Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (52 page)

Deeply
buried within the roiling matrix of Jeff’s conflict was the image of a human.
Instinctively, Heideth knew the image to be female and important to Jeff’s
life. There was such a desperate sense about the image that Heideth reached out
a mental hand to pull it to the surface.

“Tell
us of this female, wolf-brother. She of the red fur. Is this one a worthy
packmate? Will she join us?”

Jeff
felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. A picture of
Zimma flared to near reality, and he dropped the piece of venison he was
holding. She seemed to be crying and held her arms out to him. He immediately
sensed Heideth’s intervention and something snapped, letting loose a torrent of
anger that had been building for months.

Raising
his head, a howl of savage fury burst from his throat. It came again and again
until it was more a shriek than a howl. He whirled on Heideth with bared teeth.

“Am
I your wolf-brother or not?”

Heideth
crouched down and felt the ruff along her back stir at the fury in Jeff’s
thought.

“We
are one. I am not separate from you.”

“Then
why do you turn on me! Will you attempt to impose your will on me, too?”

Heideth
found Jeff’s question totally confusing. Her human referents were simply
unequal to the task. She mentally bowed.

“My
life is yours.”

Snarling
under his breath, Jeff stalked out of camp. He found a hilltop free of trees to
the south and stood motionless. Had anyone other than a wolf passed by, they
would have taken no note other than to remark on the odd formation.

Some
miles away, a hunting party from Valholm crowded around a fire throwing wood on
at a rapid clip. The howling they had heard was like nothing in experience, but
called dreadful tales to mind.

“And
have we, then, heard the Ruckthor?”

The
woman who spoke, a youngster on probation to the hunting team, had tried to
pose the question in a casual fashion. The way she gripped the shaft of her
spear argued otherwise.

Turning
her back to the fire, Gerta tried to pierce the darkness. “What do you know of
the Ruckthor, Bernik?”

“Little
of worth, my leader.”

“That
is correct. You are no longer a child. Reserve childhood tales for your own
family if you should be so blessed.”

Accepting
the reproof as her due, Bernik bowed. Inside, Gerta knew she had been too
severe.

“Never
forget the call, Bernik, for the beast which proclaims this anger has not been
heard or named. But enough—Walther and Henretta, you will stand first…

Soaring
high, an utterly desolate wail struck them to the quick. Gerta held her spear
at guard but knew she was defenseless, for the Ruckthor lived on.

“Oh
gods, preserve us this night,” she whispered.

It
came again and again, growing in strength until warriors would have fled had it
not been for pride and loyalty. In the end, the last wail faded in a forlorn
diminuendo that left them bereft.

Spring
thaw hit with a vengeance. Most of the snow was gone, and what remained was no
more than slush. It was time to abandon the sled that had served them so well.
Gratefully dropping its traces for the last time, Jeff packed up what could be
carried.

Valholm
was several long walks away when they encountered the first villager. Poised to
run, he stared at them as they drew closer. Although Gerta’s tale had inflamed
superstition in Valholm to critical mass, it was daylight and his legs had
never failed him. At the moment, Hafnor was quite sure he could fly. He feared
demons, suspected treachery, hoped for the gods, but was rooted in place by
subliminal recognition.

Balko
was on the point as usual. That’s where the action was. Jeff was the only
two-leg he had seen, and the one drawing closer was quite intriguing. He was
considering a tentative dash to see if the two-leg would run when the stranger
let out a startled cry and raced north. Balko watched him skim over the ground
with considerable admiration.

Some
distance back, Jeff thought, And so it starts. If Zimma means so much to me,
why do I feel so mixed up about returning? Heideth and Balko are more committed
to following through than I am. The thought of Heideth made him cringe with
shame. How do I make it up to her? I had no right to question her loyalty, but
she was totally justified in questioning mine. A loving thought intruded.

“We
are one. I am content.”
 

On
the day they were to enter Valholm, villagers streamed out to meet them. A wolf
pacing on either side, Jeff stalked along head swinging back and forth. When
someone got too close his lips flickered up and down in warning. It was the
automatic warning response of a wolf, and he was not consciously aware of his
behavior.

Such
was the effect that the warriors kept their distance. Wolves were never to be
taken lightly, but Jeff’s savage behavior and appearance were in the twilight
zone of experience. They were inclined to believe the gods were at work, but
like Hafnor weren’t entirely sure.

Old
friends of Jeff’s muttered to one another and began a slow chant as they
marched along. Warrior after warrior picked up the measured cadence and clashed
spears against shields between stanzas. Rising and falling in stately rhythm,
the chorus found its heart and flowed over meadow and forest.

When
the procession arrived at the meeting hall, the area was packed with people.
There were many that Jeff did not recognize. Gurthwin stood in front of the
hall supported by his staff, Halric at his side. The chorus swelled to a mighty
shout and stopped.

Gurthwin
advanced a step. “Your return brings joy to our hearts, Jeffrey. Long have we
feared for your safety during winter’s cold.”

Villagers
pressed close so they wouldn’t miss anything and one of them stumbled into
Jeff’s back. He whirled with raised lips and a snarl that rumbled from deep in
his chest. The man, well known in the village for crowding to the front of any
line, leaped backward with a terrified oath. Balko didn’t like his looks and
jumped at him with exposed fangs, completing the rout.

When
the space that opened up was satisfactory, Jeff held his arms out for silence.
He opened his mouth to speak. The words were there in his mind, but what came
out was a growl. Those closest to him pushed back farther with wide eyes. Anger
at what had been asked of him, anger at himself for having come down from the
mountains, anger at the Alemanni reaction exploded in a howl that raged up the
scale.

The
circle of villagers surged backward with frightened cries of warning. The
crowd’s response goaded Balko to make a dash at them, and a section of the ring
broke and ran. Superstition blowing intellect to tatters, Gurthwin gripped his
staff with both hands to control his shaking body.

“Wolf-brother,
we must not fail at this pass!”

Heideth’s
thought knifed through Jeff’s anger. He clamped his mouth shut but for
occasional rumbles and called Balko to his side. Forcing himself to stand still
instead of constantly turning in search of threat, Jeff formed a sentence. The
first words had a rasping quality, but word by word Jeff sounded more human.

“Our
travels have been most perilous, taking us to the gates of death. Yet the task
has been accomplished.” Balko and Heideth were pressed against either hip as he
glared around at the crowd. “Let it be known to all present that we three are
one. Whatever is thought of my brother and sister is thought of me, and whoever
threatens their welfare threatens mine to their own great peril. This I
oath-swear!” Partially choking back a snarl, Jeff looked around the crowd
daring anyone to challenge him.

Gurthwin
was shaken to the core and struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. What
had the gods done to this man? Have we driven him to this? Comparing Jeff’s
savage appearance with earlier memories, goose bumps ran up his arms. Surely he
will destroy himself or lead us all.

“Let
there be silence!” Halric raised his arms to quiet the shouts of approval. “Let
it be known to all that I, Halric, from this time forward do accept Jeffrey
Friedrick’s brother and sister as kin, like unto my blood. Whatsoever is done
to their gain is done to mine, and that which is done to their peril will be
answered by my arm and those of my household.”

The
crowd responded with a shield-banging roar that startled Heideth and Balko.
Gurthwin stepped forward.

“Is
it not the manner of wolf folk to speak mind to mind?”

Following
Jeff’s nod, Gurthwin addressed the wolves
. “You are welcome to this village
and all that is in it. Our leader has now accepted you as brother and sister to
his pack. We are one.”

Heideth’s
reply was to the point.
“We are gratified, and will do what we may to serve
the One.”

Announcing
that a Telling would take place the next evening, Halric entered the meeting
hall. Gurthwin trailed after Halric, followed in turn by Jeff and the wolves.
Jeff took a seat next to Gurthwin.

“How
is it that you understand the manner of speaking with wolves?”

“When
no more than a youth, I once happened across a pack in my wanderings.” The
crow’s-feet around Gurthwin’s eyes crinkled in amusement, and he shook his head
in remembrance. “Well it was that I quickly learned to turn my mind to their
way, for they were not friendly!” Gurthwin took a moment to examine Jeff’s face
in an effort to fathom the changes. “Before we discuss what has occurred here,
will you share your journey?”

Why
should I? Jeff pondered. I have done what was asked of me. Must I share
everything? As visions of the mountains’ winter beauty flashed through Jeff’s
mind, low growls and whines escaped his lips. Heideth padded over to look into
his eyes, golden-green into golden-green. Gurthwin shivered anew and pulled his
furs tighter.

“It
is time to share what we have experienced and learned, wolf-brother. The winter
was ours. Now it must be theirs also.”

Jeff
put his arms around Heideth and lay his head alongside hers. The feral gleam in
his eyes faded.

“Your
counsel gives strength and resolve. They shall have the greater part. You must
never leave me, wolf-sister.”

“We
are one.”
Heideth sat down by his side.

Grudgingly,
Jeff recounted the winter’s journey. “…While I do not know how many will come,
enthusiasm ran high and seemed sincere for the greater part.”

“You
have shared what is important to our need,” Halric observed, “but I warrant
much remains untold. I anticipate its hearing, for the great cold of this
winter chilled our hearts for your welfare. But that must wait for Telling on
the morrow.” Halric and Gurthwin related their doings in Jeff’s absence.

Valholm’s
messengers had been well received, and warriors from nearby tribes were pouring
into Valholm. Smiths had also come to assist in the forging of weapons, and
were stockpiling a vast store of arrow and lance heads.

“While
last summer’s harvest was bountiful and hunting has been good,” Halric opined,
“we must soon begin our journey south lest food become scarce. It would have
pleased me to hear from the great city that provender awaits us at the moot
grounds, but winter snows were deep and I am not troubled.”

“Nor
am I,” Jeff agreed. “All must soon leave for the south. Let us share our minds
on how we are to accomplish this.”

What
followed for the rest of the evening was a discussion of all the details
involved in moving six hundred souls over a hundred miles south to the moot
grounds. When they broke up, Jeff hurried to the stable. Cynic was leaning
against the side of his stall, half asleep.

“Goofing
off again, I see.”

Cynic
lurched away from the stall, stared at Jeff for an instant, let out a piercing
squeal and reared. The stable roof was low and solid. Cynic’s head cracked into
a thick beam. After things settled down and they had exchanged a bit of gossip,
Jeff sounded him out regarding the wolves.

“We
are now four, having a new wolf-sister and brother. May I bring them to you in
the morning?”

“I
have heard their thoughts and trust they might become friends. I will speak
with them.”

On
their way to meet Cynic next morning, Balko and Heideth wandered from one
interesting point to the next. The village seethed with activity, and Jeff
spent considerable time answering the wolves’ amazed questions.

Rather
than cause equine riot in the stable, he left them near the edge of the village
and went to fetch Cynic. When they saw him coming, Heideth and Balko jumped to
their feet in astonishment. Balko was so excited he was springing up and down.

“What
manner of creature are you?”

Staring
down his long snout at Balko, Cynic’s thoughts were amused
. “Two-legs term
my kind, ‘horses’. While this name is most unsatisfactory, I fear it must be
borne. We are swift of foot and mighty in battle, but only rarely do I find a
two-leg that appreciates the full extent of our merit.”