“All of them, plus three of the fattest cats. Their assets will go into the treasury. This is an absolute monarchy, Jeffrey, not a democracy. It’s a time of war and Imogo did what he had to. I find no fault with him.”
Silence ensued. Jeff had experienced the authority of Imogo on several occasions. It was both impressive and unsettling. Lese majesty, to trifle with kings, was akin to cutting your own throat. He understood that from an academic viewpoint. The reality was something else—the total absence of judicial process set him back on mental heels.
“Let it simmer, Grandson. We’ll talk tomorrow about the siege engines. Zimma sends her love. You’re a lucky man, and don’t forget it.”
The first meeting of the Tribal Congress started out tense. Halric was hard pressed to maintain order as chieftains vied to have their warriors included in the initial assault. Standing next to Halric, Jeff’s temper began to perk when two chieftains leaped to confront each other. Nose to nose, they roared insults back and forth until one of them brandished a battle-ax.
“That’s it!”
Jeff thrust himself between the chieftains, put a hand on each of their chests and heaved. One crashed onto a bench, the other was caught on his way down.
“Enough! You will all sit down and be silent!”
He glared them back to their seats, but the atmosphere remained charged with anger and suspicion. Jeff paced back and forth until his temper cooled and the hall was silent.
“This is not a small thing we speak of! Four tribes must quietly creep down near the enemy in the dark and patiently wait making no sound until the sun renews itself. With the sun’s first light they must attack, but only when commanded by Halric to do so. Then they must withdraw from battle when bloodlust is at its greatest and flee toward the forest as if defeated.
“Now, let us examine our hearts! As leaders, you know the spirit of our people and how difficult this will be for them. And yet, if we are to be victorious this is what must happen. Are you concerned there are not enough Salchek to do battle with? We are three thousand, they are nine thousand!”
Those were respectable odds, the chieftains decided. It appeared there were enough of the enemy to go around. Sitting back, they listened attentively. Jeff pounded away at the need for absolute obedience to Halric’s commands, then turned the floor over to him. Jeff’s tension gradually drained away as Halric moved into the breech and took charge.
When tactics were settled, deployment of various contingents agreed on and timing understood, Halric described Jeff’s mission and the type of warriors he needed. Before closing the meeting, he stood silently until he had the chieftains’ undivided attention.
“My brothers and sisters, our destiny beckons. In this battle we will come to understand whether we fight as Alemanni or as tribes. Our War Leader has brought us opportunity to gain honor in battle, honor that was denied our fathers. Yet we fight for much more—we fight for our homeland. Let us remember the Telling and not die in our thousands. Your warriors must be made to understand their place and duties. If you fail of this task, they will never see their homes again.”
Afternoon shadows had cooled the air when the chieftains filed out of the meeting hall. The man and woman who had nearly come to blows walked with their heads close together, voices hushed and urgent as they conversed. Other chieftains dispersed shaking their heads as they considered all that had been asked of them. They had gone into the hall thinking only about winning a place in battle, but come out thinking about tactics. Gaereth contacted Jeff later that afternoon.
“From what can be seen, it appears that seven siege machines are under construction. They must be fired before construction is complete. Right now they lie near the periphery of Salchek forces in order to have easy access to the forest and timber. It must be assumed that upon completion they will be wheeled near the walls. Rengeld estimates this will occur in no more than four days.”
“He’s familiar with siege engines? They’re high-tech around here.”
“Intimately familiar. I am really impressed by that man, Jeff. From what I’ve seen so far, Rengeld ranks right up there with the best military minds I’ve encountered.”
“Considering the number of campaigns you’ve been through, and the men who have commanded them, that’s one hell of a compliment.”
“And fully intended. Rengeld sees an opportunity developing that he can’t pass up. He plans to sally his cavalry corps through the south gate when the engines are fully involved by fire. What do you think?”
“That’s his entire cavalry force, five hundred troopers, and one hell of a bold plan. I like it. Hit them hard with everything you have when they least expect it. I think we can count on Rengeld to hold his effort until the Salchek are totally focused on putting out the fires, or to scratch the mission if it falls apart. Timing is going to be our biggest problem. Here’s what I have in mind…”
The final disposition of forces was ironed out by the end of the next day. Jeff’s unit was also taking shape as warriors reported in. His relief knew no bounds when they all proved to be well seasoned.
“Next, please.”
Jeff had been screening applicants for some time. He looked up from scribbling notes and studied a group of three flaxen-haired women. They resembled each other so closely that the effect was stunning. When Jeff stood up to greet them his eyes were not even with their chins. They seemed amused that he was so short. Jeff had encountered that response so many times it no longer bothered him.
He interviewed them and learned the women were first cousins from related tribes. After they had been inducted into his unit, one of them waited until she could speak privately. She was somewhat taller than the other two, reminding Jeff that her name was Helwin.
“Magda sends greetings. She could not attend this gathering, counting herself too great with child.”
Time staggered into slow motion. Magda pregnant? Could the child be his? That possibility had never entered his mind when he was in Fastholm. How could it be possible? Magda likely wasn’t human. As Jeff counted months his consternation rapidly mounted.
If the Alemanni gestation period was similar to that of terran females, Magda might well have conceived during his stay in Fastholm. A range of emotions gripped him, varying from exhilaration to guilt. She had shown no interest in other men while he was there.
“Magda fares well?”
“Her strength and spirit were good when we departed. She was quite large although still some months from her time, thus loathe to risk the journey. The decision to remain behind was most difficult to endure, for Magda counts the child as yours and wished to share her joy.” Helwin bowed. “You must know she is envied by all the village women.”
Jeff’s thoughts were elsewhere while organizing his troop. What would Zimma say? Even if he were not the father, would that make any difference in her mind? She had accepted Magda as family, but would she accept this? From what she had earlier said, yes. From everything he knew and had experienced on Earth, no.
Guilt was his constant companion throughout the day. He was not on Earth, the customs and people were not of Earth. He knew that. In meeting Gaereth he had experienced insights that profoundly underscored that fact. And yet he fought a losing battle against twenty-seven years of indoctrination. Helwin’s announcement had caught him totally by surprise and blown him back to Earth.
That evening, seated in a chair, he stared into the fire that always burned in the meeting hall. Gurthwin had to shake him in order to get his attention after the hall emptied.
“You must share what has so clearly come to possess your mind this day. What cloud is it that has descended on your spirit, Jeffrey?”
“One of personal responsibility and fealty. Will you hear what I learned this day?”
“If you would speak your heart without presumption, Jeffrey.”
“I shall without stint.”
Jeff related what he had learned from Helwin. As required by Gurthwin, he let each word be tested
by his heart and not his head. Considering his academic background, it was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Prompted by Gurthwin, Jeff backtracked to his stay at Fastholm.
“And so you could not leave. Were defeated.”
“I have never before despised my very being.”
As he talked and remembered how full of love and care Magda had been, Jeff calmed down. So quiet and steady in her love. So healing. Jeff turned his head away from Gurthwin as tears welled up and rolled down his cheeks.
“They are but honest messengers from your spirit, Jeffrey. Look at me.” It was hard, but he did.
“I love Magda with all my heart, Gurthwin. What does this say about my steadfastness in the very thing I earlier professed? To love and cherish Zimma? And yet, searching my heart, I find that I do without reservation. She is accepting of Magda and wishes for her to join us in family, yet I am once again torn by old customs that insist I have betrayed Zimma. Customs that tell me I cannot love two women without betraying both.”
“It is abundantly clear you have not won release from your home of origin.”
“No I have not, and fear this may never occur. I find that still I am consumed by my former homeland and its ways. On Earth, in America, nothing is freely offered—all things demand purchase. Most especially love and caring. There, love between man and woman too often is measured out or withheld day to day in reward or punishment. To me, it seemed no more than a collection of rules that changed on a whim. Seldom could one determine why love was withheld, and thus its offering could only be suspect.”
“And life between man and woman perpetually balances on the edge of rejection.”
“That has been my experience. You never know, day to day. In the end, I have found it most difficult to retain belief that such love as has been given by Zimma and Magda would not be measured out in like fashion.”
“Has their love been measured out?”
“Never. It is not the nature of either woman. Their love is a wellspring, and their words those of true sincerity.”
“Just so. And what do you conclude from this?”
“That I have just climbed out of a deep hole!” Jeff let his breath out in a big sigh of relief. “Thank you, Gurthwin. I really needed to hear myself say those words, true sincerity. Zimma and Magda are wonderful women who live what they speak. I really want that child to be mine! Damn, I can hardly wait until I see them!”
“Your coming to us was timely, perhaps only in time.”
“That is surely truth, and I’m afraid there are further battles to wage in this arena. Earth could not be more different than Aketti.”
“Still, I have it on good account that matters will turn out well.” Chuckling under his breath, Gurthwin levered himself upright and headed for bed.
Jeff emerged from his lodge whistling a bright tune. “What a relief to be out from under that load! Damn, I can’t believe it! I’m going to be a father!” He had overslept and jogged toward the meeting hall to attend the final war conference.
The meeting was intended only to reaffirm plans. The fact that it proved to be short bolstered Jeff’s confidence. He and his band left camp by the middle of the morning since they had a long forest trek to complete by nightfall. Given the distance, he had scrounged enough horses to mount everyone. They nearly ran into a crew of Salchek conscripts felling timber along the way, but reached their jump-off spot without being discovered.
It was well after dark when Jeff led his troops out of the woods some miles south of Rugen. Along the way, Balko casually remarked that at least two packs of wolves loosely related to Balthazar’s were going to join the Alemanni ambush. Jeff could tell there was more to it than that. Rather than buy into a setup, he resolved to wait for the other shoe to drop. Balko’s association with Cynic paid off and Jeff was the first one to break.
“Yes, and?…”
Balko’s jaws parted in a vast wolf grin. “The pack led by the one you term ‘Balthazar’ awaits us a short distance from here.”
“Let me guess, wolf-brother. You just happened to mention what we were up to tonight and sort of invited them, right?”
“Would you have it otherwise?” Balko replied, good humor bubbling over into the thought.
Jeff joined the mental laughter and could only agree that, no, he wouldn’t have it any other way. It was a great relief to know that Balthazar’s ringers would be working with him again and he dropped back to warn the troops. When the moment came and they encountered the dim group of patiently waiting wolves, Jeff heard only a few startled oaths.
With wolves scouting the way, Salchek outposts they encountered never had a chance. When they could penetrate no deeper without risking their line of retreat, Jeff signaled the troop to dismount by doing so. The disgruntled warriors who had drawn short straws and the job of tending the remuda collected horses as troopers climbed down.
Taking the twenty-five warrior reserve force aside, Jeff made sure they understood their responsibilities. When he was satisfied they did, he and Balko hunkered down with Balthazar and Heideth to wait it out.
Somewhere past midnight, Jeff sought and found Gaereth keeping vigil on the south battlements.
“We’re jumping off now. Probably take half an hour or so to sneak in.”
“Rengeld is ready to roll, and Gurthwin reports that all is well with Halric’s command. Good fortune be with you.”
Jeff gathered his team of twenty-one warriors and moved out. Three were assigned to each engine: two to soak them with oil and turpentine, one to act as sentry. Wolves would accompany each unit to silence pickets. If a strong guard was mounted around the siege machinery, Jeff figured they were in deep trouble. He was counting on Salchek ignorance of forces outside city walls and a common tendency to undervalue partially completed items to carry the day.
Visible only as a blur, Balko crept along in a stalking half-crouch several feet ahead of Jeff. Heideth and Balthazar were farther ahead on the point with the rest of the pack patrolling on either side of the column. The warriors followed in Jeff’s footsteps by threes. Five paces and stop to listen, five more. Step by step they penetrated the Salchek perimeter, the night pitch black from overcast.
They had eliminated two sentries when Jeff heard a loud grunt behind him followed by a clank.
Shit! One of them must have tripped! Heart racing, Jeff froze in place. A voice suddenly pierced the darkness. It seemed to come from only feet away.
“You hear that, Zed?”
“Don’t hear nothing.”
Jeff jumped as something shattered, followed by a thump that sounded like a boot hitting flesh.
“I catch you drinkin’ again, and yere gone to see the man.”
Muttered curses and whines tapered off to silence. Jeff waited for seemingly endless minutes, every sense tuned to the maximum. Nothing more. Breathing deep and exhaling slowly, he sent a thought to Balthazar and Heideth.
“These guards must not give warning.”
Something hit the ground and thrashed for a moment. Another brief commotion before all was silent again. The advance continued. Jeff nearly stumbled over a crumpled shape that lay in his path. A few steps more and a greater darkness loomed out of the night.
About time, Jeff thought with great relief. That has to be one of the engines. When they were closer he made out the shape of a large trebuchet. The frame appeared to be complete. Peering intently along the thirty-foot arm projecting vertically into the night sky, he got the impression that the basket had not been installed. Jeff gave the dispersal order.
Led by a pair of wolves, teams crept off in search of the remaining engines. The wolves were tense with anticipation. The attack on the Astholf Army had been fun, but this was a high stakes game much like a stalk. There was nothing they enjoyed more.
It was the first time Jeff had monitored a full pack on the hunt. He was amazed at the continual flow of data between the groups as they dispersed. Each pair of wolves knew precisely where the other pairs were, gu
ard positions were noted and sightings of siege engines passed around. While listening in, Jeff put his own team to work. Helwin shinnied up the swing arm and trickled turpentine down the wood while others soaked the base.
One by one, five wolf pairs checked in. The sixth pair reported heavy guard activity. They were stymied for a period before finding a way to sneak in. Balthazar had been coordinating the operation.
“All are in position, wolf-brother.”
Jeff gave the command to strike fire in a harsh whisper. The other teams had been ordered to wait until they saw clear evidence of fire. Click, click, he heard flint strike steel, followed by a cascade of sparks and small flame. Seconds later the turpentine took off with a rush. Shortly, he saw other fires beginning to flare. Jeff gathered his crew with urgent whispers.
“Hold fast. We cannot depart until the flames may not be quenched.”
Alarmed shouts rang out. Within moments, dim forms could be seen racing toward them in the growing firelight. Shortly, alarmed cries sounded from every quarter, shrill bugle calls split the air, and somewhere a mighty drum began pounding out its call to battle.
Jeff drew Berold with a dry rasp, a thrill shooting up his arm as he did so. Its weight seemed as nothing. A Salchek raced up with his eyes fixed on flames that had raced to the top of the trebuchet. Jeff ran him through, whirled to parry a blow from another Salchek and thrust under the man’s guard. He yanked the saber out and ducked away as two more leaped at him with swords in motion.
The soldiers were skilled swordsmen. Jeff had his hands full defending himself while trying to move away from the blistering heat on his back. Desperate to win free before more piled on, Jeff double-feinted, leaped between his opponents and spun. He felled one man, locked guards with the other and slammed the hilt of his sword against the Salchek’s head.
One look at the trebuchet convinced Jeff that nothing could put it out. It was engulfed in flames.
“Now! We must leave!” Rounding up his crew, they slipped away.
Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) Page 47