Four hundred pounds of grain wasn’t much when spread around twenty horses, but he hoped it would make the difference. Wading through the snow beside Cynic, Jeff sighed and patted his neck, relieved that they had any grain at all.
The weather remained clear and below zero for the first week, the snow was crusted hard, and they made good progress north. Then a moist frontal system from the south met the high-pressure cell and it began to snow. No blizzards, just relentless heavy snowfall.
Days were reduced to sodden misery as clothing became soaked, and nights to shaking nightmares that never seemed to end. Day by day they edged north, taking turns breaking trail through snow that was often chest deep. Food for man and horse rapidly dwindled, and the last faggots of wood were burned.
Somewhere along one of those interminable days, Jeff bumped into the horse ahead of him. The horse was so weak it didn’t even flinch. Jeff stared at its tail and wondered why it was there. It slowly dawned on him that the line had stopped and something must be wrong. He waded to the head of the line leading Cynic. There he found a sobbing warrior trying to get her horse off its knees.
“My friend, can you be of any help with this one?”
“He has struggled long and is of good heart, but has no more to give his master. It is his time to lie down and rest. He is very sad to leave us.”
Stricken by Cynic’s comment, Jeff tried to get the horse up but to no avail. Liquid brown eyes filled with sad resignation and regret, the horse lay down on a bed of snow and was still.
“May I use your knife, Captain?”
Jeff handed the survival knife to Elke. “Would you rather that I did this?”
“No, Captain. Storm was my friend. His spirit has been freed, now he would wish for me to share what remains with us all.”
Two more times a horse lay down, and three warriors did not awaken from a night’s sleep. Each time a horse died, the warrior who cared for him butchered the animal and distributed the meat. No one suggested that the rest of the horses be killed. To them, it would be the same thing as murder. Since the blizzard, troopers no longer viewed the horses as beasts of burden.
Through it all, Cynic endured with stoic determination. On more than one occasion Jeff was reduced to helpless profanity as he watched his companion grow weaker and so thin he seemed no more than a collection of bones loosely draped with hide.
They stumbled into the forest late one afternoon. By Jeff’s reckoning the trip had required nearly five weeks. Stronger warriors supported others who could not walk by themselves. There was no strength left for cheers or chatter. Scraping together the last handfuls of grain, troopers fed the horses and lighted bonfires.
Having made his rounds to check horses and sleeping warriors, Jeff huddled over a fire with Helwin. Her eyes were sunken, and cheekbones stood out like blades.
“We will remain here until all are rested, Helwin. Tomorrow we must send everyone out to hunt. Deer should be plentiful, but finding food for the horses is going to be difficult. If we do not find food we will lose them all.”
“My heart is deeply moved by their plight. They are most courageous.”
“Yes, but let me tell you something—without your courage we wouldn’t have made it. I’m quite sure I would not have made it.”
Helwin looked at Jeff solemnly, and thought, He is so thin it seems I might see the stars through his body. Where does he find the strength to lead us? My captain and my friend… Helwin felt something else at that moment, but hurriedly brushed it away.
“Our spirits are one, Jeffrey. I no longer think of us in any other fashion. I do not understand this. It surpasses, is not, what I know of men and women together. I am most fortunate to have served under you.”
Tired though he was, Jeff quickly looked down to hide a grin. Helwin realized what she had said and laughed quietly.
“As you would say, Jeffrey, ouch!”
They fell silent, content to share the fire and new hope. Helwin’s eyes drifted to Jeff’s face, trying to fathom what she was feeling. Why now? she thought. Why do I become aware of this now, with safety and hope only short miles away? Surely he must leave me.
She examined a bony hand and smiled. How strangely does fate beckon desire. Nigh unto death from starvation and still I would know his body. Helwin nodded to herself. Soon you will be lost to me, Jeffrey, but tonight you are mine.
Helwin got to her feet and pulled him up as well. “Let us give added meaning to what has been said, and what we have accomplished. Soon we will return to Rugen and, perhaps, separate destinies. If your spirit and body are willing, I would cherish what has been ours.”
Jeff said nothing for a period while he reflected on all they had been through together. Searching his heart Jeff did not find passionate love, rather another form that loomed larger and could not be separated from what he was. Fellow officer, confident, trusted friend, lover and something else that encompassed them all but went far beyond.
“I can think of no more wonderful memorial to these last seven months.” Jeff pulled her head down so he could touch lips. “I do not understand my body, only that it would taste of you. Let us discover whether it is capable of such.”
Leading Helwin to his bed, Jeff removed her overcoat. Lifting her woolen undershirt, he paused to feel her breasts and test their weight. They were much smaller but also firmer, and in shape gave no evidence of surrender. So like the woman. With a sense of deep satisfaction, he kissed each nipple in turn.
She held her arms up to the moon while he did so, singing softly. When Helwin stood exposed and gleaming in the moonlight, she was smiling into his eyes.
The wolf packs had been hunting the forest for over a week before the war party arrived. Seeing no reason to expose Balko to what he knew the troop must endure, Jeff had sent him on ahead with Balthazar’s pack. Balko and Heideth charged into camp early the first morning after the troop arrived in the forest. When they discovered that Jeff and Cynic had survived, they cavorted like cubs.
Throughout the stay, fires were kept burning day and night. Large herds of deer were wintering in the forest and hunting was good. Although Cynic was familiar with edible plants in the forest, it was winter. However, spring was not far off and new shoots were starting to bud.
After a round of cautious tasting, Cynic discovered that a number of the buds were quite pleasing. These were harvested along with several varieties of tender bark that were palatable. While not prime fodder, the bark filled the belly and had some food value.
When troopers and horses had recovered enough to travel, Helwin mustered what was left of the company. She and Jeff looked them over closely during inspection. As they walked along the line of troopers and horses, Jeff sighed internally. They have been through so much, he thought, yet will give whatever is left. He dismissed the troops and wished for a way to thank the horses. Jeff and Helwin walked into the forest to find some privacy.
“Well, Lieutenant, what do you think?”
Unexpectedly, Helwin grinned. “I think they’re keepers, Captain. While still tired, they’re ready to march.”
Jeff smiled at how well she used English slang, and was impressed all over again at her resilience. His smile softened, remembering. Although desire had required little encouragement, starvation had taken a toll on his body. It was only with Helwin’s gentle seduction that his body could do nothing but respond. So like Magda, uniquely Helwin.
“I agree they’re ready to march. What other questions must we ask before departure?”
“These are the additional questions that must be asked, Captain: what is the state of the siege, and are the remains of our company capable of fighting.”
“As usual, I agree with your thinking. The first question strongly influences the second and that first question cannot be answered at this point. Given that, how would you proceed?”
“Cautiously, Jeffrey, for the answer to the second question is—not a chance.”
“No doubt about that. Until the troop ha
s rested for some months I will not expose them to combat unless the need is dire.”
“Yes sir. Cannot you employ your gift for speaking mind to mind? Perhaps you might range Lords Carl or Gaereth.”
Jeff shook his head. “The distance is still too great.”
That was not the truth. Linked with Balko’s mind, the distance could easily be bridged. Down deep, something would not let him contact Gaereth or Carl. Some dark mood that grew stronger by the day.
“As you have suggested, Lieutenant, we will proceed cautiously and stay within the forest whenever possible until we understand what awaits us. If the siege is not broken, we will march to our camp north of Rugen.”
Neither Jeff nor Helwin could bear to mention another possibility. Rugen might have fallen to the Salchek.
That night, moved by a deep need for the solace of music, Jeff groped around in his gear bag looking for the recorder. Coming up empty-handed and feeling something akin to panic, he feverishly dug deeper. His hand touched cold plastic at the bottom of the bag. Grasping the cylinder, Jeff snaked it out. And blankly looked at half a recorder, the jagged edges of one end pointing at his heart like a spear.
He was immobilized by a sense of grief that went far beyond the fact of a broken instrument. Jeff could not believe that it was gone, that his music was gone. A tear gathered in each eye and quivered uncertainly. He was holding the mouthpiece fragment, raised it to his lips and blew. A squawking screech cut his soul. Two tears fell into the snow and disappeared.
Thirty-five surviving warriors and seventeen horses filed out of camp in a silent line. Jeff had made his farewells to the two packs of wolves several days earlier when they announced their intent to leave on an extended hunt to rebuild their strength. They also intended to do some recruiting. Both packs had lost three or four wolves.
A week or so after they resumed their journey, Helwin discovered a body sticking halfway out of the snow. Remembering the agony of their trek north, the troop gathered around the frozen corpse and stared.
The body was so emaciated it appeared more a skeleton than once a thing of flesh. It lay on its back with jaw agape and arms thrown wide. Frozen eyes stared into a future they all knew one day would also be theirs. Warriors who had faced death in battle without a thought began muttering sympathy and unease.
“Captain, this is not good. We must leave before fear of such death accomplishes what the living could not.”
“I agree, although my heart tells me that worse is to come. I believe we are seeing the answer to the first question.”
“Yes sir, but I do not understand this.” Helwin gestured at the body. “There is game aplenty in the forest.”
“The Salchek conscripted town folk, Helwin. Farmers and tradesmen, not hunters. I also suspect that this man was in desperate straits by the time he deserted. He never had a chance.”
From that point on they encountered many bodies. Huddled together in death, strewn among and within makeshift huts, more often they were curled up alone. Some bodies showed evidence of disease, others had been butchered. Jeff shuddered with revulsion as he looked down at a group of three skeletal bodies. A picture he had seen of Auschwitz came to mind, and he hurried away.
With spring only weeks away, a warm front moved in from the south. Sleet rattled down as they formed a skirmish line and moved out into farmland with bowed heads. Entering a burned-out village they passed hundreds of bodies sprawled in filthy sludge. Village after village, the story was the same.
That evening, Jeff wearily led Cynic into a field. “We cannot stop in a village, Helwin. There is no room for the living. We must search out a spot free of death.”
Camped in a muddy field, Jeff sat in a huddled knot. His stomach still churned at what they had seen that day. Reason kept demanding that he contact Gaereth or Carl. Unconsciously, steadily, he shook his head.
A tide of sadness such as he had never known fought to consume him, and a sense of guilt growled for recognition. They had seen only a few bodies that could be identified as Salchek. There is no excuse for killing civilians, he thought. How can I take pride in that? I will not call. Maybe we can slip into the city unannounced.
Helwin had never seen such an expression on his face, and fervently wished there was something to make a fire with. She moved over to sit beside him and draped the fur robe she had around her shoulders over them both.
They had started their last day’s march when Helwin spotted a cavalry patrol some ways to the west. As she watched, the patrol abruptly swerved to approach with drawn swords.
The lieutenant in charge was disgusted by their filthy, ragged appearance. He wasn’t sure what to make of them, but decided they might be a band of cutthroats out to loot the dead. They wouldn’t be the first he had run across. Making no move to greet the patrol, Jeff stood silently and stared at the ground.
The lieutenant was forming his squad when Helwin advanced. “Be at ease, Franze. We met at the Alemanni camp before the Salchek arrived.”
At the mention of his name, Franze Steppord held his arm up to halt the maneuver and dismounted. He walked closer, peered at Helwin and recoiled backward a step.
“Helwin? Is that you?” His face a mask of horrified disbelief, Steppord took several steps toward her. “By the gods, it is! You have returned! But what?…” Lieutenant Steppord hurried back to his squad. He jumped into the saddle and reined his horse close to Helwin. “We return to the city! The king must be informed! You will not be received as beggars! Shall I send assistance?”
“No, Franze. We have come this far on our own, we will finish it on our own.”
Steppord saluted Helwin, whistled shrilly and dug his spurs in. His horse leaped off with an angry squeal and the rest of the squad tore after him. Jeff resumed walking but did not raise his head.
By early afternoon the temperature eased above freezing, turning icy fields into quagmires. With each step the calf-deep mud threatened to strip boots, slowing the pace to a crawl. Some slipped and fell and would have lain there had not comrades pulled them out of the mud. After fighting it for a period, several could do no more than stand there and their friends were too weak to help.
As the troops had accepted the horses as comrades, so Cynic had accepted them as worthy of being horses. He suggested to Jeff that they grip the saddlehorn from either side and he would pull. His plan worked and the march resumed.
Sleet pellets once again came driving in from the south. Jeff hunched his shoulders in an attempt to lessen the discomfort, but really wasn’t aware of the sleet. Their discovery by the cavalry patrol had been the last straw. The possibility of a quiet entrance into the city was gone. Guilt dug long claws into Jeff’s spirit and dragged it down for a leisurely feast.
Reviewing all his perfectly sound motives and well thought out reasoning, he cast them aside. Jeff grasped thoughts of loved ones and safe warmth, what Gurthwin had earlier said, but they slipped away leaving only sorrow.
Somewhere inside his soul cried, why do I live when they are dead? Husbands, sons, daughters—stupid, helpless civilians who couldn’t even hunt. And you thought to understand and help people. All you’ve done is murder and kill. The refrain went on and on until Jeff unconsciously put hands over his ears in a futile effort to block it out, even as city walls loomed high and intact.
Reminded of his duty by the walls and a commotion he could already hear, Jeff stopped short of the south gate to form up his warriors. He would at least not discredit what they had achieved by having them look like rabble.
The south wall was packed shoulder to shoulder with smiling faces as they neared the gate. Both portals began to open, but were pushed with such enthusiasm that they got out of control and slammed into the stops with a boom. A blast of sound rushed out of the city. Drums and bugles sang an exciting martial air but were nearly drowned out by a multitude of voices.
Entering the city, a roar of greeting hammered them to a stunned halt. It made the reception for Rengeld’s Raiders seem like
nothing. Humanity surged back and forth, filling the street from side to side. A forest of arms reached through a double line of city guardsmen trying to keep a lane open.
Those that noticed Jeff’s silent tears applauded them as joyful, not the expression of a sundered spirit that had given its last effort somewhere on the plains of death.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Four-sided Triangle
The noise was a sustained bellow that was nearly unbearable. “This isn’t right,” Jeff said in a dazed mumble, “there is nothing to celebrate. I’ve got to get out of here!”
So tired he could barely stay on his feet, Jeff looked at all the smiling faces and felt raw bitterness. Why are they so fat and rosy when everyone else is dead? At that moment he wanted nothing more than to sit by himself in some forest glen free of death until peace should happen upon him, however long that took.
“Captain! Jeffrey!”
Jeff lurched out of his mental haze. “I’m turning the troop over to you, Helwin. I must leave.”
“No sir, you will not. It is your honor, and by the gods you will have it! You are my Captain, and I will not permit you to leave!”
The roaring crowd seemed to fade into the background as Jeff took strength from Helwin’s defiant eyes.
“Let us finish it, then.” Jeff signaled the troop to march, and they wound their way deeper into the city.
Lost in a fog of utter exhaustion and self-loathing, Jeff did not see the freshly repaired gouges on the gate as they passed through. In the city he took no note of buildings beaten to rubble and those blackened by fire.
The king and court were arrayed to greet them when they entered the main plaza, which was packed wall to wall with people. Imogo, Ethbar, and Rengeld were standing at the center. Close by on one side were Rogelf and Belstan. Carl and Gaereth gravely stood with Zimma on the other side.
Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) Page 54
