Dream of Legends (31 page)

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.