Rebels of Akrona

Part Two

by G. Lawrence

Life among the forest people

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.

Recap; During their trek over Bad Luck Pass, Shalli died while giving birth to her daughter, Hope. With his nephew Garn and a baby to care for, Grey is now in the eastern forests with little idea of what to expect.

* * * * * *

Chapter Two (continued)

THE FOREST PEOPLE

The travelers started out again the next morning, splitting into groups of two or three when crossing open areas, always watching the sky for danger and the forest for game. Grey put Mordari's energy blaster in his right shoulder holster ready for a fast draw. One of the pistols was hidden in the back of his belt under a loose shirt. Any Arikhan patrol expecting to attack a primitively armed group of food-creatures would find a rude surprise.

At midday, they stopped for a meal near a large creek. The women quickly shed their deerskins and rushed into the water, laughing as they splashed in their natural state under a gushing waterfall. They were sleek, attractive, and without modesty. Grey stared in surprise.

"The women in the slave camps do not bathe?" Conapt questioned as several of the hunters went to join them.

"In public, men and women rarely bathe together except by necessity," Grey answered.

"Are you embarrassed? Should I call them back?" Conapt asked.

"No, do not call them back," Grey said with a soft grin. "I believe in respecting local customs."

And then to the astonishment of Conapt and Helva, Grey stripped down to nothing but his slave collar and walked into the creek, conversing with the young people. All could see that, for a former slave in his late thirties, he was trim and strong.

"Did you see, Helva? He is covered in scars," Conapt whispered. "Think of the enemies he must have faced."

"When Akeem ..., I mean, when Ben first came to the slave camp, he had nothing," Garn remembered being told. "Not even a breechcloth. Our camp was poor. There was little clothing. There was a group. The wolves. They preyed on the weaker camps. Marn stole and raped. Ben allowed them to strip him. To mock him. To beat him. All the while, he was watching them for weaknesses. And then when Ben was ready, he killed them all."

"All? How many?" Helva questioned.

"Eight. I have heard the stories many times," Garn said. "The small red line on his back is where Lace stabbed him. He killed her with a tent pole."

Conapt and Helva looked at Grey again. He seemed relaxed as Leena handed him soaproot, stepping under the waterfall. They exchanged some sort of pleasantry. Leena gave him a soft smile. Nothing in his demeanor warned of such a dangerous adversary.

"Will Ben be our friend?" Helva asked with concern.

"My mother says Ben will be friends with anyone who has a good heart," Garn replied.

After the impromptu bathing, the camp settled down to make lunch. A meaty broth was just being served when there was trouble.

"Oh, this isn't good," Olda moaned when she saw another hunting party emerge from the woods on the far side of the meadow. Grey was sitting with Hope in his lap under thick oaks when he heard the commotion. He stood up just as Conapt arrived. Helva and Leena went out to meet the new arrivals.

"Careful, Ben. It's Lopota of the Setua. They claim these trails for their own clans, though by right they belong to all. He'll give us trouble with our party being so small," Conapt warned.

Grey handed Hope to Garn and walked into the meadow where Helva and Leena were arguing with a tall, broad-shouldered chieftain. The leader wore a floppy straw hat pulled down over his shaggy black hair, leaving his face in shadow. His outfit was dark green, decorated with wide strips of black and brown leather. For some reason, he reminded Grey of a 17th century pirate.

"You are unfair," Helva said.

"Not so much," Lopota replied, the voice deep. The chieftain's lips were curled in a snarl. Grey guessed him to be about Helva's age, probably mid-forties. Behind Lopota, a band of ten forest clad hunters lingered in the trees. All were men, most were young.

Olda and Conapt followed Grey into the meadow, hanging a few yards back. Grey wasn't sure if they expected to help or just wanted to see what would happen. No weapons were drawn, so Grey made sure not to reach for his.

"What seems to be the problem?" Grey asked.

"Lopota demands half our hunt and the use of our women for the night," Helva said, his forehead wrinkled in frustration.

"Such is not Saramont's tradition," Leena said, looking upset at the suggestion. Olda stepped back. Neither seemed anxious for such attention.

"You travel my lands now," Lopota replied.

Grey studied the large chieftain's stance, sensing the man's confidence. He was nearly a head taller with fists like large rocks. Narrow green eyes stared from a ruddy face. The man's breath was fresh with alcohol, and the lack of a bow indicated he felt no need to hunt, possibly finding the chase too tiresome. Grey looked toward the hunters at the edge of the forest. The young men carried bows, Lopota had only a knife. None had modern weapons.

"He's not going to get either, so let's finish lunch. I'm hungry," Grey said, trying to imitate the accent of the forest people.

"You talk with much arrogance, tree rat," Lopota said, his voice booming.

"Tree rat? That's your best insult? Have you nothing more clever?" Grey asked.

"You jest poorly. Do you know who I am?" Lopota responded.

"Yes, you're a bloated bully, and though I've only known you for a moment, I'm already growing bored."

"You speak boldly," Lopota warned.

"Be careful or you're going to find trouble," Grey replied.

"I accept no threats from such a mouse," Lopota said, stripping off his green hunting jacket. "My demands increase, Helva. After I squash this rodent, all of your hunt will be mine, and your women will carry our kills back to Owlmont."

"Take the meat and hides if you must, but we won't go with you," Leena said.

"No one asked you, woman," Lopota answered, striking her with the back of his hand. The blow may have been harder than Lopota intended, initially just a threat. Grey didn't care.

"Everybody get back," Grey growled, stripping off his coat.

Helva and Conapt tried to interfere, but Grey shoved them away. Garn crept forward so he could whisper to Helva. Helva took Conapt by the arm and drew him back, all of them retreating twenty yards to their side of the meadow.

Alone with Grey in the field, Lopota drew his hunting knife, a sharp steel blade with a long tip. Grey set himself in a fighting stance, calming his anger to arrange his thoughts as Master Shao had taught him so many years before. Lopota was too strong to take down with a few quick blows, and too big to charge. And Grey wasn't going to shoot him. Not if he wanted respect from these people.

"You carry a weapon of the hornfeet. Why not use it?" Lopota asked.

Grey drew the energy blaster from his holster, detached the power pack, and threw it in the grass. And though there was still an Arikhan hunting knife tucked in his belt, he decided not to use it. Lopota's longer reach made a knife fight unwise. He did put on a pair of leather gloves to protect his hands.

"Are your archers going to save you?" Grey asked, pointing to the forest where the green-clad men lurked. The hunters had moved to the edge of the trees, arrows nocked in their bows. Lopota waved at them to put the bows away.

"You should be afraid," Lopota said, showing he knew how to wield the knife.

"Only fools lack fear, but it won't stop me from teaching you a badly needed lesson. It's wrong to threaten your neighbors, and it was a mistake to hit Leena."

"It's you who has made the mistake," Lopota said, circling for an opening.

"I sense you're a strong leader, but not a wise one. Maybe today that will change."

Lopota was not a stupid fighter, declining to launch a direct attack. Grey noticed he held the knife out wide, the free hand dangling at his side just behind the thigh. Grey remembered this tactic from his training days with Captain Wingfoot. Lopota expected a straight kick to the genitals, an obvious move by a smaller opponent. Lopota would grab his leg with the free hand, then swipe at him with the knife. It was a good tactic.

Grey bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, fists clenched, and stepped forward as if to take the bait. Lopota leaned down and grabbed for the leg, only to be smacked in the face by a thrust kick instead. As blood flowed from a broken nose, Lopota howled and staggered back. Grey took advantage to duck underneath the knife and deliver a side kick to Lopota's knee.

Lopota wobbled and swung with his free hand, striking Grey on the side of the head with his fist. It hurt but not enough. Within seconds Grey was circling Lopota, occasionally hitting him with stinging left jabs, then quickly ducking away. Lopota counterattacked, swinging the knife several times but always just a bit short. Grey closed again, a thrust kick to the ribs, a reverse spin kick to the weak knee, then a twirling right punch to the sore nose, starting a fresh flow of blood. Then he danced away with both fists raised, weaving back and forth in the short winter grass, looking for a new opening.

"You cannot run forever," Lopota grunted. His face was puffy with bruises, his posture aggravated. He swung again and again in frustration, but it felt like he was swiping at a jackrabbit.

"Why don't you put the knife down and fight like a man?" Grey taunted, knowing that wouldn't happen.

Lopota's reaction was predictable. He tucked in his hairy chin and charged, thrusting so hard he lost his balance. This time the blade sliced through Grey's green shirt, but it allowed him to step inside, grab Lopota's arm, and flip him upside down. Lopota landed heavily in the grass face first, Grey sitting on his back.

Lopota bucked, trying to shake Grey off, but he couldn't break the hold as his outstretched arm was twisted backward halfway to the shoulder blades. When Grey increased the pressure on the bent arm, Lopota put his head painfully to the ground and ceased resistance.

"Ben! Look out!" Garn shouted, pointing toward Lopota's hunters.

But Grey had already seen the movement, the nocking of arrows. He reached back with his free hand, drew the pistol hidden in his belt, and opened fire. The first explosive pellet cut the lead archer's bow in half, the taunt strings whipping into his face. The second shot cut a tree limb above two more, showering them with leaves and splinters. The archers withdrew into the shadows.

"Those are just warnings," Grey said. "Make them stand down or I'll kill the next man who raises a bow." Lopota had seen the shooting, just like everyone else. The stranger was not boasting.

"Don't interfere!" Lopota shouted.

From the other side of the meadow, Helva and the others stared open mouthed as Lopota's hunters hid behind trees. Garn grinned with glee.

"What did I tell you, Helva? No one can beat Ben. No one!" Garn bragged.

"I'm not so sure about that, youngster, though he does well enough against overconfident opponents," Helva said.

"Are you ready to fight him again?" Leena teasingly asked.

"No, I'd rather not," Helva confessed.

In the meadow, the fight had come to an end, the pain in Lopota's shoulder only increasing each time he tried to shake Grey off.

"Tell me what you want," Lopota grunted.

"Nothing you can give," Grey replied. "If you promise to keep the peace, we have no argument. I'd rather be fighting hornfeet than big idiots like you. But if you don't keep the peace, we're going to have a problem. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Lopota agreed.

"That's good. One last thing. You shouldn't have hit Leena." Grey put his knee down on Lopota's arm and pushed sharply against the radius bone. Lopota gritted his teeth but didn't cry out as the bone cracked.

Grey tucked the pistol in his belt and waited to see if there was going to be more trouble. When there wasn't, he retrieved the energy blaster and walked back to his side of the clearing. He was breathing hard but didn't want to appear flustered.

"You broke his arm, didn't you? We could hear it from here," Helva said.

"I'm not in a forgiving vein today," Grey said, going to see if Leena was hurt. Leena gave him a hug, followed by Olda and Vanark, all three women grateful.

In the meadow, Lopota was sitting up when his men came forward, bows slung over their shoulders. They helped him back to the trees where they made camp. Grey walked to Helva's tent where he sat down on a fallen log. Leena put a wet cloth on his forehead, soothing a superficial cut.

"It's nothing," Grey protested as the others gathered around. Garn used a disinfectant from their medical kit to clean the wound. Olda tore a strip of linen from her tunic for a bandage.

Once the injury was treated, Garn picked up the medical kit and dashed across the meadow without asking for Grey's permission.

"Garn! Garn, come back here!" Grey shouted.

"He'll come back after he's finished," Leena said.

"Finished doing what?" Grey asked.

"He's going to fix Lopota's arm using the hornfeet medicine," Olda said. "He wants to be a healer. I think Lopota is his first patient."

"As I said, the boy is smart," Helva said. "Ben has broken Lopota's arm. Garn puts Lopota in our debt by mending it. Garn will make a good leader someday."

"Better than I'll ever be," Grey admitted.

When they resumed the trail east for the hills and rivers around Saramont, one of Lopota's young archers fell in with the party, laughing with the women but minding his manners. Grey half expected the man to put an arrow in his back at the first opportunity, but Helva assured him Taba was too honorable for such an act.

Grey glanced back at the young newcomer strolling between Leena and Vanark. He walked with the assurance of a skilled hunter. He had an intelligent gaze and a carefree grin, smiling easily and laughing often. His long brown hair, light brown eyes and square jaw provided a manly attraction. Leena was blushing.

After an hour, Taba caught up with Grey, Hope and Garn, offering them pieces of camouflage for their outfits and trying to make small talk. Grey wasn't good at it, but Garn had plenty to say. Only Grey's frowns kept him from saying too much. When Leena came forward to take Hope, Garn apologized to her for helping Lopota.

"Don't be sorry," Leena said, happily carrying Hope next to her breast. "Lopota can be overbearing, but there are worse men. Fixing his arm was a good thing. How did you become a healer?"

"By watching Ben," Garn said.

"You're a healer, too?" Taba asked.

"Not really," Grey denied.

"Our best healer is Black Hands," Garn said. "And my mother, Myra, often treats people in our camp. Especially my father, Clagg. He's always getting bruises. I didn't decide to become a healer until Shalli died, but by then it was too late."

"That's much responsibility for one so young. How many years are you? Nine or ten?" Taba asked.

"Nine," Garn said.

"Garn is the hero of our march," Grey praised. "Without him, Hope and I would have died in the mountains."

Garn's eyes dropped shyly, which made Leena laugh. Taba was impressed.

"Taba, why have you joined us?" Grey finally asked, trying not to sound suspicious. Taba glanced at Leena, who looked away with embarrassment. Grey and Garn noticed.

"Lopota would have me find out more about the strangers. Something the boy said made my chieftain curious," Taba explained.

"Look at the trouble you've caused, Garn," Grey scolded. "Because of your foolish stories, Taba must share our trail and spend the entire day with Leena. Shouldn't you apologize?"

"I'm sorry, Taba. I hope you won't be forced to share a fur with Leena, too," Garn said.

Taba smiled. In the short time he had spent with the strangers, he had already grown fond of Garn. As Lopota had. The boy was smart and filled with decided opinions, especially about his uncle. Now Taba began to see Grey in a new light, not as the cruel avenger in the meadow, but someone easily approached if no threats were involved.

"Lopota has heard a rumor. There is no dishonor to be beaten by a great warrior. To be beaten by an escaped slave is shameful. What word should I bring him?" Taba dared to ask. Grey laughed, which surprised Garn and Leena.

"You're a subtle man, Taba, but I have no answer for you," Grey said. "I was trained by the best teachers my culture had to offer. One was an expert in the martial arts. Another was a shaman so wise and ancient that peoples everywhere bowed to him in homage. Lopota is strong, but he lacks my knowledge. It's as simple as that."

"There's nothing more? No names that need to be mentioned?" Taba asked.

"No, that's all that needs to be said," Grey assured him.

"I'll tell Lopota your name is Ben, as you prefer," Taba said. "But you came over Bad Luck Pass in a snowstorm carrying a child named Hope. You walk with a boy who is a healer. You cannot be frightened. You beat Lopota, and I heard you beat Helva. I'll tell Lopota your name is Ben, but I think there's more."

Taba dropped back to join Conapt and some of the younger men.

"I know what you're thinking," Leena said, opening her tunic to give Hope milk. "You think if Garn was more discreet, there would be less talk. But it was you who challenged Lopota instead of letting Helva consider his demands. You broke Lopota's arm. You made target practice of his hunters. No one would think more if you didn't prove Garn right."

"I'm not always very smart," Grey admitted. "I'll strive to be more ordinary."

Garn and Leena started laughing. Garn laughed so hard he had to stop walking. Leena paused Hope's feeding. Grey tried not to be annoyed by their mirth but realized his expectations might be unrealistic. It brought back old memories. He found a fallen tree and took a moment to sit.

"Ben? Ben, what's wrong?" Garn asked.

"Nothing. I was just remembering. Thoughts that go very far back. But it was only yesterday."

"To your days on another world?" Garn asked.

"Even farther than that. To when I was a child, growing up on my planet's moon," Grey answered.

"Do the memories make you sad?" Leena asked.

"Sometimes. I've traveled so far from the path that was expected of me, I hardly recognize myself. Yet here I am, still performing my primary function."

"I understand nothing of what you say," Leena questioned.

"I do," Garn said. "You're what your mentors made you, even though it's not what you wanted. But they knew. So did Mordari. I think you know, too, but don't want to accept it."

Grey took Hope from Leena, holding her close. The baby's skin was soft, the light blue eyes bright. Her tiny hands clutched near her small face. Grey couldn't describe the feeling of holding her. The love that nearly burst his heart. And the sacrifice Shalli had made for her daughter.

"What I want or don't want has never mattered, until now," he said. "My daughter will live in the freedom I never had. One day, I hope her people will, too."

* * * * * *

The group moved, hunted, and camped for six more days until reaching Saramont. As they came over a steep pass between two rugged hills, Grey saw a long swath of trees running for dozens of kilometers north and south along a wide lazy river. Beyond the river, past a thin string of trees, was a vast rolling prairie. Saramont wasn't just one village, but a series of villages cleverly hidden in trees and gullies. Tall granite cliffs rose west of the river pocked with numerous caves. Camouflage covered many of the trails, providing rapid retreat if necessary.

A long dirt path led toward the center of the community. Grey noticed the people were dressed in various shades of green and brown, many carrying varieties of food, clothing, and goods, indicating an industrious society. Numerous wicker pens held livestock resembling pigs and chickens. Slabs of deer meat hung from wooden racks. What campfires he noticed were under thick growths of trees, dispersing the smoke enough to reduce visibility from the air. Underneath the largest trees were tradesmen of specific crafts: potters, leatherworkers, blacksmiths. Dug deep into the earth were living spaces and storage for merchants. At least one burrow he saw appeared to be a tavern. Despite everything Baron Gamtro had said, Grey realized the primitives of the eastern continent were not so primitive after all.

At first the returning hunters received little attention, even with Taba walking point with Conapt. But when they saw Grey holding Hope and Garn carrying a strange leather bag, many stopped to look at the oddly clothed strangers. An archer named Robner, who had been with Lopota in the forest, suddenly appeared at Taba's side. They fell back along Grey's flanks, forming an armed escort. Crowds began to gather, most keeping to the cover of the thick trees. The size of the throng surprised Grey. From what Gamtro had told him, only a few hundred primitives were supposed to live east of the mountains, yet there were at least that many in Saramont alone.

"This way," Helva said, directing Grey toward a large growth of giant oaks. Grey had not seen such majestic trees since visiting North America's national forests many years before. Of course, they weren't actually oaks. Not like those on his homeworld. But they were close enough.

Passing through huge camouflage curtains, Grey was surprised to find a vaulted meeting hall, the canopy above them a carefully woven lattice work preventing aerial observation. Many people were running ahead of them, pushing for good spots to see the visitors.

"Don't worry," Grey whispered to Garn, a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not worried. Everyone likes me. You're the one who should be worried," Garn said.

"Carry Hope for me. I want my hands free," Grey decided, clearing the leather holster holding Mordari's energy pistol.

"There are too many for you to shoot," Garn warned.

"There aren't that many. After shooting the first ten or fifteen, the rest will scatter," Grey explained, studying the best targets. Garn looked up, assuming he was making a joke. Grey wasn't smiling.

"Answer Raynaar's questions honestly and all will be well," Helva assured him.

The hall of great trees soon had more than three hundred men, women and children crowding inside, all dressed in forest greens. On the far side of the chamber, two elaborately carved wooden chairs sat side by side on a raised platform.

Grey and Garn stopped in the middle of the shadowed assembly room, light coming from gaps between the tree branches. Olda and Leena lingered a few steps behind. Helva stood close by. To Grey's surprise, Lopota's archers took positions to either side, indicating an intention to protect him. The gesture was unnecessary but significant.

"I thought there would be interest, but this is more than I expected," Helva said, feeling nervous.

"It's a lot more than I expected," Grey remarked, not the least bit happy.

"No harm will come to you," Taba promised, holding his bow ready. The young man glanced around as Grey had done, seeking enemies. There could be no doubt of his courage.

"I don't need a bodyguard," Grey insisted, pushing Taba's bow aside.

After a few minutes of suspense, Raynaar and Ussan made a dramatic appearance. Both were rather heavyset and well-dressed in long brown robes. Raynaar had a wide face and stringy blond hair. His mate was dark, with elegantly combed brunette hair and vivid emerald eyes that held suspicion but no malice. They seemed in their late forties, conducting themselves as royalty as they sat in the carved chairs with practiced grace. Eight Saramont archers stood watch, four to each side of the platform. Grey quietly rested his hand on the energy blaster, selecting which targets he would take out first if it became necessary. He didn't want to fight these people, but he wasn't afraid either. His attitude seemed to convey itself, Raynaar and Ussan viewing him with grim respect.

"I am Raynaar, Chief of Saramont. With me sits my mate, Ussan, daughter of King Lowatt, who ruled all the river valleys under the eastern sky. Who comes before us seeking mercy at our hands?" Raynaar asked.

Grey stood silently.

"Ben, he means you," Garn whispered.

"I've not come seeking anyone's mercy," Grey announced loud enough for all to hear. "We come by Helva's invitation. If we aren't welcome, we'll leave. It's a poor leader who greets his guests with a threat."

Raynaar stood up, his face brimming with indignation. Ussan grabbed his arm and whispered softly, getting him to sit. Reluctantly.

"We have not spoken properly," Ussan gently apologized. "We greet these strangers. Who comes to Saramont? What would you ask of us?"

"Please, Ben, try not to make them mad," Garn begged, frightened by the large crowd, now grown to four hundred curious villagers.

"Raynaar is much with pride, but wise in the ways of our people," Helva advised, edging up to stand at Grey's elbow. "His wife is respected for her calm judgment. They're good to have as friends."

Grey put a hand on Helva's shoulder to thank him for the advice. And almost wished Garn could be their spokesman.

"Thank you, Raynaar and Ussan, leaders of these brave people," Grey said, continuing to practice the accent learned from the hunters on their trek. "I've had many names. Since coming to your world, I've been called Ben. With me is Garn, son of Clagg and Myra, leaders of Ferret Camp, much known for their courage. We bring my daughter, Hope, born on the mountain during our journey. Her mother was Shalli, so loved for her kindness that even our enemies treasured her.

"For a time, I thought it possible the slaves of the west would thrive if they developed mutual cooperation with the hornfeet. I was wrong. I failed to remember the lessons of my own world, where it's thought better to die free than live a slave. It's a mistake I'll not make again."

The crowd murmured. Grey talked softly, but his words were strong. The people realized he spoke truly when he denied seeking anyone's mercy.

"We have word from our brother of the forest, Lopota of the Setua, that you're a skilled warrior. Do you seek recruits to fight the hornfeet?" Raynaar asked.

Everyone expected Grey to say yes. Even Garn. They were disappointed.

"I seek no recruits, Raynaar. Your people are not prepared to challenge a technological civilization such as the Arikhan," Grey answered.

"Then what do you request?" Ussan asked, sitting forward in surprise.

"I request nothing but a place of safety for Hope and Garn," Grey said. "In time, maybe others. We'll need land for farming and hunting."

"How many others?" Raynaar asked.

"I can't say. Hopefully many. This is a big land, sparsely settled. You have the space."

"How will you protect escaped slaves from hornfeet revenge?" Raynaar asked.

"I'll find a way," Grey replied.

"Are you not afraid of the hornfeet?" Raynaar asked.

"Today, yes. Perhaps tomorrow. Someday, that will change. I make no claim it will be easy. To strive for freedom means hardship and sacrifice."

"We know this to be true," Raynaar said. "What makes you believe these things can be brought about? Are you special in some manner?"

"I make no assertions, nor do I acknowledge assertions made in my name. If you can help find a place for refugees to settle, I welcome it. If not, then I'll do my best without your help."

"And if we oppose you?" Raynaar said.

"I've been opposed before," Grey answered, his eyebrows bent.

The room was quiet, most waiting for Grey to elaborate. Waiting for him to say that Lopota's rumor might be true. When he said nothing, there was a noticeable increase in tension. Raynaar and Ussan consulted before rendering their decision.

"These strangers are invited to stay while the council decides in what manner we should respond to their needs," Raynaar declared. "Anyone who wishes to offer suggestions should approach your village elders. All voices will be heard."

Raynaar and Ussan swiftly exited, going behind a curtain and out the back way. Grey and Garn felt the dissatisfaction left in their wake.

* * * * * *

Chapter Three

THE PATH TO DORYMONT

"I don't think we'll be staying. Your people appear unhappy about something," Grey said to Helva as they left the meeting hall.

"I thought they would make a better greeting," Helva apologized.

"Why didn't you say more?" Garn asked.

Taba came up to them, then Conapt, Leena and Olda, all of them anxious to hear Grey's explanation.

"Say more about what?" Grey questioned.

"Garn is right, you should have said more," Taba agreed.

"Garn hasn't said anything yet," Grey answered.

"The people were waiting for you to speak," Garn said. "To declare war against the masters. They want you to be Akeem."

"The elders are afraid of false prophets, but most of us have waited all our lives to make a fight. We were looking to you," Conapt explained.

Grey realized it was the younger men and women who seemed the most disillusioned, though even Helva looked sad.

"Once again, Garn sees more clearly than I do. Maybe he should be Akeem?" Grey suggested. The youngsters laughed. Garn was embarrassed. "Taba, is this why you traveled to Saramont? To hear me make such a declaration?"

"Lopota asked for a volunteer to walk with you, another to reach Raynaar and give him the news," Taba reported.

"I understand better now," Grey said, rubbing his graying beard in thought.

"Does this mean you'll tell everyone who you are?" Garn asked.

"Damn it, Garn, I've told everybody who I am!" Grey barked. "But even if I was Akeem, I wouldn't lead a band of villagers into battle against the Arikhan. That's why I never encouraged the slave camp to revolt. Taba, Helva, Conapt, all of you, please know that I respect your courage, but you don't have the training to fight such a war."

"Then give us the training," Conapt urged.

"You don't know what you're asking for, my young friend," Grey said. "Being a soldier is a far path from being a hunter. Or even a warrior, as your culture understands it. Fighting the Arikhan will mean giving up everything you care for."

"I will give up everything to fight the hornfeet," Conapt swore.

"Me, too," Taba agreed, gripping his bow.

"Give us a chance. Teach us how to free our people," Olda pleaded.

Grey's initial reaction was to growl, but he quickly suppressed the impulse. He looked to Helva, hoping a wiser head would prevail. Helva smiled, knowing what Grey was seeking. But Helva also wanted to see his people freed from the alien conquerors.

"I know your feelings," Grey slowly said. "I remember my own youth, many years ago, before ..."

His words dropped away as memories of lost comrades suddenly intruded. People he had loved and respected. By some accounts, he had accomplished great things, but it was the failures he remembered most vividly. And the terrible price others had paid for those failures.

"We ask much," Taba said, reading the haunted expression. "Maybe now, we know how much. But we still ask."

"Let me think on it," Grey answered, providing hope. "But until you have my answer, no more speculation. I have a daughter and a nephew to consider. I don't want every village idiot demanding I live up to some impossible ideal."

As the people dispersed, Helva led Grey's party around the council chamber to a long spiny ridge running north halfway between the river and the cliffs. Pine trees grew dense enough to provide cover. Down by the river, several canoes lined the bank hidden under willow trees. The men working there stood bare-chested even in the cold afternoon, some fishing, others providing transport to the opposite shore. One particular boatman, a giant long-haired blond, was staring at Grey with unrestrained hostility.

"I have a lodge below Catspaw. It's small but more comfortable than the caves," Helva said, taking them a kilometer north along the ridge overlooking the river. The reverse slope of the ridge was riddled with burrows, the entrances braced with timber like the openings of Karak's older mine shafts. When they reached Helva's burrow, Garn initially backed away, unwilling to walk down the dark flagstone steps. Grey wasn't anxious to enter a mine either, looking back toward the rugged hills and the many caves. Trees covered some of the open land, in other places camouflaged trenches led up from the river, but much of it was exposed ground. He wondered if tunnels wouldn't provide more safety.

"Kastara, we arrive," Helva said, pushing open the heavy wood door.

Leena followed Helva down into the burrow carrying Hope close to her breast. Grey and Garn lingered outside.

"After you, Akeem," Garn said, bowing with reverence.

"Do you turn coward, nephew?" Grey asked, moving aside to let him enter first.

"All know you are one with the mountain."

"This is merely a hill."

"I won't enter until you do," Garn insisted.

"Good. Let's sleep out here tonight," Grey replied.

A woman appeared in the doorway looking up at them, Helva standing behind her. She was Helva's age, buxom, with short red hair and a dark demanding gaze. Her simple dress was made of checkered blue gingham with black ruffles around the collar.

"Is there a reason Helva's woman must come to her door in the cold?" she asked, her foot beating impatiently against the threshold. Garn ran down the steps. Grey followed looking chagrined.

The underground den was larger than Helva hinted, though still only a single room. An iron stove dominated the far corner with a bed curtained off along one wall. A low table and sitting furs filled the middle of the room. Maple cabinets held pottery and colored bottles made of fine glass. Grey thought the ceramics well crafted.

"Welcome to my home, Ben and Garn," Helva formally greeted, an arm proudly wrapped around Kastara's shoulders.

"Thank you, Kastara, and Helva, for your hospitality," Grey said, nodding his head twice as he had seen the forest people do.

"And your friendship," Garn quickly added.

Leena seated herself on a fur near the stove, giving Hope a feeding. Grey was grateful but questioning. Leena noticed.

"My sister tends Novik. I miss my baby, but Hope's needs are greater," Leena explained.

"That's very generous," Grey said, a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. One everyone in the burrow noticed, for the stranger seemed deep in cares.

"Would you share a meal?" Kastara asked, getting the plates without waiting for an answer. The smell of stew wafted through the burrow. Then, for the first time, Grey noticed the lamps lighting the room weren't candles. Most of the fixtures held filament torches.

"You have electricity?" Grey abruptly asked, showing surprise. Helva laughed, and after a moment, Leena laughed, too.

"You think us unacquainted with such wonders, Akeem?" Helva asked.

"Please do not call me Akeem. And yes, I don't understand how your society has managed so many wonders. Your lamps. The steel weapons. The fine dinnerware."

Helva laughed again, happy to find his new friend with such questions. Kastara appreciated the compliment of her table settings.

"We have kept much of the old knowledge. Not as much as we like. Raynaar's turbines in the River Cave make the generators spin. Sometimes they grind more than they spin, but we are grateful for the light. Each village also draws power from the small generators damning their creeks. How is it slaves know of electricity and steel?" Helva asked.

"And fine dining?" Kastara wondered.

"I know of such things," Grey said, not inviting further inquiries.

Everyone sat on the floor supported by large pillows. Kastara finished laying out colorful bowls on the low table before serving the stew from a copper kettle, careful to serve Garn first, who looked especially eager. He resisted eating right away out of politeness. Helva closed his eyes in prayer, as did Kastara and Leena.

"Great Wan-tan, lord of the spirits, we thank you," Helva said. "Greet our new friends at your fire. Give them your protection. Give us wisdom that all might see their hearts. Life everlasting."

"Life everlasting," Kastara and Leena repeated.

"Life everlasting," Garn whispered, feeling Leena take his hand. Grey sat quietly, neither affirming nor denying Helva's prayer.

"Have you no god to call upon?" Kastara said, setting out a basket of fresh baked bread. Garn licked his lips, shivering with anticipation.

"I've known several gods, but its best I not speak with them right now. Too many are angry with me already," Grey said.

"I heard there was much excitement at the council tree," Kastara related.

"Yes, it was exciting," Helva confirmed, taking a clay jug from a cabinet and filling everyone's cups. Small amounts were given the women, a tall mug for himself. "Ben, would you care for some reeba? And perhaps the smallest splash for young Garn?"

"Thank you," Grey said, tasting a mild malted beer before letting Garn have some.

"What was the excitement? Is Ben declared the Liberator?" Kastara asked.

Grey guessed she already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from him. Even this older woman seemed to harbor some suspicion.

"I am not declared the Liberator. To be a liberator, one must liberate, and this I have entirely failed to do," Grey said, drinking heavily of the frisky brew.

"You freed me, and Hope is born in freedom," Garn disagreed.

"And I freed Shalli from life. Such a liberation is not what the people pray for."

"Shalli was Ben's mate. The mother of this little one. She died crossing the mountain," Leena explained for Kastara's benefit.

"Now I understand your bitterness with the gods. When I heard an escaped slave had appeared claiming to be the Liberator, I thought it another trick of our enemies," Kastara said, placing her hand on Grey's arm. Her suspicion was gone, replaced with sympathy. Grey slowly pulled his arm away.

"And now?" Helva asked.

"Now I think we have new friends," Kastara said. "We can make room for you beside the door. Helva brings enough furs to keep us warm on these cold nights."

"We are grateful, but we may not stay long," Grey replied, much to everyone's astonishment.

"Where will you go? Raynaar has not yet granted you the freedom of our forest," Leena mentioned, clutching Hope tighter.

"And we haven't learned much about the people," Garn complained.

"The boy is right. You mustn't think of leaving so soon. You have family to care for," Kastara said, sharing the unhappy expressions.

"Enough. None may tell a man where to go," Helva insisted.

"Ben's anger against the gods should not be used to punish these children," Kastara protested.

"You have more than one god?" Garn asked.

"Yes, there are many gods," Kastara explained. "We call on them for bounty and protection. And solace in times of sorrow."

"My mate serves the Eternal Circle," Helva said, showing them a necklace of intertwined vines decorated with dry flowers. "They meet on the full moons to ask for blessings."

"I'll talk with Ussan," Kastara said. "She won't let these little ones be taken into the forest."

Garn and Leena were quiet. If Grey wanted to leave Saramont, neither believed it would be possible to stop him.

"Ben, have you ever smoked the kabba leaf? Much does it relax on a cool evening."

Helva took a squat jar from a shelf, found two smoking pipes, and led Grey outside where they could speak privately. Kastara gave Garn more stew, seeing the youngster was underweight, and then asked to hold Hope. The baby needed better care, too.

Outside, under the dark branches of a large tree, Helva used a flint to light their clay pipes.

"Do your people use smokers?" Helva asked.

"In my younger days, I indulged in an occasional cigar," Grey answered, drawing slowly.

"Garn says you come from the stars. What does that mean?" Helva asked.

"There are many planets with populations on them. The hornfeet come from a planet called Arikhan. I come from another world, one so far away that the light from its star can barely be seen. From what I'm told, humans such as ourselves inhabit many faraway worlds. The Arikhan appear to be unique. Some years ago, one of their fleets invaded my solar system. Even though we stopped them, I became a prisoner here on Akrona."

"We've heard of other worlds. There is even a story Riverdawn tells of travelers coming from the sky to trade for rare stones. I didn't believe it until now. I thought only the hornfeet traveled the stars."

"It's a big universe," Grey said, taking another puff and finding it soothing.

"The hornfeet travel in sky ships. Do your people have sky ships?"

"We have sky ships, as you call them, to travel from city to city. To travel from planet to planet, we made spaceships."

"Then maybe your people will come for you? Maybe they will help us?"

"I'm afraid not," Grey sighed. "The distance is very far, and our ships are not that good. Not nearly so good as the hornfeet ships. And my people think me dead. We should not expect help from the stars."

"Except for you," Helva corrected.

"I didn't help the people of Karak. I did not help my wife. I don't know of anything I can do to help Saramont. No, my friend, do not expect too much."

"Is that why you want to leave? To reduce expectations? Providing for Garn and your daughter in the forest will be difficult. Or do you plan to leave Garn and Hope here?"

"Garn is right that we need to learn more of your people. He's a very bright youngster," Grey said without answering Helva's question.

* * * * * *

"The lodge is adequate?" Ussan asked, walking with Grey at the northern edge of Helva's village. Having abandoned her royal robes for forest green, the barrel-shaped woman strode with the confidence of a king's daughter. Grey was contrite.

"Better than I could hope for," Grey admitted.

The lodge they spoke of was a sturdy log cabin under a deep canopy of oak trees. A creek ran west to east toward the river, and nearby was a box canyon fenced off at the mouth. Beyond the fence were several horses. At least, they were creatures that looked like horses. There were no people living in the immediate area, the nearest settlement fifty yards south.

"You asked for privacy, a safe burrow for the children, and a place to study my animals. Have I met all your demands?" Ussan asked, not without irritation.

"I didn't wish to offend. I'm sorry," Grey apologized.

"Anyone may be sorry. Will you now promise to stay at Saramont until the children grow strong?"

"May I ride your horses?" Grey asked.

"More demands?" Ussan said, scrunching her eyebrows.

"Not a demand, merely a request," Grey said.

"You may ride the horses, though only a few of our people have ever expressed such a wish," Ussan agreed.

"We'll stay until summer solstice," Grey promised.

"Or longer?"

"Perhaps longer. I will make no plan without consulting you."

Satisfied with Grey's compliance, Ussan turned to wave a group of people forward. Garn ran up with a big smile. Leena followed carrying her baby while Kastara held Hope. Behind them came Helva and Taba bringing furs and baskets of food. Grey entered the cabin last, finding a comfortably large space with a stone fireplace and several straw-covered sleeping platforms. The gaps in the logs were packed with dried mud. Glass windows facing south and east allowed the sun in. Plank flooring provided insulation from the cold ground.

"Raynaar built this cottage while we were capturing the horses. Now it's our private retreat, much beloved in our older years. We want it back when you no longer need it," Ussan said.

"I hadn't planned on taking it with us," Grey remarked.

Garn poked him with his elbow, warning Grey to mind his manners.

"It's lovely. Thank you, Ussan," Leena said while Taba laid out the sleeping furs. Though there were no cabinets, Kastara found shelves for the food and Helva placed a jug of reeba near the door where it would stay cold. Grey gently put Hope on a thick fur near the hearth, feeling overwhelmed to finally have a safe home for her. His eyes suddenly grew misty and he turned away, wiping tears with his sleeve. All noticed but remained discreet.

"We'll talk tomorrow," Ussan announced.

"Yes, Ussan," Grey said with respect.

Ussan acknowledged him and returned to the southern villages, taking the visitors with her. Besides Grey and Garn, only Leena and the two babies remained, though Taba made it clear he would be a frequent visitor. Leena blushed at the suggestion. Grey started a fire, and as dark fell, lit two of the oil lamps mounted on the walls.

"Thank you for taking such good care of us, Leena," Garn said as she roasted deer meat. A tomato-like soup was simmering near the fireplace. Sitting quietly in a crude rocking chair, Grey set Hope down while gazing sheepishly at Leena. Then he stood up and took her in his arms.

"I need to say more than thank you," he said, hugging her. "Words can't express the gratitude I feel for your help, and for coming here to stay with us. And for saving Hope, who would've died. If there's ever anything you need, do not hesitate to ask."

Leena started to cry. Grey had not expressed himself in such strong terms before, nor displayed such a loving heart. She wanted to say something in return, an expression of the hope he had brought her and many others, but a glance at Garn kept her quiet.

Early the next morning, Grey and Garn went to visit Saramont's craftsmen while Leena shopped for bread and cheese. Located in the center of the largest settlement, two dozen stalls were hidden under tall trees set twenty yards back from the river. Garn was particularly impressed by the variety of products, many of which he'd never seen before. East of them, they saw young boys and girls fishing at the great river's edge.

"Look, Ben, they make glass like you did at Ka'lan," Garn said as they strolled under the trees. "They have knives, and steel arrowheads, and all kinds of leather."

"I have a project for one of the leathermakers," Grey said.

Some of the village people treated the strangers coolly, but others were curious about their previous life in the slave camp. Garn did most of the talking. Too much, in Grey's opinion.

"We have little to trade. Perhaps I may provide a service?" Grey asked when they finally reached the trees of the leatherworkers.

"This thing you call saddle is strange. I don't know how long it will take to make. What skills may you offer?" the leatherworker asked, a short balding man with strong hands named Johann. Grey glanced at a string of night lamps above the stall, seeing several frayed connections.

"I know how to--" Grey started to say, but suddenly he was interrupted by the blond fisherman he'd seen at the river several days before. The man stormed up with a disagreeable frown, pushing people out of his way.

"I am Farken, leader of the boatmen. You have no business here," the big man said, fists poised on his hips in challenge. Grey ignored him, turning back to his conversation with Johann. Farken grabbed Grey's shoulder and spun him around.

"I speak with you, spy of our enemies. Leave before you get hurt," Farken threatened.

"Who's going to hurt him? You?" Garn defiantly asked, stepping into Farken's path. Farken reached to shove Garn aside but Grey pulled the youngster back. For a moment, it looked like there would be a fight, many crowding around. They were disappointed.

"Thank you, sir, maybe another time," Grey said to the leatherworker, turning Garn toward the river.

Farken blocked his path. Grey held Garn by the arm and went around him. Farken slapped Grey on the back of the head. Grey kept walking.

"Coward! Coward!" Farken shouted after them.

Grey didn't halt until they reached a row of canoes tied to logs at the water's edge. Farther upstream, a flatboat was hidden under a blanket of ferns. Across the river was the grassy prairie. Good hunting ground, though the river was too wide and too cold to be easily crossed. A group of fishermen stared at them with contempt.

"Why did you do that? Now everyone will think you're afraid," Garn complained as they went back toward their cabin.

"What others think doesn't matter," Grey said.

"But it does matter! Now they'll never think you're Akeem."

"Maybe we should worry more about finding food for Leena and Hope, and getting tools so we can return those Helva loaned us. Firewood doesn't fall into our camp. I can't hunt deer with a blaster. We can't make clothing out of bark. We're not in a slave camp anymore where everything is handed to us by our masters."

Grey marched ahead alone, leaving Garn to consider his words. Raynaar strolled down from a low ridge protecting the burrows, apparently having watched from a distance. The village chieftain sat Garn down under a tree and gave him a roll of sweet bread.

"Your uncle is angry. I heard what Farken said. Farken is strong. A good fighter. There's no shame in walking away," Raynaar consoled.

"Ben could have smashed his face in! He killed Marne and his wolves. He killed the masters who beat Tak. He's a better fighter than anybody. I don't understand why he let that fish man insult him."

"Don't worry. None here will let you go without food."

"I'm not worried. Ben will take care of us. He always takes care of everybody. That's why I don't understand why he would run away."

Raynaar saw tears in Garn's eyes, the pain of seeing his hero tarnished. But the leader thought it for the best. Maybe there would be fewer expectations now.

A moon rose just as the sun was setting. Grey made sure his family was warm for the night before slipping out to walk along the high cliffs above Saramont. He stopped on a quiet outcrop above the settlement to think, watching the moonlight reflect off the river. An occasional lamp showed along the shoreline, but for the most part, the villagers kept the area dark to avoid Arikhan scrutiny.

He was so lost in thought that he barely heard Taba arrive and sit next to him, nor did he immediately acknowledge the young hunter's presence.

"You have much on your mind," Taba finally said.

"Shouldn't you be warming Leena's furs?" Grey grumbled.

"Maybe you should be warming her furs. She has much love for you."

"I don't sleep with children. Is that why you've delayed returning to Owlmont? Afraid I'll steal your woman?"

"I no longer have such fear, though for a time it worried me. But I must return to Owlmont soon to give Lopota word. What should I tell him?"

"There's nothing to tell," Grey said, scratching the ground with a stick.

"I think there is much to tell," Taba insisted.

Grey looked up at the smaller of the two moons, a pale globe marked with a red ring. Shadowy winter clouds streaked the sky. It would rain soon. He heard wolves howl from across the river.

"You can speak to me. I'll say no more than you wish," Taba quietly promised.

"Why are you so sure I'm the Liberator?" Grey asked with irritation.

"It's a feeling, but a strong one. Should I need more?"

"Yes, you should need more. Just as I do."

"In what manner do you doubt yourself?"

"I wanted to free the people at Karak. Bring them to the eastern forests. But Karak is eight hundred kilometers away over rough mountains. Longer if we take the southern route through the river country. Where would I get enough food for two thousand people? What shelter would we find? How would I fight off the hornfeet?"

"You don't face these challenges alone," Taba said, taking out a bottle of parra. He took a sip of the fermented grains before passing the bottle to Grey.

"I'm afraid I do. Your people are brave, Taba, but you have no idea what the Arikhan are capable of. They have energy weapons. Air power. Long-range communications. How would you fight such wonders?"

"In the manner you tell us to," Taba answered.

"You show too much faith, my friend. I'm no liberator. It was only the hopeless dream of an escaped slave."

"Many have hopeless dreams. Each year the hornfeet come. Some years they raid to the north. Sometimes they raid the river country. They've raided the delta villages. Last year, Owlmont felt their wrath. I lost my mother. Lopota lost a son. Our hopeless dream is to have no fear of the skies."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize the Arikhan took such an interest this far from their colonies."

"I know the slave camps must be terrible."

"The people there are worked nearly to death. The old and injured are harvested for the Arikhan butcher shops. My dearest friend was Tak. Guards stole her infant sons, and when she fought back, they beat her to death. I know that doesn't lessen the pain of your loss. Or the fear for those you love. Have you more family?"

"Yes. My father thrives on the grasslands. He breeds antels. You saw antels on our trek in. You called them cattle."

"There are similar creatures on the western plains. We call them buffalo," Grey said. "Brothers? Sisters?"

"I have three older brothers, all married. My sister will be mated on the next double moon."

"No mate for Taba? You seem to be a strong, healthy young man."

"There was a beautiful girl. With a wonderful smile. She lived at Dorymont."

"Lived?"

"Dorymont was destroyed in the last spring raid."

"Your people have persevered well against these oppressions. Is Owlmont larger than Saramont?"

"Saramont has more people if you count all the villages along the river. Owlmont has smaller villages spread over a larger range."

"Perhaps you can show it to me someday."

"I will tell Lopota to be ready."

"You don't seem to be listening."

"I hear what's needed. Don't be angry with the people of Saramont, they suffered heavily in the last rebellion. They also possess great patience. They won't disappoint you."

Just before dawn, Grey sat alone at the far end of the settlement where the rocky ridges gave way to the river bending southwest. Thick forest stretched to a mountain chain rising in the distant morning haze. He was still feeling the parra Taba had shared before going to visit Leena.

It can't be done, he thought with a sigh. But I can't leave them there. Not without making the attempt. Ussan's horse is a good mount. I have three weapons. Ussan has taken a special interest in Hope, and many already love Garn. They'll be safe here with the people. Grow up healthy and strong. And Shalli is gone. Gone forever.

Yes, he decided. Come summer, I'll return to Karak.

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more into the breach," he said, mumbling the Bard's ancient oath.

* * * * * *

"Ben, come hunting with us," Conapt said, tapping on the oak door.

Grey yawned, once again having found it difficult to sleep, but he needed to hunt his own food if he was to stop relying on charity. The hides would be useful for trade.

The cabin was warm despite the cold winter morning, plenty of firewood being available in the box canyon where Ussan's horses were corralled. Few of the people chose to get too close to them. Leena and Taba lay huddled behind a discreet curtain. Garn was already up tending the fire. The babies were asleep. Grey took one pistol and his hunting knife, dressing in the forest greens Helva had given him, and tucked his black thermal suit into a leather shoulder bag.

"Ben? Where are you going?" Taba whispered.

"Hunting. Go back to sleep," Grey urged.

"It's a good morning for a hunt," Taba said, giving Leena a kiss and grabbing his gear.

"I want to go, too," Garn said, picking up a bow Raynaar had gifted him. Grey nodded, thinking it best Garn learn to be self-sufficient as soon as possible.

Helva and Conapt waited outside dressed for wet weather. Grey didn't think it would rain but the air was damp. They walked along the southern trail before turning east toward the river. Half a dozen canoes rested in the protection of a camouflaged estuary.

"We require transport," Helva said to one of the boatmen, preparing to climb into a wood-framed canoe.

"We are happy to serve all except the spy," the boatman answered, a tall slender blond similar in appearance to Farken. Possibly a cousin, Grey thought. Within minutes, Farken himself arrived, pleased for the opportunity to cause trouble.

"You may not do this. All hunters are allowed transport for the good of the people," Helva protested.

"The spy is not a hunter. We will take the boy that he may learn to choose better friends. The spy will remain here," Farken said, arms crossed over his chest. He wore a black headband like many of the villagers, this one embroidered with an orange sturgeon.

"Ben comes with us," Helva said, heavy eyebrows bent in anger.

"The boats belong to all," Conapt protested just as strongly.

"The spy will not use my boat," Farken insisted.

"Or mine," his hefty cousin said.

"Then we will not cross the river today. Tell your families not to expect meat from Catspaw," Helva warned.

"You may not withhold a proper share," Farken objected.

"Humiliating a hunter before a guest will not earn you a share of the hunt," Helva complained, trying to stare the boatman down.

"Your threats are empty. We'll take what we want despite your boasting," Farken barked, glaring back at him.

"Do not think to gain hides from the guilds. None will trade with you if Helva says not to," Conapt persisted, ready for a fight.

"Then expect no fish or transport," Farken's cousin said, stepping up with clenched fists.

"We have the ford upstream and fishing poles are easy to make," Conapt replied. "You fishmen are nothing but leeches. Worthless water trash."

The blond cousin reached for a mallet while Farken grabbed a canoe paddle. Several more boatmen began to congregate. Then a group of hunters appeared, many shouting. Grey had heard enough.

"Helva, my friend, let's not make too much of bad manners. I don't need their boats," Grey said. He looked around to make sure there were only men in the area before sitting on a log to remove his boots. To everyone's surprise, Grey stripped off his forest greens and gave the holstered pistol to Garn, keeping the leather shoulder bag with the hunting knife sheathed to the strap.

"You can't swim the river. It's too cold," Helva said with concern.

"It's not a big river. On the world of my birth, only children need boats to cross such an annoyance," Grey boasted.

Farken's face grew red at the slight, but he hesitated to speak. Standing in the morning sun, wearing nothing but a metal collar, Grey's body not only showed a sinewy musculature, but numerous battle scars. Farken was not afraid to fight a smaller opponent, but he had never challenged a seasoned warrior. He would need to think on it.

Using the shoulder bag for modesty, Grey took Garn aside, kneeling next to the canoes.

"I may be gone a few days. Don't be afraid. Do what Leena tells you," Grey whispered.

"Where are you going?" Garn asked.

"There are horses on the prairie I want to study. I also wish to visit the village Taba told me about. You don't mind, do you?"

"I can go with you. I won't talk too much," Garn promised.

"Not this time. Learn Helva's way of hunting. This is our land now. Make me proud."

"All right," Garn said, choking up. Grey strapped the holster around Garn's waist, buckling it tight, and drew the pistol to show the weapon was primed.

"Keep the safety on. Don't use it for hunting," Grey warned.

"I won't," Garn nodded.

Grey gave Garn a hug and turned toward the river, plunging in without another word. The hunters, and even the boatmen, ran to the water's edge in surprise.

"Ben, wait! We'll find another boat!" Conapt shouted.

"Come back!" Helva yelled.

Grey lost his breath on the first splash, but quickly swam to the middle where the flow carried him downstream. Within minutes, the canoes were out of sight, and even the villages had nearly disappeared. Rather than fight the current, he rode with it, gradually edging to the far side of the river where he grabbed a tree root and climbed out.

After crawling over a steep embankment, he sat down in a leafy hollow to dry off. Jumping in the river had not been smart, but the arrogant boatman had made him angry. He also had no desire to cause dissension in the village. And a chance to be alone without giving disrespect to his hosts was welcome.

He started a fire using the kit in the shoulder bag, then dressed in his black thermal suit, donning leather moccasins and a pair of rabbit skin gloves. The weather was still cold, but he'd survived worse in the mountains. Using the knife, he cut a staff for protection against aggressive wildlife and started southeast toward the prairie, leaving the river behind.

The sun came out from behind billowy clouds. With only dead reckoning to guide him, Grey walked briskly through yellow grasses towards the mountains in the distance. At the end of the day, thirty kilometers from the river, he stopped at a babbling brook to rig a trap of intertwined branches. It only took a few minutes to catch a fish for dinner. A canopy of leaves became his shelter for the night.

The ghosts returned in the flames of his small campfire. Shalli. Tak and her babies. Dozens who had died fighting the Arikhan masters. And those he had left behind. He missed Clagg's laughter. Myra's patience. The wisdom of Nole. The friendship of Black Hands. The comradery of Barris. All gone. All for nothing. An owl hooted in a nearby tree. A wolf howled.

Grey remembered the day he had saved Baron Gamtro after the Arikhan commandant had fallen into a water-filled cavern, cutting off his foot to free him from the muddy shaft. He sensed times would change for the worse, and was soon proven correct. Gamtro was forced into retirement, leaving Karak to the mercy of brutal successors. Optimism had been replaced by oppression, and now there was nothing but an empty space in his heart where love once thrived. Grey cursed Gamtro for his carelessness. The stupidity he claimed for himself.

Akeem. What does that really mean? he wondered. Who is Akeem? Just another path to failure without the necessary resources. He lay back on a blanket of dead leaves, his hood pulled up to discourage insects, and gazed deep into the night sky. He had struggled with difficult challenges before.

On the second day, Grey went into the foothills where Taba said the village of Dorymont had been. The path was wide with skinny pine trees marking the way. Former campsites, visible by fire pits, were frequently seen just off the main track, though none were recently used.

Reaching a creek, he carved a point on the staff to spear a fish for lunch. Adding a few berries made a fine meal. He briefly encountered a pack of wolves feeding off a dead antelope, the fierce gray creatures growling with warning, but they proved no more interested in trouble than Earth wolves, letting him pass without incident.

Of course, he knew they weren't really wolves. Any more than the antelope were really antelope as he'd known them on his home planet. But they appeared similar enough, and he wasn't a biologist. He felt no need to give them new names.

Cresting a rise overlooking a large blue lake, Grey found the abandoned site of Dorymont. The village hadn't merely been raided, it had been annihilated. The population kidnapped or killed. All about him was evidence of a people no longer in existence. The blackened stalls of the craft workers. A broken trough that had carried water to the animal pens. Pieces of clothing, torn baskets, and discarded tools. A child's straw doll. All held a pervading sadness.

The village had been far smaller than Saramont, most of it along the southern edge of the lake. Grey guessed there had been eighty people living in the area. Fifty meters of open ground near the shore gradually rose to a low ridge. The trees that had once provided protection now stood like charcoal scarecrows. Beyond the ridge were cliffs, but not the steep granite precipices of Saramont. These were lower, the caves shallow. A potential deathtrap if the population was taken by surprise. Grey sat his shoulder bag down and began a forensic examination of Dorymont's last day.

The raid had taken place in the late afternoon. Utensils the villagers used for the evening meal remained near the cooking pits. Children had been playing near the lake, their toys dropped in the mud. Fishing poles of the young boys still lay half in the water. Atop the highest cliff were the charred remains of a watchtower. A flying craft had come up from the south, struck the guard station, and circled around to land between the ridge and the lake, trapping the women and children against the water.

Grey walked the ground where he believed the craft had landed. Arrowheads and broken spear shafts littered the area, a futile attempt by the villagers to drive off the raiders. Rain and wind had swept away the footprints, but evidence remained where the landing gear had dug into the earth. It had been a shaba'kar. A pilot, eight soldiers, and a cargo hold big enough for forty captives. After disembarking, the Arikhan had established their perimeter and spread out to round up their prey, beginning with the most vulnerable.

Going up the ridge, he found the skeletal remains of the village defenders, as many as twenty men and women had held the crest trying to rescue their loved ones. The ground was burned by energy weapons, the rocks chipped by high powered pellet guns. Wearing body armor, the Arikhan probably suffered few if any casualties. Only close quarters combat would defeat such an opponent, and the villagers lacked the weapons. And more important, they lacked the skills.

The caves may have been the last stand. Sweeping over the ridge, the Arikhan would have driven the survivors into hiding before burning them out. A few villagers had probably escaped into the hills, but their homes were destroyed, their families gone.

Grey sat down on the ridge holding the straw doll, visualizing how the raid had unfolded. It was as if he could see the shaba'kar land, the Arikhan jumping from the cargo hold with weapons at the ready. They fired east, stopping the women and children from fleeing toward the tree line, then fired west to keep them corralled. Another group fired on the ridge, pinning down the defenders. Frontra had hinted of such raids from her years with the Contingent, though she said such complete destruction was rare. Probably intended to send a message.

Saramont had eight times the numbers of Dorymont and deeper caves for protection. Grey doubted the Arikhan could commit as much damage with only one shaba'kar, nor would they feel a need. The raiders would come for slaves and food for their pens. Early spring, he guessed, flying in from the south above the river. He got up and walked the ground again, squeezing the doll in his hand. It had belonged to someone's little girl. In a few years, it could be Hope's doll. One of the young boys fishing at the lakeside might be Garn.

I can't leave Saramont, he decided. Not yet.

Grey buried the straw doll, said a prayer for the people who once lived there, and returned to the prairie, refusing to sleep overnight in a ghost town.

* * * * * *

To be continued.