Balko was ranging far ahead when he discovered the first sign of Alemanni in the form of a butchered deer. Jeff stopped at the carcass and found a seat on the sled to consider his next moves. He also took the opportunity to explain what he was trying to accomplish in terms that would fit wolves’ tendencies to relate all motivation to serving the welfare of the pack.
“…Thus if two-leg packs do not come together, these lands will be devoured by the invaders.”
Jeff glanced at the sun and gave up his comfortable seat. As they moved cautiously along, it was clear the wolves were sorting through what he had conveyed. The female, who Jeff decided he would call Heideth, was first to speak.
“The ways of two-leg packs are strange to us, yet your tale of fierce invaders stirs our concern. We understand that all must come together if any are to survive what is to come.”
Relieved that he had gotten his message across, and impressed with Heideth’s ability to work it out so quickly, Jeff only hoped that the Alemanni he was soon to confront would be as understanding. He suspected that was an empty wish.
Setting up a secure campsite, Jeff removed the snowshoes and backpack in case things came to a fight. Rather than reveal the saber, he attached it to his belt under the fur coat and they left to find the village.
“These are a strange people to this one, my welcome uncertain. Lie close in concealment and come if my need is great.”
Heideth understood what a hostile pack could mean. “We will do this. We will come even as you call.”
Located close by the ice-choked Skola, Helstor was much larger than he had expected. Pausing at the crest of a hill overlooking the village, he counted at least eighty lodges.
“Well, here we go. The last village, and probably the most dangerous.” Stepping out into the open, he walked down the hill.
No more than half way down the hill, a band of warriors brandishing spears jogged to meet him. Jeff saluted them by sweeping off his hat.
“Greetings from the Alarai, who return as is foretold.”
His hair color had little effect. They muttered among themselves for some time, none quite certain about anything being foretold. Several made threatening gestures with their spears and advanced toward him. All but one stopped after a few steps when Jeff made no move to run.
Shouting a challenge to meet in combat and brandishing a battle-ax, the warrior took several more steps in a fighting crouch. Jeff did no more than cross his arms and stare at the youngster, for she could not have been more than seventeen. Growling curses and shaking the battle-ax, she glared back.
Over the winter, Jeff had gained a deep understanding of the Alemanni. The young warrior would not attack unless he drew a weapon. The battle of wills that ensued was brief and lopsided. Throwing a parting curse that suggested he was a coward, she withdrew to the main body of warriors.
One group wanted to forcibly evict Jeff, but the larger faction would not permit it. If this man happened to be a passing god, their argument went, and they forced him to leave, Helstor might be utterly destroyed in reprisal. That did not bear thinking about. Besides, they asserted, the stranger likely had a good story to tell. If he didn’t, well, they could deal with him later. Jeff was escorted to the community hall.
The chieftain emerged from the hall as they approached. Uh oh, Jeff thought. This guy is not only young but also spoiling for a fight.
They eyed each other for some time without exchanging words. Darkly suspicious yet superstitious to a fault, the chief glared uncertainty. Before he could arrive at a decision, the same warrior who had confronted Jeff forced her way to the front of the crowd.
“This is no man, but a coward. It is an insult to me that he was allowed into our village. I demand a trial by combat.”
“That is your right,” the chief replied at once. He turned away from the woman to stare impassively at Jeff. “You will defend yourself or die.”
A woman in her fifties stepped out of the meeting hall. “This is not proper. We are not savages.”
“It is Villka’s right, Mother. I agree with her. They will meet in combat.”
Drawing herself up to stand straight and tall, the elder moved to stand beside Jeff. “This man is an Alarai! Have you remembered nothing from the teachings of your childhood and youth?” She whirled on the crowd. “Have none of you?”
Jeff bowed to the elder. “I am honored to be in your presence and am humbled by your strength of person. While I do not seek combat, neither am I loath to accept it. A question has been raised that now must be answered by strength of arm.”
“Wolf-brother! We sense you are in danger! Shall we come?”
“This pack is indeed hostile. There will be single combat to determine courage. Remain in my mind, see through my eyes, and come only if the pack should decide to attack me.”
At Heideth’s urgent call, the elder stiffened and stared at Jeff. “You speak mind to mind! It has been so long since I have had this pleasure!”
“May I ask your name?”
“I am called Mellia. Who or what manner of creature sought your mind?”
“I am Jeffrey. My companions are great wolves.”
“We shall be destroyed.”
“No. I am an Alarai, but no god to make such a judgment. Now, before matters worsen, I must deal with Villka. Perhaps she has given me an opportunity that words could not duplicate.”
“As you wish.”
Turning away from Mellia, Jeff tossed his coat to the side, drew the saber with a metallic ring and smiled at Villka.
“Shall we dance?”
Shouts of approval sounded from the crowd. The stranger had style! They immediately pressed back to form an arena.
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.”
<
br /> 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.”
Chapter Eighteen
Wolf or Human
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.
“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.
Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) Page 36