Stephen Zimmer - Crown of Vengeance

The feared mercenary band, from deep within Ehrengard, needed no legend to magnify their brutality. Ferocious warriors, they were an advantage to those princes who chose to hire them. Yet once turned loose, they were like a fire unleashed in a dry forest.

They could not be reasoned with, nor could mercy be found anywhere in their darkened hearts. Even the coldest of souls among those that hired them could not help but cringe at the tales of the atrocities that the Halmlander committed in pillaged towns and villages, to sate their seemingly inexhaustible bloodlust.

In battle, the black-hearted mercenaries were indeed well disciplined, fearless, and steadfast. Few commanders could hope to find better infantry. They had turned the course of battles around by themselves, and refused to break ranks, no matter what transpired around them.

Following a battle, especially in a sacked city, town, or village, they transformed into the most rabid and demonic of men. Their depravity knew no bounds.

Despite this, their battlefield value was too great for any prince bent on conquest to ignore. Using them also kept the Halmlander from becoming too restless within the lands of Ehrengard itself.

If left unpaid and unused for too long, the amalgam of former criminals, deserters, heretics, and other manner of rogues would heed no authority. They were not above visiting their devilry upon Ehrengard’s own lands, as some royal magnates and nobles had learned in the past, to their great dismay.

“The Halmlander may be the greatest reason why the shield wall must hold and not waver. My heart is as yours. They must not get through, no matter the cost,” Aelfric replied carefully, sharing their fears on the matter.

He looked to Count Arnulf, and held the man’s eyes. The look in the Count’s eyes was nothing like that in Godric’s. It was a firm gaze, filled with an honest confidence and sense of conviction. It was also a look that reflected a strong trust in Aelfric.

“The Halmlander will not be hard to find when the battle begins. You may be certain of that, Count Arnulf,” Aelfric continued, his steadfast gaze conveying his intent. “When we find them, we will look to strike them hardest of all… and we will look for them from the moment that the enemy first steps onto the battlefield. You have my word on that, Count Arnulf.”

A look of relief washed across Count Arnulf’s tense face. There was no argument forthcoming from any of the others. Many proceeded to voice their vigorous assent to Aelfric’s reassurance that the Halmlander would be actively sought out on the battlefield, without delay. The heavy air within the confined space lightened considerably.

The brisk chatter that was stimulated among them finally died down, as Aelfric patiently awaited the return of their attention.

“And is there anything else? Nay, I should ask, could there be anything else?” Agobard asked with incredulity. Aelfric could read in the man’s face that he had come to realize the full breadth of the dark onslaught marshalling to face them. “Are there even more to be sent against us?”

Again, Aelfric nodded, and the assemblage grew very quiet as a look of dismay spread openly on Agobard’s face. Every ear in the room was fully attentive to the Ealdorman once more.

“I would hide nothing from any of you,” Aelfric began. “As I have said, we have gathered what word we can. You can expect there to be more of the unexpected among the enemy ranks. It has been said to me that the Unifier will bring others who are not of a human nature. Like the army from the Sun Lands, these will be used to frighten and confuse us, taking advantage of our unfamiliarity with their appearances and methods.

“A strong race of beings called Trogens serve as the bulk of the Unifier’s sky forces. They are known to be a very fierce race, larger, broader, and stronger than humans. Their bestial appearance may be unsettling, as I have heard that the human warriors of the Unifier call them dog-men, though this is said in derision and mockery of them.

“It is said that they fight with a great and terrible fury. I have heard it said, from our spies and emissaries, that the Trogens speak of a promise given to them from the Unifier. The Unifier has promised to help them in the face of an ages-old oppression upon their kind by the Northern Elves… if they serve Him in this current war.

“Such a promise will only make them fight harder, for I have read that they have suffered a tremendous oppression for many ages, and that many of their kind are held in bondage within Elven lands. They will not enter the battle for lands or wealth, but rather to gain liberation for their kind. Such creatures will not be easy to overcome.

“Some word has also come to us that there are others… of an even larger and more ferocious race than the Trogens, though what these unknown creatures might be, I do not yet know.

“I have no word of any other forces that the Unifier might be sending, but that does not mean that there will not be other strange contingents present in their ranks. We must expect to confront much that we do not now foresee.”

His eyes carefully roamed the room in the weighty silence that followed. The word of the Halmlander and the presence of non-human creatures had obviously rattled a number of the men, but he could see the resolve re-emerging quickly upon their faces and within their eyes, as he quietly took his measure of them.

Their reaction was a very hopeful sign.

“No matter what they may throw at us, do not lose heart, good warriors of Saxany. You will see that great strength has been mustered to meet this threat to us all,” Aelfric stated.

He then looked towards three figures standing just to his left. Their stoic demeanor had not changed at all during his earlier words with the others. Determined eyes looked back to Aelfric, glinting in the reflection of firelight from a couple of nearby braziers, and what little daylight entered through the entry flaps of the large tent.

In the center of the trio was the tall, regal figure of Count Gerard II of Bretica. He was the senior personage among the three, and the most stout of build. Half a head taller, and standing to Count Gerard’s right, was Count Leidrad of Poitaine, a man of very tough appearance.

Both Counts had arrived with strong, experienced forces. The two men alone represented a substantial proportion of the Saxan cavalry that would be taking part in the coming battle. They knew each other very well, and had campaigned several times before within the Western Marches of Saxany.

To Count Gerard’s left was Count Einhard of Annenheim. Of medium build, Count Einhard was a little shorter of height than Count Gerard. The youngest of the three by several years, his thick, dark beard, and coarse, shoulder-length locks framed a well-proportioned, attractive face with very defined lines. His smooth skin held no marks or blemishes, and many daughters of nobles regularly bemoaned the fact that he had taken a wife only three years before.

To judge him by his youthful look and slighter build, some would have wondered why he stood so confidently in the company of the two other exalted men. Aelfric knew that to make such a conclusion would be to make an extensive underestimation.

Count Gerard had certainly made no such underestimation, for it was his very own daughter’s hand that he had happily given in marriage to the young Count of the northern Saxan province.

Light blue eyes were filled with a sharp alertness and keen intelligence, traits that had earned Count Einhard great respect from both Count Gerard and Count Leidrad. He had long since proven his bravery beyond reproach in the midst of border skirmishes. Like the other two counts, he had also not hesitated to come to the support of the margraves within the Western Marches.