Heideth had been watching Jeff intently. She had been mentally joined with him for so long that she couldn’t help but be aware of his conflict. And just as Jeff’s spirit had melded with the essence of being wolf, so Heideth’s had become, in part, human. In doing so, she had come to view the world and human society from a different, larger, perspective. Where in becoming wolf Jeff had succeeded in shedding past and future, Heideth had become subject to both. Now she watched and struggled to understand.
Deeply buried within the roiling matrix of Jeff’s conflict was the image of a human. Instinctively, Heideth knew the image to be female and important to Jeff’s life. There was such a desperate sense about the image that Heideth reached out a mental hand to pull it to the surface.
“Tell us of this female, wolf-brother. She of the red fur. Is this one a worthy packmate? Will she join us?”
Jeff felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head. A picture of Zimma flared to near reality, and he dropped the piece of venison he was holding. She seemed to be crying and held her arms out to him. He immediately sensed Heideth’s intervention and something snapped, letting loose a torrent of anger that had been building for months.
Raising his head, a howl of savage fury burst from his throat. It came again and again until it was more a shriek than a howl. He whirled on Heideth with bared teeth.
“Am I your wolf-brother or not?”
Heideth crouched down and felt the ruff along her back stir at the fury in Jeff’s thought.
“We are one. I am not separate from you.”
“Then why do you turn on me! Will you attempt to impose your will on me, too?”
Heideth found Jeff’s question totally confusing. Her human referents were simply unequal to the task. She mentally bowed.
“My life is yours.”
Snarling under his breath, Jeff stalked out of camp. He found a hilltop free of trees to the south and stood motionless. Had anyone other than a wolf passed by, they would have taken no note other than to remark on the odd formation.
Some miles away, a hunting party from Valholm crowded around a fire throwing wood on at a rapid clip. The howling they had heard was like nothing in experience, but called dreadful tales to mind.
“And have we, then, heard the Ruckthor?”
The woman who spoke, a youngster on probation to the hunting team, had tried to pose the question in a casual fashion. The way she gripped the shaft of her spear argued otherwise.
Turning her back to the fire, Gerta tried to pierce the darkness. “What do you know of the Ruckthor, Bernik?”
“Little of worth, my leader.”
“That is correct. You are no longer a child. Reserve childhood tales for your own family if you should be so blessed.”
Accepting the reproof as her due, Bernik bowed. Inside, Gerta knew she had been too severe.
“Never forget the call, Bernik, for the beast which proclaims this anger has not been heard or named. But enough—Walther and Henretta, you will stand first…
Soaring high, an utterly desolate wail struck them to the quick. Gerta held her spear at guard but knew she was defenseless, for the Ruckthor lived on.
“Oh gods, preserve us this night,” she whispered.
It came again and again, growing in strength until warriors would have fled had it not been for pride and loyalty. In the end, the last wail faded in a forlorn diminuendo that left them bereft.
Spring thaw hit with a vengeance. Most of the snow was gone, and what remained was no more than slush. It was time to abandon the sled that had served them so well. Gratefully dropping its traces for the last time, Jeff packed up what could be carried.
Valholm was several long walks away when they encountered the first villager. Poised to run, he stared at them as they drew closer. Although Gerta’s tale had inflamed superstition in Valholm to critical mass, it was daylight and his legs had never failed him. At the moment, Hafnor was quite sure he could fly. He feared demons, suspected treachery, hoped for the gods, but was rooted in place by subliminal recognition.
Balko was on the point as usual. That’s where the action was. Jeff was the only two-leg he had seen, and the one drawing closer was quite intriguing. He was considering a tentative dash to see if the two-leg would run when the stranger let out a startled cry and raced north. Balko watched him skim over the ground with considerable admiration.
Some distance back, Jeff thought, And so it starts. If Zimma means so much to me, why do I feel so mixed up about returning? Heideth and Balko are more committed to following through than I am. The thought of Heideth made him cringe with shame. How do I make it up to her? I had no right to question her loyalty, but she was totally justified in questioning mine. A loving thought intruded.
“We are one. I am content.”
On the day they were to enter Valholm, villagers streamed out to meet them. A wolf pacing on either side, Jeff stalked along head swinging back and forth. When someone got too close his lips flickered up and down in warning. It was the automatic warning response of a wolf, and he was not consciously aware of his behavior.
Such was the effect that the warriors kept their distance. Wolves were never to be taken lightly, but Jeff’s savage behavior and appearance were in the twilight zone of experience. They were inclined to believe the gods were at work, but like Hafnor weren’t entirely sure.
Old friends of Jeff’s muttered to one another and began a slow chant as they marched along. Warrior after warrior picked up the measured cadence and clashed spears against shields between stanzas. Rising and falling in stately rhythm, the chorus found its heart and flowed over meadow and forest.
When the procession arrived at the meeting hall, the area was packed with people. There were many that Jeff did not recognize. Gurthwin stood in front of the hall supported by his staff, Halric at his side. The chorus swelled to a mighty shout and stopped.
Gurthwin advanced a step. “Your return brings joy to our hearts, Jeffrey. Long have we feared for your safety during winter’s cold.”
Villagers pressed close so they wouldn’t miss anything and one of them stumbled into Jeff’s back. He whirled with raised lips and a snarl that rumbled from deep in his chest. The man, well known in the village for crowding to the front of any line, leaped backward with a terrified oath. Balko didn’t like his looks and jumped at him with exposed fangs, completing the rout.
When the space that opened up was satisfactory, Jeff held his arms out for silence. He opened his mouth to speak. The words were there in his mind, but what came out was a growl. Those closest to him pushed back farther with wide eyes. Anger at what had been asked of him, anger at himself for having come down from the mountains, anger at the Alemanni reaction exploded in a howl that raged up the scale.
The circle of villagers surged backward with frightened cries of warning. The crowd’s response goaded Balko to make a dash at them, and a section of the ring broke and ran. Superstition blowing intellect to tatters, Gurthwin gripped his staff with both hands to control his shaking body.
“Wolf-brother, we must not fail at this pass!”
Heideth’s thought knifed through Jeff’s anger. He clamped his mouth shut but for occasional rumbles and called Balko to his side. Forcing himself to stand still instead of constantly turning in search of threat, Jeff formed a sentence. The first words had a rasping quality, but word by word Jeff sounded more human.
“Our travels have been most perilous, taking us to the gates of death. Yet the task has been accomplished.” Balko and Heideth were pressed against either hip as he glared around at the crowd. “Let it be known to all present that we three are one. Whatever is thought of my brother and sister is thought of me, and whoever threatens their welfare threatens mine to their own great peril. This I oath-swear!” Partially choking back a snarl, Jeff looked around the crowd daring anyone to challenge him.
Gurthwin was shaken to the core and struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. What had the gods done to this man?
Have we driven him to this? Comparing Jeff’s savage appearance with earlier memories, goose bumps ran up his arms. Surely he will destroy himself or lead us all.
“Let there be silence!” Halric raised his arms to quiet the shouts of approval. “Let it be known to all that I, Halric, from this time forward do accept Jeffrey Friedrick’s brother and sister as kin, like unto my blood. Whatsoever is done to their gain is done to mine, and that which is done to their peril will be answered by my arm and those of my household.”
The crowd responded with a shield-banging roar that startled Heideth and Balko. Gurthwin stepped forward.
“Is it not the manner of wolf folk to speak mind to mind?”
Following Jeff’s nod, Gurthwin addressed the wolves. “You are welcome to this village and all that is in it. Our leader has now accepted you as brother and sister to his pack. We are one.”
Heideth’s reply was to the point. “We are gratified, and will do what we may to serve the One.”
Announcing that a Telling would take place the next evening, Halric entered the meeting hall. Gurthwin trailed after Halric, followed in turn by Jeff and the wolves. Jeff took a seat next to Gurthwin.
“How is it that you understand the manner of speaking with wolves?”
“When no more than a youth, I once happened across a pack in my wanderings.” The crow’s-feet around Gurthwin’s eyes crinkled in amusement, and he shook his head in remembrance. “Well it was that I quickly learned to turn my mind to their way, for they were not friendly!” Gurthwin took a moment to examine Jeff’s face in an effort to fathom the changes. “Before we discuss what has occurred here, will you share your journey?”
Why should I? Jeff pondered. I have done what was asked of me. Must I share everything? As visions of the mountains’ winter beauty flashed through Jeff’s mind, low growls and whines escaped his lips. Heideth padded over to look into his eyes, golden-green into golden-green. Gurthwin shivered anew and pulled his furs tighter.
“It is time to share what we have experienced and learned, wolf-brother. The winter was ours. Now it must be theirs also.”
Jeff put his arms around Heideth and lay his head alongside hers. The feral gleam in his eyes faded.
“Your counsel gives strength and resolve. They shall have the greater part. You must never leave me, wolf-sister.”
“We are one.” Heideth sat down by his side.
Grudgingly, Jeff recounted the winter’s journey. “…While I do not know how many will come, enthusiasm ran high and seemed sincere for the greater part.”
“You have shared what is important to our need,” Halric observed, “but I warrant much remains untold. I anticipate its hearing, for the great cold of this winter chilled our hearts for your welfare. But that must wait for Telling on the morrow.” Halric and Gurthwin related their doings in Jeff’s absence.
Valholm’s messengers had been well received, and warriors from nearby tribes were pouring into Valholm. Smiths had also come to assist in the forging of weapons, and were stockpiling a vast store of arrow and lance heads.
“While last summer’s harvest was bountiful and hunting has been good,” Halric opined, “we must soon begin our journey south lest food become scarce. It would have pleased me to hear from the great city that provender awaits us at the moot grounds, but winter snows were deep and I am not troubled.”
“Nor am I,” Jeff agreed. “All must soon leave for the south. Let us share our minds on how we are to accomplish this.”
What followed for the rest of the evening was a discussion of all the details involved in moving six hundred souls over a hundred miles south to the moot grounds. When they broke up, Jeff hurried to the stable. Cynic was leaning against the side of his stall, half asleep.
“Goofing off again, I see.”
Cynic lurched away from the stall, stared at Jeff for an instant, let out a piercing squeal and reared. The stable roof was low and solid. Cynic’s head cracked into a thick beam. After things settled down and they had exchanged a bit of gossip, Jeff sounded him out regarding the wolves.
“We are now four, having a new wolf-sister and brother. May I bring them to you in the morning?”
“I have heard their thoughts and trust they might become friends. I will speak with them.”
On their way to meet Cynic next morning, Balko and Heideth wandered from one interesting point to the next. The village seethed with activity, and Jeff spent considerable time answering the wolves’ amazed questions.
Rather than cause equine riot in the stable, he left them near the edge of the village and went to fetch Cynic. When they saw him coming, Heideth and Balko jumped to their feet in astonishment. Balko was so excited he was springing up and down.
“What manner of creature are you?”
Staring down his long snout at Balko, Cynic’s thoughts were amused. “Two-legs term my kind, ‘horses’. While this name is most unsatisfactory, I fear it must be borne. We are swift of foot and mighty in battle, but only rarely do I find a two-leg that appreciates the full extent of our merit.”
“Do others of your kind have the gift of thought sharing? I find your mind to be quite intriguing and acute.”
Oh dear, Jeff privately thought, don’t lay it on too thick, Heideth. There’ll be no living with him!
All three of his companions caught the thought. Cynic twitched his hindquarters and sent Jeff stumbling away grinning and chortling. Balko wasn’t old enough to understand the humor, but Heideth sent a mild reproach in Jeff’s direction while hiding her own amusement.
“I have found none that are so blessed, wolf-sister.”
“Just so. Now, horse-brother, this one understands you have traveled widely. Will you share those experiences?”
Shortly, Cynic and Heideth were exchanging travel adventures and finding common ground, Balko good-naturedly tossing in the occasional comment. The wolves were impressed with Cynic’s run and stand against the hyenas, while Cynic was unable to disguise his awe at the wolverine and the wolves’ willingness to take it on.
After a period, Jeff decided a good run in the woods was in order to cement what was shaping up to be a great first meeting. It would also get him away from the press of humanity in the village for a while. He hopped onto Cynic’s back and the four of them took off, Balko charging into the lead with Cynic hot on his trail.
When they happened across a wide meadow, Jeff called a halt. Enough was enough. Cynic had cut through several dense stands of trees trying to catch Balko, nearly brushing Jeff from his back. Dismounting, he affectionately slapped Cynic on the rump.
“Go and play, horse-brother.”
Cynic bolted toward Balko, who lay crouched and waiting. Heideth sat down to enjoy the spectacle of horse and wolf tearing around the meadow.
“Will you join me, wolf-brother?”
Jeff sat down behind Heideth and scooted forward until she was between his legs. Wrapping his arms around her chest, Jeff linked minds and heaved a sigh of contentment.
By the time they returned to Valholm, Cynic and Balko were well on the way to becoming inseparable. Balko was especially excited for reasons that he innocently explained.
“Now we may run! The horse-brother moves swiftly and is also most devious in pursuit.”
Heideth’s ears dropped in embarrassment at her offspring’s lack of tact. Paradoxically, it was amusing to Jeff.
“Our wolf-brother is young and needs to run. It is also true that my sister and two brothers are much swifter than I. Together we will move like the wind in a summer storm.”
The Telling would take place outside given the mob of humanity now in the village and growing daily. The evening meal came first, giving Jeff the chance to renew many friendships and further acclimatize. When those inside the hall recessed for the Telling, they found the assembly area outside packed. A number of warriors had climbed up on lodge roofs so they could see. Halric gave the order and torches were lighted.
Jeff jumped on a stump and gave a Telling
that set his audience on its collective ear. Later, with the customary all-night party in full swing, he was forced to continually repeat two segments of the tale.
The first was his long march in the deep cold, the second their battle with the wolverine. It turned out that none of the warriors had ever encountered such a beast except in legend, and they just wanted to be sure it was as terrible as it sounded like.
Anticipating such questions, Jeff had fetched the wolverine pelt. With a group of ten or fifteen warriors gathered around, he let it unroll. They were stunned. For a brief period, no one moved. In the dim light it seemed the creature would spring to life again. When it did not they pressed close and muttered heartfelt oaths as they examined the pelt and judged the animal it had covered. That group eventually wandered off shaking their heads and thoughtfully stroking beards, only to be replaced by another bunch wanting confirmation.
Heideth and Balko were also the center of much attention and endured it philosophically. What really worried Jeff was that someone would try and pet them, an affront of such magnitude that mayhem was likely. It was a great relief when they escaped the melee without incident.
Images of Zimma intruded into his dreams that night, mixing with those of Heideth and Magda. Jeff awoke in the grip of feelings and memories that provoked a renewed sense of confusion.
What am I? he pondered. What’s happened to me? How can I want to take Heideth into the mountains, while at the same time be with Zimma and Magda? Am I that fickle? But, damn it, I didn’t seek any of them out!
While the debate ran hot and heavy in his mind, Jeff set patched clothing aside and pulled on a pair of leather pants he had left behind the previous fall. He suddenly realized they were the ones he had been wearing when he and Carl met the combined Alarai mind. Calling a halt to the debate, he took a deep breath.
Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) Page 37
