Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (61 page)

“Stay
close, wander no more.”
The tone of Jeff’s thought was severe;
his smile gave the opposite impression.

Dismounting
at the meeting hall, Jeff tied the lead rope to the saddle horn and entered
with Balko padding at his side.

“See
to that dumb shit packhorse, will you horse-brother? We passed the stable on
the way in. Somebody will be there to unload her and get the saddle off your
back.”

“I
will do this,”
Cynic replied, tacking on a long-suffering
sigh.

While
stupid, the packhorse had learned a certain degree of humility under Balko’s
tutelage. When Cynic headed for the stable at a trot, he didn’t even feel a tug
on the halter rope.

Taking
a seat on a bench toward the back of the building, Jeff listened in as Halric
and Gurthwin mediated what sounded like a dispute between two chieftains. The
men were red-faced and shouting insults across a table.

Jeff
murmured, “Yes, you have them, but that’s much less than half the battle.”

His
eyes adjusted to the dim light and Jeff spied a thatch of reddish hair behind Halric.
Craning his neck to get a better view, Jeff tensed. Gaereth rose and skirted
the chieftains.

Jeff
stood up but did not advance to meet Gaereth. Longing, curiosity, shyness,
anger—all fought for recognition. Balko sensed the origin of the turmoil seething
in Jeff’s mind and jumped to his feet. Crouching slightly, he quivered like an
arrow awaiting release. Gaereth stopped a good four feet away from Jeff.

Neither
moved nor spoke for moment after moment until the tension became palpable. The
chieftains stopped arguing and benches scraped on wooden flooring as they were
pushed back. Heads turned to witness.

Gurthwin
shivered at the ground swell of emotion that radiated from Gaereth’s mind. His
pain and need were overwhelming. Shifting his gaze, Gurthwin saw that Jeff’s
lips were set in a tight, thin line. Muscles along his jaw were bunched and one
was twitching. The dim light showed every line on his face, highlighting sharp
angles of privation. All softness was gone.

“Gods
grant that charity and compassion survive,” Gurthwin whispered.

Getting
to his feet, he moved a few steps closer and remained standing supported by his
staff. Pride and fear mingled, making Gurthwin’s heart pound.

“O
my gods, please let them find love,” he prayed under his breath. “I have served
you faithfully, do not abandon my plea.”

Chieftains
who had been ready to go at it only moments before stood up, crossed their arms
and stood shoulder to shoulder. Their differences were trivial compared to what
they were witnessing.

Slowly,
Gaereth inclined his head. “Grandson. My life rests in the hope that one day
you will find your heart open to forgiveness.”

Jeff
did not respond; was unable to find words to fit the storm of emotions that
threatened to tear him apart. Pain and anger finally gave a focus.

“Why
didn’t you come sooner?” Anguished silence. “You played with my head like I was
some damn robot, then just tossed me into a snowdrift and left me to die. I may
be needed here, but why would my grandfather do that? Please tell me.”

Although
Gaereth’s expression did not change, Gurthwin noticed a tremor in his hands and
felt a blast of remorse.

“I
am defenseless against that question. Only excuses remain. We miscalculated the
onset of the earthquake and seriously underestimated how strong it would be. I
intended to be at your side well before onset, both to allow you choice and to
accompany you here if that was your decision. I was at the lake when it
started.”

“Why
did you wait until the last minute? Why didn’t you seek me out in Seattle so I
could get to know you and have a chance to think about it? Damn it, I would
have come!”

“I
wanted to, Jeff. I should have. I’ve thought about little else for the last
year. There were times when it was nearly more than I could bear not to pull up
a chair at that tavern. ” Gaereth smiled wanly. “The night you tangled with
that nude hologram was one of them.”

Memories
of Seattle hit hard: Gado, Sarah, losing his job. “Lick and Swallow.”

Gaereth
nodded, but the smile was gone. “I wanted to be sure, had to give you time to
understand there was no place for you on Earth. Watching you take that beating
was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. It was only when I
returned to Aketti that I discovered how badly our plan had also miscarried
here—that you had not landed on Skene as designed but high in the mountains of
Arvalia. At that time we had no idea that Carl had been taken as well. As I
have said, excuses only. Whatever your decision this day, I will always live
with the knowledge that I was nearly the instrument of your and Carl’s death.”
Gaereth inclined his head a second time and was silent.

One
hand soothing Balko, Jeff’s thoughts tracked forward in time from Seattle. With
distant eyes he scanned endless snowfields and a gigantic mountain, heard the
forest’s whispering quiet that had nearly unmanned him. Remembered wailing
voices singing the sun to a rest that would leave him in darkness.

Those
memories abruptly gave way to the vivid image of a woman staring up at him,
blood bubbling from her mouth. His sword buried in her chest. Exploding trees,
terrifying aloness, dying screams—the memories went on and on. The whirling
montage slowed and came into focus. Jeff gathered a desperate bolt and blasted
it at the heavens.

Why?
Why did it have to be so hard? Why have I had to kill so many people? Tell me!
Please!

Gurthwin
could endure no more. It had to be stopped. He was about to intervene when a
zephyr of air fragrant with the perfume of many wild flowers and a verdant
spring wafted into the hall. Pulsing golden light suddenly flooded the hall
accompanied by a single crystal chime of such tonal purity that tears sprang
into his eyes. Every nerve tingling with joy, Gurthwin held his arms out and
bowed.

The
door to the hall slammed open.

Formless
yet formed of grace and appalling majesty, male and female yet neither, power
so vast it exceeded dread but softened by eternal laughter, gods strode into
the hall. Afraid to look up yet compelled to do so, Gurthwin raised his eyes.
Time stopped and held its breath.

Outlined
and suffused by incandescent gold, three forms of exquisite beauty confronted
him. Vaguely human in shape and gowned in flowing raiment, Gurthwin perceived
their appearance reflected no more than the moment’s requirement. The nature of
their faces, although crystal clear to insight and love, defied description.
Unable to bear the radiance of their features, Gurthwin lowered his eyes again.

A
gentle thought vibrant with power filled his mind.
“You have served the
welfare of this land faithfully. Know that your place in our hearts is secure.
We understand that you grow tired and fear your strength will fail in death ere
this task is complete. Be assured your flesh and spirit will prevail. Peace be
with you.”

While
the first thought had more of a sense of the male than female about it, there
was a distinct female cast to the second.

“Though
flawed by deeply ingrained anger and self-doubt, the young man has been
selected for this task. While we are aware of his pain and would ease its burden,
his search for identity often borders on self-destruction. We would have you
give testimony of his spirit, for he must serve this land and yet another.”

Gurthwin’s
face blanched at the responsibility assigned him.
“I am only mortal and love
Jeffrey. How can I render judgment to the gods?”

Delighted
contralto laughter caroled like a thousand silver bells
. “Come now! When
have your people, and it must be known the people of Jeffrey’s world, been
reluctant to do so? We are not immune to the many pleas cast into our realm on
his behalf, and your love for him is clear, but open your heart to us. We
expect no more.”

Reviewing
his conversations with Jeff, Gurthwin lifted his eyes with stern resolve.

“Then
I shall do so without stint. This young man has been used most foully by his
homeland, yet ever strives to find truth. Yes, he is flawed by anger of such
degree that it has slowed maturity. While destructive at times, his is an anger
that seeks reprieve from injustice and the repression of meaningless existence.

“Will
you argue that he has not been badly used? Cast from his profession and society
without cause? Thrust unknowing into this world to live or die? Maneuvered, not
asked, to undertake a task that would daunt a lifetime of informed preparation?
Wherefore should he experience aught but anger and a lack of self-definition?
Yet he has failed no portion of this task though on repeated occasion it has
forced him to the brink of death more severe than any which might be
self-imposed.” Gurthwin paused to consider his next words.

“Yes,
I do love him and would not see him destroyed by this conflict. Yet it may well
be his destiny. In the end, whether he is to live or die, his spirit is worthy.
I would have none other lead us in this time of great peril.”

Opening
his arms in submission, Gurthwin bowed his head. After a period of intense
silence, his mind was caressed as by a loving hand.

“Well
spoken, and nobly so. Be assured the burden of testimony we placed on you was
necessary. Jeffrey is not to lead immortals, but men.”

A
third distinct personality emerged. Crisp and lively, its aura seemed
unconcerned with gender but overflowed with a type of energy that Gurthwin
could only define as mischievous.

“Yes—a
worthy young man and fit to lead. He has confronted anger, is open to
self-examination, and shows promise of growing beyond the limitations of youth.
I greatly anticipate the outcome of such growth.”

A
brisk wind flowed into the hall, sweeping the three forms into a single
iridescent column of golden light filled with sparkles. Rotating rapidly, the
column rushed over to surround Jeff. He faded to an indistinct shadow.

While
unaware of any unusual presence, different memories eased bitter pain aside:
Magda standing like an ivory statue and beckoning to him, Heideth and Balko
loping through the forest, the moon’s silver pathway, Valholm on a spring day.
An image of Zimma standing with arms outstretched and smiling glowed into
existence. A single thought formed a halo around the memories and image: is
this not enough?

The
reproof was so gentle that its message was crushing. Turning his face up as if
to bask in the sun, Jeff closed his eyes.

“Yes,
it is. Thank you for being tolerant of my immaturity. For helping me find the
way. I will try and do better.”

“We
are pleased.”

Time
let its breath out and moved on.

Opening
his eyes, Jeff noticed that everyone in the hall except Gurthwin seemed frozen
in place. While Jeff watched, they began to move. He walked toward Gaereth with
outstretched arms.

“Grandfather.”

When
Gaereth and Jeff separated, all they could do was grin at one another. Gurthwin
took each by an arm.

“Now
we must truly celebrate. This day has been blessed by the very gods!”

Leaving
Jeff and Gaereth seated with tankards of beer, Gurthwin and Halric shepherded
the chieftains from the hall. Gurthwin hesitated at the door to glance back at
Jeff before stepping outside singing under his breath.

While
Balko and Gaereth were getting acquainted, Jeff attempted to reconstruct what
he had experienced. A few hints and it slipped away like a dream. What remained
was a clear memory of being cherished, and laughter that eased all pain.
Feeling immensely comforted, Jeff turned his attention to Gaereth.

It
had been fifteen years since they last met in Iowa, but Jeff could not identify
any changes. Gaereth’s hair showed no gray, his face was youthful, and there
wasn’t an ounce of fat on his lanky frame. Jeff thought Gaereth could pass for
thirty. Even his attire was the same—tall boots, leather pants and soft leather
tunic.

Gaereth
finished his conversation with Balko and turned his attention to Jeff. “Still
don’t know how I lived through that quake, Grandson.”

“It
was bad. Seemed like the world was coming to an end. Get beat up at all?”

“No
more than a few cuts. I don’t understand how that could have happened. There
wasn’t anything left standing around me.”

“How’d
you get out? The road must have been destroyed.”

“It
was, and nothing left of my car but flattened sheet metal. Didn’t matter,
though. It would have been worthless in that mess. Never would have made it if
I hadn’t run across an old pickup someone had hidden. I couldn’t believe it—not
a tree or rock had touched it.

“An
old Dodge four wheeler?”

Laughing
explosively, Gaereth slapped his knee. “That was your truck!”

“Damn
right. Haven’t thought about that gnarly old beast for too long. What’d you do?
Hotwire it?”