Ethbar was the first to move. Awaiting truth, he had not been prepared for its realization. While he had sensed no presence, he understood they had been visited.
“This has been a wondrous Telling. Wonder fills my heart that Jeffrey and Carl should come among us when they did, and as they did. I wonder at forces beyond my understanding that have brought us all together. As in the past, I am reminded that chance had no part. Our fate, one and all, is in the hands of the gods.” He paused until Jeff emptied the pipe and returned to his seat.
“The festival celebrating Rugen’s delivery will occur in seven days. The essence of what has been said and experienced here today must be conveyed to all that attend. They must understand the sacrifice and suffering that has been endured in saving their city.” Ethbar raised his arms in a sweeping gesture. “They must understand that what has been done may be done again, and so be sustained in whatever dark hours may be their due in seasons to come.”
Jeff and Helwin left for the Alemanni encampment the following day, accompanied by Zimma and Carl. Although still quite thin, Cynic was making a good recovery and insisted on going. Jeff could see he was chaffing at being cooped up and agreed, but saddled another horse and let Cynic run free.
As soon as they were out of the city, Cynic went charging after Balko and the two of them disappeared over the hill. When the foursome trotted over the crest, Carl pulled Sam to an abrupt halt.
“Oh, shit!”
Balko was almost on them and running flat out with Cynic giving it all he had a short way behind. Balko whizzed by like a blur, but Cynic was no wolf and thundered by with pounding hooves and only feet away from a head-on collision. Zimma’s mare, Pella, reared in fright and tried to bolt. Zimma had no more than settled her down when Balko and Cynic roared back over the hill and chased each other around the horses.
“Wolf-brother! Horse-brother! That is enough! You will stay ahead of us from now on! Is that clear?” Wolf and Horse slid to a halt. “You are far from recovered, horse-brother, and should you become ill from these exertions I can assure you of harsh words and long days in the stable. Now get out of here and keep it clean!”
Suitably chastened, the two friends trotted into the forest. Jeff watched them go with a shake of his head. He knew their pursuit games would start again the minute they were out of sight.
Balko and Cynic arrived at the Alemanni camp long before their companions. As a result, the place was buzzing with excitement when they rode in. As expected, it wasn’t long before the beer barrels were rolled out and the meeting hall set up for dancing. The warriors had never seen such a small woman and gathered around to be introduced to Zimma. The Alemanni women were as intrigued as the men.
Although Zimma was used to men towering over her, she felt intimidated by the giant size of the women. Helwin was taller than most of them, but there were so many. She felt like a girl, and got a crick in her neck trying to see their faces. However, it wasn’t long before she realized they had many interests in common. Their questions about her hair were so open and excited that she shook it out so they could play with it. Not to be outdone, the men waited their chance and spun Zimma into the dancing. Later that evening they sneaked away to enjoy some quiet time together.
“It appears that you and Gurthwin gave the Salchek no rest, Halric.”
Much thinner and more severe in appearance, Halric’s good humor had not suffered. “How we stung them, Jeffrey! We took your counsel to heart and plagued them unceasingly. Never will I forget the night we finally broke upon them in all our fury, scattering Salchek like leaves before the tempest! It was most difficult to withdraw as planned.”
Gurthwin was content to study Zimma and Jeff, then Carl and Helwin. He smiled secretly from time to time and every so often chuckled with great satisfaction. The Rugen contingent, including Helwin, left the following morning after inviting everyone in camp to the festivities.
The foul weather broke, and all greeted the season’s first clear and sparkling days with great relief. At Carl’s insistence, prisoners were put to work burying and burning decomposing bodies outside city walls. That accomplished, prisoners not of Salchek origin were released to find their way home to Astholf or Khorgan. Before they departed, each prisoner was supplied with a dowry of food and the means of defense. Although there were less than a hundred Salchek prisoners, their disposition proved troublesome.
Rengeld agreed with Jeff that the enlisted men and junior officers should be released. The number of enlisted was small enough to make no difference as combat elements in an army, and the officers were inexperienced. It was the six senior officers, two of general grade rank, which posed the problem. They understood every feature of the land surrounding Rugen, had taken the city’s measure, and knew how to exploit it. That, Rengeld observed, posed a danger.
“Okay, let’s interview the general grade types and find out where they stand,” Jeff said one afternoon during a prolonged debate that was going nowhere. “If we can determine they are men of honor like Lingol, and if they are willing to give their word not to participate in any aspect of this invasion, I think we ought to release them. If they are not men of honor, well, there is ample room in the dungeon for a prolonged stay. As I recall, they are both fluent in our tongue.”
They met with the two officers in the dungeon. Rengeld in the lead, they descended several spiral staircases of stone. The air was ripe with the smell of unwashed bodies, smoke from torches, and other odors that, perhaps, spoke of terror.
Entering a stuffy room that reeked of mold and dripped moisture, Rengeld seated himself behind a wooden table and invited Jeff to do the same. The clang of cell doors closing boomed drearily in dissonance with the guards’ occasional laughter outside the room. Shortly, the two Salchek officers were ushered inside.
Both men were clean-shaven, in their fifties, and neatly attired in surprisingly intact uniforms. The shorter officer, a lean whippet of a man, casually appraised the room. He bowed and took a seat when Rengeld indicated he could sit. The other Salchek looks around as if he expected someone to pull the chair out for him.
When no one did he remained standing and assumed a defiant posture. He was florid faced, somewhat paunchy, and to Jeff’s mind merely succeeded in appearing pompous. Maybe a prima donna, he tentatively decided. Rengeld had named them earlier. The one in the chair was Bithro Kalmit, the other, Citran Toltek.
“We are presented with a dilemma, gentlemen,” Rengeld stated without preamble. “While we do not wish to needlessly imprison you, release is impossible if that means you will rejoin the army of invasion.”
“Arvalia is a territory of Salchesia,” Toltek shot back. “We are not invaders.”
“Call it what you like,” Rengeld drawled, “but I would think that events to date indicate we don’t agree with you.”
Jeff rubbed his eyebrows to hide a grin, and thought, Yes, Rengeld!
Toltek’s face took on dark red hue, but Kalmit smiled dryly. “Well put, Commander. I must agree that our reception did indicate a certain difference of opinion on this matter. What do you propose?”
“We have had contact with one of your officers that suggests professionals of the Salchek Army hold honor in high esteem. On your sworn word as gentlemen that you will return to Salchesia and not participate in this war in any fashion, we will consider setting you free.”
“May we confer privately, Commander?”
“Of course,” Rengeld replied to Kalmit. When the Salchek had been escorted to a cell to converse, Rengeld sat back and looked at Jeff. “Opinions, please.”
“Not sure what to think at this point. Kalmit is a cool customer, maybe too cool, and Toltek impresses me as a self-important ass.” Jeff twitched his shoulders in a shrug. “Still, those are only first impressions. What has occurred to me is that we know nothing of their customs. Lingol was an honorable man, but how does that virtue relate to Salchek customs of behavior? What they term as honorable might not agree at all with our standards.”
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“I agree, Captain. It is possible that sworn word means nothing in Salchek society.”
“Even if it does, how would that apply to northern barbarians? We are not, you know, of noble birth.”
Rengeld snorted. “Thank the gods.”
“Amen,” Jeff said with heartfelt sincerity. “Do you know which one has the higher rank or more time in grade?”
“Reportedly, Toltek.”
“Well, that didn’t take long,” Jeff said with a surprised look out the doorway. “They’re back already.”
Toltek huffed into the room and seemed angry, or at least his face gave that impression. Kalmit clicked his heels and bowed.
“I have been asked by Senior Hetlan Toltek to convey his decision. Upon release, we will return to the Homeland and attend to military affairs in theaters other than Arvalia. Although distressed by this decision, the hetlan believes our imprisonment serves no end.”
“And the other officers?”
“I’m sure the hetlan will prove persuasive.”
Rengeld studied the two men while pondering Kalmit’s statement. Sincere in structure, it was evasive in substance. Kalmit met his eyes calmly, but Toltek scowled at a wall.
Jeff couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was making him uneasy. He found himself pawing at a breast pocket and smiled ruefully. Two puffs on that pipe and I’m getting hooked. Jeff abruptly stiffened. What the hell was that? Did someone just laugh?
The impression, for it was no more than that, tickled his mind again. He was only puzzled for a few moments. It hadn’t been that long since the Telling. Jeff opened his mind and smiled with pleased amazement as information was arrayed for his perception. The information was both foreign and quite interesting. There was one Salchek custom he was now familiar with.
“I am satisfied the hetlan will persuade the other officers. Before that occurs we will need to have your individual oaths.”
Jeff’s assumption of authority took Rengeld by surprise. He looked at Jeff with narrowed eyes, but they had worked together long enough that he decided to let matters ride. There was no doubt in his mind that Jeff was up to something.
“I cannot give my word under these circumstances.”
Well now, Jeff thought, glancing at Toltek, what have we here? What is he referring to? Which circumstances? Time to find out. Jeff drew the gomwok from his breast pocket.
When Kalmit saw the pipe, his mouth moved but no words came out. Toltek rushed to the table.
“You must tell me where you came by this!” He caught himself and bowed. “Please. Please tell me.”
Calmly packing the gomwok with sindar weed, Jeff held it out to Toltek. He took it as a revered object.
“Lingol Bollit granted it to me as a last wish far south on the prairie.”
Rengeld gripped the hilt of his sword and motioned to the guard. The guard had come to the same conclusion and summoned two of his fellows into the room. Kalmit not only looked like he was ready to explode with fury, his features had in fact transformed into something hardly recognizable as human.
“You stripped his body! This is intolerable! Honor means nothing to you animals!” Kalmit lunged at Jeff.
Action blurred into surreal elements that moved too fast for recognition. When time slowed to its usual pace, Kalmit was thrashing on the floor and his hands were being bound.
“Barbarian swine! Not even a chattel would perform such an act!”
“Perhaps,” Jeff said pleasantly. “I can understand your anger, yet I have given Lingol Bollit’s smoke to the winds and the Song for the Dead has been sung. We have seen the light of his passage and he is with me now. Will you share the gomwok in memory of a dedicated, courageous man? Will this not reveal the truth?”
The guards hoisted Kalmit to his feet. “I do not share this sacred ceremony with vagabond thieves,” he snarled. There was no conviction in his voice and his eyes constantly returned to the gomwok, which Toltek still held.
“May I have the pouch of sindar weed and the loan of your stylus?” Jeff handed both to Toltek.
Inserting the stylus, Toltek emptied the bowl into the pouch. “Please observe.” Jeff stood up so he could, and received a thorough lesson on how much sindar weed to use, very little, and how tightly to pack it, not very. Toltek handed the gomwok to Jeff. “You must know that sindar weed is worth more by weight than gold, yet the gomwok far exceeds such value for it is sacred, even as Kalmit has implied.”
“Why do you tell me this?”
Rather than answer directly, Toltek said, “Will you tell me of Lingol’s death?”
Rengeld had not heard the story and motioned for Jeff to go ahead. At the conclusion, the room was hushed. While Kalmit appeared stunned, Toltek was radiant.
“It is true. You have seen the Light of Passage. Will you tell me of the Song for the Dead?”
It was late, matters were not complete concerning the prisoners, and, more importantly, Jeff was not about to share the words with Kalmit.
“Perhaps later in a more worthy setting.” Jeff decided it was time to return the ball to Rengeld’s court where it belonged. “Commander Rengeld, my apologies for intruding.”
“Given the outcome you have my thanks, Captain.” He turned to the prisoners. “And now let us try conclusions. Kalmit, you are senior and have attempted to use an officer junior to yourself as a ploy to avoid giving your word of honor. Such an act, to use a man in this fashion, indicates to me that your word is worthless absent the gomwok. Either you share in its smoke or you will certainly remain imprisoned. Hetlan Toltek, I will accept your word as sufficient.”
“Lingol Bollit was my friend. I would share his smoke in remembrance.” He smiled at Kalmit. “Come, my hetlan, will you not join us?”
In the blink of an eye Kalmit’s face transformed again. The changes were so grotesque and horrifying that Jeff and Rengeld leaped to their feet drawing swords. Words of fury that could not be understood but which were perceived to fly from Kalmit’s mouth as virtual objects spewed forth in a chainsaw roar. Heavy with incredible malice, they caromed around the room seeking to extinguish life in murder and madness.
Rengeld and Jeff lunged away to the left and right in a wild scramble. Black foam sprayed from Kalmit’s mouth in stinging droplets and he burst the bonds on his wrists as if they were string. Yellow tusks suddenly protruded from open jaws and he sprang at Jeff.
In a brief twinkle of light, Berold flew to meet him with all the strength in Jeff’s arm. Penetrating chest wall and lungs, six inches of blade sprang out of Kalmit’s back to stand in silver relief. For one brief instant motion stopped. Kalmit’s eyes bulged and he emitted a deafening roar of pain.
Now the words were screamed, words of demonic command that blasted water from the walls in steaming vapor and sent furniture tumbling to shatter against stone. Green fluid flowed over the blade in smoking tendrils but could not quench the power of Light over Darkness. Spittle burned like acid on Jeff’s face and clawed hands ripped at his clothing. Gripping the sword hilt with both hands, Jeff braced his legs and forced Kalmit backward.
The body that had been Kalmit’s convulsed in great, wracking contortions that flung Jeff from side to side. Berold would not relent and remained entrenched as if locked in stone. And still man and sword endured as Kalmit thrashed on the floor in an attempt to dislodge the blade. Then Toltek was there and dropped a single shred of sindar weed. Brilliant flames of golden white joined silver steel and neither did they heed the cry of final anguish. So died that which had been born Kalmit.
“Do not withdraw the blade, but release it! Step back! It is not done! The man is gone, not the Yakul!”
Jeff forced his hands to open and jumped back. The sodden body on the floor twitched and slithered about like a serpent while all vestiges of human form disappeared. The face was black, had a pig’s snout and curving tusks, and red eyes glared around the room. Hair-covered hands totally out of proportion to the arms wrenched at Berold to no effect.
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“Get out of my way!”
Something crashed in the hallway and Gaereth burst into the room with Carl right behind. Gaereth took one look at the monstrosity on the floor and called out in a deep voice, “Begone, evil that was! Visit this land no more! Salag Toleth!” Green-blue flames leaped high in actinic display and Berold clattered to the floor, for the creature was gone.
Rengeld picked himself up and slapped at smoldering spots on his uniform. A guard lay sprawled on his back, sightless eyes wide with horror. His chest was split open revealing charred lungs. Nothing was left of his heart except a lump of carbonized muscle. Another guard lay unconscious but breathing in the doorway. The third was nowhere to be seen.
“About time.” Carl held his mug up.
An orderly cautiously followed the mug as it shook this way and that. He had become adept at doing so two mugs ago and didn’t spill a drop.
Rengeld dismissed the orderly and shut the door to his office. “Will the guard survive, Carl?”
“Yes, he’s not seriously wounded. The mental shock is another matter. It will be some months before we know the outcome. It’s the other one, the one that died, that really shook me up. From what you’ve said, Kalmit never physically touched him.” Carl glanced at Jeff. “I still can’t believe you actually saw words leave his mouth and fly around the room. What were they? I mean, that isn’t possible!”
“It might not be possible, buddy, but we saw them. That’s what killed the guard. I have no idea what the words meant, or what they might sound like if voiced.” Jeff frowned in concentration. “One of the words was short. I think it was…”
“Stop! Don’t try and pronounce that word!” Gaereth broke off a conversation with Toltek and hurried to the table where Jeff, Rengeld and Carl were seated. “If you even came close it would probably kill you. Do you understand me?”
Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) Page 57
