*
A pair of rather uneventful days had passed on the small island since Eirik, Ayenwatha, and the others had left upon the incredible, wolf-like sky steeds. The seven exiles were patiently awaiting the arrival of a pair of Midragardan longships, which were to take them to Midragard itself. The ships were said to be coming from the north, and that was the direction in which their eyes were often turned, in hopeful anticipation.
Janus largely kept to himself as they waited for the expected longships. He found himself often walking down to the water’s edge and looking out to sea, staring off towards the empty horizon. More than once he believed that he saw something in the distance, only to discover that there was nothing approaching the island. Whether the occasional sights were mirages or something of substance, they were certainly not what he was looking for.
With Ayenwatha and the tribal warriors gone, what little familiarity Janus had with the new world had been carried off on the wings of the Fenraren. A decline in familiarity was one of the last things that he needed at the moment, feeling alone enough as it was.
Janus’ vigil at the shore’s edge was not necessary in a practical sense. Their Midragardan hosts were keeping up a diligent watch on the sea’s horizon. Janus could sense the rising tension within the homestead, ever since the departure of Eirik, Ayenwatha, and the others. It was never openly spoken of, but was plainly written on the faces of every man and woman, and those of many of the homestead’s older children.
At long last, on the third day after Ayenwatha had left, a great commotion was raised within the homestead. Janus had already espied the source of the excitement, a little before anyone else had.
The shapes had taken form on the edge of the horizon, moving steadily towards the settlement. They were not illusions, but rather were objects rooted in solidity. Gradually, the forms had grown more distinct, and Janus knew from their outline that they were the promised longships.
Cutting through the waters, each was narrow of body, with single masts rising high, and square sails unfurled; unquestionably Midragardan.
Running back hurriedly towards the settlement from the shoreline, Janus quickly found Erika, where she was sitting and conversing with Mershad. They both leaped up in initial alarm at his hurried approach, and he swiftly related the news to them.
It was about that moment that the air was filled with the cries of Midragardans who had finally spotted the incoming vessels. Janus, Erika, and Mershad proceeded immediately to gather the others in their group. They led them without delay down to the shoreline, to await the arrival of the longships. By the time they all stood upon the edge of the ocean waters, the longships had drawn much closer on the power of their oars.
The square woolen sails of the vessels had been furled since Janus had first sighted the ships, no longer needed, as the longships glided towards berths on the shore. One of the longships had twenty oars on each side, and the second one was a slightly longer vessel, with twenty-five oars per side. Round shields were lined up in colorful arrays, set in battens running down the sides of each of the ships, just outside their top strakes.
Their oars rowed in steady unison as the ships pulled ever nearer, dipping and pulling through the water in rhythmic harmony. The men manning the broad-bladed steering oars, affixed to the starboard side of the stern, made a few adjustments as the crews maneuvered the two vessels up towards the beach.
The narrow ships sliced so effortlessly through the waters, cleaving the surface like great, sea-borne blades. Their low draught enabled the Midragardans to bring the graceful, elegant galleys right up onto the beach itself, with little difficulty.
A number of people from the settlement had gathered with Janus and the other exiles to greet the two ships right at the water’s edge. Several of them stepped forward to help the crew of the vessels, as the latter hopped down over the sides of the longships. The men from the ships splashed down into the shallow waters, moving to join the volunteers from the settlement as they all found grips along the ships’ strakes, pushing and dragging the vessels up more securely onto the land.
Once the vessels were brought to a full halt upon solid ground, spirited greetings were made, and long gangway planks were lowered at their sides. It was abundantly clear that the Midragardans from the ships were not there for any extended visit, as they immediately set about restocking their provisions. Chests and sacks were removed from the ships, while replacements were soon being carried aboard, with the help of several men from the homestead.
There was an undercurrent of urgency to the crewmen’s movements. It was apparent that the men from the ships did not wish to waste even a moment more than was necessary to gain additional supplies for the resumption of their voyage. Their anxious demeanors unnerved Janus more than a little, as he knew that the Midragardans were not the kind of people who were easily distressed.
Janus and his companions stood idly nearby at first, trying to stay out of the way of the stream of individuals involved in loading supplies onto the pair of ships. As he waited, he gazed upon the remarkable vessels, finding that he was becoming more familiarized with their attributes.
Averaging around sixty to seventy feet in length, the vessels were both warships. In the bow, they each featured an intricately carved prow, employing a thematic design that rose up and outward from the forefront of the ships. One ship’s prow was fashioned with the snarling visage of a wolf, and the other displayed a roaring dragon. The designs were echoed in the ornamentation of the sterns, providing appropriate tails for the creatures whose motifs graced the ships.
The hulls did not go very deep, constructed out of thin, horizontal planks of wood that overlapped downwards. Their main decking was comprised of loose timber planking, spanning between small, raised platforms at stern and bow.
They were both ships that had been designed efficiently for speed. The sleek forms had been expertly honed and crafted, reflecting the kind of workmanship developed over long years, spent by multitudes of seafarers traversing both ocean and river. As Janus could plainly see, the most formidable aspect of the ships’ design was the fact that they were usable in either river or ocean settings, lending their crews an advantageous level of flexibility not afforded to vessels confined to just one type of water environment.
Despite his interest in the details of the longships, soon Janus had become very uncomfortable standing around and watching all of the Midragardans laboring. He could see the fidgety signs of growing discomfort reflected in his companions as well.
Erika caught Janus’ eyes, her eyes narrowing as she asked him, “What’s wrong?”
“Couldn’t we help them? With the loading, that is,” Janus asked. “We’re healthy and rested enough, and they look like they are in a real hurry. We’re not doing much else right now.”
“Only one way to find out,” Erika responded with a shrug, and a slight grin.
She approached one of Eirik’s warriors, an affable fellow who had been left behind to accompany the exiles on their sea journey. She stopped him before he could pick up a cask that had been carried down to the shore by another man. Once she had the warrior’s attention, she inquired as to whether the exiles could help out with the loading of the ships.
The warrior readily agreed to her proposal, and none of the other Midragrdans nearby seemed opposed to the offer of help either. Within moments, Janus and the others were busy loading wooden chests, sacks, and barrels onto the ships.
Janus was eminently glad for the physical activity, as the labor gave him a welcome distraction from everything else that was plaguing his mind. He lugged a chest, trudging slowly up the wooden gangway from the beach to the ship. It was a tedious effort, and he felt the tautness in his arms and back as he slogged up the plank to the body of the ship.
Once aboard, Janus got a better look at the longship’s two small raised decks, as well as the loose, lower deck planking arrayed in between them, running most of the length of the ship. There were no benches on the flat lower decking. After making an inquiry of one of the ship’s crew, Janus learned that those rowing used the type of chests that he was carrying to sit upon when working the oars. They were perfectly sized for the position of the oar ports that ran down the ship’s sides at regular intervals. As the ports were not in use, circular, timber coverings affixed to the strakes slid down to close off the openings.
The seven exiles gradually settled into a sustained period of activity, one born of muscle and sweat. Janus assisted Logan in bringing a heavy barrel full of ale aboard, which he quickly found to be quite a laborious task.
Janus listened casually, as Logan began to strike up conversations with some of the Midragardans that had arrived with the two vessels. Logan was indulging his curiosities about the backgrounds of the ships that they were loading, and their crews, but Janus was most interested in the discourse as it revealed several new things about their Midragardan patrons, and Ave itself.
The Midragardans talked about the journeys that they had been about to undertake, just before they were diverted to bring the exiles back to Midragard. They spoke of a land called Kiruva, an extensive realm located to the east that had been their ultimate trading destination. They described it as a land of innumerable rivers, great forests, and vast, open steppes.
The Midragardans had been looking forward to reaching a large town or city there called Novgrad, in which a special section had been designated as quarters for Midragardan merchants. The men had evidently been looking forward to bringing back a good quantity of silver from the new season’s trading, a hope that was now placed in jeopardy due to their summons to convey the exiles to Midragard.
Yet despite the potential loss of trade, the men apparently had not been relishing the long river journey necessary to reach Novgrad. As Logan pressed them for more details, the men commented that the trek to the Kiruvan town would involve making it through at least one portage site.
The traders described how they would have to disembark the vessels at such locations, and take their ships over a short stretch of land to bypass violent, rocky stretches of the river, which were too dangerous to navigate. Rolling galleys across a series of logs that were shuffled constantly from the rear to the front, they would methodically bring the vessels across the solid ground, to where they could place them back in the water.
The men also appeared to be highly relieved that they were not going to be putting the vessels into shore to visit a particular man who lived in the eastern region of an island realm called Gael.
Janus quickly grew very fascinated with Gael, as one of the men lamented, “Who knows what is in the waters near there? Whether it is the islands with the water horses that are on the way… or the seal people and the fish people in the waters just off the coasts of Gael… nothing is what it seems in those lands. You would find few human women as fair as some among the strange creatures that live in those lands and waters. The foolhardy man has often learned the truths of such beings, far too late.
“It is no wonder that the people of that land are so devout in their religion, and fierce in their devotion to their kin. There is so much that can deceive them and bring them to ruin. Great beauty is perilous, and even the fairy folk that dwell within Gael can be very wicked.”
A thousand questions and curiosities rushed into Janus’ mind, but he kept his thoughts silent, and contented himself with listening to the ongoing conversations.
As Janus and Logan went with the men to retrieve a few more casks, the Midragardans spoke in hushed tones of a fearsome, wailing female spirit that they had come perilously close to encountering on their last sojourn to the lands of Gael. The demonic entity evidently inhabited a boggy area situated uncomfortably close to a crannog, which by their description appeared to be a fortified homestead of some sort, in which the Gael man that regularly traded with the Midragardans resided. It was very clear that the men believed that they would have met with certain death had they simply set their eyes upon the spectral entity.
Seeing the fear openly reflected in the hardy Midragardan men, during their discussion of the dark spirit haunting the bog land, Janus hoped that he would never have the ill fortune of personally encountering such a malevolent, supernatural being. It was certainly not very comforting to learn of the worrisome reality that such beings existed in the world that Janus inhabited.
Listening to all of their incredible stories, it seemed that the time would pass quickly enough, until they were finally ready to set off on their way to Midragard. They were almost finished loading the ships, when an unwelcome disturbance occurred.
An agitated murmur arose suddenly among the Midragardans, soon turning into clamorous outcries of distress and warning. The seven exiles, and those loading the boats, stopped what they were doing immediately. Janus and the others, exile and Midragardan alike, followed the frantic gestures of an old man who was looking out towards the sea, with a very distraught expression on his face.
“Enemies! They are coming!” the older man cried out in a raspy, fearful voice. “We must move inland! Now! It is an enemy that approaches!”
The words buffeted like an icy, biting wind, freezing Janus’ blood. He and the others standing in the middle of the longship’s deck looked out to sea, where they beheld several more shapes approaching the shore across the waters.
The outlines were unmistakably different from those of the longships, though they were rowed galleys. The oncoming vessels were formed into a broad line.
The differences in the approaching galleys manifested more clearly as they drew closer. The galleys were two-masted, fitted with very lengthy yards from which great lateen sails were suspended. The masts were each crowned with small lookout nests.
Banners of blue and gold flapped from the bows and sterns of the vessels. Shields with surface ornamentation similar to the image on the banners were also positioned at the front and rear of the ships.
The bow of each galley featured a broad forecastle, with timber railing around the sides. Upon the raised platform, a number of archers and crossbowmen were gathered, weapons at the ready. A great spur projected from the front of the ship, carried above the waterline like the end of a menacing spear.
Though low to the water, the galleys were a little higher than the Midragardan ships, as well as being broader of beam. Staggered pairs of long oars ran down the length of the galleys, with over twenty-five such pairs per side.
The sterns of the galleys were fitted with another railed, raised platform. As with the forecastle, throngs of warriors arrayed for battle were situated on their surfaces.
Even more daunting, the line of rowed galleys were not the only vessels approaching the shoreline. Coming up just behind the galleys were a couple of slower-moving, round-bodied sailing vessels. The ships were much broader of beam, with a freeboard far exceeding that of the low-draught galleys. High platforms with battlement-like enclosures of wood had been affixed near bow and stern on the sailing ships, bristling with armed men. The sailing vessels carried banners and pennons that matched those upon the galleys.
Janus knew that there would not be much more time before the first of the oncoming ships drew near to the shoreline. A sense of grave danger flooded the air, washing over exile and Midragardan alike.
“We cannot take to the water,” a younger Midragardan warrior shouted out from the deck of the other prone longship. He moved over and lifted up one of the round shields from its resting place along the outer railing. “Those ships fly the symbol of Avanor. We must move fast. We…”
The young man’s words were suddenly cut off by an arrow that embedded itself deeply into his chest, fired from the direction of the beach. The warrior pitched over the side of the longship and fell onto the shore, at the water’s edge, as an incoming wave lapped across his body.
Janus turned swiftly, just as a large number of fearsome-looking creatures burst out into the open. They charged towards the shore, pouring forth from amongst the buildings of the Midragardan homestead.
The creatures wielded long, sword-like weapons, great spears, and lengthy two-handed war implements, fitted with elongated, single edged blades. Those with the sword-like weapons carried rectangular shields. Some had their heads bared, several wore what looked to be protective cap-helms of boiled leather, while one or two of the bestial figures exhibited rounded, iron half-helms.
Janus was thunderstruck by their fierce visages, which were locked into feral, snarling masks of battle fury, as they bore down upon the Midragardans.
Janus, Logan, Antonio, and Erika dived for cover along the deck of the longship. They all began to reach around in desperation, for anything that they could use as a weapon, as Janus listened to the throaty, guttural war cries of the attackers drawing closer.
Janus caught a brief glimpse of Mershad, Derek, and Kent as he peeked over the top strake of the longship to assess the enemy’s positions. The three had just been about to retrieve some chests along the shore to take aboard the ships, and were now forced to scramble away from the onslaught. Janus watched anxiously as the three raced towards the body of the second longship. They disappeared from view a moment later, maneuvering behind the farther side of the other vessel.
The Midragardans had been taken completely by surprise, and few were armed for conflict at the outset of the fight. They grabbed at whatever they could to defend themselves, some using tools, and a few others fortunate enough to be near weapons such as axes, swords, or spears. Others finding themselves more isolated quickly grasped the hilts of the single-edged knives sheathed at their waists.
There was no hint of surrender within the air, and as Janus looked out it appeared as if the entire homestead was girding to fight back with everything they had. Everyone, young and old alike, man or woman, strove to defend themselves, with the lone exception being the smallest of children.
The tall, burly beast-men reached the shore area and set upon the Midragardans ravenously, hacking, stabbing, and slashing at all within their reach. More arrows, coming from some of their comrades that had climbed up onto the thatch roofs of the timber buildings, continued to find targets within the growing melee.
Janus gnashed his teeth in helpless rage, as he saw one of the dog-faced entities pull a longbow back, and let a black-shafted arrow fly to pierce an old Midragardan man through the neck. The man’s eyes widened in desperation as he gurgled and gasped. He clutched at the arrow shaft in a vain attempt to stem the outflow of life-giving blood, before falling over at last.
Janus had spent over an hour alone with that very same old man, just the previous day, listening to some fascinating tales of Midragardan lore. The man was an old thrall, soft-spoken and kind-hearted, and in no way did he deserve such a brutal end.
A new round of furious cries arose from the combatants on both sides, as the first clashes of steel ripped through the air. It was almost impossible to imagine the pervading tranquility that had existed mere minutes before.
From the deck of the first ship, Janus shifted his position, and slid up the covering to peer through one of the oar holes spaced between two shields set in the outer pine-batten. The fighting among the two larger, beached longships was erupting at a furious pace, as more and more combatants were brought together in the deadly clash.
The Midragardans were responding strongly, having recovered from the initial shock of the unexpected attack. Several of the more experienced warriors among them had been able to reach their weapons by now, and they were fighting back with a vengeful fury.
An abrupt, heavy thudding noise just behind Janus caused him to whirl about. A huge beast-warrior had jumped aboard the ship. It did not hesitate for a moment, bearing down upon Janus with a look of unfettered malice.
The snarling creature had one of the imposing, two-handed weapons, like an axe, lance, and sword fused together, raised over its head, corded muscle bulging throughout its arms. Both of its massive, dark hands gripped the elongated haft, from which the heavy, lengthy, single-edged blade extended. The fearsome weapon was poised to crash down upon Janus’ exposed head.
Even though the gesture seemed entirely futile, Janus brought up a small hammer, of the kind that would have normally been used to strike a chisel for wood-carving. He moved to swing it at the knees of his powerful assailant, the only action that came to his mind in the split-second of time left to him.
Before the heavy steel blade could be brought down to bear upon him, a very large dog or wolf slammed into the beast-man from the side. The brawny warrior tumbled down onto the deck several feet away, knocked entirely off its feet. The inhuman figure cried out in rage at the interference, teeth bared in a particularly rabid expression that froze Janus’ breath in his lungs. It twirled about with astonishing litheness to get back on its feet and meet its attacker.
Janus caught the deep gaze of the wolf-like dog for only a moment, as its penetrating, golden stare caught his eyes. The dog had not continued its attack upon the Trogen, instead remaining close to Janus. Without a sound, it bounded fluidly towards the side of the ship, leaping high over the top to disappear from sight.
There was no time to indulge any curiosities, or even pause to consider the bizarre intervention. The enemy creature was on its feet with its imposing weapon in hand, its eyes exuding a murderous intent.
Janus crawled, scrabbled, and lunged hurriedly for the bow of the boat, doing everything that he could to reach Erika while keeping his body below the top strakes of the vessel. She was crouched down, holding tightly onto a spear that she had retrieved from the equipment brought aboard the longship. He glanced back for any sign of the strange dog, but there was nothing to be seen of his canine savior.
The beast-warrior had its sights set squarely upon the two of them. The enemy warrior shook with rage, its powerful muscles flexing and bulging with its tightening grip upon the shaft of its great weapon. Janus felt lightheaded, as he saw the sharp canines now openly bared towards him, set just forward of a baleful gaze. The enemy warrior tramped resolutely forward across the decking of the longship, its heavy steps thumping on the wooden surface.
Janus stayed with Erika as they held their ground, for there were no good options left. Janus gripped the iron-headed hammer, while Erika clutched her spear. The beast-man strode rapidly down the length of the deck, readying its great, heavy blade to strike.
Using every bit of her might, Erika suddenly lunged forward and thrust the spear outward. Seeing her fast, desperate move, Janus reacted by hurling himself low, swinging the hammer at the creature’s knees with all of the strength that he could muster.
The hammer and spear attacks both met with success, catching the creature by complete surprise. The warrior emitted an angered, pained cry as it stumbled forward. The spear was lodged deep in its unprotected throat, blood draining in rivulets down the leather jerkin covering its upper body. Its broken knee, having caught the full force of the hammer blow, caused the creature to buckle and topple onto the deck.
Neither Erika nor Janus paused to regard the success or failure of their first strikes. As Erika pulled the spear free, and stabbed again, Janus moved upward and pounded the hammer down into the face of the beast-man. The two of them did not cease, raining successive blows upon the creature’s body, even after it became still and unresponsive to their attacks.
Pulling the spear free from her last stab, Erika straightened up, and looked out to the shore. “The enemy galleys are nearing the land now,” she reported, a wide, anxious look in her eye.
Janus listened to her words with his heart beating fast from the adrenaline coursing throughout him. He gripped the hammer tightly, his hand shaking, now finished with his grisly task.
Janus followed her gaze and saw that the incoming ships were now indeed very close to the shore. Their decks were filled with armed human warriors, all of whom looked eager to join the fray. Fore and aft platforms in the galleys were packed with archers and crossbowmen. With an elevated position to fire their missiles from, they trained their sights on various targets. Janus knew in his heart that the situation was worsening rapidly.
“What do you say we should do?” Janus asked Erika, casting her a brief glance.
Erika met his gaze, and looked back out to the water. “We must get to the others. Where are Antonio and Logan?”
Janus looked around frantically. He saw the other two at the far end of the longship, where they were slashing and hacking with short-hafted hand axes at a couple of beast-warriors that were trying to climb over the sides of the ship.
“Antonio, Logan!” Janus called, attracting their attention. “Get over here now!”
The other two, their eyes reflecting fear and a heightened state of alertness, kept low as they hurriedly crawled across the deck towards Janus and Erika. An arrow sank into the wood close to Logan’s head, just as the two men passed the mid-point of the ship. It was a very narrow miss, making Janus’ breath catch in his throat.
Logan cast a furtive glance at the lodged arrow, as he spurred himself forward more quickly. Antonio hustled in Logan’s wake, having also taken note of his friend’s close call.
“We have to try and get to the others,” Erika said, peering cautiously over the sides of the vessel again. She then added, with a sharp look of worry, “Once we can find them.”
At that moment, a few Midragardans clamored up over the sides towards the middle of the ship. Janus felt the longship lurch and begin to move, as it was pushed into the water. The haggard warriors were all armed well, with spears, swords, and one who bore a great two-handed axe, which had a prominent, downward-extended blade, cut to a flat edge at its lower extremity.
“To the water! The water!” a loud cry came from a stout warrior at the center of the longship. “Get this ship out there! Hurry! We must run for it! With all speed!”
The men tensed momentarily, as their eyes fell upon Janus and his other three companions, but the Midragardans immediately relaxed their postures as they recognized the four exiles.
“We have others on the shore still!” Erika cried out to them, as the boat was pushed further out into the water.
Most did not seem to hear her, as the Midragardans were lending their hands to help several others climb aboard the vessel.
“We are not going back!” the stout warrior cried out emphatically, as the others grabbed up oars from where they lay upon t-shaped racks, rapidly situating themselves along the sides of the ship. Chests scraped upon the planks and thudded as they were hurriedly moved into place.
The ship started to glide out into the sea. At the burly warrior’s orders, the oars were set down to the water.
Erika ran to the apparent leader of the Midragardans, as Janus hurried up behind her. Her tone was adamant, as she shouted. “We must go back!”
“No!” he roared back at her, equally forceful, as the ship pulled away from the shore.
“Tryggvi, enemy galleys are bearing down upon us!” cried another of the warriors, looking out as he pulled back on his oar.
Erika, Janus, and Tryggvi looked out to sea, where a large enemy galley was rushing towards them, parting the waters as it was propelled forward by a full complement of rowers. It was swiftly closing the distance between the ships, drawing nearer with every passing second.
Tryggvi cursed loudly at the development. “If we had a full crew, we might have had a chance to outrun her… Crew or not, we must try anyway!”
Janus looked back out towards the oncoming galley. He could see a throng of archers and crossbowmen readying themselves at the bow to loose their missiles at the longship. The galley was higher of freeboard than was the Midragardan vessel, rising out of the water to a height that allowed the forecastle at the bow to have an open, unobstructed shot at any occupants of the longship. There was not a place on the longship that would not be reachable by the impending enemy volley.
Erika looked back to Janus, and he saw the unmistakable fear in her eyes. Yet the fear did not freeze her to inaction, as she turned and called back to Logan and Antonio. She urged everyone to pull up a shield from where they were set along the timber railing on the side of the ship.
In their desperation, they did not question Erika, not even the caustic Logan. The two men each yanked a shield free from the outer rack. Antonio’s trembling hands dropped the first one that he grabbed, and it splashed into the water. He immediately grabbed for another, and was more careful with the second one as he lifted it free.
“What do you have in mind?” Janus asked her, also following her directive, as he heaved a shield up and free from the outer rail.
The large wooden shield was fairly heavy. Janus grabbed onto the short iron bar set in the back of the small, dome-like protrusion of iron that was fitted in the shield’s center.
“We need to make a wall of shields, if we want to live!” Erika responded, loudly enough for all to hear her. “Follow me now!”
Having lifted a shield free for herself, she broke into a run towards the stern. Janus followed close behind her, as the others converged with them. He listened to her rapid instructions regarding the idea that she had.
With their backs turned to the raised deck at the longship’s stern, they proceeded to huddle together, allowing the round shields to overlap in front of them, forming a protective wall. Scant moments later they heard anxious cries from the men on the ship, as the horrific hiss of arrows and bolts filled the air.
More than once, Janus’ body was jolted as missiles slammed into the thick wood planking of the shield. Two arrows and a bolt burrowed solidly into the shield, as splinters and small chunks of wood flew free. He flinched as an arrow deflected off the iron boss of Erika’s shield.
The sickening sound of shafts piercing clothing, flesh, bone, and muscle carried to his ears, an eerie sound that Janus would not soon forget. What in reality took just mere seconds to pass seemed like a timeless gulf to Janus, as the missiles loosed from the enemy galley raked through the entire length of the longship. The screams from the Midragardan warriors were soon transformed into ebbing moans and rasps of death, as the torrents of arrows and bolts finally ceased.
A number of strange voices grew louder, as Janus and the others remained behind their makeshift wall of round shields. A tremendous force then shook the longship, as the two galleys impacted. In the aftermath of the collision, there was a great outcry proclaiming “With the Hand of God!” from the assaulting galley.
It was like having a herald at the cusp of an avalanche. The longship rocked violently, as many attackers jumped aboard the undermanned ship. A cascade of tremors passed through the longship, as numerous feet continued to heavily strike the deck.
The sounds of a furious, desperate fight erupted at the other end of the ship. There were several cries, thuds, clangs of steel, and splashes, but in a few moments the surface of the deck fell into a numbing silence.
“Come out from behind the shields. The rest are dead, and we can kill you easily enough, if we want to,” announced a gruff voice, outside the cluster of shields.
Janus heard a number of weighty footsteps approaching them slowly, striding down the length of the deck. He decided to lower his shield slightly. With nowhere to run, he felt resigned, and a strange calm fell over him as he knew that fate would have to take its course.
A number of armed men stood on the deck of the vessel, weapons in hand, and squared towards them. Many wore mail and half-helms, bearing an assortment of spears, swords, and short-hafted axes.
Others, primarily archers and crossbowmen, wore no armor, and had just cloth caps upon their heads. Several drawn bows and crossbows were trained upon Janus and his companions, both from the main deck and the high platform at the bow of the other ship.
As his gaze swept the ship, Janus saw that there was not a single Midragardan warrior left alive. Many bloodied bodies were strewn about the deck, exhibiting gruesome-looking wounds. The Midragardans had evidently acquitted themselves well in the short, furious fighting, as the casualties in view reflected both sides about evenly.
The warriors that had boarded the longship had distinctive accents, and were notably clean-shaven. Their demeanors appeared hard and unforgiving, and there was little doubt that they would have few misgivings about slaying Janus and the others, if provoked. The heightened tension was unyielding, as Janus waited to see what would happen.
“These appear to be foreign,” a deep voice pronounced.
The speaker was a man who looked to be a more prominent warrior among the group, with a hauberk of mail over a padded gambeson. The end of a long blue tunic poked out from beneath the protective attire, richly embroidered. The circular pommel of a sword surmounted the scabbard at his waist. Mail mittens hung loosely back from his exposed right hand, which rested on the hilt of the sword. His other hand held up a broad-topped kite shield, whose half-yellow and half-blue facing was crossed by banded iron strips, the latter arranged like a radiating star. A full iron face mask, with a bluish hue, extended down from the brow of a yellow, round half-helm. The warrior carried himself with a straight, authoritative posture that set him apart from the men around him.
“Your barbaric allies have been defeated, look upon their destruction yourselves,” the figure chided them in an icy tone. Though he could not see the warrior’s eyes, Janus keenly felt the weight of the man’s stare.
At that moment, a low, gurgling cough broke out from one of the seemingly dead Midragardan warriors close to Janus’ group. The man had no less than three arrow shafts sticking out of his body.
Swiftly, the warrior with the iron face mask drew his sword, and slashed it downward with great violence upon the dying Midragardan. Blood spraying into the air by the sheer force of the blow spattered onto the mask of his helm. The warrior turned his head back towards Janus and his companions, a single drop of blood dripping down off the edge of his face mask, and falling to the deck.
“Such is the cost of resisting the will of the Unifier,” the leader continued in his chilly tone. “And it might be the price you may yet pay.”
He turned away, facing towards a few men to his immediate right. He addressed them in a commanding tone. “Take these prisoners by sky steed back to the fleet, and deliver them into the hands of Bohemond. While they are here, they are under my ward, and are not to be harmed. As for the rest, do with them as you wish.”
“Understood, Lord William,” replied one of the other warriors.
Erika, whose eyes remained fixed upon Lord William, was mercifully spared the unfettered lust within the eyes of a few nearby warriors. Disappointment came to their faces, as their nascent plans for her were plainly thwarted by the leader’s command. Janus had not missed the salacious expressions, and a burning anger flared within him. He could only hope that she kept her eyes averted.
Having received the leader’s approval, several warriors set at once to looting the fallen Midragardans of their weapons, rings, arm bands, pendants, and anything else of value that they had on their bodies. Janus closed his eyes to the brazen violations of the courageous, fallen warriors, hating each and every moment that he was made to endure the disrespectful ordeal.
While several crossbows and bows remained fixed upon the prisoners, a few of the other warriors strode forward. Unceremoniously, using narrow rope, they proceeded to bind the captives’ hands behind their backs. There was little use in resisting, as Janus and his companions were surrounded on the captured longship, with skillfully managed arrows and bolts trained upon them. With rough force, the prisoners were then shoved and jostled forward. Hands clutched them, and it was difficult to keep their feet under them as they were nearly dragged onto the other galley.
Janus felt a host of stares as they were herded towards the stern of the galley. They were guided to the aft-castle, and up a flight of timber steps onto its surface.
“Do as I say… an we ‘av no troubles,” one of their captors, a dark eyed, leathery-skinned man told them. “You ‘av done well so far. Lord William’s sword did not have to drink your blood. Don’t give my dagger reason to.”
Nearby was a wiry-looking man, whose deep-set, cold eyes peered out from an elongated face, one that Janus found was not altogether unlike that of a large rodent. The lean man regarded Logan with a haughty expression, verging on a sneer. He stuck the tip of his spear close to Logan’s face, letting the point lightly scratch his skin. To his credit, Logan remained firmly in place, doing nothing to provoke the man.
“Do not much like the looks of this ‘un. Think of somethin’ ya want to try, lad. Go ahead. Do it,” the slender warrior hissed at Logan, clearly inviting him to lose his composure.
The smile that then spread across the warrior’s face was devoid of any speck of kindness, instead hinting at a hungry desire for cruelty. Janus did not want to know what kind of thoughts had conjured the icy expression.
Still another warrior, a medium-sized man with a bulbous nose, drew a dagger, and traced a short cut down the front of Erika’s clothes. “Were it not for Lord William, I could think of somethin’ to try with this one.”
The staccato cackle of the cold-eyed man, and the unsettling chortle of the leathery-skinned one, joined the thicker-set one’s raspy laughter.
“Try it then,” Erika retorted through clenched teeth, her eyes casting daggers, unable to withhold her fury.
Her lips trembled with pulsating anger, and Janus instantly feared for her. He tensed, ready to throw caution to the wind to intervene on her behalf. There was not much he could do with his hands tied behind his back, but he was not going to stand by if the degenerate men threatened harm to her.
The face of the man with the dagger grew taut with visible rage, though he was not able to keep his eyes level with her molten stare.
“Leave them alone. They are the wards of Lord William. You had ears to hear,” interjected another voice, carrying the power of authority within its confident timbre.
With a small nose, large round cheeks, and a weak chin, he did not look nearly as intimidating in appearance as the other three men. Though wearing no helm at the moment, he was dressed in a similar fashion to Lord William. He had full length mail sleeves, with mail mittens hanging at the end, and a blue surcoat worn over a mail-coat and padded gambeson. He was a little shorter and narrower of shoulder than Lord William had been, but he carried the same kind of resolute posture.
Despite his non-threatening demeanor, the three other men ceased their harassment immediately. They quickly backed away from their taunting of the prisoners, keeping their eyes lowered and clearing the way for the newcomer to approach.
“My name is Robert of Mirar, liege knight to Lord William, of the Viscounty of Talais, in the Duchy of Avanor,” he said calmly, curiosity evident within his eyes. He spoke with a formal air, one that was much more fluid and articulate than the rougher manner of the warriors that had deferred to him. “Here is my advice to you, and I suggest that you heed it faithfully. Cooperation will be the best course for your well-being. If you cooperate, I will make sure no harm comes to you. Simple enough?”
He slowly regarded the men around him, and Janus caught the sharp glare that he cast each of warriors before he walked away, continuing down to the main deck. While more glances were forthcoming in the wake of Robert of Mirar’s departure, including several more lascivious ones cast Erika’s way, the other warriors on the ship kept their distance from the prisoners, and went about their tasks.
Once the recovery of their own dead and the despoilment of the longship had taken place, the large galley was prepared for cast off from the doomed longship. Slanted benches were occupied in good order, by pairs of men that took up the ends of long oars.
Robert of Mirar’s next orders were then relayed down the length of the galley. Janus listened idly to the firm directive as it was conveyed all over the vessel. There was no use for the conquered longship, and as the victors did not want it to fall into enemy hands again, they had to sink it before departing.
A couple of men labored to swivel the yard arm of the mizzen mast outward, bringing it over the interior of the Midragardan vessel at about midship. A large, heavy shaft of wood, bound by stout, iron studs, was attached to the extremity of the yard arm.
The iron-studded shaft descended in a plunging free-fall, ending with a tremendous, crashing blow, as shards of wood exploded high into the air. Water was already rushing into the belly of the longship by the time that the crew had pulled the tethered shaft of wood back up to the yard arm. Moments later, a little further down the longship, they let it plummet to another smashing impact.
The crew then swiveled the long yard arm away from the other deck. It was not long before the longship began to sag beneath the lapping waves.
The galley crew labored quickly to remove the shaft. A rhythmic chant broke out, as the oarsmen dipped their wooden blades into the seas, and began to pull away from the submerging longship. Not wanting to watch the elegant longship lower into the depths, Janus watched the men as they rowed, using a sit and stand method.
A short time later, more orders were disseminated, and the crew worked the halyards on the two great masts to lower a pair of huge, triangular sails. The wind had grown in strength as the galley moved farther away from the island, and the sails were adjusted to use the natural force to the ship’s advantage.
The four captives sat together miserably, unable to look back towards the fading shore, or to inquire into the matter of the other three from their world. Logan retreated into a dark silence, a scowl weighing heavily upon his face, while Antonio looked about wide-eyed, his face a mask of anxiety. His hands shook as he tried in vain to clasp them to stillness.
To Antonio’s right, Erika looked downcast, staring at the wooden boards of the aft-castle. The hardened defiance of a few minutes earlier had deflated into a numbed placidity.
Janus closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. They were all prisoners within their own private worlds, as well as that of the world that they dwelled within. The only mercy was that there were no great ocean swells for the galley to contend with, and the gentle, low-rolling waters that they passed through did little to unsettle him.
In time, excited outcries from the vessel’s crew broke the monotony of the travel. A number of large winged steeds descended from the sky, coming into the captive’s view as they landed upon the forecastle platform of the galley.
Janus recognized the riders, if not their robust steeds.
“The Trogen’r here for ya!” exclaimed one of the men, in a jeering, derisive manner. “Bet ya like those tidings.”
The riders were unmistakably of the kind that had attacked Janus and the others on the shore, hulking brutes with pronounced, canid visages, and bristling with muscularity. Their steeds were similar in many respects to the Brega and Fenraren that Janus had come to know. They were winged, four legged mammals, of a decidedly predatory nature.
There were several characteristics that distinguished them from the steeds of the tribal warriors and Midragardans. Janus took notice of the distinctive slant to their bodily profile, from head to haunches, even as he beheld their broad jaws, and large, triangular ears. Thick, coarse fur, of varying dark brown and black hairs, covered the formidable-looking creatures, with the fur of their legs ascending in rings of contrasting light and dark hues, all the way up to their underbellies.
One of the Trogens dismounted, and walked over to talk privately with Lord William. Janus could not make out what the bestial creature was saying, as its voice carried across to him as a low rumble.
Fear rippled through Janus, as he thought of the frothing, enraged, non-human warriors that had ambushed them on the beach. The feral-looking creatures’ mere appearance was disconcerting enough, and not just to the captives. Several of the crewmen cast nervous, furtive glances towards the Trogens. The creatures apparently were in alliance with the humans, but there was not a trace of affinity to be found. Of all the men that Janus could see, only Lord William appeared to be completely at ease in the Trogens’ presence.
The conversation came to an end, and the Trogen shifted to face its still-mounted comrades. It commanded the other four Trogens to dismount.
Lord William of Talais strode briskly down the deck towards the captives, with Robert of Mirar to his right side, keeping about a stride’s length back. He wasted no time when he reached the quartet, stating “You are to go with the Trogens, upon their Harrak steeds. They will keep you safe, as they convey you onward. Your destination is eventually to be Avalos itself. Consider it an honor that you will be escorted and protected in a journey to the great city.”
“Your safe passage there is desired by the Unifier. You have nothing to fear from the Trogens,” Robert of Mirar said, when Lord William had finished. Janus followed Robert of Mirar’s sideward gaze, to see that Antonio was pressing nervously against the sides of the ship, as the towering beast-men strode up to the aft-castle and came to the platform to join them.
The Trogen leader looked upon the bound captives, and warned them in a growling tone, ill-humored and thick with severity, “Do not harm the Harraks. Or try to escape. You will find that you cannot fly.”
The Trogens then hauled and dragged the captives in a rough manner away from the aft-castle, prodding them down the length of the galley towards the waiting Harraks. With their wrists still bound, the captives were lifted up onto the saddles of the beasts, hoisted as if they were little more than sacks of grain. Leather straps attached to the saddles were used to tie them down.
Once the captives were affixed to the saddles, the Trogens freed their hands, much to Janus’ immense relief. The Trogen warrior that had addressed them on the aft-castle of the ship then reminded them, in a very harsh timbre, not to entertain any ideas of resistance, or evasion.
Janus, who had ridden upon the Brega, took immediate account of the greater size and much edgier temperament of the Harraks. The steed that he was mounted upon rotated its head, emitting a throaty snarl, its sneering mouth revealing razor-sharp, huge canines. Janus could only take a deep breath as his heart sped up rapidly, drawing upon every shred of his experience with the Brega, as he awaited their departure.
A total of seven Trogens had been provided to escort them, two of which had been circling about in the sky, high above the galleys, as the captives were attended to. The one that seemed to be the leader of the small band finally called out a loud command, when all of the captives and Trogens were saddled up. One by one, the winged steeds leapt from the bow of the ship, dipping down sharply towards the ocean’s surface, before lurching upward violently, with vigorous, rapid flaps of their great wings.
The awkward takeoff was instantly disconcerting to Janus, his throat feeling like it was merging with his stomach in a dizzying embrace. He held his composure as best he could, as they began to climb steadily into the air. He spared a glance back, to see how his companions were faring. Within the angle of the steep incline, the effect was more than a little disorienting as he craned his neck around.
Farthest behind, Antonio had finally succumbed to a wave of fear-driven nausea, retching and vomiting copiously. He had closed his eyes tightly, patently unable to bear the sights of the tumultuous ascension.
Though Logan maintained a stony expression, his eyes bore straight into the neck of his steed, never straying away from where his gaze was locked. Janus knew that the rigid stare betrayed Logan’s own rattled nerves.
Erika looked to Janus as she flew up behind him. She managed a weak grin in his direction, though her hands were drained of color where she clenched tightly onto the reins of her steed. He held her eyes for a moment, and gave her a nod of reassurance, before a gust of wind brought his head back around, as his steed was buffeted about for a moment.
Awash with their fears, the captives kept their eyes trained forward as they began their flight over the blue expanse of the ocean. Only Janus cast a few furtive glances backwards, already feeling sharp pangs of anxiety concerning the unknown fates of the friends that they had left behind. There was no hope of gaining any answers, as the Midragardan island was an indistinct speck at the outset of the flight, before swiftly becoming lost to his eyes.
The Trogens oriented the flight of the group westward, heading directly towards the coastline of the Five Realms. Janus watched the waves coursing along the ocean’s surface far below, looking up occasionally, to watch the stark lines of the coast and hills beyond the water drawing ever nearer on the horizon.
When they were on the cusp of the outer borders, and could see the coast and the tribal lands spread far ahead of them, the Trogens adjusted their flight path once again. The cluster of sky steeds turned sharply to the right, keeping roughly above the line where the land met the waters of the sea. The Trogens spurred the Harraks to pick up more speed, shouting loudly in their gruff voices.
The beasts repeatedly beat their wings down with great force, tilting their bodies a little forward in the exertion. The journey soon became a rush through the air, one that was undoubtedly very discomfiting for Janus’ inexperienced companions. It was unsettling enough for himself, even with the flying experience that he had gained with Ayenwatha. Janus turned his head away from the winds streaming into his face, and looked towards his comrades.
If it were not for the leather straps holding him in, Antonio looked as if he would have lost his balance from the saddle in those moments, as he swooned and swayed, shortly succumbing to another wave of sickness. The contents of his latest bout of nausea were sprayed out to the winds on one side of his Harrak. Fortunately, no others were immediately behind him.
Janus, the only one of them that had ridden in the sky before, came to appreciate the great strength and speed of the Harraks. Sturdy, powerful steeds, the creatures matched their imposing Trogen masters well.
Janus estimated that they had flown for less than an hour up the coastline when they came into sight of a few vessels, including several galleys. The ships were lumbering along the coastline, the elongated galleys accompanying a couple of larger, two-masted transport vessels.
It was not long before Janus’ group caught up to the small flotilla. The galleys and transports had their sails filled to capacity, taking advantage of the winds that labored to push the vessels onward.
The Trogens brought the Harraks into a descent towards one of the two sailing vessels. It was a hulking, round-bodied ship, with high, raised platforms set at either end, the rear graced by two curving spurs that rose high into the air.
Pennons flew aloft from the vessel, bearing a red spear set against a white background. A sizeable crew was diligently attending to an assortment of tasks, especially with regards to the two lateen sails hanging from enormous yard arms. The crew was human in nature, which in itself was a relief to Janus.
A number of warriors and ship hands surrounded the Trogens and their captives the instant that they landed on the raised aft deck. The four prisoners were regarded with great interest, curiosity emblazoned upon the faces of every observer.
“What task brings you here? This ship is under the command of the Order of the High Altar,” came the firm, unfriendly words of a tall, bearded man, whose gray eyes held an icy gaze.
He was clad in a long white mantle, which displayed a red, spear-like shape over the left breast, matching the images on the pennons. The mantle covered a long, black garment underneath, and he wore a soft black cap atop his head.
“Prisoners, captured from the Midragardans,” the lead Trogen responded. “This ship is bound for the north. Lord William of Talais says these prisoners are for the Unifier.”
The tall man regarded the prisoners quietly for a moment, his cold eyes studying them with keen intent.
“You will find Brother Bohemond below deck, in his compartment. He is still attending to the business of the horses that we are taking to the Sunlands,” the bearded man replied, the hair extending down from his cap blowing in the steady breezes. “Brother Bohemond and those assisting him still have to review some records, but you may take these captives below decks right away.”
The Trogens dismounted, and proceeded to get the four prisoners off of their steeds. As before, they cared little for politeness or comfort in the manner that they handled the captives. Janus winced, as he felt the hard nails of a Trogen’s hands dig into his sides, as he was brought down from the saddle. The freedom of his hands was then taken away, as they were once again bound behind his back.
With grips like iron, the Trogens tugged them forward, towards the wooden stairway to the main deck of the ship. Janus cast a quick glance around. Just off the port side was one of the war galleys, a great, mounted crossbow resting on its forecastle deck.
They continued below through an opening in the main deck, descending a short flight of wooden stairs. Janus’ nostrils were greeted instantly by the pungent scent of animals. The air was thick to breathe, as compared to the open air that they had just left above them.
A moment later, Janus’ ears caught several neighs and whinnies from somewhere within the lower depths of the ship. Given their considerable height, the Trogens had to hunch over to walk in the tighter confines below deck. The ship’s timbers creaked as the vessel rode the waves, and Janus could feel the ocean’s movements in his shaky balance, made worse with his bindings. He was simply grateful that the waves were not choppy or turbulent, keeping to a calm, rhythmic pattern.
There were a couple of voices engaged in discussion, the words of which were understandable as Janus stepped forward carefully along the lower deck.
“They all look healthy, and we have enough provisions to easily cover the leagues until we reach a friendly port,” came a low, deferential voice.
“Then so be it, as our brothers in the Sunlands are forced to use what would be pack animals as war horses. Such are the shortages along the coast there,” replied a deep voice.
“I understand, and I will work to make sure that every horse on this ship reaches the Sunlands, in a healthy condition,” said the other.
“So this record accounts for all transactions?” the deep voice said.
“It does,” confirmed the other. “We will secure the records right away.”
A low growl heralded the approach of the Trogens with their prisoners, just as they neared the doorway to a small compartment, which Janus estimated to be at the bow of the ship.
“Yes, I know you are there, come in,” called the deep voice, with a hint of irritation.
The foremost Trogen opened the creaky wooden door, letting light spill out into the gloom around them. The deep-throated growl came again, louder, and more menacing.
The light of the lamp inside the compartment seemed to be swallowed by the black fur of the huge cat sprawled out on the timber planks. Its gold-hued eyes reflected brightly in the light, fixed upon the incoming group. It was then that Janus took note of the light reflecting off of two immense canines, descending from the broad upper jaws of the beast. Like unsheathed blades, their bared presence cast a fearsome aura.
Janus’ heart nearly stopped, until he noticed that a metal chain secured the great feline.
“And I should presume that new tidings or prisoners have arrived. It is not often that we are visited by the like of Trogens,” the strong, low voice proclaimed, as the speaker came into view. “At ease, Shadow.”
The great cat eased downward at the man’s words, though its gleaming orbs remained riveted upon the prisoners and Trogens. The light from the suspended lantern was enough to reveal a man clad in a white mantle, also displaying the red spear ensign. From his crouched posture, Janus could tell that had the man been standing, his height might well come close to that of the Trogens.
His squared jaw, furrowed brow, and coal black eyes complimented a natural scowl. His hair was cropped just below his ears, and a thick black beard grew along his chin and jaws. He wore a dark, soft cap, like that gracing the head of the man on the aft castle.
He was seated on a wooden bench, and had been pouring over some parchments with another man, of medium build, who wore a black mantle with a red spear ensign. As they came into the light, the first man set the documents down upon a chest in front of him. He regarded the incoming prisoners with scrutiny.
As they gathered before him, he folded his arms across his broad chest. Janus did not doubt that the man’s menacing visage had troubled and intimidated many men before. With a hardened expression, and focused gaze, he studied the prisoners closely, for several moments, before speaking.
“And who might they be?” he addressed the Trogens, though he kept his eyes fixed firmly upon the quartet.
“Captured in battle with the Midragardans. A raid led by Lord William of Talais,” the Trogen dutifully responded, in its rumbling voice. “Lord William said to bring them here. That they are foreign. That the Unifier has interest in them.”
The other man nodded, as he studied the four carefully. His eyes lingered upon the matching pendants that the prisoners wore. He was not the sort of man prone to give away his intentions by his expression, but Janus caught a moment of recognition in the man, as he stared at the pendants.
Although he did not smile, it was clear to Janus that he was pleased with the decision by Lord William to send the prisoners to him. His interest shifted immediately from worries about horses to rest in full upon the prisoners.
“There is something unusual here,” the man mused aloud, addressing the foursome. “It goes without saying the words. I have been around all kinds, in escorting pilgrims to the Sunlands. I have traveled far on the business of my Order. In time, we will find out who you are, and where you are from. For now, know that you are in the ward of Bohemond, of the Order of the High Altar.”
The man gave them a smile entirely devoid of welcome or warmth. He glanced back towards the Trogens.
“I have few enough men as it is. Keep them bound, and hold them above deck, where all can keep their eyes upon them. I hold you responsible. I will decide the best way to convey them to Avalos,” Bohemond commanded, making a motion of dismissal. “I must finish my business here.”
“As you wish,” the Trogen replied with a nod, though visibly irritated at the order.
The four prisoners were pushed and jostled out of Bohemond’s presence, and led all the way back, out onto the open deck where they were unceremoniously shoved to the right. They were guided to the stern of the ship, taken beneath the wide, raised half-deck augmented by the two curving sternposts.
The prisoners were then thrust down onto the hard wooden surface, hitting it with a series of thuds. They were able to brace their backs on the side, their heads coming to rest just below the gunwale.
A number of the ship’s men paused to regard the strangers as they passed by. Hard, warning stares from the Trogens compelled them to resume their business with the rigging and the other tasks of the large vessel. The ship’s crew kept a wide berth from the upper level with the Harraks.
The sun was still high, but theirs was a shaded section of the ship. The air was comfortable enough, with cool, salty breezes wafting off of the sea waters. Janus could feel the graceful movement of the sailing vessel through the waters. In any other time, the conditions would have been ideal for such a voyage, but there was no mistaking the powerless nature of their incarceration.
“Stay strong,” Erika said quietly to Antonio, the first real words among them since they had gone into the skies.
Antonio looked positively terrible, with a pasty, clammy sheen to his skin. He had not recovered from the flight at all. He still shook with tremors from the great terror that he endured during the trip, and Janus knew that there was nothing left in the poor young man’s stomach.
“I mean it. Hold together, Antonio,” she told him gently. “We are together.”
His wide, glistening eyes locked onto hers, and he slowly swallowed, and nodded his head.
Janus, on the other side of Antonio, gently added. “They still think we are important. We need to make sure it stays that way. If it does, they are not going to harm us.”
Antonio looked back at him and nodded, but mustered no verbal reply.
To Janus’ left, Logan looked sullen and angry, as he stared down at the hard wood of the deck, unable to express any counsel to Antonio. He did his best just to keep quiet every time he felt the weight of a stare upon him, glowering at everyone, captor or companion.
They had effectively been captives for much of the time since they had entered the new world. Only now, their captors were exhibiting a much lower degree of goodwill than had the tribal people. Janus could not even put a hand on Antonio’s shoulder to console the young man.
Once again, Janus and his companions were going to be sorely tested, on many different levels. As he had said to Antonio, he could only hope that they remained important in the eyes of their captors. He knew without a doubt that things would indeed turn for the worse if he and his comrades were deemed unnecessary.
Yet at the same time, he was not so sure that he wanted to be regarded as important enough to be taken to the Unifier; the individual that the Midragardans and five tribes so despised.
*