Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles)

by Dale B. Mattheis

  Shaking her head, Magda smiled softly and kissed him. “I will come, we will meet again. It is the gods’ will.”

  A last lingering kiss and she stepped back, smiled into his eyes and turned away. Jeff watched her walk out of sight and felt like an arm had just been taken off at the shoulder.

  The first night was hard. When he awoke without Magda next to him, Jeff felt lost. The effect was so strong that it brought home how deeply he had fallen in love with her. He lingered near the fire after eating to ponder his time with Magda.

  For some years he had thought it possible or even likely that he would never find a quality woman to spend his life with. Thought that perhaps something was wrong with him. Now he loved two wonderful women, and even more amazingly they loved him. There was no doubt about it—they did love him.

  During long winter evenings, Jeff had related the entire course of his life since being transported from Earth. Magda listened closely, often while sewing new leathers for him or occupied with some other household task. Characteristically she said little, yet Jeff sensed her excitement as events moved south.

  When Jeff described his relationship with Zimma, the few questions Magda asked probed deeply. He did not attempt to disguise the conflict that loving two women had created, nor was she surprised to hear he was in conflict. While she was not telepathic, a synchrony existed between them that in some ways was more powerful. Magda did not attempt to analyze the love triangle, or him, with a flow of words. Rather, she accepted the triangle without the need to rationalize it.

  Jeff broke free of his thought train and started packing up. It was getting on in the morning and he had a long way to go. Cinching ropes over the load of supplies on the sled, he decided that he was not going to find any easy answers. Everything he had experienced on Earth spoke against the possibility of loving two women without destroying the relationship with both. But he wasn’t on Earth, and it was likely that Zimma and Magda were not human.

  Settling the backpack in place and tightening the straps, Jeff reflected on some of his conversations with Gurthwin. Maybe, just maybe, there were gods looking after this planet after all. What had occurred with Magda, Magda herself, gave strength to that possibility.

  Picking up the sled traces, he trudged off with a feeling of strengthened purpose and self-confidence. He had a job to do and was prepared to complete it both from a mental and material standpoint. In fact, he could now extend his range farther than originally planned. Thingel’s offer had opened up possibilities that before would not have been feasible.

  Most of the tribes his warriors would visit lay to the south of Fastholm, freeing Jeff to explore farther west. Although Thingel’s knowledge of tribes in that area was sketchy, he had warned Jeff about their rumored belligerence. Considering Thingel’s own thunder and lightning personality, that concerned Jeff deeply.

  Reassured by the knowledge that he had three week’s rations on the sled and another on his back, Jeff fell into step with winter in the mountains. Over ensuing weeks he checked off villages until only one remained to be visited. It was located on the Skola River and called Helstor, or Home of the People.

  The last two villages had advised skipping it. Neither village had anything good to say about Helstor. They always went in force when hunting to the west. To be caught out alone would mean your life. However, it was the last village and Jeff wanted to finish what he had started. He would at least attempt to visit them.

  It had snowed no more than an inch or two since the high-pressure system had settled in. All moisture had been rung out of the air long ago, and the snow was crusted deep enough to walk on without resorting to snowshoes. The sled skidded along behind so easily that at times it threatened to run up his back.

  The terrain he crossed still consisted of rugged foothills with a few high peaks and heavy forest dotted by the occasional meadow. On occasion he heard the rumble of avalanches, but that risk was not new to him. While an avalanche could kill you, so could a broken leg and a long list of other events. Either they did or they didn’t.

  As time passed Jeff deliberately chose high passes that could have been avoided, for they offered views that demanded comprehension. And so he would stop at the apex of some boulder-strewn passage to while away an hour or two dreaming over the land in its silent cloak of winter. Silence, white and gray, shades of green, but always silence. Yet he would listen for the silence was palpable; had presence. Over a period of time Jeff came to believe the earth itself was speaking to him, promised understanding.

  One day he stumbled across a herd of deer yarded up in a meadow. Stringing his bow, Jeff killed one of the animals and butchered it before the meat could freeze. That night the temperature started to moderate, and by morning a skim of high clouds had moved in. He suspected that an end to the clear weather was not far off. By that afternoon the wind was bowing trees. Overhead, dark gray masses of cloud filled with snow were replacing the high scud.

  Jeff stopped to think the situation over. After a brief interval he jerked the sled back into motion.

  “Better make camp while I have the chance.”

  It was getting on in the day before he ran across an outcropping of rock that would serve to protect the tent. Relieved at his find, Jeff was about to drop the sled harness when he heard a commotion somewhere ahead. The wind made it difficult to sort out the exact location or nature of the sounds. Listening intently, he picked out fragments of a high-pitched snarling that sent goose bumps crawling up his arms. He had never heard such a sound in his life. Jeff had turned the sled to beat a retreat when a deeper snarl came to his ears.

  “That’s a wolf for sure. Something has that wolf at bay, or I haven’t learned a thing about them. What could do that? Maybe a bear? Oh, bullshit.” He knew very well what an infuriated bear sounded like from personal experience.

  For some time he heard nothing more. “The wolf probably split.” Jeff turned the sled around. “I’m outta here. That wolf can run a lot faster than me!”

  Jeff hadn’t gone far when a shriek and telepathic image pierced his heart before both were suddenly extinguished. He tore the revolver free.

  “You son of a bitch! That was a cub!”

  Once past the ledge he moved cautiously from tree to tree. Momentarily, he broke into a meadow shrouded by gray dusk and the first snow flurries. Maybe seventy feet in diameter, the meadow was splattered with blood. At the far side a snarling wolf crouched over the body of a deer. Nearby, a smaller animal paced back and forth in front of a still form on the snow. From their mental signatures, Jeff identified them as an adult female and her yearling male cub. The creature advancing in short lunges toward the wolves froze Jeff in his tracks.

  Taller than Balthazar by several feet, he guessed it had to weigh at least two hundred pounds more. What was worse, its shape reminded him of a horribly mutated wolverine. Stunned by its size, Jeff thought, That thing’s as big as a black bear! Although it was longer of leg and had shorter fur than a wolverine, its head and overall body shape were the same.

  “Holy shit. I’ve never seen anything that big move so quick,” Jeff whispered as the creature advanced with lightning-quick jumps. The larger wolf waited like a coiled spring, snarling defiance and not giving an inch.

  With a snow-churning sprint and banshee howl, the monster was on the female. The scene dissolved into a tumbling mass of screaming, snarling fur that moved so fast Jeff saw it only as a blur. Wolf and wolverine sprang apart just as abruptly, once again facing each other across seven or eight feet of snow splattered with new blood.

  The female had taken a wound in her hindquarter. It was bleeding copiously, but she crouched back down over the carcass with bared fangs. Waiting for an opening, or for the wolf to weaken from blood loss, the wolverine paced back and forth hissing viciously. Jeff knew the battle could end only one way.

  Maybe a pack of wolves could handle that bastard, he thought, but I don’t think they’d even try unless there was no choice. Stricken with fear for
the wolves and in terror of the wolverine, Jeff was gripped with indecision.

  Looking around as if seeking a way out, he growled, “Why don’t I ever have a choice? That devil will eat me alive!”

  The wolverine dropped low and inched toward the wolf, a continuous wail rising and falling through bared fangs.

  “Oh, dammit it all to hell!” Jeff stripped off his mittens and moved into the meadow.

  Colt extended and steadied by his left hand, desperate curses he wasn’t even aware of escaped Jeff’s lips in a steady stream. Heavy snow flurries whipped around the meadow and light was fading fast, making it hard to see. The two animals were so intent on each other that he advanced to within forty feet before the beast whirled to face him and crouched down. Ears shooting up and down in uncertainty, the wolverine emitted a warning snarl. The wolverine’s quandary gave Jeff a moment to communicate with the wolves.

  “I am a friend of the brethren, wolf-sister. Do not be startled by the loud sounds you will hear when I deal death to this creature.” Jeff had serious doubts and muttered fervently, “God save me, I had better!”

  He pulled the hammer back to full cock for an accurate first shot and steadied the sight on the animal’s chest. The wolverine made up its mind where the greater danger lay and launched himself at Jeff, snow spewing out behind. Jeff squeezed the trigger at the same moment.

  The wolverine had just pushed off when the slug struck, momentarily stopping his rush. The thunder of the first shot still echoing, the wolverine dug in and charged. The second shot sent him off to the side giving time for a third that seemed to have no effect.

  “Die, you son of a bitch!”

  Jeff fired the fourth round and missed. Dropping to a knee, he jerked the hammer back. Blood dripped from open jaws as the wolverine launched his body and the Colt blossomed fire for the last time.

  The slug caught the wolverine at the junction of neck and chest and nearly flipped him in midair. Jeff dropped the revolver to scrabble for his knife, but too late as he was knocked over backward. Struggling wildly, Jeff kicked his way free and pulled the knife. The wolverine lay only feet away.

  Shaking badly, Jeff frantically pawed around in the snow until he found the Colt. Not ready to believe the wolverine was dead, he blew snow out of the barrel and reloaded. After dropping three cartridges in a row he slowed down. Snapping the cylinder into place, he poked the wolverine with a long stick. Nothing. It was over.

  Jeff approached the wolves in driving snow. The female was sniffing the dead cub and whining. Jeff wanted to leave her alone until she had come to terms with her loss, but it was nearly full dark. If he didn’t return to the sled soon he might not find it at all.

  “My heart is yours, wolf-sister. May your grief find repose in the One.”

  The female raised her head. “In the One lies hope and surcease.”

  “Forgive this one’s intrusion on your sorrow, but I must soon return to my den. I would know if I may be of assistance. Are you badly wounded, sister?”

  “We will recover,” she hesitantly replied. “You are truly a wolf-brother?”

  Jeff sent Balthazar’s symbol. “This is our packmate.”

  “This one we know of, for he is held in high esteem.”

  “He is a mighty leader and friend.” Jeff had no alternative but to leave, and set off across the meadow in what he thought was the right direction. “Darkness is upon us, wolf-sister. Will you and your young one share my den during the great snow?”

  “We will come to you.”

  Jeff threw a look over his shoulder and saw the female lay down by her dead cub. His path took him by the deer, and he gave it a kick in passing. It had all the resilience of a piece of wood. No food for them there, he concluded. Frozen solid.

  While the meadow was not large, light was entirely gone and it was easy to get turned around. He stopped to mentally calculate each step.

  “Damn it, I should be there.” Jeff was no longer a greenhorn, but still found it hard not to go kiting off in a new direction. “The ledge has to be nearby.” He took another step and smacked his nose against rock. “Fuck a duck that hurts!”

  The sled was not far from the ledge and he went directly to it. Unfortunately, he found it by falling on top.

  “God damn! This day really needs to end! Shit!”

  By the time he had a fire crackling under a rock overhang the snow was coming down so thick it looked like a white wall. Lighting a limb full of pitch, Jeff found his way to the wolverine carcass and stuck it in the snow. The torch was almost used up and his tracks were hard to find when he finished skinning. Jeff was feeling his way through the snowfall when his hand brushed fur.

  “Jesus!”

  “You are well, wolf-brother?” the female inquired from beside him.

  “That is a matter open to debate!”

  He dropped the pelt by the fire, loaded on new wood and directed the wolves to a grotto-like niche. When he was satisfied with the fire, Jeff located some stout limbs and pulled them over to the outcropping.

  “We will complete your den, wolf-sister.”

  Jeff propped the limbs over the wolves’ grotto. Lashing boughs to the poles, he created a serviceable lean-to.

  “Will you and your cub share meat, wolf-sister?”

  “We would be honored. Hunting has been lean, and of needs we defended our kill.”

  Deer meat stashed on the sled was also frozen, but a stick pried open a way to the center where it was not. Jeff knew how much a wolf could eat, and he hesitated.

  “Oh, screw it. They must be starving, and sure as hell need it more than I do.”

  Loading himself with fifteen or twenty pounds of venison, he set it down in front of the wolves. While roasting his own meal, Jeff watched the wolves choke down theirs.

  “Lord, they are hungry,” he murmured. “That was no more than an appetizer. All right, Jeffrey, dig out some more and quit being such a selfish schmuck.” The second offering was greeted with intense satisfaction.

  He waited until they were grooming themselves before speaking. “How fares your heart, wolf-sister?”

  “She was ours, now she is at rest. Her courage and spirit will never fade from memory. It is done.”

  Jeff let matters drop. He understood it was not done, but that the cub’s death was accepted without the need to ask why or place blame. The wolves found the campfire fascinating and lay at the mouth of their den to watch it. After a period of comfortable silence, Jeff decided it would not be indiscrete to ask why the female was off by herself with two cubs.

  “Your pack is near?”

  “We are separated from our pack. A great river of snow fell on us high in the mountains many suns ago. We have not been able to find their hunting.”

  So much packed into so few words, Jeff thought. Sounds like an avalanche either cut them off from the pack or killed the rest. Finding game would be difficult with only one of them an experienced hunter.

  “Do you rest well, wolf-sister? When sunlight comes, I will cleanse your wound.”

  “We are satisfied and will sleep well. We are grateful for the den and food you have given us.”

  There was still work to be done before Jeff could turn in. He scraped fat from the wolverine pelt first, then cleaned the revolver. Banking the fire, he wrenched a good-sized plate of stone free from the ledge and set it on top of rocks around the fire pit to keep snow out. When finally zippered into his sleeping bag, Jeff relaxed with a grateful sigh. It had been one hell of a day. The fire died down to embers and all was quiet on the land as snow drifted around the ledge.

  Several feet of snow had fallen by the time a dirty gray morning slowly distinguished itself from night. Freshening the coals with several sticks, Jeff put water on to heat. He let it come to a boil then dumped in snow until it was the right temperature.

  He was greeted courteously by the female when he set the pot down next to her. She lay quietly while he scrubbed debris from the wound, patted it dry and spread salve.
When he was done, Jeff admired his handiwork. As he had hoped, snow had drifted around the lean-to forming a snug den for the wolves. Snow continued to fall in heavy silence and they spent the rest of the day and night holed up.

  “Tough going today,” he grumbled, peering out of the tent next morning, “and what am I going to do about the wolves?” The female was wounded, and the yearling too immature to be an effective hunter. Their outlook was not good. “No alternatives I can live with. As usual.”

  “The sun has returned and I must leave this den. Will you and your cub join this one until your pack is found?”

  “We are wounded and will prove a burden. Will you have such a one in this hard season?”

  Jeff was moved by her willingness to be left and surely die. “I do not travel quickly. You and your yearling will prove no burden.”

  “We will join you. We thank you for accepting us.”

  Back in snowshoes, the going was slow and tiring as Jeff broke trail through soft new snow heaving on the sled. The pace was so slow that the female had no difficulty keeping up. She and the youngster ranged off to either side, disappearing at times as they scouted ahead.

  They covered a wide swath of territory in this fashion, and it was not surprising if still good fortune that the young male, whom Jeff named Balko, ran across a herd of deer. Taking a firm hand, Jeff left no doubt in the youngster’s mind that he was to wait for them to arrive. When they did, all three crept in close to take stock. There were five deer yarded up in a meadow.

  “Let this one use the sharp stick that flies quickly to bring us a sure kill. When it strikes, attack a different animal.”

  Sneaking in closer, Jeff selected a deer that appeared to be in reasonable condition for the season and let fly. The deer gave one leap and collapsed. Before it tumbled to the ground, Heideth charged into the meadow and seized a second deer by the throat. Balko went for a third but wasn’t sure how to go about bringing it down and it escaped into the forest. The wolves settled in to eat their fill at the female’s kill while Jeff butchered the other deer. The pattern and partnership became set over succeeding days as Friedrick’s Pack moved west, the female’s wound healing nicely and Balko settling down under Jeff’s leadership.