Ayenwatha waited until all seven of the foreigners had drawn near to him before continuing. His voice was thick with anger. “Those wings herald the doom of our lands, and the power that commands them is the bane of all our people… and, in truth, the bane of all people.”
“What… were those?” Logan asked Ayenwatha in a low voice, standing at Janus’ side with a furrowed brow.
Janus looked back to the sachem, the same question perched on the tip of his own tongue. Shifting over a couple of paces to stand next to Logan, Antonio kept his widened eyes fixated towards the skies.
Janus glanced over at Kent, who was at his other shoulder.
The right side of Kent’s face looked like tree bark, from where he had mashed his face into the trunk that he had taken cover by. One half of his face smooth, the other the inverse pattern of the bark, the resulting effect was undeniably comical. Janus had to stifle the chuckle that threatened to burst forth, given the very serious circumstances.
“The Unifier calls upon the power of many lands, and the forces gathering against us have far greater numbers than do we. It is no different with their sky warriors. We have winged steeds, but we must keep our steeds upon the ground, lest we become overwhelmed by their numbers in the sky,” Ayenwatha replied in a grave tone. “The enemy has brought a very fierce race with them from afar, warriors whose great steeds are stronger and faster than are ours.
“It is said that the dog-faced warriors that ride upon those steeds come from the great, mountainous lands to the west of the Gigan lands, those huge creatures that some among you saw marching with the human forces this day. The dog-faced ones are powerful and courageous warriors, known as Trogens.”
Janus could hear the sincere respect that Ayenwatha held towards these particular enemies, though Janus had not the first inkling of what Trogens were.
There was so much to assimilate since that morning. Learning of the existence of a strange race of dog-faced warriors riding upon winged beasts was now added to everything else. Janus already had to contend with thoughts of the passing of a massive army on the brink of war, Ayenwatha and his people, Gigans, Atagar, Licanthers, the Wanderer, all manner of foreign realms, the apparent reality of magic, and the talk of the foreboding Unifier.
Janus had no answers for any of it, and it was almost enough to send his head spinning. From a quick look at each of the others of his party, it did not look like any of them had a full grasp of things either.
Starkly confronted by the growing maelstrom of an unknown, very dangerous world, Janus knew that, like himself, his companions were only just beginning the quest of coming to terms with their new reality. It was a challenge that none of them had chosen, but one that all would have to face outright.
“We must not delay here,” Ayenwatha said after a few more uncomfortable moments, “We must continue onward to the village.”
There were no arguments forthcoming from anyone, warrior or exile alike, as Ayenwatha resumed the march, leading the war band at a brisk pace through the woods.
LOGAN
The Onan village to which Logan and the others were escorted was a fountainhead of tranquil imagery, from its own majestic, hilltop perch, to the sights within the scenic, forested terrain leading up to the prominent rise.
The village was nestled within a territory that was rich in beech and birch trees, as well as the white flowers amply decorating the ground that Logan had seen everywhere within the forest domain. The village itself surmounted a great hill, but the signs of human habitation came into view well before the party reached the base of its long slope.
The war party had announced its presence early on the approach to the hill, with a series of spirited cries and whoops that had carried far through the trees and hills. Logan had quickly perceived the rising enthusiasm running through the warriors, noticing at the same time that the group’s pace had picked up significantly. With the upswing in mood and the brazen outcries, he had known that it was not going to be much farther to their destination.
The next indication of their close proximity to the village came shortly thereafter. A couple of warriors that had been sent running ahead a short while earlier returned back to the war band. They had not come back alone, as they were accompanied by a small number of tribal women.
The faces of the women beamed radiantly when they came into sight and saw the rest of the war party. They quickly took notice of Logan and his six companions, eyes widening as they studied the strange appearances and clothing of the foreigners. An even more amazed look arose upon their faces when it was explained to them that the seven were not captives taken in battle.
The women’s purpose in meeting the war party was then revealed, though the women did not cease in casting furtive glances towards Logan and the others.
The rather grisly scalps that had been carried along by the warriors were then affixed to small rings that were set atop long, red-painted poles brought by the women. Once the scalps were attached, they took up the poles again as the group resumed its march through the woods. The women carried the poles upright and held high, like a standard, as they walked at the forefront of the war band.
The next tribal people that the party encountered were a number of men who had been engaged in hard labor. That was made quite apparent from the glisten of sweat covering their bared skin, their weary countenances, and the heavier breathing pervasive among them. Sunlight reflected off of many axe heads, the short wooden hafts held firmly within the hands of several of the men.
Many were bare of chest, wearing little more than a kind of hide breechcloth, of the type that went between their legs and was tucked over a hide belt in front and back. They wore no body paint, though a copious array of tattoos, reflecting the diversity of design seen upon the warriors, were worked into the skin of their lean bodies.
Though they had come to a complete halt in their labors at the approach of the war party, their undertaking was clear to Logan. They had been embroiled in the task of felling several trees within an area that was evidently being cleared for some future use.
The men, like the women carrying the poles, were elated at the sight of the returning war band. They hastened over and exchanged informal, fervent greetings with the warriors, several individuals in both groups clearly displaying affinity towards each other.
The men eyed Logan and his companions very closely, as Ayenwatha and the other warriors spoke briefly with them. The march was resumed again very shortly, as the men from the nascent clearing brought their hand axes along with them, falling in with the growing procession.
The enlarged group had not gone much farther when they ran into yet more members of the tribe that had been toiling with the land. In broad swathes of ground that had been fully cleared of trees, now teeming with small dirt mounds, a number of women had been laboring amid some newly sprouted crops.
Scattered throughout the mounds and growths, the women were fully oriented upon the war party’s presence by the time that it drew into their sight. Joyous smiles spread quickly, and within moments the throng of women was converging upon the marching group.
The war party came to yet another halt at that juncture. As the women gathered all around, Logan took the opportunity to study the females of the tribe a little more carefully.
The majority of the women was clad in one of two general styles of attire. One group wore wrap-around garments, not unlike long skirts, which were accompanied with cape-like tops on their upper bodies. Others were clad in full-length tunics. Both styles were fashioned of buckskin, most being left in a natural color, with a few dyed to darker hues.