Stephen Zimmer - Crown of Vengeance

His judicious nature and keen insight stood forth at the unified council that took in all five tribes. Known well among the Onan, he soon became beloved by the other tribal sachems. The ascension brought greater honor to Ayenwatha’s tribe. A generous spirit prevailed, as there was no envy or jealousy among the other sachems for the tremendous regard given to Deganawida.

Some even saw a great symbolic meaning in his unexpected discovery and eventual presence among the Onan, leading to his specific placement on the first seat of the Grand Council.

The Onan tribe occupied the central position among the five tribes, and the oral traditions spoke of how the Keepers of the Sacred Fire had been at the heart of the original formation of the Five Realms. To have a remarkably sagacious leader such as Deganawida emerge to assume the place established by the very individual that had brought the Great Law, and formed the first Grand Council, was seen by many as a clear sign of favor by the One Spirit. A strong sense of harmony and common purpose had permeated the five tribes with the guidance of Deganawida and other likeminded sachems.

Ayenwatha’s own ascent to become a war sachem of his village occurred within that shining period, something that never left his expressions of gratitude when honoring the One Spirit. Deganawida’s guidance and tutelage had contributed so very much to the person that Ayenwatha now was, the man that the village had embraced and trusted to be their most respected war sachem.

With Deganawida’s thoughtful guidance, trade had increased with Gallea, Midragard, and others. Even warfare diminished almost to a stop, as hostile tribes were driven back well beyond the northern region of the Five Realms’ forestlands. Other tribes that had formerly held enmity towards the Five Realms were embraced in a new spirit of friendship. Witches immersed in dark arts, and similarly evil shamans, had been uprooted.

The elimination of the poisons and threats to their people had allowed the five tribes to focus on cultivating the bounty of their life and culture. The harvests had gone well, hunting was more bountiful than ever, and fur pelts were taken in abundance. Prosperity had never been better among the woodland peoples, and for once they felt as if they had at least a little control over their destinies. A true golden age had emerged for their people, one that had been bought with much sacrifice, resolve, hard work, and wisdom.

Ayenwatha never would have thought that such a wondrous age could be brought to such a horrific end, in just one night. That very evening, everything had seemed to come crashing down, like the large, deadly stones that had ripped through their buildings and indiscriminately slain their people.

What had taken so long, and been so painstaking, to build, could crumble overnight, a sorrowful but undeniable lesson that Ayenwatha was only now learning.

It was then that he fully understood and appreciated what the elders meant when they spoke of life being so fragile and precious. Now, in the midst of the awful turn of events, Ayenwatha marveled at the great strength of demeanor exhibited in the old man before him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as he absorbed the bit of wisdom to his mind, promising himself to remember it always. He took a deep breath, and looked back up to Deganawida.

“I never said I have claimed to know everything,” Ayenwatha replied, allowing himself a small smile. “I am not surprised that there is more to know.”

“You have always been wise beyond your years,” Deganawida said fondly. “You will need every bit of that wisdom in the coming days. For now, we need to get as much as we can out of the village, and see that we find a good place for our people to establish an encampment.”

Ayenwatha rose up to his feet, feeling limber and strong. “Then I will get started now,” he replied resolutely.

He took a step by Deganawida, affectionately patting the great sachem upon his upper arm.

The darkness of night had already lain across the land for several hours. The scant moonlight beneath the trees was scattered about by the foliage intertwined above the heads of the small group of companions astride their horses.

They had proceeded as swiftly as they could, their minds fixated on the recent revelations confirming the invaders’ imminent presence. Those developments occupied all of their thoughts, as it threatened everything that the Saxans held valuable.

Aethelstan and his few companions, in their haste to warn the woodsman, had nearly stumbled into the Jaghun-warded demesnes before they had announced themselves.

Had they blindly entered the demesnes, they would have risked death. Moving like fleeting shadows, the Jaghuns could be on top of the riders before they even were aware of their presence. In a burst of power, their hurtling forms could easily topple the riders, and bring their tremendous jaws to bear upon flesh and bone.

Aethelstan recognized the features in the terrain that Gunther had been so careful to point out to him just in time. Instinctively, he gripped the horn that hung at his side, but then loosened the grip, as he remembered the admonishment from Gunther earlier.

The admonishment had not been entirely necessary. Aethelstan knew that it would not be wise to use a horn signal. It would attract the attention of any enemy within hearing range, and put them in a state of full alertness. Aethelstan was not about to endanger the woodsman, especially when he had come to warn him.

Yet there was another way to signal, one not so obvious to enemy ears. Aethelstan recollected it quickly enough. He reined Wind Runner to a complete halt, and held up his right hand to his mouth. Hoping that he could still deliver the technique accurately, Aethelstan made a distinctive whistle-call, mimicking a bird cry. The melodious call was from a type of bird that lived in a foreign land, a creature that Aethelstan had never seen or heard himself.

Its distinctive cry could not be mistaken for any of the birds that dwelled within the forests of Saxany. Aethelstan sat back in the saddle and waited in the wake of the call, listening carefully. There was no immediate answer, and only the swishing of wind through leaves interrupted the encompassing silence.

After a moment, Aethelstan repeated the sounds again, feeling a little more confident in his delivery. The call raced forth through the sentinel trees, sharply breaking the stillness once again.

The great thane commanded the Saxan warrior to his right to hold his steed steady and calm, and try not to react to the creatures that Aethelstan knew would be arriving soon. In a low voice he turned to his other side, and repeated the message to the two that were on his left.

His heartbeat picked up, and he hoped that his signal had not erred due to lack of practice. He had little doubt that the strange creatures of Gunther would come, but his men’s survival depended on that heralding cry.

As the silence became brooding, a part of him worried that it had been foolish to even take the risk. Yet he had given his word to Gunther that he would try to warn him, if he could see a way to do so. He could not deny that he had such an opportunity, and he intended to see it through. Keeping one’s honor sometimes meant treading the ground of the foolhardy and reckless.

Aethelstan remained composed as best as he could, knowing full well that the woodsman’s lethal guardians would soon be drawing near. He gently repeated his instructions to his men again, if only to distract himself within the nerve-wracking moments.

The formidable creatures emerged shortly thereafter, their great, shadowy shapes seeming to take form right from the ebon shadows pooling amid the encompassing trees. Four of the intimidating beasts formed a perimeter around the horsemen, their intelligent eyes glinting in the moonlight as they regarded the riders closely.