Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (18 page)

“It
isn’t just that I’m uneasy. This thing really has its hooks into me. What could
it be? Shit! I feel like I have to do something or I’m going to explode!”

Jeff
forgot the horse and paced back and forth in the corral until he had beaten a
hard path. Try as he might, he could make no headway toward understanding.
Clasping hands behind his back, Jeff picked up the pace but the tension did not
abate. Completely fed up, he kicked a clump of dirt and sent it sailing.

“I’ve
never felt like this in my entire life! What is it about these people? They’re
primitive, even brutal, but are so generous and open at the same time. You know
exactly where they’re coming from minute to minute, and never have to worry
about looking for a hidden meaning. God that’s great, and so are they.” Jeff
shook his head violently. “Dammit, this is my home. I love these people! I
can’t let anything happen to them.”

Stunned
by what he had said, Jeff stood stock-still and let the fact sink in that not
only did he love them, but they also loved him. He had become a part of them,
and they of him.

“I
haven’t felt this good since leaving the farm!”

Taking
a seat on an old stump, the evening meal forgotten, he wondered at the feeling
of wholeness he was experiencing. Jeff reveled in it for a period before
turning his thoughts back to the sense of urgency. Without even trying, the
answer jumped out at him.

“So
that’s what it’s all about! It has to be the South. Something is heading our
way, and it isn’t good. I’ve got to find out what’s going on. I can almost feel
the threat.”

Jeff
jumped to his feet only to find himself nose to snout with Cynic, who was
favoring him with an intent cyan eye. Set against a gray and silver hide, the
effect was strikingly beautiful.

“Well,
what?”

His
stomach was growling for attention and Jeff turned to leave. Clear as a bell, a
thought bloomed in his mind.

“Are
you always so tardy in discovering your mind?”

Thunderstruck,
Jeff spun around.
“I have attempted to speak with you for weeks! Have you no
manners, or are you simply slow?”

Chagrined
not at all, Cynic responded with a touch of caustic humor.
“I had nothing to
say.”

Speechless
at such a classic rejoinder, Jeff broke out in gales of laughter.

“I
must accompany you, you know. On such a journey there must be someone who has
common sense. Besides, plowing with stupid creatures that cannot even pass the
time of day grows more difficult by the hour. Soon I must turn and savage the
beasts from spite alone.”

Cynic’s
acid comment was about to set Jeff off again when he recalled the time.
“You
and I have much to discuss, bucko, but I must put the nosebag on or die of
hunger.”
 

Having
made up his mind to head south, Jeff broke the news to Halric and Gurthwin that
evening. They raised such strenuous objections that Jeff finally had to
interrupt to get a word in edgewise.

“With
tribes to the north on the move, can we afford to believe that no threat may
visit Valholm from the south simply because for many years it has not? How long
would this people endure, caught between such forces unprepared? May we ignore
the stories of Iron-shirt invaders, knowing they were not defeated? Yet there is
more. My very spirit calls out in warning. I have never felt such compelling
force, and am persuaded that if gods exist they even now move me to discover
our peril. I must go. Do you understand this?”

Gurthwin
examined the passionate conviction on Jeff’s face and dismissed the objections
he had lined up to present.

“You
will journey south, for what you relate persuades me that it is your destiny to
do so. Were you to remain, the future of this land would be dark.” Gurthwin’s
expression grew severe. “Never doubt the gods’ presence and interest, Jeffrey.
I have shared your memories of Earth, but be assured that this land is not
abandoned to the written word and its manifold interpretation by self-serving
mortals. Anyone who acts on such presumption faces peril beyond belief.”
Gurthwin glanced at Halric. “Let us consider what must be done.”

Halric
examined Gurthwin’s expression and simply nodded agreement.

While
Jeff and Gurthwin debated alternative plans, Halric seemed to be mulling
something over and eventually broke in.

“Of
a summer when the sun hangs at its highest point in the sky, we are accustomed
to undertaking a trek to the meeting of two rivers far to the south. There we
join in moot with kinsmen to renew friendships and, perchance, arrange betrothals.
If threat is discovered to the south, many tribes may be so advised at one
meeting.”
 

Halric’s
idea was quickly adopted. The time until the tribes got together was short, but
summer solstice didn’t occur until what sounded like late July on Earth. After
the meeting broke up Jeff started compiling a list. There were a lot of things
to do before he could leave. Finding a horse was at the top of his list and
only one came to mind.

There
wasn’t much sleep that night and he was at the stables when the plowing crew
showed up. Those who had taken to farming were uneasy about giving up one of
their draft animals. Cynic could be a handful, but he was also smart. The
matter was quickly arranged when Gurthwin made his wishes known.

Cynic
had never been ridden and the ether fairly boiled as they worked out whether,
in fact, Jeff was going to ride at all. Then there was the question of who was
going to be in charge of the expedition. More than once, Jeff felt sure it was
not going to be him. Within several days, however, Cynic allowed Jeff to mount
and responded to knee pressure with little training. Now it was time to find a
saddle.

Jeff
scouted the entire village but came up empty-handed. He considered riding
bareback but discarded the idea unless there was no alternative. From what he
had learned the moot grounds were far south and the city of Rugen, his ultimate
goal, quite a bit farther still. In fact, Gurthwin had no idea how far south
Rugen was. It was going to be a long trip and he needed to carry supplies. He
talked with the village tanner about the problem.

The
elderly man pulled at his beard for a period then hurried to a nearby storage
hut.

Hardly
daring to hope, Jeff followed along and helped him dig through a pile of
leather gear that had accumulated over the years. The gaffer abruptly let out a
snort of triumph. The scrofulous thing he pulled out deflated Jeff’s hopes in
an instant. Taking a closer look, he saw that it resembled a western saddle.
Its shape wasn’t the problem. The cinch strap was so cracked as to be useless,
one stirrup was missing, and the leather was covered with a fuzzy crop of green
mold.

The
tanner took Jeff’s arm and led him from the hut with a confident smile. “Return
late on the morrow.”

Showing
up as directed, Jeff stared in disbelief at the now gleaming saddle. “I am
overcome,” he blurted, fingering the new, intricately tooled cinch strap. In
addition to fabricating a new cinch strap, the tanner had replaced both
stirrups. “Such beautiful work.”

The
gaffer was delighted at Jeff’s response and helped him lug it over to the
stables. It wasn’t that late, but Jeff decided to wait until the next day
before introducing Cynic to the saddle. He felt an ominous foreboding that
suggested he had best get a good night’s rest.

When
he stepped into the stable next day, there was no doubt in Jeff’s mind that
Cynic had figured out what was going on. Eyes fastened on the saddle, Cynic
projected such a strong mixture of apprehension and profound disgust that Jeff
knew he was in for it.

“I
have agreed to carry you, must you now torment me?”

“This
does not look good,” Jeff muttered, studying his mount
. “The saddle will not
harm you, and offers a better seat to insure comfort on a long day’s journey.”
He held up a saddle pad.
“This device will give protection.”

Cynic
was not deceived for a second.
“Comfort for whom? My back already aches,
anticipating its wounds. I will not consent to such an indignity!”

“Now
look here, a lot of work has gone into this.”
Jeff
unlatched the gate to Cynic’s stall.
“How about working with me for a change
instead of fighting every suggestion? The saddle is not only for my comfort. It
will also assist in carrying food for both of us. You’re just going to have to
bear up, like it or not.”

“That
we shall see!”

Thrusting
by Jeff, Cynic thundered out of the stable. He put his rump to the corral
fence, reared high and shrilled defiance. Villagers came running and shouted to
attract the attention of others along the way. Perched on the corral fence or
hunkered down, they began a round of spirited wagering.

Saddle
in hand, Jeff advanced on Cynic. Although concentrating on Cynic, he overheard
the betting and winced at the going odds. He managed to get the pad in place,
but Cynic immediately pivoted and knocked him on his rear end. Picking himself
up, Jeff dusted off his jeans and advanced with grim determination dragging the
saddle. Cynic reared again and bolted to the opposite side of the corral.

Villagers
crowded the corral fence until it was on the verge of collapse and cheered one
or the other, depending on their wagers. Cynic pranced, crow-hopped and bucked
his way around the enclosure for over an hour, knocking Jeff to the ground on
several more occasions. The last time he landed flat on his back and the breath
whooshed out of his lungs.

On
his feet and still fighting for air, Jeff ignored the saddle. He walked over to
confront Cynic, his nose a bare inch from the horse’s snout.

“Okay,
that’s it. You have a choice. Do you want to go with me or not? Either you let
me put the saddle on your back or you’ll be pulling a plow from now on. Make up
your mind, and do it now!”

The
crowd silently took it all in. As often happened during such confrontations,
Jeff had forgotten himself and spoken out loud as well as telepathically.

Cynic
figured he had Jeff on the ropes and ready for the canvas, but was forced to
consider his alternatives. He despised plowing with every fiber of his being
and could hardly wait to leave the village.

“If
I must be tormented by plow or saddle, place the saddle. If I am thus wounded,
be assured you will walk.”
  

“If
such occurs, I shall willingly do so. Now hold still. Please! I know this is
difficult to accept. I would never ask this of you if it were not important.”

Jeff
finally got the job done and convinced Cynic to accept a hackamore. After
venting more of his spleen, Cynic was ready to burn off some energy. He and
Jeff spent the balance of the day in the surrounding country getting used to
the new lash-up and letting tempers cool. A round of belly laughs greeted
Jeff’s hobbling entrance at evening meal, although some sympathetic soul did
thrust a tankard of beer into his hand.

Having
completed preparations to leave, this was also to be Jeff’s last shared meal
for some time. The tanner had cooperated with a leatherworking friend to
construct beautifully tooled saddlebags, and they were presented to Jeff with
due ceremony and speeches. Halric also gave a speech as did Gurthwin, each one
calling for another round of beer. When it was over, Jeff was reeling from the
beer and misty-eyed from the general affection heaped on his head.

He
woke up next morning with a throbbing headache and had to saddle Cynic in
careful steps. The saddlebags proved difficult to attach, and Jeff asked the
tanner for a hand. While he and a few friends worked with the saddlebags, Jeff
secured his saber under the left stirrup. When the saddlebags were tied into
place, Jeff was forced to remind his reluctant mount that much of the weight
resulted from grain.

The
entire village turned out and it took the better part of an hour to make his
farewells. Mounting up, Jeff leaned down from the saddle to grasp hands with
Halric and Gurthwin one more time. Turning Cynic’s head south, they were soon
lost to sight.

Jeff
flipped the compass open. From what Halric and Gurthwin had said, Jeff knew he
ought to run into a large lake by heading due south. The lake’s discharge
river, he had been told, would lead to the moot grounds. Sighting along the
compass, Jeff wondered how many miles they had left to go. Extending the line
suggested by the compass, Jeff picked out a towering evergreen some miles away
and snapped it shut.

Cynic
had heard the sound so often that he knew it was time to move on, and did so.
Jeff put the compass away, and thought, I don’t really know if we are heading
due south. Sun rises in the east and sets in the west, but who knows how much
magnetic deviation and variation there is? Shrugging philosophically, Jeff
clucked to Cynic and he moved into a canter.

Pushing
south under mostly sunny skies, they enjoyed increasingly balmy temperatures.
Brief but occasionally violent thunderstorms passed from time to time, wild
flowers bloomed in every open space, and meadow grass was lush. They
encountered many deer, grouse, rabbits and other small game. While setting up
camp one evening it became apparent there were also much larger animals about.
Standing next to a tree, Jeff whistled amazement.