The trespassers had unusually strange clothing, and their speech was like nothing that Gunther had ever heard before, not in even one of the many lands that he had traversed during his lifetime.
While they did not yet appear to be minions of the Unifier, Gunther stalked them with due caution. Life had long ago taught him very hard lessons about taking anything for granted. One erroneous judgement could be lethal.
Times were more shadowy and dismal than ever before. The most recent tidings were a constant burden to Gunther’s mind, and he wondered as to whether the strangers had anything to do with the darkness sweeping across the Saxan lands.
Males from the outermost villages of Saxany were being called up by a full-scale, general levy, known in the Saxan lands as the General Fyrd. The distressing news had reached Gunther’s ears when he had recently visited Ebba, an older blacksmith who lived within the village of Oak Crossing.
The village was the nearest human habitation to Gunther’s solitary woodland abode. It was named after an ancient, majestic oak tree that sat astride the crossroads of a couple of the more remote forest trails.
Not liking the droll field work that so many Saxan villagers were engaged in, Ebba had stepped forward when the village’s previous smith had taken sick and died. Having aided the smith often before, Ebba had gained just enough skill, and had scraped up enough equipment, to serve as an adequate blacksmith for the small village community.
As practically everyone needed his services, including all the other artisans, he had soon enjoyed a more prominent position in the village, even though his work was fairly mediocre.
His time was largely spent on simple, practical fare, such as the making of nails, working with small knives, and other common implements. He was also one of the very few people that the reclusive woodsman interacted with more than once a year.
The sight of the thin-faced older man was always amusing in itself to Gunther. Regularly coated with charcoal dust, and with his sparser strands of graying hair disheveled all about his narrow head, Ebba’s appearance alone had often evoked a smile from Gunther.
Gunther’s latest visit to Ebba had been for some strap-end clasps, a quantity of iron nails, a pair of small cutting shears, and the acquisition of a new hand axe head for use around his homestead. As Ebba retrieved and gathered the items together that Gunther had requested on his previous visit, the blacksmith had related the dire tidings that had cast such a pall over Saxan hearts.
A massive storm front of war had been hurled forth by the Unifier. It was heading directly eastward, rolling steadily towards Saxany, being conveyed through neighboring Ehrengard. Many allies of Avanor were involved in supporting the war effort, from what Ebba had learned from some messengers and Saxan warriors that had passed through the village on their way to designated mustering points.
There had been no choice left to King Alcuin in the face of the impending war but to issue a full levy summons. Even little, remote Oak Crossing had not found itself immune from the demands of the General Fyrd.
Ebba was one of the few remaining adult males left in Oak Crossing, just old enough that he was deemed incapable of holding up to longer marches. Ebba had still been working long hours to help ready the men of Oak Crossing that had since departed for their assigned mustering point.
Ebba had shaken his head sadly, describing what he had thought as he handed over reforged knives to anxious village men, and done whatever he could to shore up the iron heads of picks and scythes normally used for farm work. The only true weapons in the village had been the hunting bows possessed by a few of the men.
In Ebba’s opinion, a rabble was being sent out to meet a well-prepared invader in battle, and nothing about it boded well to him.
Gunther tried to comfort Ebba by reminding him that the villagers were just part of a much larger force that would include thanes, household warriors, and many other better trained and equipped men.
Nonetheless, the news had been very disheartening, especially as this was no summons for a localized defense. Ebba would have been expected to take part in repelling such a threat, as he was strong enough to hold a weapon. Rather, the Saxans were moving huge forces far from their home regions, bolstering up a line of defense that was being positioned in the far west of their realm.
The grim news had put Gunther on immediate alert, and he had mulled it all over carefully by the time that he had returned to his dwelling from Oak Crossing. He had kept the news in the forefront of his mind all throughout the far-ranging hunting foray that had now brought him to the very edge of Wessachia’s boundaries.
He did not often venture into the nearby County of Annenheim, but a part of him wanted to have a look around the outskirts of the area to see if he might come across any signs of the impending invasion.
A general levy of all able-bodied men, to be sent on a campaign, was no small matter. It heralded a very dangerous emergency, with existential implications for the Saxan Realm.
Gunther had not yet come across the enemy, but he had picked up the trail of the four peculiar strangers. It was clear that the members of the quartet were neither advanced in woodland skills, nor particularly adept at masking their travel.
Any advance scouts sent by a mighty power like the Unifier would be among the best culled from powerful realms. Such individuals would likely prove a challenge even to one as practiced and experienced as Gunther.
The woodsman had now been shadowing the quartet’s moves for a couple of leagues. Five of his Jaghuns had accompanied him on the hunting expedition, including the one that had first picked up the strangers’ trail. The huge creatures moved dexterously and nimbly alongside Gunther, with nary a sound.
It was fortunate for the strangers that Gunther held such a degree of control over the massive, highly intelligent creatures.
The group of strangers had been walking along the forest’s edge for most of the morning, but had just recently turned inward, striding deeper into the woodlands. While still a considerable distance away, Gunther knew that if the strangers kept to their current path that they would eventually come upon his secluded homestead.
Gunther could not assume that they would change directions. He knew that he would soon have to determine whether or not they were truly of the Unifier. The last thing that he wanted was the Unifier’s minion’s becoming aware of his homestead, especially in the context of an imminent invasion.
If the strangers were innocent of such an association, as a significant part of him suspected, then they would be free to go on their way with Gunther’s blessing. If not, then they would not be leaving the woods alive.
Gunther still clung to a faint hope that the affairs of the world at large would bypass his small nook within the woodlands. He was realistic enough to know that such a hope probably would not be justified.
Yet as long as he could do something to affect matters, he certainly would try to guide his fortunes.
Clad in earthy colors, with a knee-length woolen tunic, breeches with narrow lengths of gartering wound snugly about the lower legs from his leather shoes up to his knees, his appearance blended quite well with the shadowy forest environment. Gunther was quite proficient at melting into his surroundings, as well as being adept in not providing his intended quarry with any sign that he was approaching.
Gunther realized that a part of him did not entirely care if the newcomers were investigated or interceded for. He could allow them to amble right into the two Jaghuns currently back guarding his homestead. He knew that his Jaghuns and their bone-crushing jaw strength would make very short work of the four humans.
The stark honesty of the realization was a notion that immediately shamed him, because at one time Gunther knew that he would have sought to protect any creature of the All-Father from avoidable harm.
He had indeed become very hardened over the recent years.
After much travel, pain, and sorrows, he had finally gotten his wish to live the way that he wanted to. He was just over forty, in full health, and still in possession of a very capable body. He was a little slower in reflex and speed than in his youth, but was stronger, more experienced, and far more skilled.
He had fast become defensive towards any unwanted intrusions, discovering a higher degree of sensitivity within himself at each ensuing instance. Most of the occurrences had involved woodland stragglers, whose presence and motives in the sparsely inhabited wildlands were never above suspicion.
Discernment of strangers was becoming an ever greater challenge, as Gunther grew to be fiercely protective of his solitude.
The occasional outlaw or brigand, sometimes appearing in small groups, wandered into his territory. Darker intentions did not always match with courage, as they were easily driven far off from the area. Only a very few had been foolish enough to make a fight of it, and those ill-advised men had met with a very quick fate.
There were a few rare positive exchanges, including some occasional interactions with the men who served Aethelstan, a great thane in service to the Ealdorman Morcar of Wessachia. Aethelstan lived within the nearest burh, a fairly large one called Bergton that lay to the east of Gunther’s abode.
The men of Aethelstan, and the great thane himself, respected Gunther’s desire to live in peace. They also did not mind Gunther’s unceasing tendency to drive off any brigands or outlaws wishing to take up residence within the wilderness area.
As such, they had never tried to pressure him in any way to conform to the usual standards expected of most men. Gunther knew that he did not actually own the land that he lived upon, but it was wild forest, and he did inadvertently provide Aethelstan with a very effective watch close to some Wessachian villages.
Gunther had long ago surmised that Aethelstan had deemed the stalwart’s woodsman’s shunning of brigands and outlaws as a worthy contribution, in lieu of any other service or material obligation to the Kingdom of Saxany. The King’s reeve at Bergton, an honest enough of a fellow named Behrtwald, had never even paid Gunther one visit.
Gunther could also tell that Aethelstan’s men were entirely fascinated with the exotic Jaghuns that he raised. They were creatures native to the legendary Shadowlands, which lay far to the east, across oceans and other harrowing lands.
Like Ebba in Oak Crossing, the great thane’s men brought Gunther periodic news of the broader world. While remaining isolated, to the point of being fairly reclusive, Gunther was not completely disinterested in word about the happenings in the Kingdom of Saxany and realms beyond.
The larger world had been at the center of his life, up until his self-imposed exile to the woodlands in the Saxan province. Regardless of everything, he was wholeheartedly prepared to live out his life in those woods, with the company of nothing more than his small brood of loyal Jaghuns.
Despite his chosen way, Gunther knew deep within himself that he could not let fellow creatures of the All-Father become needlessly endangered. He still believed firmly that the day would come when he would have to account for his entire life with the Creator of all things.
On that momentous day, no excuses would suffice. Only what he had done, and the choices that he had made, would be weighed in the balance to see whether or not he had truly accepted Emmanu.
Gunther admonished himself harshly for his insular, selfish, and undeniably cruel inclinations, at least until he fully determined the allegiances of the four outsiders.
Even with a modicum of understanding, Gunther was confident that he could determine whose side they were truly on; that of the Unifier, or those that wished to be free in will.
Confrontation on some level was inevitable, but there were no concerns if it turned for the worse. He had five fully trained, matured Jaghuns with him. Furthermore, any of the Ealdormen or Counts in the Saxan Kingdom, even King Alcuin himself, would have given anything to have the martial skill of one such as Gunther in their service.
Gunther quietly kept stride with the group of strangers as he pondered the challenges of his situation.
It was then that a voice, like a soft breeze, came abruptly to his ears.
“Gunther, hold for a few moments. I would speak with you.”
Gunther spun around at the sudden words, raising his arm with sword in hand to defend himself. Only at the last instant did he hold back the blow that he was about to deliver.
Standing calmly before him, in long blue robes, was a tall, elderly man, with a bountiful white beard and a similarly snowy mass of hair.
His face was set into a warm smile. He looked out from under the broad brim of his low-crowned hat with one blue eye, which seemed to sparkle with an inner light. The old man showed absolutely no concern over the upheld sword that had barely been held back by Gunther, his right hand resting without any sign of tension upon a tall wooden staff.
“Stranger, you truly show yourself at the most unexpected times,” Gunther remarked curtly, not entirely amused at the sudden surprise.
He lowered his sword point, and slowly slid it back into the sheath affixed to his baldric.
Gunther could not stifle a chuckle, as two of his huge Jaghuns bounded right up to the old man. Standing idly, their broad heads came up above the man’s waist. They angled their wide, short muzzles upward to gaze expectantly into the old man’s face.
The corded muscle massed all around their jaws, thick necks, and shoulders gave evidence to the sheer, awesome power held within their devastating bite. Those massive jaws were now less than an arm’s length from the old man.
Yet there was no tension on the part of the Jaghuns, or unease on the part of the old man. It was as if they were simply old friends, and the old man smiled warmly as he reached down and gently patted both of the great beasts upon their heads, scratching them behind their dark ears as they wagged their medium-length tails briskly.
“They really do have a great affection for you, Wanderer. And I do trust their judgements,” Gunther said, shaking his head in wonder once again. “You are very unusual among those I have come across in this world, and you give little warning to your visits. We have spoken together a few times, and I find myself with more questions and fewer answers with every new encounter of you. I am certain that you will perplex me again before you depart.”
“I must confess that I am sometimes in a world unto myself, and perhaps should be more forthcoming,” the old man replied with a grin, seeming to almost laugh. “But then again, you are not the most sociable of men that I have encountered in my journeys, my reclusive woodland friend.
“Your point is conceded,” Gunther retorted, a smirk now upon his face.
“And I suppose that you were following the four newcomers too?” the old man then inquired of him. “They are unlike any within our world’s realms.”
“Yes, I was,” Gunther confirmed. “And it seems that you know of them as well, so perhaps you could tell me something more of these strangers. It would be much appreciated.”
The Wanderer smiled again. “Yes, I do. And I do know that they are not of the Adversary. You have nothing to concern yourself with about these four. As they are not of the Adversary, they are not of the Unifier either. Those Two are always of common purpose.”
“Your words are welcome to my ears, Wanderer,” Gunther replied. “I could not tell, as I cannot understand their very strange tongue. I have never heard a tongue such as they have… not in any of my travels.”
“They are from very far away, from lands that are far beyond those of your own experience and knowledge,” the Wanderer informed him. “But I can be of help to you this day. You will be able to understand their words with this.”
He reached into a pouch hanging from the leather belt secured about his robe, withdrawing his hand and extending a shaped pendant of blue stone set into metal, hanging from a long hide thong. The woodsman recognized the form of the pendant as that of a rune, the mystical lettering used by Midragardans.
Gunther accepted the necklace somewhat hesitantly, eyeing it closely, as he held it gingerly in his hand. For an instant, it was as if his mind had become hazy. The blue gemstone in the pendent was rich in hue, holding depths within that far exceeded its diminutive physical size.
“Do not worry yourself, this is not a device of the Unifier’s black arts,” the Wanderer calmly explained to him. “It is from me, and it will help you to understand their language, Gunther. With such as this, they will be able to understand you as well.”
Gunther slowly put on the necklace at the other’s bidding.
“If you only knew what I feel about amulets and powers. I have seen my fill of magic within this world,” Gunther responded somberly. He then eyed the Wanderer closely. “For me, the mystery is made clearer, with this gift. I have often wondered about your nature. You are no mere sorcerer. No sorcerer would travel these wildlands with such ease, or thwart the senses of my Jaghuns so capably.
“It leaves only one choice in my mind. You are a Wizard. Are you not?”
Gunther’s eyes narrowed with his final, declarative words, the last question taking on the tone of a direct challenge that demanded an answer.
The Wanderer grinned broadly, with a flare of evident amusement. “It is you who have said so.”
“I fear that I am not wrong in this guess,” Gunther replied, “It does not unsettle me, Wanderer. I know that if you bore me any ill intent, as a Wizard, I would have found out long ago.”
The Wanderer stepped forward, walking past Gunther. “No ill intent, to be certain. If anything, the opposite, woodsman. But this amulet will come of great use to you for the moment. I expect for you to give it to another very shortly. Let us not tarry further, indulging in speculations. Now come with me, and you will see that you understand the words of these strangers to our lands.”
Gunther, certainly no newcomer to the woodlands, had to hurry just to keep pace with the blue-robed man. He marveled at the incredible proficiency of the stranger, as even his Jaghuns lagged behind at first, and had to pick up their own gait to stay close to the long strides of the Wanderer.
In a very short amount of time, Gunther and the old man were close on the trail of the four humans. It was not much longer before they caught up to the woodland interlopers, who had by now come to a full stop.
The four humans were seated upon the surfaces of a couple of thick tree roots, radiating from an old oak tree. The roots that they were seated upon formed boundaries for a little patch of debris-strewn ground, and allowed two of the strangers to face the other two as they talked together.
Gunther and the Wanderer enjoyed the benefit of a steady rise in the ground from the area around the oak tree to a low ridgeline that allowed them to capably shield their own forms. They eased to the top of the ridgeline and looked down upon the four strangers. Talking amongst themselves, the strangers were still utterly inept at concealing their presence in the woods.
Gunther’s eyes widened, and he glanced down at the blue stone now resting against his chest.
Unlike the last time that he had heard the voices of the strangers, Gunther could now understand their words as if they were speaking the Saxan tongue with complete fluency. Astonished, he turned to comment to the Wanderer.
His breath caught abruptly in his throat.
There was absolutely no trace of the mysterious figure. It was as if the Wanderer had been just a figment of his imagination, were it not for the presence of three other amulets hanging just a couple of feet away from him, on the end of a nearby tree branch. They were siblings to the one looped about his own neck.
There was no question as to why there were four of the amulets in all, as Gunther reached out and quietly removed the other three suspended from the thin branch. The Wizard, for that was surely what the Wanderer was, intended for them to be given over to the four strangers.
The thought deeply disturbed Gunther. He was not one to trust the whims of Wizards, no matter how benevolent they appeared to be. The tales of them that he had heard in his life had been many. To his knowledge, he had not encountered any himself, with the exception of the elderly, blue-robed man. Furthermore, Wizards were commonly said to have withdrawn in recent ages from open involvement in the affairs of humankind.
There were sorcerers, many legendary, and others such as warlocks and witches, among the mortal race of mankind, but the Wizards were said to be something entirely different, and far more daunting. They were a race of immortals, ageless and powerful, and had been granted gifts unimaginable at the dawn of the world.
As one whose own life occupied a speck of history, Gunther could not begin to fathom the designs of a being such as a Wizard. He wished that the Wanderer would have stayed for a few moments longer, and had not departed before giving Gunther the four amulets.
Gunther wanted to ask the Wanderer exactly why he had entrusted the amulets to Gunther, and why the Wizard had such an interest in the four strangers now gathered just a handful of paces away from the woodsman. Gunther doubted that he would have received any satisfactory answers if he had gotten a chance to ask the questions. If the Wizard had even chosen to respond, his words would have been layered in ambiguities.
Yet at the same time, all of Gunther’s encounters leading up to, and including, his current one might be an answer in themselves. The encounters could very well indicate that the Wizards were returning to involve themselves in the affairs of the world once again. If that were true, the implications were ominous, as it was highly likely that only a great reason would draw the Wizards forth.
Gunther shook his head with a rueful grin, remembering his past experiences with the old man. At the very least, he would have to remember to thank the Wanderer for his own amulet, the next time that Gunther encountered him. He already understood and appreciated its tremendous value.
Quietly, he settled himself into a more comfortable position, watching the four strangers with a renewed interest, their words no longer an obstacle. His Jaghuns were pressed in close around him, crouched down and silently awaiting their master’s next command.
His full attention honed in upon the four strangers as he listened to their next words. It did not take very long for him to discover that they were almost certainly not servants of the Unifier, and that they were in the midst of a very dire plight.
He listened carefully to their conversation. From what he was able to ascertain, they were traveling without a specific destination in mind, and were hoping to cross paths with anyone that might be able to help them. Fear, frustration, and anxiety were all present just underneath their words, heavily betrayed by their nervous tones.
The shorter, older man appeared to be the leader of the quartet, or at least the most respected.
He had the narrow, tilted eyes and yellowish skin tones like the exotic humans that lived in the lands far to the east, in realms even farther away than the Shadowlands, across many vast lands and great bodies of water.
He had seen a precious few such men within the palace grounds of Theonium, as a result of the risky, lengthy caravan journeys that traversed the Rising Sun Road, bearing loads of spices and silks. The sight of such a man within the woods of Saxany both fascinated and highly intrigued Gunther.
The younger lad, a bit gawky in his maturing body, seemed to be close in alliance to the leader. Gunther could tell from the youth’s direct, hardened glances that the younger male held little regard, and likely contempt, for one of the others. The person holding his ire was a young woman with dark hair that had reddish streaks within it, as if dyed.
That particular female was now sitting a little distance off from the rest, having shifted to another root a bit farther back. A sullen expression crouched upon her face, and she rarely met eyes with any of the others in the group.
The final member of the party, a woman of similar age to the other female, seemed to be very attentive to what the two men were saying. Her body language and expressions towards the other woman needed little translation. Gunther could see plainly that she was disgusted with the behavior of the brooding female.
Making a subtle call, indistinguishable from a bird of the forest, he summoned one of his Jaghuns over. The great beast crept up silently on its huge paws to Gunther, its massive head looming just over its human patron and friend.
“Creator’s Children,” Gunther said in a whisper, gesturing with emphasis towards the four strangers. “Surround.”
Nostrils flaring, the Jaghun took in a long draught of scents out of the air, as it regarded the four strangers with an intense, keen gaze.
Suddenly, the Jaghun turned its great head, and roughly licked Gunther on the side of his face, before slowly backing up some distance away. Gunther almost smiled at the spontaneous gesture, but his focus stayed rigidly fixed. Well behind the ridge, the Jaghun rose and loped off into the woods upon its long, muscular legs.
Gunther called another Jaghun over, using a different call. He then gave it the same commands as the first, and sent it onward to join the other.
Gunther kept to his advantageous position. He used three more distinctive calls to bring the remaining Jaghuns in, and uttered the “Creator’s Children” command to each as they drew near.
The commands that Gunther had given the large beasts would be welcome news to the strangers, if they knew and understood the potential danger that the woodsman had just abrogated.
Gunther did not plan to lose sight of the strangers until some mysteries were solved, but the precaution settled his mind. He did not want to see his Jaghuns beset the four strangers unless he was convinced that there was a definite reason. Neither did he want to extend them any chance of escape if they turned out to be something darker in nature.
There was no need to rush anything, especially now that he could understand the strangers’ speech. Gunther chose to continue observing and tracking the humans for the time being, to see what he could learn. In addition to scrutinizing the four humans, Gunther could also keep a benevolent watch set over them.
There was no mistake that they were vulnerable. The longer that he watched them, the more that he was becoming utterly convinced that they were wholly unprepared for a woodland environment.