Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (74 page)

 
Locating the wolf packs, he arranged a
hunting expedition that included half of the warriors fit to sit a saddle. He
set the rest to digging out fodder for the horses. Jeff and Helwin left camp an
hour or so later to scout the caravan.

As
they departed, hunting parties were leaving on their own mission. Disgruntled
troopers stuck with the fodder detail watched them go with wistful looks but
got in quite a few telling catcalls before they were out of range. By noon the
clouds were breaking up, and the sun showed itself now and again. Patrols were
out in force, delaying arrival at the caravan until well into a short
afternoon.

The
caravan was hitched up and moving slowly. Squads of soldiers were slogging
through the snow ahead of the wains to break a path. A Salchek sat his horse to
the side near the head of the column. Jeff heard no orders, cursing or other
comments that he could assign to the man. A faint cloud of blue-gray smoke
seemed to be hanging around his head.

“The
guy’s smoking a pipe! Now that is coolness.”

Whistles
of encouragement ran up and down the column along with the singing snap of
whips. As they watched, a horse slipped and went down. Before teamsters could
get it up the horse had thrashed the wain’s harness to ribbons and other horses
in the team were bucking madly. The Salchek on horseback never moved. The
moment the situation was in hand he reined his horse around. To Jeff’s perception
it seemed the man looked directly at him.

************

Lingol
Bollit felt an itch along the back of his neck that he had come to recognize
and respect many years ago.

“So,
my impudent friend, you have come to view your handiwork. And right good work
it was. Certainly, Heskelit no longer thinks of wolves as no more than large
dogs.”

Bollit
reined his horse around. He knew exactly where to look and immediately spotted
a flash of red.

“And
so my worst fears are confirmed. The Tlakish are no myth and bring weapons
never recorded.” Bollit lifted his hat and flashed a toothy grin. “Yet let it
be noted in histories that follow this debacle that Lingol Bollit did not
shrink from his duty.”

************

His
first impulse was to dodge out of sight, but when the Salchek lifted his hat
and grinned Jeff was so impressed that he did not.

“What
class. That guy is a real pro.” Goaded by the Salchek’s panache, Jeff held his
hat aloft.

“Captain—the
wains!”

Jeff
stiffened at the urgency in Helwin’s voice and examined the line of wains.
“What is it that alarms you, Lieutenant? I see nothing remarkable.”

“The
teams. Look at the teams!”

“Holy
shit. Six or eight horses. How could I have missed it? They must be using
what’s left of the pack animals.”

Helwin
nodded glumly. “Yes sir.”

A
premonition of failure swept over Jeff. Rather than have Helwin see it on his
face, he retreated down the hill.

“Nothing
more is to be gained from viewing the caravan. Whatever devices the Salchek
employ to continue, our duty remains clear.”

They
entered camp as the sun disappeared, leaving a clear rim of green-blue sky that
faded into darker blues and black. Stars flickered into existence between
clouds in such numbers that they seemed continuous strips of light.

Warriors
bundling the last of the forage into sheaves paused to wave as they entered
camp. Others were butchering animals around campfires and joking back and forth
as they recalled the day’s hunt. Hunks of meat hissed as they roasted, but
larger portions had been set over smoky pits to cure. Having decided to visit
camp, the wolves were busy worrying their share of the catch.

Jeff
did not break the evening’s spell of good cheer by reminding anyone it would
likely be the last. Winter had arrived.

Memories
of that evening faded quickly as sortie after sortie was thrown against the
caravan. Yet it seemed to Jeff they were no more than a flea biting an
elephant. The caravan continued to grind its way north until he came to hate it
as a living thing. Although he caught glimpses of the Salchek commander from
time to time, they exchanged no more pleasantries. The man sat his horse as if
exhausted but seemed indomitable.

The
snow was soon reduced to slush as temperatures eased above freezing. More than
the snow, hub-deep mud slowed the caravan to a virtual crawl. The Salchek
abandoned 100 wains, firing them before flogging the caravan back into motion.
With full teams of draft horses, the remaining wains broke free of the mud and
moved north at a steady pace.

Covered
with freezing mud from the waist down, Jeff watched the process but was so
tired he couldn’t muster any emotion. Slithering backwards, he flipped over and
tobogganed down the hill on a mud sluice.

More
weeks passed, snowstorms became frequent, and the Alemanni continued to whittle
away at the caravan’s horses as it crept north. Down to fifty warriors capable
of sitting a saddle, Jeff doggedly harried the caravan’s flanks as full winter
settled in.

Late
one bleak and bitterly cold day in January as the troop silently rode back to
camp slumped over in saddles from fatigue, dark clouds raced in from the north.
Jeff examined the sky and wearily waved Helwin closer. He had to shout in order
to be heard over the wind, which was increasing by the minute.

“This
looks bad. We’re going to have to find better cover.”

“Yes,
Captain. In the North we would be bringing in extra firewood. Without trees to
protect us, the storm will be a total bastard.”

The
troop straggled into camp leaning into the wind and matted with hard-driven
snow. Jeff had to bellow at the top of his lungs to be heard.

“Let’s
do it this way, Helwin. That hill over there has a big drift on the protected
side. Have the troops dig out a deep corral for the horses and snow burrows for
themselves. Make sure they have food with them.”

Helwin
waved rather than try and speak. By the time the corral was ready it was full
dark and the wind had picked up to a full-fledged howl, driving stinging sheets
of snow horizontally across the ground. Staggering over to where the horses had
been closely bunched for warmth, Jeff checked to make sure picket stakes had
been driven deep. When he was satisfied, he made his way through the horses
until he found Cynic. Looping an arm around Cynic’s neck, Jeff gave him a hug.

“It’s
going to be tough, old fellow. I will be close by. If you sense trouble with
the others, call me.”

“What
can be done to calm them, will be done. In need, I will call.”

Something
tugged at his arm and Jeff turned. An indistinct form staggered as a
particularly vicious burst of wind shrieked through the corral. Probably
Helwin, Jeff decided. He caught her arm.

“Is
everyone set? We’re out of time.”

“All
is complete, Captain. I have ordered the troops to share burrows for the sake
of warmth, and have taken the liberty of digging a burrow for us nearby the
horses.”

“Good
idea,” Jeff replied with his mouth close to her ear. “Let’s go.”

Taking
his hand, Helwin leaned into the wind and pulled him along. Out of the horses’
lee they were forced to their hands and knees. In order to maintain contact,
Jeff kept his nose close to Helwin’s boot and a hand on her leg.

About
the time he began to worry they were lost, and his nose was really beginning to
smart from the cold and getting kicked, she stopped. Finding his arm, she
tugged him along into their burrow. When she fixed a hide over the opening, the
sudden quiet was both a tremendous relief and a shock.

Helwin
directed a stream of sparks onto a candle made of animal fat until it guttered
to life. In the feeble light, Jeff noticed that Helwin had lined the burrow
with pelts. They helped each other out of clothing that had frozen into slabs
and wormed under a pile of furs.

Shivering
violently, Jeff snuffed the candle and pulled Helwin into his arms. It wasn’t
until he began to warm up that Jeff thought how naturally she seemed to fit.
How good her skin felt against his. Sighing with satisfaction, Jeff let a hand
play up and down her back. Cupping a buttock, he pulled her hips closer.

When
Helwin felt his caress she slipped her hand between their bodies. Feeling Jeff
respond to her attentions, deeply reassured by his response, Helwin molded her
body to his and basked in the warmth. Within minutes they were asleep in each
other’s arms and beyond reach of the blizzard that battered at the door to
their burrow.

They
had not been awake long when it became clear that this was more than a severe
blizzard. The door to their burrow fluttered and jerked so hard that Jeff drove
more pegs to hold it in place. When he had it tight again, the piece of leather
acted like a drumhead and amplified the wind’s high-pitched shriek.

He
had been in some bad storms during his winter trek up north, but nothing like
this. Jeff listened with bowed head and knew that death was only inches away.
He felt such sympathy for the horses that it was painful. Later that day, Jeff
dug his way out in response to Cynic’s call.

“They
are most fearful, horse-brother. You must comfort them, or they will surely
relinquish the will to live.”

With
a line attached to his waist, Jeff fought his way to the corral on hands and
knees in the dim grayness that passed for day. Even on all fours he was nearly
bowled over. It was hard to breathe in the wind, yet he tried not to because
the air was so cold it burned his lungs.

Locating
their cache of tightly bundled prairie grass by feel and memory, he hand-fed
each horse while petting them. When he was done Jeff spent some time with
Cynic. His face and hands were numb and he had to leave after only a few
minutes while he could still crawl. Helwin pulled him the last five yards.
Inside the burrow, he shivered so violently that he could hardly get undressed.

Teeth
clattering like castanets, he crawled under the blankets, into her arms and
against warm skin. She pulled him closer to stop the shivering and their lips
met in a soft kiss that led to slow exploration. They slept and awakened,
cuddled and fondled one another then slept some more. Time passed without
anything to indicate its passage until it was Helwin’s turn to check on the
horses.

Each
repeated the cycle four times as days passed and they waited for the blizzard
to blow itself out. There were times when they believed it would not, and dying
of starvation seemed likely. On the third night the wind went insane and ripped
the burrow’s closure away on two occasions.

After
the second time Jeff double-pegged their last free pelt over the entrance and
hurried back to Helwin’s warmth. Huddling close to her neck he felt something
wet and discovered they were tears. Quiet tears, for he heard no sound.

Also
near the end of his resources, Jeff found her lips to give and receive
assurance. Tasting salt and sweetness, he responded in kind when they opened
and her tongue sought his. Groaning with long repressed need and the need for
hope, he moved a hand between her thighs and sought higher. She opened her
thighs and placed his hand where she wanted it.

“Come
to me, Jeffrey.”

When
the door was ripped off the burrow’s entrance for the third time they could not
have cared less. Bodies moving in ageless synchrony, their cries of fulfillment
and reaffirmation of life mixed with the shrieking wind.

Miraculously,
the blizzard faded to distant moans and light snow. Jeff crawled out of the
burrow under clearing skies and stood up to look around.

“Gods
save us! Some of those drifts must be forty feet high! I’ve seen big drifts
before in Minnesota, but nothing that approaches this.”

Helwin
hurried out to join him. Coming from heavily forested land she had never seen
really big drifts and gazed around with open mouth. She gasped and whirled to
stare at Jeff.

“The
horses!”

Two
had died during the final day and night of the storm, but Cynic was on his feet
and nuzzled Jeff’s cheek. He left Helwin to hand out fodder and checked on the
troopers. Four had suffocated after their burrows drifted over or had
collapsed.

Those
who had survived showed little emotion as they lay the plank-like bodies side
by side. Their gentle manner and quiet reverence spoke louder than words or
tears. There was no fuel to spare for a pyre, so they were covered with furs to
offer comfort in a new life.

The
ceremony was brief, for every warrior understood that their own lives hung in
precarious balance and hard work might improve the odds. Jeff sent his best
archers with the wolves on a hunt that promised to be grim business. Helwin
took it upon herself to catalog every scrap of food in camp.

Jeff
coordinated the hunt for the rest of the day, but they killed only one scrawny
bull that was left for the wolves. About the time Jeff noticed the temperature
was taking a nosedive, Helwin waded up with a grim expression on her face.