Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (51 page)

Throwing
her coat to a friend, Villka gripped her battle-ax and leaped at Jeff with a
mighty swing sufficient to fell a good-sized tree. At seventeen, and in the
absence of war, Jeff thought it likely that Villka would be inexperienced. Her
swing was badly timed and he simply skipped back a step and let it whistle by.
The battle-ax’s momentum carried it high over her left shoulder leaving Villka
exposed. She knew she was dead, but Jeff did no more than give his head a
disgusted shake.

“Your
technique is terrible. You attack a Salchek like that and he’d spill your guts.
Come in slow with short swings.”

Regaining
her balance if not her confidence, Villka attacked again only to have Jeff duck
the blow.

“I
said, don’t rush in!”

With
fluid grace, Jeff thrust lightly. The sword point penetrated her skin by no
more than a fraction of an inch. A blood spot appeared on Villka’s leather
shirt and began to spread.

“Do
you want to die in the first battle? The Salchek are mighty warriors!”

Some
time later Villka was panting hard and her clothing had collected several more
spots of blood. She had also learned caution. Shuffling around Jeff to keep her
balance, attacking with short swings that did not leave her exposed, Villka
searched for an opening.

“Much
better. Do you want to continue, or shall we stop and work on becoming
friends?”

Stepping
back, Villka set the head of her axe on the ground and leaned on the handle.
Taking several deep breaths, she threw her head back and laughed.

“I
would be friends. Either that or I will have to make new clothing.” She took a
long stride toward Jeff and they clasped arms. “I was wrong to doubt your
courage. You could have killed me at the outset.”

The
chieftain and Mellia approached. “My name is Therkan. Who are the Salchek?”

“They
have returned. The Iron-shirts of legend have returned and march north.”

Many
villagers voiced angry exclamations and war cries; others called for more
information. Therkan gestured for silence and glanced at his mother, Mellia.

“Forgive
me for doubting your teachings.”

“We
have been separated from our brethren far too long, my son. Now it is time to
come together in defense of this land.”

“We
shall. Let us consider what must be done.”

He
stepped into the hall followed by Mellia and a number of elders. On his way
inside, Jeff sent a thought to Heideth and Balko.

“All
is well. Return to our den. I will call when next the sun rises.”

Two
days later, Jeff took his leave. The village of Helstor, as reported, was
definitely warlike. The smithy and his assistants were sweating over the forge
while a long line of customers clamored to be waited on. Older warriors were
supervising weapons drill. Archers had departed in search of material for new
bows and arrows. Hunters gathered with the elders to discuss how much food they
would have to carry on the long march ahead of them. The village was a beehive
of activity, the mood, jubilant.

Mellia
and Therkan accompanied Jeff to the outskirts of Helstor. Many warriors stopped
to say good-by then hurried on their way. There was a war to get ready for, and
time was short.

As
they trudged up the hill toward the forest, Jeff asked Mellia, “Will you
accompany the war party?”

Therkan
smiled. The Alarai had just put his foot in it. Mellia shot Jeff a look that
fairly sizzled with indignation.

“Of
course I am! Do you imagine I would miss such an opportunity? Do you consider
me too elderly?”

Stopping
under an evergreen at the forest verge, Jeff studied Mellia with great
satisfaction. What a woman, he thought. This whole village has such fire, and
she’s responsible for a great deal of it.

“Thank
you, Jeffrey. Were I some years younger, you would never leave us.”

“And
I deeply regret having to do so now. Rarely have I had such pleasure as that
afforded by the last two days. We will meet in the south.”

Jeff
called it a day when he caught himself searching for a good spot to cross the
river and continue west. It didn’t seem possible that his mission had come to
an end. He could go home.

The
thought of returning to Valholm was exciting, but he had to strain in order to
recall images of the village and Rugen. The only person who really stood out
was Gurthwin. Jeff was disturbed that his picture of Zimma lacked substance.

“It’s
really time to get back, and I’m going to have to hustle to make it by spring.”

Whittling
on a stick to occupy his hands, Jeff debated routes.

Although
he had no map, the terrain he had crossed and viewed from high altitude was
fixed in his mind. Over preceding months he had developed a sixth sense for
direction and location that rarely failed him. While Jeff didn’t know where
Valholm was in terms of coordinates, he knew exactly how to get there. Yet it
wasn’t an easy decision.

Fastholm
was on the most direct route, but Jeff was troubled about Zimma. It had been
nine months since they parted, and her image was vague. On the other hand, he
could almost reach out and touch Magda.

“I
can’t do it. I cannot return by way of Fastholm. I’d never leave until they
trekked south.”

Tossing
the stick into the fire, Jeff walked down to the river. Maybe that would help
clear his head. Frozen solid, the Skola was humped with pressure ridges and
tumbled ice blocks.

“Looks
about the way I feel,” he muttered. After a period he shook his head and
returned to camp. “Zimma will always be first.”

In
the end Jeff decided to return by making a loop to the southeast and nip around
the lakes, leaving a short leg to the northeast. As far as he knew the route
was uninhabited, but that had ceased to be of concern. The wilderness, wherever
he happened to be in it, was home.

Days
then weeks passed as Jeff, Heideth and Balko worked there way southeast. Never
out of mental contact with one another, they hunted together, ate together, and
slept together. Living in each other’s minds, speech was unnecessary and Jeff
fell silent for days on end. Over time he ceased to speak at all.

Sharing
their dreams, he saw lands that called to his imagination and creatures that
myth would never consider. In the absence of human contact, Jeff became wolf in
spirit. The process was slow at first but rapidly accelerated as three minds
meshed into a single entity, the One.

Gradually
he stopped thinking about his mission, Fastholm or even Rugen and all they
contained for him. Jeff maintained his course to the southeast only because
that was as good a direction as any. His mind continued to open until it was
aware of the whole land; that it was alive and could be understood if he
listened. There was no future or past, just an all-encompassing present, and he
found peace.

As
items of clothing wore out, Jeff patched them with crude swatches cut from deer
hide. His hair had grown long, and a full beard flowed onto his chest. Nights
he bedded down in the open. Wrapped in the wolverine pelt, he curled up with
Heideth and Balko to share warmth and dreams in another land.

During
the day Jeff began calling to them in growls, and in camp with a broad range of
softer sounds. Then, one clear moonlit night high on a mountain flank, he
joined his voice to Heideth and Balko’s as they gazed over a silver-clad
valley, all three singing their joy.

Drawing
near Lake Elva late in March, they encountered a pack of wolves working north
as temperatures moderated. The meeting was not unexpected. All three had been
aware for some days that a pack was coming their way.

It
was a sunny, warmish day, and the meadow they were crossing showed signs of
spring thaw. The snow was heavily crusted, rotten, and channeled by rivulets of
water. Jeff had his head down to survey each step lest he break an ankle when
Heideth called a warning. He looked up to be confronted by a pack of wolves at
the meadow’s opposite border.

Jeff
stopped at a comfortable distance and politely greeted them. Heideth was not
familiar with the pack, so they stayed close together in case of attack. A
large male was seated a few feet in front of the main group of wolves.

“We
greet you, and hope that all fares well with the pack. We are unused to such as
we now see, and wonder greatly.”

The
leader’s curiosity and that of his pack fairly sizzled in Jeff’s mind. The fact
that the pack seemed friendly was a great relief, but what was he to say? He
tried to remember what he had set out to do. What he was. Jeff had not thought
about his mission for so long that it seemed a fantasy.

Yet
he had given the Telling so many times that it was deeply embedded in memory
and could not be extinguished in a matter of months. It came to mind in bits
and pieces, then in big chunks. He shook his head and growled trying to stop
the flow of memories, but could not. Haltingly, Jeff recounted the intent of
his winter mission. By the time he finished, a degree of humanity had won a
precarious existence.

“During
the long storms of deep winter, such tales as you relate have been oft
repeated. May this one view your head fur? That which is displayed on your face
has aroused great interest.”

It
was an irritating request. He was tired of having to show his hair, tired of
the Alemanni, tired of everything. Jeff thought about shaving his head.
Snarling frustration, he shook out hair that fell to the middle of his back.
The pack stirred with interest at the sight.

“Ah,
it is even as you say. We are deeply troubled by the news you bring of southern
invaders, for tales of their ferocity have not been forgotten. We must think on
this matter and take counsel.”
The pack leader’s
gaze shifted from Jeff to Heideth.
“Your path will soon bring you among many
two-legs of the yellow hair. Your she and yearling may join our pack if that is
their desire, for we see much merit in them
.”

Heideth
mentally bowed to the leader and moved closer to Jeff.
“Your offer is
gracious, but our pack, while small, has great virtue. We are one and will not
see it broken.”
Balko’s response was equally rapid and to the same effect.

Bowing
his respect in turn, the leader rose to his feet.
“We admire the strength of
your pack. Now we must part. Be assured that what you have said will be given
grave consideration and retold to those we meet on our journey. Farewell, but
we may meet again in the south.”

Over
succeeding weeks, Balko continued to grow and fill out until his size surpassed
even Balthazar’s. Wondering at his heritage, Jeff spoke to Heideth.

“Your
offspring grows large. Was it so with his sire?”

“His
sire was the leader of this one’s old pack, and of great size and strength.”

Of
course, Jeff thought, Heideth had to be the alpha female in order to have cubs.
Pride in his pack jumped another notch.

They
encountered the northern shore of Lake Elva around the middle of April. Jeff
considered his options before angling farther south to clear Lake Nordval. It
wasn’t long before he began recognizing landmarks from prior travels. With a
mental jolt, Jeff realized he had subconsciously been heading toward Valholm
all the time.

For
some days, his conversation with the pack leader had been circulating in Jeff’s
mind. One thought repeated itself: why must I return? He knew the answer, but
each time he looked at it a flash of resentment quickly followed. Several more
days and Jeff was again locked in rapport with Heideth and Balko. He grew
excited at summer vistas high in the mountains that Heideth shared with them
both.

The
mental images came complete with full sensory input and were so real that Jeff
lost himself high in a hidden valley that teemed with deer and was home to many
eagles. It was incredibly beautiful, and his heart yearned to see it. Yet his
legs continued to trudge toward Valholm.

When
Jeff acknowledged to himself that Valholm was only three or four days away,
lupine and human motivations that had been savagely fighting for domination met
in a free-for-all. Feeling like his head would burst, Jeff called a halt to the
day’s march.

Later,
sitting by the fire poking a stick into the coals, he concluded there was no
option but to see it through if he was going to live with himself. Get in and
get out, he decided. Pass on what you must, head them in the right direction
and split for the mountains. I’ve done enough. Come fall, we can trek south for
Rugen to see how things are going. I’m just one person. They don’t really need
me. He held the stick up to watch the flame. Abruptly, he jabbed it into the
snow. That’s me, he thought. Burned up and snuffed out. Getting up, he chipped
a slab of venison from their supply on the sled.

Heideth
had been watching Jeff intently. She had been mentally joined with him for so
long that she couldn’t help but be aware of his conflict. And just as Jeff’s
spirit had melded with the essence of being wolf, so Heideth’s had become, in
part, human. In doing so, she had come to view the world and human society from
a different, larger, perspective. Where in becoming wolf Jeff had succeeded in
shedding past and future, Heideth had become subject to both. Now she watched
and struggled to understand.