*
Deep within the cool shadows, underneath the thick covering of the forest, the Grand Council of the Five Realms met once again. Uneasiness and great concern were visibly splayed upon the faces of many of those present, and the rest had simply managed to retain a stoic facade. Even though the sun’s rays beamed down upon the forest, the clear day brought little comfort to the troubled souls of the Great Sachems seated amongst the trees.
Fifty strings of white shell-beads were again displayed in the center of the gathering, arranged in an unbroken circle. The array of strings were placed near to the large, rectangular shell-bead belt, with its design of purple and white, the prominent symbol of their collective unity. Also present was the bundle of five wampum strings.
Fifty sachems, bearing their ageless, hereditary titles, were gathered into two groupings on each side of a great fire. Many more of their number since the last gathering had received word that their villages had been reduced to rubble and splinters by the intense bombardments of stone from the returning Darroks.
The proud confederacy, which clung loyally to the One Spirit, was being pushed farther eastward to avoid the rain of death and destruction from the air. There would be no miraculous defense. The tribes were greatly reduced in terms of the warriors available who had mastered the use of sky steeds.
Even if there had been enough sky warriors to muster a defence, the enemy had come back this time with a strong escorting force of their own. It was no feeble guard either, as the new force of Trogen warriors mounted upon Harraks would have been more than enough to throw back the counterattack led by Ayenwatha during the enemy’s first assault.
A few of the more heated minds among the warriors of the tribes had advocated the immediate seeking of vengeance, but the cooler mindsets of Ayenwatha and others had fortunately prevailed at the War Councils. The hearts of most of the beleagured tribal people, warrior or not, were increasingly focused upon petition to the One Spirit for answers and for deliverance.
The darkest of tidings had arrived just a few hours earlier, hastening a meeting of the Grand Council. It had also spurred an emergency meeting of Ayenwatha and the lieutenants that had been chosen at the War Council following the initial Darrok attack.
Border scouts that bravely, and vigorously, kept watch on the adjacent lands controlled by the massive Gallean force had returned with urgency. Every word coming from their lips had carried a dire sense of warning. The tidings that they brought gave further life to the malevolent darkness now casting its shadows upon the hearts of the tribal people, as it fed ravenously off of the maelstrom of fear and sorrow that wafted through the forests of the Five Realms like a poisonous mist.
Enemy forces had begun to marshal, for what plainly appeared to be the final stages before the anticipated attack upon the outer boundaries of the Five Realms. The star insignia of the Unifier was being flown high from every area of the huge, diverse force’s encampment. Great numbers of warriors, both human and non-human, were assembling for impending war. A coalescing threat, like no other that the five tribes had ever faced before, was about to be unleashed upon them.
There were even signs that the weakened Anishin tribes to the north were mustering to join in the rapidly approaching assault. To many, the news would have been disheartening in the extreme, but Deganawida knew that he had to keep his mind still in order to execute his duties effectively as a Great Sachem. He was well aware of the fact that he was not the only leader whose limits would be sorely challenged, even among those of his own village.
He knew that Ayenwatha had numerous burdens to assume in carrying out the defense of the retreating tribal people. The task before the hardy war sachem was exceedingly difficult, and Deganawida felt an abiding sympathy for the ardent warrior.
Fighting humans was one matter, but all kinds of possibilities were inherent within the invading force. It made planning for defense all the more complicated, with many more elements to constantly keep in mind.
The Trogens, the brutish race that thrived upon drinking copiously from the cup of war, would be abundant in the skies above. With unfettered access to the high skies, the enemy would be able to ceaselessly watch for all movements being undertaken by the tribal defenders. That factor alone gave the enemy a tremendous advantage.
A small force of Gigans accompanying the enemy forces would also have to be closely watched. Much depended upon exactly where the immense beings would be bringing their legendary strength and fury. Concentrated, the towering, grotesque beings could punch through a massed defense all by themselves.
The formidable Atagar, the strange, rodent-like race whose odd anatomy allowed for fluid, subtle shifts between four and two legged stances, would present a host of problems within the dense, woodland environment; not the least of which were the huge, dagger-toothed cats that they brought along with them.
It was undeniably a potent, gravely threatening array of force, one that boded nothing but ill-fortune towards the future of the Five Realms.
“And what do the scouts determine?” Deganawida had asked a young, sharp-faced warrior, who had been summoned to address the Grand Council and act as a speaker for his fellow scouts.
The scout had replied to Deganawida’s query in a subdued voice, and the Great Sachem could tell that the scout deeply disliked being the bearer of such ill-tidings. “The enemy forces are ready for fighting within our forests. They are very numerous, and what disadvantages that the Galleans may have had in the forest they have planned for well, with the enlisting of the rat-men, the Gigans, and the Anishin tribes.”
“Is there any sign of exactly when they will strike?” asked a portly figure named Dehonareken, the fifth Great Sachem of the Onondowa tribe.
“To our eyes, the attack will occur at any moment… maybe it has already happened,” the scout answered gloomily. “When I left, their numbers were gathering in full strength.”
“Then the time is upon us to defend our lands and our ways,” Deganawida stated with absolute certainty. “There is no other choice for us to take.”
There was no hesitation in the Great Sachem’s voice. He walked closer to the fire, and slowly looked across the faces of the individuals on either side, brushing them with his own fiery gaze. The people of Deganawida’s tribe, the Onan, were known as the Keepers of the Sacred Fire. In that moment, it looked as if some of those very flames burned within the depth of his eyes.
There was not one trace of disagreement to be found amongst the gathered Great Sachems during that momentous hour. They were not about to bow to the demands of the Unifier, and they were also not about to leave their families and fellow tribal members exposed and defenseless. The powerful statement of Deganawida was merely a reflection of their already hardened resolve.
“Go back, and tell Ayenwatha that we must all prepare for battle,” Deganawida said to the scout. “The moment that they move against us, we must close our bite down upon them, with powerful jaws.”
The scout balked for a moment, cowed by the icy, steely gaze from Deganawida. He recovered swiftly, and bowed his head in a gesture of deep respect, before ushering himself out of the Council’s sight, to begin the task that had been delegated to him.
Deganawida himself bowed to the others of the Council, and the assemblage was brought to a close a short time later. Deganawida lingered for a few moments afterwards to remove his deer-antler headdress, giving it, his own shell-belt, and the bundle of five arrows that he had held during the Council over to a trusted Onan man for safekeeping. When he was finished, Deganawida strode outward from the Council fire, heading in the general direction that the scout had gone.
Once away from the site of the Council, he looked towards a couple of warriors from his village, who were standing idly just a short distance away. Both were awaiting his presence, having been assigned to attend to the venerable sachem at the express desire of Ayenwatha. Deganawida did not delay in his purpose, quickly asking for them to bring forth his Brega steed, Coramm.
The warriors hurried off, returning quickly with the mighty winged beast that Deganawida had trusted implicitly for more than eight years. The creature was already fitted out with a blanket, low padded saddle, and harness. The warriors handed Deganawida his tribal war club, which they had kept in their care during the Grand Council assembly.
The Brega then lowered itself down to the ground so that Deganawida could get situated upon its back. Once Deganawida was seated, the Brega rose up and trotted forth under the Great Sachem’s guidance. Deganawida acknowledged the two warriors with a nod, bidding them well as he moved past them.
The intertwining labyrinth of branches overhead effectively blocked any chance of upward passage, forcing rider and steed to search out a suitable place for ascent. It was one of the great limitations of using the Brega in the woodlands, especially when the tribal people no longer had any access to their hill-top villages.
After less than half a league, they came to a small break in the forest’s naturally interwoven ceiling. It was an open space that was just large enough to allow the Brega and Deganawida a passage of escape up into the heights.
Starting farther back under the tangle of overhead tree branches, Deganawida urged Coramm forward into a run. The creature rapidly built up speed, such that it was bounding by the time it reached the small clearing.
As soon as it was clear of the trees, Coramm leapt upward. With powerful flexing of its broad wings, the Brega pulled itself above the trees, rising through the opening. The creature’s calculation was precise, as the Brega was in no danger of grazing the treetops on the farther side of the clearing.
The Brega then angled itself downward almost immediately, at Deganawida’s behest, to keep a lower course that was more aligned with the treeline. Deganawida felt that there was little use in flying at a high altitude, especially when he could easily be seen, and then cut off, by marauding Trogen patrols. There were few good places to bring the steed down now that he was over the forest, which increased the risk of the solitary flight. Deganawida kept his gaze sweeping about, knowing that he was now under a constant threat of danger.
The Brega streaked swiftly onward, gracefully soaring just a few feet above the treetops as it rapidly covered the distance between the Council site and the outer borders of the Five Realms. Daylight was now ebbing towards dusk as rider and steed headed westward. Thicker cloud cover and a mild climate reigned in the upper skies, and Deganawida kept up an alert watch for any hint of the enemy.
The border was not all that far away through the air, giving Deganawida a slightly queasy feeling as he realized just how close the Grand Council was to the massing enemy invaders. The stalwart Brega soon neared the forest’s edge, prompting Deganawida to slow the fleet creature down to a near-hover.
At the very edges of the Five Realms, where the thinning trees gradually gave way to the open grassland of the plains beyond, Deganawida’s sharp eyes took in the fires from multitudinous campsites dotting the lands up and down the border.
Deganawida brought the Brega down to land upon the solid earth, just beyond the last trees of the forest, dismounting the sky steed with little effort. The hard ground met his feet, and he took in a full breath of the approaching evening’s cooling air.
He looked up into the darker blue-green shades of the sky, now fading towards the rich, violet gloaming of twilight that Deganawida normally found so enchanting. The skies of the western horizon were patchy with clouds, larger masses broken up by wispy, sporadic vapors in between.
The sounds of insects filled his ears. Deganawida envied the creatures, in that they felt no threat at the moment. Deganawida’s heart felt very weighed down. He knew that he had to get away from the somber Council before he gave away the feelings that were tearing at his heart. Though he never dismissed the impossible, for he believed that all things were indeed possible in the One Spirit, his sense of reason shouted out to him that the end of the Five Realms was truly imminent.
It was the reason why he did not deem the flight that he had just taken as an unnecessary risk. He wanted to see the border area for himself, and to take in the sight of the enemy campfires, all the while contemplating the ominious situation at hand.
The lands that had been the heritage of generation after generation of Onan were now about to succumb to the insatiable appetite of the Unifier, a hunger that could only have been born out of the ravenous Darkness. Like the great, brilliant bolts of energy that flashed down from the skies during violent storms, often bringing fiery destruction to the woods in their wake, so was the presence of the enemy army.
It was a vast, terrible storm teetering on the border region, filled with a host of searing bolts; all about to be discharged without mercy upon Deganawida’s homeland.
Deganawida thought for a moment that this was perhaps the last time that his ears would listen to the gentle sounds of the evening, as a weary day lay itself down to rest. It was quite possibly the last evening that he would have in the knowledge and confidence that the lands surrounding him were those of the Onan, and the fellow tribes of the great confederacy.
Even so, he felt honored at the truth that he was part of a people who were willing to remain steadfastly loyal to the One Spirit, even at the risk of their lives, and everything that they had ever known. He knew that they could have avoided the coming horror with great ease, as many kingdoms and lands already had, having simply agreed to accept the supreme sovereignty and authority of the Unifier.
He knew that such a path was no choice for those of the Five Realms, and he took a fiercely intensive pride in the knowledge that his people had steadfastly rejected such a course. In the eyes of eternity, Deganawida knew that he was playing an infinitesimally small part in an unimaginably immense cosmic battle. He had seen so much during his long life, and there was nothing in his memories to dispute his current sentiments. It was all part of an ecompassing conflict between good and evil, waged amongst a spectrum of mortals and immortals.
It was not an eternal struggle, he intimately knew. The war would be brought to an end some day. Perhaps that fateful hour would come sooner, or perhaps it would come later, but it would arrive nonetheless.
Whatever the outcome might be, Deganawida was committed to fulfilling his own part in the terrible fight. The fires dotting the plains before him showed Deganawida that a final stand was likely in the offing for him and many of his people. In his heart, he was girded and ready. The least that he felt that he could do for the One Spirit would be to lay down his life in the defense of his people and their lands.
The thought brought some further images to the forefront of his mind. Deganawida bit down on his lower lip as sadness welled up sharply within him. He was only one man, and he could not possibly stop the dark tides gathering against his people. He was braced for the worst that could happen to his own person, but women, children, and the elderly would likely be put to the claw, fang, and the sword very soon.
Suddenly, the huge number of enemy campfires seemed to be overwhelmingly daunting in the cold, unforgiving light of that knowledge. Deganawida wished that he could give up his life a thousand times over, so that his people might be spared the coming doom. He inwardly quivered at the thoughts of the terror that would soon be visited upon innocents, whose only fault was to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
He knew well enough that theirs was always the greatest of tragedies within wars over the long ages. The blood of innocents flowed into the umber depths of war’s abyss. The sorrow that emerged from such a chasmic darkness was thunderous indeed, accompanied by a deafening chorus of unrequited cries for justice.
Whether or not such galling inequity would ever be put to rights was wholly in the hands of the One Spirit. It was something far beyond the power of humankind, or even the greatest of Wizards, for that matter.
Deganawida could not long ponder such things, lest he give in to the overwhelming power of despair. Each simply had to choose whether or not to do their own tiny part in the greater fight, even without the comfort of truly knowing the nature of the path’s destination.
“Have strength, ageless one,” a gentle voice called forth from the growths behind him.
Deganawida whirled about in alarm, reflexively raising up his war club to face the intrusion, not knowing whether the person that had spoken was friend or foe. As close as he was to the enemy encampments, Deganawida’s instinctive inclination was to assume the latter.
A subtle glow deep among the trees limned the dark forms of two tall figures, one of which took a slow step forward, to where Deganawida could see the individual better.
“Who are you?” Deganawida queried, with an edge of challenge to his voice.
He doubted that the figures could even understand him, and hoped that they could at least perceive his wariness and tone if they somehow intended no harm.
“Rejectors of the Unifier, and certainly not part of that great rabble out there,” the figure replied calmly, and articulately, again in the Quoian tongue used by the five tribes. The sudden development was one that Deganawida certainly did not expect.
Deganawida peered at the man more carefully, though his companion still lingered back at the edge of the brush, with the mysterious glow coming steadily from farther behind. Full bearded, with long dark hair, the man’s head was circled about by a headband that held several narrow, wavy lines, woven of a silvery thread that reflected the moonlight. From what Deganawida could tell, the man was clad in a knee-length tunic and trousers. To Deganawida’s initial impression, the man looked every bit a Midragardan.
Deganawida did not know whether or not it was some hallucination brought on by the dimming light, but the man’s eyes seemed to sparkle with an energetic flare, as he looked with placid countenance towards Deganawida.
Deganawida also noticed that his Brega was not disturbed in the least by the two figures. If anything, Coramm was exhibiting signs of friendly excitement. Coramm had always had an uncanny sense for danger, so Deganawida could not help but take the reaction as a favorable indication.
Even so, Deganawida kept his war club gripped firmly in a readied position, and his feet in a well-balanced stance. He was fully prepared to show these strangers that he could wield the weapon capably, and move much better than his older appearance might have connotated.
“Who are you?” Deganawida inquired again of them.
“It is not important who we are, as much as it is what we are doing,” the figure answered enigmatically. “We are friends and allies of the one that you call the Wanderer… We are searching to find that which has been lost, and walking on a path of restoration. The Unifier is not the only one who is on the move in this troubled age.”
“And your place in this war, which is to break upon my lands soon?” Deganawida asked the stranger, with an even sharper edge to his voice.
“Be assured that all that we do opposes the designs of those that bring darkness upon your lands,” the stranger replied firmly, meeting Deganawida’s stare without blinking.
“You should leave these lands immediately then. It is very dangerous at this moment,” Deganawida said earnestly, even as part of him sensed that the man before him held no fear, or other anxiety. “This war is not one that we have chosen. The Unifier brings this war upon us, and will not allow us to live in peace. All signs are that the attack is about to commence, and some would say that it was foolish even for me to come gaze upon this border.”
“The Father of the Unifier was a murderer from the beginning, my friend,” the stranger responded cryptically. “What approaches is the fruit of the vine of death.”
“I would not argue with you on that,” Deganawida said. “It is indeed a great evil, but I try to keep such things out of my mind. I do not wish to be a beacon to such vile powers with my thoughts.”
“Your road goes ever on, and the Unifier may yet meet a very unpleasant end to His own road,” a new voice interjected, deeper and even more resonant than that of the first speaker.
The second figure then moved forward slowly from the shadows. Taller and broader than the first individual, he was clad in a very similar fashion. In his right hand, he gripped a long spear, whose angular blade shined brightly in the moonlight.
His face looked tense and stern, with his broad jawline taut as he peered out over the grassland and the teeming campfires farther beyond. Whatever he was searching for, he appeared to be satisfied a moment later as his eyes looked back to Deganawida.
“The final battles have not taken place, and the world cannot yet say the outcome, at least as we can understand it,” the second man continued somberly. “But you have given good account of yourself in all things, Deganawida. Stay true to your own course, and find the strength in yourself.”
“Are you Wizards then?” Deganawida asked suddenly, looking from one to the other. Finally, he allowed himself to ease his weapon down, figuring that the great spear held before him would already have been put to use if the men harbored ill intent towards him. Some of the tension in the air that had been raised at the Great Sachem’s sudden alarm also began to settle.
The hint of a smile crept onto the face of the first figure.
“It is you who say that we are, Deganawida,” he replied.
“I see that you are going to give no easy answers,” Deganawida responded, growing a little frustrated. “I can see why you are friends of the Wanderer.”
The remark brought a low chuckle from both of the figures. They were not devoid of a sense of humor, at least.
“I hope that you are Wizards, then, because I do not wish to see you caught between the jaws of this looming war,” Deganawida continued. “I hope that you have good means of travel out of here.”
The first figure reached into a pouch attached to the belt at his waist, drawing out what looked to be a folded piece of cloth. Holding it up higher, so that the light could catch the cloth better, he carefully undid the first fold.
The cloth was unmistakably fashioned in the shape of a Midragardan longship.
“We can avoid them easily enough,” the figure stated, glancing out with a nod towards the enemy campfires, “At least long enough to find a watercourse.”
“You are Wizards,” Deganawida then declared, gazing with interest upon the unique stretch of cloth, which held many more folds in its form.
The first figure smiled at Deganawida, as he folded the cloth over to its original state, and returned it back to the pouch.
“I wish that our people had such a means to evade this wicked design of the Unifier,” Deganawida said forlornly.
“Perhaps they do, in a place that you do not expect, one that is not so far from you,” the second, stoic figure stated.
“The Wizards that used to be amongst our people are nowhere to be found, and I am not confident that the Dark Brother has disappeared,” Deganawida replied ruefully. “The Light Brother. Deganawida, from whom I derived my own name. Hino. Gunnodoyak. The World Mother, the greatest of all of these. Where are they in these dark times? Tell me, if you are Wizards.”
The looks in the eyes of the two figures softened at Deganawida’s desperate, insistent words, unmistakable compassion and sympathy on their faces.
“The Enemy’s designs have long been set into motion, and in truth the invasion that you speak of has already been underway for many years,” the first figure said in a low voice.
“Then you know something of the fates of these Wizards?” Deganawida asked, growing more dismayed.
Both of the figures nodded. “Just something of their fates. Like I said, we are searching, to try and undo what has been done from the shadows and the darkness.”
“Many great wrongs have lingered over many long ages,” the second figure added. “And I have not always chosen well myself.”
At that moment, he brought up his left hand, so that Deganawida could see clearly where the man’s forearm was truncated into a stump. Deganawida said nothing, though the man did not volunteer any explanation as to how he had lost his hand.
“We are all on a path of restoration, and redemption,” the man finally said. “And some, more than most, on a path of discovery.”
Deganawida took the words in quietly, saying nothing in reply, as he looked from the spear-holder back to his companion.
“We must continue on our own path, for now,” the first figure interjected. “We must take our leave of you, Deganawida.”
“Are you alone? Or are there others with you?” Deganawida asked, casting a glance towards the strange, golden glow that could be seen a little deeper in the brush.
“If you would trust us, you may see our third companion before we depart,” the first figure said.
Deganawida nodded, knowing that if anything was really amiss, it would have surfaced long before then. All of his considerable instincts told Deganawida that these two figures were indeed no threat to him.
The spear-carrying figure then turned and walked off with long strides into the brush without another word, with Deganawida following behind, alongside the other stranger.
The spear-carrier pushed by some low brush growing near to the outer edge, where the thinner placement of trees allowed more light to reach the forest floor. The glow steadily grew brighter as they moved into the woods, the details of its source becoming clearer by the moment.
Deganawida stared in wonder at the creature standing just ahead of him, which radiated the golden light from its thick, bristly mane. Brawny of build, long of leg, and equipped with a fearsome set of tusks, the largest boar that Deganawida had ever beheld in the woodlands was standing just a few short paces away.
Such creatures were extremely dangerous in the wilds, but this magnificent animal made no sign of aggression as it regarded Deganawida and the others approaching it. Deganawida realized that it was great enough of stature that it could be ridden.
“This is our third companion,” the first figure announced.
“Who does not have a name either, I presume,” Deganawida retorted.
“It is not important who we are, at this time,” the first one responded. “It is better that you know who you are, more so than you know who we are.”
Deganawida just stared back at the confounding man, and shook his head.
“Well, such an incredible creature I have never seen before,” Deganawida said.
The glowing mane’s radiance was sufficient enough to light the way in the darkness for those with the creature.
“We shall see you again, of that I am certain,” the first man stated. “Remain strong, Deganawida, and allow yourself to discover the help for your people that you seek. I assure you, it is not as far as you think.”
The second figure with the spear gave a slight bow to Deganawida, as the two Wizards and the boar turned to walk off together into the forest. Deganawida watched them stride away, though it was quite some time before the forest’s darkness swallowed the last of the great boar’s golden glow.
Deganawida was left behind in an utterly mystified state. He had not given the Wizards his name, but they had known it all the same. They were, in all likelihood, what they said they were; friends and allies of the Wanderer. The Midragardan style of their attire and the spear were further evidence of that.
With slow, purposeful steps, Deganawida returned to where his Brega steed was still dutifully awaiting him, standing on the edge of the forest. Deganawida paused as he neared the noble creature, turning his attention back towards the fires burning off in the distance.
Deganawida took one more deep, calming breath of the night air, and relished the gentle peace that permeated the woods and grasses around him. He knew that the tranquility was not going to last, and the fires on the horizon were a grim harbinger of that dark reality. With a heavy heart, and much to ponder, he remounted his Brega and took hold of its reins.
He then set Coramm forward again, and they took off into the skies a few loping strides later. Once airborne, Deganawida turned the Brega sharply about, leaving the outermost borders of his lands behind, as he headed back eastward.
An aching rose within his gut that told the Onan sachem that it was the last time that he would set his eyes upon the border of the tribal lands. He could only hope that he was in error on the unsettling perception, though every ounce of his being told him otherwise.
Deganawida wished that he could stay for just a little while longer, but there was no time to tarry. The next day would arrive soon enough, and Deganawida’s people would need his focus and guidance, with all of the vitality that he could possibly muster.
Deganawida was of a singular purpose as he flew back to where the Onan were gathered. In the innermost part of his soul, Deganawida knew that he was wholeheartedly committed to his people.
He had the resolve to do whatever was needed of him, and was ready to make whatever sacrifices had to be made. Deganawida only hoped that he could find the help for his people that he sought in time, especially if it was truly as near as the two enigmatic Wizards had claimed.
*