Dream of Legends (45 page)

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.