Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (41 page)

“No,
seriously. Where’d you get it?”

“Down
south a ways.” Jeff gave him the background.

“Okay,
it works.” Carl bent over. “Lay on, McDuff, and let the microbes be damned.”

Jeff
was determined not to take advantage of the situation. He did smile at the way
Carl danced around and shouted when he applied the salve.

“Looks
real good, Carl. Too bad your butt didn’t look like this when you mooned the
city guard. You probably would have blinded them as well as pissing them off.”

“Anything
in the service of a good cause.” Carl stood up with a vastly relieved
expression. “I suspect there’s more in that jar than you think, Jeff. You have
the formula?”

“Yep.
Made this batch myself.”

“I’ll
want it the minute I can lay my hands on a stylus. The salve base is good, but
I suspect the active ingredient is the mold.”

“Penicillin?”

“Well,
Jeffrey, you did learn something in school!”

Carl
picked up his underwear and waded into the creek to wash out blood and serum
from the blisters.

“While
I doubt the mold is Penicillium notatum, I’d be willing to bet it produces some
form of antibiotic. Whatever the case, we have a winner and I intend to exploit
it.”

With
summer just over its peak, the night was balmy. Bathed in a warm, fragrant
breeze, they strolled away from camp to get the full effect of the night sky
unhindered by firelight. Carl wore no more than his boots and walked like a
crab to make sure the wind continued to cool his rear end. Although there were
no terran-style grasshoppers, an insect chorus of another sort was in good
voice.

Head
tilted back, Carl tried to comprehend the blazing expanse of stars overhead. “I
wonder where it is. Where Earth is.”

“Yes.
Even after all this time, it still tugs. Nothing much for us there, but it had
so much beauty in it.”

“No,
nothing much at all. I wonder if we’ll ever see it again.”

Days
and nights gradually fused together in a fashion Jeff remembered so well from
his trip south. It was later in the season, however, and the prairie’s rolling
vastness was now covered with grass that was seared golden brown by the sun.
The good weather held and they were blessed with dry, hot days.

While
Carl’s rear end healed within a matter of days, his skin was another matter. He
was quite fair and suffered from the effects of sun and a strong breeze that,
to his mind, was tiresome because it never let up.

Carl’s
riding improved rapidly until sitting a saddle became so natural he stopped
thinking about it. In the process he became very attached to his horse, a
seven-year-old gelding chestnut he had named Sam. Sam was proving to be
sure-footed, showed a good turn of speed in their occasional gallops, and
withstood Cynic’s attempts to bully him with aplomb.

Well
into the second week of their journey, Jeff stopped and unfolded a map Belstan
had given him. Carl watched as Jeff frowned over the map and took a series of
compass bearings.

“How
we doing?”

“I
think we’re in good shape. I’m hoping to find a spur of the forest that dips
south. We should run into it any day now. It’s one of the few landmarks that
really stands out. We’ll cut through the spur, then follow the forest border
all the way to Rugen. Question is, how accurate is this map not to mention the
scale?”

To
his relief, they encountered the forest spur several days later. Near its
southern terminus as they were, the forest proved to be more open than farther
north and offered cool shade. They were well into the forest when Jeff caught a
passing mental image that could mean only one thing. Jeff made sure he had a
good seat and spread an image of a wolf in Cynic’s mind.

“Horse-brother,
have you met these before?”

Cynic
jerked to a halt and his ears swiveled rapidly in tactical radar mode. “Do
these creatures eat horses?”

“Those
we will soon greet are friends and would be offended at such a thought. Others
we happen across must be approached with caution if their bellies are empty.
You are in no danger at this meeting, and I wish for you to speak with ‘Sam’ on
this matter if that may be done.”

Reassured,
Cynic chewed it over. “His mind is better than most. I will try.”

Carl
was lounging in the saddle and whistling when Sam gave a startled jump. Carl
slapped him with the reins.

“Settle
down, nutbrain. What’s gotten into you?”

Turning
his head to hide a smile, Jeff tried to speak casually. “Probably spooked by a
rabbit or something.”

Casting
his mind out like a net, Jeff made contact with one of Balthazar’s pack. The
rest chimed in and he was swamped with enthusiastic greetings. Balthazar’s
symbol flashed into his mind.

“We
are pleased that our brother has managed to retain life and appears to have
prospered. We will come to your fire this night.”

As
the day progressed, Carl started to get suspicious of his friend’s sudden high
spirits. It wasn’t so much that Jeff was in a good mood. That was nice to see.
It was the sly looks followed by bursts of laughter that had him on edge. Jeff
was blandly evasive when questioned, which did nothing to ease Carl’s suspicion
that he was about to be zinged. Toward the end of the day, they spooked a herd
of deer.

“And
away we go!” Jeff thumped Cynic with his heels. “Yee-ha! Sic ‘em, boy!”

Wild
to chase one down, Cynic took off like a shot. Jeff mentally pointed out a buck
and Cynic went to afterburner. Trees whipped by in a blur as they cut right and
left, Cynic leaning like a barrel racer as he herded the buck away from the
other deer.

Sailing
through the air in prodigious leaps, the buck rapidly pulled ahead. An old pro
at the pursuit game, Cynic was undaunted. When the buck accelerated, Cynic dug
into a turn and arrowed off on a tangent. Carl was laughing so hard he almost
fell off when Sam leaped a log trying to keep up.

They
were waiting in deep cover when the buck came sneaking by. Jeff brought it down
with a well-placed arrow and dismounted to butcher it.

“Want
to tell me how in hell you knew that deer was going to pass this spot?”

Jeff
looked up from his task and smiled at Carl’s bemused expression. “I didn’t, but
I learned long ago that Cynic almost always does. That horse is an artist.
First he separates the one I select from the herd, then picks a spot he figures
the deer will pass trying to rejoin. It’s uncanny.”

As
Jeff packed up section after section of venison, Carl’s suspicion that he was
going to be zinged grew by leaps and bounds. It wasn’t only the amount of meat
that got his attention, but the grin on Jeff’s face. He’d seen that grin
before.

It
was getting late so they made camp near a stream. When Jeff laid out all of the
venison he had just packed, Carl knew he was in for it. Suspicion had given way
to a certain degree of frank paranoia when he walked over and glared at Jeff.

“What
on earth are we going to do with so much meat? And don’t feed me any bullshit!”

Jeff
smiled innocently as he put steel and flint to work on tinder. “Oh, I’m sure
we’ll find some use for it.”

Kicking
a rock, Carl walked off muttering to himself. From prior experience, he figured
it was going to be a major hit. Then he smiled and chuckled, remembering some
of the setups he had lured Jeff into.

Later,
when Jeff set hunks of venison over the fire to roast, Carl brushed his
suspicions aside for the moment. This was something new. He hung over Jeff’s
shoulder with endless questions until nothing would do but to give him a turn
handling the spits.

They
ate more than they should have, but it felt good to have really full bellies
and they lounged around the fire in a relaxed stupor. It was a cheerful cocoon
of light, one that played endless variations on the leaves overhead. Jeff
pulled out his recorder for the first time since leaving Astholf and attempted
to match the fire’s dancing rhythm.

While
he played, memories of his trip to Valholm from the snowfields filled his
thoughts. All of that trip’s loneliness and sorrow were now softened by the
image of Zimma that glimmered in his mind.

Some
time later he was startled from his reverie by a gasp from Carl and snorting,
stamping dismay from the horses. Jeff urgently motioned Carl to sit down with a
downward sweep of his arm. One after another, eighteen wolves trotted into the
firelight and sat down in a semicircle of three ranks. Lord almighty, Jeff
thought, I’d forgotten how big they are.

“May
your pack prosper, mighty leader of comedians.”

Balthazar
was taken back not at all by what he fathomed to be Jeff’s attempt at humor.

“We
are well met, wolf-brother. From that which is clearly marked in your mind, we
are aware that much has occurred since last we spoke. Will you share your
experiences with this one more fully?”

Jeff
turned to Carl with a smile. “Worth being zinged?” Carl responded with a
silent, wide-eyed nod. “Keep an eye on the horses, will you? I’ve got a lot to
talk about with Balthazar.”

“Sure,
be glad to,” Carl replied, “but who’s going to keep an eye on me?”

“They’re
something else, all right.” Jeff turned his attention to Balthazar.
“I would
be pleased to recount what has occurred, wolf-brother. While we speak, will you
and your pack share our kill?”

“We
thank you for such courtesy, wolf-brother. Our way has been long with little
time to hunt.”
 

The
wolves with Balthazar immediately arose, each expressing their thanks before
beginning to eat. Carl watched in amazed silence. There was no growling or
squabbling like he would expect from a pack of wolves on earth.

“If
only I were telepathic,” Carl murmured with great longing. “What wonderful
creatures.” When a pack member dropped a big piece of venison in front of
Balthazar, Carl could do no more than shake his head in disbelief.

While
Balthazar ate, Jeff recounted the last several months culminating with their
discovery of the Salchek and subsequent evacuation to Astholf. When he had
finished, Jeff sat back and clasped his knees.

“As
suspected,”
Balthazar commented, grooming himself,
“the
invaders have returned and war will soon be on this land again. We conclude you
and yours have come to prepare?”

“It
is so.”

Jeff
proceeded to lay out their plans for the coming season and years to follow. As
they talked, Jeff got the strong impression that other forces were present in
Balthazar’s mind. At the end of Jeff’s narrative, the wolf turned his head
toward Carl.

“This
is your packmate?”
Jeff affirmed that fact
. “May we
speak to this one’s mind? We are aware that it is not ‘Carl’s’ habit to so
speak, yet possibilities may lie buried that none suspect such as with your
companion, ‘Cynic’.”

“I
will present this to him.”

Carl
was studying the wolves so intently that Jeff had to jog his elbow to get his
attention.

“Balthazar
there, the big one in the middle, wants to see if you have latent talent that
might be developed. I personally believe you do.”

“Yes!
Absolutely! I would like nothing better!” Carl’s excited expression quickly
faded. “As long as there’s no big risk that he might burn out my brain in
trying, that is. It ain’t much, but it works.”

Nodding
agreement with a smile, Jeff reconnected with Balthazar
. “While eager to
discover if talent exists, my packmate is concerned that no damage occur in the
exploring.”

“A
request that will be honored. As you have correctly surmised, we will have
assistance in this matter. Advise your packmate that some suffering will be
unavoidable. Have ‘Carl’ indicate when he is ready to begin.”

“Now
look, Carl,” Jeff said with a worried expression, “it sounds like this is not
going to be a painless procedure—my first contact certainly wasn’t—although
Balthazar assures me no damage will be done. Problem is, I have no idea how
wolves judge the severity of pain. I’m afraid their threshold might be a lot
higher than ours. Still want to go ahead with it?”

“Yeah,
definitely,” Carl responded after a moment’s hesitation. “No pain, no gain,
they used to say. I will not pass this up. What do I have to do?”

“Just
relax and open your mind as much as you can. When you’re ready, raise your
hand.”

Closing
his eyes and breathing deeply, Carl raised an arm. Almost immediately, his body
jerked spasmodically and froze in muscular rigidity. Within a brief span, sweat
began to bead up on his forehead and his face paled.

Although
he trusted Balthazar implicitly, Jeff became concerned as minutes passed and
Carl remained frozen. Muscles bunched around his jaw stood out like ropes, and
sweat ran in rivulets from his face. Every so often, agonized groans escaped
his lips. As concern was growing to outright alarm, Carl relaxed and fell over
on his side with a thump.