Stephen Zimmer: Dream of Legends

“Those with zeal for the Holy Wars will be sent against him. It will keep the most ardent of that kind well occupied, and away from harassment of your own lands. Baron Osbern of Rocheston, in Norengal, departs with a great force of such warriors soon enough.”

He looked to each of the Fahtamid delegates, to let his words sink into them. He had addressed their Khalif’s greatest worries outright, before they had even spoken a single word aloud regarding them. Their sheer amazement at His uncanny perception was evident in their astonished expressions. He was channeling their sworn enemies to fight their upstart enemy, and in the process fulfilling both their Khalif’s and the Unifier’s will.

Looking up, His encompassing gaze swept back over the crowd once again.

“Those serving in My court will attend to each of you now, to go over particular matters involved in this campaign. From some, I will need supplies. From others, men. From others, ships. Fulfill their requests as if they came directly from Me. Move with the greatest of speed. We are on the edge of victory, and everything must be committed towards the final struggle.”

The Unifier then let the first smile of the gathering creep onto His face. In form, it was the balanced, graceful expression that He displayed to public crowds, but oddly, the crowd of emissaries felt no relief at the change of countenance.

“Your reward is upon the horizon. A world of new wonders awaits you all.”

The Unifier’s grand words did not soothe them either, and most simply attributed it to having become too pensive, for too extended a period of time. The Unifier did not wait for any kind of subsequent response. The citadel guards falling in around Him when He reached the bottom, He descended the steps of the dais and strode gracefully from the chamber, leaving the gathered delegations and emissaries behind Him.

His heavy steps echoed in the great hall, and not one in the assembly felt any impetus to move, or even talk, until He had entirely departed. A reverent silence lingered for several more moments in the chamber, as if the Unifier’s presence was still there among them.

Excited conversation finally broke the disquiet and spread rapidly throughout the gathering. The talk of a final battle to unite an entire world, the mustering of a vast naval expedition, and the word of the Sorcerers of Avalos being dispatched to their various lands was virtually overwhelming to take in at once.

Within hours, the clerks and high officers of the Unifier’s court would disseminate the specific requests being made of each delegation. They would be very efficient, seeking to hasten the emissaries onward to their respective lands, Kings, Emperors, Emirs, Sultans, Princes, and Khalifs.

The emissaries found themselves quite eager to attend to their tasks, with no further delay. Thoughts of feasting and luxuries had fled from their minds. The absence of such desires was an irony, as they had all experienced great discomfort, having not eaten much in their hurry to arrive in Avalos in time for the assembly.

The Unifier’s directives were all that they could think of, as the resources and peoples of many great lands were being set into motion. Such was the pervasive, and encompassing nature of the Unifier.

A great storm filling the horizons was building, soon to be loosed in full force upon the world.

Dragol’s Harrak, like the others in his loose formation, flew in a slow, circular pattern, far above the hilly, tree-blanketed terrain. The wings of the sky steed were spread wide, clinging to the flowing air as the Trogens drifted smoothly, carefully scanning the area below with their sharp eyes.

To any observer upon the ground, the Trogen sky riders appeared content to glide upon the gentle currents of the air. To a Saxan, they would have appeared like so many carrion birds, swirling over an espied carcass.

In truth, there was no degree of contentment within Dragol’s tumultuous mind. In the depths of his thoughts, the huge warrior would have found agreement to a Saxan’s comparison of the Trogens to carrion birds.

It was a loathsome feeling to see himself, and his fellow Trogens, akin to glorified carrion birds, trailing and shadowing the harbinger of impending carnage; a scavenger, not a hunter.

The hunters, what the Trogens should have been in Dragol’s mind, were moving below. A substantial force from Avanor, like a vast winding serpent, was pressing towards the outermost boundary of Saxany’s hilly, northwestern forests. The fast pace of the march was conducted at the direct behest of the Unifier, conveyed through the Lord Generals of Avalos. There was no toleration of delay, as the leaders of the ground forces spurred the men onward in a forced march.

Word had come to Dragol and the other sky riders that the main invasion armies were finally amassing on the border of Saxany, near a place called the Plains of Athelney. He knew that it would not be much longer before they would be engaged in heavy combat.

Other tidings he had gleaned from messengers indicated that the Saxans had levied a very formidable army of their own on the Plains to contest the imminent invasion.

A colossal clash of armies was in the offing.

The strategy of the second, comparatively much smaller Avanoran force below was simple enough, in light of the overall circumstances. Tragan had been quite clear about the scenario when he had given Dragol and the others their firm orders.

The smaller, second army of Avanor would curl through the forest, to emerge onto the Plains behind the main Saxan army. Not only would they have the opportunity to strike from behind, they would effectively drive a wedge between the Saxan front lines and any potential relief forces.

Additionally, if the Avanorans gained their desired position, it prevented any escape route for the Saxans involved in the main battle out on the Plains. The jaws of the Unifier’s armies would easily be able to close down and crush the Saxans arrayed out on those Plains. The battle for the renegade kingdom that still defied the Unifier, and the emerging new world, would be over with the destruction of that army.

It would then just be a matter of occupying the many towns and villages, and destroying any lingering rebellious elements. The ensuing campaign would be done much like the way faraway Norengal was once conquered by the Avanorans. The back of the defenders broken in one giant battle, the invaders would proceed onward to stamp out the scattered, residual resistance in a harshly executed campaign.

The strategy made good, logical sense, in terms of seeking one decisive blow, and winning an entire war in one battle. Yet despite the imminent importance of the movements below, the minds of most of the Trogen warriors around Dragol were undoubtedly distracted. Other, more disturbing reports had also reached their camp, and had spread quickly amongst their kind.

The first Darrok raid on the Five Realms had ended, and the Trogens were seething at the stark reports of what had transpired. It was the first major use of Darroks in war, and the Avanorans had evidently believed that there was nothing that could challenge the flying hulks in the sky. An Avanoran viscount named Adhemar had believed that archers alone could ward the behemoths. He had concentrated on sending the Darroks forth with greater loads of stones, dismissing concerns of the tribal warriors mounting any kind of defense that could actually threaten the juggernauts.

Messengers spoke extensively of how the tribal warriors had indeed mustered a daring and effective defense in the skies. They had flown up from the forest upon their Brega to vigorously assault the unescorted Darroks. They had succeeded in driving the great creatures off before the Darroks could be fully used to strike more areas, beyond one hapless village that they had initially destroyed.