“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?”
Gaereth grimaced and spread his hands. “Yep. Funny the things you pick up here and there.”
“Hell, I don’t care! Just glad it was there to help out.”
“That it did, Grandson. Good thing you had a winch on it, though. Took three days to make the highway and nearly two weeks to work our way to Seattle. Roads were torn up, towns flattened, electricity gone—had to hand pump gas—it was a real fight. Afraid there wasn’t much left of your truck by the time we arrived.”
“Again, I don’t care. If a pickup has to die, that’s the way it ought to go.”
Gaereth nodded solemnly. “Well, anyway, without knowing how really badly we had miscalculated, only that you had been translocated, I paid a visit to your folks in Iowa. Tried to be clever and picked up some average clothing so I could pose as a distant relative. Your grandmother is one sharp lady, Jeff. There was no doubt in her mind that I was a relative, but she knew right off that I was a very distant one.”
“She doesn’t miss a thing. Never has.”
“That’s a fact. She also has an astonishing interest in life for her age. A lot of folks in her generation have given up.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“She never will, Jeff, and that’s what opened the door for me to talk with your folks. Your mother took it pretty well when I convinced her you had not been harmed, little did I know. Your dad was a different story. He’s quiet, but let me tell you Henry is no man to fool with!”
“No shit,” Jeff murmured ruefully, remembering occasions when he had attempted to do so.
“He finally came around, but not until Regina put some strong moves on him. She was so proud of what you were brought here to do that she was ready to burst. That is one fierce lady. She said her only regret was that she was too old to come herself and lend a hand. Stephen made sure that I would let you know he’s made up his mind to pursue farming, and that he misses you a lot.”
The news from home lifted a weight from Jeff’s shoulders. It was wonderful to hear that Stephen had committed to farming. Although he had studied agriculture at the state university, the issue had been in doubt for some years. With Stephan there to help, Henry could keep the farm going. A question that had been plaguing Jeff for well over a year came to mind.
“Tell me, is the Alarai home base on Aketti located on an island like England?”
“Yes,” Gaereth replied with a discomfited expression, “our homeland is on an island called Skene off the east coast of this continent. It has always been a safe refuge, maybe too safe. I don’t think anyone except myself has left it in the last fifty years.”
The look on Gaereth’s face brought a smile to Jeff’s. “You responsible for those dreams I had back in Seattle?”
“Afraid so. I was at the end of my rope by that time and sneaked into your hospital room. Things were just moving too fast. I had to give you something to hold on to.”
“And do what you could to offer choice. It was confusing, but did help.” Jeff shifted mental gears. “What’s the situation here?”
“There’s a lot of tension. Maybe ten or twelve tribes have serious blood feuds. So far we’ve been able to keep a lid on it.”
“Afraid of that. We have to pull them together fast.”
“It’s going to pop one of these days soon if we don’t.” Gaereth got up. “Let’s take a stroll around camp so they can see us together. Sort of a double threat.”
They left the hall arm-in-arm, Jeff briefing Gaereth on the situation in Rugen as they walked. That led to a discussion of tactics, strategy, and how to deploy the Alemanni in battle. The sight of not one but two Alarai moving around camp soon brought scores of warriors on the run. Many recognized Jeff.
Excitement grew by the minute as their entourage expanded. Ballads, war songs, recitations—all were underway at the same time. Conversation was soon impossible. It was clear that a Telling would have to take place that night.
It was after dark when warriors began gathering, some still gnawing on a rib or leg bone. There was a good deal of give and take between tribes while waiting for the Telling to begin. Most of the exchanges amounted to no more than the banter of people getting to know one another. Some were not. Conditions were crowded in the arena facing the meeting hall, and a number of feuding tribes came into contact. The tension was explosive and might have ignited into open conflict had not leaders stepped in.
Looking out of the meeting hall when he judged the time was right, Jeff nervously gazed across a restless sea of humanity that stretched well beyond the limit of what he could see by the light of torches. The big crowd was bad enough, but he knew that something far more potent than a routine Telling was called for. The future of the tribal confederation, maybe the war itself, was at stake. And it was his baby—sink or swim.
“What can I possibly say that will pull them together?” Jeff anxiously said. “So many bitter rivalries!”
He reviewed century upon century of murderous ethnic conflict on Earth, and the repeatedly fruitless attempts to mediate a lasting peace.
“Words, words! They haven’t been effective on Earth, why should I expect them to work here? You kill my people, I kill yours. I want your land, you can’t have mine. That’s what it always boils down to.” A hand squeezed his shoulder.
“It’s going to be a tough sell, Jeff, but you have what it takes.”
“Wish I had your confidence, Gaereth. I don’t have any idea what to say. What can be said in one speech to heal years of bloodshed?”
“It may be that what must be expressed to them will have to come from the heart, not your head. You know the Alemanni better than any person on this planet. What are the unifying, common threads present in all of their lives?”
“I don’t know!”
“Yes, I think you do.”
Gaereth lighted several torches from the fireplace and stepped out onto the porch. “It’s time, Grandson. Free your heart to speak what it must.”
An excited rumble swept away from the hall when the Alemanni saw Jeff. He stepped into the pool of light searching for words, but his mind was blank. Crowd noise decreased minute by minute until there was no sound except that of a gentle breeze sighing through the trees. The larger moon sailed into view fully revealing the number of people. The arena was packed.
God help me, I don’t know what to say! Jeff thought desperately. I’m going to lose them!
Nearby but out of the torchlight, Gaereth stood with Gurthwin and watched the agony of indecision that played across Jeff’s features. Crossing his arms he let his mind drift far back through time to other deep-forest arenas, and was unconcerned.
Torches sparked, died, and were replaced. The silence continued until it took on a life of its own. A grumbling mutter of unease slowly began to build. Alemanni toward the front were shifting restlessly. A wave of emotion emanated from Jeff, and Gaereth smiled. Standing up straight, Jeff held his arms out to the Alemanni and raised his voice.
“Shall we sing of life and hope, sing of joy
and spring?
Shall we wander in snow and cold, reft of
hope in promise foretold?
Now we sit and groan, winte
r that grasps and
winds that moan.
But still we know the joy of old!
Life is strong and shall return, as the sun from
long sojourn.
Let us sing of joy and spring!”
Jeff’s voice wavered at first, grew in strength with each line, and steadied into an uncertain bass at the refrain. Gaereth stepped into the light, tenor and bass melding in two-part harmony.
“Now we seek our heart’s desire, seek the
hearth and warmth of fire.
Meet with friends and all be merry, recalling
life that will not tarry.
Bless our children, love in holding, faith in
family ne’er beholden.
Let us sing of joy and spring!”
Somewhere in the crowd a feminine voice soared to join the Song of Life in a rich soprano, and was joined by others across the arena. Then, as if directed by the fall of a baton, thousands of men and women burst into the next stanza.
“Feel the promise that moves within, dream of
all that shall begin.
Cries of life that greet the day, we sing and dance,
let all be gay!
Child and youth, strong and firm, now our
hope then cherished in turn.
Let us sing of joy and spring!”
Stanza by stanza, irresistibly, the song caught a strength that Jeff had not heard before. A strength that could not be stayed as it soared over meadow and forest until it disappeared into some realm deep within the star-sprinkled sky.
When the last voice faded away, when the Alemanni came back to the present and realized what they had wrought, the only sound to be heard was that of weeping.
Jeff wiped at his eyes and gripped the porch railing. “The Song of Life! And who did not know the words? And who did not lend his voice to its power?” Jeff drew himself up and pounded his fist onto the railing. “Why, then, do you slay one another! Why do you end the lives of brothers and sisters!”
Some of those nearest the porch recoiled at the anger in his words, many turned to look at unfamiliar faces. Having stepped back from the light, Gaereth saw other warriors doing the same farther back.
“Hang onto them, Grandson,” he whispered. “You have them thinking.”
“Indeed they are,” Gurthwin whispered back. “I am deeply moved by the power of this moment.”
Jeff wanted to pace very badly, but would not risk breaking rapport with his audience.
“Now I will ask you—why did you accept me into your villages? Because my hair is not like yours? Because my skin is darker? Is this the difference between life and death? The color of hair and skin?
“You did not despise me! All villages, all tribes fed and clothed me; gave warmth and affection in full measure. Nearly I died in the great cold that crushes the spirit while drawing life from the body. Sharing your warmth my life was renewed, but my spirit was defeated. I became lost in despair, unmanned by the sweating fear of death. Yet you did not despise me! Seeing my peril you opened your hearts, shared your warmth; returned my soul from its wandering.”
Caught up by memories and emotion, Jeff threw his arms wide. “But tell me, I will have you tell me! Why do you despise brothers and sisters from unknown villages? Why do you war with those who live nearby? Have you never wondered that outlanders refer to you one and all as yellow-hairs? That you speak the same tongue across your land, have the same customs and cherish song? How can it be but that you have sprung from the same seed? What are the differences that warrant suspicion and warfare?”
Some warriors nodded thoughtfully, but many of those Jeff could see clearly were frowning in doubt. Quite a few were scowling and a number of these turned their backs to the porch and walked away.
A group to the side shook their fists and one of them shouted, “We are not of the same family! Blood will be avenged by blood!”
Jeff stabbed his arm out in a broad sweep, and his voice dripped scorn.
“Remember old grievances if you will. Plot revenge and dwell on murder if this is your way. Take joy in the thought of motherless and fatherless children who are like unto your own flesh. Do so and surrender this land to others.” Jeff threw his arms up in disgust and stepped out of the light.
“What are you doing, Jeff?” Gaereth muttered under his breath “You’re throwing it away!”
Gurthwin patted Gaereth on the shoulder in support. “Have faith in what you earlier said, my friend. He is chancing it all on a throw of the bones, but when has Jeffrey been loath to risk failure? I must also tell you he had no choice in this matter. He does, indeed, understand our people and has placed their future where it must reside—in their hands.”
At the far end of the porch, Jeff leaned his arms on the railing and bowed his head. Unease, hoarse mutters, angry voices raised in argument, a scuffle off to one side. A vast groan of indecision swept the crowd.
“No, no, no!”
The voice was so replete with urgency that Jeff raised his head to search for the source. He saw a man forcing his way toward the porch but could not make out his features. A way was opened, he bounded onto the porch, and Jeff recognized him at once. He was relatively young, somewhere in his thirties, and stepped into the torchlight. Immediately following, a young woman holding a child in her arms joined him.
Holding the child up, she turned from side to side a number of times. She stopped abruptly and cried out, “Behold our children!”
A man at the front began to weep with great sobs as he looked on the child. His emotion was so strong that great tears of love and grief sprang into many other eyes as warriors remembered. The child became frightened and began to cry. Unfastening a flap of her tunic, the woman put the child to her breast to suckle. Her husband enclosed them with a massive arm.
“Our child! Your child! Our land!” He shook his head. “You do not know me, for my village lies far to the west. For untold years we have held ourselves aloof from all congress, deeming our might and valor above such intermingling. I would have turned on our War Leader had he not shown great wisdom and restraint. I demanded that he prove his courage in single combat! A man who would brave full winter to warn us of great peril, and I questioned his courage! But we have come, and I am humbled. I am humbled! How is it that I dare speak such a thing?”
Although he did not move from his corner, Jeff stood up straight and gazed at the man with a great sense of satisfaction. It was Therkan from Helstor.
“I dare speak of being humbled,” Therkan continued, “for I would not again stand alone. I stand here, for I would no longer be separate from my brethren. The power of this people! The strength of our spirit! We have never known its like.”
“Nor have I!”
A woman no longer a youth, and clearly a chieftain, ran up the stairs to the porch and confronted the couple.
“Coming from lands to the east we do not know of your village, and regret this is so.” The chieftain smiled at the young woman. “What is your name?”
“Silfin, my husband, Therkan.”
“I am called Farnil. May I share this honor?”
At Silfin’s nod, Farnil faced the crowd and methodically slipped an arm out of her leather tunic to expose a breast. Accepting the child from Silfin, she placed him to her breast and inserted the nipple. Still hungry, he began to suckle with renewed vigor. No words were necessary, none were offered, the crowd went wild.
Chieftain after chieftain hurried to the porch and shouted their support over the uproar of singing, drums and fifes that swept the arena. Therkan moved from the limelight to speak with Jeff. Grave yet animated, Therkan inclined his head.
“I am at your service, as are the people of my village.”
“You and Silfin will never be forgotten. Your words and actions will be remembered as the force that molded this people into one. Your service is accepted with great pleasure.”
“I am honored, but perhaps there is another service to perform this night.” Therkan gestu
red toward the arena. The uproar had not abated in the least. “We have yet to hear of our enemy, and I fear that this will not occur without intervention.”
Therkan’s toothy smile brought a grin to Jeff’s face. “What do you suggest?”
With a massive shrug, Therkan returned to the limelight where he and other chieftains bellowed orders to settle down. Jeff used the time to help Gaereth replace the torches once again before they set the porch on fire.
“Never seen anything like this, Jeffrey. Never,” Gaereth said in a subdued, reverent voice.
“They are a wonderful people,” Jeff replied, sticking the last torch into a sconce. “Now I’m going to add the other part they really love.”
“Breaking heads.”
“You got it, but this time not each others.”
“They’re getting tired. Better keep it short.”
“Short as possible, and very sweet.”
Gaereth withdrew, as did the chieftains, leaving Jeff alone in the renewed circle of light. He held his arms up for silence.
“This night you have discovered kinship. This night you have become one people, and I name you the Alemanni. A name of power that the Salchek invaders will learn to fear, for they are here. The Iron-shirts are not a people of myth, they are here! I have fought them! Now listen to the full tale and dream of the part you will play in that which is to come.”
Jeff summoned Balko to his side and dropped into the ritual of Telling. Many had not heard the tale, and those who had would listen to it a hundred times given the opportunity.
As he proceeded to the discovery of the Salchek Army moving north, a rumble of anger swelled in the background. A deathly silence settled as he described the trek south, their preparations for the attack, and the coming of the wolves. That proved to be too much. A thundering clash of sound rose from the crowd as they pounded shields and screamed war cries.
“And then we smote them, Alemanni. We fell upon them with vengeance and smote them! Arrogant they were, and lazy in insolence. And we smote them! We fired their wagons and scattered their horses while they screamed their fear into the night! They bled and died did the mighty Salchek, and many still are running. Two hundred we were against their thousands, yet they ran screaming into the night.
Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) Page 44
