Tigra

  The going was hard, picking narrow paths through the trees and struggling with the underbrush, but they finally reached the foot of the mountain and began to ascend. With the increase in elevation the temperature dropped. Jeena expected this, but was unprepared for its effect on her. The cold seemed to sap her strength in a way she could not understand. By the end of the second day on the mountainside, she was shivering and weak.

  Although the climb was difficult, she had regained all of the muscle mass she had lost in the prison, so it should not have been as much of an effort it was. The cold might be biting, but no worse than on Mizar 3, and she had adapted to that quickly. Now, her limbs felt heavy, and breathing was work.

  Then the snow began to fall.

  * * * *

  Jeena stirred the cooking pot as she looked over the map. Although the Azulz Range was clearly indicated, it covered a large area. Vicki had found no mention of a colony in this area, and she had no idea where this Mordachi might be. They were groping blindly in a hostile environment, and she knew that often spelled disaster.

  "This is a sign of worse things ahead,” said Samson, eating his stew.

  "The snow?” Jeena asked, watching it fall.

  "No, your cooking."

  She gaped at him until she saw the gleam in his eye. Then they were both laughing, and with the laughter the pall that had settled over them the last few days was lifted.

  "Ha-ha ... oh, that was a good one,” she said. “But seriously—you're an asshole."

  The laughter began again. They huddled close around the fire as the falling snow grew heavier. Jeena shivered. Lately, the tips of her fingers stayed blue even after she was warm. She did not know what this indicated, exactly, but she knew enough field medicine to be worried.

  "Brrr ... I wish I had your fur."

  "Still trying to make a coat out of me, huh?” He gazed up at the mountains still looming over them. “We can't be more than halfway up. I don't think we can keep going without more specific directions."

  "I know. I was hoping to find a settlement by now, or at least a sign of one. I can't imagine there are any colonies above this elevation.” She pulled the map from her pocket. “Look here. There's only one area of passable ground anywhere around here. Any colony in this area would have to use it. If we head through it we should find some sign of them."

  Samson studied the map. “That's a good three days from here."

  She caught the meaning in his look. “Don't worry about me. It's just taking me a while to get used to the cold. You'd be shivering, too, if you weren't such a fur ball. Now, let's get into the tent and get some sleep. We've got to get an early start tomorrow."

  * * * *

  Samson stirred restlessly in his sleep. A shadow was coming towards him, a thing without shape. He could not see it, but he knew it was alive. It was not searching for him but for food, and he could almost feel the raging hunger that drove it.

  Suddenly, the shadow sensed his presence and leapt on him with a roar.

  He awoke with a cry, arousing Jeena in the too-small tent.

  "What's wrong?” she asked, instantly alert.

  "I don't know. There was something...” He shook his head to clear it. “I thought I heard something."

  They both lay still, listening to the howling wind.

  "I don't hear anything. Maybe it was the wind,” Jeena said.

  "Yeah, maybe."

  She shivered and curled up next to him. Samson lay with his eyes open, staring out into the blackness of the tent. It wasn't the wind, and it wasn't a dream. Someone or something was calling to me.

  They awoke the next morning to strong winds and heavy snows. Jeena had developed a cough during the night and was irritable, complaining of a headache. They ate sparingly of their dried food and broke camp quickly, working through the deep snow toward the pass.

  The terrain continued to rise, and the going was arduous and slow. They made little ground that day and had to pitch the tent only a few miles from their previous camp. The wind had not let up and starting a fire proved impossible. Cradled inside the tiny tent, they ate the last of their dried meat. Jeena fell asleep immediately after eating, and Samson lay over her gently, trying to warm her body with his.

  Her cough had become worse, and there was a blue tint around her lips and eyes. She had stopped shivering, but that did not comfort him. The wind howled throughout the night.

  They awoke to a blizzard. Jeena was difficult to rouse and seemed lethargic even after waking. Samson saw that the blueness of her face had deepened to an almost purple hue. She spoke little and seemed clumsy trying to break camp. He took the tent down himself and threw it on the kytar. Bending against the wind and blinding snow, they made for the pass.

  They had only gone a short distance before he halted. Jeena was stumbling and falling repeatedly; it was clear she was unable to walk farther. She did not protest as he lifted her onto the kytar. Grabbing the reins, he pushed on.

  He walked throughout the long morning, fighting the roaring winds and snow and using the tree line as a guide. He trudged on until even he was near exhaustion. The sun was lost behind the great gray clouds and swirling snow, but he felt it had to be late afternoon.

  He halted and looked around in dismay. He could not identify the terrain. He pored over the map he had taken from Jeena, but it was no use. Almost snow-blind and unable to determine their position, he stopped. They would have to wait out the storm.

  He worked alone in the high winds to pitch the tent then eased Jeena gently off the kytar and carried her inside. She was cold and pale. She opened her eyes weakly and coughed, and he saw blood on her lips.

  "Where ... are we?” she asked, her voice wheezy.

  "I'm not sure. Close to the pass, I think, but the storm is too bad. We'll have to wait it out."

  She looked up at him for a long moment before speaking. Her words came in gasps.

  "When the storm clears ... head for the pass. Follow it ... to the other side ... of the mountain. The other colony ... must be there."

  "We'll get there,” he replied.

  "No, not ... we. You. I can't ... make it."

  "Don't say that! You'll be all right, you're just cold. I'll warm you.” He tried to cover her with his body, rubbing her limbs with his paws.

  "It's not ... the cold, it's ... the altitude. I'm such an ... idiot. Ararat ... is so much smaller ... than Earth. I never ... considered that ... the air would thin out ... so much faster. We can't be at more than ... five thousand feet, but the air ... feels like twenty thousand.” She coughed and wiped her mouth, holding the blood up for him to see. “Pulmonary edema. My lungs are ... swelling. I'm dying."

  Samson began grabbing their gear. “Then we'll go back down the mountain. I'll get you to more air!"

  She grasped his arm. “It's too late for that. Even ... without the storm you couldn't ... get me down in time. I'm sorry ... didn't mean ... to leave you alone.” She took several great, heaving breaths, her eyes beginning to glaze. “I wish...” She touched his face with pale fingers. “You asked me once ... what you meant to me. No one has ever ... meant more. Whatever happens always remember ... I..."

  "Jeena,” he whispered, but her eyes had closed. He picked up her limp body and held her against his chest. “Nooo...” he sobbed. “Wake up. Please don't leave me, Jeena."

  Not even on the altar of the Rosh-dan had he felt such utter despair and hopelessness. Alone and afraid, unable to do anything for her, he rocked her gently in his arms as the wind howled and his tears flowed.

  Chapter 14

  "To learn the secrets of the Universe in an instant, one need only to die. All other ways require patience."

  Favorite saying of Nanor, kho'pan of the Intawa, as quoted by Jeena Garza

  He could barely separate the sound from the other noises of the storm. It was faint, like a distant tinkling of metal, almost lost in the roaring maelstrom blowing around them.

  He heard it again. Samson opened his bl
eary eyes—it was the sound of tinkling bells.

  He laid Jeena down and rushed from the tent, fighting the wind and scanning the blindingly white landscape for the source of the sound. There, in the distant tree line, was a kytar. On its back rode a man covered in heavy furs.

  With a roar greater than the wind, he leapt through the high snow, racing toward the rider. The startled figure turned toward the sound and saw Samson barreling toward him, his golden eyes wild. With a cry the rider spurred his mount, only to have it rear and throw him onto the ground.

  Samson was on him in an instant, panting heavily, his fangs descended. The man scrambled to extract himself from the snow and drew his knife. His eyes were wide with fright as he backed up to a tree, the blade shaking in his hand.

  "No,” Samson panted. “You don't need that. I won't hurt you. I need your help."

  He could feel his fangs projecting and cursed them.

  The man froze.

  "I need your help,” Samson repeated. “There is a woman..."

  The man let the knife drop from his hand and fell on his knees, lifting his arms to the sky.

  "Listen to me, please. There is a woman..."

  The man began chanting in a strange tongue, oblivious to Samson's pleas.

  "Dammit, listen to me!” Samson roared. Rising onto his hind legs, he lifted the man easily in his powerful arms and shook him. “I have no time for this! A woman in the tent—up there—she is sick, very sick. Can you understand me?"

  The man nodded.

  Samson set him back down and backed away, dropping back to four legs.

  "I know you're confused and scared, but I won't hurt you. Please help her. You can do what you want with me, but please ... please help her."

  The stunned man nodded again. “I help you, Shahaiya, yes."

  Although Samson did not grasp the meaning of the word, it was obvious this man understood him. He bounded through the snow and retrieved the kytar, handing the reins back to the owner.

  "She's just above us, on the hill. Follow me."

  He took off at a run up the small elevation. He looked back once but saw that the man was right behind him. At the tent, he held the kytar's reins as the man dismounted and went warily inside. He came out in a rush a moment later, quickly removing furs from his mount.

  "Woman very bad, very sick. Die maybe. No time.” He hurried back in the tent with the furs, exiting a moment later carrying Jeena, bundled up, over his shoulder. He laid her gently across the kytar. “I go to village. Bring her to Nanor."

  "May I come?” Samson asked.

  The man looked at him oddly.

  "Intawa welcome Shahaiya always, yes.” He grabbed the reins of Jeena's kytar and leapt up on his own animal. He set a course through the trees, moving as fast as the two animals could go in the high snow. In spite of the continuing blizzard, he seemed to have no difficulty finding his way.

  Samson followed close behind but soon began to lag as the blizzard and deepening snow worsened. Once or twice he thought he lost them, only to hear the bells on the kytar's reins. The labor took its toll on the big cat, and soon he was struggling, his head bent down and covered in frost and ice.

  When at last he looked up again, both the kytars and the rider were gone, and he had stumbled into a clearing. Panting hard, searching for Jeena, he watched as a group of hooded men converged on and encircled him. He tried to speak but found he couldn't catch his breath.

  A great weariness came over him, and the strength of his legs gave out. He fell gasping into the snow as the hooded figures closed in on him, spears in hand. They began to blur and waver, and the world went black.

  * * * *

  The scent of food prodded Jeena's unconscious mind, tempting it back to wakefulness. She opened her eyes to a flickering fire, crackling and popping. She could no longer hear the storm. And she was warm.

  A naked man danced around the fire to the beat of a drum, his body painted entirely blue except for yellow stripes under his eyes. His only adornment was a necklace of feathers and stones.

  The drumming stopped. The man leaned close to her face and smiled. Even his eyes were a bright blue.

  "Oha, Shahaiya semata,” he said, grinning. A bowl of broth and herbs appeared, and he fed her several mouthfuls.

  "Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely before slipping back into an easy sleep.

  * * * *

  "Jeena."

  She sighed and stirred. The dream had been so real—the white-walled city and the palace, the old woman. A shame about the young soldier, though.

  "Jeena,” the voice repeated softly.

  She awoke and opened her eyes. A large golden face smiled at her.

  "Samson,” she whispered, her voice still hoarse and raspy.

  "Well, look who's finally awake,” he said.

  "What happened? Where are we?” She was lying on a pile of soft furs and covered in blankets. Her eyes were still having trouble focusing, but she could see they were in a long oval building that looked to be made of logs and branches. A fire burned in a center pit with many people around it.

  "Among friends. They call themselves the Intawa. Ewar, a hunter of their people found us."

  "Found us? Are we still on the mountain? How long have we been here?"

  "Hey, answering all your questions at once is going to take the fun out of making you guess. Yes, we are still on the mountain, in a cove just the other side of the pass. You've been out for five days."

  "Five days? I don't understand. I should be long dead by now."

  "Are you complaining? The one named Nanor, the kho'pan—medicine man—has been caring for you since we got here, sticking some kind of herb under your tongue. He seemed to know what was wrong with you. Said some of his people had gotten sick like that when they first came to the mountain. He calls it ‘bad air.’ Whatever it is, he knows what he's doing. Your color got better almost immediately."

  Jeena looked around the room. The people she saw were almost all tall and blonde, the men wearing their hair as long as the women. Both men and women wore loose leather breeches, and neither wore an upper garment. She noticed they all seemed to have blue eyes, bright and shiny against their ruddy complexions. They were a handsome race.

  "One of them spoke to me earlier. Strange words."

  "Yes, they seem to have their own language, but have no difficulty understanding Standard Galactic."

  "Their own language? Humans haven't used anything but SG for centuries."

  A group of naked children ran by, laughing.

  "Can these really be the people Touloc sent us to find?” she asked skeptically.

  "No—I asked about that already. But they know this Mordachi and the way to his city. Apparently, there is some trade between them. It isn't far from here, but the hunters say the snow makes the way impassable for now. They've promised to guide us when it clears."

  The blue-faced man Jeena had seen earlier left the fire and came to them. To her bewilderment, he knelt before Samson and touched his forehead to the ground. He sat up and smiled at her.

  "You strong semata. Get more strong soon. Shahaiya watch over you."

  "This is Nanor, the kho'pan,” Samson explained.

  "Thank you, Nanor. Samson says you saved my life."

  "Nanor is kho'pan. Know much. But Shahaiya know more. Shahaiya give life.” Nanor bowed again to Samson before leaving them.

  "Uh, Samson...?"

  He sighed. “I know, I know. I'm not sure how it happened, exactly, but ... um..."

  She pressed him. “Go on."

  "Well, I know it's silly, but I, uh ... I seem to be one of their gods,” he said sheepishly.

  Jeena laughed as his ears fell flat to his head in embarrassment. She recognized his discomfort and stifled her mirth, placing a hand on his paw.

  "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate. Thanks to you I'm alive when by all rights I should be dead. Maybe they're right. Maybe you are a god and I'm your first miracle.” Her face remained serious fo
r a second more before the laughter returned.

  Samson growled something unintelligible and stalked away, shaking his head.

  * * * *

  As Nanor predicted, Jeena gained strength rapidly over the next few days and was soon walking around. He still forbade her from going outside so she stayed in the hut, a communal dwelling the Intawa called a j'led.

  It was a warm and comfortable place. Animal hides lashed to the outside walls kept out the cold and wind, and the fire burned night and day, usually with a steaming pot over it. Ringed along the floor were sleeping mats of thick animal furs and blankets, separated from each other by only a few feet. This, she learned, was the extent of an Intawa's “personal space."

  The men were gone much of the time hunting so she spent her days talking with the women. She discovered they were not the only Intawa on Ararat. This was just one of a group of tribes who lived along the northeast corridor of the continent. It was an existence eked out in the main with the use of Stone Age tools, although Jeena did see a few metal implements she was told were obtained through trade.

  Living was communal in the most primitive sense of the word, with all work divided and all food shared. Each tribe considered themselves an extended family, and for that reason marriage partners could only come from outside the village, from other tribes. Once a year, at the height of the summer, the various tribes would meet at one of the villages for a week of celebration and games known as the keppi. It was during these gatherings that Intawa men would attempt to take a bride. There were always more men than women and the competition, while friendly, was intense.

  The women explained that each prospective suitor would try to impress the girl's tribe with his ability as a hunter. This was accomplished through a series of competitions involving foraging, tracking, hunting and riding. The final choice of a mate was left up to the girl, but it was common for other members of the tribe to offer their opinions.

  It often happened that many young men would return home from the keppi brideless, particularly in years of famine or disease. This was seen as a terrible omen. Without new blood there could be no children. With the birth rate of most tribes just barely keeping up with mortality, a few unsuccessful keppis could cause the tribe's population to decrease precipitously. It had even happened that a tribe had died out completely.