When daylight finally arrived, it was accompanied by a faint tremor that reverberated steadily through the ground.
A sound like the distant rumbling of thunder, heralding a faraway storm, traveled through the early morning air. After a little time had passed, it became quite evident that both the noise and the potency of the tremors were increasing.
Logan, whose own restlessness had prompted him to take the final watch of the night with Derek, affording Erika a little more rest, had readily noticed the first subtle disturbances. The night had passed without incident, though the relative tranquility had not lulled the senses of either of them into complacency during their appointed watch.
Their presence in an utterly foreign world had helped to keep Logan’s own senses keen to the slightest sound or aberration. Furthermore, as Logan had come to appreciate, Derek already possessed an exceptionally alert, very disciplined disposition.
There was little incentive to any other orientation anyway, as, to Logan’s perspective, there was not much comfort to be had at hand. When he had decided to ask Erika to take over for the final watch shift, his back had felt like it had been transformed into dry wood after struggling in vain to sleep for a few scant hours upon the hard, unforgiving ground. Even after much stretching, there still were some serious kinks in his back that he had not yet been able to work out.
Logan and Derek’s looks of apprehension had increased, as the rumbles grew ever louder and the vibrations became stronger. Logan’s own unease stemmed from the feeling that the seeming thunder did not have the usual quality of a natural storm. He dreaded to think about what kind of unwelcome surprise might be greeting them, to start off this new day in an utterly strange land.
Mershad rose up from the ground nearby, where he had recently adjusted his orientation towards the light of the rising sun. He had just concluded some prayers, his pre-dawn prostration instantly revealing to Logan that Mershad was of the Islamic faith.
Mershad’s widened eyes and nervous demeanor reflected how he was feeling about the vibrations and rumbles. He looked to Logan and Derek, and all three nodded solemnly to each other as an unspoken consensus was reached.
Without sparing a further moment, the three roused all of the others from their slumber. The tremors persisted all the while, continuing in an unrelenting, ascending pulsation.
“What is it?” Kent asked Logan, groaning as he was shaken firmly upon the shoulder.
Logan backed out of Kent’s way, urging, “Get up! Something’s happening!”
Kent looked to be in a very disheveled state as he emerged out from under the makeshift shelter, a nervous frown upon his face as he squinted into the bright morning light. His eyes darted about warily as he became more cognizant of the disturbing sensations. The audible rumbles and shaking in the ground brought an increasingly apprehensive look to Kent’s face.
“I have no idea what it is,” Logan replied to Kent’s unvoiced query.
“That’s not like any storm or earthquake that I have ever been around before,” Kent remarked to Logan and Derek, as the latter approached them.
“No, it isn’t,” Derek replied curtly.
“It doesn’t recede or ebb,” Erika added firmly, as she came over to stand by them, her eyes already quite awake and alert.
Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, methodically looking to all directions. She finally squared her body almost directly towards the west, where the trio of Janus, Kent, and Derek had originally entered the borders of the forest.
“I’m pretty sure that it is coming from out there, straight in that direction,” she declared, pointing off through the trees. “And surprises aren’t always good. Maybe we should look into it for ourselves… before something looks into us.”
Antonio and Janus had emerged into the morning light by then, crawling out from deeper within the crude shelter of branches and foliage. They were swiftly brought up to date by the others, as a frown darkened Janus’ countenance, and anxiety gripped Antonio’s.
One by one, the others all looked about, concentrating upon the strength of the sounds and vibrations. Logan and the others gradually arrived at their own best conclusions, and announced them in turn, collectively finding that Erika was entirely correct in her assessment.
The increasing rumbles hailed to them through the forest from the immediate west.
“Come on then!” Derek pressed the others adamantly. “Erika’s right. We need to find out. I don’t like surprises to begin with, and I like to at least know what I’m facing, especially if some potential trouble is afoot.”
Logan nodded in agreement, before declaring, “I’ll come with you, Derek.”
Mershad and Erika then volunteered in turn, right before Antonio spoke up.
“Shouldn’t a couple of us stay back at the camp?” Antonio inquired, looking nervous. “And I’m not the fastest runner, if you guys need to get back here in a hurry.”
“And neither am I,” Kent then added, with a veneer of clear diffidence.
Logan glanced over at Derek, who was looking more impatient by the second. Logan understood where Kent’s trepidation came from. From talking to Derek, he knew that Kent had already been through quite an ordeal when he had become stranded alone for a brief time in the new world.
“Maybe a few of us should stay here, to keep an eye on our camp,” Logan suggested. He then eyed Janus and Kent. “Maybe you two should say here with Antonio. Leave at least three together.”
“Fine with me,” Kent responded, looking a little relieved at not being compelled to court potential danger right away.
Janus looked a little reluctant to stay behind, a slight frown returning to his face, but finally nodded after a long pause.
“Then we’re decided,” Derek said bluntly. He clapped his hands together sharply, the noise cracking the air loudly in the tense atmosphere. “Come on, let’s get going! Let’s get near to the treeline, and we’ll see what comes next.”
Breaking into a run, Derek took the lead and bolted off for the edge of the forest to the west. Needing no further inspiration, Logan, Erika, and Mershad followed immediately after him, running hard a few steps behind.
Derek outran all three of the others, covering the distance to the forest’s edge rather quickly. He slowed down only when the trees had started to noticeably thin. Finally coming to a complete stop, he then crept forward silently and carefully from a crouched position towards the outermost edge of the trees.
Erika was the next to arrive in the vicinity, followed by Logan, and then Mershad. They each slowed as they neared Derek, stalking up towards him and silently taking a cue from his manifest caution. They each emulated his form as best as they could, Logan and Erika having more success in the endeavor than Mershad, whose efforts at stealthier movement appeared a little awkward.
Derek glanced back occasionally to note their progress, saying nothing, and evidently satisfied at the wary approach that the others were taking. Even so, there was something in Derek’s gaze that caught Logan’s attention, though the man’s face continued to remain impassive as they crept up to his position.
The reason for the strange look within Derek’s eyes became abundantly clear just a few moments later.
Through a break in the trees, Logan beheld the grassy plain beyond. His eyes widened in reflex at the incredible sight that abruptly swamped his eyes. His breath was also snatched away by the unexpected, overwhelming vision erupting boldly before the four shocked observers.
The massive scene spread out upon the plains was simply staggering in scope, difficult to absorb as it bombarded the senses, and almost impossible to believe. Where the open grassland swept out towards the far horizons, there was a gargantuan, moving presence.
Without question, it was the source of the sonorous rumbles, as well as the substantial tremors that continued to course through the ground.
Sprawling out right before their eyes was the passage of a vast army on the march, many thousands in number. Even more astounding, it appeared to be an army from an age that Logan would have thought to be long lost within the mists of time.
It was as if the pages of medieval history had vibrantly come to life within this astounding new world. At his side, Mershad gasped in undeniable awe, as a wave of lightheadedness flowed through Logan. He struggled to make some sense out of what he was seeing, his mind and heart racing. Not a single word was shared among the four observers.
Logan and the others gradually recovered from their momentary trance brought on by the enormous spectacle. Derek was the first to come back to full focus, lowering himself slowly to the ground and beckoning for the others to do likewise.
Once they were all prostrate, they crawled forward on their bellies with Derek until they were close behind the trunks of the trees nearest to the edge of the grassy, windswept expanse. Logan’s form grew rigidly still after he halted, a combination of wonder and fear fixing him firmly in place.
Even if he had the eyes of a hawk, Logan would still have been overwhelmed at the variety of sights, not to mention the sheer size of the column of warriors that meandered far beyond the limits of his vision to the south. He was already resigned to settling in for an extended duration. With the column’s size and rate of march, Logan estimated that it would take a very long time for the entire army to pass by their position. The immensity of the scene wholly enveloped his attention, and he did not so much as cast a glance towards his companions.
Stretching far off to the left, well past the edge of his range of vision, was a continuous stream of warriors. Some mounted, and many others on foot, all were arrayed in an organized, column formation. The fresh daylight glinted in abundance, reflecting off steel all the way down the incredible length of the column.
The bristling expanse of spears in view resembled a new, deadlier version of the rolling grasslands that the army was passing through. Unlike the abundant, swaying grasses all around the column, the tract of upright blades of iron grass was not swayed in the least by the billowing winds.
Leading the extensive column was a vanguard of mounted warriors, iron helms shining brightly underneath a host of fluttering banners and pennons.
The forms of their horses exuded strength, the equines all displaying a sleek, well-cared for appearance as they traveled forward at an easy gait. Many of the horses were garbed in white caparisons, which appeared to have a quilted or padded design to them.
The riders in the vanguard were all clad in what looked to be black woolen habits, fitted with hoods that were currently pulled back. Upon the left breasts of the riders’ habits, on their red banners and pennons, and rendered upon the black facings of the long triangular or almond-shaped shields, slung over their backs via guige straps, was the image of a white, upright spear.
Carrying long lances, the warriors all had swords sheathed in the scabbards at their waists.
Logan watched the vanguard contingent trot by with rapt interest. It was still difficult for him to fully accept that he was really witnessing such a remarkable sight, even as the ground steadily vibrated beneath his body.
The black-garbed mounted force was followed soon after by a great number of marching foot soldiers. The masses of infantry provided a living screen of protection for the extensive baggage train in their midst.
Four-wheeled wagons and two-wheeled carts rumbled forward slowly, some pulled by horses and others by teams of plodding oxen. Wagon drivers used shouts and long switches to spur the brawny creatures forward. Packhorses laden down with all manner of hide pouches, water skins, and other materials trundled along among the wheeled elements of the baggage train.
Many of the marching figures in the looser throng surrounding the carts and wagons carried spears, while others held crossbows or bows. Several were bearing a very unique type of long-hafted axe, guisarmes with lengthy, curved blades.
Two distinct lines of marching figures strode in disciplined order along the forest-side of the baggage train. The men of the inner line were all bearing crossbows, the belt hooks used for loading them jangling downward from their waists.
Just outside of them in an even line was a file of spearmen with tall, rectangular shields. Mail-coated, with iron half-helms, they formed a living screen for the crossbowmen to their left.
The orderly lines of spearmen and crossbowmen warily eyed the forest’s edge, compelling Logan to not move a muscle lest the cascade of eyes sweeping along the edge of the trees take notice of him.
Out from the flank closest to the outskirts of the forest were intermittent formations of mounted warriors. Logan could not help but think that many of the riders in these periodic bands were knights.
The particular riders catching Logan’s eyes exhibited an unrivaled splendor that was set well apart from all others in the column, whether on foot, or with them on horse. Logan found his eyes roving from one impressive form to another, each one a grand sight in and of themselves.
Several individuals displayed matching colors between their sleeveless, knee-length surcoats, triangular shield facings, and the draping bards adorning their war stallions. Luxuriant blues, vibrant reds, bright yellows, deep greens, and other lush hues formed the bases of their rich trappings.
Some of these warriors had additional designs displayed on their outer surcoats, shields, and bards. Stylized lions clawed viciously at unseen adversaries, while great birds of prey spread their beaks apart, loosing piercing battle cries. Dragons opened their mighty jaws wide, as if about to loose torrents of scorching flame. Wolves bared their knife-like fangs menacingly, caught in mid-bound as they raced across some invisible terrain.
On other shields, surcoats, and caparisons, the displays were simpler. Straight bars, chevrons, and other geometric elements were set in various arrangements against the solid hues of their backgrounds.
The stately riders, like those of less prominent appearance accompanying them, had their heads turned towards the forest. The expressions of many knights were hidden behind the iron visors of cylindrical half-helms, or encompassed within full great helms, flat-topped and barrel-round.
After watching the procession of warriors for quite some time, Logan’s eyes were drawn towards an exceptionally sizeable banner pulled forth by a large team of burly oxen. The great banner undulated in the robust breezes from the top of a high mast, exhibiting a prominent sigil upon its surface.
It was of a golden fleur-de-lis. Set against a deep blue background, the proud image of the fleur-de-lis was striking to behold.
The stout wagon trundled onward, carrying the banner along with it to the north, and the river of warriors continued to flow by for what seemed to be an interminable length of time to Logan. Without needing to count, he knew with surety that several thousand men had already passed by their position. He longed to stretch his tightening limbs, doing his utmost to block out of his mind any physical discomforts that arose in the extended duration.
Lying on his belly in a prone position was fortuitous in that he was not in a more contorted pose that might have quickly become unbearable to maintain. He was even able to prop his head up on the back of his arms, though he did so very slowly and cautiously.
He had no other choice available other than to wait with his equally silent companions, continuing their prolonged vigil at the edge of the forest. Even modest movements were very likely to be seen by the more diligent elements of the marching force. It was nerve-wracking enough worrying about discovery, even being as rigidly still as he was.
Just as Logan grew acclimated to the sight of the marching formation and his nerves had settled a little more, another unexpected, and breathtaking, element manifested. The hairs immediately stood out on the nape of his neck as the first of many utterly strange, fearsome-looking creatures started appearing shortly beyond the mid-way juncture of the huge force’s passage.
Even farther out towards the forest from the core of the dense marching column, pacing lithely along the ground, were what looked to be a type of massive, dark-furred cat. The great beasts were noticeably larger than an adult male lion, which was the closest animal that Logan could relate the burly felines to. There were several of the stunning beasts in the first wave to come into view, stepping with feline grace and brimming with powerful muscularity.
The powerful cats’ broad heads turned from side to side, their ears twitching separately and reactively, in sharp alertness to every sound. An extensive, wicked-looking set of frontal canines was visible, fully exposed and descending to sharp points just below their great jaws. The veritable daggers gave the creatures an appearance acutely reminiscent of the prehistoric sabretooths whose images Logan had often pored over with fascination as a child.
Proud of posture, the impressive creatures were restrained by long, thick leather cords, attached to iron-studded collars fitted around their ample necks. The leashes were held at the opposite ends in the firm grips of handlers of a very unusual appearance, who jogged effortlessly behind the steady gait of the cats.
The handlers were as fascinating as the great sabretoothed cats, and Logan stared at them in wonder and disbelief. They were of the same race as the small contingent of warriors that came up close behind the first group of great cats. There were around a hundred of the peculiar, bi-pedal creatures in all, including both the handlers and the armed company.
Their appearance was like that of a large rodent that could walk upright, like a human. Their height was many inches shorter than that of average human adults, the taller ones among them being only about five feet tall. A coat of coarse, dark fur fully covered bodies that were lean and sinewy, with long, narrow limbs.
The extraordinary creatures walked with a discernable spring to their every step, evidencing a natural supremacy of agility in relation to their nearby human companions.
The rodent-like creatures, or rat-men, were clad in what looked to be close-fitting, dark tunics that ended just below their midsections, tied above their hips with narrow hide belts. Their clothing was otherwise scanty, as they wore no type of footwear or other significant pieces of attire. A few hints of smaller adornments, largely in the form of snug-fitting neck rings, could be seen amongst them.
Most of the rat-men carried thin javelins, which they rested in small clusters upon their shoulders as they trotted forward. Others had short quivers affixed to their belts, with strung bows scaled to their more diminutive size that were carried over their shoulders. Simple leather sheaths affixed to their belts held what looked to be lengthy daggers, or perhaps short swords.
Their high-pitched, chittering voices carried faintly across the air to Logan and the others, as the larger company of rat-men passed by their hiding spot, following in the wake of their cat-handling brethren.
While the huge cats and the rat-beings were shocking enough in appearance, it was the presence of a third variety of inhuman creature whose emergence brought Logan’s breath to a momentary standstill. He almost had to remind himself to allow air into his lungs, as awed as he was by the newest sight in the column.
Logan could barely believe his own senses, as a group of monstrosities lumbered up into plain sight from the far end of the column. Though few in number, the gigantic brutes would easily have sufficed to serve as a rear guard all by themselves.
Like the rat-men, they were also marching a little farther out to the side of the humans. The enormous creatures trod by the men rapidly, taking huge strides up the flank of the main column. Horses whinnied and snorted in agitation, and many of the men cast fearful glances in the direction of the daunting entities.
The collective presence of the striding juggernauts was awesome to behold, and Logan could not imagine anything that could offer a challenge to such mighty beings. Towering over the tallest of the men, including those mounted upon great steeds, the behemoth creatures moved on powerfully muscled, thick legs that looked to be as stout as tree trunks.
Easily over nine hundred pounds on average, the massive creatures had a dark, greenish outer hide. They were clad in little more than crudely fashioned, short-sleeved hide tunics that extended down to the tops of their bulky knees. The earthen-hued tunics were slit at the sides up to the waist, having a protective quality in that the hide they were fashioned from was thick, and of a toughened constitution.
Resting upon bullish necks, their great heads featured elongated snouts, which exhibited thick, short tusks that sprouted prominently up from their lower jaws. Deep-set eyes peered out from underneath pronounced brow ridges. A dense, bristly mane of hair started high on their heads and ran down the back of their necks, giving the creatures a natural crest.
Brawny, bulging arms gripped oversized, single-bladed war axes, or great iron maces with flanged heads, not one of which could have been wielded by the strongest of humans within the entire column. The thick hafts of the mighty weapons rested upon the beasts’ broad shoulders as they carried them along.
Logan began to notice that all of the creatures had what looked like great scars running along their upper right arms. He would have attributed the blemishes to the beasts’ coarse appearances, if it were not for the fact that many of the creatures had scars bearing an uncannily close resemblance to those of others within their group. To him, there was little chance that the groups of scars sharing very similar shapes were mere coincidences.
The largest among the massive beasts strode at the forefront of the awe-inspiring group. It wore a longer-sleeved hide tunic of a decidedly better craftsmanship, further differentiating the beast from its other hulking brethren.
The exceptional creature glanced back occasionally at the others, glowering, growling angrily, or erupting with a few harsh, unintelligible words.
By their reactions and postures, it was very clear to Logan that the other brutish creatures readily deferred to the greater one’s authority. There was absolutely no sign of challenge or resistance to their obvious leader.
Logan had previously noticed that there had been a considerable amount of conversation occurring among the human infantry with the baggage train. Aside from the ordered, more attentive lines of spearmen and crossbowmen to their right, many of the marching men had relaxed expressions and casual postures as they interacted with each other. It was now apparent that most of the humans were greatly discomfited by the close proximity of the huge, bestial warriors.
The humans grew pensively silent, a hush falling over them as they nervously watched the contingent of gigantic creatures, around a dozen in number, tromp heavily by them. Even the throngs of mounted warriors, including the proud-looking ones of a knightly character, seemed to shy away from the beasts by angling their mounts closer to the main column, or spurring themselves farther ahead.
Only when the giant brutes had gone well past them did the humans in the main column begin to resume their interactions again; and even that seemed to be done with great hesitancy.
Packhorses, a great number of lightly clad riders, more throngs of infantry, and a couple more of the mounted contingents with knightly elements followed the baggage train, before the far end of the column came into sight at last.
Logan set his eyes upon the final contingent, feeling a wave of relief pass over him at the recognition of the column’s end. He was aching to move his limbs and taut muscles, though he was firmly resolved to remain still until the last of the force had traveled well past his group.
Trotting in formation, and bringing up the rear, the mounted warriors echoed the vanguard in that they had a very cohesive appearance, with a paucity of variation in their attire and equipment.
Most of the riders were garbed in white surcoats, and the rest in black ones, all of which bore the image of a red, upright spear affixed just over the left breast. They carried lances and swords, similar to those in the leading formation. Their limbs were fully covered in mail, with many having added protection on the thighs and knees.
Also like those in the forefront of the column, the warriors of the rearguard displayed a distinctive design upon their numerous pennons, banners, and facings of their wide, triangular shields. Roughly the upper quarter of the banners, pennons, and shields was solid black, with the rest of the ensigns being white.
A slight variant on this arrangement was in evidence, in which the colors were reversed in their position, and equal in proportion to each other. These latter versions contained an additional element, a black spear that was placed atop the white background of the upper half.
The black and white arrangement on the shields, pennons, and banners was combined with the red on white scheme on the rider’s white surcoats in the trappers covering their elegant mounts. The red spear image graced the neck and hindquarters on a white portion of the trapper that encompassed the horses’ heads, necks, and the upper half of their bodies. The lower half of the equine garb was solid black.
The faces that Logan could see among the men of the final group were uniformly bearded, and of steely countenance, as they rode tall in their saddles, scanning the forest’s edge continuously with their eyes.
The rearguard contingent was not overly numerous, soon proceeding by Logan and the others as they left the plains open once again and followed the rest of the great force heading due north. It was still quite some time before there was any hint of movement or discussion among the four observers.
Logan stared off towards the end of the column as it headed away, gradually growing smaller in the distance. The ground still reverberated underneath, but he could tell that vibrations were beginning to ebb in strength.
He was still incredulous at what he had just witnessed over the past few hours. It was as if something of an astonishing nature had been summoned right from the depths of a long-forgotten history, to live and breathe in the world once again. Yet the history that Logan was familiar with did not contain everything that had been present within that huge, marching army.
“I think that we should head back… right now,” Logan suggested at long last, speaking in little more than a whisper as the rearguard of the column shrank to the cusp of vanishing from sight, far off to the right.
Logan glanced at his companions, and quickly saw that he had voiced the inner sentiments of the other three with him. He received nods from them in response, with no arguments.
Peering from the ground level, where he was positioned behind the thick, arching roots of one of the trees, Derek held up a hand for the others to wait. He looked away and remained fixated upon the end of the column until it was no longer in sight. All the while, Logan noticed that Derek’s jaws were clenched in rigid tension, reflecting an intense level of concentration.
The sight of Derek’s great pensiveness helped to mitigate Logan’s impatience to fully stretch out his muscles and return back to the campsite. He did not doubt that Derek had a good purpose for his continued delay, trusting to the other’s judgment as he was from a military background.
Derek’s head then slowly swiveled in the direction where the army had come from, staring off resolutely towards the south for several minutes. To Logan, the passing of those few minutes seemed like hours, but he did not disturb Derek’s scrutiny.
“Keep it very slow, and keep it low,” Derek finally told the others in a subdued, yet adamant tone, his words unmistakably akin to an order. “Back up on the ground, and maintain your low profile. Use your whole body, from your knees to your arms. No matter what, no quick movements. We’re taking no chances.”
Logan did not blame Derek for the extreme caution, his mind still swimming with images of the massive column and its extraordinary non-human elements. Though the column was now well into the distance, the sounds of its passage and the vibrations had not faded entirely. The lingering sensations were good reminders to not let down his guard.
Derek kept up his wary vigil while the others began to move backwards. Crawling upon his belly, Logan wiggled methodically farther and farther back away from outer edges of the forest.
“No quick movements,” Derek repeated again as the others carefully progressed. “And don’t rise up until I tell you to.”
Derek finally began to move back from the last of the trees, after the others had covered a modest distance. He moved a little more quickly, elbows and knees working in efficient concert, and soon caught up to Logan.
“Keep it low, and keep going,” Derek reiterated as he slowed down to keep pace with the other three.
Logan glanced over at Derek, and saw that he was staring hard at each of them to convey the gravity of his meaning. He gave a curt nod of acknowledgement to Derek in response.
Mershad and Erika were also faithfully doing as Derek wished, working slowly and meticulously towards the relative concealment of the deeper forest shadows. The wooded depths offered the promise of shielding the quartet from the eyes of anything out on the plains, and Logan could not avail himself of that reassuring shroud of tree and brush a moment too soon.
Logan’s heart continued to beat fast as they crept backwards, his renewing fears causing him to half-imagine that shrill cries of discovery would erupt at any given moment. He blanched thinking about one of the green-hided brutes storming down upon him, swinging one of those great iron maces down upon his vulnerable flesh and bones. One thunderous blow from such a huge weapon, wielded with the kind of force that the lumbering hulks were undoubtedly capable of, would reduce him to pulp in an instant.
The group did not cease in their crawling until they were well out of sight of the grassy plains. Logan’s elbows were scraped up from the extended, rough contact with the debris-strewn ground. Some small insects had also managed to climb up onto him, which he brushed off vigorously as he felt the tingle of their steps upon his bare arms.
Derek finally signaled to the others that they could safely rise from the ground level. Quietly, they all got up to their feet, took a moment to stretch, and readied to continue back towards their makeshift camp.
It felt good just to stand again, though Logan had to contend with a slight wave of disorientation after having endured such an extended period of rigid concentration in a prone position.
While regaining his equilibrium, Logan was momentarily startled by the sudden flutter of a couple of large ravens. His heart leapt in his chest as the two birds lifted off of a tree branch that he and his companions were crossing under. Seeing the dark birds flying off swiftly into the forest, Logan closed his eyes and breathed out a long sigh of relief. His rattled nerves began to settle back as prepared to resume his forward step, simply glad to see the feathered denizens rather than massive forms bristling with muscles, claws, and sabre-long teeth.
“We can risk a faster pace,” Derek then told them, also having twirled about in quick reflex at the abrupt commotion caused by the two sizeable ravens. Logan could see hints of relief reflected in the stoic man’s face.
After taking a couple of moments to regroup and regain their composure, the four picked up their pace behind Derek until they were back in a full run. Logan’s shoes pounded on the forest floor, as he focused his eyes upon Derek’s back at their lead. Ericka was just a few strides behind Derek, with Mershad a short distance in back of Logan. The four covered the remaining ground swiftly.
When they reached their camp, they skittered to a halt. Mershad almost tripped over his feet in the process and slammed into Logan’s back. Logan caught and steadied the young man, who was breathing heavily, before turning quickly to the sight that had stunned all of them.
Janus’, Antonio’s, and Kent’s heads snapped about towards the other four with looks of surprise, clearly startled as the four bounded into the camp area. They were gathered around a tall, white-haired old man, clad in a wide-brimmed hat and long, flowing blue robes. The loose-fitting clothing on the old man did not hide the considerable broadness of the stranger’s shoulders, made more apparent by his very erect posture and confident disposition. Interestingly, the old man had remained entirely calm when the others had burst into the camp, showing no reaction whatsoever to their sudden emergence.
Logan’s first reaction was to look all around the area rapidly, though he quickly discovered that the old man was the only individual outside of his own group within sight. The unexpected encounter disrupted Logan’s lingering tensions for only a moment, as the air and ground still carried hints of the army passing towards the north.
Adding to the abrupt mystery, Logan noticed that Derek had a look of recognition upon his face as he looked towards the old man. Showing no signs of alarm at the presence of the stranger, Derek strode over towards Janus and came to stand by his friend’s side. Erika and Mershad stood quietly at Logan’s side, watching the others with caution.
Logan watched the unfolding scene with growing interest and puzzlement, as the words of the old man cut through the air.
“Forces in thrall to the Unifier pass near to you, though others would say that those are Gallean forces. In truth, they are all of the Unifier, in this darkening age,” the old man stated, his words carrying a distinct tinge of distaste. “You must not tarry in this place much longer, lest you fall into their hands. Go to the east. Others of a different mind will be found there. Ones who can be of help.”
The old man then turned to face the newcomers who yet kept their distance, stepping slowly towards Erika, Mershad, and Logan. He moved with an easy, effortless step, showing no sign of infirmity or frailty despite his seemingly ancient years.
Logan found himself staring right into the old man’s lone blue eye, for the other was fully covered by a patch. Logan could not read the expression of the stranger, as the old man’s mouth was nestled within an abundance of white that descended to his upper chest.
The transfixing gaze appeared to be generating a jeweled sparkle within its cerulean depths, a timeless evocation that belied the apparent age of the stranger’s physical appearance. It was a look brimming with vitality, alertness, and wisdom, and the stranger’s seemingly advanced years were as nothing in context of the ageless look reflected in that single, mesmerizing eye.
Logan tried to concentrate upon the old man, but found that it was increasingly difficult to gather his thoughts, as if his mental focus was slipping, and swiftly becoming hazy. For no explicable reason, the new development did not frighten Logan in the least. If anything, he felt an absence of danger in the immediate presence of the old man, and even his badly shaken nerves were bolstered by the inexplicable placidity that washed over him.
“And you three, with your friend over there, have all seen the strength of the Unifier’s forces for yourselves. Your own eyes do not lie. You saw what you saw, a river of power that is nothing compared to the vast seas of power beyond it,” the old man stated firmly, his voice deep and resonant.
“The Unifier?” Derek responded from next to Janus, “Who is the Unifier? And where is that army going?”
“Some would say those forces herald the genesis of a new order, brought forth out of the lands of Avanor, a land far to the west from where you now stand. The truly wise would see something from a much older order, one more ancient than the world itself,” the blue-robed man explained somberly. “The Unifier… A leader cloaked in fair countenance, attractive and charming to all who behold Him, but wielding a terrible, dominating force that comes from the very depths of the Abyssal Realms themselves.”
The old man paused, and his countenance darkened, as if contemplating a particularly troubling thought. When he continued again, his voice was lower, and his tone deeply solemn.
“And the true wisdom is this; the Unifier is just a steward. He is a steward of another far more powerful Entity… though very few in this world, in lands under His influence, would be willing to say so openly. And still others are foolish enough to embrace Him knowingly, even aware that He is a steward, and conscious of the One that He is a steward for. Such are the ones who are most steeped in madness within this troubled world.”
“And the army we just saw?” Derek prodded insistently. “Where are they headed to?”
“The lands that you are in, right now,” the old man replied without hesitation.
“Then we should get the hell out of here, it would seem to me,” Derek stated tersely. He glanced to the three that had remained behind in the camp, Janus, Kent, and Antonio, his next words directed squarely at them. “We just saw an entire army march by at the edge of the woods. You probably wouldn’t believe me, but it was like something right out of a medieval time. Spears, armor, horses, swords… even knights… all that, and more. Things you probably won’t believe at first. It was an enormous army, thousands and thousands strong, and it was the source of all the noise and shaking that we all experienced.”
“Things I wouldn’t believe?” Janus asked him. “What do you mean?”
Derek hesitated, and when he answered Janus, his voice took on a tension that Logan had not heard within it before.
“There were… creatures…” Derek said, his brow furrowing, as if it was difficult for him to make the declaration. “Of kinds that I have no idea what they were. I still can’t believe what I just saw, but I saw it, and so did Erika, Mershad, and Logan. We can’t deny it. And I do know that we don’t want to run into any of these creatures. Not in the least.”
The old man held his hand up, drawing everyone’s immediate attention.
“Before you worry yourself too much, that army will not come in here just yet,” he stated. “They are still assembling, gathering, and preparing for what will come. The Unifier’s hunger turns to the last lands that will not bend their knees to Him in submission, but know that those forces that you saw will not move on these woodlands just yet. You still have some time, and you will need what I have come here to give you.”
The old man had a large pouch affixed to the belt at his waist, from which he withdrew a number of small amulets hanging from thin, hide necklaces. Logan noticed that a radiant golden ring, inlaid with a spectacular blue gemstone, rested upon one of the old man’s long fingers.
The elongated, thin leather strips of hide procured from the leather pouch were each threaded through a metallic amulet. The amulet looked to be crafted of iron, inlaid with a small blue gemstone that was of the same kind as that on the old man’s ring.
The stone on the old man’s finger was large and round, while each of the stones in the amulets was cut into a very unique shape. The stones were nearly in the form of the letter “F,” with a distinctive difference. The two horizontal lines extending to the right of the vertical line were parallel, but slanted downward in a diagonal fashion.
The metal that the blue stones were set into framed them exquisitely, closely following the outer contours of the shaped stones. The complete pendants, including both stone and setting, were not overly large. Each could fit comfortably into the palm of a person’s hand.
“Take these, and wear them, at all times. They will help to get you through this time and place,” the old man announced, extending the first one towards Mershad.
Mershad accepted it a little gingerly, holding it out in front of him as he peered intently at the strange amulet. The old man moved onward, bestowing one necklace upon each member of the remaining group, until seven of the amulets had been distributed in all.
When he was finished passing out the necklaces, he advised them, “Walk this land with caution, and always be wary, for these are the most perilous of times for the world of Ave.”
The name of the new world sounded so graceful and elegant to Logan’s ears, pronounced ‘ah-vay’ by the elderly man. He wondered whether it carried the same meaning as a Latin word from his own world.
The words of caution from the old man were not necessary. Logan was not about to let his guard down, though he regarded it as unbelievably bad fortune if he and the others had truly stepped into another world that was wreathed in its most perilous age.
“Who are… you? And why… would you bother to help us?” Erika interjected, with a little strain in her voice, as if the question took a very conscious effort to utter. Logan could read confusion and mild exasperation on her face, as if she was struggling with herself.
She had asked what was probably the most obvious of questions, the one that should have been on the tips of all seven of their tongues. Yet not one of them had asked it, and Erika had only done so with evident difficulty.
Even as she voiced the question, Logan took notice that his nerves were indeed dulled. He knew that he should be feeling much more guarded and scrupulous in the face of an enigmatic stranger, especially one passing out distinctively shaped amulets fitted with blue gemstones. Yet it was as if he could not gain a tight enough grip upon his own thoughts to be concerned with what was transpiring. The mere sight of the old man seemed to be instantly soothing and reassuring, and there was no feeling of alarm anywhere within Logan.
The old man smiled gently at Erika, with the kindly warmth of a caring grandfather.
“It is good to be overly cautious in this age,” he responded in an amiable tone. “I am a friend, one who has been waiting for those such as you for a very, very long time. I only wish to be of help to you, the truth of which you all will know in a time to come.
“As I said to Janus yesterday, it is best that you limit your questions now, as any answers will only open up far more questions than you are ready to grapple with. Such is the true nature of knowledge, and what the seven of you are now being faced with could overwhelm you, if you are not careful. Heed my advice; take this journey a small step at a time.”
The others exchanged mystified glances with each other at the strange answer. Logan looked towards Janus, and then back to Derek, as full realization struck him. He understood then that this old man was the unusual figure that they had mentioned encountering soon after their arrival out of the mists.
Kent, who Logan also knew had seen the old man before, then asked the stranger, “I don’t understand any of this. And it sounds like you aren’t going to help us clear things up quickly… but don’t you at least have a name we can call you?”
The old man smiled again, and for a moment there was an amused glitter within his eye.
“Not all things at once, my young friend,” the stranger replied evenly. “I am simply a Wanderer through this wide world. One that has long sought wisdom, and has paid a great price for gaining it.”
The old man looked slowly around to each of the seven gathered around him. The others all remained silent and mindful, and even Kent did not offer objection to the unsatisfying answer to his question. The stranger seemed to be able to hold onto their undivided attention with merely a glance.
He uttered no other words, as his scrutiny finally ended with Logan. The encompassing gaze notably remained with Logan for a few seconds longer than it had with the others. Logan could not fathom why that was so, though the extended attention seemed very peculiar to him.
“You will be given guidance soon enough,” he told all of them, as he swept his gaze across all of their faces.
As if some kind of hold had been lifted, Logan felt the clarity of his thoughts begin to sharpen. With a sparkle in his eye, the old man turned away from them and started off into the woods with his long robes flowing about him.
His parting words carried back to them.
“Wear my gifts about your necks. They will bring you understanding. You will need them, if you wish to gain answers faster.”
Snapping fully out of the trance-like state, Logan regained mastery over the rest of his senses. He watched with amazement until the old man was out of sight, bewildered by the whole encounter.
“Hey, I wonder how much this would go for. Have to get a jewelry shop to price this one out when we get back,” Kent quipped.
His jesting words broke the awkward silence weighing heavy in the air, as Kent casually looped his pendant around his neck. Grinning wide, Kent added, “So, do I look like a good model for this? Gotta be worth a little money… I’m sure of it.”
“But it won’t be worth much if we get caught around here,” Logan stated.
A darker expression rose upon his face as he looked off in the direction where the old man had headed in. His mind filled again with vivid images of the enormous army, most especially the massive saber-toothed cats, the rat-men, and the burly monstrosities with their huge, wicked-looking axes.
“Are we all losing our minds? Why trust him?” Logan questioned the others. “Why trust anyone? What do we really know? But I think we do need to get a move on things here.”
Derek’s expression was very austere, as he looked over to Janus and Kent. “That was definitely the old man we saw yesterday… did he say anything else to you when we were gone?”
Janus nodded. “No doubt, it was the same man. He had appeared to us right before the four of you returned. I have no idea why he has such an interest in us, but he appears to be trying to help. He doesn’t seem to be dangerous, and if he was, wouldn’t he have done something yesterday, or just now?”
Derek shrugged, “Don’t ask me. Nothing makes sense anymore.”
“We should get going,” Logan interjected. “Medieval army or strange old man, I’m not about to trust anything or anyone. Derek’s right. Nothing makes sense.”
“I sure can’t make much sense out of what that man said. I wish I had asked him some more questions. It was like my mind grew sluggish, and I couldn’t think of much to say,” Erika said, accurately describing the sensation that Logan had felt throughout the encounter. “It was all I could do to just to ask him who he was. Like I had to force the words out of my mouth.”
She fingered her necklace for a moment, gazing down at the deep blue gemstone. Her glance prompted Logan to turn his attention to his own.
It appeared to be safe enough, a simple pendant of metal and gemstone. With a shrug, Logan finally slipped it on around his own neck. Looking back up, Logan was about to make another comment, when he saw the forest come alive all around them.
Seemingly out of nowhere, to their sides, to the front, and to the back of them, a large number of lithely moving figures emerged right from the trees and shadows themselves. All of them were armed, bearing various types of weapons, and their attentions were resolutely fixed upon Logan and his companions.
In appearance and attire, they were nothing like the ones that Logan had recently witnessed, comprising the huge column marching out on the plains. If anything, they immediately reminded him of the native peoples of his own country.
The weapons were poised for use, bringing a clenching feeling to Logan’s gut as the air swarmed with tension.
A good number of the warriors surrounding them held curving, wooden clubs of war. The gracefully cut, slender arching shafts ended in dense, rounded balls of solid wood. Some of the shafts were carved to resemble serpents or other animals, whose open jaws cradled the orbs of wood at their ends. On others, the facing of the spherical ends had been carved into the visage of a human face.
A few of the warriors had feather-fletched arrows notched on bows, which were partially drawn back and trained directly upon their targets; Logan and his six companions. Logan took uneasy account of more than one sharp iron arrowhead pointed coldly and impassively at his own body. The feeling was deeply unsettling, like nothing that he had ever experienced before.
Still other warriors bore axes with hafts of modest length, weapons clearly designed to be wielded with one arm. The hafts were fitted at their ends with small, single-edged blades of iron that had a slender horizontal profile. The axe blades gleamed dangerously as they reflected the sunlight breaking through the leaves of the trees above them.
Short bone-handled knives were suspended down the center of many of the figures’ chests, encased within sheaths graced with intricate quill-work and fringes of metal-banded tassels lining the openings.
The warriors themselves were very simply garbed. Though some wore longer hide tunics on their upper bodies, most were bare of chest. The latter were clad with some type of buckskin waist-skirt, not unlike a kilt, or a hide or woolen breechcloth that ran through their legs, looping up and over a waist belt. All wore hide leggings to the mid-thigh, and had moccasins covering their feet.
Their faces and exposed skin were covered in painted strips of red and black. Slightly obscured by the striping were a plethora of tattooed designs, some of recognizable animal or nature designs, and others geometric patterns.
The warriors did exhibit a considerable amount of ornamentation, as bands of quill-decorated hide, feathers, or small shell beads, wrapped around their upper arms or at the knees, were quite prevalent amongst them. Earrings and nose rings were in regular evidence, some of the former being substantial, looping designs made of shell. A few had their ears adorned with puffy, globular adornments of swan down.
There was a complete lack of facial hair on the men, and even their heads were largely shorn of hair. Most wore styles with thick tufts sprouting atop their heads, the centered tufts decorated with feathers or other smaller items.
Their facial features, on the average, were very angular in nature, with high-set cheekbones and prominent noses, lending many of them an almost hawk-like profile. Their dark eyes were piercing and humorless. Almost all had leaner, sinewy bodies, infused with a well-defined muscularity.
Logan and the others instinctively grouped together in a circle, facing outward with their backs to each other. He could not see any other clear options, as they were completely surrounded by the stern-looking warriors. It was certainly not in their interest to profess to fight.
“Stay where you are!” one of the nearest of the warriors commanded them in a hard, resolute tone.
Despite the black and red paint, and several tattoos, the warrior had a very handsome visage. He possessed a balanced symmetry to his wide, expressive eyes, full lips, and slightly broader nose, which complimented an ovular face. He was among the taller of the surrounding warriors, with a sculpted body that brought out his well-defined chest and bulging shoulder muscles.
He was every inch the image of strength and vitality, and definitely did not look like the kind of man that one would want to cross. Logan looked slowly to the others with him, seeing looks of utter confusion on the faces of some, and comprehension on the faces of others.
“Who are you? Why are you in these lands?” the figure then inquired, with manifest caution underlying his insistent manner.
“My name is Erika,” Erika then responded, “and we really don’t know where we are, why we are here, or even what is happening.”
Logan glanced towards his companions again.
The perplexity had seemed to increase on the faces of those who had looked the most confused when the warrior had initially spoken. They were eyeing Erika sharply, and Logan could see the questioning look in their gazes.
It was then that he took note that the ones wearing the pendants, like himself and Erika, looked to be the most comfortable. A distinct thought came to him, but he was not yet ready to try and test it. A throng of fierce-looking warriors of unknown intent, bristling with weapons, prompted him to severe caution. He did not want to make one comment or gesture that would be misconstrued to an unfavorable result. Nobody had to tell them that their lives were hanging in the balance.
“I’m Kent,” Kent replied nervously, after Erika had spoken, his eyes wide with anxiety. He suddenly stammered out, “We don’t know where we are, and if we trespassed, we did not mean it. She’s right, we don’t know what’s happening here.”
The others remained quiet, staying rigidly in place. The ones without the pendants on continued to look dumbfounded, and appeared to be growing increasingly worried.
Only Derek did not look to be overly ruffled by the unexpected developments unfolding all around them, his eyes constantly roving among the warriors. From what Logan had come to know of Derek, he surmised that his disciplined companion was carefully assessing the warriors’ intentions. He wished that he could ask Derek what his initial impressions of them were.
Logan pondered some of the thoughts tugging more strongly upon his mind. He had found it very intriguing that the old stranger in the blue garments, clearly a native to this strange world, had spoken the language of Logan’s group without any difficulty. It was even more curious that these woodland warriors spoke Logan’s own tongue so fluently.
Logan was not about to believe that everyone within an entirely new world spoke his language. Something very strange was occurring.
He glanced down at the blue stone pendant, as comprehension advanced in his mind. Though he knew he was taking a risk, he felt that he had to alert his companions that had not yet donned the amulets. The exchange with the surrounding warriors was tenuous at best, and Logan wanted everyone to be able to answer if questioned.
“It’s something with the pendants,” he whispered to Janus, Derek, and Antonio. “Trust me.”
The others looked towards him with puzzlement. Even Derek’s brow furrowed at Logan’s words.
The warrior addressing them abruptly looked to Logan with a sharp gaze, before glancing back quickly to Erika. Logan froze in place, hoping that his whisper had not provoked the warrior.
The warrior then looked past all of them, towards a couple of warriors that had just emerged from the woods. The two were now standing directly opposite him, on the other side of the trapped group.
“They do not wield the dark magic,” one of the pair of emerging warriors proclaimed, holding out what appeared to be a large quartz crystal for all to see in his right hand. He stared intently at its glittering surface, before looking back up again. He nodded and continued in a confident tone. “I am sure of it. The woman is not a witch, and the men are not shamans. They do not use the dark magic.”
The first warrior that had addressed them, the one that clearly appeared to be the band’s leader, looked back to Logan’s group. His steely look echoed the unyielding tension in the air as he silently regarded them.
“Who are you? What are you doing in these woods?” he demanded. “Each of you, speak your answer.”
“I am Erika, and I do not know how I came to be here,” Erika answered, the first of the seven to venture a response.
“My name is Kent… McNeeley. And it is no different with me,” Kent stated nervously. “I have no idea where we are right now, or how we got here. I swear. That’s the truth.”
Logan and Mershad answered similarly, but when it came to the last three in their group, there was an uncomfortable pause. Janus, Antonio, and Derek looked both confused and incredulous.
A look of frustration quickly grew upon the leader’s face during the uneasy delay. He turned his attention back towards Erika, even as Logan whispered to the remaining three.
“Just tell them your name, and why we are here,” he urged.
The leader of the warriors whipped about, and riveted immediately upon Logan.
“They heard me as easily as you did. Why do they not answer me?” the warrior challenged Logan. “Tell your companions to answer. Your lives may depend on it. We will take no chances here.”
As if for emphasis, he raised up the axe gripped in his hand, his chiseled arm muscles flexing at the movement. Logan had little doubt as he watched the fluid movement that the warrior was well-seasoned with the deadly weapon.
Logan imagined the axe hurling forward in a flash, its blade embedding deep in the warrior’s intended target. He certainly did not want that gleaming axe-head to be lodged in his own flesh and bone.
“I don’t know, but I have an idea why they cannot answer you,” Logan replied quickly, trying to keep his timbre as respectful as he could. “They cannot understand you, as we can.”
He hoped against hope that the hard-looking warrior deemed his tone to be polite enough. He looked to the three without the pendants, his mind still very conscious of the sharp edge of the axe gripped in the warrior’s right hand.
There was no harm in answering the question that had been asked, and they were not in any position to bargain.
“Tell him your names. Answer him,” Logan insisted, looking to the other three. “Do you not understand him?”
Derek shook his head first, followed by Antonio and Janus.
“Not a word,” Derek confessed tersely. “I do not know how you are speaking with them. They don’t speak our language.”
“What did he say?” the leader of the warriors questioned Logan curtly, heightened agitation flowing within his words.
Logan looked back to the warrior, becoming more certain of his analysis. Derek had spoken loud enough to be easily heard by the leader, but it was quite apparent that the leader had not understood him.
“He doesn’t understand you, and he doesn’t understand why we can understand you,” Logan offered to the leader carefully, whose impassive expression did not change with the answer.
Derek then asked Logan in a low voice, “How do you understand him?”
“Put the pendants on,” Logan instructed him. He turned back towards the leader. “I think we can speak with you, because of these…”
He slowly brought up his right hand and fingered the blue stone resting upon his chest, lifting it up to display the object to the leader. The hardened warrior seemed to be further perplexed, and his eyes narrowed as he stared intently at the amulet. It was the most significant reaction yet that Logan had seen from the leader, and his interest in the pendant was very evident.
“I do not understand this. I understand you, the woman, and the other two. I see that all understand you when you speak. But you speak in our language. And these three do not understand us, and I do not understand their speech,” the figure said, his words outlining the confusing scenario.
The leader’s eyes flicked between the four wearing the pendants and the other three who were not. He seemed to be searching and studying them at the same time, his brow furrowing more in the intensity of his gaze.
“It must be some kind of magic, but they are not witches, shaman, or sorcerers. My vision is the same as that of Eagle Spirit. There is no dark magic here,” the second warrior that had emerged from behind Logan with a quartz crystal emphasized.
The lead warrior looked solemnly towards the crystal-bearing warrior, before quietly continuing in his scrutiny of Logan’s group. He regarded them for a few more minutes, which seemed like hours to Logan.
As if he came to the same understanding that Logan had reached, the leader stated at last, “Have them place the necklaces on. We will see if you speak truly.”
Logan passed on the directive from the warrior, with his own addendum. “Put your pendants on, but do it slowly.”
The others cooperated, and carefully donned their amulets, looking back to Logan, the warrior-leader, and all the others when they had done so.
“I will ask you again, who are you? Do you serve the Unifier?” the leader asked the trio.
Though a part of him had fully expected the reaction, Logan was still amazed as he saw the wonder dawning upon the faces of the others, as they suddenly comprehended the warrior’s words. In that moment, Logan knew that the strange old man in the blue robes had rendered each of them a most valuable gift. Yet whether the stranger had given it to them for reasons of good or for ill, Logan could still not tell for sure.
Presently, the gift was unquestionably an extraordinary blessing. The fact that the presence of the pendants also seemed acceptable, or at least tolerable, to the armed warriors surrounding them was certainly not a detriment either. Eyeing the arrows trained upon them, as well as the axes and the formidable-looking war clubs, Logan did not want to fathom what might have befallen his group had it been otherwise.
The implications of it all were unfolding quickly upon him. However inexplicable, a genuine type of magic was at work. The realization staggered Logan’s mind.
“No, we don’t serve any Unifier, and I don’t even know who this Unifier is,” Derek replied slowly, the echoes of his astonishment lingering in his face. “We are lost, far from our own world. I don’t even know where we are right now.”
An energetic murmur rippled through the gathering of warriors as they heard Derek speak. Logan could see their amazement, knowing that they understood his words after he had put on the pendant.
Janus and Antonio then voiced their agreement with Derek. As if it was an afterthought, all three then proceeded to give their names to the leader.
“Where did you get those?” the leader questioned the group, gesturing towards the amulets that had so evidently enabled their ability to converse.
“A stranger to us. An old man, with a long white beard and dressed in blue robes. He wore a patch over one eye, and would not give us his name,” Erika replied. “He only said that he was a wanderer through this world. He is the only person we have met since we have been here.”
Logan’s apprehension grew as Erika spoke, hoping that the strange old man was not by some ill twist of fate a great enemy of these warriors. The only thing that now existed in Logan’s world was the expression of the leader’s face, as he tensely awaited the man’s reaction to Erika’s statement.
To Logan’s great relief, the warrior’s posture relaxed, even to the point that there was the hint of a smile on his otherwise indifferent face.
“So, the Wanderer favors you. That is a good sign indeed,” the leader commented, his lightened tone reflecting the visible ebb of tautness from his face.
“What about the army we saw back there?” Logan ventured cautiously, casting a glance back towards the west. “Who were they?”
Several looks were exchanged among the surrounding warriors. The leader tensed again at the mention of the army, and for a moment Logan feared that he had just blundered into making an unnecessary provocation.
Fortunately, the leader’s face settled back once again, after a moment’s pause.
“I might ask you the same question,” the leader replied somberly. “The Unifier brings many from other lands. Some from very far away. I see clearly that you are not of our land. What are we to think? Yet the Wanderer favors you greatly. He could not be fooled by the arts of the Unifier. And if you worked the dark magic, the crystals would not be deceived. I do not yet understand any of this…”
The last words seemed like an exasperated confession, as the leader fell into an extended silence. Logan could see the frustration plainly enough upon the warrior’s face, and knew that he and the others were not yet out of danger.
Derek then declared, “We have nothing to do with that army back there. Not one thing. Honest. We have no idea about what that army is, what it is about, or where it is going. We truly know nothing. We simply heard its passage when we awoke this morning, and went to see what it was.”
“See if any have the markings,” the leader urged, addressing some of the warriors to his right.
The indicated warriors stepped forward without hesitation, directly approaching the seven. Logan and his companions offered them no resistance, as the warriors grasped their wrists with firm grips, looking very closely and carefully at their bare arms. Logan wondered what they could possibly be searching for, as he continued to cooperate fully with the unexplained inspection.
“Nothing,” one of the other warriors reported at last. “None of them bear the markings.”
At the warrior’s response, the leader let a small smile emerge. The grip on the shaft of his axe noticeably relaxed, as he lowered it down slowly to rest at his side.
“That is another good sign. It seems more likely that you are speaking the truth. For those pledged in full loyalty to the Unifier bear the markings, and it is certain that you are at least not one of them,” the leader said, his tone considerably warmer. “I did not think that the Wanderer could be deceived, especially by a dedicated servant of the Unifier. Such a taint cannot escape the Wanderer’s gaze.”
The leader hesitated, and his voice took on a more somber tone, as the slight smile faded into a stony mien. His eyes flitted between all of them, not meeting their eyes, but looking lower on their bodies.
“But there is still so much about you that is unknown. Your strange garments are different than anything I have ever seen. Not in any of my travels have I seen such garments.
“I once journeyed to large trade gatherings in the great city of Carcasse, within Gallea. Garments from far places in this world were traded there, yet nothing like those that you now wear.”
The leader’s voice then took on the air of a rendered judgement, as his gaze rose back up to meet theirs.
“As there is much that we do not understand about you, all of you must return with us to our village. You have not yet been found to be enemies, and as such, you will be treated as guests, with honor. You will receive food and shelter in our village, but you may not travel free until the Council says that you can do so.”
His eyes narrowed to a penetrating glare, the lines on his face becoming as rigid as stone. “But if you are liars about your purpose and allegiances, you will not walk alive from these woods.”
Logan had no doubts at all that the leader and his surrounding warriors could fulfill that grim pronouncement quite capably, and swiftly.
The leader looked off towards the west, as if he was taking momentary notice of the distant, marching army. The rumbles were not entirely gone, though the very faint sensations had dwindled to the brink of becoming completely imperceptible.
“You shall walk with us, as we must go from here now,” the leader stated firmly, turning back to them.
He gestured for Logan and the others to approach him, as the full group of warriors gathered closer together, in apparent readiness to move onward.
“I am called Ayenwatha,” he introduced himself. “And know that you are considered guests of the Onan tribe, one of the tribes of the Five Realms of the Sacred Fire.”
At a signal from Ayenwatha, the combined group then moved out, proceeding deeper into the forest towards the east. Logan was simply glad that they were heading away from the direction where the marching army had been, relieved to be putting some distance between his group and the massive force.
The ground underfoot finally carried no more traces of the army, and the tranquil sounds of the living forest filled the air once again. The wind flowed through the leaves of the trees overhead, creating brief openings that sprinkled rays of sunlight onto the lower growths, which were inundated with snowy white flowers. Had circumstances been otherwise, Logan would have rapidly found himself taken in by the timeless serenity reigning all around him.
Ayenwatha remained close to where Logan walked alongside Janus, just ahead of their other five companions. Logan chanced a look back towards the others. None looked to be the worse for wear. He exchanged a glance with Antonio, who gave him a rueful grin.
Logan discovered that each of the seven members of his group had a tribal warrior striding close behind them, as they traveled in a loose column through the woods. The implications were clear enough. The seven might well be considered guests, but their escorts were taking no chances.
He was not about to do anything to provoke the black and red painted warriors. He had already espied some grisly mementos being carried by a few of them. Bloodied swathes of skin, with locks of hair still attached, hung from the hide belts of those that bore them along.
Logan had a fairly good idea of what it meant to be considered as an enemy of the tribal warriors.