Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (75 page)

“Captain,
with prudence our food will suffice for two days.”

Jeff
kicked the snow to cover his anxiety. “Every warrior who can walk will have to
go out again tomorrow, but we can’t expect them to do it on nothing. We’ll
butcher one of the dead horses and give the other to the wolves. You’ll have to
organize the hunt, Helwin. I must find a way to the caravan.”

It
was not easy to leave the burrow next morning. Jeff felt so secure in Helwin’s
arms that he wanted to stay there forever. It was also the last time they could
sleep together. The blizzard was gone, and they were once again captain and
lieutenant. While he was looking at her, Helwin awakened and gazed solemnly into
his eyes.

“Yes.
Duty must be attended to, but not for this last moment.”

Throwing
the furs aside, Helwin opened her thighs and held her arms out. Although weak
from hunger their loving did not suffer. And then, as if their coupling was no
more than a dream, they were dressed and left the burrow they had come to think
of as home for the last time.

Bundled
up in furs, Jeff departed for the caravan with Balko in bright sunshine. Even
Balko’s can-do attitude was hard pressed as they forced a way through snow that
was hip deep in the shallow spots. Plunging along with giant leaps, Balko
disappeared from sight time and again. They plowed a serpentine path around
behemoth drifts and frequently had to backtrack.

The
thought of getting caught out overnight made Jeff’s skin crawl. Not again, he
thought. Once almost killed me. Balko abruptly changed course and took off up a
tall hill that was largely free of snow at the top. Jeff swam after him for a
look.

“So
where is it? Nothing but monster drifts.” His gaze happened across what looked
like a giant mole trail winding south. “Holy shit. That has to be it.”

He
stared in disbelieving awe. Drifts had piled up and over the wains, completely
burying those that had taken the storm’s brunt. Pulling his hat low to reduce the
glare, Jeff watched men toss snow from on top of several wains. Other than a
blue haze from campfires, there was no other sign of activity.

The
broad valley the caravan had been following lay stretched out below. Blinding
white in the sun, it was furrowed by giant drifts that resembled swells created
by an ocean storm. Some met at odd angles, loose snow blowing off their tops
like spindrift. In spite of how hard he had fought to stop the caravan, Jeff
felt sorry for the civilians and horses. He watched the caravan for some time
without being able to identify any of those moving about as the Salchek
commander.

“I
know you’re there, and this is the end of road. Maybe for both of us.”

Feeling
the melancholy of deep winter, his gaze wandered out over a wilderness of snow
that stretched to the horizon. Perhaps it was the pristine splendor of the
valley or the bright clarity of the air that trapped Jeff’s spirit in a tangle
of memories. Or maybe the wind’s song as it moaned a winter requiem that denied
the promise of spring and new life, but offered rest. He lay there as the sun
dropped toward the horizon, staring across the valley without seeing and
listening without hearing.

“Wolf-brother,
attend me! The hour is late!”

Jeff
awoke from his trance to find Balko tugging at his coat. One look to the west
and he tumbled down the hill in a frightened rush. The sun was nearly gone.

“Oh
gods, Please! Not again!”

Balko
went leaping off with prodigious bounds. He was under no illusion that Jeff
could survive a night away from his furs. The path they had cut on the way out
was largely drifted over and in places was entirely gone. Balko found their
trail time and again, but then he could not.

“I
must leave to find our way, wolf-brother. Do not wander from where we stand!”

“I
will await your coming.” Balko porpoised around a drift and was gone.

The
wind shrilled its dirge around dark blue drifts and stars winked into being
until the sky was ablaze with light. Reminded of a glorious sunset far to the
north, Jeff knew he once again stood at the crossroads of life and death. Time
was running out but fear no longer had a hold on him. It had grown tiresome.
Balko would either find the way or he would not. There was no point in calling.
Beginning to shiver, Jeff picked a direction that seemed likely and stepped
out.

At
that instant Balko suddenly reappeared, grinned at him, and leaped back around
the shoulder of a drift. Trying to remain calm but fighting the snow in his
haste, Jeff waded after Balko. Eight or ten drifts later he won through a pass
that was chest deep in snow and walked into camp. He took a deep breath and let
it out in an explosive sigh.

“Where
were you, wolf-brother? I had nearly given up hope.”

Balko’s
ears fell and he radiated embarrassment.

“This
one must confess that undue confidence was amply rewarded.”

“You
went the wrong way.”

“That
is perhaps an overstatement, but does reflect the truth of the matter.”

“I
don’t give a shit.”
Jeff dropped to his knees
. “Come
here.”

Balko’s
ears shot up and he bounded over into Jeff’s arms.
“If my eyes do not
deceive me, I believe we will fill our bellies this night.”

At
least eight wildebeest were being butchered near blazing fires. Hacking out a
big slab of meat for Balko, Jeff wondered where on earth they had managed to find
so many animals and fuel for such large fires. A grinning hunter handed him a
nicely seared hunk of meat. Before tearing into the food, Jeff posed his
questions.

“The
wolves discovered them, Captain.” The hunter pointed east. “Many animals are
wintering in a deep valley not far distant from our camp. Pursuing the animals,
we discovered thick stands of trees.”

“Was
the snow badly drifted in the valley, and did you take note of the grass?”

“While
the snow was deep in some portions, it was not badly drifted. A stream flows
through the valley’s center and likely watered the grass to abundant growth in
the warm season. Thus it should be worthy.”

What
remained of the First Cavalry was packed up and moving early the next morning.
They were down to forty warriors and twenty horses. The horses were so thin and
weak that everyone walked. When they arrived, Jeff discovered the valley was
closer to being a canyon. He halted the column at the top to look it over.

The
canyon was oriented on an east-west axis. That would block the prevailing
winds. Jeff let his eyes feast on the heavy growth of timber that wound out of
sight along the course of the stream at the canyon’s center. They were real
trees and not scrub. He cut the inspection short and started down the slope at
a cautious angle. There was a lot to accomplish before nightfall.

It
was slow, tense work, but they made it to the bottom without setting off an
avalanche. Shortly, the sound of battle-axes put to constructive work echoed
off canyon walls accompanied by enthusiastic songs. The combined effect set a
cornice free to rumble down a sheer canyon wall a safe distance away.

Well
before nightfall, smoke sifted through the roofs of crudely fashioned but
sturdy lodges. Although the stables weren’t much more than elaborate lean-tos,
the horses were out of the wind. With their snouts buried in fragrant piles of
grass, they were content.

Establishing
an outpost near the caravan, they waited three days without a sign of movement
in the caravan. The wind was brisk and the temperature below zero, but their
new campsite was well protected. Hunting was good, forage for the horses proved
adequate, and camp routine settled into a pleasant rhythm of plentiful food and
sleep.

Two
more days and the caravan still showed no sign of activity. They weren’t even
digging out. Seated in their lodge, Jeff disassembled the Ruger for a thorough
cleaning while Helwin looked on.

“Captain,
I am puzzled. Perhaps they are debating what to do?”

“I
have no doubt the civilians are. They’ve lost well over a 100 wains and a lot
of friends. Now they stand to lose everything.”

“They
might decide to winter over.”

“I
suspect that is what their commander is urging them to do, Helwin. He is not a
man to give up.

“That
much is certainly clear!”

“He
is a professional.” Jeff methodically checked each part of the Ruger for dirt.
“I think we’ll see the outcome soon. If they don’t head south in the next few
days they will winter over. I doubt that is going to happen.”

“Of
course. The horses.” Helwin made a quick grab and snagged a piece of the Ruger
that popped from Jeff’s hand. She gave it to him. “They are afraid they will
lose them all.”

“That’s
part of it.” Jeff finished assembling the Ruger and inserted the magazine.
“They are also exhausted and see nothing but more of the same ahead. They’re
right. It’s called a no-win situation.”

“It
is sad.”

“Yes.”
Jeff examined the Ruger for several moments and slipped it into the holster.
“For all of them.”

Next
day a trooper from the outpost charged into camp with news that the caravan was
breaking up.

Jeff
and Helwin provisioned themselves for several days but arrived after dark and
had to live with their curiosity throughout the night. Those on duty at the
outpost reported what appeared to be fighting. Dawn told the story. As they
watched, several wains straggled out of line and wallowed south leaving piles
of cargo behind.

“The
civilians have had enough. They’re saving what they might and abandoning the
rest.”

Throughout
the day, wagon after wagon pulled out. Although no one spotted a mounted
soldier, it appeared that foot soldiers were accompanying the wains. Just like
Napoleon and Hitler’s retreat from Russia, Jeff thought. I wonder how many will
survive? He strained his eyes in an attempt to spot the Salchek commander, saw
several uniforms, but knew with exquisite certainty that the man was dead.

Throughout
a two-day period the portion of the caravan they viewed progressively shrank.
Since the caravan stretched south for many miles and well out of sight, Jeff
and Helwin coursed its length before returning to base camp. The same pattern
prevailed.

They
made no attempt to hide their presence, and on one occasion stood only yards
away as a wain fought through a drift to escape its slot in the line. It was
pulled by four painfully thin horses and was nearly empty. The teamster on the
wagon seat was so exhausted he didn’t even look at them.

“Good
fortune. May the gods see you safely home.”

The
teamster did not respond to the hail, nor did the men and women trudging behind.
Jeff realized he must look equally ragged and exhausted, but felt his heart go
out to them. Heads bent to watch every step, to conserve every shred of energy,
they methodically placed each foot in the wagon tracks.

When
Jeff and Helwin were advised that no sign of life remained in the caravan, they
rousted out the company and set out under frigidly clear skies. The deserted
laager had the eerie quality of a ghost town about it. Splitting his troopers
into teams, Jeff sent them out to make sure. He ordered a wagon broken up for
firewood and it made a cheerful blaze, but there was no cheer.

Teams
straggled into the bivouac until well after dark with the same story. Deserted
wagons, disease and death. Dead horses, dead men, dead women, even dead children.
There was no singing or celebration, just silent groups of warriors staring
into the fire and taking what food they could stomach.

Jeff
had given orders to search the clothing of any body that appeared to be
Salchek. Several teams did run across Salchek lying trampled in blood-soaked
snow, but their pockets revealed nothing except a few letters that might have
been last wishes. Jeff gave them to Helwin for safekeeping. The day might come
when they could turn them over to a Salchek representative.

They
were sitting on a wagon wheel discussing the only positive find of the day,
eight heavy sacks of grain that might go fifty pounds each, when the last team
dragged into camp. The team leader, Wulfern, sat down on the wheel next to Jeff
and handed him a leather bag.

“We
discovered this under the body of a Salchek, Captain.” Jeff extracted a hot
piece of meat from the fire and handed it to Wulfern. “An officer?”

“I
believe this to be so, although I am not familiar with their custom of dress.”
Wulfern stopped chewing and looked deep into the fire. “I am moved, Captain.
While this man was an enemy and outlander, his spirit will be well received by
the gods. I have viewed many faces after death, but recall none that were so
composed and gave the impression of such strength of person.”

No
more words were necessary. Jeff knew who the man was, that his inner conviction
was now fact. And it hurt terribly. He was too tired to find anger, too
distraught for tears, but it hurt terribly.

“Tell
me of his death, for he will be remembered.”