Stephen Zimmer - Crown of Vengeance

Heeding Ayenwatha’s call, Janus shouted out to his own group and any villagers nearby, “To the river! To the river!”

He saw Ayenwatha racing down amid rows of longhouses, accompanied by several Onan warriors. They were out of sight in just a few seconds.

Janus and the others did not stop to consider why Ayenwatha would race in towards the very center of the bombardment. Janus and his companions hurried across the open ground towards the front gateway in the outer palisade.

Rocks fell to their right, left, in front and in back of them. More cries filled the air, but fortune remained with the outsiders as none were stricken, though Antonio and Janus both came within just a couple paces of being pulverized by one large boulder. They finally won their way unscathed past the open gate of the village and started down the long hill slope.

In his panic, Kent lost his footing, tumbling down the slope. Derek caught up to him, and helped his friend up quickly. The others barely kept to their feet in their own frenzied haste, but all made it safely to the base of the large hill.

Janus, now trailing the others, took long, leaping strides as he covered the last part of the slope. The seven continued forward through the darkness, heading amongst the trees. Enough light filtered down from the clear night sky over them that they did not stumble about blindly, and were able to keep moving forward in a relatively orderly manner.

Though fading, the dismaying sounds of fear and wailing, mixed with the crackling and splintering of wood, followed them as they strove for the river’s edge. Above and behind them, a hellish glow now lit the summit of the hill from the fires burning within the doomed village.

From the base of the hill and on through the surrounding trees towards the edge of the river, there were no rocks or other debris falling from the sky. The stillness among the trees was a jarringly stark contrast to the unbridled assault being levied upon the village.

Out of immediate danger, calmer thought processes gradually returned to Janus. The group had slowed their pace to assess their situation, as they finally reached the water’s edge.

A number of terrified villagers were now gathering near to them, increasingly becoming a larger assemblage as other survivors streamed in from the beleaguered village.

Janus’ heart sank precipitously. The sight around him was anguishing. Mothers and fathers carried small, crying children. Those that had reached the water were frantically looking about for any sign of their family members and friends. Those finding the ones that they sought rushed to embrace their loved ones.

Some children looked around in grief and sheer bewilderment, with no sign of the parents that had urged them to run to safety. Older villagers collapsed to the ground, the surge of energy brought by desperation now betraying the frailty of their elderly bodies.

Janus and many of the others looked skyward nervously, searching for signs of the horrific beasts that had terrorized the village. The creatures were not hard to see, as they circled slowly around in the sky far above the hill, honing in again on the village at its summit.

The immense shapes filled the darkened sky, obscuring large expanses of stars behind them. They were monstrosities evoked from the abyss of nightmares, though what they were Janus could not say. Their wingspan was extraordinary, and it was hard to believe that such titans could remain airborne.

As he observed them, Janus’ eyes were gradually drawn towards a most surprising sight, one that was silhouetted against the relatively clear skies.

His eyes straining to make out further details, he could see a flurry of movement occurring along the top of the beasts’ long backs, as well as what looked to be some type of artificial structures astride the creatures. He surmised quickly that those concerted movements were the source of the torrent of destruction descending from the flying monsters.

With a sickening sense of absolute helplessness, he could see the shadowy shapes of numerous rocks plummeting down from the creatures towards the hapless village on the hill. As his eyes took in the deadly storm, his ears were filled with the sobs and cries of the adults and children huddled in small groups all around him.

He was only a guest, with little more in his possession than the clothes on his back. The villagers, on the other hand, were watching their homes, families, and friends being destroyed right before their eyes.

As the initial shock of it began to wear off, the terrible scene transpiring was overwhelming. Against the backdrop of the aggrieved litany, his eyes watered up with tears fueled by sorrow and pure, righteous anger.

He sank down to his knees, as his gaze scanned the debilitating sights of the shattered families gathered near to him. He witnessed expressions of tremendous sadness that he knew would stay ingrained forever in his memory.

He stared off as if to gaze beyond the tragic visions, seeking the numbness of emptiness. Yet he could not escape the sights, for there were far too many.

Janus felt a hollow sensation opening deep within him, as a strongly-built tribal warrior stumbled towards them out of the trees. He was straining with an elderly woman carried across his back and an unconscious child in his arms.

The elderly woman was alert, and had her thin arms and legs wrapped around the warrior as he bore her weight.

Janus then noticed the awkward angle of the child’s lower right leg, bent at a place where no natural joint existed. That the child was not awake was a great mercy. The warrior’s face held both exhaustion and a grim resolve, yet another vivid memory that would remain etched in Janus’ mind.

The renewed shock of the moment gradually wore off, though a feeling of grief subsequently magnified within him. The sight of the elderly woman reminded Janus of the old people in the village who could not have run out as he and his friends had.

He buried his face in his hands, his chest heaving with sobs, as he felt a wave of shame and guilt at having abandoned the village so hastily. He had acted without thinking, rushing out when he should have stayed and tried to help as the warrior had.

“But what could I have done?” he stammered in a low voice, aloud to himself, as an abyss of sadness tore at him. “I should have stayed and helped. I should have stayed…”

He then felt a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. “You saved me.”

Looking up through the haze of his tear-fogged eyes, he saw Logan standing next to him, with a somber expression on his face. The sight of Logan made him think back to the sleeping platform, and where he had seen Logan get off of it at Janus’ frantic urging. He remembered the jagged mass of rock that had smashed the platform to shards moments later, exploding down through the bark-paneled roof. His return back into the longhouse had roused Logan just in time. If Janus had arrived even seconds later, Logan would have been killed.

“You came back in, when you could have run out, and you saved me, you saved the others, and you raised an alarm,” Logan said firmly. “There are many out here that may well have died if you had not run back.”

“But still, I should have stayed,” Janus replied, feeling horribly about the elderly villagers who had likely been trapped by nothing more than the weaknesses of their physical bodies.

“Who could possibly think up there?” Logan asked him, looking off towards the fire-encompassed hilltop. “The whole place was coming down. Smashed to bits, set on fire, people running everywhere. There was nothing that we really could do, but react.”

Logan sighed and shook his head. “I wish I was not so helpless, and could do something more. I wish I could, but we do not have magic abilities, Janus. We’re just human… and until I find a way to something more, I can’t expect to have more power than what we have in these limited bodies…”