This was an aspect of Gaereth Jeff had never seen before. The command in his voice demanded immediate compliance without question. Jeff choked back the word he was about to spit out.
“Close call?”
“Very close, Jeff. I know what happened with Kalmit seems bizarre in the extreme to a twenty-first century mind, but one of those words did in fact kill the guard. Don’t ever forget it.”
“Lord Gaereth is correct.” Toltek joined them at the table. “The words had substance and should never be spoken by our kind.” He paused to examine Gaereth, something he had been doing overtly and secretly for some time. Turning to Jeff, he said, “May I examine your sword?”
Jeff looked to Gaereth for guidance. “Grandfather?”
Toltek looked back and forth between the two men in renewed amazement. There was no more than five years difference in age. It didn’t seem possible. Questions flew through Toltek’s mind at a furious rate.
“Yes. It is permitted.”
Accepting the saber from Jeff, the questions faded from Toltek’s mind. “This is truly a blade of power. Never have I felt such strength of purpose.” He studied the blade closely. The finish was mirror perfect. “To my knowledge, there is no sword in Salchesia that would have come through such an encounter unscathed.”
The effect of what had occurred in the dungeon, combined with the host of enigmas, discoveries and apparent discrepancies that followed led Toltek to bow around the room.
“We of Salchesia have long thought that no Power resided in Arvalia. This day that impression stands corrected.” Handing Berold to Jeff, Toltek once again tried to penetrate Gaereth’s steady gaze; tried to fathom the display of Power he had witnessed. “Few in our land could have banished the Yakul so quickly, for its evil is potent.”
Gaereth did not rise to the bait, but Jeff did. “That being the case, why did you so casually provoke it?”
“I did not know it was present, Captain Friedrick. Kalmit was a man of sound reputation and demonstrated considerable military talent over the years. That he was arrogant and supremely self-confident is also true, thus the Yakul found entry. Now, I must ask myself, why did it come to Rugen? Kalmit’s reputation was such that he could have chosen any number of assignments with much greater prestige.”
“But it wasn’t Kalmit that chose. Why do you think the Yakul came north?”
“Wait, Jeffrey, just wait a minute!” Carl held his hands up as much in consternation as to halt the conversation. “Do you realize what you’re doing? You’re sitting here chatting about demons and spirits as if they were politicians. While I’ll grant a certain family resemblance, how about we back up a bit and get some background? I mean, after all! Demons?”
Jeff smiled at Carl’s comparison but had to admit he had a point. “You’re right, Carl. I’ve got a few steps on you thanks to Gaereth and Lingol Bollit. This is going pretty fast. Hetlan, if your position permits, will you tell us of Salchesia? I have yet to meet anyone in Arvalia that has traveled there.”
“It would be indiscreet of me to discuss any matter that might illuminate military policies, Captain Friedrick. However, I deem your interest lies in a different realm. You are not familiar with the Dark Powers?”
“I am familiar with power, but of a much different sort. Power that would lay waste to Arvalia and Salchesia in a storm of fire such that no living thing would take breath for countless years and leave this world in darkness. Yet this power is of man’s devising while what I have witnessed this day springs from another source altogether.”
Hetlan Toltek studied Jeff, and to his left, Carl. Their grave expressions left no doubt that what Jeff had said was absolute truth.
“Lord Gaereth and Captain Friedrick, the Yakul came because you are here. Lingol Bollit came because you are here. Both to discover the origin and nature of the Power. One springs from Darkness, the other, Light.” Toltek held his hands up to mimic a beam scale.
“Evil and Good, forever at war yet perpetually in balance over time. Thus it has been for untold generations in my land. I do not know where Yakul spring from, only that they and other spirits have always been with us. I am at a loss for words to give further explanation to men who so obviously rely on reason to understand the forces that guide and influence our lives. That was not meant as a criticism, but I believe it to be fact.”
“You are correct, and I do not take your statement as criticism. Since coming to this world I have had ample cause to question my basis of understanding.”
Gaereth threw a sharp look at Jeff, but the words were out. Toltek did not seem surprised.
“Do not be concerned, for I have divined as much if not to this degree. If released, I can assure you such knowledge will remain in my keeping upon return to Salchesia. To do otherwise would assure a quick and violent death. If I were fortunate. There are forces afoot here that I have never experienced, forces that even now contend for mastery over land and sea. The balance has been destroyed.”
“Lingol Bollit was of the White? Belonged to an order?”
“An order?” Toltek shrugged helplessly. “Yes, after a fashion, but it was his destiny.”
“Enough. I gather you have arrived at a decision?”
“Yes, Commander. I will eschew Arvalia and return to the Homeland. It is also likely I will resign from the military and seek understanding in our centers of learning. When the officers held with us hear of events, I have no doubt they will hurry to give their sincere word as well.”
“Very good. You are free to leave at any time. Your weapons will be returned and food will be provided. If there were horses to spare you would have one, but I am afraid this is not the case.”
“Commander, the promise of freedom is sufficient. Each stride toward the southern ocean will be as the breath of life.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Denouement
The festival was scheduled to begin the following day, Jeff recalled as he walked along in a dark study. Thank heavens. Something enjoyable.
Hetlan Toltek and subordinates were well on their way south in possession of Lingol Bollit’s personal effects and those of other Salchek. The room in the dungeon had been scrubbed clean and thoroughly disinfected under Carl’s direction.
They had decided that only Imogo and Ethbar would be briefed. Certainly not the populace. Whatever evil was to come, anticipation and superstition would only make it worse. As Rengeld observed, how did one prepare for the advent of demons?
Yet Jeff had reservations and planned to speak with Gurthwin at earliest opportunity. He needed to understand what they might well confront in the future. Not only evil, but also good. Memories of Lingol’s presence and caroling bells were not easily dismissed. He and Carl planned to hold nothing back from Zimma and Helwin.
“Wake up, Friedrick!”
Carl grabbed Jeff by the arm and turned him back toward their favorite tavern. Helwin, Zimma and Gaereth waited by the doorway.
“Let it rest for awhile, my man,” Carl whispered. “We’re alive, we’ve lucked into wonderful women, and this promises to be one stomping party.”
The Golden Bung was a popular tavern and packed with excited town folk eager to get an early start on the festivities. There were no free tables, but Zimma spied Rogelf and Belstan. They were seated at a table with legs kicked out, celebrating the end of another day with several mugs of ale as was their custom.
Rogelf waved them over and pulled up extra chairs. Assisted by the ale, it wasn’t long before a wide-ranging bull session was circling the table. Inevitably, the conversation drifted to matters of war and politics. It was a relief to talk about such mundane things as massed cavalry attacks, siege towers, and treasonous courtiers. Belstan leaned back with tankard in hand, legs crossed in front of him.
“I have just this day spoken with a trader who bribed his way out of Khorgan and journeyed north by way of Astholf. While this young man appears to be most devious, he is also quite courageous to risk such a journey during wart
ime and so early in the season.” Belstan paused long enough to let loose a satisfying belch. “Now do not take this to heart, but I believe we may have a respite from the war. It is Malchor’s opinion that the Salchek will be hard pressed to keep control of what they already have.”
“That was a big caravan. The Salchek must have stripped Khorgan of wagons and draft horses.”
“According to Malchor they did, Jeffrey. The loss of that caravan wreaked havoc in Khorgan. It seems the Salchek promised payment in gold they did not possess or would not release. Many businesses have failed, and others cannot afford to replace the wagons and supplies that were lost. Gods know where they will even be able to find much less purchase new horses! In short, Khorgan and Astholf are near open rebellion. As I was saying, I believe we may be free of the Salchek for a full year.
“This Malchor. Think his information is reliable?”
Belstan shrugged fatalistically. “As far as one can trust anything a trader says, Carl. Something about this lad I like, though.” He pursed his lips and nodded. “Sharp mind; knows how to figure the odds. I believe I will have another long talk with him. Rogelf and I may choose to employ him if all goes well.”
Tankards were empty and Rogelf called for another round. Instead of more ale the waiter brought a tray of small cups. One sip and Carl coughed loudly.
“Holy stomach lining! Now that is some fine stuff. Goes down like a single malt scotch.”
“In honor of this gathering, Carl,” Rogelf replied with a satisfied smile.
A period of silence followed, broken by the occasional appreciative comment. Cheeks were getting rosy when Gaereth reluctantly spoke.
“As much as I hate the thought of leaving, I must head east and north as soon as snow levels drop a bit more. I can tell you I have little enthusiasm for the trip to Skene.”
“Any choice in the matter?”
“None, I’m afraid. The Alarai counsel is convening an important conference this summer. In addition, there are vital issues I must discuss with them.”
“Amen to that, brother,” Carl murmured, then said in a normal tone, “Maybe shake them loose from Skene?”
“It’s worth a try, but don’t hold your breath. I also plan to visit Earth.”
“Status check?”
Gaereth nodded toward Jeff. “Good way of putting it. Basically, I want to monitor the situation in America. I’ve been hoping the National Guard succeeded in restoring order. Even if they did, it’s anyone’s guess how long it will hold. Whatever the case, I’ve got to see where things stand. Other countries will have been hit hard by the climatic changes, but that earthquake brought America to its knees. My greatest fear is that by the time we have things under control on Aketti we’ll be facing total anarchy.”
“And all the king’s horses, and all the king’s men…”
“…Couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Yes, it’s that critical, Carl. If America ever splits up it would take fifty years of civil war to rejoin it, but certain foreign powers would exert every effort to make sure that never happened.”
“Like the Salchek, they would seek its riches for themselves.”
“I’m afraid so, Helwin. The memory of empire never diminishes, and often finds expression in the name of assistance and compassion.”
The day had been unseasonably warm, promoting high spirits. With Gaereth’s news a gloomy pall settled over the table. Belstan shouted for the waiter, ordered another round of scotch with ale for a chaser, and launched into some improbable tale concerning Zomar.
Within a short span Jeff lost himself in visions of soaring minarets and hanging gardens, turbaned warriors and mermaids. The tale was so outrageous and fascinating at the same time that even Gaereth was captivated. It was only when Zimma reminded everyone that the festival was to begin the next day that they called it quits and headed home.
The festival was to extend over four days. During the first three, a celebration would be held in a different section of the city each day. The fourth was to culminate with a grand ball cum reception at the palace, and general gala throughout the city. The warm spell held and city folk streamed into the craft section for a day of food and entertainment. The Alemanni enjoyed a party more than most and came to town in force.
Jeff, Zimma, Gaereth, Carl and Helwin went as a group. Ethbar and Rengeld were tied up with Imogo’s official presence and had to decline. Much to their delight, they ran into Halric and Gurthwin. In high spirits and good voice, Halric gathered other Alemanni as they went. Gurthwin hobbled along aided by his staff, muttering as usual. He didn’t miss a thing and proved quite willing to sample local brews.
Some hours later they ran into Ethbar and Rengeld. After a few words of greeting, Rengeld was forced to hurry off in order to check up on troops assigned to patrol the carnival. Upon being introduced to Gurthwin, Ethbar chucked the rest of his scheduled duties. They stopped frequently to more closely debate this issue or that, and quickly fell behind. Ethbar waved for the group to go on without them, hooked Gurthwin’s elbow with his own and led him toward a cart selling ale.
Lamps were lighted as evening drew on, lending an exciting air to the scene. Numerous bands wandering the streets took a deep breath and really laid into it. To a rhythmic clapping of hands, the crowd formed into lines on either side of streets throughout the craft section. Old-timers called out the dance and the lines skipped together with a shout. Skirts held out of the way, hands on hips, thousands of clogs crashed to the cobblestones in quick time syncopation.
On the sidelines, Zimma gripped Jeff’s arm with excitement. “I have never seen anything like this!” She pulled him toward the nearest line. “Come, love, let us join in the merriment.”
“Well, okay” Jeff dubiously replied, “but don’t be surprised if I fall flat on my face.”
Helwin still felt shy around city folk and hesitated when Carl suggested they dance as well. Always more outgoing than Jeff, Carl pulled her toward the action. Within minutes Helwin was laughing and skipping with the best of them.
The bands got their second wind, ale flowed, the night fled. The foursome staggered home shortly before the sun made its appearance. They met for lunch and resolved to be more moderate, but dragged home in a sorry state three nights running.
The morning of the official ball, both couples groaned around their rooms and were even a bit snappish. By the time Jeff and Zimma were ready to leave for the palace, spirits and good temper had revived.
Zimma wore a forest green gown with gold embroidery around the hem, accented by a lighter green sash at the waist. A gold necklace set with bits of emerald glimmered and sparked around her neck. Throwing a light wrap around her shoulders, Zimma paused at the door to stick her tongue out at him and spun from sight.
“Hey! Come back here!”
Jeff snuffed the candles and hurried out the door laughing. “Why is it I always seem to be chasing after that woman?”
Strolling toward the palace arm in arm, Jeff breathed deeply of the fresh spring night and gazed at the milky expanse of stars winking in the night sky. They were nearly to the palace when he stopped and pulled Zimma into his arms. Music flowed from the entrance, and streams of people hurried across the plaza to join the celebration.
“In my wildest imaginings I never dreamed such a wonderful woman could be mine. I cannot imagine life without you….”
A picture of Magda smiling into his eyes at their parting abruptly came to mind. He and Zimma frequently talked about Magda, but it really hit home that he was a father in the fullest sense. Magda would have given birth to their child some months ago. Jeff could not find any words that would fit the moment or do justice to either woman.
Zimma smiled into serious yellow-green eyes and pulled his head down for a kiss. “Or without Magda and our newborn child. Yes—I understand this and share your joy. Do you not yet comprehend? I love you for what and who you are, and that shall bind me to you until we are no more. There is no recourse to that love,
Jeffrey. Do you, then, imagine there remains a moment-to-moment risk that I will spurn you? No, were Magda and our child present to share this wonderful evening, all would be complete.”
Breaking free of his arms, Zimma caroled laughter and pirouetted away with outstretched arms through pools of lantern light. Gown and hair swirling high, her laughter overflowed with happiness.
Spellbound, Jeff watched Zimma and recalled a question asked what seemed many years ago in an enchanted forest. The answer leaped out at him: he was not alone, had not been alone for many months. True understanding that was much more durable than emotion found a home and opened his heart like a flower to the sun. Jeff threw his head back and shouted laughter. He caught Zimma in his arms and spun around.
“I belong to you and Magda. To our child. To this wonderful world. I finally understand what that means. I really belong!”
Zimma pulled herself up until her eyes were so close that he lost himself in their depths and mystery.
“Yes, of course you do. You have come to us and are ours forever.” Zimma smiled. “Welcome home, my Jeffrey.”
Closing her eyes, Zimma kissed Jeff softly. Lost in one another, they forgot time, war and death as two moons rose over city walls.
###
About the Author
Submarine medical officer, general physician, psychiatrist, sailor, master bread baker and wanderer – Dale B, Mattheis has seen a lot, learned a lot, and eventually was moved to capture some of those insights in the science-fiction series, The Alarai Chronicles.
Exile to the Stars and books that follow in this series resulted after five years of writing, editing, and learning the trade. Each book is packed with adventure, exploration, and amazing new vistas that challenge the will to survive. The author understands what physical and psychological survival require.
Physical Map of Aketti
Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) Page 58