Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (49 page)

Making
sure he had scribed every aspect of Magda’s features into memory, Jeff studied
her face. Yet he could not capture the essence of immutable determination that
was such a large part of her being. He thought, How could I have been so
fortunate twice in a row? Someone has to be looking out for me.

“You
will trek south with Fastholm’s warriors as we have discussed?”

Magda
smiled, her eyes dancing with hidden magic. “If matters permit, but you must
know that I will come.”

Jeff
tried to decipher what was going on in her head. As usual, he drew a blank.
Shortly after meeting Magda, he had learned that she said only as much as
intended. When she had said her piece, that was it. There was no point in
trying to get more out of her.

“Though
pledged to another, I have come to understand in a small way that this world is
not stinting with love and will await your coming with great anticipation. My
deepest wish is that I not perish in this war before we are reunited.”

Shaking
her head, Magda smiled softly and kissed him. “I will come, we will meet again.
It is the gods’ will.”

A
last lingering kiss and she stepped back, smiled into his eyes and turned away.
Jeff watched her walk out of sight and felt like an arm had just been taken off
at the shoulder.

The
first night was hard. When he awoke without Magda next to him, Jeff felt lost.
The effect was so strong that it brought home how deeply he had fallen in love
with her. He lingered near the fire after eating to ponder his time with Magda.

For
some years he had thought it possible or even likely that he would never find a
quality woman to spend his life with. Thought that perhaps something was wrong
with him. Now he loved two wonderful women, and even more amazingly they loved
him. There was no doubt about it—they did love him.

During
long winter evenings, Jeff had related the entire course of his life since
being transported from Earth. Magda listened closely, often while sewing new
leathers for him or occupied with some other household task. Characteristically
she said little, yet Jeff sensed her excitement as events moved south.

When
Jeff described his relationship with Zimma, the few questions Magda asked
probed deeply. He did not attempt to disguise the conflict that loving two
women had created, nor was she surprised to hear he was in conflict. While she
was not telepathic, a synchrony existed between them that in some ways was more
powerful. Magda did not attempt to analyze the love triangle, or him, with a
flow of words. Rather, she accepted the triangle without the need to
rationalize it.

Jeff
broke free of his thought train and started packing up. It was getting on in
the morning and he had a long way to go. Cinching ropes over the load of supplies
on the sled, he decided that he was not going to find any easy answers.
Everything he had experienced on Earth spoke against the possibility of loving
two women without destroying the relationship with both. But he wasn’t on
Earth, and it was likely that Zimma and Magda were not human.

Settling
the backpack in place and tightening the straps, Jeff reflected on some of his
conversations with Gurthwin. Maybe, just maybe, there were gods looking after
this planet after all. What had occurred with Magda, Magda herself, gave
strength to that possibility.

Picking
up the sled traces, he trudged off with a feeling of strengthened purpose and
self-confidence. He had a job to do and was prepared to complete it both from a
mental and material standpoint. In fact, he could now extend his range farther
than originally planned. Thingel’s offer had opened up possibilities that
before would not have been feasible.

Most
of the tribes his warriors would visit lay to the south of Fastholm, freeing
Jeff to explore farther west. Although Thingel’s knowledge of tribes in that
area was sketchy, he had warned Jeff about their rumored belligerence.
Considering Thingel’s own thunder and lightning personality, that concerned
Jeff deeply.

Reassured
by the knowledge that he had three week’s rations on the sled and another on
his back, Jeff fell into step with winter in the mountains. Over ensuing weeks
he checked off villages until only one remained to be visited. It was located
on the Skola River and called Helstor, or Home of the People.

The
last two villages had advised skipping it. Neither village had anything good to
say about Helstor. They always went in force when hunting to the west. To be
caught out alone would mean your life. However, it was the last village and
Jeff wanted to finish what he had started. He would at least attempt to visit
them.

It
had snowed no more than an inch or two since the high-pressure system had
settled in. All moisture had been rung out of the air long ago, and the snow
was crusted deep enough to walk on without resorting to snowshoes. The sled
skidded along behind so easily that at times it threatened to run up his back.

The
terrain he crossed still consisted of rugged foothills with a few high peaks
and heavy forest dotted by the occasional meadow. On occasion he heard the
rumble of avalanches, but that risk was not new to him. While an avalanche
could kill you, so could a broken leg and a long list of other events. Either
they did or they didn’t.

As
time passed Jeff deliberately chose high passes that could have been avoided,
for they offered views that demanded comprehension. And so he would stop at the
apex of some boulder-strewn passage to while away an hour or two dreaming over
the land in its silent cloak of winter. Silence, white and gray, shades of
green, but always silence. Yet he would listen for the silence was palpable;
had presence. Over a period of time Jeff came to believe the earth itself was
speaking to him, promised understanding.

One
day he stumbled across a herd of deer yarded up in a meadow. Stringing his bow,
Jeff killed one of the animals and butchered it before the meat could freeze.
That night the temperature started to moderate, and by morning a skim of high
clouds had moved in. He suspected that an end to the clear weather was not far
off. By that afternoon the wind was bowing trees. Overhead, dark gray masses of
cloud filled with snow were replacing the high scud.

Jeff
stopped to think the situation over. After a brief interval he jerked the sled
back into motion.

“Better
make camp while I have the chance.”

It
was getting on in the day before he ran across an outcropping of rock that
would serve to protect the tent. Relieved at his find, Jeff was about to drop
the sled harness when he heard a commotion somewhere ahead. The wind made it
difficult to sort out the exact location or nature of the sounds. Listening
intently, he picked out fragments of a high-pitched snarling that sent goose
bumps crawling up his arms. He had never heard such a sound in his life. Jeff
had turned the sled to beat a retreat when a deeper snarl came to his ears.

“That’s
a wolf for sure. Something has that wolf at bay, or I haven’t learned a thing
about them. What could do that? Maybe a bear? Oh, bullshit.” He knew very well
what an infuriated bear sounded like from personal experience.

For
some time he heard nothing more. “The wolf probably split.” Jeff turned the
sled around. “I’m outta here. That wolf can run a lot faster than me!”

Jeff
hadn’t gone far when a shriek and telepathic image pierced his heart before
both were suddenly extinguished. He tore the revolver free.

“You
son of a bitch! That was a cub!”

Once
past the ledge he moved cautiously from tree to tree. Momentarily, he broke
into a meadow shrouded by gray dusk and the first snow flurries. Maybe seventy
feet in diameter, the meadow was splattered with blood. At the far side a
snarling wolf crouched over the body of a deer. Nearby, a smaller animal paced
back and forth in front of a still form on the snow. From their mental signatures,
Jeff identified them as an adult female and her yearling male cub. The creature
advancing in short lunges toward the wolves froze Jeff in his tracks.

Taller
than Balthazar by several feet, he guessed it had to weigh at least two hundred
pounds more. What was worse, its shape reminded him of a horribly mutated
wolverine. Stunned by its size, Jeff thought, That thing’s as big as a black
bear! Although it was longer of leg and had shorter fur than a wolverine, its
head and overall body shape were the same.

“Holy
shit. I’ve never seen anything that big move so quick,” Jeff whispered as the
creature advanced with lightning-quick jumps. The larger wolf waited like a
coiled spring, snarling defiance and not giving an inch.

With
a snow-churning sprint and banshee howl, the monster was on the female. The
scene dissolved into a tumbling mass of screaming, snarling fur that moved so
fast Jeff saw it only as a blur. Wolf and wolverine sprang apart just as
abruptly, once again facing each other across seven or eight feet of snow
splattered with new blood.

The
female had taken a wound in her hindquarter. It was bleeding copiously, but she
crouched back down over the carcass with bared fangs. Waiting for an opening,
or for the wolf to weaken from blood loss, the wolverine paced back and forth
hissing viciously. Jeff knew the battle could end only one way.

Maybe
a pack of wolves could handle that bastard, he thought, but I don’t think
they’d even try unless there was no choice. Stricken with fear for the wolves
and in terror of the wolverine, Jeff was gripped with indecision.

Looking
around as if seeking a way out, he growled, “Why don’t I ever have a choice?
That devil will eat me alive!”

The
wolverine dropped low and inched toward the wolf, a continuous wail rising and
falling through bared fangs.

“Oh,
dammit it all to hell!” Jeff stripped off his mittens and moved into the
meadow.

Colt
extended and steadied by his left hand, desperate curses he wasn’t even aware
of escaped Jeff’s lips in a steady stream. Heavy snow flurries whipped around
the meadow and light was fading fast, making it hard to see. The two animals
were so intent on each other that he advanced to within forty feet before the
beast whirled to face him and crouched down. Ears shooting up and down in uncertainty,
the wolverine emitted a warning snarl. The wolverine’s quandary gave Jeff a
moment to communicate with the wolves.

“I
am a friend of the brethren, wolf-sister. Do not be startled by the loud sounds
you will hear when I deal death to this creature.”
Jeff had serious doubts and muttered fervently, “God save me, I had better!”

He
pulled the hammer back to full cock for an accurate first shot and steadied the
sight on the animal’s chest. The wolverine made up its mind where the greater
danger lay and launched himself at Jeff, snow spewing out behind. Jeff squeezed
the trigger at the same moment.

The
wolverine had just pushed off when the slug struck, momentarily stopping his
rush. The thunder of the first shot still echoing, the wolverine dug in and charged.
The second shot sent him off to the side giving time for a third that seemed to
have no effect.

“Die,
you son of a bitch!”

Jeff
fired the fourth round and missed. Dropping to a knee, he jerked the hammer
back. Blood dripped from open jaws as the wolverine launched his body and the
Colt blossomed fire for the last time.

The
slug caught the wolverine at the junction of neck and chest and nearly flipped
him in midair. Jeff dropped the revolver to scrabble for his knife, but too
late as he was knocked over backward. Struggling wildly, Jeff kicked his way
free and pulled the knife. The wolverine lay only feet away.

Shaking
badly, Jeff frantically pawed around in the snow until he found the Colt. Not
ready to believe the wolverine was dead, he blew snow out of the barrel and
reloaded. After dropping three cartridges in a row he slowed down. Snapping the
cylinder into place, he poked the wolverine with a long stick. Nothing. It was
over.

 
Jeff approached the wolves in driving snow.
The female was sniffing the dead cub and whining. Jeff wanted to leave her
alone until she had come to terms with her loss, but it was nearly full dark.
If he didn’t return to the sled soon he might not find it at all.

“My
heart is yours, wolf-sister. May your grief find repose in the One.”

The
female raised her head.
“In the One lies hope and surcease.”

“Forgive
this one’s intrusion on your sorrow, but I must soon return to my den. I would
know if I may be of assistance. Are you badly wounded, sister?”

“We
will recover,”
she hesitantly replied.
“You are truly a
wolf-brother?”

Jeff
sent Balthazar’s symbol
. “This is our packmate.”

“This
one we know of, for he is held in high esteem.”

“He
is a mighty leader and friend.”
Jeff had no
alternative but to leave, and set off across the meadow in what he thought was
the right direction.
“Darkness is upon us, wolf-sister. Will you and your
young one share my den during the great snow?”