Gunther had not yet come across the enemy, but he had picked up the trail of the four peculiar strangers. It was clear that the members of the quartet were neither advanced in woodland skills, nor particularly adept at masking their travel.
Any advance scouts sent by a mighty power like the Unifier would be among the best culled from powerful realms. Such individuals would likely prove a challenge even to one as practiced and experienced as Gunther.
The woodsman had now been shadowing the quartet’s moves for a couple of leagues. Five of his Jaghuns had accompanied him on the hunting expedition, including the one that had first picked up the strangers’ trail. The huge creatures moved dexterously and nimbly alongside Gunther, with nary a sound.
It was fortunate for the strangers that Gunther held such a degree of control over the massive, highly intelligent creatures.
The group of strangers had been walking along the forest’s edge for most of the morning, but had just recently turned inward, striding deeper into the woodlands. While still a considerable distance away, Gunther knew that if the strangers kept to their current path that they would eventually come upon his secluded homestead.
Gunther could not assume that they would change directions. He knew that he would soon have to determine whether or not they were truly of the Unifier. The last thing that he wanted was the Unifier’s minion’s becoming aware of his homestead, especially in the context of an imminent invasion.
If the strangers were innocent of such an association, as a significant part of him suspected, then they would be free to go on their way with Gunther’s blessing. If not, then they would not be leaving the woods alive.
Gunther still clung to a faint hope that the affairs of the world at large would bypass his small nook within the woodlands. He was realistic enough to know that such a hope probably would not be justified.
Yet as long as he could do something to affect matters, he certainly would try to guide his fortunes.
Clad in earthy colors, with a knee-length woolen tunic, breeches with narrow lengths of gartering wound snugly about the lower legs from his leather shoes up to his knees, his appearance blended quite well with the shadowy forest environment. Gunther was quite proficient at melting into his surroundings, as well as being adept in not providing his intended quarry with any sign that he was approaching.
Gunther realized that a part of him did not entirely care if the newcomers were investigated or interceded for. He could allow them to amble right into the two Jaghuns currently back guarding his homestead. He knew that his Jaghuns and their bone-crushing jaw strength would make very short work of the four humans.
The stark honesty of the realization was a notion that immediately shamed him, because at one time Gunther knew that he would have sought to protect any creature of the All-Father from avoidable harm.
He had indeed become very hardened over the recent years.
After much travel, pain, and sorrows, he had finally gotten his wish to live the way that he wanted to. He was just over forty, in full health, and still in possession of a very capable body. He was a little slower in reflex and speed than in his youth, but was stronger, more experienced, and far more skilled.
He had fast become defensive towards any unwanted intrusions, discovering a higher degree of sensitivity within himself at each ensuing instance. Most of the occurrences had involved woodland stragglers, whose presence and motives in the sparsely inhabited wildlands were never above suspicion.
Discernment of strangers was becoming an ever greater challenge, as Gunther grew to be fiercely protective of his solitude.
The occasional outlaw or brigand, sometimes appearing in small groups, wandered into his territory. Darker intentions did not always match with courage, as they were easily driven far off from the area. Only a very few had been foolish enough to make a fight of it, and those ill-advised men had met with a very quick fate.
There were a few rare positive exchanges, including some occasional interactions with the men who served Aethelstan, a great thane in service to the Ealdorman Morcar of Wessachia. Aethelstan lived within the nearest burh, a fairly large one called Bergton that lay to the east of Gunther’s abode.
The men of Aethelstan, and the great thane himself, respected Gunther’s desire to live in peace. They also did not mind Gunther’s unceasing tendency to drive off any brigands or outlaws wishing to take up residence within the wilderness area.
As such, they had never tried to pressure him in any way to conform to the usual standards expected of most men. Gunther knew that he did not actually own the land that he lived upon, but it was wild forest, and he did inadvertently provide Aethelstan with a very effective watch close to some Wessachian villages.
Gunther had long ago surmised that Aethelstan had deemed the stalwart’s woodsman’s shunning of brigands and outlaws as a worthy contribution, in lieu of any other service or material obligation to the Kingdom of Saxany. The King’s reeve at Bergton, an honest enough of a fellow named Behrtwald, had never even paid Gunther one visit.
Gunther could also tell that Aethelstan’s men were entirely fascinated with the exotic Jaghuns that he raised. They were creatures native to the legendary Shadowlands, which lay far to the east, across oceans and other harrowing lands.
Like Ebba in Oak Crossing, the great thane’s men brought Gunther periodic news of the broader world. While remaining isolated, to the point of being fairly reclusive, Gunther was not completely disinterested in word about the happenings in the Kingdom of Saxany and realms beyond.
The larger world had been at the center of his life, up until his self-imposed exile to the woodlands in the Saxan province. Regardless of everything, he was wholeheartedly prepared to live out his life in those woods, with the company of nothing more than his small brood of loyal Jaghuns.
Despite his chosen way, Gunther knew deep within himself that he could not let fellow creatures of the All-Father become needlessly endangered. He still believed firmly that the day would come when he would have to account for his entire life with the Creator of all things.
On that momentous day, no excuses would suffice. Only what he had done, and the choices that he had made, would be weighed in the balance to see whether or not he had truly accepted Emmanu.
Gunther admonished himself harshly for his insular, selfish, and undeniably cruel inclinations, at least until he fully determined the allegiances of the four outsiders.
Even with a modicum of understanding, Gunther was confident that he could determine whose side they were truly on; that of the Unifier, or those that wished to be free in will.
Confrontation on some level was inevitable, but there were no concerns if it turned for the worse. He had five fully trained, matured Jaghuns with him. Furthermore, any of the Ealdormen or Counts in the Saxan Kingdom, even King Alcuin himself, would have given anything to have the martial skill of one such as Gunther in their service.
Gunther quietly kept stride with the group of strangers as he pondered the challenges of his situation.
It was then that a voice, like a soft breeze, came abruptly to his ears.
“Gunther, hold for a few moments. I would speak with you.”
Gunther spun around at the sudden words, raising his arm with sword in hand to defend himself. Only at the last instant did he hold back the blow that he was about to deliver.
Standing calmly before him, in long blue robes, was a tall, elderly man, with a bountiful white beard and a similarly snowy mass of hair.
His face was set into a warm smile. He looked out from under the broad brim of his low-crowned hat with one blue eye, which seemed to sparkle with an inner light. The old man showed absolutely no concern over the upheld sword that had barely been held back by Gunther, his right hand resting without any sign of tension upon a tall wooden staff.