Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (14 page)

“Ah!
Our brother desires to seek out places that foul the air and water. Our
curiosity is great that you should consider these two-legs your kind.”

Puzzled
by the last comment, Jeff thought he might have messed up the query and tried
again, this time including images of men and women. The wolf leader’s thoughts
overflowed with the same vast amusement.

“We
believe that ‘your kind’ would be unhappy with such comparison.”

“Your
humor grows old. Please answer me directly.”

The
wolf fell silent for a period, a certain respect growing in his thoughts.
“You
are related to the two-legs of the south as we of the brethren are related to
grassland hunters. From your thoughts we conclude you intend to seek them out
in search of understanding, and this is deemed necessary.”
 

“Forgive
my impatience, leader of many, but riddles avail nothing. True knowledge to
assist my passage would be of great value.”

When
the wolf replied, it was in a grave tone.
“Much that must be is not given to
this one. Two marches to the south you will find a gathering of the
golden-haired ones. There you will learn much.”
With that and a brief
farewell, he was gone.

“Well,”
Jeff grumbled, “at least something to shoot for. I don’t know what gathering
means, but most likely a village. Maybe a big one. So many questions and so
little information or answers. It looks like I’m going to have to dig it out
for myself.”

Totally
fed up with what seemed to be nothing but evasive replies, Jeff continued on
his day’s journey with a vow to keep his own counsel and not be moved around
like some pawn in a chess game. It may have been a coincidence, but at that
moment a faint howl drifted to his ears and made them burn.

The
weather cleared as the day wore on, and Jeff’s mood followed suite. “Got to
give that wolf a name, symbol or no symbol.” Jeff chuckled and laughed as he
considered one unflattering name after the other. In the end he got serious and
settled on Balthazar.

Blue
skies returned the following day, and he made good time as the land opened up a
bit. While still heavily forested, there were more meadows. Hurrying across the
smaller ones, Jeff detoured around larger meadows to avoid the risk of being
caught out in the open. Not long into the afternoon, he ran across evidence of
cultivation.

Putting
his experience from the family farm to use, Jeff assessed the weed-grown plot.
Maybe something over two acres, it had not been worked for a season. He was
intrigued by the furrows. They were large and appeared to have been turned by a
two-bottom plow. That meant draft animals. The men he had seen were giants, but
not strong enough to pull such an implement.

“Now
where did that come from up here? The village has to be close—I’ve got to see
this place!”

Wary
of provoking a confrontation, Jeff moved away from the river. He also did not
want to stumble onto a settlement without having a chance to first look it
over. By early evening he had located the village, set up a secure campsite and
wormed his way into a stand of trees on a promontory that gave a good view of
the village. He scanned the area and let out a soft whistle.

“Well,
there’s my lake,” Jeff whispered, “and what a lake.”

The
opposite shore was not visible. Even though there was no breeze to speak of,
good-sized waves curled far up a sandy beach. A number of children raced back
and forth chasing the water, and long-legged birds skittered along the
shoreline. No boats were visible, which surprised Jeff. While the lake might be
barren of fish or comparable species, that possibility seemed unlikely.

As
the sun touched the horizon he counted fifty buildings constructed of
squared-off logs, their high-peaked roofs covered with sod. Donning sunglasses,
he could see more trailing off into the woods.

“Hmm.
Remind me of those Viking lodges excavated in Newfoundland. Really sturdy.
Maybe twenty-five feet on the side and no chimneys, just smoke holes. Wait a
minute, what’s that?” Peering into shadows now extending over the village, Jeff
could almost swear that one lodge did have a chimney, and wood planking on the
roof to boot.

The
people all seemed to fit the same mold as the warriors he had earlier
encountered. He saw children sprinting here and there, roaming groups of what
looked like dogs, and clusters of adults talking to one another. Wood smoke
sifted through the roofs of many lodges. Close by his hiding place, a man and
woman were busy skinning a deer while conversing in a guttural tongue.
Occasionally, one or the other would call out to people in the village or laugh
uproariously.

Jeff’s
overall impression was of a people intent on completing the day’s tasks while
catching up on village gossip. As the sun disappeared from view, Jeff abruptly
turned from his survey in the grip of a devastating wave of homesickness. He
had experienced a number of serious attacks since accepting he was no longer on
Earth, but always in the presence of other demands that could not be ignored.
At the moment there was no threat.

The
sight of people engaged in routine, familiar experiences in the company of
family and friends reminded him of everything he had lost. Caught unawares,
Jeff’s heart unraveled. The knowledge that he would never see his family again
was no longer a strong possibility, it was fact. There was no escaping it.

All
the loneliness he had felt up to that point was nothing compared to the anguish
that gripped him. Finding his way to the tent, Jeff curled up in his sleeping
bag and let the tears come. They were not tears of momentary distress, rather
an outpouring of grief for what was forever gone—the slender but immensely
strong resource of people he loved and who loved him without reservation. The
transition to sleep came somewhere around midnight

To
his intense relief, Jeff felt drawn but calm the following morning; felt as if
something had taken another step on the way to being settled. And those he
loved were still there, somewhere in the universe. Jeff smiled when he thought
about his grandmother. She would never give him up as lost.

Returning
to his observation post, Jeff reassessed the village. While it was quite early,
villagers were already bustling about. He watched people stream back and forth
from a spot in the woods with growing curiosity.

“Oh
yeah! Has to be it. Pit toilets. Now that’s impressive.”

The
streets were dirt, certainly, but seemed to be laid out in a regular fashion.
Concentrating on an odd building near the center of the village that was open
on two sides, Jeff distinctly saw an orange glow.

“Could
it be a forge?” Several minutes later, “I think it is! Son of a gun. Technology
rears its ugly head.”

Jeff
was so excited that he forgot himself and stood up. This is a dream come true,
he thought, I have to publish this! The absurdity of the thought was such that
it brought him back to reality and behind cover.

“No
way, bucko, do you go charging down that hill,” Jeff breathed. “You wouldn’t
get more than fifty feet from this spot before they took you out. Question is,
how am I going to make myself known to these folks and stay alive at the same
time?” Thinking it over, Jeff came up with a plan that promised to get him into
the village in one piece and conscious.

It
took some time to cautiously circle around until he was several miles south of
the village. He found a dense grove of trees and set the backpack down when he
was well inside. Extracting the recorder, Jeff draped a sweater over the pack
and hilt of his sword. He figured the former was truly alien appearing, and the
latter just might get him killed.

“Okay,
I’m ready. Here goes nothing.”

Playing
a sprightly tune, Jeff walked into the open and strolled along with what he
hoped was a confident gait. He had not progressed far before armed villagers
and a pack of barking dogs charged out of the woods to surround him.

Faced
with a thicket of spears and axes, Jeff’s throat clenched tight. Looking
straight ahead, he did not slow down. At the last instant before his chest met
a spear, the circle opened and allowed him to continue on. Although many
villagers were scowling, they seemed intrigued at the same time.

He
crested a rise and the village came into view. A short distance beyond the
rise, a man stood with arms akimbo directly across his path. Jeff drew to a
halt surrounded by jostling villagers. Two teenagers grinned at one another and
gave a third a hearty shove. He was young but in no way small, and almost
knocked Jeff to the ground when he stumbled into his back.

“Shit!”

Jeff
felt like he was surrounded by a pack of giant pit bulls, and muttered, “Okay,
you wanted to brazen it out as a minstrel, so let’s frikking brazen while you
have the chance.”

He
put a big smile in place and held his arms out.

“Greetings,
citizens of this beautiful metropolis.” Jeff had to stop and cough dry phlegm
from his throat. “I have come from a land far to the south,” pointing grandly
in the appropriate direction, “to spread joy and music. I can assure you that I
am alone, but the southern rascals tell me they plan to get up this way soon
and break some heads. I come in peace and not a little desperation, hoping you
will accept my offerings and not open my veins.” Jeff immediately began playing
a medley of tunes while assessing the impression he had made.

A
number of villagers still scowled suspiciously, but the majority seemed curious
and unsure how to respond. On the periphery, a number of younger men and women
were stamping out the time and children were whirling around in maypole
circles.

Well,
I’m still alive and they certainly like the music, Jeff thought with great
relief. The fact that I’m by myself might make the difference.

Turning
his attention to the villager confronting him, Jeff was impressed by the cool
assessment of risk that seemed to be going on. The man, who looked to be forty
or so, issued a string of commands and gestured for him to proceed toward the
village. A group of warriors trotted off to the south.

One
smart dude, Jeff concluded. Wants to make sure this is not a setup. The man who
had confronted him stepped into the building with the chimney. Jeff followed
with several warriors immediately behind. Peering around, he noticed the hall
had a beamed ceiling with planking laid on top and estimated its dimensions to
be about sixty by forty feet. The floor was rammed earth and amazingly clean.
Low benches were arrayed around the perimeter. At the far end, a pair of
split-log chairs cushioned with furs were set in a prominent position. A
fireplace constructed of well-mortared and fitted fieldstones bulked large in
one corner.

This
has to be a combination community and administrative hall, Jeff mused,
continuing to look around with what he hoped would appear to be careless
aplomb.

Seating
himself in one of the chairs, the man gestured for Jeff to approach closer.
This guy is most likely the chief, he decided. If I really lay into it, maybe I
can get through to his mind. Jeff was gathering a mental thrust when the chief
gestured imperiously. What’s he pointing at? My backpack?

Feeling
behind his head very slowly, Jeff discovered that the sword hilt had escaped
the sweater. “That does it for sure,” he groaned under his breath.

The
chief gestured again, leaving no doubt he wanted the saber. Jeff glanced over
his shoulder at the doorway to see how far off it was. Leaning forward, the
chief shouted a command and held his hand out.

The
tension peaked as he reached back to draw the saber. Several warriors crouched
slightly and raised their weapons. The saber slid from the scabbard with such a
loud rasp that Jeff nearly broke and ran. Instead, he held it across his body
and offered it to the chief.

Turning
the blade over in his hands to test the edge, the chief inhaled sharply and
wiped blood from his thumb. Well, Jeff thought sourly, that clears up one
question about their technology: they’re certainly not used to weapons that
carry a razor edge. The other warriors clustered around the saber to get a
better look.

“Now
I suppose one of them will discover it also has a sharp point,” Jeff grumbled.

Within
seconds one of the younger men jumped back with a yell, holding his hand. Jeff
shrugged expressively and held his hands out, palms up, in the universal sign
of, ‘Don’t look at me, I didn’t do it.’ With a peremptory gesture and command,
the chief stood up. The saber looked like a toy in his hand as he advanced.

This
is it, Jeff thought resignedly. Either it flies or I’m dead. No more killing.

Watching
the saber with intent concentration, Jeff was taken by surprise when the chief
snatched off his hat. The move had been so quick and unexpected that Jeff was
immobilized by indecision. When everyone jumped back and shouted what once
again sounded like alarai, all he could do was stare around in confusion.

The
chief let out a bellow that quieted the younger men and returned to a position
in front of Jeff, but with a different expression. Try as he might, Jeff could
only interpret the look to signify respect. He handed the saber to Jeff and
clapped his hands twice. Two youngsters trotted into the hall from a back room.
The chief spoke quietly with them and they hurried off. Taking a seat, he waved
Jeff to do likewise.