Stephen Zimmer - Crown of Vengeance

Ayenwatha nodded, not entirely surprised to hear such candid words from the old sachem. Deganawida had never been one to waste time trying to sweeten a bitter truth. Ayenwatha knew right then that the old sachem would agree with him about what had to be done.

“It must be done… the villages must be abandoned,” Deganawida stated, confirming Ayenwatha’s thoughts, as if he had spoken them aloud. Deganawida then spoke in a lowered, compassionate tone, like that of a father giving the wisdom of a hard lesson learned to a suffering son. “Remember… though it is a very cruel time, and though your heart may become all too heavy in the trial to come… it is the people that are the land, and the land that is in the people. That is the wisdom you must hold fast to within your mind, and in your heart.

… The people are the land. They are the tribes. They are the Five Realms. Do not forget these truths. As long as you know this, you and yours will never be lost, even if we have to keeping moving as we seek new refuges within our own lands.”

The old sachem held Ayenwatha’s gaze, seeming to drive the sentiments deep into his being by the sheer force of his will. Deganawida’s face had softened into an affectionate smile, his eyes echoing the sadness that Ayenwatha was being tormented by.

The sounds of many hurried footsteps preceded the arrival of a couple of young tribal warriors, both of whom had a look of resolve ingrained on their faces.

They held some thin leather thongs, strung with shells, each thong itself tied to a rough, rectangular piece of wood. Coming to a full stop, they looked expectantly towards Deganawida, who eyed the combinations of shell-strung thongs with attached wood sticks with a look that brooked a hint of relief.

“We were able to enter your quarters from the side, great sachem. The entrances to your longhouse have been completely destroyed… but much of your chamber was left intact,” one of the warriors announced. “We found these with little trouble.”

“A small bit of good fortune in this darkness. Two notches on each

… and make haste,” Deganawida then instructed them. “And tell the sachems of each village to move all their people out of their villages and into the forest immediately, without delay. That must be done now. Tell them everything of what has happened here. Spare no detail, no matter how terrible. They must understand what they face, and your account of it may mean all the difference in gaining their cooperation. They must gain the wisdom to empty their villages, before they make their way here two days from now.”

Ayenwatha knew that Deganawida’s words were no understatement. Unlike rulers in Gallea, Deganawida could not command others outright. He could only urge consensus, and employ persuasion to reach it.

The warriors nodded dutifully, before turning and breaking into a run. Their forms were quickly swallowed up in the darkness, leaving the other two alone again.

“Change has been forced upon us, and we cannot go back,” Ayenwatha reflected ruefully.

“Change to the world, perhaps… but not within us, Ayenwatha,” Deganawida corrected him, giving a small smile of encouragement to the vigorous warrior. “It is why we will bend no knee to this Unifier. It is why we will fight.”

“How can we hope to fight? I lost many of my best warriors this very night,” Ayenwatha lamented, concentrating hard not to let his voice choke with the emotion abruptly welling up in him.

His thoughts drifted back to Sky Arrow, and the others that he had seen falling to terrible deaths. As if accenting his feelings, his wounded shoulder continued to throb with a dull pain.

“Our people will find a way. The sons of the World Mother will continue their war, as they have through all time. What may come of their fight is not for us to say, though we know that the Dark Brother has his hand in this time of peril. Remember, the fire dragon helped the World Mother. Perhaps we will find our own fire dragon, in days to come,” Deganawida said.

The words brought Ayenwatha back to the many times he had heard the stories told regarding their treasured heritage when he was just a boy. They had impressed many things upon his young heart, not the least of which was that the path of good, honorable men and women often led through periods of great turmoil.

“Then we must not lose heart. There will be no fire dragon if we do,” he replied after a few moments, seeing the sliver of light that Deganawida was focused upon.

“That is what I am saying to you, Ayenwatha,” Deganawida confirmed gently.

The old man lowered himself down to one knee. For having lived so many years, the old man still exhibited supple movements. Deganawida raised his right hand, which Ayenwatha now noticed was balled into a tight fist. Slowly, he opened his fingers to reveal a dark patch of ash lying within his palm.

“You must keep your strength. Your mind. And your body,” Deganawida said softly, as he blew the ashes in his palm.

The small cloud of ash covered Ayenwatha’s face, and he reflexively flinched and shut his eyes.

It felt as if a blast of hot, searing wind coursed over his skin, as the ashes settled along his body. As he opened his eyes once again, he felt the tiredness seeping swiftly out of him. The throbbing pain in his shoulder rapidly ebbed, until the last dull aches were completely gone.

For a long moment Ayenwatha was silent, in a state of bewilderment at the sudden shifts in his body. Gingerly, and methodically, he moved his left arm, and felt no sign of discomfort from the shoulder area. It was as if he had never been injured. His whole body felt as if he was fully rested, abounding with energy. Ayenwatha drew himself up into a cross-legged, sitting position, and looked up in wonder at Deganawida.

“Did you think that you knew everything about me?” the old sachem said, smiling, in a brief moment of mirth. “When you are younger, you feel as if you have all answers. When older, you realize how few answers you do have. Maybe I still have a few surprises left, even for the likes of you, my bold young friend.”

Ayenwatha smiled warmly back at Deganawida, his spirits buoyed up by the radiant presence of the seemingly tireless old man.

The elder women of the village had selected Deganawida to be the village’s headman many years ago, at an age most uncommon for assuming the highest position of influence in the village.

Ayenwatha had known Deganawida as the village’s leader ever since he was a young boy. It was said that Deganawida had come to the village not long before Ayenwatha was born, having been discovered by a war party. He had been wandering about the woodlands in a disheveled state, without memory of where he had come from, or what had happened to him. The war party had brought Deganawida back to be adopted by the village.

Whatever his origins were, and whatever trauma he had been through, his wisdom was soon demonstrated to be far beyond his years. His kindness and generosity shined forth in the years that followed, and all within the village were bettered by his presence among them.

It was almost a foregone conclusion when he was appointed as the headman of the village. The wise clan matrons, who alone held the authority to remove a headman, had never once called his guidance of their village into question.

Wise in council, and unsurpassed in compassion, Deganawida’s reputation had spread quickly among the villages and tribes. Soon, a great number of village headmen and other sachems found themselves deferring to his sagacity, and he had risen to become the most influential and respected man among the Onan.

When the Onan sachem holding the most prominent seat on the Grand Council had gone from the world to the abode of the One Spirit and the heaven lands, the clan matrons, after having conducted all condolence rites, had appointed Deganawida to the exalted position.