Lost in another world and age, Gaereth fell silent. After a period he shook himself and went to fetch coffee. Jeff held Berold up to a shaft of sunlight and turned it this way and that, the blade shooting beams of light around the room.
When Gaereth returned with two steaming mugs, lopsided smile back in place, they set to discussing strategy.
Carl turned Sam into camp late that afternoon. Capitalizing on the Telling, Halric and several other chieftains had organized a songfest to channel energy away from bloodier competition. When Carl entered, warriors from an entire tribe were in the middle of a song. He drew Sam to a halt so he could listen better, and thought he had never heard anything so beautiful.
The language was different enough that he missed many words, but those he understood were heavy with autumn’s reflection. The men and women were singing in parts, and the refrain wrung his heart. It soared then ebbed in a tempo that reminded him of wind sighing through trees and falling leaves.
The day was getting on. Carl let Sam pick his way toward the central hall while he listened. There was a lot of interesting activity in the craft lodges, but it was the music that held him in thrall.
“Now I know why Jeff loves these people. I am so glad I came. It’s good to know what you’re fighting for.”
Jeff and Gaereth heard someone dismount outside and hurried from the hall to find Carl hitching Sam. Suspecting he was about to be zinged, Carl’s expression was ripe with suspicion. He looked Gaereth up and down then stuck his hand out.
“Well. Finally! May I assume, sir, that I am greeting an honest to god Alarai?”
Taking Carl’s hand, Gaereth laughed and nodded. “A solid assumption, sir. Good to meet you, Carl.” Gaereth took Carl’s arm and guided him inside the hall. “Before anything else is said, I want you to know the Alarai stand forever diminished for allowing you to be enslaved.”
“Forever is a long time, Gaereth,” Carl soberly replied. “I don’t know that I will ever get over what the Arzaks did to me, but everything else considered, where else would I want to be?” Carl looked around the hall. “Where’s the coffee?”
Once coffee mugs were full, Carl rounded on Jeff with a severe look. “All right. This better be good. What’s up?”
“Oh, not much. Just this.”
Jeff handed a book to him.
“A book! A medical book! Oh, shit!” Jeff handed the second and third books to Carl. “Three medical books? I can’t believe this!” Carl grabbed Jeff and danced him around the room.
The box of cartridges was appreciated, and two of the pens served to ice the cake. Carl thumbed through the books for most of the evening while Jeff and Gaereth talked. He tried to pay attention to the conversation but failed miserably, much to their amusement.
Toward the tail end of evening, Carl tenderly closed a book and held it up. “These are a big dose of what we left behind on Earth. Although I’m not sure I want to know, what’s going on there? How much damage did that quake do?”
“You’re right,” Gaereth replied with a speculative look at Carl. “You may not want to hear it.”
“That bad?”
“Probably worse, Jeff.” Gaereth frowned. “Thinking about it now, it seems to me that earthquake in the Northwest set a ripple going that may keep bouncing back and forth across the country until everything is gone.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’re talking about seismology.”
Gaereth glanced at Carl. “It’s all coming apart, fellows.”
“What’s left of Seattle?”
“The quake must have raised the bed of Lake Washington eight or ten feet, Jeff.”
“Holy shit,” Carl said in a horrified whisper, “Lake Washington is huge and right in the middle of the city.”
Gaereth nodded grimly. “Exactly. When all that water hit the ship canal, it pretty much gutted what was left of central Seattle. The wave front undermined the medical center and collapsed half of it, destroyed the stadium, turned Fremont and Ballard into mud flats, and took out the waterfront. You can imagine what it did to the bridges across the lake, not to mention everything along the lake shore and the rivers that discharge from it.”
He thought he knew the answer, but Jeff took a deep breath and asked, “Downtown?”
“Maybe half the buildings survived the quake. Most of those that did survive are no more than shells. I left Seattle about six weeks after the quake—still no power or water, sewage lines were smashed beyond repair, and typhoid was heading north from Portland.” Gaereth tried to continue but couldn’t until he had taken a drink of coffee.
“Rainier corked off.”
Carl and Jeff froze while their minds reviewed images of the mountain. Even though it was far south of Seattle, Mt. Rainier still dominated the skyline. Carl shifted in his seat, and sighed.
“It erupted.”
“It blew up. The top one-third of the mountain is gone.”
“But Tacoma! I mean, wasn’t there some talk about mud flows?”
“Tacoma is no more. Not as a city.”
“It can’t just be gone!”
“Doesn’t matter what you call it,” Gaereth replied with a disconsolate shrug. “One hundred and fifty thousand dead and two-thirds of the city under a sea of mud. Mt. Adams, St. Helens and Baker also erupted. You can take it from there.”
“I don’t want to take it from there!” Carl jumped to his feet shaking his head violently. “There must be several feet of ash covering Washington and Oregon!”
“At least that, and as far away as Nebraska and Kansas. God help them, it reminded me of one of those post-nuclear war movies. Tacoma was gone, and Seattle looked like it had been nuked.”
“And the looters moved in.”
“Yes. They didn’t even wait for the aftershocks to stop. By the time I left, the National Guard was everywhere and martial law had been imposed. Shoot to kill dusk to dawn curfew, even summary executions.”
Carl leaned on the table for support. “God, damn.”
“Yeah, it’s that bad. The Pacific Northwest is in free-fall. Then I headed east. While I’m no sociologist, that quake seemed to hit the entire country right between the eyes. Things started coming apart almost overnight, but that isn’t the worst of it. Those volcanoes put so much ash high in the atmosphere that it’s going to alter the entire world climate. Earth may be in for an ice age, fellows. You can imagine how many doomsday fanatics that brought out of the woodwork.”
“Armageddon. The end of all things.”
“Among others. Then there are the militias. I don’t think anyone realized how many there were. Iowa is stable, law-abiding state, but even there militia groups were carving it up into spheres of influence.
“Your part of the state seems to be holding its own, Jeff. The farmers got organized early on; hell, they had to! Black marketers were raiding crops, not to mention ordinary thugs and hoarders.” Gaereth walked over to the coffee kettle. “I understand some of the Alarai on Skene filled you in, Jeff?”
“They were hard pressed to keep the link open, but did manage to give us a thumbnail sketch about the Alarai and what they expect of us.”
“Jeff passed it on to me,” Carl added, “and I will admit to being overwhelmed. It seems to me that we have an even chance of turning back the Salchek, but Earth! That’s a social and political nightmare. Now, after the earthquake, it’s really coming apart and there might be an ice age. How in hell are the three of us supposed to even approach that cluster fuck? It seems preposterous.”
“There are other problems that don’t help the situation. The translocation machinery is about shot. It’s worth your life to use it.”
“If that’s the case, what’s the point of even talking about Earth?”
Gaereth held his arms out wide in a gesture of helpless dedication. “We’ve got to try, Jeff. As a people, we’ve been working to keep things together so long that I expect it’s in our genes by now. Although most of our technicians have been killed along the way, we
still have a few who are good with bailing wire and tape.”
“Okay, let’s stop and back up a few steps.” Jeff took a long drink of spring water to buy some time. He really needed to collect his thoughts. “It seems to me we’re putting the cart before the horse. I don’t know about you guys, but right now my plate is full enough dealing with the Salchek.”
“Here, here. Carl, what are your ideas concerning Rugen? Maybe we ought to put our heads together while we have the chance.”
“Yes. I have to head back in the morning. I really can’t handle thinking about Seattle and Earth anymore.”
Weeks disappeared in a blur of strategy meetings and training exercises with Rugen detachments. A messenger service set up between the Alemanni camp and Rugen could not keep up with demand. When the Salchek arrived it would be finished. Their only remaining communication link with Rugen would be Carl. Jeff considered the problem and consulted with Gaereth.
“In my opinion, one of us has to be in Rugen. I think that someone has to be you. Carl is so tied up with responsibilities that he doesn’t have a prayer of stretching himself any farther.”
“You’re right. I have to go. Not only is Carl overloaded with work, he’s into medicine not warfare. You and I understand the Alemanni and agree on how to use them. In Rugen, I’ll be able to squash plans that might lead to disaster.”
Gaereth was on his way by the close of the day. The following morning he notified Jeff that the first elements of the Salchek Army had arrived.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Out of the Blue
Worming to the crest of the hill overlooking Rugen, Jeff removed his hat and raised his head. Tongues of fire licked across crops that were too immature to be harvested, generating a dense cloud of smoke that hung over the valley. The sun, a dark orange ball hanging in the east, seemed heavy with malice.
Turning to the city, he groaned at the sight of people still lined up to get inside. “There must be a hundred or more, and a lot of them are kids. Wait until the last bloody minute then bring everything you own plus livestock!”
Jeff peered south over Rugen but could see no evidence of Salchek or anything else through the haze. He located Gaereth on the wall near the south gate.
“We’ve got a bunch of folks lined up at the north gate, Gaereth. The Salchek in sight yet?”
“In spades. Can’t see much, though. The smoke’s really thick. May be some bad news. From the timber I see them dragging along, it looks like they plan to put together siege engines.”
There was little breeze to dissipate the smoke and Jeff was no wiser by nightfall. At least everyone had made it into the city. Instead of returning to the Alemanni camp, he decided to sleep in the forest. A fresh breeze had blown away most of the smoke when he returned to the observation post at first light. Jeff drew in a deep breath.
“Holy shit there’s a lot of them!”
They were spread out around Rugen in a vast semicircle from west to east and teemed like a horde of insects. As he watched, tents that had been salvaged from Rengeld’s attack were springing up in enclaves. No siege engines were visible, but Jeff assumed they were being assembled to the south out of his view. Of more immediate concern, a contingent of soldiers was jogging toward the north aspect of the city. Jeff estimated a thousand troops or more were heading his way.
“There they are!”
Under the audible lash of whips, ten two-wheeled chariots burst from the cloud of dust obscuring the main Salchek camp to the south. The lead chariots were in a dead heat and bounced from side to side as they rushed past the infantry.
“Two-man, four-horse chariots with blades on the hubs. Doesn’t come much worse than that. We wouldn’t have a chance out in the open and on foot. They might as well be tanks.”
Evening was drawing on when he and Balko backed away from the knoll. On the way back to the Alemanni encampment, Cynic and Balko did not engage in their usual give-and-take mental gymnastics. They could not recall such a somber state of mind in their brother.
The charioteers had paraded back and forth a safe distance from the north wall for some time, all the while blowing bugles and shouting what Jeff concluded had to be insults. They maneuvered in elaborate chicanes and figures of eight, sunlight winking from hub blades. It had been a consummate display of skill. That night he held a war council with Halric and Gurthwin.
“We must allow the Salchek a short period to become comfortable, to bend all their attention on Rugen, then we will strike a hard blow. However, we will never expose our warriors to their sakkas unless by design. The dark hours, stealth and surprise are our allies. Let us consider what must be done.” Another possibility came to mind. “Who among the warriors in this camp has sufficient merit to lead a first attack? If such a one may be found, I will be freed to accomplish another task of importance.”
Jeff mentally reviewed the tribal leaders he had met and worked with during the last few weeks. He could think of only one person who would fill the requirements. Halric and Gurthwin had been going through a similar process. Halric seemed especially grave when he broke the silence.
“There are many mighty warriors among the three thousands of Alemanni in this camp. Yet we know little of their leadership skills. That we will determine in battle. Even as you say, the first attack offers great promise that later may not be recaptured. I would have this honor. Do any here doubt my ability to lead?”
Jeff was equally grave in his answer. “Never have I met a warrior I would rather go into battle with, or a warrior with such skill at leading men. I would have none other.” Gurthwin simply nodded. Jeff turned back to their plan of attack.
“Halric, I wish you to gather a force of eight hundred warriors to attack the Salchek camped near the north gate. When all is in readiness your force must descend as quietly as wolves, only to spring on the enemy with the coming of dawn. You must hold then seem to retreat, drawing the enemy into the forest. There, waiting in concealment, a full thousand warriors will fall on them. If the force that pursues is too great in number to overcome, you must draw them ever deeper into the woodlands where they may be finished at your leisure. But you must not remain exposed long enough to allow Salchek sakkas or cavalry to come into play.”
“As you know, Jeffrey, as a people we are not given to retreat,” Halric said, shaking his head doubtfully.
“And yet this is what I expect of your leadership, what I understand you to be capable of. If we fail of this first task, we fail of our promise as Alemanni and will surely be defeated.”
Halric held Jeff’s gaze. His expression revealed nothing. Gurthwin was sharply attentive but had no intention of intervening. Halric must decide on his own. Yet so much was at stake.
In an abrupt transition, Halric’s features became animated with fierce determination. He raised his fist and shook it.
“No!” The fist came down on the table with a loud boom. “No! This people will not be sundered again, nor will we die in our thousands. I will not be remembered in such a fashion! We shall retreat, even though every head be broken to that end.”
“I believe this to be true,” Jeff said with a deep sense of satisfaction.
“You may depend on it,” Halric replied as he attempted to straighten the plank he had cracked with his fist. “Let us attend to your needs. How many warriors do you require?”
“No more than fifty. They will accompany me east in the forest border, then south. I plan to attack and fire the engines the Salchek are building to bring down Rugen’s walls. Before we discuss my needs father, let us consider how we are to employ the warriors under your command.”
Jeff let Halric run with his end of the plan to see what he would come up with. Later, he had to admit he was impressed with Halric’s attention to detail. One element, however, was lacking. The concept of holding a force in reserve was as foreign to Alemanni thinking as that of a tactical retreat. It took awhile for Halric to grasp the logic and common sense of it.
“Your plan to hold
the balance of our warriors in ‘reserve’ is understood.” Halric let out an explosive laugh and waved a finger the size of a summer sausage at Jeff. “How you do test me!”
Satisfied that Halric had a solid grip on the tactics and was determined to succeed, Jeff communicated the outline of their plan to Gaereth.
“I like it. Halric will be a steady hand at the wheel. Combined with your raid to the south it ought to be an effective one-two punch yet give the Salchek nothing solid to counterattack.”
“How are things shaping up at your end?”
“Looks like quite a bit of the crops were salvaged, Jeff, and we’ve managed to house all the people who came in from outlying farms. Carl’s trying to turn the infirmary into a real hospital and making some progress. As you might expect, Rengeld has the city’s defense well in hand. I’ll take a close look at the siege engines tomorrow morning.”
“How did the city stand up to that parade of sakkas? I only saw ten, but I imagine they were out in force south of the city.”
“They were. Rengeld’s troops are trained down hard and shrugged it off. The civilians were another matter. They sent a delegation to Imogo.”
“Let me guess. A delegation of the wealthy, and fat cat merchants. Arrange a truce, sue for peace, hand Rugen to the Salchek.”
“Basically, but don’t be so hard on them, Jeff. You should remember that Belstan and Rogelf could easily be included in the category of fat cat merchants if you didn’t know them. I can only imagine the stories these folks grew up with. The Salchek Army is one tough organization, and by all accounts was utterly ruthless last time in town.”
“How did Imogo deal with it?”
“Imogo is a mercenary’s son and a king. He put out a hard line, but his cousins never quit trying to stir a revolt so he hung them.”
Jeff did an incredulous mental double take. “His cousins? He hung them?”
Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) Page 46