Rebels of Akrona

Part One

by G. Lawrence

Escaped slaves on an alien planet

In Slave of Akrona, a young soldier had been taken captive on a conquered planet 1,200 light years from Earth. Finding the slaves impoverished and often harvested by their alien masters, he sought to improve life in the camps. And was successful for a time. When it all collapsed, he escaped into the mountains with his pregnant wife and 9-year-old nephew. Rebels of Akrona is being told in eight parts.

* * * * * *

The price one pays for freedom is to compromise with reality

-- Master Shoa

Chapter One

AMONG THE MOUNTAINS

The slave camp lay three days behind them. Moving under thick trees, Grey continued pushing Shalli and Garn forward. When one or the other grew too tired to walk, he'd carry them. After sixty kilometers on narrow forest trails, they finally took shelter along a fast-moving creek.

"It's like you thought," young Garn said. "They must be searching near the camp. They'll never look for us this far away."

"In time, they'll look as far as they need to," Grey said, watching the skies for aircraft.

"You are used up, my husband," Shalli said, searching for food in their backpacks.

"We'll rest through the day, then start again after dark," Grey said. "There will be two moons tonight, and we have far to travel."

He dug into the pouch of tools that Black Hands had given Shalli, taking out a thin sawblade.

"What are you doing?" Shalli asked.

"Cutting that slave collar off you," Grey said, sitting next to her and slowly sawing through the lock. The collar was made of a bronze alloy, thin but strong. Shalli and Garn had worn the collars all of their lives. Grey had only worn his collar since arriving at Karak seven years before.

A few minutes later, the collar came off. Shalli rubbed her neck, feeling naked without it. Garn was next, finding the sensation equally strange. Grey stuck the collars in a bag should the metal be needed for arrowheads.

"What about your collar, Ben?" Shalli asked.

"I'll take my collar off when our people are free," Grey answered, putting the blade away.

"Where will we go now?" Garn asked, a bright nine-year-old on his first great adventure. Tall for his age, Clagg and Myra had insisted he escape with his aunt, knowing life in Karak might be short following the insurrection. He had the flat brownish face of his mother, the curly auburn hair of his father, and Shalli's deep blue eyes.

"There are lakes to the southeast. There are also many rivers, great forests, and probably caves," Grey said. "Many deer live in the meadows, and elk, and horses. The masters will have trouble finding us in such a place."

"Maybe we can catch horses to ride, like the ones in your stories," Garn said.

"Maybe many horses," Grey agreed. "And living among herd animals will make it easier to find food and hides. It will be a good life."

"Will it take long to get there?" Garn asked.

"A few weeks, I think," Grey said. "Once the masters realize we're not hiding near Karak, they'll send shaba'kar out to patrol the skies. Traveling by day will be harder."

"We'll need more rest, I think. Your daughter grows restless," Shalli said, feeling a kick from within. Eight months pregnant, the journey would be hard but necessary. Only death awaited them if captured.

"The lake country is beautiful. Gamtro and I hunted there," Grey mentioned, wrapping his arms around his wife. "Our daughter will be one with the forest. She'll grow up happy. And free."

Garn smiled, pleased by the look of contentment on Shalli's tired face. Grey did not look content, but he was exhausted.

"You should rest, Ben," Shalli urged, pushing back her long blonde hair. Now in her mid-twenties, graceful and energetic, life at Karak had made her strong. But she would also be having a baby soon. The escape left her weary.

Grey acknowledged her advice, but his name was not really Ben. After his capture by the Arikhan, he had found it necessary to use his middle name of Benjamin rather than reveal his true identity. Few knew he had been born on a planet twelve hundred light years away.

"Wake me if there's trouble," he said, crawling under a thick bush. Within minutes he fell asleep.

Shalli put a blanket over his shoulders and gave him a kiss. Her mysterious husband was neither tall nor short, slim nor stocky. She knew he had been a warrior in a previous life, and married, though that had been many years ago. His cool gray eyes could glisten with intelligence or darken with deadly intent. Approaching his late-thirties, he was fifteen years older than his young wife--a difference that had troubled him at first. His shaggy brown hair was turning gray at the temples.

"Thank you for helping us so much," Shalli whispered to Garn. "And thank you for being so brave. You're going to need many brave days. More than you know."

"What do you mean?" Garn asked.

"Ben tries to reassure us, but Lady Gamtra gave me much warning. The masters won't stop looking for us. That's why I brought the fur coats. We won't be going to the lake country. Their patrols will force us high into the mountains where it's cold. Only their airships can look for us there. Maybe we can find a good cave and hide for a long time."

Shalli opened a pouch of dry vegetables, added water from the creek, and placed it over a small fire. Garn moved in close, watching how she did it.

"We must seek a safe place for the baby to be born," Shalli quietly said. "There may not be much food in the mountains. If the masters find us, even Ben cannot fight them all. You might need to go on by yourself. After the baby comes, she might be your responsibility. Take care of her always."

"Ben will protect us. Ben has always protected us."

"I think you will need to protect Ben. He can't forgive himself for what happened to Tak and her babies. He feels guilty that he couldn't help our people. Ben isn't like us. He was raised to be smarter and braver than anyone else. He was expected to be perfect. But Ben isn't perfect. He knows fear, maybe even more than we do. And he's known failure. When he gets in one of his moods, don't be afraid. He isn't angry at you, but at himself."

"What should I do?" Garn asked, frightened by Shalli's dark words.

"Just be yourself. You're family. He won't feel the burdens so deeply with you to help him."

"With us to help him," Garn said.

"Yes, with us to help him," Shalli agreed.

* * * * * *

"A sho'kar!" Garn shouted, running from the meadow to a shelter of pulled down branches.

It was late afternoon. The winter grasses were mostly yellow. If not for the river, the meadow would be nothing but weeds.

As Shalli threw a fur over their small cooking fire, Grey tucked the two stolen pistols in his belt, drew the energy blaster that Mordari had given them, and positioned himself behind a fallen log where he could watch the enemy approach. Dressed in brown woolens, the fugitives blended into the brush, but that didn't mean the Arikhan wouldn't find them.

The short-winged silver scout ship circled the grassy field propelled by two hydrogen powered jets. Carrying only a pilot and an observer, Grey didn't expect it to land. Within minutes, a larger aircraft appeared above the horizon to the west.

"It's a shaba'kar," Garn said, pointing at the modest-sized troop transport.

The shaba'kar circled the field before setting down in the meadow. The cigar-shaped craft was sixteen meters long and five meters in diameter with a large cargo bay, operating on four maneuvering jets. When the side hatch dropped open, eight well-armed Varbatro soldiers emerged to begin a practiced search pattern. The tall alien warriors wore light body armor, their large eyes darting from side to side as they sought an elusive prey. Garn scrambled into the burrow and huddled next to Shalli.

"Ben, come inside," Shalli called.

"Stay quiet," Grey whispered.

He watched the patrol spread out toward the woods and down to the river they had been following. The soldiers were not aiming their slender-stemmed weapons, nor did they appear especially concerned.

Then one of the searchers started walking uphill in their direction. Grey drew his steel hunting knife but stayed low, unwilling to reveal his position unless necessary. The gully where they had built the shelter was well back from the river, surrounded by a dense growth of trees.

The sho'kar flew another pass over the grassy field searching with heat scanners, but the woods were full of deer and various wild animals. Heat registrations would not reveal their location.

The Arikhan soldier continued to approach, glancing in every direction. Grey sensed boredom in his expression. Better than two meters in height, with skinny legs, knobby knees and long arms, the leathery creature searched with cold black eyes staring out from yellow irises. Though derisively called lizards on Grey's homeworld, the Arikhan were not reptiles. More birdlike, with hard noses, holes for ears, and a stringy webbing covering their otherwise bald heads.

Grey sensed the patrol had been engaged in the search for many days. He readied the hunting knife, knowing he could kill the alien if it came close enough. Knew he would have to kill it. But the others would soon notice their comrade's absence, and the patrol craft overhead would track their movements if they began running. Escape would prove difficult.

Nearby, a startled herd of deer began to scamper up the valley. Well, not actually deer, Grey thought. But they looked like deer. Surprised at first, the soldier soon turned around and walked back to the transport.

Grey let out a relieved breath. The departure of the herd animals seemed to put the soldiers at ease. After waiting another moment, Grey retreated into the brush cave.

"They'll be leaving in a few minutes," he said.

"It's the second patrol today," Shalli worried.

"They must be watching the rivers. We'll try going up into the hills, then turn south when we reach the next valley," Grey decided.

"Won't they be watching all the valleys?" Garn asked.

"There are too many valleys to watch. This land isn't like the dry canyons around Karak," Grey said. "The woods are thicker in the south. The rivers get bigger, and there are more of them. Even the Arikhan can't keep searching forever."

"They will not give up easily, my husband. We must be prepared to seek the high mountains," Shalli said.

"Let's hope that's not necessary," Grey answered, gazing at the white-topped peaks to the northeast.

* * * * * *

"They're finally gone," Garn said, returning to their latest burrow.

"I'll find roots for dinner, and firewood," Grey said, giving Shalli a kiss before leaving.

After so much time hiding, he was glad to get out into the pasture. The ten days since their escape had been a mixture of fear and boredom. In a few hours it would be dark. Necessary to travel again.

"Can I help?" Garn asked.

Garn had been a last-minute addition to their escape, and Grey appreciated his presence. Vigorous and exceptionally bright, Shalli's nephew had grown up knowing Grey only as Ben, the strange visitor who had brought prosperity to his people. For a time. And when the prosperous times had ended, Ben had taught them how to fight, even if the struggle proved hopeless.

"Is something wrong, Ben?" Garn asked.

"The aircraft are persistent. Ground searchers continue to block our path. We've been forced away from the trails I wanted."

"Shalli thinks we should go into the mountains," Garn said.

"We can't stay near the lowlands much longer. But we're not prepared for those snowbound canyons," Grey said, pointing toward the tall peaks that divided the Arikhan colonies in the west from the vast unsettled forests to the east. "I have an idea, but Shalli won't like it."

"No," Shalli said a few minutes later when Grey and Garn returned.

"I can surprise a small group," Grey said, priming the explosive pellets in one of the handguns.

"Ambushing a group of masters won't help," Shalli said. "They don't know where we are. We could still be headed for the lake country, or farther south to the salt sea. They might even think we went north into the desert. If we fight them, they'll know where we are. Lady Gamtra warned me to stay hidden. It's the only way we'll escape."

"It's getting cold. Food is harder to find. When our fuel is gone, we'll only have firewood. And not even much of that. A patrol will be carrying supplies."

"We can follow this creek into the mountains. Go over to the far side," Shalli said. "There might not be much snow this late in the season. Do the masters travel east of the mountains?"

"Not often," Grey said.

"Then we must go there. Our daughter can't wait forever," Shalli warned, lying back. Before long she was asleep.

Grey crawled out of their burrow to study the valley below them. Though the Arikhan were gone for now, they would be back. Every instinct he had said to take the offense, but he suspected Shalli was right. He didn't like the idea of crossing the mountains in winter. He also didn't see a choice.

* * * * * *

Sarden Leader Kanatro stood on the balcony surveying his forlorn fiefdom. On the other side of the dreary valley, beyond the forcefield fence, slaves were once again loading ore into the cargo containers for transport beyond the Varish Expanse. Karak had been tense in the weeks following the riots, but the days had finally subsided into the mundane business of mining and transporting.

As the sun set over the steep cliffs to the west, he went back inside. His office offered few comforts. The old headquarters was merely a rambling pinewood building perched on a wooded hillside, barely large enough for his staff and a kitchen. The few luxuries Lord Gamtro had installed had fallen into disrepair.

"Permission to enter, my lord?" Bractro requested, appearing at the office door. Better than two meters in height, lean with a strong frame, Bractro was typical of former Contingent militia now serving as camp guards.

"Enter," Kanatro permitted with an annoyed lash of his long gray tongue.

In former days, the middle-aged bureaucrat had been somewhat pudgy. Unusual for an Arikhan. Duty at Karak was causing him to lose weight. The light blue shade of his skin, particularly his cheeks, marked him of the minor nobility.

"What have you to report?"

"No sign of the escaped prisoners," Bractro said. "The sho'kar will continue searching, but Commander Cordaris demands the shaba'kar be recalled for reassignment."

"No doubt this pleases him," Kanatro angrily remarked.

Bractro said nothing. It was not his place to involve himself in the quarrels of his superiors. Nor, being a lowly commoner, did he want blame for such a failure.

"At least the food-creatures are cooperating," Kanatro sighed with a soft click of his tongue. "The mines are operating. Ore carts are being loaded."

"Lord Gamtro was too lenient with these animals. The slaves became spoiled, the guards complacent. There is no respect without the whip," Bractro asserted.

"And yet Gamtro, once held in disgrace, was promoted from Sarden Leader of this miserable outpost to Minister of Mineral Production. Much honor was given him. And wealth. The Supreme Council restored his titles. Now Gamtro is gone and yield is down 70%. I cannot pay bonuses, nor make reimbursement for this office."

"What has Zenatro said?" Bractro boldly inquired.

"Governor Zenatro says the superior race did not conquer this world to live in poverty. If the slaves do not break the rocks, then my guards will break the rocks instead."

"Acquire more labor. There are other slave camps," Bractro recommended.

"Camps that are controlled by my enemies. And the worst of them is Cordaris. The Contingent Leader rises on my fall, much as Amartro intended."

"Amartro is dead. Killed by the escaped slave. We found his head in a steel box. The outrage must be avenged."

"I've not heard anyone shedding tears over Amartro," Kanatro replied, lashing his tongue.

"You have promised the food-creatures temporary clemency, and they have returned to work. Maybe production will improve?"

"Lady Gamtra watches now. If I press too hard, the Committee of Commerce will renew their investigation. And the food-creature leaders are sly as vvleen. They will give just enough production to meet requirements, but no more. I curse the day Lord Gamtro fell into that pit and shattered his leg. Karak should still be his burden."

"Great rewards are earned through great challenges," Bractro said, quoting an ancient proverb. "How would you have me deal with the food-creatures?"

"You?"

"You have not named Amartro's replacement."

"And what would you expect to accomplish?" Kanatro asked.

"The prosperity promised by Sherra," Bractro concluded.

* * * * * *

"The sho'kar are gone," Garn said, sneaking back into their hiding place between two fallen trees.

Grey was sorting through their supplies again. Shalli lay in her furs trying not to shiver.

"We'll stay near this creek for today," Grey said, tucking the furs tighter.

"How is Shalli?" Garn asked.

"Getting rest. Constant travel is hard for a woman in her condition. You've been a great help, Garn. We couldn't have gotten this far without you."

"Is this freedom?" Garn asked.

"It's a beginning to freedom. Once we reach the snow level, there won't be any more patrols."

"Can we have a fire?"

"Keep it small, and have a blanket nearby to smother it," Grey agreed.

"Be careful, my husband," Shalli said, waking from a light nap.

"All is well. The sho'kar are gone for now," Grey assured her. "Garn makes a fire to heat our soup. Tonight, I'll snare a rabbit for fresh meat. We can reduce our travel time now."

"No, we must keep moving. They'll catch us if winter breaks and we're still on the wrong side of the mountain," Shalli said.

"Don't worry about that," Grey answered.

"I must worry. We'll soon have another child to think of. Our danger is the baby's danger," Shalli insisted.

"I can deal with any patrol that finds us."

"If you kill four of them, eight more will come. If you kill eight, it will be a hundred. Even you cannot kill them all."

"Okay, we'll keep moving until we reach the western slope. Then we'll rest a few days," Grey said.

Garn listened and wondered. Shalli was afraid of the masters. Everyone was afraid of them, except Grey. Garn also thought of the strange Arikhan in the brown robe, and the conversation he'd heard just before they escaped from Karak.

"Here's the soup," Garn said, bringing each of them a cup. "Ben, should I call you Akeem now?"

"Why would you do that?" Grey questioned.

"The priestess who came to our camp. Mordari. She said it's who you are. You are Akeem. The Liberator of our people," Garn said.

"I haven't liberated anyone."

"You liberated me."

Grey had always liked Garn. In some ways, Garn reminded him of himself at that age. Active. Inquisitive. And not shy about challenging assumptions.

"I'm not Akeem," Grey said.

"But you have other names. I've heard father and mother talking about it," Garn said.

"What did Clagg and Myra say?"

"That you were born on a different world, and the name you had would make the masters angry."

"Yes, I've had other names. My given name was Grey. My father's name was Jaime. He was a soldier. My mother's name was Crystal. She was a geologist. For many years, I was called Governor because of my responsibilities. Titles don't change who you are, Garn, they only change who people think you are."

"Never have you spoken of your parents, my husband. Please tell us more," Shalli said, perking up. Garn was interested, too.

"I never knew my parents. They died when I was only a few months old. My father served in a position of high honor. He would've become an important leader had he lived. My grandfather was a general, one of the highest military ranks. He was wise in the ways of fighting, and in finding ways not to fight. My mother came from a different culture than my father, but their attraction was strong."

"What is a geologist?" Garn asked.

"A geologist is a scientist who studies minerals," Grey said.

"Just as you do," Shalli realized. "You are much like your parents. Your father was a warrior, your mother was one with the mines. It's no wonder you share their talents."

Grey had to think about that.

"Were your parents free?" Garn asked.

"Yes, all of the people on my world are free," Grey said, avoiding an argument about the real meaning of freedom.

"We in the camps were slaves for generations. Now we're a free people held in captivity," Shalli said. "I think someday you will inspire even more to find courage. Akeem is not just a legend, or a man. Akeem is our hope."

"Then I'll be Akeem, for you," Grey said, wrapping his arms around her. "But let's not make too much of it. I've already been a legend. I would rather be a husband, and a father."

* * * * * *

On the twenty fifth day, they climbed into the foothills, leaving the river valley behind. Though the troop ships had disappeared, scout craft searched often enough that gathering food was dangerous.

"Shalli said we would cross the mountains," Garn reminded, carrying a heavy backpack.

"I wanted her to be wrong," Grey replied.

"What's on the other side? Are there slave camps? Will the masters be waiting for us?" Garn asked.

"Gamtro would never discuss what lies east of the mountains, but I suspect it's mostly forest. The Arikhan have no cities there."

"Are there any people?"

"Maybe a few. Gamtro called them primitives. We should know more in a few weeks."

After reaching a plateau where they could see much of the surrounding area, Grey noticed curious signs. He set Shalli under a leafy oak tree and stopped to investigate, spending more than an hour digging through weed infested mounds.

"What is it, husband?" Shalli asked when he returned.

"Stone foundations. There was a village here once," Grey said, wiping sweat from his brow. He drank deeply from a water bottle and ate a bit of dried fish.

"A village?" Garn asked, sitting next to him on a log.

"Long ago, your people had a settlement here. It was large, probably two or three hundred people," Grey guessed.

Grey pointed toward the flat area dominating the plateau, then to a series of low rises that stretched toward the forest. He seemed excited, and puzzled. He reached into his pocket and produced a clay shard.

"What's that?" Garn asked.

"Plumbing. This town may have been destroyed during the Arikhan invasion two hundred years ago, but it wasn't a village of primitives. They had carefully laid out dwellings, a road, and ceramic pots. Stalls indicate a trade center. There are large pylons at the top of the hill. Possibly their leader's house, or an administration center. And there's a brick aqueduct that drew water down from the creek. Your ancestors were not barbarians, Garn. They were a thriving and inventive people on the verge of great discoveries."

"All this you can see from a few rocks?" Shalli asked.

"Yes, dearest. On my world, much could be known from such traces," Grey answered.

"There are stories among the people. Old stories. We weren't always easy prey of the masters," Shalli said.

"I don't know how well this village fought back. There aren't any signs of a battle. No bones or arrowheads. Someday, maybe we can come back and give the area more attention," Grey suggested.

* * * * * *

The escapees started out again before dawn, moving steadily toward a pass between two tall mountaintops. The ground grew barren, the air brisk. Animal life disappeared. Then it started snowing.

"There's a space. Between the peaks," Garn said, bundled up as best he could. Accustomed to the mild climate around Karak, he had never known such low temperatures.

"I think it's the pass we've been looking for," Grey confirmed.

"I'm cold," Garn said, flapping his arms.

"We should reach the summit in another day. It will be easier going downhill, and the weather might not be so bad," Grey said hopefully.

But it was not another day, it was two. When they finally neared a gap at the top, the snow was deep enough to stop them. Grey spent an hour searching before finding a cave facing away from the cold wind. Garn started a fire with the scant fuel they could gather.

"It's bad luck, my husband," Shalli said.

"You should wear my suit," Grey responded, beginning to remove the black thermal outfit Lord Gamtro had gifted him many years before. He had called it Denesian, captured from smugglers. Not suitable for an Arikhan.

"No, you must keep it. If you grow weak, we will all perish," Shalli objected.

"We'll share," Grey insisted, pulling off the top and wrapping it around her shoulders. "We can hold up here for a few days. We've got some food. Garn is looking for more wood."

"I think we'll have a baby soon. Maybe very soon," Shalli said.

"We should have been down in the far valleys by now. We might find people there."

"Primitives? We shouldn't go there."

"We have no choice, sweetheart," Grey said, using dehydrated powder to make broth.

Garn returned with scraps of wood, shaking off the ice. Grey sat him down near the fire and rubbed his feet.

"I don't like these mountains," Garn complained.

"I'm not fond of them either," Grey said. "Let's fashion a sled for Shalli. I'll scout a path east so we won't be delayed searching for trails."

"I can scout, too," Garn said.

"Someone needs to stay with Shalli. Take one of the pistols. If Shalli needs my help, fire a shot in the air. The sound will echo off the cliffs."

As the wind grew worse, Grey spent the next day looking for a route down the mountain while Garn foraged for fuel. Neither was greatly successful. Grey was ready to risk a blind movement through a steep canyon despite the falling snow when Shalli went into labor.

"Have you ever brought a baby before?" Garn whispered as they melted snow for water in a small cooking pot.

"No. I wish Black Hands or Myra were here," Grey said.

Garn noticed he looked tired. And nervous.

"Shalli will be all right, won't she?" Garn asked.

"Don't worry. Women have babies in strange places all the time," Grey replied, but not very convincingly.

"Could a man be Black Hands? A giver of life?" Garn asked.

"Men can be doctors or anything else they set their minds to. Just like women can. Many babies were born in the compound. Wish I'd paid more attention."

"But I've seen you heal people."

"I know basic medicine. Gunshots and broken bones. This is different. Fortunately, the people of my world made entertainments that often included childbirth. If the writers weren't being too creative, I may know enough."

Their packs were unloaded. One of the canvas tarps was adjusted to better cover the cave entrance, leaving a space for smoke to escape. Shalli's bed was made of sleeping rolls with Garn's cloak as a pillow. Grey laid out their remaining supplies, looking for ways to make the dried meat last longer.

"I'll need to go hunting soon," Grey whispered.

"If we weren't so high in the mountains, we could search for berries," Garn said.

"The pains grow stronger," Shalli moaned, her breathing coming more quickly. "Do not look so frightened, my husband. I've had a baby before, remember?"

"I remember," Grey said, holding her hand.

"I think it's time," Shalli announced.

"Time to be extra brave, Garn," Grey said, speaking for himself as well.

Within hours it was clear the baby would wait no more. Grey assisted with the delivery while Garn held Shalli's head. As the labor grew more difficult, Grey whispered encouragement to pace her breathing and pushing. Garn struggled to keep Shalli dry, the sweat turning cold on her skin. Forced to ration their firewood, Garn was having a hard time keeping her warm. It became even harder when the hours of labor grew longer.

Finally, just before sunset, Shalli gave birth to a baby girl, her cries echoing off the rock walls. Though exhausted, Shalli managed a smile as Grey laid the baby against her breast.

"She's strong. Loud, too. She'll keep us awake," Shalli whispered.

"What will we call her?" Grey asked.

"Her name is Hope, taking as truth the words Mordari spoke to me the night we escaped Karak. For her godmother, I name the Lady Gamtra," Shalli said.

"Lady Gamtra? No master has ever been named godmother," Garn stammered.

Grey wasn't sure of the significance, but he knew the naming held a religious meaning for her people. As it did for the Arikhan. He let Garn make Shalli more comfortable while he cleaned up the bedding. Every spare piece of clothing that could be used as rags had been. He gathered it all up and went outside, scrubbing the blood off with ice before letting it harden. Then he made another search for firewood, returning with a bundle of dead branches.

The small amount of medicines helped, a painkiller letting Shalli sleep. Grey took his daughter in his arms and sat next to the fire. Her eyes were blue, but not the blazing blue of Shalli's eyes. More subtle. Almost a soft gray, like his. Despite the hardships of the last month, the baby didn't appear underweight, and her breathing was strong. Grey stroked the small squirming body, finished cleaning the tiny arms and legs, and wrapped her in his fur hood, holding her close to his chest. He knew conditions were getting worse. There was much to be afraid of. And he hadn't forgotten the pain of little Jaime dying when he was just a year old.

For the moment, none of that mattered. He had not known love as a child. Always feared he would never know it, and sometimes hurt those who expected him to love them. He had hurt Kris, his wife on another world, unable to return the unconditional love she was so anxious to give. Though, toward the end, he'd been able to open his heart to her. He hoped Kris realized that. He had always worried that she hadn't.

Love wasn't going to be a problem with Hope. Grey felt it instantly. Was almost stunned by it. As he held his daughter in his arms, he sensed a new perspective. And a responsibility that went beyond the obligations of parenthood.

Shalli did not fare well. She woke up weak, barely able to eat, and by the next day, a fever set in. Grey sent Garn to find more wood while he mixed a bowl of broth, using snow to keep her temperature down. Black Hands had given them ground root that fought infections, but it wasn't helping.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Shalli questioned.

"You need better food, and more heat. This cave is no place to be sick."

"Outside is even worse."

"It finally stopped snowing. I'll start work on the sled again. Once we get down the mountain, everything will be better," Grey encouraged.

"I may not be going down the mountain. Please don't be angry. I hurt, and the drugs don't help. I think maybe it's my time."

"Be brave. We've been through worse."

Garn came back dragging more frozen bedding. Grey showed him how to scrape off the blood with the knife. The small amount of wood Garn had found wouldn't last long.

"We should leave tomorrow," Grey whispered to Garn. "Let's get our supplies ready. Take only what we need."

"Shalli still looks sick," Garn said, noticing her pallid complexion.

"She won't get better here," Grey replied.

Shalli woke again when night fell. She fed Hope, though the sweat of the fever was a worry. Grey kept close watch, trying everything he knew to make the fever break, but Shalli only worsened. She seemed to understand first.

"Garn, watch Hope for us," Shalli said. "My husband, gather my furs and take me outside. I long to see the moons and stars."

"You should stay warm," Grey protested.

"No, I wish to see the sky one last time," Shalli insisted.

Grey obeyed her instructions, struggling to hold his emotions in check. After bundling Shalli in her bear cloak, he carried her to an outcrop above the floor of the pass. The wind had died down, the night clear. Both moons blazed in the sky joined by a thousand stars.

"Where is your star tonight?" Shalli asked, cradled in his arms.

"It's hard to see. There, above the smaller moon. The pale light below the two bright stars."

"I see it. The place that was your home. One day, maybe it will be your home again. You'll take Hope there and teach her about your people."

"They aren't really my people. I wasn't raised by them. I learned about them from books."

"Then our daughter's life will be richer, won't it?"

"Yes, she will have a good life."

"I was very excited when Mordari named you Akeem. To know you would free our people. I felt so much pride. But now I know more. Now I think my expectations are unfair. My husband, if you want a quiet life, away from trouble, then follow your heart. Keep our daughter safe. Protect Garn. Show them the ways of freedom, which my people have been denied for so long. I want you to find peace."

"For a short time, I thought I had," Grey said with tears in his eyes.

"You feel bad because you couldn't save our people. Nothing I say will change your mind. It's your way. But know this, my heart. I can't imagine ever having been happy without you. You enriched my life. You made everything wonderful. I love you so much."

Grey wanted to speak but the words were too difficult. He held Shalli closer, listening to her labored breathing.

"I grow tired, husband. Make me a promise," Shalli asked.

"Anything, beloved," Grey answered, stroking her hair.

"Have courage. Decide for yourself if you wish to be Akeem. Don't be afraid, for Sherra looks after you. And so will I."

"It will be as you say," Grey agreed, taking a last look at the night sky before carrying her back into the cave.

Shalli died that morning just as the sun broke over the eastern mountains.

* * * * * *

Grey felt like sitting in a corner and weeping his heart out, but there was no time. The weather had broken and he had two children to care for. He kissed Shalli one last time before wrapping her body in her cloak and placing it in a niche. After crawling from the cave, Grey used Mordari's energy blaster to make a rockslide. Three steady laser pulses sealed her tomb.

"We must say the words," Garn insisted, holding Hope as tears ran down his cheeks.

"You say them. I'm angry with the gods right now," Grey said.

"I can't say them well," Garn protested

Grey realized he wasn't being fair to Garn. And maybe to Shalli. And he owed it to Hope. Someday, she would want to know about her mother's funeral.

"Get ready to leave. We'll say the words before we go," Grey conceded.

Grey found the last of some half-burnt branches, bundled them into a torch, and placed it before the tomb. Then he set out the jade necklace that he was saving for Hope, the one Tak had given Shalli on their wedding day. He knelt, took Hope in his lap, and waited for Garn to kneel beside him. The mountain pass was filled with light snow, the morning crisp. Tall granite walls towered above them on each side, a swirling mist hiding the peaks. It reminded Grey of a cathedral.

"Sherra, goddess of this world and many others, we ask that you hear our words. This is one called Ben, husband of Shalli. Here is Garn, nephew of Shalli. Here is Hope, the daughter of your blessing. Shalli has left us, and now her spirit belongs to you. Shalli is kind, and generous, and brave. She is worthy to dwell in your realm. I don't know why you've taken her, or why you brought us to this place. I didn't always understand the god who rules my homeworld. Perhaps there is meaning in this. But until the day we understand, we will do our best, because that's what Shalli would want."

"Blessed be the Will of Sherra," Garn whispered, seeing tears in Grey's eyes. He'd always thought of his uncle as someone more than human. Now, for the first time, Garn realized how wrong he'd been. It was a sobering lesson.

"I'll have the first turn carrying my cousin," Garn said, taking Hope as they prepared to leave.

They walked into a gray morning, the sun struggling through growing clouds. The trail east was rugged, leading around the edge of the mountain before descending into deep canyons. The first day was hard but went well. The second day was harder. The weather stirred up again, wind and snow blotting out the landscape. By the third day, their progress stalled.

"Maybe we should stop until the wind goes away. We have a fire," Garn said in their burrow made of snow.

"We can't stop now. We're out of broth. I'm not sure what we can feed Hope. If she gets weak, she won't survive this cold."

"Are we going to make it?" Garn asked.

"We won't give up. There's a story among my people about an explorer named Robert Scott. He walked to the South Pole. Many hundreds of kilometers. On the way back, he ran into a blizzard and stopped. He and his comrades died in their tent only a few hours away from supplies. The valleys may be an hour away, or a hundred hours, but we're not going to stop."

"Did you know Robert Scott?" Garn asked.

"No, he died a long time ago. I read about him."

"Will you teach me to read? And write, too? Like you do?"

"Your written language doesn't have many words. It's mostly symbols."

"Not those words. I want your language. I want to speak it, and read it, and write it. Someday I want to read about Robert Scott and your people. And if I'm smart enough, maybe I can become a healer. Can I learn to be a healer in your language?"

"You can become a good healer, if that's what you want," Grey said.

"Let's begin tonight," Garn decided. He picked up a stick and scratched a line in the dirt floor. "How do I start?"

Grey did hold up an extra day in their snow cave, taking time to snare a bird. Then they pushed on, traveling steadily down the mountain. The weather improved for a while, but then started getting worse. Grey thought he saw a green valley opening before them.

"I've had enough of this snow, how about you?" Grey asked.

Garn was played out. They were hungry. Hope was hungry. Grey began to understand how Robert Scott must have felt.

"I can't walk much farther. My feet are cold," Garn complained.

"Mine, too," Grey said.

Grey dropped his pack in the snow and took off his coat. Hope was wrapped in Shalli's shirt, pressed to his chest. The smell wasn't good, so he cleaned her up and scrubbed out the mess. Garn sorted through his pack, keeping only the bare necessities.

"Ready?" Grey asked.

Garn climbed on Grey's back and pulled the cloak up over both of them. Grey tucked Hope into his chest pouch, tied the cloak closed, and braced himself in the makeshift snowshoes made of twisted tree branches. Then he started walking down the slope, hoping it wasn't just another blind canyon.

Winds kicked up in the lower hills as light snow blew around them. Grey pushed on, determined to go as far as possible. A shallow creek appeared filled with driftwood. Were they in a forest?

It grew dark. Grey sensed the trees around him, but only one moon was up and it wasn't full. The ground felt different. Less snow. Maybe it wasn't even snow at all. Twigs crunched under his feet. He kicked off the snowshoes. The air was still cold. Hope was asleep, and so was Garn. Grey was almost ready to stop when he saw a light up ahead.

It was a campfire.

Tall trees loomed like grim sentries. Grey supposed he should approach with caution. Maybe even have Mordari's blaster ready, but he didn't have the energy. Every muscle in his body ached.

As he got closer, he looked for tents or signs of inhabitation. The clearing in the woods looked large enough for a camp but he couldn't see anyone. Just as he was almost out of the trees, there was movement. Someone in a heavy fur coat appeared before him. Grey raised his hand and was about to shout a greeting when everything went black.

* * * * * *

Chapter Two

FOREST PEOPLE

"He wakes," a male voice said in strongly accented Akronian.

Grey opened his eyes to a late morning sun. He appeared to be in a tent of sorts, the sides made of green netting. His heavy coat, along with Hope and Garn, were missing. He discovered himself lying on a bed of leaves bound hand and foot. His skull hurt as if someone had hit him. A blanket had been wrapped around his cold feet, the boots removed.

"Are we going to kill him?" a different voice asked. A female. Her accent was also strong, the words pronounced harder.

Grey noticed a small fire keeping the tent warm. Thick furs were shaped into sleeping bags. Straw baskets were available for gathering food.

"We should. We should have done it last night," the male voice said.

"He carries a baby. And a child," the young woman pointed out.

"He wears strange clothes. And carries weapons of the hornfeet. He must be a spy," her companion replied.

"I'm no spy," Grey grunted, twisting into a sitting position. He was thirsty and his stomach growled. "Where's Garn and my daughter?"

The couple paused in surprise, dwelling on the angry foreign accent.

"The children are in the retreat. They were weak and starving. Leena shares her milk with the baby," the woman said.

"Thank you," Grey said with relief.

The young man was medium height, well-built, with long sandy blond hair and cool hazel eyes. The young woman had soft green eyes, her light brown hair flowing across her sturdy shoulders. They were in their late teens or early twenties. Both wore green woolen outfits trimmed with brown leather. Their black headbands were embroidered with yellow arrows. Each carried hunting knives sheathed on wide belts. The belts had steel buckles, atypical of a primitive society. The young man had an archer's bow in his hand and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. They were hunters.

"Who are you?" Grey asked.

"That's our question to ask. If spies have names," the young man said.

"I am Olda, daughter of Taynaar. This is Conapt, son of Bakaar," Olda said, an odd yet pleasant lilt to her voice. Her expression showed curiosity. Conapt's gaze was filled with suspicion.

"I am called Ben. We escaped from a slave camp far to the west. I'm not a spy."

"Where is the baby's mother?" Olda asked.

"Dead on the mountain," Grey answered.

"We're sorry," Olda bemoaned. Grey didn't think Conapt appeared sorry, maybe because he didn't believe the story.

"Helva is scouting for your allies," Conapt said.

"Do the condemned get a last meal around here?" Grey asked.

Olda departed the temporary shelter and returned a few minutes later with biscuits and freshly cooked strips of deer meat. Grey sat cross-legged as Olda knelt on a fur to feed him, his hands remaining bound behind his back. A cup of cold river water was eagerly accepted. Grey ate slowly as Olda offered one mouthful at a time. He was careful not to chew too quickly, despite the hunger, wanting to appear calm. The food was good, the water better.

Grey studied his captors more closely, noticing Conapt carried metal-tipped arrows. Their knives were finely crafted polished steel. Olda was a teenager, probably about eighteen, with a slender figure and a cautious smile. Conapt was just past twenty, muscular, with a faint scar on his chin. He clutched his fists like a brawler. Both youngsters seemed bright-eyed and vigorous, benefiting from a healthy diet.

"Thank you," Grey said when he finished.

"I can get you more," Olda offered.

"The meal was adequate. If your leader decides I'm a spy, what plans have you for Hope and Garn?" Grey inquired.

"I don't know," Olda answered. "No spies have ever brought children before. Especially a newborn. Raynaar and Ussan will need to decide."

"Are they nearby?" Grey questioned.

"No, they are many days away," Olda said.

"We're here to hunt white fur. No one expected travelers to come out of the mountains after such a storm. The passes are blocked," Conapt said.

"The passes were difficult," Grey agreed.

Before long, the forest people were gathering in a small clearing surrounded by tall trees. Conapt cut the rope around Grey's feet and Olda put his boots back on. Grey wiggled his toes, glad to find them all intact.

When they emerged from the tent, Grey found six men and three women, all dressed in the same forest green outfits. They reminded Grey of Robin Hood's merry men, but this was no Sherwood Forest.

Five of the men carried long bows. The sixth, by far the largest of the group, had a hand ax hanging from his wide leather belt. One young woman held Hope protectively against her breast. Like Olda, she had long brown hair and deep green eyes. Not quite as slender as the others, Grey assumed she was Leena. Hope was quiet, apparently unharmed. Behind the women, Garn was being kept in the background by one of the hunters. Grey assumed it was an effort to prevent them from communicating.

"We know you're a spy. Why appear here instead of the Great River? Why endanger these children?" the big man asked, the one Grey assumed was Helva. The voice was loud and bold. Confident. He reminded Grey of Clagg, Garn's father and the leader of Ferret Camp.

Like Clagg, Helva was barrel-chested, his face half-buried with a bushy beard. His dirty blond hair was long and worn loose over his broad shoulders. He stood with his feet somewhat apart, the crossed arms marking him as the group's chieftain. The accent was thick enough that Grey had trouble making out all the words, but he got the general idea.

"I was accused of being a spy when I first came to this godforsaken planet, and I didn't care for it then," Grey said. "You've managed to avoid capture by the Arikhan, so you can't be completely stupid. What do you want?"

"We'll ask the questions. The boy says you crossed Bad Luck Pass in the blizzard. We want to know if your lies are better than his lies," Helva said.

Someone pushed Garn forward. He was scared. Even more scared than the night they had escaped from Karak. Grey saw a bruise over the youngster's left eye.

"Who struck my nephew?" Grey asked, the tone cold as death.

"What if I did?" Helva replied.

"Then pray to your gods for mercy," Grey snarled.

Even from several yards away, Garn could see Grey's brow furrowing, his teeth clench. The lean body went taut, knees bent and chin tucked in. Everyone at Karak had learned what this meant, some to their sorrow. The forest dwellers laughed, but not for long.

Helva hardly even saw Grey coming, the sudden acceleration totally unexpected. Grey made three quick strides and rammed the big man with his shoulder, thrust kicked him in the groin, and followed with a spinning round-house kick to the face. Helva hit the ground hard, landing on his side with a grunt. Grey squatted backward, pulled Helva's knife from his belt, and cut the leather binding his wrists.

The moment Grey's hands were free, he turned on Conapt just as the hunter tried to grab him from behind. Grey flipped Conapt over and slammed him down, robbing the hunter of his breath. Another young man leapt forward but Grey ducked aside, punched him in the gut, and followed with a vicious right cross to the jaw. A third hunter hesitated, not sure what to do. Grey grabbed his vest and took away his bow and quiver of arrows.

The hunters retreated, two of them crawling in pain, unprepared to fight someone with such skill. Grey turned back on Conapt and Helva. He whacked Conapt over the head with the bow, threw him against a tree, and then pounced on Helva's chest. Before Helva could push Grey off, he found his own knife pressed against his windpipe.

"Now I'll show you what I think of men who hit children," Grey said.

"No! Don't! Helva hit me by mistake!" Garn shouted, rushing past the frightened hunters to Grey's side. Helva was holding his breath, terrified of the blade against his throat but trying not to show it.

"When they jumped us in the woods, they didn't know I was under your coat. Helva hit me by accident," Garn quickly explained. "Helva apologized. He brought me food and water. Please don't kill him."

"I wasn't going to kill him, Garn. Just scalp him a little," Grey said, slowly backing off. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Akeem. Hope and I are well treated," Garn assured him.

"Akeem?" Helva said, sitting up the moment Grey stepped away.

"It cannot be Akeem," a hunter whispered.

The women stared in amazement. In the shadowed clearing underneath the thick growth of trees, the stranger stood erect with the knife gripped tightly in his right hand. His shaggy brown hair was gray at the temples. His body looked strong and well-proportioned. The eyes were those of a predator. The forest men stayed back.

"Akeem is a myth. A legend to entertain children," Conapt said, the only hunter to stand his ground.

"I don't see you trying to take the knife away from him," Olda said.

"Anyone can see he's a better fighter than I am," Conapt replied.

"You observe well," Grey confirmed, picking up the long bow and fitting an arrow without actually pointing it at anybody. "Bring my travel gear and weapons."

Two of the women disappeared, returning moments later with their coats, backpacks and arms.

"Throw your weapons aside," Grey ordered.

The hunters did as instructed, though Conapt obeyed with the greatest reluctance. If not for the women, Grey thought Conapt might have fought instead. Grey went to Leena and reclaimed Hope, gingerly placing her in the chest pouch over his heart.

"If I may ever be of service, Leena, you have but to ask," Grey said, the gratefulness in his gaze reassuring. "No request is too great."

The teenager who had cared for Hope was shorter than Olda with a fuller figure due to recent childbirth. Her smile was warming.

"Who are you, really?" Leena asked, no longer afraid.

"My name is Ben. Stories beyond that are exaggerations. Myths to entertain children," Grey answered, casting a disapproving glance at Garn.

Grey slowly backed away holding the bow in one hand, shouldering a backpack in the other. Garn picked up the two holsters carrying the alien pistols and the bag holding Mordari's energy blaster. Grey paused near Helva, who was still sitting on the ground.

"How do you fare, Helva?" Grey asked.

"You hit hard for a small man," Helva said, rubbing his groin.

"You fall hard, even for a big man," Grey said, seeing Helva almost smile. "I'm no spy. I'm not looking for trouble. After we leave, go back to your hunting. Thank you for helping Garn and my daughter. Maybe someday, I'll be able to show you my appreciation."

"More appreciation than kicking my man spots and holding a knife to my throat?" Helva asked.

When Grey laughed, the easy smile seemed to transform the tense situation. The hunters relaxed. Garn grinned so big none could suspect him of being a spy's tool.

Grey holstered one of the pistols and gave the second pistol to Garn.

"Here's your bow," Grey said, throwing the weapon back to its owner. He also returned Helva's knife.

"We're going east on this trail until we find water and good hunting," Grey said. "If anyone tries to sneak up on us, that person might get hurt. I don't want to hurt anyone, so be careful. Let's go, Garn."

Grey watched until he was sure no one would try anything foolish, then followed Garn into the woods. The trail was narrow, almost dark, but easy to keep. They hadn't gone more than a hundred yards when they heard footsteps. Loud and rapid, without any effort at stealth.

"Garn! Ben! Wait! Let me come with you," Leena shouted. She had a pack on her shoulders and carried a sleeping fur under her arm.

"You should be with your mate, not on the trail with strangers," Grey said.

"Farrado was killed last spring in a hornfeet raid," Leena said, dropping her head. "I'm free to travel where I please. Hope must have feedings, and I have plenty of milk. My baby waits for me with my sister at Saramont. We can be there in a first quarter moon."

"We don't want any trouble," Grey said, hoping to avoid a large settlement.

"Yes, we do," Garn said. "Please come with us, Leena. You can tell us about the forest. And Saramont. I'd like to learn about the ways of your people."

Leena smiled. She was hardly more than seventeen but walked with confidence. If she was afraid of Grey, or being alone with strangers, it didn't show. Grey guessed she and Garn had already formed a bond.

"We welcome your company," Grey conceded, unable to resist her request.

They hadn't even moved when there were more footsteps. Conapt and Olda were running toward them. Grey put a hand on his pistol but didn't draw it.

"Leena is sister to my mate. I will protect her," Conapt explained, out of breath.

"Conapt makes false excuses," Olda said, equally winded. "We want to share the trail with you. The others are coming."

Grey looked down the path to see the hunting party had broken camp, Helva in the lead. Grey frowned. Garn tugged at his arm.

"I don't think they're bad people," Garn whispered. "Only afraid of strangers suddenly appearing out of the mountains. Mother said many were afraid when you first arrived at Ferret Camp."

"It's true. Many were afraid," Grey remembered.

"I think we should learn more of these lands, and Hope needs a woman," Garn insisted. "If we're friendly, maybe they'll be friendly, too."

"Let's hope so," Grey said.

Leena carried Hope while Grey walked between Helva and Conapt. Both men seemed more curious than angry about the fight.

"You're a warrior, but that doesn't mean you are more than that," Helva said.

"I've not claimed to be more. Nor do I consider myself a warrior. I'm an engineer. I like farming," Grey responded. He noticed neither questioned the term engineer, apparently aware of the profession, nor was farming an abstract concept.

"The boy called you Akeem. He's very smart for one so young," Helva hinted.

"For a stranger to walk out of the mountains and claim to be the Liberator would be a brazen act. And probably foolish. These are traits I've tried to outgrow," Grey explained.

A young man with much foolishness ahead, Conapt didn't understand. Helva gave a hearty laugh. Having reached middle-age, he understood exactly what Grey meant.

"What do you plan, now that you are free of the hornfeet?" Conapt asked.

"Many I care about are still in Karak. I hope to go back and free them," Grey replied.

"We've heard these slave camps are strongly guarded," Helva said.

"They are. Maybe I'll only be able to free a few at first. In time, perhaps more, though I'm not sure how."

"The hornfeet raid our lands every spring. If you free a large group, where would they hide?" Conapt asked.

"One problem at a time," Grey answered with a frown.

After walking for an hour, the group moved off the trail, then back on. Sometimes they would hunt, at other times the detour was just to make their trek less predictable. After a successful foray in which Conapt shot a small antelope, they stopped to clean the hide and cure the meat. Grey asked permission to borrow a bow and disappeared into the forest, moving parallel to the trail. At a clearing several kilometers farther down, the group found him with the body of a young buck, shot through the heart.

"It's a good kill. We didn't even hear your movement. Are all slaves so skilled?" Helva asked.

"Akeem is no slave. He's not even from our world," Garn said.

"Garn, don't you think it would be better for people to call me Ben?" Grey cautioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes, Ben," Garn said, his cheeks blushing.

"Garn and I have little need for so much meat. Would you share it with us?" Grey asked.

"Let's make camp at the creek," Helva suggested, pleased by the offer. And intrigued by the boy's allusion to Grey's background. He had wondered about the unusual accent, which was softer than Garn's.

While Grey and Helva carried the deer on a tent pole, the others went ahead to set up camp. Green netting made of a sinewy fiber formed the tents with gathered leaves for camouflage. A sentry was placed to watch for Arikhan scout craft while trips out into the meadow were kept to a minimum. Even butchering the meat and curing the hides were done under the cover of trees. Grey realized he hadn't thought such precautions necessary so far from the Arikhan colonies, and was thankful to have taken Garn's advice.

"You should visit Saramont," Helva recommended. "Meet with Raynaar and Ussan. The tribes of the Mynaar Valley will not bother you if Raynaar extends his protection."

"Will I have to hold a knife to his throat to win this protection?" Grey asked.

"Testing is not uncommon, but you wouldn't fight Raynaar. He's too old," Conapt said.

"Raynaar is not so old. He's not much older than me," Helva complained.

"Yes, I know," Conapt smiled.

"This is big country. Certainly there are places to settle without fighting?" Grey asked.

"There are many good valleys, but it would still be best to speak with Raynaar," Helva urged. "On the path, we can warn you of tricks the hornfeet use and where to find the best game. Perhaps you can tell us of the slave camps. We hear little of the unfortunate ones."

"Have you fought the hornfeet?" Olda asked.

"Some," Grey admitted.

"Ben's killed lots of hornfeet," Garn eagerly said. "He avenged Tak by killing a claw of Amartro's guards. He would've killed Amartro, too, but the group leader--"

"Garn!" Grey almost shouted, trying to conceal his dismay. "Garn, we are guests here. We're fortunate to have found pleasant company on the trail, and thankful to have Leena caring for Hope. It's inappropriate to be so boastful."

Garn shrunk back, looking at Grey before noticing the curious stares of those listening. He didn't understand, but he obeyed.

"Your nephew is proud of his uncle. Don't be so hard on him," Olda said, putting an arm around Garn's shoulders.

"We've struggled against the Arikhan. So have you. I've not heard any of you bragging about your kills," Grey replied.

"There is little to brag of. We mostly hide," Conapt confessed.

"Their fire weapons burn hot, and they strike from the sky. Fighting them is never easy," Helva contended.

"You survive and thrive. There's no shame in hiding from their technology," Grey conceded. "When I realized the slaves in the camps had no way of fighting back, I tried to find peaceful ways to live with their masters. In the end, everything failed, and people I loved died. I haven't killed hornfeet because I wanted to. I've killed them because I had to."

"But Garn speaks truth? You've killed many?" Leena asked.

"I've done what was necessary," Grey said, ending the discussion.

As nightfall set in, the camp banked their fires and spread out. Grey liked the precautions, which reminded him of his survival training at West Point. He was especially grateful for Leena, who devoted herself to Hope. The air was still cold but no longer freezing, so Grey used his bear coat to make a bed for Garn instead of wearing it himself. Baron Gamtro's thermal suit offered sufficient protection.

Once Garn and Hope were asleep, Grey slipped out of camp, crossed the creek, and sat in the middle of an open meadow. The stars spread out from horizon to horizon, the night sky crystal clear. One moon was up, the smaller of the two. With the immediate danger over and the children well fed, he paused to think of Shalli. And her last words. She had said to follow his heart. He thought about his years in Karak, wondering if he'd been wrong to cooperate. Wrong not to have plotted a rebellion. He wondered if Shalli died because he had tried too hard to find peaceful solutions.

Peaceful solutions no longer worried him. Whether it was Sherra, or a spirit beyond his knowledge, was something he didn't know. The path of his failures had led him to war, but how such a war could be fought troubled him. The Arikhan garrison on Akrona may only number a few thousand, but their empire could supply countless reinforcements. He considered for a moment the experience of Robert E. Lee, the Virginian who had defied the Northern government during their Civil War. Despite many victories, Lee had lost the conflict due to his enemy's superior resources.

The second moon began to rise in the east. Shalli's moon. He missed her, and in the lonely isolation of the meadow, finally allowed himself to feel it.

Thirty yards away, two hunters huddled in the creek bed watching the mysterious stranger sitting beneath the stars. A gentle wind rustled the late winter grass.

"Is he trying to send a message to the hornfeet?" Helva whispered.

"No," Conapt said, crawling down out of sight.

"What's he doing?"

"He's crying. We shouldn't be here," Conapt said. They backed away, crossed the creek, and quietly returned to their camp.

"Do you still think he's a spy?" Helva asked.

"He's not a spy. He lost his wife, just as Olda says."

"It's a grief we hear too many times. The boy speaks highly of the stranger's skill. He defeated us easily, but Raynaar will make his own opinion."

"Is it wise to take them to Saramont?" Conapt asked.

"Without Raynaar's protection, they will be hunted. I would not want to hunt Ben. I have a feeling he's dangerous."

"Could he be the Liberator?" Conapt questioned.

"There have been liberators before. They called upon the people to fight the hornfeet and drive them from our world, but their followers only found death. It's always the same. There is no Akeem. There never will be. The hornfeet themselves may have created the legend to draw us out of the forest."

"I don't remember the last uprising. None of the younger men do. But if we could stop the raids, it would be worth it."

"If the stranger has fought hornfeet successfully, as the boy claims, maybe he can give us advice. But we must never again follow a false leader. We are too few, the price too high."

* * * * * *

In the next episode, the strangers arrive in Saramont, but not without trouble first.