The Onan village to which Logan and the others were escorted was a fountainhead of tranquil imagery, from its own majestic, hilltop perch, to the sights within the scenic, forested terrain leading up to the prominent rise.
The village was nestled within a territory that was rich in beech and birch trees, as well as the white flowers amply decorating the ground that Logan had seen everywhere within the forest domain. The village itself surmounted a great hill, but the signs of human habitation came into view well before the party reached the base of its long slope.
The war party had announced its presence early on the approach to the hill, with a series of spirited cries and whoops that had carried far through the trees and hills. Logan had quickly perceived the rising enthusiasm running through the warriors, noticing at the same time that the group’s pace had picked up significantly. With the upswing in mood and the brazen outcries, he had known that it was not going to be much farther to their destination.
The next indication of their close proximity to the village came shortly thereafter. A couple of warriors that had been sent running ahead a short while earlier returned back to the war band. They had not come back alone, as they were accompanied by a small number of tribal women.
The faces of the women beamed radiantly when they came into sight and saw the rest of the war party. They quickly took notice of Logan and his six companions, eyes widening as they studied the strange appearances and clothing of the foreigners. An even more amazed look arose upon their faces when it was explained to them that the seven were not captives taken in battle.
The women’s purpose in meeting the war party was then revealed, though the women did not cease in casting furtive glances towards Logan and the others.
The rather grisly scalps that had been carried along by the warriors were then affixed to small rings that were set atop long, red-painted poles brought by the women. Once the scalps were attached, they took up the poles again as the group resumed its march through the woods. The women carried the poles upright and held high, like a standard, as they walked at the forefront of the war band.
The next tribal people that the party encountered were a number of men who had been engaged in hard labor. That was made quite apparent from the glisten of sweat covering their bared skin, their weary countenances, and the heavier breathing pervasive among them. Sunlight reflected off of many axe heads, the short wooden hafts held firmly within the hands of several of the men.
Many were bare of chest, wearing little more than a kind of hide breechcloth, of the type that went between their legs and was tucked over a hide belt in front and back. They wore no body paint, though a copious array of tattoos, reflecting the diversity of design seen upon the warriors, were worked into the skin of their lean bodies.
Though they had come to a complete halt in their labors at the approach of the war party, their undertaking was clear to Logan. They had been embroiled in the task of felling several trees within an area that was evidently being cleared for some future use.
The men, like the women carrying the poles, were elated at the sight of the returning war band. They hastened over and exchanged informal, fervent greetings with the warriors, several individuals in both groups clearly displaying affinity towards each other.
The men eyed Logan and his companions very closely, as Ayenwatha and the other warriors spoke briefly with them. The march was resumed again very shortly, as the men from the nascent clearing brought their hand axes along with them, falling in with the growing procession.
The enlarged group had not gone much farther when they ran into yet more members of the tribe that had been toiling with the land. In broad swathes of ground that had been fully cleared of trees, now teeming with small dirt mounds, a number of women had been laboring amid some newly sprouted crops.
Scattered throughout the mounds and growths, the women were fully oriented upon the war party’s presence by the time that it drew into their sight. Joyous smiles spread quickly, and within moments the throng of women was converging upon the marching group.
The war party came to yet another halt at that juncture. As the women gathered all around, Logan took the opportunity to study the females of the tribe a little more carefully.
The majority of the women was clad in one of two general styles of attire. One group wore wrap-around garments, not unlike long skirts, which were accompanied with cape-like tops on their upper bodies. Others were clad in full-length tunics. Both styles were fashioned of buckskin, most being left in a natural color, with a few dyed to darker hues.
The outer surfacing of the hide attire showed ample variation in the quill and beadwork patterns worked skillfully into them. Flowers, birds, and intertwining swirls gracefully ascended the women in beautiful displays of natural elements.
Richly decorated moccasins adorned the feet of the women, filled abundantly with even more dyed quill-work and beaded embellishments. On many of the pairs the ornamentation was augmented further around the high ankles of the moccasins, with fringes created from deer-hair tassels, each of them bound by little metallic cones.
The women had been using hoes crafted of wood and bone in their labors among the developing crop. Looking again at the planting area, Logan then noticed that the burgeoning yield was not uniform in nature. Rather, it contained multiple elements that had been planted purposefully together.
One of those crop elements was rising from the tops of the small dirt mounds, the growths roughly a span high. Another distinct element was sprouting on the surface of the mounds as well, maturing close to the taller, vertical growths. A third distinctive crop was fanning out from the base of the mounds, filling in the flatter ground in between the low rises.
“What are you growing here?” Logan had managed to ask Ayenwatha, as he stared out over the field. “Has it been planted for long?”
“When the leaf of the oak is the size of a squirrel’s foot, the Three Siblings are brought forth,” Ayenwatha replied, as if quoting some tribal maxim.
“The Three Siblings?” Logan asked curiously, wanting to learn something more of the intriguing people that were taking Logan and his companions in.
Ayenwatha related to Logan that the Three Siblings were the primary crops of the tribal people. As Ayenwatha explained it, maize stalks would rise up from the mounds of soil, and beans would then grow upward along the rising stalks, using them as support. The third of the Siblings, squash, would grow profusely all over the lower ground, thickly covering the spaces in between the small mounds with their broad leaves.
Logan nodded, as he looked around at the women now fully gathered all around them.
The women, who mostly ranged from young adulthood to middle age, displayed a great exuberance at the arrival of the war band. Like the others that the war band had come across, they looked upon Logan and the others with both curiosity and a little trepidation exhibited in their faces.
A few children, likely having mothers amongst the field laborers, soon made their presence known among the throng greeting the war party. The little ones worked their way eagerly to the forefront of the gathered women, taking quick note of the interesting newcomers among the war party.
The youngest among them were entirely unclothed, much to Logan’s surprise and slight awkwardness. The presence of clothing, and the amount of it, increased with their age, with the oldest of the children being garbed in very similar manners to the adults.
The children chattered and giggled excitedly, talking amongst themselves as well as calling out to the warriors. They all remained close to the adult women, clearly keeping a little cautious distance from the strangers.
A few of the warriors laughed merrily and teased the children, who appeared to be utterly fascinated with the seven guests, making no effort to hide their feelings. Many little mouths fell agape, eyes widening with incredulity and amazement at the sight of the peculiar clothes and foreign appearances of Logan’s group.
The mothers, trying to maintain a certain level of composure, endeavored to deflect the flurry of hushed and blurted questions cast at them by the inquisitive, unsubtle youth.
The women from the crop field subsequently joined their number to the swelling entourage, as the group continued onward following the short delay. The children, though staying intensely interested in the exiles, maintained a healthy distance from the foreigners as they trotted out to the sides of the war party.
The expanding party proceeded on past the field, finally moving towards the base of the village’s great hill, which came into sight through the trees, the prominent elevation looming high above everything around it.
The village was quite an impressive sight seen from below, drawing Logan’s eyes immediately upward as he strode out from the trees and walked forward under the open sky. The summit of the large hill had been entirely cleared of trees and brush, as had the slopes. An encompassing wooden palisade of vertical stakes had been erected all along the contours of the hilltop’s outer edges.
Just beyond a thin strip of ground at the base of the palisade were some earthworks, which consisted of a broad ditch and outer embankment that had been cut into the hillside itself. The ditch and embankment looked as if it would be a very potent obstacle to any threat seeking to reach the palisade itself.
The long walk up the slope to the village was accompanied by an increasing amount of jubilance and fanfare from the tribal people. The returning warriors shouted and cried out boisterously as they approached the timber crown surmounting the hilltop. The women carrying the poles with the scalps, still at the forefront of the entire procession, called out in loud, resonant voices, before breaking into vibrant, chant-like singing. They waved the poles back and forward, proudly heralding the return of the war party.
Several other tribal warriors filed out of the narrow entrance in the palisade wall to greet the party as they ascended the lengthy slope. The emerging warriors were not covered in the red and black paint, such as that gracing all the members of the war party. Like all the groups that the war party had recently come across, they also looked happy and very relieved to see the approaching contingent.
Also similar to all of the others, they took an immediate, profound interest in the seven foreigners.
The chorus of animated cries and vibrant songs filled the air underneath the bright silken skies, as the war band funneled through a gap in the earthen embankment and continued forth through the village entrance, with the rest of the crowd in their wake. Within the palisade’s narrow entryway was a considerable expanse of open ground, which was occupied by numerous wooden structures.
Most of the edifices were of a generally similar, elongated appearance, which varied only in their absolute lengths. They ranged from a few dozen feet up to some greater ones that were well over a couple hundred feet long. Sprinkled in amongst them were a few smaller, circular wooden huts, as well as some tall vertical posts, which displayed an array of surface carvings.
Another similarly narrow opening within the outer palisade was evident at the far end of the large enclosure, placed just opposite to the one that Logan and his companions had just passed through.
A number of high wooden platforms, accessible by steep sets of narrow, ladder-like steps, each provided with thin timber railing, had been erected at several locations along the inside of the palisade. From their positioning and height, it was very obvious to Logan that these platforms were intended for defensive purposes.
As Logan gazed out over the grounds of the enclosure and the structures within it, he noted that the largest of the elongated buildings was placed at what looked to be the very center of the village. A garden plot brimming with what looked to be young tobacco plants sat just adjacent to it. Smaller such garden plots accompanied some of the other lengthy edifices.
The particular construction of the dominant form of building was made very evident a few moments later, as Logan set his eyes upon a mid-sized structure of the type that was currently undergoing an extension in its length. Materials such as stacks of bark sheaths, various poles derived from saplings and thicker tree sections, and coils of hempen rope were clustered near to the skeletal framing of the extension.
The longhouses were covered in a type of elm bark paneling or sheathing, affixed over a framework of tied elm poles. Sapling poles bent into arches formed ceiling rafters.
From the look of the unfinished structure, it could be seen that the longhouses were divided into chamber-like increments within their interiors. There was a sheltered entrance at each end of the longhouses, where bark panels were hung over their entryways with images worked upon their facings.
Logan did not have long to regard the construct, or much of anything else. Villagers quickly surrounded the group, pressing in close, with more streaming in every moment towards the increasing mass by the entrance. They emerged from within and around the many structures, hurrying in from farther areas of the village’s interior, ceasing whatever tasks they had been engaged in.
A few women off to Logan’s right got up from where they had been arraying gathered berries on the surfaces of bark trays. Another woman set down a long wooden pestle by a mortar that looked like a hollowed-out tree trunk, releasing her grip on the narrow midsection, spanning between the two thick ends with rounded heads.
A little baby was resting securely in a wooden cradle-board, suspended from a peg fixed into a high, stout timber post near to her. She paused only long enough to gather up the decorated cradle-board and her baby, a plump little urchin swaddled in dark cloth wrapping that was ornamented with light-colored beadwork.
Logan caught the sight of a number of horses gathered off to the left. They were not saddled, but it was clear that they were being prepared for a journey. All were bearing loads that consisted of hide pouches or stacks of furred skins. Several men were striding away from them, moving to join the rest of the villagers.
More young children were now emerging from where they had been playing deeper amongst the longhouses and huts, accompanied by a bevy of dogs. Bounding alongside them, the canines wagged their tails vigorously in the growing commotion.
The children’s jubilant cries and excited shrieks were mixed with the playful barking of the dogs, putting a cheerful tint upon the living, dynamic picture evolving before Logan’s eyes.
Logan almost chuckled aloud as he beheld the extremely humorous sight of one particularly chubby little fellow, who was trotting as best as he possibly could to keep up with the other children. The little one’s shaky balance showed that it had not been all that long since he had ceased crawling as his primary method of movement.
Logan winced as one of the accompanying dogs nearly tripped the little fellow up, causing him to totter for a second. Logan breathed a sigh of relief as the child stabilized, managing somehow to remain upright.
The broad mixture of old men and women, children, young adults, and several more warriors all appeared eager to get a closer look at the eccentric appearances of the strangers brought back by the war party. They herded around the seven, those farther in back craning their necks and jostling to get better positions, their eyes drinking in the sight of Logan and his companions.
Among the last of the villagers to arrive to the throng around Logan’s group were some of the most intriguing individuals of all.
A few older women, of particularly stately bearings, methodically came up join the gathering. Several younger members of the tribe escorted these women with obvious reverence. The crowd parted wide to allow the elderly women access to the forefront of the assemblage, many conceding their prime locations in deference to the women.
One of the elderly women caught Logan’s attention in particular, as she came to stand almost directly before him. She was wearing a full-length, black-dyed buckskin dress, richly ornamented with dyed quill-work. A distinctive image was visible on the front of her tunic-dress, surrounded by a bevy of swirls and floral representations. It featured a large, semicircular shape, which arched over a pair of parallel lines, whose width spanned to the ends of the semicircle.
The old woman gazed upon Logan with an impassive expression resting upon her heavily creased face. The look in her dark eyes was alert and penetrating, and he wished that he could read her thoughts.
Another distinctive individual caught Logan’s attention in a similar way, an older man whose approach was also accompanied by gestures of respect and deference among the other villagers. Like the elderly woman, he came to stand close to Logan.
He was wearing a headdress fashioned from the thick-furred skin of a brown bear. The bear’s upper jaws crowned the old man’s head, lending his stern, eagle-like visage even more strength as he stared fixedly towards the foreigners.
Logan held the man’s eyes for only a moment, before his attention was taken in again by the swirl of faces all around. The tribal people were still cheering and lauding the warriors, but it was becoming abundantly clear that burning questions were on the tips of all their tongues. Murmurs ran abundantly through the crowd, coming from lips set underneath eyes that were intently scrutinizing Logan’s group.
Before the tension at the unanswered inquiries became too uncomfortably palpable, Ayenwatha stepped forward from the war band and swept his gaze over all of them. A hush fell upon the crowd at his movement, as a host of expectant eyes turned to regard him.
“My brothers and sisters of the Onan, of the village of the Place of Far Seeing, the war party has returned… and with very good tidings. We have not lost even one of our brothers, while gaining a victory over the enemies that would seek to do us harm,” Ayenwatha announced, his tone resonant, and unmistakably proud as it carried over all the gathering.
As if to emphasize the triumphant result of the excursion, the women bearing the scalps waved the poles back and forward again in a salutatory fashion. The gesture elicited a chorus of whoops, cries, and cheers that pierced the air.
Logan could both see and feel the ecstatic surge of delight at the news of the full survival of the war party. The exuberance was especially reflected within the faces of many women that had begun to step forward to greet individual warriors in the band. All of these women wore their hair with a single, long braid down their backs.
Logan did not have to ask anyone regarding the identity of the women stepping forward. Their faces emanated the lightness of sheer relief, along with the radiance of unrestrained joy and affection towards their returned husbands.
The scalp-poles were then given over to some of these women. The particular woman that received the pole displaying multiple scalps had a sparkling expression as she accepted it from the female bearer. She gazed back proudly at the warrior that she had just been embracing, raising the pole high and letting out an energetic, victorious whoop, flashing a dazzling smile at him. The other women receiving scalp-poles had similarly beaming expressions and reactions as they turned to regard their husbands, who, Logan fathomed, were undoubtedly the ones responsible for the war trophies. Following the handing over of the scalp-poles, it took a few more moments for the renewed adulation to settle down again.
The crowd then became subdued once more, as Ayenwatha resumed his address, turning to look upon the seven foreigners as he spoke. To Logan, it felt as if the air immediately thickened with the multitude of inquisitive stares that fell in mass upon him and his fellow exiles. The pervasive stillness held the acute, weighty sensation of the enveloping throng collectively holding their breaths.
“As you can see with your own eyes, we have seven with us who are not of the tribes… and who are not of these lands. They were not taken as prisoners by our war party, and do not appear to be of the enemy. Their stay among us is still to be decided,” Ayenwatha stated firmly. “But know that they carried no sign of the dark magic. The crystals speak truly, and it is certain that they do not practice the dark ways.
“For now, they are to be my guests. They are to be treated as guests of the Onan, while their fate among our people will be decided by our village council.”
Logan could read a wide range of responses within the faces and eyes oriented towards the seven strangers. Mistrust, apprehension, hostility, and even some smatterings of welcome were displayed in the variety of expressions in view around him.
The diverse reactions left him in a more uncertain state, after having just gained a little more confidence while traveling along with the war party. Though Ayenwatha had treated Logan and the others politely enough, it was now very clear that the seven were still facing a very unpredictable situation.
“Prepare now for the welcome, with meat and the sweetness of the maple,” Ayenwatha then announced, his words bringing a little of the former levity back to the atmosphere. Though many of the tribal people continued to stare at Logan and the other newcomers, Ayenwatha’s words were greeted with considerable enthusiasm.
Logan looked to the sachem for some indication as to what was to come next. Ayenwatha’s eyes roved across the faces of the crowd, and looked well beyond the gathering, as if searching for someone in particular.
Ayenwatha then turned and conferred in private with some of the warriors that had initially come out of the village to greet them. All that Logan was able to gather were some passing references to a person named Deganawida. From what he could glean from snippets of their conversation, the desired individual was not currently within the village.
Ayenwatha looked visibly displeased at the news of the person’s absence, and Logan found himself wondering who the sought individual might be.
The sachem then turned his attention back to the seven exiles. He gestured for them to follow, as he stepped forward and guided Logan and the others onward, heading deeper into the village. The crowd dutifully parted aside to allow all of them a channel to pass through, and Logan could feel the heavy stares that lingered to his sides and back as they proceeded through the congested assemblage.
Ayenwatha, a few escorting warriors, and the seven foreigners passed deep into the midst of the elongated structures. They finally drew near to the cluster of greater longhouses that Logan had espied earlier, in the village’s center.
The sachem led them straight towards the end of one of the extensive longhouses. Ayenwatha did not break stride as he pushed aside a hide flap spanning the sheltered opening and proceeded inside. As he passed just beneath the bark panel suspended over the entryway, Logan carefully eyed the symbol depicted upon it.
The symbol was that of a very unusual, six-legged beast, sharp of fang with decidedly cat-like features. He hoped that such an unusual creature was just a mythical depiction, a construct of tribal imagination, and not any actual representation of what lay out in the surrounding forest; the forest which Logan and the others had just been walking through.
Passing under the sheltered porch-entrance, the group filed through the hide-draped opening into a sort of vestibule. It held within it a number of barrels fashioned out of bark sheaths, as well as a quantity of corn-husk baskets and pottery containers. The object of greatest abundance stored within the space was firewood, the sections of which had been collected and piled into many sizeable stacks.
The group did not linger within the storage area as they headed straight through another opening a few paces immediately ahead, similar to the entryway behind them. Once through it, they found themselves within the first interior chamber of an inhabited longhouse.
Ayenwatha drew to a halt within the chamber, as if to indulge the visitors’ curiosities. Logan was grateful for the pause, as he gazed around at a fully finished living chamber. It was a segment of the same type that he had just seen in the process of being crafted outside, the extension to the mid-sized longhouse near the village entrance.
To each side of Logan’s group were raised, bark-covered platforms, set at about a sitting level for an average adult. Upon the platforms were long corn-husk mats and several animal skins, both of which Logan figured were used for sleeping at night.
Over their heads, running along each side of the chamber, and also constructed of thick sheets of bark, were shelves being used for the storage of foodstuffs, tools, weapons, hides, and other various items. Some of the implements in view were very interesting in appearance, catching Logan’s attention momentarily. One of these items looked like a racquet of some type, perhaps giving a hint as to the kind of sport engaged in by the tribes. Nearby was a pair of matching objects that featured latticed, broad bodies, looking distinctly like a set of snow shoes.
Logan could see the edges of shallow pits that had been dug out directly beneath the lower sleeping platforms. The pits also appeared to be for storage, as he could see the dark shapes of objects contained within them, though their specific forms were shrouded in deep shadow.
A few feet of open space extended along the side walls from each end of the lower platforms, the small areas holding more bark barrels, as well as a few stacks of firewood. A bark-panel wall, pierced by a narrow opening, divided the living chamber from the next compartment in the longhouse sequence.
While the upper and lower platforms arranged on each half of the chamber, as well as the storage spaces, inherently mirrored their opposite sides, not everything within the section was duplicated. Set into the middle of the compartment was a singular fire pit, which was presumably shared in common by the occupants of the two analogous living spaces.
Farther above Logan, hanging from the elm-pole rafters of the ceiling, were what appeared to several braided bunches of corn, as well as long strips of some type of dried meat or fish. There was also a small hole in the ceiling that was positioned directly over the fire pit, presumably for the escape of smoke.
Despite the smoke hole, Logan could quickly see that ventilation in the chamber was very limited, and that any fire burning in the hearth pit would quickly render the room congested and hazy. Even without an active fire burning the air was thicker to the lungs, and heavily laced with strong, musky scents. Logan surmised that it would not take very much to make the interior conditions unbearable to his own senses.
“There are two families to each chamber, one living on each side,” Ayenwatha explained, as Logan and the others continued to gaze around. “For now, you will be staying in this longhouse, which is of my own Firaken Clan, for I am responsible for your presence in the village. Now, come forward with me, and I will take you to your quarters.”
Ayenwatha led them onward, across the chamber, passing through the next opening and continuing through the midst of several more similar dwelling spaces until they finally came to one that had very few signs of habitation. If anything, it appeared to be wholly abandoned.
The chamber’s upper shelves, rafters, hearth pit, and open spaces were largely barren, save for a few mats, hides, a couple stacks of firewood, and a few other elements.
Ayenwatha drew to a stop in the chamber, and turned to face the group as they gathered around him. “This chamber is where you may rest amongst yourselves for now. It is not being occupied at the moment. A terrible sickness claimed many from the village a few seasons ago, and not all chambers in the great longhouses have been reoccupied. I must go now, to tell the others of everything that has happened, and of you. I will return for you when I am finished.”
Ayenwatha then walked through the middle of the group and made his way out of the chamber, heading back the way they had come, leaving the seven exiles all by themselves for the first time since they had been surrounded. A few moments after Ayenwatha had left, the group began to quietly spread out within their assigned living quarters.
Logan walked away from the others, heading towards the lower platform that was set to the right side of the opening through which they had entered the chamber. Antonio followed after him a few moments later, and the two friends sat down side by side upon the platform’s edge. Feeling the rough, uneven surface beneath him, Logan knew that it would take some time getting used to the furnishings.
Logan glanced over to his right, towards Antonio. In that moment, Logan realized that the two of them, so used to confiding closely in each other over recent years, had not spoken much at all together since they had joined up with Erika and Mershad in the forest.
“So much change, so fast,” Logan muttered, low enough that his words were delivered in relative privacy.
Antonio replied in an equally subdued voice, “Everything is moving fast. Makes me feel kind of helpless. I don’t think we have real freedom anymore. None at all. Any way you look at it. And I mean… any way.”
He pointedly glanced over at the opening that Ayenwatha had just departed through. Logan followed his friend’s gaze and saw that there were a few of Ayenwatha’s warriors lingering quietly within the adjacent chamber. Seeing their presence, Logan had little doubt that if he, or any of his companions, were to walk through the next opening into the other abutting chamber, they would likely encounter another warrior or two.
For the time being, it was abundantly clear that the seven were not going to be allowed to exit the longhouse of their own accord. Their hosts were treating them with a cordial respect, perhaps even generously given the circumstances, but it was still one that had its precautions and firm parameters.
“We will work with whatever we’ve got,” Logan finally replied, staring at the forms of the warriors for a moment longer before returning his gaze back to Antonio. “Really, it’s just like every day back in our own world. We didn’t control those circumstances either. We did whatever we had to do… in response to whatever we had before us.”
Logan paused, and then gave Antonio a rueful grin. “Though I admit the things facing us back home were a whole lot more familiar to us.”
“But where is this all headed to?” Antonio asked with a forlorn expression. Logan could see the fear glistening in his friend’s eyes. “If it wasn’t for the fact that we’re going through it hour by hour together, it would be hard for me to believe any of this is even real. But I know it is no dream…”
Logan shook his head, “I don’t know. The best thing that’s happened is that we haven’t panicked too much. I know that we’re all scared. I would be a fool and a liar to say otherwise. But we can’t lose control now, and we can’t start panicking. Things would get much worse, very quickly. We have to keep our wits about ourselves, even if it all looks like murk and storms ahead.”
Antonio nodded with a pensive expression at Logan’s advice. Logan knew that his friend would likely heed the sentiments that he had voiced, even if Antonio was none too happy about their current state of affairs; prisoners in a foreign land that had a blackening cloud of war spreading over it.
Logan looked over at the rest of the group. Two were milling about the opening to the chamber on his left, while a couple more were occupying the surface of the platform opposite to him.
Kent, clearly restless, was working to climb up to the overhead platform on the other side of the chamber. Logan watched him idly, somewhat curious as to what Kent was up to.
“So what do you think of the others? Do you think that everyone else can hold themselves together for long?” Antonio asked Logan.
Logan, continuing to watch Kent’s upward progress, nodded affirmatively. “I think so. I think they all can. Especially Derek. He’s probably our best fighter, if things come down to something that needed that, and he’s got a military background. We talked about it during our turn together on the night’s watch. And I really think Erika and Janus are very capable individuals too. She’s a strong one, with a lot of willpower. Janus is one of those quiet, tenacious types. He’s not one that would easily let us down.
“As for Kent, it is a little questionable, but he seems to be managing okay for the moment. And Mershad… I don’t know enough about him yet, but my gut tells me he’s good. But I honestly think all of them will be fine. I really do.”
“Well, let’s make the best of it then, like you say. Everyone in this room is kind of like our family now, in a way,” Antonio observed. His grin, likely meant to be encouraging, was laced with nervousness. “I…”
“No weapons! Put that down! And come down here, right now!”
Antonio flinched as their conversation was curtly interrupted, a stern, authoritative voice coming from the opening that they had entered the chamber through.
Kent had succeeded in climbing up to the overhead platform, and had been marveling at one of the ball-ended, carved timber war clubs that he had found lying up there. His expression in the wake of the admonishment was not far from that of a naughty child caught red-handed.
Kent set the club down slowly, and carefully climbed back down to the ground level. His face was flush as he turned around to face the others.
“Sorry, sorry, I just was curious about what was up there, that’s all,” Kent said gently to the strong-looking warrior that was now standing in the entryway, glowering at him. Kent held his hands up, palms open, in a placating gesture.
The plainly irritated warrior moved quickly past Kent, climbing up swiftly to the upper platform and retrieving the weapon. He took a few moments to search about the platform before coming back down. Crossing the chamber, he climbed and checked the other higher platform.
The warrior appeared to be more annoyed with the fact that the weapon was up there, than he was angered with Kent’s transgression. Once back on the ground again, the warrior turned to face all of the chamber’s occupants, fixing each of them with a sharp, piercing glance. His dark eyes held a hardened, inflexible look within them.
“No weapons!” he said firmly.
“Kent, sit still! Can’t you at least do that for a few minutes?” Derek vented, with obvious exasperation. Derek looked over to the warrior, and spoke politely. “I apologize for our friend. He did not mean to provoke, he’s just very curious about everything here. All of this is new to us.”
Janus rolled his eyes from where he stood next to Derek. He turned to Erika and Mershad, chuckling. “Kids. Can’t always watch them.”
The others returned a nervous, low laughter from where they were sitting on the lower platform. The warrior in the doorway relaxed his posture somewhat as Kent shuffled away from the platform, to come over and stand by Derek and Janus. Another warrior had come up to stand next to the first one by then, and neither showed any impending signs of leaving, or ceasing in their supervision of the seven foreigners.
Turning his head, Logan saw that a third warrior had taken up a vigil in the chamber’s other opening. Like the other two, he gazed with a humorless expression upon Logan’s group. The sight of the warrior instantly confirmed Logan’s earlier suspicions regarding the possibility of guarding occupants within the other adjacent chamber.
Though they were not making any special effort to intimidate, the presence of the three warriors had the instant effect of dampening all conversation within the room. Sitting down upon various edges of the lower platforms on each side of the chamber, Logan and the others quietly bided their time.
Looking sullen and castigated, Kent moved deeper on the platform towards the chamber wall. He lay on his back across one of the animal skins and stared up at underside of the upper platform, brooding in the tense stillness of the chamber.
The warrior that had initially spoken then handed the confiscated war club over to his companion, and calmly walked over to the platform, looking down at Kent.
“Use the mat, place it underneath you against the wood,” he instructed Kent in a slightly softer tone of voice, gesturing towards one of the corn-husk mats lying close by. “It will be more comfortable for you.”
Finally understanding the warrior’s intent, Kent nodded and sat up. He pulled the nearby mat over, pulled the animal skin onto it, and shifted his body to lie atop all of it. The warrior seemed satisfied, turning and walking quietly back to the chamber’s entryway.
Despite the considerate gesture by the warrior, the time nonetheless continued to pass by with a heavy, pensive silence pervading the chamber. Logan stared down at the empty fire pit a few feet in front of him, letting his mind slowly drift off.
It may have been hours or just minutes later, but Logan’s sluggish attention was fully roused as the warriors in the doorway straightened up suddenly, and the sound of low voices came to his ears. The two warriors to Logan’s left proceeded to step aside, clearing the opening, amid a general sound of shuffling and shifting in the adjacent chamber.
The warrior in the opposite chamber opening had an attentive look upon his face, his gaze no longer fixed upon the occupants of the chamber, but rather on the other entryway. Logan followed the warrior’s eyes back across the room, to see what had compelled his attention.
A tall, older man with gray-streaked long hair then walked through the opening to Logan’s left, followed a step behind by Ayenwatha.
The older man had a hardened look woven into his amply creased face. Though clearly a man very advanced of years, his authoritative presence was accompanied by an aura of strength.
Wide-set, straight lines of a lighter hue streaked down his face. Showing prominently against the darker skin of his weathered face, the set of markings spanned from under the older man’s right eye down to just below his sharp chin. They looked like old scars, from the raking claws of some great, predatory beast.
He wore a banded type of headdress, the wide part circling about his head generously decorated with colorful bead and quill-work. Out of the center of the headdress emerged a plumage of long feathers, mixed with what looked to be clusters of horsehair. Two prominent feathers rose straight upward from the apex of the head covering.
The arms of his knee-length, buckskin tunic and leggings exhibited ornamented garters. They were wrapped snugly about his upper arms and at his knees, with the ending lengths dangling down from where they were tied off. An elaborate, multicolored strap traveled across his chest from the right shoulder down to his waist, where it secured a similarly decorated pouch.
His feet were clad in bead-decorated, moosehair-tasseled moccasins, and his ears exhibited long, circular earrings that were crafted of alternating dark and light hued shell beads.
“Deganawida, Great Sachem of the Onan Tribe, first on the seat of the Grand Council, Headman of the village of the Place of Far Seeing,” Ayenwatha announced.
Logan regarded the regal-looking old man carefully, recalling the name from the inquiries made by Ayenwatha when they had first entered into the village. Logan felt certain that the man now standing before them was the person that had been spoken of.
The seven occupants of the chamber arose at his entrance, giving nods and awkward bows towards Deganawida. Logan was one of the latter, not really knowing what the proper gesture of respect was for the Onan tribe’s particular culture. He endeavored not to make lingering eye contact with the old sachem, figuring that might well be taken as an affront.
There was a hint of amusement gracing the older man’s face when Logan glanced up, as if the sachem had perceived their cultural confusion.
“Deganawida has come here to speak with you himself… about your coming, and about your purpose here,” Ayenwatha informed the seven in a low voice. He then took a step backward into the opening to the chamber, turning and leaving Deganawida by himself with the seven.
The old sachem looked towards the seven, regarding each one of them intently for a few moments, before moving his gaze onward to the next. To Logan, the sachem’s methodical and scrutinizing manner evoked thoughts of the blue-robed Wanderer back in the woods.
When the sachem’s gaze encompassed him, Logan inadvertently caught the older man’s direct stare. The quality of it caused him to hesitate, despite his inclination to avoid meeting the old man’s eyes.
The alert, penetrating look within the sachem’s sparkling, dark eyes elicited even more comparisons to the Wanderer. It was as if Deganawida was looking through Logan’s skin, to something far more inward.
Logan had the inexplicable sensation that the tribal elder’s eyes could willfully look even deeper than his very thoughts. The feeling was quite unsettling, in that Logan was left in an unprecedented state of nakedness, one that went far beyond a mere lack of physical clothing.
“I have heard that you are not from our lands, or any that we know of. I have heard it said that some great magic is responsible for your presence here in the tribal lands. I have also heard that you spoke with a special man, the Wanderer, who is well known to us in our lands. I would like to hear you speak more about all of these things,” Deganawida told them. His voice matched his august appearance. It was low, resonant, and, although gentle in tone, carried an unmistakable air of authority just underneath its surface.
Logan looked to each of the others, and saw various degrees of caution and hesitancy in his companions. After a long pause, he finally took the initiative and started to relate their story to the prominent sachem.
On the way to the village, Logan and Erika had done most of the talking on behalf of the group. This time, Janus and Derek interchanged more often with Logan and Erika, as the four fleshed out the account of their strange experience with considerable detail. Kent, Mershad, and Antonio looked apprehensive and very uncomfortable, more than content to keep quiet and let their companions do the telling.
The tribal elder showed no reactions or emotion during the telling of their story. His attention was studious and ardently focused, as if he were pondering every single word that the visitors uttered. Even after the tale had been finished, he stayed silent, and appeared to be in deep contemplation for several minutes before he finally spoke aloud again.
“You speak of an incredible journey. One that is difficult to imagine. The gift of the Wanderer helps your speech, but I can tell by your appearances that you are not from any land that I have ever heard spoken of within this world. I do not sense any lies in your words. I do see your confusion, and I feel your fear. These are not the things I would see in a gathering whose purpose was bent upon deception and evil.
“Yet all things within this world have both good and evil within them, to a greater or lesser amount. It lies within each of us to decide which to empower, and it is possible that you may yet have darker things hidden that I cannot yet sense.
“Even so, I believe your words, and, as Ayenwatha has done, I can do no less than offer you a refuge and welcome within our village. I do not know if you will remain safe, even here in the midst of our people. As you have learned, the forces of the Unifier draw very near, and the skies are increasingly filled with the dark storms of war. That is something beyond your power, or ours, to determine. What will come, will come.
“For today, you may eat well and rest. I will leave you to yourselves now, but I would like for you to join me for a feast, and a celebration of life, this very evening.”
Deganawida then displayed a hint of a smile, one that emanated a kindly, compassionate warmth. The effect was enhanced within his dark eyes, the surfaces of which seemed to glitter from an inner light.
While there was little doubt that Deganawida had a very intense interest in the newcomers, Logan was relieved to see the signs of an affable disposition in the tribal sachem.
Deganawida turned and withdrew from the chamber. There was a momentary delay, as Logan strained futilely to make out the substance of a low conversation that then ensued in the adjacent chamber. Finally surrendering in his efforts, Logan stared impatiently towards the opening until Ayenwatha finally entered to rejoin them.
“Deganawida sees good within you,” Ayenwatha greeted them with a smile. The warrior appeared to be very pleased with whatever initial evaluation the great sachem had just rendered, further allaying Logan’s anxieties. “It is our way to respect each individual as a creation of the One Spirit, but we also cannot endanger the village.
“I will speak further with Deganawida, and it may be that you will be allowed to walk outside the village… but warriors of the village must always go with you. I hope that you understand this necessity. These are not usual times… for you, or for us. For now, rest, and soon you shall eat and drink to your fill.”
Without further comment, or waiting for any sort of reply, Ayenwatha turned and walked out of the chamber, leaving the seven alone to themselves once more.
Logan glanced over at his companions. He could sense that all of their moods had been given a lift upwards, likely encouraged by the favorable reaction of Deganawida, and the lightened mood that had just been exhibited by Ayenwatha.
All of them looked to be very fatigued, a fact that quickly emerged in the conversations that then took place amongst themselves. It was unanimously, and swiftly, decided that they should all make use of the time available, and take full advantage of the chance for a little rest.
Logan had no arguments, as there was little else to do to occupy the time. It would be a little easier to relax in their current environment. There was no need for a watch anymore, as they were under considerable guard within the center of the village, and within the longhouse itself.
For the first time since they had come into the new world, Logan realized that there was little risk in letting his own guard down for awhile. Even so, he knew that it would still be a very hard thing to do, with every part of his being still set on edge.
Spreading themselves throughout the two similarly arrayed halves of the chamber, the seven took their places upon the raised platforms. Using the animal skins and cornhusk mats, they wearily adjusted their positions, lay down, and gave themselves over to rest.
Logan soon found that the harder surface of the platform was rather uncomfortable, even with mats and skins providing a buffer between his body and the bark platform. It was nonetheless a great improvement over the altogether unforgiving bare earth, on which he had restlessly spent the previous night.
Yet the platform was not the only source of discomfort for Logan. His own stomach had begun to incur the first pangs of a steadily growing hunger. Logan’s only comfort was that he knew that when they were roused awake, the feast that had been declared by Deganawida would be imminent.
As sorely tired as he was, the hard platform and empty stomach proved to be of little impediment. The discomforts faded along with his consciousness on his drift into a deep and welcome slumber.