Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (76 page)

“Yes,
Captain, this must be so.” Wulfern took another bite. His eyes, sunken orbs in
dark circles of fatigue and starvation, shimmered with what remained of
remorse. “His body was not defiled, for he died by his own hand. While this is
not our way, I believe he did so to sustain honor and not fail of his duty. The
pouch was hidden under his body.” Wulfern shook his head in denial and wiped at
his eyes. “Will you share its contents with us?”

“I
will do this, but you must understand that I do not have understanding of
Salchek writing.”

Wulfern
collected his team, and others drew near to be part of a ritual of passage that
would honor courage. The pouch was lined with silken material of lavender and
contained packets of letters in Salchek script. At the bottom, Jeff discovered
a smaller pouch. Inside was a single sheet of parchment bedded on shredded leaf
that looked like tobacco. He unrolled the sheet and extracted a curved-stem
pipe.

“Oh,
goddam this war to hell,” and the tears did come.

Jeff
held the pipe up for all to see. “This was his totem, this speaks of the man.”
Murmurs of assent rumbled around the troop while Jeff tried to focus on the
sheet of parchment. It was composed in the language of Chaldesia. “Now you will
hear his last words.

“‘Greetings
from Lingol Bollit, Tlakish. I have come to respect you as soldier, thus the
man, and trust these letters to your safekeeping. My family must know I died
with honor. The gods understand what we do, I do not, yet duty is complete. Now
fill my gomwok with sindar weed and offer smoke to the winds that a better life
be opened to my spirit, but do not then cast it aside. I would be pleased to
know that this part of me continues. I am saddened that we did not meet in
better times, for we would have been friends. May you survive this war.’” Jeff
folded the letter and inserted it into a breast pocket along with the pipe and
pouch.

Ripping
a sideboard off a wagon, he threw it on the bonfire. “Let us sing for his
spirit.”

The
troop opened their hearts and sang for Lingol Bollit, sang for all who had
died, sang for themselves. Jeff filled the pipe with sindar weed and set a red
coal on top to light it. It was not tobacco, did not smell or taste like
tobacco, but it did not matter.

The
Song for the Dead filled his heart as he drew a deep lungful of smoke and
exhaled slowly. A brilliant shooting star flashed overhead from zenith to
horizon, and he knew Lingol Bollit was at rest.

“How
many days march do you calculate we must travel, Captain?”

Jeff
concentrated on pulling a bone needle through tired leather. He tugged the
stitch down and tied it off inside.

“If
it were summer and we were riding well-fed horses, perhaps three weeks to Rugen
as the bird flies. Afoot as we are in deep snow, we must first make our way to
the forest well south of Rugen. There we will rest and hunt before following
its border northwest. I estimate that trek alone will require four weeks. Let
us pray to the gods that it snows no more during that time.”

“Let
me hold it.”

Helwin
took the jacket Jeff was repairing and held the torn seam together so he could
start a new line of stitches. They sat side by side in the small lodge, one
lighted by a tallow candle and a fire that flickered over spent fuel.
Wildebeest hides floored the lodge, and beds of fur were placed close to the
firepit on either side. Helwin released the jacket after the third stitch and
idly tossed twigs into the fire.

“The
last hunting party reported that game was scarce. We must leave soon.”

“As
soon as possible. Troops ready?”

“Yes
sir. The horses have gained enough strength to carry our food and theirs, but
fuel will journey on our own backs. I have had the wood tightly bound to ease
the burden.”

“Good
thinking.” Jeff cut the thread free and laid the jacket aside. “Sleep well,
Helwin.”

“And
you, Jeffrey.” Helwin held her lips up and they shared a kiss full of memories.

There
were more than a few backward glances as the troop crested surrounding hills
and headed north early one morning. The canyon had come to be viewed as home.
Jeff was too preoccupied with the welfare of their horses to spare more than a
quick look. Work as they might, they had been able to collect only a modest
volume of tightly bundled grass and that decomposing.

Four
hundred pounds of grain wasn’t much when spread around twenty horses, but he
hoped it would make the difference. Wading through the snow beside Cynic, Jeff
sighed and patted his neck, relieved that they had any grain at all.

The
weather remained clear and below zero for the first week, the snow was crusted
hard, and they made good progress north. Then a moist frontal system from the
south met the high-pressure cell and it began to snow. No blizzards, just
relentless heavy snowfall.

Days
were reduced to sodden misery as clothing became soaked, and nights to shaking
nightmares that never seemed to end. Day by day they edged north, taking turns
breaking trail through snow that was often chest deep. Food for man and horse
rapidly dwindled, and the last faggots of wood were burned.

Somewhere
along one of those interminable days, Jeff bumped into the horse ahead of him.
The horse was so weak it didn’t even flinch. Jeff stared at its tail and
wondered why it was there. It slowly dawned on him that the line had stopped
and something must be wrong. He waded to the head of the line leading Cynic.
There he found a sobbing warrior trying to get her horse off its knees.

“My
friend, can you be of any help with this one?”

“He
has struggled long and is of good heart, but has no more to give his master. It
is his time to lie down and rest. He is very sad to leave us.”

Stricken
by Cynic’s comment, Jeff tried to get the horse up but to no avail. Liquid
brown eyes filled with sad resignation and regret, the horse lay down on a bed
of snow and was still.

“May
I use your knife, Captain?”

Jeff
handed the survival knife to Elke. “Would you rather that I did this?”

“No,
Captain. Storm was my friend. His spirit has been freed, now he would wish for
me to share what remains with us all.”

Two
more times a horse lay down, and three warriors did not awaken from a night’s
sleep. Each time a horse died, the warrior who cared for him butchered the
animal and distributed the meat. No one suggested that the rest of the horses
be killed. To them, it would be the same thing as murder. Since the blizzard,
troopers no longer viewed the horses as beasts of burden.

Through
it all, Cynic endured with stoic determination. On more than one occasion Jeff
was reduced to helpless profanity as he watched his companion grow weaker and
so thin he seemed no more than a collection of bones loosely draped with hide.

They
stumbled into the forest late one afternoon. By Jeff’s reckoning the trip had
required nearly five weeks. Stronger warriors supported others who could not
walk by themselves. There was no strength left for cheers or chatter. Scraping
together the last handfuls of grain, troopers fed the horses and lighted
bonfires.

Having
made his rounds to check horses and sleeping warriors, Jeff huddled over a fire
with Helwin. Her eyes were sunken, and cheekbones stood out like blades.

“We
will remain here until all are rested, Helwin. Tomorrow we must send everyone
out to hunt. Deer should be plentiful, but finding food for the horses is going
to be difficult. If we do not find food we will lose them all.”

“My
heart is deeply moved by their plight. They are most courageous.”

“Yes,
but let me tell you something—without your courage we wouldn’t have made it.
I’m quite sure I would not have made it.”

Helwin
looked at Jeff solemnly, and thought, He is so thin it seems I might see the
stars through his body. Where does he find the strength to lead us? My captain
and my friend… Helwin felt something else at that moment, but hurriedly brushed
it away.

“Our
spirits are one, Jeffrey. I no longer think of us in any other fashion. I do
not understand this. It surpasses, is not, what I know of men and women
together. I am most fortunate to have served under you.”

Tired
though he was, Jeff quickly looked down to hide a grin. Helwin realized what
she had said and laughed quietly.

“As
you would say, Jeffrey, ouch!”

They
fell silent, content to share the fire and new hope. Helwin’s eyes drifted to
Jeff’s face, trying to fathom what she was feeling. Why now? she thought. Why
do I become aware of this now, with safety and hope only short miles away?
Surely he must leave me.

She
examined a bony hand and smiled. How strangely does fate beckon desire. Nigh
unto death from starvation and still I would know his body. Helwin nodded to
herself. Soon you will be lost to me, Jeffrey, but tonight you are mine.

Helwin
got to her feet and pulled him up as well. “Let us give added meaning to what
has been said, and what we have accomplished. Soon we will return to Rugen and,
perhaps, separate destinies. If your spirit and body are willing, I would
cherish what has been ours.”

Jeff
said nothing for a period while he reflected on all they had been through
together. Searching his heart Jeff did not find passionate love, rather another
form that loomed larger and could not be separated from what he was. Fellow
officer, confident, trusted friend, lover and something else that encompassed
them all but went far beyond.

“I
can think of no more wonderful memorial to these last seven months.” Jeff
pulled her head down so he could touch lips. “I do not understand my body, only
that it would taste of you. Let us discover whether it is capable of such.”

Leading
Helwin to his bed, Jeff removed her overcoat. Lifting her woolen undershirt, he
paused to feel her breasts and test their weight. They were much smaller but
also firmer, and in shape gave no evidence of surrender. So like the woman.
With a sense of deep satisfaction, he kissed each nipple in turn.

She
held her arms up to the moon while he did so, singing softly. When Helwin stood
exposed and gleaming in the moonlight, she was smiling into his eyes.

The
wolf packs had been hunting the forest for over a week before the war party
arrived. Seeing no reason to expose Balko to what he knew the troop must
endure, Jeff had sent him on ahead with Balthazar’s pack. Balko and Heideth
charged into camp early the first morning after the troop arrived in the
forest. When they discovered that Jeff and Cynic had survived, they cavorted
like cubs.

Throughout
the stay, fires were kept burning day and night. Large herds of deer were
wintering in the forest and hunting was good. Although Cynic was familiar with
edible plants in the forest, it was winter. However, spring was not far off and
new shoots were starting to bud.

After
a round of cautious tasting, Cynic discovered that a number of the buds were
quite pleasing. These were harvested along with several varieties of tender
bark that were palatable. While not prime fodder, the bark filled the belly and
had some food value.

When
troopers and horses had recovered enough to travel, Helwin mustered what was
left of the company. She and Jeff looked them over closely during inspection.
As they walked along the line of troopers and horses, Jeff sighed internally.
They have been through so much, he thought, yet will give whatever is left. He
dismissed the troops and wished for a way to thank the horses. Jeff and Helwin
walked into the forest to find some privacy.

“Well,
Lieutenant, what do you think?”

Unexpectedly,
Helwin grinned. “I think they’re keepers, Captain. While still tired, they’re
ready to march.”

Jeff
smiled at how well she used English slang, and was impressed all over again at
her resilience. His smile softened, remembering. Although desire had required
little encouragement, starvation had taken a toll on his body. It was only with
Helwin’s gentle seduction that his body could do nothing but respond. So like
Magda, uniquely Helwin.

“I
agree they’re ready to march. What other questions must we ask before
departure?”

“These
are the additional questions that must be asked, Captain: what is the state of
the siege, and are the remains of our company capable of fighting.”

“As
usual, I agree with your thinking. The first question strongly influences the
second and that first question cannot be answered at this point. Given that,
how would you proceed?”

“Cautiously,
Jeffrey, for the answer to the second question is—not a chance.”

“No
doubt about that. Until the troop has rested for some months I will not expose
them to combat unless the need is dire.”

“Yes
sir. Cannot you employ your gift for speaking mind to mind? Perhaps you might
range Lords Carl or Gaereth.”

Jeff
shook his head. “The distance is still too great.”