee would not have doubted that their raised level of fervor would have caused more than a few of them to tumble out of the trees in the expanding commotion.

Lee understood immediately what the lay of the land was.

In more usual settings within this new world, it was creatures such as those above that were eaten by the carnivorous birds now lying below. Caught foraging on the forest floor, before they could reach the refuge of the trees, the creatures that Lee now saw all around him would be very easy prey for the large, predatory birds.

In what was probably a most glorious moment among their furry little race, their great nemesis’s body would now be serving as a feast for their own kind.

Lee surmised that with the killing of three out of the four birds, he and Ryan had effectively decimated the rodent-like creatures’ main threat within the area. If the small tree-dwelling creatures had been able to speak a succinct language, Lee would not have been surprised if they acclaimed the two humans as saviors.

Ryan grinned as he stared at the odd little creatures. “Yeah, we probably are heroes to the little guys. And you know what? I don’t mind that. Nature’s not really a very friendly thing, you know?”

“In reality it can be pretty brutal, and the tables aren’t often turned, so they should celebrate it while they can,” Lee remarked. He slung a bird carcass over his own right shoulder, with a grunt accompanying the exertion. “But we gotta survive. And so do they. So that’s that. Now what do you say to getting some breakfast going?”

“And making up for a few other meals … but you clean it,” Ryan replied as they started on their way back. “And I’m not watching. I prefer to get meat already cut and readied.”

“I thought you young people were afraid of nothing,” Lee chided, laughing. “Well, you can be happy that we landed birds. I’ve prepared chicken and duck more times than you can count. This will be on a bit of a bigger scale, but I’m sure the approach is not too different. But you are not off the hook. While I’m on this, you work on a fire.”

“Don’t know how,” Ryan said.

“I’d bet one of the women might still have a lighter in her pocket,” Lee said with a wink. “Didn’t you notice Erin’s coughing?”

“Good point,” Ryan replied.

In time, they reached the campsite and set about their tasks. As Lee had suggested, Erin was a habitual smoker and did indeed have a lighter in one of her pockets.

In another moment of fortune, it was discovered that Lynn had one as well. She half-reluctantly confessed that her uses for it went further beyond tobacco. She also had a small pocket-knife in her possession, which Lee enthusiastically borrowed to help with his immediate tasks.

Ryan helped Lee get the carcasses carried over to the creek. Ryan soon disappeared as Lee started attending to the job of preparing the newly acquired food. The process was not as hygienic as Lee would have liked, as well as being much more awkward, but with some effort he finally accomplished his task.

When he finally came back, lugging several cut sections of meat in his hands, Ryan and Lynn had a small part of the ground cleared, and demarcated with a ring of stones. A fire was burning steadily inside a hollowed out area located within the stone circle.

Fashioning some rough spits, Lee soon had the meat cooking. The flames licked at the fresh meat, as the juices hissed and crackled in the heat.

In minutes, the scents wafting off of their cooking breakfast inundated the air. Lee’s mouth watered in anticipation, buoyed by his gaping hunger, but he noticed that Erin was looking very sullen and hanging far back from the fire. Erin quickly saw that Lee was staring at her, and apparently recognized his puzzlement with her demeanor.

“I’m not eating that,” she remarked edgily, her nose turned upward. In a tone that sounded like a judgement being delivered on all the others, she stated curtly, “I’m a vegetarian.”

Lee chuckled openly, unable to hold back his amusement given their stark circumstances and options.

Ryan evidently could not hold back his incredulity either. “Oh, your kind really amaze me. See these? They are called canine teeth … C-A-N-I-N-E! They are used for eating meat,” Ryan said in a patronizing tone, as he pointed at the sharp teeth in his own mouth.

“And what about it?” she snapped back hotly at him.

“Herbivores are not equipped with them. Omnivores and carnivores are,” Ryan replied in the same condescending tone. “Oh, and did you know that your jaw moves back and forth, and also moves up and down? That’s what a natural omnivore’s jaws do.”

“So what?” Erin replied irritably, her face now a hard scowl.

“Oh, and guess what else? Large brains in humans came about because of meat consumption,” Ryan continued, clearly deriving some amusement from her vexation by that point. “I won’t get into what that implies for the future of vegetarians, other than your brains will probably shrink over the generations, but you had better consider yourself real lucky that we can eat meat. Otherwise you would have had to continue starving.”

Lynn half-heartedly moved to defend her friend at that moment, interrupting Ryan abruptly, “Take it easy on her now. She’s been that way for years. Not my thing either, but it’s what she wants to be. And we really do need to find some other food sources around here, eventually.”

“And I will find something else,” Erin added obstinately. “We’ll find something soon enough.”

Lee shrugged, but was not about to change his plans. “Have it your way then, but I’m going to eat now, and I’m eating what we manage to find. There’s no menus out here. Just reality.”

“Makes two of us,” Ryan commented with a glare at Erin.

“I can’t deny it either,” Lynn said, with a sideways grin to the two men, out of Erin’s line of sight, which showed that she understood their mystification at her friend’s obstinacy.

They were able to satiate their hunger easily, for there was an overabundance of food for one meal with what Ryan and Lee had procured. Even with the crude manner that Lee had been forced to use to prepare it, the meat was surprisingly good. It had a tender, juicy quality that was not unlike well-prepared turkey, a quite pleasant surprise in the midst of the wilderness.

Erin watched the others eating from a few feet away, with a series of disgusted, sullen looks parading upon her face. Her juvenile display was almost to the point of being obnoxious, as far as Lee was concerned.

If she had intended to ruin Lee’s enjoyment of the meal, it was to no avail. With each and every bite, Lee felt stronger, and more revived, while he knew that she was left lightheaded with an expanding hunger, by her own stubborn choice.

Finally, Erin got up with a curt exhale and stomped off into the forest. Lee was incredulous at the highly immature response of the young woman, especially from one whose life had hung by a precarious thread just mere moments after her entrance into this dangerous new world.

“No time for philosophical debates,” Lee said. “We have to live. A starving lion wouldn’t have any problem making short work of her.”

“Exactly,” Ryan said. “Neither would a shark.”

“Which brings me to another point,” Lee said quickly. A scowl crossed his face as he stared off towards where Erin had disappeared. “After what I’ve seen, there’s no place for childish tantrums and stomping off into these woods alone.”

He looked over to Ryan.

“True enough, I’ll keep an eye on her, and try to talk her back here,” Ryan said, getting up, picking up his stake, and setting out after Erin.

“Do it quickly,” Lee called after him.

Ryan paused to pick up Erin’s own makeshift weapon, which she had left behind in her ire.

“She gets impulsive,” explained Lynn with an apologetic air, watching Ryan heading onward after her friend.

“Impulsive can mean getting killed here very quickly, I’m afraid. We don’t know much about our whereabouts,” Lee said. “I just learned a very good lesson, almost a very hard one.”

He proceeded to tell Lynn more detail about their earlier encounter with the predatory birds, emphasizing the unpleasant surprises that had manifested. Lynn’s eyes widened as the full tale was told, as Lee quickly discovered that she had only heard the basic elements from Ryan upon their return.

Erin appeared back at the campsite several minutes later. She was bearing a couple of branches loaded with berries, a petulant look fixed upon her face.

Ryan emerged into sight behind her a few seconds later, shrugging his shoulders at Lee with a look of exasperation. He was still carrying her makeshift weapon.

Erin looked towards Lee, and her face beamed with a look of triumph. Sitting down, she picked, chewed, and swallowed a mouthful of the berries. She then held out the branches towards Lee.

“See, this is called persistence,” she declared acidly.

She took off a few more berries and ate them.

“She wouldn’t listen to me,” Ryan said. “I don’t know about those. You and I both were worried about whether or not those were safe to eat.”

Lee grew concerned as he watched her, as she had already proceeded well past the point of caution. The berries that she was eating he had indeed seen on his recent foray, and he had deemed it best to avoid them entirely.

His caution was affirmed a short time later, when Erin’s haughty smile swiftly faded, her face growing very pale. Dropping the remaining berries, she clutched at her stomach and started to heave.

Lee, Ryan, and Lynn jumped up immediately and ran over to the stricken young woman, reaching Erin as she violently regurgitated her recent findings back onto the ground. After a few more heaves, when nothing more was coming out of her mouth, her breathing slowly settled back down.

The others gently helped Erin lay on the ground, easing her down carefully. Once Erin was prone, Lynn darted off towards the creek. She returned shortly with a piece of cloth that had been torn off of her own shirt, dampened with water. Kneeling by her friend, she wiped Erin’s brow and patted the cloth lightly about her face.

The next couple of hours were filled with tension. Lee silently stood by the others with Erin, a great apprehension taking hold of him regarding the nature of the berries that she had consumed. He felt both anger and concern as he peered down upon the young woman, knowing that her suffering was wholly unnecessary. Her breathing was short and rapid, and her face reflected considerable pain as she cradled her stomach in a fetal position. The most bothersome aspect of it all was that Lee had no idea as to the outcome of her folly.

Only time would reveal the full answer.

As the moments passed, Erin went through another couple bouts of dry heaving, her stomach already having been thoroughly emptied. Her pallor continued to be troubling. Yet just when Lee had begun to dread the worst, her physical signs appeared to stabilize, and then slowly began to improve. Her breathing became more regular, and her face slowly showed less strain.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Lee remarked firmly, when it finally became abundantly clear that she was not mortally poisoned.

Erin’s reaction to his words demonstrated that her constitution was returning in full. She did not give him the courtesy of a verbal reply, simply shooting Lee a hardened, annoyed look, as if to say that she absolutely refused to concede anything to him.

“Pride isn’t going to get you very far under our circumstances!” Lee fumed with exasperation, throwing up his hands and tromping back towards the center of the camp.

Ryan shook his head and trotted after Lee.

Behind them, Lynn helped Erin back to a sitting position, and cautiously pulled her back up to her feet. She slowly guided Erin across the campsite, assisting her back under the shade of the shelter that they had fashioned.

“She’ll rest better out of the open. So what now?” Lynn asked the other two, after she had emerged from the shelter and returned to join them. As if to answer their unspoken queries, she stated, “What she did was completely idiotic. I’m not supporting her stupid choice, but she’s my friend.”

“And we’ll stand by her too, Lynn, as we’re in this mess together,” Lee replied without equivocation. “Even though I won’t hesitate to point out when she’s being a total fool.”

“I’m with Lee, on both counts,” Ryan added.

Lynn nodded to both of the males, “I appreciate all of that. She filters me out often enough, so it’s good that you two are blunt with her. Maybe something will eventually get through her thick head.”

“So what do you suggest we do now?” Lee asked, changing the subject back to the decisions imminently facing them. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Try and find somebody, or something,” Lynn answered. “It’s all we really can do, when we have no idea where in this world we are.”

“If there even is somebody out there,” Ryan commented ruefully.

“We’ve got to at least look,” Lynn replied.

“Then let’s start doing it right now,” Ryan said impatiently. After an extended pause, his next words took on a tinge of anger and desperation. “Let’s get on it!”

Lee knew that the sharp edge just exhibited in the young man was stoked by the torrent of worries swirling within him. He could not blame Ryan for his great trepidation. Lee shared it too, and was simply a little better able to stifle his own worries, packing them deeper down inside.

“After a minute or two,” Lynn stated firmly, steadily meeting Ryan’s heated gaze. “Whether her fault or not, let Erin get a little of her strength back.”

Ryan sat down with a huff, rolling his eyes. “Then I’m sitting.”

Lee replied gently, “We will wait, Lynn, but we need to learn everything we can about this world. And we need to learn very fast, if we are going to have a chance to make it very far. Now we know of those aggressive birds. Now we know about those berries. Two steps on that journey.”

As if to accentuate his point, Lee walked over and picked up Lynn’s stake where she had set it down. Returning, he handed it over to her.

“And you keep this near you, at all times,” Lee said adamantly.

Lynn set the end of the stake into the ground, gripped in both of her hands as she lowered her eyes to the ground before her. Lee said nothing more as he turned and stepped over to Ryan’s side. He lowered himself down, patting the youth reassuringly upon the shoulder as he took a place by him. Lynn sat down with them a few moments later.

Few words passed between the trio, as time marched relentlessly onward.

After about another hour had passed, Erin came out from the shelter and broke the impasse, indicating that she felt that she could handle some slow hiking. The group gathered its belongings together and left the campsite behind. Setting off at an easy pace, they halted sporadically, mainly to allow Erin to rest for a few moments.

While clearly not feeling fully well, Erin proved to be capable of handling the rather leisurely rate of travel without major incident, or sign of undue strain. A few times Lee considered urging her to press herself a little harder, but he bit back his impulses, simply grateful that she was cooperating without an acerbic display of attitude.

The landscape that they traveled through remained largely unchanged, as the litany of trees, hilly terrain, wide forest creeks, and narrow streams continued.

Majestic oaks allowed considerable sunlight to reach the forest floor, resulting in the flourishing of ferns, violets, and other types of plants low to the ground. Tall beeches, with their smooth gray surfaces, heralded the presence of minimal undergrowth beneath their ample, thick-shading canopies. Beautiful hazel trees with their dangling, cylindrical flower clusters, hardwood ash trees, and great pines were just some of the other types of woodland sentinels populating the area that they walked through.

The signs of animal life were minimal, confined primarily to a few more sightings of the strange, tree dwelling mammals that seemed to be prevalent to the region that they were traversing.

There were also a number of rather ordinary birds, of kinds much more familiar to Lee’s eyes. The diminutive sparrows emitting their sustained chirping, the blackbirds with their eyes ringed in yellow, and a few warblers, grey-backed with reddish undersides, were all witnessed by Lee as they hiked through the woodlands.

The birds were largely resting among the branches of the trees, sending their various calls out through the peaceful forest air. Lee passed the time by watching a few of them alighting upon, or taking off from, the living roosts. He watched them dart and glide amongst the trees, with some lifting out of sight on a climb skyward.

The afternoon slowly dissolved as the shadows lengthened, announcing the approach of the early stages of evening. By that time, it seemed to Lee as if his body was being sapped of energy with every passing moment. He had begun to envy Ryan and the two girls, who possessed natural, extra reservoirs of youthful stamina.

Yet despite the youth of the other three, all things were not equal in relation to their various conditions. Ryan and Lynn were holding up to the trek very well, while Erin now appeared to be toiling just to keep moving forward.

Just as Lee was about to call for an extended halt, for both his sake and Erin’s, they finally came upon a break in the trees and brush. They had just skirted around the base of yet another one of the ubiquitous, forested hills that dominated the region that they were passing through. The denser foliage gave way fairly abruptly, as an entirely new, magnificent vision was unveiled before them.

A series of very low, grassy hills undulated in what was essentially a broad, rolling plain, broken up only by pockets of brush strewn randomly about. The low waves in the sea of windswept grasses spread out to the farthest edges of their vision.

“Progress, I hope,” Ryan remarked, as the four of them looked out over the markedly different terrain.

“And maybe danger,” Lynn quickly returned, not looking very confident at the significant change in geography.

Lee could not blame Lynn’s apparent misgivings, as the new territory offered its own set of daunting concerns. It was considerably more open and exposed, especially if they were to try to walk out into it.

They would easily be visible for miles around, especially to any eyes watching from a higher vantage point. It was not lost on Lee that all four in the group had already witnessed formidable flying entities traversing the skies of this strange world.

Yet there was no imminent threat in view, or even a remote sign of danger. A very large, heavy-bodied bird with a substantial wingspan, chestnut-breasted with a white underside, flew calmly over the grassy surface, showing no apparent urgency in its easygoing flight.

Erin slumped down to the ground at the edge of the trees, breathing heavily as the others hesitated. Her body had been taxed to a much greater extent than the others had been. She looked to be genuinely grateful for the stop, rather than for any notable change in geography.

Lee stood silently, peering off towards the distant horizon, looking carefully to both sky and ground. He slowly dropped to one knee, and placed his hand upon the ground.

He had intended to simply brace himself, resting a little as he stared out over the open expanse. Yet something tugged at his instincts almost instantly, as his palm connected with the land.

He felt that there was something faint under his hand, like a barely perceptible tremor, though it was not strong enough for surety. A frown crossed his face, his expression swiftly growing pensive. There was not enough in the feeling coming from beneath his palm to convince him, but the foreboding sense prevented him from dismissing it outright.

“Let’s go!” Ryan said from behind Lee, taking a couple of steps forward.

Lee shook his head curtly, snapping his hand up to get Ryan to halt when the youth had reached his side. The young man was just a couple of steps away from leaving the cover of the trees.

Lee said emphatically, “There’s something here. Let’s pull back behind the trees for now … at least while we rest.”

Ryan groaned in frustration, as the others walked back a few strides, deeper into the cover of the trees. They waited in silence, hungry and tired, for nearly an hour.

Even if Lee could not say exactly what it was, he was increasingly certain that something was amiss. All of his instincts screamed out to him to heed his caution and stay away from the open ground.

Lee continued to feel the vibrations in the earth beneath, soon perceiving that they were growing stronger. It was clear from their moods that Lynn and Ryan were becoming quite restless, although Erin was still weary enough to value the extended respite. Lee had just begun to ponder whether his mind was playing tricks on him in his fatigued state, when their eyes were all suddenly drawn towards one of the low, grass-blanketed hills off to the right.

A light thumping sound, in a conspicuously galloping rhythm, filled their ears and grew steadily louder. Lee gestured urgently for all of them to get down and press their bodies to the ground.

There was no argument from any of the others as they hurriedly lay down flat upon the hard earth. Lee’s heart leaped and pounded, and he doubted that any of the others had a slow heartbeat in the sharply heightened anxiety of the moment. The rumbling beats swelled, the vibrations under Lee becoming ever more prominent. His eyes remained locked on the plains before them.

About a minute later, a number of mounted riders burst into full view.

Lee drank in the startling sight, spellbound at what he saw. Stunned, Lee stared at the throng of figures, taking in their strange appearances.

The riders were sitting in wood-framed saddles, astride horses of a strong, muscular build. Most of the riders were armed with long lances, the spear-blades featuring iron lugs at their bases that jutted straight out to the sides.

Near to the lead of the group was a rider bearing a special lance, to which a wedge-shaped pennon was affixed. The pennon was of alternating blue and gold stripes, with a fringe of red tassels lining the curving outer edge. It flapped vigorously as it cut through the air above the galloping riders.

All of the riders wore long cloaks, pinned at the right shoulder. Round shields of various colors were slung over their backs, suspended from leather straps. Iron bosses glinted in the daylight where they protruded from the middle of the large shields.

The riders’ heads were protected in a variety of half-helms. Some were of a rounded type, with chain mail aventails affixed to extend the wearer added neck protection. Others were of a more crested profile, protruding slightly in the rear. A few were crafted of segmented iron plates, with descending nasal guards in front.

The riders’ upper bodies were clad in coats of mail, and a few wore chain mail chausses, providing additional protection on their thighs down to the tops of their knees.

A bearded rider just ahead of the pennon-bearer suddenly raised his sword high, drawing Lee’s attention. Sunlight gleamed off the golden inlay on the hazelnut-shaped pommel and short, straight quillons. Long locks of dark hair whipped around from where they flowed out from the base of his half-helm, as the sword-wielder cried out loudly to the others, eliciting a spirited shout in response.

This warrior had additional protective elements, distinguishing him from the rest of the riders. Unique among the group, he possessed a pair of splinted iron greaves that protected his lower legs, echoing similar vambraces encasing his lower arms.

The horses were being spurred forward with a desperate urgency, driven at a full gallop as they pounded swiftly across the open ground.

Lee ripped his gaze away from the remarkable sight, and glanced quickly over to the others with him. Wide looks of amazement were exchanged among his companions, before they turned their full attention back towards the oncoming cluster of riders.

Loud cries, and a flurry of sounds resembling growls and barks, then filled the air, as the throng of horses was swiftly brought to a halt. The riders bore looks of utter surprise, as they looked up into the sky, right in the area over where Lee and the others were hiding.

Lee’s heart thundered more furiously at the new chorus of sounds, which were directly over his position.

The riders scattered in all directions, as a number of dark shadows sped across the ground towards them. Lee saw the deep, racing shadows from the first moment that they broke out along the surface of the grasses. He looked up into the sky, just as a horde of stunning forms burst into full view.

Lee had never seen anything like the flying entities now soaring low over the grassy plains, conveyed forth by sweeping sets of dark, membranous wings. They were entirely unique to his experience, giant, four-legged creatures. Even more incredible, they were bearing armed riders.

The winged creatures themselves had a slightly sloped frame, rising from their lower hips to the frontal portion of their bodies. They had large heads, with short muzzles that harbored broad, powerful jaws. Large, triangular ears rose up on each side of their heads, positioned near to the crown.

Covering the backs and sides of the flying creatures was a shaggy mass of long, coarse, dark brown fur. Around their wide necks and chests, from the backs of their upright ears to the tops of their shoulders, they displayed a distinctive, light yellow mane.

Four legs, lean and sinewy, were tucked underneath their bodies, the limbs ending in broad paws that were each equipped with a set of sharp claws. The short fur covering their legs held a distinct coloration pattern, with alternating light and dark rings running from their wide paws on up to their undersides.

As Lee caught his first clear glimpses of the profiles of the riders upon on the winged steeds, time screeched to a standstill. They were undeniably inhuman.

Lee’s mind scrambled to recover from his initial shock, as the fliers guided their winged steeds directly towards the scattering horsemen with exceptional skill, and a deadly grace. Nearly fifty of them had now swept into Lee’s view, racing towards the dispersing horsemen far beneath them. At first, they drove the horsemen farther away from the forest’s edge, forcing a few that had been charging directly towards the trees to veer away just a short distance from reaching the woods.

Several of the fliers curved about, as if seeking to corral the dispersing horse riders closer together. In the process, they presented Lee with a full, frontal view of their forms.

Lee’s mouth dropped agape.

The considerable size of the winged steeds was wholly necessary to bear the imposing riders aloft, while still retaining agility, maneuverability, and speed. The warriors had thick, powerful chests and torsos, complimented by broad backs and shoulders, and long, brawny limbs.

Their strong upper bodies were clothed in knee-length, earthen colored tunics, which were worn underneath protective hide jerkins. Leggings, or perhaps woolen trousers, completed their primary attire. Their hide shoes or boots were set firmly into bronze stirrups of a simple, stout design.

The fronts of many of the outer jerkins were richly decorated, exhibiting a variety of designs that contrasted with the darker color of the hide. Many of the fliers were also wearing amulets around their broad, muscular necks.

Thick, very long locks of dark hair flowed out copiously from underneath boiled leather caps, or simple iron half-helms, buffeted about vigorously within the winds.

Their faces were fully exposed to Lee in the broad daylight, displaying the most striking features of all. Their non-human visages contained a protruding muzzle, one that had a thick-set appearance short in length, and broad in width. Opening their jaws wide to emit their deep, sonorous war cries, they showed off the extensive canines contained within their considerable maws.

Many of the beast-men were carrying extensive lances, fitted with broad, elongated spear blades unmistakably suited for slashing as much as thrusting. Others bore a formidable-looking, sword-like weapon, which had a quite lengthy, heavy blade. It had no cross guard above the short hilt, or pommel beneath. The weapon’s broad, protracted blade had a gently curving, saber-like profile to it, singled-edged, and ending in a wickedly sharp point.

A few of the fliers bore a particularly fearsome-looking, long-hafted weapon. A two-handed weapon, its single-edged blade was both longer and heavier than that of the sword-like weapon, while being of a generally similar profile. It was not a spear, but rather a cutting weapon, able to be utilized like a great axe.

Several fliers pursuing the horsemen held short javelins in overhand grips, while a handful of others were clustering in a hovering pattern, bearing great longbows fashioned of a single stave of wood. Arrows fletched with large, black feathers were being set to the bowstrings as the archers searched out targets below.

Many of the airborne warriors bore rectangular shields, crafted of wooden planking faced with plain hide coverings. The shields were suspended by thick leather straps across their shoulders and backs, keeping their hands freed up. The warriors’ left hands held onto the reins of their sky steeds tightly, while they brandished their weapons in their right.

As Lee looked out upon the developing melee, the first of the sky riders swooped downward at a high speed that was a challenge to follow with the eye.

The iron-helmed flier at the lead of the attackers roared a furious battle cry, bringing its steed swiftly lower with a few others diving in its wake. Wielding one of the sword-like weapons, the lead warrior kept its arm forward of its steed’s wings, holding the blade angled back. The sky rider adroitly guided its steed to come up on the shield side of a horse rider that was racing just ahead.

The winged steed stretched its wings out and glided through the short remaining distance, closing quickly as it allowed its rider to bring the blade back farther for a powerful attack. The sky warrior did not strike at the horse rider, but rather slashed viciously at his mount, blood spraying in the aftermath.

Crumbling to the ground with a hideous scream and a mortal wound to its neck, the horse threw its rider off. The man flew forward, and cried out in pain as he slammed hard into the unyielding ground just a few strides ahead of his horse.

The rider had not even regained his feet when a second flier swooped in, bearing one of the long-hafted weapons with the extensive, heavy blades. With a frenzied battle cry, the sky rider whipped the great weapon through the air with both of its heavily muscled arms. The blade cleaved right through the man’s head, the headless body wavering for a moment before slumping to the ground. The flier shook the bloodied weapon vigorously, uttering another loud war cry as the winged steed carried them onward.

The horse riders were continuing to spray outward, into all directions, perhaps hoping to confuse the attackers that so greatly outnumbered them up above. If so, it soon became apparent that their efforts were in vain, as the fliers swarming the area were gradually singling out horse riders, honing in on them with lethal intent.

The fliers who had long bows were now loosing arrows from their hovering mounts, the missiles streaking towards their intended targets. The ones with javelins were jettisoning their own missiles, by robust throws from steeds kept to a slow, steady glide.

Outnumbered and confined to the ground, it soon became quite clear that the horse riders were at a great disadvantage.

Using their long lances, and in some cases resorting to javelins themselves, the horse riders did whatever they could to repel and frustrate the attacks, at least whenever their assailants came close enough.

Lee saw one horseman come to the aid of another whose assailant was closing in fast. Racing his horse up alongside the gliding enemy warrior, the human sent a javelin hurtling to lodge in the body of the attacker, just as its long blade was about to arc down towards the other human rider.

The victory was short lived, as the javelin-thrower did not see the thrust of the spear from another non-human warrior coming from behind him, impaling his own body scant moments after he had interceded for his comrade.

A bloody, furious struggle evolved, though the horse riders were steadily whittled down in the relentless, overwhelming assault by the aerial attackers.

Lee could not help but be impressed at the incredible skill of the non-human warriors. Even their winged steeds were living weapons, working in close harmony with their riders.

In a couple of instances, Lee saw the sky steeds utilize their powerful claws effectively, lowering their legs and viciously raking humans right off the backs of their galloping horses.

The sky riders continued to work in close concert with each other. Several endeavored to herd the beleaguered horse riders back in, while others rushed in immediately to finish off the dazed and injured riders that had been knocked from their mounts.

On occasion, such as when a horseman whirled to present lance and shield to the flying attacker, there was a firm attempt to continue the attack. Yet more often than not in such instances, the assailants from above merely banked their steeds away from their approach before the horseman could have any chance to inflict damage.

Lee did witness one horseman who was able to get in a lethal thrust against one of the attackers. The horseman’s spear rushed up from a strong, overhand grip to meet the forward momentum of the incoming sky rider, the force of both movements converging to spike the attacker. The horseman immediately had to let go of his deeply lodged weapon, as the beast-man’s body was blasted right from its low saddle.

The triumph was temporary, as another sky-borne warrior dove in to avenge its fallen comrade. Before the horseman could unsheathe his own sword and bring it up to fend off the assault, he was beheaded by the heavy blade of the attacker’s sword-like weapon.

Cries of agony were filling the air, coming from horses, humans, and a few of the inhuman assailants and their unusual, flying steeds. The end of the battle was approaching from what Lee could tell, and the result looked inevitable.

Several of the skyward warriors began to land their steeds upon the ground. The massive riders leaped off of their mounts with astonishing dexterity, especially given their considerable size. Readying their weapons and shields, they charged with a raging fury at the surviving human warriors that had been unhorsed. Their sharp, long teeth were bared in a feral mask of maddened frenzy as they brandished their weapons.

The dismounted human warriors responded with a fiery resolve of their own, several drawing swords out to meet the onslaught from their fearsome attackers. They showed no outward signs of fear, and now that the fighting field had been more leveled, proceeded to acquit themselves better.

They shouted out their own raucous battle cries, the words seeming to charge them with impetus and tenacity.

The sounds of clashing steel were added to the chorus of the fray, along with the thuds and cracks of heavy blows upon the thick wooden planking of both round and rectangular shields.

The awesome strength of the inhuman attackers was made very apparent, as round shields held by the defenders were broken asunder. Chunks of wood exploded out in showers of shards and splinters, fracturing under the heavy blades of the beast-men’s sword-like weapons, and the even more unique, long-hafted ones.

There was no give on either side. The attackers roared with a deep, wrathful vigor, and the men shouted angrily back in response, each side matching the other’s mettle.

Lee’s heart grew heavy as he watched the combat, knowing that the fates of the human defenders were almost certainly sealed. Gradually, a small remnant of the surviving horsemen was herded together by a encroaching circle of the bestial warriors. With no route of escape left, the humans were forced into a last stand against their relentless oppressors.

Weapons clashed fiercely, flesh and muscle was pierced and slashed, and bones were crushed. Casualties were incurred upon both sides during the last, frenzied moments of the fighting.

The last of the men to fall was the apparent leader of the horsemen, the one wearing the vambraces and greaves that Lee had witnessed riding close to the standard-bearer at the onset of the fight.

Lee was a little surprised that the beast-men took any risks with the lone remaining human, trapped as he was without hope of escape. The archers among the sky warriors could have taken him down with little difficulty, but those that still held their bows had lowered them, and held no arrows in their free hands.

The valiant human fighter undoubtedly understood his dire situation, but if he felt any fear, it did not show. His blade flashed in the sun as he wielded it adroitly, bringing down one of the beast-men after deftly avoiding the cleaving blow of a long-hafted weapon.

He did not hesitate as his mortally-stricken opponent stumbled and pitched over to lie still, already lunging towards another tall enemy warrior. Delivering a gash to the thigh of the enemy fighter, the man held his ground as his bleeding attacker gave way and backed up a step.

The man then straightened up and got into a balanced stance, as one particular sky rider shouldered past its comrades to confront the fierce human warrior. A terrible scowl was on the face of the new challenger, and the other sky warriors, including the one that had just been wounded, stepped back a couple of paces to give the two combatants a wider berth.

It was the sky rider that had led the attackers out over the plains, the first one of them to descend. Lee deemed that the warrior was the human’s counterpart among the airborne force.

The sky rider was a very mighty specimen amongst the inhuman warriors. Seen close to its comrades, it was quite evident that the warrior far surpassed the exceptional stature and mass inherent in its kind.

The human fighter staggered as the clang of the first blow echoed loudly across the grassland, having barely blocked the first strike of his towering opponent. With a loud cry, the human used his shield to barrel directly forward, driving his much larger opponent back a step as their shields collided.

Shuffling back quickly to create some space, the human fighter set himself again, taking up a balanced position and coldly eyeing the beast-man. With a roar, the sky rider stomped forward and raised its sword-like weapon up to strike again.

The human warrior acquitted himself well in the ensuing fight, but was finally hewn down after a rabid exchange of blows with the brawny, iron-helmed warrior.

Wielding the huge, sword-like weapon with amazing speed, the sky warrior finally found an opening in the human’s defenses after a few previous attempts had been capably blocked by the horseman’s own blade and shield. The sky warrior’s blade raced into a slim gap of space as the human’s sword was caught on the other’s large shield.

Lee felt a pang of sadness as the brave human warrior dropped to his knees in the wake of the devastating slash, before toppling over to the ground, dead at the feet of his slayer.

Curiously, after the human leader had been felled, and the field of battle had fallen eerily silent, the savage posture of the inhuman warriors dissipated rapidly. The fighting over, it was as if the blood-lust that they had exhibited suddenly released its grip upon them.

The huge sky warrior knelt down upon one knee at the side of the horsemen’s slain leader. With a massive hand, the sky rider picked up the fallen warrior’s sword, from where it had fallen from his grasp, and carefully returned it to the dead man’s grip. The sky warrior, who had only recently been a tempest of martial ardor, looked uncannily gentle in its movements.

There was a respectful aspect to the purposeful gesture, and Lee could not help but think that the hulking warrior was honoring the skill and fortitude of its fallen opponent.

No more than seven or eight of the attacking war band had been killed in the fighting, with a few more wounded, in comparison with every last one of the horse riders being slain.

A few horses had died as well, though a great majority had made it through the battle without serious injury. Several of the rider-less horses were wandering aimlessly nearby, or cantering farther off in continued fright, with nobody left to guide them.

The victorious attackers proceeded to systematically check the corpses littering the area, and to Lee’s eyes they appeared to be making sure that the humans were indeed dead. No human survivors were discovered, but there were a few critically injured horses in the vicinity that still had breath in them. Without hesitation, and without any sign of pleasure, the inhuman warriors quickly put the beasts out of their misery with focused, singular blows.

The bestial faces of the warriors, and their absolute ferocity in battle, were quite unsettling, in a primeval way. Yet Lee observed that these warriors were not simply animalistic barbarians. Their complex nature was acutely reflected in the way in which they went around the fallen humans, and attended to the mortally wounded steeds.

A couple of sideways glances revealed that Lee’s companions were similarly spellbound by the sights and frozen in place, with nary a breath to disturb the air and invite discovery.

As Lee continued to observe them, the creatures spoke to each other from time to time in a guttural language. Though rough in manner, it was very clear that the warriors were highly disciplined and well-organized. Watching their exchanges, Lee was left with no doubts that the huge one that had felled the human leader did indeed hold the primary authority over the entire group.

The extraordinary winged steeds that the beast-men rode lingered in patience for their masters, a few emitting low whines or barks. A couple of the ones situated closer together nipped and snarled at each other.

When the riders were completely finished with their inspection of the battlefield, the huge leader shouted to all of them. At the leader’s call, there was a little spark of hesitance, which flared suddenly into reticence among the others. The leader seemed to be expecting the reaction, speaking sharply as the others cast glances about at the fallen humans and those of their own race.

At first, Lee had been sure that the taciturn response had something to do with the fallen non-human warriors, but the more that he watched their deliberate glances include the human warriors, he was not quite so sure.

The leader shook its great head emphatically from side to side, in an unmistakable negation to the unvoiced objection that the others were clearly referencing.

The leader then spoke again, its tone changing and lowering in volume, as its next words came out slower. Lee was positive that the leader was addressing the unspoken desire within the others in a more sympathetic fashion.

The leader glanced around at the corpses, shook its head again, and finished its address with a few words that took on a more authoritative timbre. The other warriors seemed to be largely assuaged from whatever issue had initially troubled them. A few of them hurriedly went over to their fallen brethren, carefully removing amulets and other small objects from the bodies of the dead beast-men.

Before standing back up, the living warriors bowed their heads, some laying their massive hands upon the shoulders of the prone bodies. Lee could see their lips moving as they uttered last words at the sides of their comrades.

The few sky steeds that had carried the fallen among the beast-men were then wrangled and brought together with the others. Lee took note that these had not strayed far from the vicinity of the rest of the steeds. All of the warriors eventually proceeded to stride back to their winged steeds and mount them.

The huge leader was the last one into the saddle. A few moments later, after a loud cry from the prominent warrior, the riders spurred their exotic steeds into motion. The creatures spread their wings, lurched into a short, bounding run, and leaped towards the sky. With powerful, snapping flaps, the mounts carried their riders up into the air. The steeds with empty saddles followed the cue of their brethren, as if trained, pursuing the others off of the ground and up towards the sky.

Lee watched the steeds beat their wings vigorously as they climbed towards the heavens, gaining height steadily on a sharp incline. In a loose formation, the great steeds finally leveled out, as they carried the throng of menacing sky riders across the rolling plains, heading into the distance towards the west and the setting sun.

Lee and the others remained motionless long after the riders were just mere specks on the far horizon. Nobody so much as moved or spoke, until those specks had completely disappeared from view.

“Don’t ask me,” Lee commented at last, his eyes slowly lowering to gaze upon the garish collection of corpses strewn all about the grounds ahead of them.

His heart sank.

A predatory, bird-like creature, like that faced by Erin and Lynn upon their entrance into the new world, was one type of danger. Bands of well-armed fighters, fully equipped with iron weapons and riding upon incredible winged steeds, was another level of threat entirely.

“Maybe we could use some weapons, from out there,” Ryan then suggested, pointing out towards the dead warriors. “These stakes aren’t going to do us much good, especially if we run into either of those who were in the fight.”

Lee was impressed by Ryan’s proposition, especially the fact that he had not assumed that the humans would automatically be receptive to their group. It reminded Lee to maintain a better wariness himself, and to presume nothing about the things of this new world, no matter how familiar they might look at first.

“I think that’s an excellent idea. We should take advantage of it while we know that the area is clear right now,” Lee concurred.

“I’m not going out there,” Erin stated flatly. “No way. If those things come back, there is no way we are going to get away. If a couple dozen armed fighters on horses can’t survive, then how the hell will four of us?”

Without saying a word, Lynn got up with a somber expression and started forward. Just a few strides carried her out of the shelter of the forest, and out under the open sky.

She paused for a moment, and turned back to the others. Her eyes fixed solidly upon Erin.

“We can’t just wait for the trouble to find us. This might be a chance that we won’t have again, or anytime soon,” she stated. “We have to try and be prepared somehow, and I would rather do it with what those dead men were carrying, than with the sticks we have now.”

Lee got up and trotted out after her. Ryan finally got to his feet and jogged to catch up with them, after some initial hesitation.

“Let’s get it done quickly,” Lee remarked to them.

Erin remained behind, clearly not willing to budge from her hiding place.

Lee reached the first of the dead human fighters, one of those who had taken part in the final stand. His heart raced, and he momentarily shivered as he looked down upon the dead man’s inert face.

The man’s glassy, lifeless gaze stared back up at him. A gaping wound had been opened in his chest, where a large spear blade had been lodged and then ripped back out. Blood soaked the ground around the body, though the flow of it had ceased.

Lee glanced towards Lynn, who was standing by another fallen human warrior. A few tears had come to her eyes, as she stared in an almost mesmerized fashion into the stark visage of death beneath her.

Taking a deep breath, and struggling to regain his composure, Lee forced his eyes back to the slain human underneath him. The man looked to be in his early twenties, his weathered face unable to mask the youthful luster that still lingered underneath the hardened edges.

The light of life was entirely absent, but the man’s face had settled into a peaceful expression that conflicted profoundly with the brutal violence of his demise.

Lee had to pause again, as this experience was something that he was not well prepared for. The males in their twenties that he had previously known were normally busy with school or work, their concerns related to careers, relationships, or entertainment.

Lee certainly did not come from an environment where bodies were left torn and broken under an impassive sky, sprawled right before his very eyes.

He was not so naïve to think that his own world was immune from such horrid things. Terrible sights occurred frequently, indeed every day, in the far corners of that world. It was simply that he did not encounter such awful visions so closely, and intimately, in the world he had left behind. He was certainly not steeled for what he was now seeing all around him.

Lee glanced again towards Lynn.

She had averted her eyes from the warrior’s face, turning her head to the side as she picked up a sword that was lying near to the fallen man. She gripped the hilt and raised the weapon upward, the flesh of her hand pressed against the short, straight cross-guard.

The blade was long and straight, double-edged with a broad fuller running down its center. The hilt had a tightly-wound leather grip, and a multi-lobbed pommel.

As she lifted the sword, Lee saw that it was a little heavy for her to lift in one hand. She then gripped it in both hands, taking a hesitant, awkward swing through the air with the blade. With two hands, Lynn demonstrated that she held enough strength to swing the weapon with some purpose.

Lee then picked up a sword from the man at his feet, very comparable to the one that Lynn had taken, except for its hazelnut-shaped pommel. He kept the sword with him as he walked onward, feeling the considerable weight of it tugging at his arm. He proceeded a little farther out, striding over to another fallen warrior, whose horse’s body lay nearby. Eyeing the dead horse, he moved over to it, to see what might be found attached to the saddle and harnessing.

He searched through the man’s equipment, discovering a strung longbow and a quiver that was almost full of arrows.

“We could use that, for sure,” Ryan stated, from where he was strolling close to Lee.

Lee glanced up to him. “See if you can find some food on the slain horses. And remember to keep up a lookout. Any sign of anything whatsoever, and we bolt immediately for the woods. Got it?”

Ryan nodded, looking back up the sky and sweeping his gaze slowly across the horizons.

Lee did the same, and to his great relief the skies were empty of everything save for some drifting clouds and a descending, reddish sun. He shortly resumed his search, pausing occasionally to take appraisal of the horizons.

Among the corpses of the horses and men, Lee, Ryan, and Lynn found some leather pouches that held a small quantity of dried, salty meat, hard bread, and a little fresh water that was contained in leather skins.

Lee also took an interest in the large, single-edged daggers that many of the men had carried, claiming one of them for himself.

In addition, he gathered up all the small silvery coins that he came across among the possessions of the slain men. While most of the coins were fully intact, a portion of them had been cut into halves. A quick look at the half-coins told Lee that they were of the very same minting as the rest of the coins, though he wondered as to why they were not complete.

Knowing that the small silver coins held more hints about the world that Lee was now in, he examined several of the fully intact ones very closely. He turned them over in his hand, and held them up to bathe in the still-ample sunlight. Lee ran his ringers slowly over their edges, as if he could somehow absorb what the little silvery pieces had to tell him.

The coins were all of the same size, roughly a little smaller than the size of Lee’s thumbprint. They did not have a smooth surfacing, even in the areas without an image or letter displayed.

The obverse facing of the coins showed the side profiles of male figures, with lettering running around the circumference of the entire coin. The reverse side held more similar lettering around the edges, with a spear-shaped symbol occupying most of the inner surface.

Most of the coins, including all of the coins in the best condition, held the image of one particular man, who possessed a strong chin, nose, and full beard. Lee wondered who the man depicted on the coin was, assuming him to be a ruler or leader of the realm that the horse riders were a part of.

He also wondered what the prominently displayed spear shape symbolized, figuring that it was more iconic in nature than merely a simple representation of a common weapon.

The images, and Lee’s inability to read the lettering, created a little more frustration in him. Lee could not decipher anything specific from them. Having taken more time than he intended to with the coins, he placed them all back into his pocket. The questions that he had would have to be pondered at a later time.

When they finally finished gathering up foodstuffs, weapons, and other items, Lee and Ryan had each procured a bow, quiver with arrows, and a sword. Ryan had also taken up a hand axe, whose edge had been honed incredibly sharp.

Both had ended up leaving the long lances born by the horsemen where they lay about the ground.

Lee had taken a moment to consider the spears, with their sizeable iron blades and flaring wings of iron near the sockets. Though feeling reticent about the choice, he had opted not to take one.

They were most certainly solid weapons, and they could be used to keep an opponent at a distance. Yet there was no question that they would be entirely too cumbersome for Lee or any of the others to carry along, and he did not have any training in how to properly use them.

Lee and Ryan also claimed a couple of the very few remaining undamaged round shields, with their raised iron bosses set within the center. Lee looked at the narrow protrusions extending from the apex of the dome-like bosses, instantly realizing the potential of the shields as weapons themselves.

Ryan’s shield was solid red, with a yellow line around the rim, while Lee’s had broad, swirling segments of alternating red and blue upon its facing.

The shield was heavy, with a grip in the center placed just behind the iron boss. Lee was grateful for the thick, buckled leather strap on it, which he used to suspend and carry the shield over his back.

Some of the better items uncovered were small iron objects that were kept with pieces of flint. That alone promised to solve one looming problem that Lee saw coming, of what to do when they no longer had access to the fire-making implements from their former world. The two women’s lighters would not last forever.

Almost as an afterthought, he and Ryan added a couple of small, single-edged knives to their expanding collection of items. Lee surmised that the knives would come in very handy as tools, and would certainly be much more efficient in the shaping of wood than using the edges of rocks.

All the while, the dead bodies that they searched among continued to bother Lee’s conscience. The apprehension and misgivings that he felt mounted with each individual that he came across.

Even so, he could not help but continue to marvel at the nature of the fallen warriors’ equipment and appearances, as if they had stepped right out of the mists of time. His fascination was tempered by the stark reality of what had recently happened, as he found himself increasingly saddened by their terrible fates.

For the most part, Lee tried to keep the haunting feelings at bay, while going about his chosen task. He paused several times during the search, taking a moment to closely regard more than one of the individual men. He wondered what kind of men each of them were, and what kind of society they were a part of.

He wondered whether they were good men at heart, or whether he and his companions would have had something to fear from them. His thoughts lingered and dwelled with each new face that he came upon, and he felt a deep pang of regret as he knew that they would not be able to bury the men, or even burn their corpses.

Every one of the dead men had a mother, something that Lee pondered deeply as he thought of his own elderly mother. He thought of how traumatic something like this would be if it had happened to him, abandoned to rot out on some empty, windswept plain.

Lee bit back a swell of great frustration as he thought of the men’s family, friends, and others who would long wonder what had befallen the warriors that had been a regular part of their lives.

Lee wished dearly that he could do something for the men, but survival demanded cruel indifference. He accepted that he and his companions would be unable to attend to the men in any significant manner. It was unavoidable that their bodies would be left behind as simple fodder for carrion, and the drawn-out decay of the elements and time.

The utter helplessness of the situation pained Lee immensely, especially as he thought of everything in a much more personal sense, but there was really no choice. Each time the waves of sad regrets came over him, he clenched his jaws and went back to searching the bodies with a single-minded resolve.

The humans were not the only ones to cause him distress, as the bodies of the larger race of attackers proved to be another matter entirely.

Lee finally worked up enough nerve to examine a couple of the dead beast-men. He shuddered as he peered down at their inhuman visages. Up close, he saw that they had the broad, powerful jaws of a large canine, with huge, sharp teeth to match. Their pupils, staring lifelessly towards the sky above, were also similar to those of a dog or wolf.

Carefully, Lee removed one of the leather half-helms from one of the daunting creatures. He flinched in surprise as he saw that they had pointed ears, which were placed a little higher up on their heads, and oriented more forward, than were those on a human.

The removal of the half-helm also revealed the wide, high foreheads that the creatures had, with a hairline raised much higher than that of an average human. Their dense, thick locks of hair framed their faces and heads, looking much like a dark mane.

Yet as bestial as their intimidating forms were, so were they unmistakably human-like. Two arms culminating in massive, five-fingered hands, two legs, and several other aspects were akin to a human’s features.

Up close, Lee felt more than a little fear as he looked upon their bulging, corded muscularity. These were undoubtedly extremely strong creatures, an observation confirmed when Lee tried to heave up one of the intriguing long-hafted weapons with the equally lengthy blades.

Lee could lift the weapon up, but only slowly, and with great effort. He certainly could not wield it for its intended purpose.

It was no surprise that the weapons of these creatures were quite useless to Lee, or to anyone else within his party. Lee watched as Ryan came to a similar conclusion, as the young man had to use two hands just to heave up one of the beast-men’s sword-like weapons.

It took Lee only one attempt to realize that using one of their great bows would be impossible. He could not pull back the string more than a little, despite putting a tremendous effort into the endeavor. Ryan tried himself, and, though he strained immensely, could do little better than Lee.

All the while, Lynn had kept largely to herself. She had retained the initial sword that she had found. In addition, she had acquired a couple of the larger daggers with the broad, single-edged blades. Both daggers rested in well-crafted sheaths of leather and wood, reinforced with multiple bronze rings set near to their mouths, with bronze chapes capping the bottom.

One of the final things that Lee examined closely before departing the open ground was the pennon borne at the forefront of the contingent of horsemen. The haft that it was attached to had been severed through during the fighting, cleaved just below the curving pennon by one of the heavy blades of the attacking warriors.

Lee held the pennon gently in his hands, looking down at the tasseled fringe and the alternating blue and gold stripes of the ensign itself. As with the coins, he knew that the pennon held in its very hues and patterns some more information about the lands of the horse riders.

Setting down the pennon respectfully, Lee turned to look for the others and finish up their task.

Once all were laden down with their newfound items, and had satisfactorily concluded their exploration of the area, they returned together towards the safer harbor of the woods. Night was now falling over the forested hills and the rolling, grassy plains, twilight having settled in full upon the land as the sun sank beneath the western horizon. Lee looked about in the violet hues, and grimly realized that he and his companions probably would not be able to tell if any sky born threats were approaching.

While gaining the cover of the forest was imperative, Lee was simply glad to leave the grisly scene behind him. At the end of it all, he felt drained, and somewhat guilty. He loathed the great necessity of requisitioning the items off of the corpses of the valorous men, while leaving their bodies entirely exposed to the outer elements and hungry scavengers.

His mind told him otherwise, that there was no good choice, but that ultimately proved to be of little comfort in his very wearied state of emotional turmoil. Lee could only hope that in time he could fully reconcile with the dire needs of his group’s immediate situation, and that the troubling images bombarding him during the search would not often assault his dreams at night.

When they returned to the woods, and were under the thickly foliated boughs once again, Lee and the others found that Erin was still crouching right where they had left her. She was glaring at them, with a deep frown etched upon her face.

“Thanks for the help,” Ryan remarked sarcastically, as he drew near to her.

Lynn was evidently in no mood for Erin’s disposition either, as she glowered at her friend. Without saying a word, she slowly withdrew one of the large daggers that she had found out of its sheath, and shoved its hilt towards her stubborn friend.

“You might want this,” Lynn said curtly. “This should do a lot better than sticks if we run into more creatures, and can’t outrun them.”

Erin gingerly fingered the offered weapon. Surprisingly, she made a grimace as she took it in her hand and looked at it. She made no gesture of gratitude to Lynn for having thought of her in procuring the weapon, a response that instantly annoyed Lee.

“What, are you against this too?” Ryan inquired aggressively.

Erin shot him a hard look. Her tone was flippant. “So I don’t fool around with weapons much, or really care for them either.”

“Well, you’d better start right now, because I sure as hell don’t think that the things that we’ve seen can be easily reasoned with,” Ryan snapped. He gestured behind him, up towards the darkened skies. “Not the thing that flew after you, not the things that were just flying out there, and I doubt those beast men that were riding them. And who knows about the ones on the horses? Humans can be dangerous too.

“It’s pretty clear that this isn’t our world, and it definitely is like being in a whole different age. You’d better start caring real quick, Erin, about the rest of this group. If you choose not to eat, and continue to be stupid about that, that’s your problem. But you’d sure as hell better help us defend ourselves, because that’s my problem too … and if you don’t like it, you can take a walk right now.”

Erin looked entirely incredulous at the open berating by Ryan. More distressing, Lee could see the defensive hardening of resolve in her eyes.

Whether or not there would be any appeal to logic was no longer of a concern to Lee. The moment was degenerating quickly, into something that none of the group needed.

“Ryan, Erin, everyone!” Lee interjected firmly. “We’ve all gotta stay clear-headed, no matter how upset we get at anything.”

“We do,” Lynn then concurred in a low voice, nodding to Lee. She turned her head and looked with a stony expression towards Erin. “We can’t let emotions get in control. Lee’s right. We’ve gotta use our heads.”

Lee was immensely relieved. He knew that while he had some influence with Ryan, Lynn had the greater insight by far into her recalcitrant friend. There was little doubt that Lynn’s words were directed right at Erin, as much as they were also a reinforcement to Lee’s response.

Ryan took a long, slow breath, though not before shooting another angry, darting glance at Erin. He finally stated in a tense, low voice, “I guess so.”

“And things are a little better. We do have some more proper food now,” Lee said, holding up one of the leather pouches that he had taken from the saddle of one of the slain horses. “That’s some good news, at least.”

Erin stared at the large pouch, and then looked back to Lee. After a tense delay, she finally nodded, which was about as good as Lee believed that he could hope for.

Lee, Ryan, and Lynn then proceeded to occupy their time with dividing up the rest of the items. They continued until everyone had some type of pouch to carry things in, along with food rations and weapons.

Not all of the food rations were designated for storage.

The salty, tough dried meat could well have been the most succulent of roasts to Lee’s starved palate.

All four of them wolfed down some chunks of the hard bread, not complaining for a moment regarding its texture, and thorough plainness. Lee improvised, using some of the water from the skins that he had found to soften up his own piece. It was a tactic emulated rather quickly by the others.

Even Erin’s spirits lifted somewhat as they consumed some of the food together. The peaceful sounds of an undisturbed forest returned to reign all around them. The evening air cascaded down with an increasing coolness, seeming to accompany the gradual relaxation of Lee’s own emotions.

The gentle ambience, caressing winds passing through the leaves, chirping insects delivering their timeless forest song, and the soft blanket of evening serenity were healing salves to Lee’s body, mind, and spirit. They were most welcome conditions, especially after the furious, desperate sounds and sights of battle, and the investigation of the bloodied field in the fighting’s aftermath.

“Never thought I would be that enamored about the noises of insects,” Lynn remarked, echoing Lee’s own thoughts as she chewed on her last morsel of bread. Reaching down, she tenderly massaged the area around her knees, slowly kneading her skin and muscles with her fingers.

Lee, seated a few feet to her right, leaned back against a tree trunk and stretched his legs outward. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh as he lowered his hands to rest in his lap.

“It feels good just to relax for few a moments, without a hungry stomach,” Lee replied after a few moments. “I just wish we could call it a day right now.”

“But we can’t … I bet you were about to say that, weren’t you?” Ryan queried dourly.

“At least we can take a break for little while, can’t we?” Erin interjected with a plaintive tone. “Days and nights seem so long in this place anyway.”

“It would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Lee responded. He then shook his head regretfully, and his voice took on an equally melancholy timbre, “But there is a little more to the situation right now. There’s something I just realized.”

Lee could not believe that until that very moment he had completely overlooked the thought that was now foremost in his mind.

“So what more can there be right now?” Erin spat out, her ire rising once again. “I want to rest!”

“Rest for a few more minutes,” Lee replied rather gently, in response to her vitriolic tone. He greatly desired rest himself, and his sympathy outweighed his ongoing irritation with her attitude. “But I was just thinking that we don’t really want to stay at the site of recent battle. You never know what kind of attention it might bring. Wild … or intelligent.”

His logic and tone evidently caused Erin to choke back any further responses, as she held her tongue and stared off in sullen silence.

“Lee, you’re right. I didn’t think of that,” Lynn said, as a look of grave concern emerged swiftly within her eyes. She cast a nervous glance off in the direction of the grassy plains.

“And no argument here,” Ryan muttered.

“I still think we can risk taking a few moments, to settle ourselves and recoup our strength a little bit,” Lee said. “We just need to be out of here when daybreak comes.”

Taking the sustaining night sounds as a comforting sign, and letting his eyes close again, Lee implored the tightened muscles in his body to relax. He concentrated upon his sorely taxed, stiffened muscles one group at a time.

As the tightness in his physical body gradually eased, he thought about an interesting comment that Erin had made regarding the days and nights seeming long. The days within the new world did indeed seem to be lengthier, but whether that was because time was truly different, or instead a perception shaped by their unfamiliar circumstances, Lee could not yet tell for sure.

Whatever the case was, he did wish that they could afford to take a longer rest than was possible. Yet Lee knew that they needed to be vigilant, and vacate the premises well before dawn. Added to that was the need to locate another favorable area to settle down in.

Lee was not looking forward to setting up another makeshift shelter, beginning to dread the idea that it would soon become a regular practice. He let out another extended sigh, and reminded himself that very little in his life would be the same from that moment onward. At the very least, they now had some decent weapons and supplies in their possession.

He had almost fallen entirely asleep after his body had relaxed, but he was somehow able to hold onto the edge of his focus. After roughly an hour had passed, Lee judged that they had delayed long enough.

He got up and roused the rest of the drowsy group. Exhibiting varying degrees of reluctance at having to cease their rest, the others joined Lee in gathering up their newly procured items as they prepared to press onward.

The dual moons provided just enough light to see by, though Lee was not altogether pleased by the necessity of traveling through the forest at night. Keeping the grassy plains on their right, and the shadowy depths of the woodlands on their left, they marched in weary silence for several hours before finally halting. The moons had trekked across a fair span of the night sky overhead when they drew to a stop, and Lee was satisfied that they had put a considerable distance between themselves and the scene of the fighting.

Though very tired, none of others complained at having to erect another rough shelter, as the prospect of sleeping fully bared to the elements was very uninviting. The effort was made a little easier with the sharp iron implements now at their disposal.

Also easing the stress of the moment was the availability of a bit of dried meat, bread, and a few drinks of water. The rations of drink and food staved off the biting feelings of hunger that had arisen during the long hike, if not erasing them completely.

With the tree-covered expanse of hills to one side, and the broad, grassy plains to the other, Lee and his companions at last settled down for a truly extended rest.

This time, with a little luck, it would not be interrupted until the break of day.

Dragol

Flying at the head of a small patrol, Dragol gestured downward to where the fallen corpses of the Saxan horsemen, Trogen warriors, and a few horses were just beginning their lengthy process of decomposition. Some carrion eaters were already busy indulging themselves in a grisly, gluttonous feast, the sight instantly raising Dragol’s ire.

A couple of Trogen warriors in the modest war band broke away from the main body of the formation, in order to survey the surrounding area from their high elevation. As always, it was necessary to make certain that no imminent enemy presence was lurking about. Dragol watched the pair carefully as they coursed low over the edge of the dense forest. Encouragingly, there were no wisps of campfires lingering in the air over the forest, but the enemy was cautious, and nothing could be taken for granted.

After a few passes up and down the woodland boundary, the warriors settled into a circular pattern high over the area of the previous day’s fighting. Dawn had already broken for quite some time, and there was ample visibility within the new morning’s light.

The sky riders finally signaled back to Dragol that they had seen nothing amiss. Knowing well the keen eyes of the particular Trogens that he had assigned to such scouting tasks, Dragol was more than satisfied with their evaluation.

With a firm jerk upon the leather reins of his winged Harrak steed Rodor, Dragol guided the great beast swiftly in descent.

As the shadows of Dragol and his sky riders crossed over the carnage-strewn battle site, the winged carrion eaters took to immediate flight, and the four-legged ones scattered off rapidly in the direction of the nearby forest.

Alighting smoothly upon the ground, Dragol quickly unbuckled the straps securing him to the low saddle. They were a necessary precaution during longer distance traveling, though most Trogens, like Dragol, often left the straps hanging free during battle, so as to enable better movement in combat.

Bringing his right leg back around, he swung down off of his steed in a continuous, and oft-repeated, movement. Dragol then took a step forward, and gave Rodor a firm pat on the side of the creature’s amply muscled neck.

“Gather up swords, mail shirts, and any other valuables,” Dragol shouted out to the others, as they landed nearby. Dismounting hurriedly, the other Trogens moved rapidly to obey his orders, and strip the dead bodies.

Dragol did not like returning to the site of the previous day’s fighting. He had endured a very restless night, once again despising the fact that they were under strict commands not to bring any undue attention to themselves.

With night falling, and with the war band far away from their base camp, Dragol had to strictly adhere to his orders as darkness approached. He would have been tempted otherwise, had the circumstances been different.

His war band had been aghast when he had commanded them to depart without attending to the fallen warriors. Even the greatly hated Elven warriors, who fell in battle, were given the honors accorded to those deemed to have a genuine warrior’s heart. Dragol had been forced from extending any such honors, to either the capable Saxan horseman or to his own brave Trogens.

He was not supposed to tarry and allow any proper respects to be given now, though his conscience was again tearing at him from within.

A few Harraks, the steadfast, flying war steeds of the Trogens, had been brought along by the war band without riders. Instead of carrying warriors, they had large hempen sacks or small wooden chests strapped to their backs, in addition to coiled lengths of hide cordage. Their purpose was specific. The patrol had returned to the site to bear back any quality weapons and equipment that might be found.

Leaving the unattended implements behind for the night had been a risk, though it was one that had been unavoidable with night falling, and such a far distance to return. As they had flown away, Dragol had known that they would have to return briefly. Well-crafted swords, iron helms, and chain mail shirts were of great value to the enemy, and it was Dragol’s task to deprive the enemy of their further use.

Dragol strolled slowly among the bodies of the fallen warriors, his mind a tumult of thoughts and misgivings. He clenched his powerful jaws tightly at each troubling sight of one of the fallen Trogens, resenting his orders more and more with each passing moment. His mood blackened, as the bitterness flowed through him, bolstered by the each sight of a brave Trogen warrior who would not be honored properly.

The Trogen leader was not made to brood for very long. Dragol’s dark simmering was abruptly interrupted, as an unsettling discovery was brought to his attention.

“Others were here. Since the fighting. They were not Saxans. They could not even be Midragardans,” a stout Trogen with very broad shoulders reported quickly to Dragol, after hastening up to the massive Trogen chieftain. “They took very little with them, and left all the mail shirts and helms behind. No true warrior in these lands would leave such items unclaimed. Their tracks go back to the woods, and are very different in shape from those made by the humans of these lands.”

“And have you have examined the tracks?” Dragol asked the other Trogen, instantly curious about the very strange tidings.

The development was mystifying, for no Saxan party would have missed the chance to reclaim so many mail shirts, swords, helms, and other weapons. The armor and the weapons of the horse riders represented months upon months of hard, skilled labor by many blacksmiths. Such a quantity could not be replaced by the time that the full war broke out.

“Yes. They lead straight towards the woods. Three sets of footprints. A taller human, and two others, more average in height. They took a couple of shields, some swords, and some of the foodstuffs. Maybe a few more small items. Nothing from our fallen warriors. It also seems that they were not using any horses, or any other manner of steed,” the Trogen warrior answered.

“Where did they go in the woods?” Dragol asked, his eyes narrowing. The fact that they had not taken anything from the Trogen dead was even more perplexing, as even one Trogen weapon, like a longblade, would be solid, irrefutable proof to carry to anyone in order to testify to the presence of Dragol’s kind in Saxan lands.

“They rested, and then traveled onward, keeping to the edge of the forest at first,” the other Trogen replied. “But I came back to report to you, and did not follow those tracks very far.”

Dragol grew silent, as he considered the other’s discoveries carefully, mulling everything over. The other Trogen waited patiently for his response.

“Then we will have to search them out, for nobody must know of the Avanoran army approaching this territory,” Dragol finally responded in a firm tone.

He glared in the direction of the woods, knowing that the day was suddenly becoming quite problematic. Dragol was not privy to all the particulars of the events that were unfolding, but he clearly understood the core elements.

The invasion of Saxany was now imminent, which left little room for error on his part. Vast forces massed deep in Ehrengard to the west were even now crossing the eastern edges of that land, as they moved resolutely towards the borders of Saxany. Soon the juggernaut would cross that short stretch of borderland, and seek to hammer right through the center of the Saxan Kingdom. The numbers comprising the looming invasion were staggering, unlike any that had ever been assembled within the current age, or likely any other age.

A smaller Avanoran force, which was a modestly sized army in itself, would soon be breaking off from the teeming masses to head directly through the region where Dragol was now standing. The Avanorans’ unimpeded passage, and the crucial matter of determining their most advantageous route of travel, were squarely upon the shoulders of Dragol and the other Trogens.

Dragol understood that this second, offshoot force was integral to the overall invasion campaign. Its task was to penetrate the Saxan lands in such a way that the forces assembling for the defense of the Saxan Kingdom, against the main thrust of the invasion, could be outflanked, and then cut off from their own main route of escape.

The Trogen leader saw the simple brilliance in the plans envisioned by the powers in Avanor. The great hammer that was the primary invasion force would smash the defenders against the anvil formed by the smaller force.

Given what he thought of humankind, Dragol sometimes found himself wondering as to why the Saxans were so resolved to fight. He did not doubt that they were well aware of the immensity of the force that was being sent against them.

Most other human-ruled lands had capitulated to, or placated, Avanor without a battle having ever taken place. Why the Saxans were among the very few exceptions remained a question, though it made Dragol respect them more than those lands that had acquiesced and surrendered their ultimate sovereignty so easily.

It was in such moments of rumination that he acutely remembered his own troubled homelands, and the age-old, relentless struggles of the Trogens against the Elven menace.

The Trogens’ long-established nemesis held numerous advantages in the great conflict between the two races, but no matter how powerful the Elves were, no worthy Trogen would ever capitulate in the fight. The Trogens had suffered terribly for ages, but as a whole they still remained unconquered. Every last Trogen would resist until the Trogen population held captive within Elven lands was freed, and the shadow of the Elves’ persecution was fully removed from Trogen lands.

Seen in the light of his own kind’s struggle, Dragol could certainly relate to the spirited, defiant response of the Saxans. Their great resolve against insurmountable odds made him respect them all the more, which was precisely why his burden in the present moment was made that much more difficult. In the pure core of his heart, he wanted to extend honor to the Saxan dead as well as his own.

“Get the Harraks heading back to the camp, with the best weaponry and mail that can be taken from here. Take an escort of five warriors, and press with all haste to the encampment. The rest of us will set off to search after these unknown scavengers,” Dragol stated to the other Trogen.

“It shall be done,” the Trogen answered, lowering his golden eyes and giving a slight bow of the head.

Dragol then personally selected the five warrior escorts that would return with the confiscated swords, helms, and mail shirts. All were exceptional fighters, which would help offset the lack of numbers in the returning party. The Saxans had not yet appeared upon their own breed of sky steeds, to challenge the Trogens in the skies over their lands, but Dragol was not about to become reckless in carrying out his charges.

The orders were promptly carried out. The pack-bearing Harraks were soon loaded up to capacity with the remaining weapons, both Trogen and Saxan, and any other prominent items that could be salvaged and denied to the enemy.

Accompanied by the six Trogen warriors, the small group of Harraks was spurred forward and off of the ground. The contingent flew off at a slow pace, laden with the confiscated items.

Dragol watched their departure for a few moments, and then brought his eyes back to his immediate surroundings. He gnashed his teeth in bitter regret as his eyes came across the body of a particular young Trogen warrior that had fallen the previous day. He knew the warrior well, who had been one of his personal favorites.

The dead warrior’s amulet, set with large claws from the great forest wolverines for which his clan was named, had already been retrieved. Small personal items, especially those things that related to a warrior’s clan affiliation, had been immediately taken so that the warriors could be honored and remembered at a later time. Items such as the amulet would be passed on with great reverence, to be held with pride by others in the clan that the slain warrior had belonged to.

Dragol simply wished that he could set fire to the bodies of the brave Trogen warriors, as well as to those of the equally courageous enemy fighters. None of them deserved to have their remains be food for carrion. All of the slain fighters deserved a welcome place in Elysium.

Yet he knew that he could not allow their bodies to be consumed by flame. The smoke from the open fires would signal to the enemy for leagues around. It would mark the vital territory for a wary enemy, one that could adjust and more capably prepare for the approaching incursion.

In war, even the slightest change in timing or advantage could become critical to the outcome.

Dragol tore his eyes away, and with a loud cry he summoned the other Trogens back to their steeds. He mounted his stalwart, dutiful Harrak, which had remained in place for him where he had left it. He took up the creature’s reins after buckling the straps that secured him to the low saddle.

Dragol, with fifteen other riders gathered about him, gave another resonant shout. At the signal, the steeds surged forward in a staggered line, sprang upward, and ascended into the air on the strength of their powerful wings. The Trogens headed off in the direction of the forest, almost immediately reaching its border following the take-off from the ground.

Dragol skimmed with the others a short distance above the surface of the trees, his eyes watching closely for any signs of movement. He signaled to the others to be as quiet as possible. The group glided in relative silence over the woodlands as they headed southward, the wind whistling by their heads as they cut through the air. Rodor bumped and rocked lightly as they shadowed the border of the forest, and Dragol settled into his saddle, acclimating to the familiar sensations of air travel. With little turbulence, there was not much to distract him from the search.

Dragol hoped to sight, and then close in upon, their quarry soon. He did not like having to deviate from the main tasks facing the Trogen warriors.

The amount of territory that could be covered from the sky was substantial, and would easily encompass any distance achieved by a party on foot. Whoever had visited the battle site had a full day’s lead, though, and the Trogens only knew of the initial direction that they had taken.

Some luck would be needed, but Dragol was not overly worried. Unlike the dilemma that the Trogens had faced at the end of the previous day’s fighting, which had forced them to depart for the evening, there was plenty of daylight remaining this time.

Whether sooner or later in the day, Dragol was confident that the unidentified visitors to the battle site would eventually be discovered.