Chapter Ten

The summons from Jarl came to Fors in the Star House on a frigidly cold day in mid-winter. The words were simple and straightforward, directing Fors to attend the Eyrie Council meeting the next day. Fors carefully laid the message on the table, staring at the seemingly innocuous words. The import behind the summons was starkly clear.

The Eyrie Council was the first attempt at organization undertaken by the early tribal members when the disastrous news of the last war from the lowlands brought them to the realization that they must remain in the mountains in order to survive. Initially, it was only the means by which the work was organized. As time went on and that early organization became a self-sustaining bureacracy, the Council became an arena where issues social, political, and logistical were debated and decided. The nature of life in the mountains, where people daily faced the hard choices of survival had historically created a common unity. But on occasion, even among this tribe of pragmatics, divisive issues arose. And the storms resulting from those issues often broke with ferocity across the Council table. Being on the trails for most of his life, Fors missed many of those storms, perhaps, he considered with a pang of regret, purposefully.

Since Jarl's assumption of the role of Guardian, the Eyrie had moved out into perviously unknown territory. Contact with the other tribes had grown from the rare to the commonplace. This outreach had created tensions among those who for the first time were confronting diversity. Fors' experiences as a Star Man and the tribe's ranking diplomat had taught him that humankind must eventually unite if the race was ever to return to its earlier glory. But others within the tribe did not share that perspective. To them, the unknown was a threat; a source of fear and suspicion. Some of those voices, Fors knew, sat on the council.

That evening, he shared his discomfort with Wenna. Kreston had already retired, somewhat goggle-eyed with fatigue after spending several hours learning how to read and use maps. As the boy had left the room, Fors smiled ruefully to himself, remembering such mind-numbing sessions with his own father.

In the gathering darkness of a dying fire, Fors unburdened himself. Wenna listened patiently, and then responded with a worthy bit of advice: "Keep your eyes and ears open, and your mouth firmly shut. And learn." Fors nodded in agreement. There was little of value he could contribute to such a forum, in any event.

They continued to talk, sharing the trivial events of their days, occasionally laughing quietly. The evening was growing late, and Fors knew he needed to return to his home. But, as such evenings had passed, he was finding it increasingly difficult to leave this remarkable woman. Lately, the simple act of walking out the door had evolved into many minutes of embraces, hand-holding, and kissing. And during the day, despite the demands of his duties, he found it hard to concentrate at times, drifting off into a daydream of anticipation. Gradually, almost subconciously, he realized that was approaching a point of decision. He knew that there hung between them an as-yet unasked question, one that would irrevocably change both their lives. Fors had spent his life asking tough questions of others, demanding of them fundamental changes in their actions and attitudes. Yet, this was different, and Fors often found himself warring with two parts of himself; the man who steadfastly made his own way in life, and the boy who still remembered the pain of rejection.

On this night, they lay before the fire quietly, both reluctantly contemplating the end of this time together. Fors gazed into her green eyes, silently, gently tracing the contours of her face with his fingers. She sighed, somehow conveying the substance of her contentment in that simple exhalation. Within himself, he felt something slide into place; the time had come.

"For so long, I have lived from day to day, avoiding consideration of the future. I always felt that if I took care of today, that the future would take care of itself."

Wenna's eyes widened slightly, her breathing quickened, but she remained silent.

"But in our time together, I have realized that there are certain elements of the future that cannot be ignored." He paused, gathering his courage. "I have grown to love you and my thoughts about us now seem to turn more towards the future, to what may lie ahead. Whatever awaits in the days ahead, I know now that I want to face that future with you."

Fors watched her face carefully, almost warily, looking for the first hint of response. A moment passed, a seeming eternity, then Wenna's eyes filled with tears. In a shaky voice, with just a bit of her characteristic pique, she said, "I sense you have a question to ask me."

He steadied himself, then helped her to stand up. He took her hands, strong and capable, yet graceful and tender. He looked into her eyes, then carefully sank to one knee before her. He gently kissed her hand, and summoning up every bit of his courage, asked the question.

"Wenna, in the warmth of the love we share, I say to you that I desire that our two lives would become one; that together we would walk the road of life, with all the joys and sorrows, and victories and defeats we may encounter along the way. Will you complete my happiness and consent to become my wife?"

Her eyes overflowed, the tears now freely flowing down her cheeks. Fors waited breathlessly. She suddenly became aware of the passage of time, and nodded quickly, and in a voice shaking with happiness, she responded, "Yes!"

Pulling Fors to his feet, she threw her arms around his scarred shoulders. They embraced, holding each other tightly, as if to suspend time and make the moment and eternity. Pulling back, she whispered, "I could conceive of no greater joy and honor than to have you as my husband."

They kissed deeply, with a passion neither had to this point allowed each other to experience. As before, time seemingly went away. The night, the cold of winter, even the house and the buildings of the Eyrie faded away, leaving them alone in their own world.

After a time, they sat down, holding hands and sharing their happiness. Wenna still gasping a bit, said, "We will tell Kreston together."

Unexpectedly, a voice spoke up out of the darkness. "Tell me what?"

Surprised, the two turned and beheld Kreston standing with tousled hair at the entrance to the hallway. Wenna reached out her hand and Kreston took it, as she guided him to a chair. All three sat together. Fors cleared his throat and began.

"Kreston, your mother and I have grown very close these past few months. As we have become familiar, we have discovered that we love each other very much. I have asked her to be my wife."

Wenna continued, "And I have accepted. We have lived alone, you and I, these many years since your father died. But time has passed, and I have found happiness once again." To Fors surprise, she said, "Kreston, you and I have talked about this possibility, and I hope you will accept this happily."

The room went silent as the boy looked from Wenna to Fors, his face devoid of expression. Fors had to remind himself to breathe, as they awaited the boy's reaction. Finally, he spoke. "You have asked to marry my mother?" Fors nodded. Kreston's gaze turned to his mother. "And you have accepted?" Wenna, in turn, also nodded. He turned back to Fors. "Are you now to become my father?"

Fors paused, and replied, "Stephen will always be your father. But I will guide you, teach you...and love you as a father should."

Kreston nodded slightly, then rose and placed his hand on Fors's shoulder. "It sure took you long enough." He then smiled broadly, and all three burst into laughter.

A while later, Fors finally found himself at the door, preparing to go home. As he donned his warm winter outer garments and snowshoes, Wenna and Kreston stood silently watching. Ready to go, Fors, after a moment's hesitation, reached out his hand to Kreston. The boy responded by embracing the Star Man. The boy then stepped back, smiling. It was a different face now. Open, and affectionate. Fors then embraced and kissed Wenna and headed out into the storm. Despite the cold and snow, Fors felt a warmth deep inside that he had not felt in his memory. It took some moments to discover the meaning of that warmth, but the realization brought him great joy.

For the first time, in a very long time, he had a family.

Chapter Eleven

Fors approached the Council House with no small amount of trepidation. It was truly one of those moments when he had absolutely no idea what lay ahead. He realized with a jolt that he was even unaware of what the proper protocol was for entering, no small consideration in a tribe so bound to its traditions. All too soon, he stood before the heavy wooden double doors. He paused momentarily, then with an apparent assurance he most assuredly did not feel, grasped the handle, pulled the door open, and entered. Crossing the threshold, he noted with no small amount of relief that he was actually in an antechamber of sorts, the walls lined with hooks. He removed his wraps and showshoes. As he was so engaged, two women came in, talking animatedly. They quickly removed and hung up their wraps, then without hesitation, walked through the inner doorway. Shrugging inwardly, Fors followed.

The council chamber was large and dominated by two tables, set at right angles to each other. One table sat across one end of the rectangular room and was set with thirteen high-backed chairs. Each chair was surmounted by elaborately carved symbols, marking the seats of the Elders who represented the twelve clans of the Eyrie: Hawk, Eagle, Falcon, Bear, Timber Wolf, Raccoon, Beaver, Fors' own clan Puma, Elk, Orion, Sirius, and Vega. The thirteenth chair sat in the middle, flanked by six seats to its right and left. This chair sat on a slightly higher platform and was decorated by the symbol of the Eyrie itself, a mountain under an arc of twelve stars. Obviously, the seat of the Eyrie Guardian.

At a right angle to the Elder's table, another table, shaped vaguely triangular along which were more chairs, while still ornate in their own right were not as ostentatious. Carved on their backs were the symbols for the House of Healers, the Sentry and Defenders, Master of the Fields, Master of the Storehouse, the Recorder and Historian, Chief Justice, Chief of Legal Council, Master Builder, Master of Commerce and Trade, Chief Educator, Master of Labor Resources, Master of the Treasury, The Star Captain, and several unmarked chairs. This second table narrowed as it flowed away from the Elders, so that everyone could see and be seen by all. beyond the two tables were a collection of benches. The Eyrie Council meetings were open to any member of the tribe. Light dishes, like the ones in the hydroponic caves, were positioned by each window, deflecting sunlight upward onto the whitewashed ceiling, which then reflected the light throughout the room. It was here that the business of the Eyrie got done.

Fors moved to one of the benches in the back of the room and sat down. Several women were in the room, setting out books and containers of water. The first council member to arrive was Retrick. Fors was relieved to see a familiar face, feeling like an intruder in this room. Seeing Fors, Retrick walked over and the two shook hands. The Star Captain offered his congratulations on Fors' engagement, Fors accepting with slight embarrassment. The news had flowed quickly from the House of Healers throughout the tribe. The reaction had been uniformly joyful, inflicting on the Star Man a lot of unaccustomed attention. The two spoken briefly, then Retrick excused himself and took his seat at the table. The room began filling rapidly, the air buzzing with many conversations. Fors knew that most governments consisted of three elements: form, function, and personality. The first two were set in stone, written into laws and custom. The wild card was personality. It was this unpredictable human element that provided the particular dynamics of government. Fors watched carefully, using his experience to identify the ones who would lead, those who would follow, those who would compromise, and those who would stand their ground.

One man caught Fors' attention. He looked to be one of the youngest in the room, but that wasn't what Fors saw. His face was sharp, his eyes reflecting his obvious intelligence. He moved with quick assuredness, as if he always knew where he was going. He pulled out the chair marked with the crest of the Chief of Legal Counsel and sat down. He reached for the papers that had been set before him but in that motion, Fors saw him glance ever so subtly towards the seat of the Eyrie Guardian. For a bare moment, a look of pure, naked ambition flashed across his face. Like a flash of light, it was gone. But in that moment, Fors saw into the man's soul.

The type was familiar enough. In every tribe, in every clan there was always one who sought power as other sought food. The acquisition and wielding of authority was central to their very existence. In Fors experience, they were almost always a danger to their tribe because the only interests they held were their own. The tribe could collapse around them, but as long as they were in charge, nothing else mattered. He sat there calm, seemingly innocuous. But in that moment when he glanced towards the seat of power, Fors saw danger.

The room was full now, all the seats filled. The public chairs were filled as well, as members of the Eyrie had filed in to witness the session. The Council Secretary rose and walked to the back of the room, opening the door that led to the Guardian's offices. After a moment, he pulled the door open fully, turned to the rest of the chamber and in stentorous tones announced,

"Members of the Tribe of the Eyrie, seekers of truth and knowledge. Rise as one and Honor our Guardian!"

With a sound like muted thunder, every person in the room stood. In the sudden silence, Fors heard the measured tread of nailed boots on wood. Fors turned and watched as Jarl, his head high, his face characteristically expressionless, strode up the center aisle. The Guardian mounted the dais and paused beside his chair. Facing the chamber and those within, he said,

"Members of the Tribe of the Eyrie, I thank you. Please be seated."

Once the room was settled, a sense of business enveloped the room. Jarl opened the leather-bound book before him and announced, "This meeting of the Council of the Tribe of the Eyrie is in session. Secretary will read the minutes."

The meeting seemed to swing into an easy rythm as Jarl moved smoothly through the agenda. Fors watched carefully. Jarl gave each item his full attention, even the ones that seemed to Fors to be mundane or pedestrian in nature. At the appropriate moment, the attention shifted to those who sat in front of the council. Starting with the Mistress of the House of Healers and moving along the table, each offered a report covering the activities and issues relevant to their particular responsibilities. To each leader, Jarl gave his full and undivided attention, listening carefully, occasionally asking pointed questions. He also recognized and acknowledged accomplishments, no matter how small or momentous. Fors appreciation of Jarl's abilities, already considerable, grew even more. Through his gestures and words, each person was made to feel equally vital to the proceedings. There was no condescension, no sense that any group was more or less important than the other. It wasn't until the Guardian swung his attention to the Chief of Legal Counsel that Fors senses, sharpened by years of negotiation, caught a subtle shift in Jarl's attitude.

The Secretary intoned, "The Council will now hear the report of the Chief of Legal Counsel."

Jarl's face moved to the sharp-faced young man. Suddenly the Guardian's eyes acquired a glint, his face became somehow harder. Even his voice seemed to acquire an edge as he inquired, "What say you, Marlek?"

Marlek's voice, smooth, oily, and unctuous, grated on Fors. Yet in the midst of his distaste, he recognized the danger of intrigue this man represented. On the surface, he seemed disarmingly pleasant, his inflection pleasant, and at times humorous. Charm, Fors grimly decided, was Marlek's most dangerous tool.

Jarl's questions directed to the Legal Counsel were sharper, more pointed. He was obviously on his guard. Eventually, he moved on to the next report, his body visibly relaxing, his face softening, and the edgy challenge in his voice gone.

After the reports, each one of the Clan Chieftains spoke, giving news of births, deaths, marriages, their needs with regards to food and other items from the Eyrie stores. The Bear Clan's Chief spoke of the Eyrie's growing numbers and suggested that the Tribe needed to secure additional sources of fresh water to stave off the effects of the cyclical droughts that struck the mountains. After some discussion, Jarl ordered the Master Builder to begin plans to construct additional vats to collect snowfall over the winter.

With that, Jarl adjourned the meeting. Once again, the people in the room rose to their feet as the Guardian left the way he had entered. The door closed behind him, and immediately the crowd began to mill around and converse. After a moment, Fors began to move towards the exit.

"Star Man."

Fors turned around, finding himself facing the Council Secretary. "The Guardian asks the honor of your presence in his office."

Fors nodded and gestured for the Secretary to lead the way. The two left the room and passed through the heavy wooded door, cutting off the buzz of voices from the Council Chamber as it was closed. In this room, it was quieter, but the atmosphere was bustling, as men and women hurried back and forth, carrying documents. Fors was led through the maelstrom of activity through an archway and down a hall. The Secretary paused before the door at the end of the hallway and knocked. A muffled voice responded and the Secretary entered, motioning for Fors to follow.

The Guardian's office was large and sparsely furnished. Light came from two small windows and lamps. Jarl sat behind a large desk, beautifully hand-carved and polished. Two men and a woman stood before him, waiting as he read and affixed his signature and seal to a number of documents. Finishing, he handed the documents back to the three waiting staffers, all of whom departed swiftly. Jarl looked up at the Secretary expectantly, who formally announced Fors. Jarl nodded and responded, "Thank you, Bashtar. That will be all for now." Bashtar departed immediately, closing the door behind him.

Jarl motioned Fors to one of the chairs in front of the desk. I thank you for coming, Kinsman. I trust you found your first Council meeting of interest."

Fors shook his head ruefully. "I was utterly unaware of the complexity involved in keeping our tribe functional."

Jarl seemed to smile slightly. "No one person could do this alone. It requires the work of many skilled people, people whose dedication to their work and the Eyrie is total and beyond question. They ensure that when I am presented with a decision, that I have all the facts I need to render it. Without their careful work, I could not do mine." He paused and regarded Fors through slightly narrowed eyes. "Did you observe anything else of interest?"

Fors hesitated. He felt very much the interloper, and unsure if his "observations" would be useful, or even welcome. Jarl, typically, recognized the Star Man's discomfiture. "Speak freely, Fors. I find no benefit in silence."

Fors knew Jarl to be a frank man, so he set aside his reluctance and spoke frankly.

"You have an enemy on the Council, one who seeks your office for himself. My impression is that he is a seeker of power only and not one who places the needs of the Eyrie above his own."

In the ensuing silence, Fors waited apprehensively. After a long moment, Jarl spoke slowly, with emphasis.

"That is a very serious allegation."

Fors felt his shoulders tense.  Setting aside his nervousness, he pressed on.

"Guardian, these many years have I spent studying human beings.  I have sat in halls and tents of great ceremony, and on the torn ground of countless battlefields.  In order to ensure my own survival, I have learned that as much as a person may desire to hide their innermost desires, their words, tone of voice, gestures, even the manner in which they sit and stand can lay naked even the deepest of secrets.  I am bound by oath to defend the Eyrie and its people with my very life, if need be.  When I detect such a threat, I am required by law and custom to report the same."  Jarl's eyes narrowed slightly, but his face remained expressionless.  Of all the people he had known, this man remained a closed book despite Fors' best efforts.

The room went silent, so quiet that Fors could hear the sounds of activity through the heavy wooden door.  As he watched, Fors saw Jarl's face relax slightly.  In a flat tone, he asked, "Whom have you identified as this stone in my boot?"

"Marlek."

Jarl's head tilted slightly.  "Most people think him to be a pleasant, admirable young man; very solitious, always helpful, and extraordinarily intelligent.  As the Chief of Legal Counsel, he is also very, very good at his job.  Those tribesmen who find themselves athwart the law have known him to be a tireless advocate for their rights.  And yet, you see him as a threat."  Jarl leaned forward, nailing Fors with his eyes.  "Why?"

Fors did not hesitate.  "My experience has taught me to see things to which others are blinded.  Expectation and assumption are the enemies of truth.  That is why I always look at people with a fresh set of eyes."

Jarl replied quietly, almost kindly.  "No wonder friendship has been difficult for you." 

The statement hit Fors with the power and accuracy of a Plainsmen's lance.  In the nick of time he choked back the wave of defensive anger that threatened to overwhelm him.  Taking a moment to compose himself, he said, "A friendship based on deception is no friendship."

Jarl leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingertips.  After a long moment, he rose.

"Your honesty is a measure of your trust, for which I am grateful.  But always be mindful that in the political arena of the Eyrie Council, silence is often the more powerful weapon.  Thank you for your time, Kinsman."

Fors rose, saluted, and left.  Closing the heavy door behind him, he stood still for a moment, deep in thought.  Looking up, he saw Marlek speaking with two others.  Despite the targets of his conversation, his eyes were on Fors.  They were eyes of cold calculation.

Chapter 12

The sun rose into a flawless sky.  It was one of those winter days when the air was exquisitely clear, if cold.  Fors, wrapped in his warmest clothes, stood alone at the Eastern Promontory.  He had risen early and had taken the time to clear his head and center his thoughts.  The last few weeks had been filled with activity as the date for the wedding approached.  Fors had been awestruck at the amount of details that required attention.  Fortunately, Wenna, a superbly organized person, navigated the dizzying process with a calmness that soothed everyone around her.  But finally, with Fors' help (or perhaps, he grimly decided, in spite of it) all the work and planning was complete.  And the day had arrived. 

He watched as the rising sun slowly lit the valley floor, feeling completely at peace.  His life would change this day more completely and fundamentally than at any other time since becoming a Star Man.  And yet, he knew he was ready.  He sighed, his breath briefly creating an icy cloud that quickly dissipated in the frigid breeze, reveling in the feelings of joy and elation that flooded his entire being. 

Presently, he turned and carefully made his way down the snow-packed path back to the Eyrie.  He headed down the Main Path, his boots crunching loudly in the quiet air.  As he walked, he systematically reviewed his responsibilities for this day.  Among the people of the Eyrie, the events of life, marriage, birth, and death, were marked by great ceremony and meaning.  Life in the mountains was challenging, even dangerous at times.  Blinding snow and biting cold in the winter, violent storms in summer, surrounded by rugged landscapes populated by animals who saw humans as just another meal.  Every year, the tribe lost members to the hazards of their homeland, and the dangers in the plains and prairies below.  Every occurence and affirmation of life was a victory over the danger.  And victories were always a time for celebration.

Presently, he arrived at his home, or at least his home for a few more hours.  They had already decided that he would move in with Wenna and Kreston, out of consideration for minimizing the disruption to the boy's life.  Fors would formally become a member of the Hawk Clan.  He felt no great heartburn over that choice, knowing that he had no real investment in the Puma Clan, having spent most of his adult life away from the Eyrie.  Once news of that decision had gotten out, Wenna's Hawk Clan kinsmen embraced Fors with a warmth and affection that brought the Star Man to the edge of breaking down.  Now, as he and Nira stood inside the dwelling, he felt its cold emptiness for the last time.  His few possessions already in Wenna's house, the only thing remaining was his ceremonial uniform.  Picking it up, he took one last look around, and closed the heavy wooden door with a sense of finality. 

Upon his arrival at the Council Hall, he found it to be abuzz with activity.  The Council Staff had finished the decorating the day before and now were setting out the food for the Marriage Feast.  One of the staff, seeing Fors, directed him to the antechamber that would serve as his dressing room.  They entered, Nira, picking out a corner where a beam of sunlight warmed the wooden floor.  Fors laid out his things with care.  Wenna, after seeing the battered and somewhat moth-eaten condition of his old set, had insisted that he have a new set made.  After carefully inspecting the new uniform for loose bits of thread, he removed his clothes.  The first thing to go on was a long-sleeved shirt, made of the finest cloth the Eyrie's craftsmen had been able to produce.  Next went the leather trousers, died jet black.  Over the shirt went the leather vest, layered into something more like a shield.  The front was hand-tooled with the symbol for his new clan.  A cape made from beaver fur and trimmed by more black leather was tied to the shoulders of the leather shield.  A silver band, fronted by the tribe's symbol went around his head.  Around his neck he placed the silver chain holding the many-pointed star for which he had worked and sacrificed so much.  And last of all, a pair of leather gloves with gauntlets that covered half of his forearms.  Carefully, he slid the tall leather boots over his feet and legs, careful to do nothing that would mar their mirror-like finish.  Now, all he had to do was wait. 

A firm knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.  He called out, "Enter."  The door opened and Marlek entered the antechamber.  "Good morning, Fors."

Fors nodded, "And good morning to you as well, Counselor."  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nira roll into a ready crouch.  Plainly, there was something in Marlek he did not like.

Marlek extended his hand, which Fors grasped after a bare moment's hesitation.  "I wanted to extend to you personally my best wishes.  A wedding is always a joyous event, especially for one so honored by the people of the Eyrie."

Fors was immediately on guard.  Flattery was a powerful tool.  "I do not seek fame or position; I am but a man who has tried to serve the tribe to my utmost."

Marlek smiled.  "Your humility is misplaced, Star Man.  I have rarely seen the entire tribe so united in their support of any one person.  To not acknowledge such universal affection may infer insult."

Fors had been repeatedly honored as the Eyrie's most skilled ambassador, as Marlek certainly was aware.  Fors felt the old hot anger stirring at Marlek's barb.  He forced the emotion aside, focusing his mind.  Deliberately keeping his voice calm, almost casual, he said, "Humility is never misplaced.  It keeps us from being ruled by our egos."

Marlek tilted his head slightly, acknowledging Fors' point.  "Still, the broad support of the people can be a stepping stone to...shall we say...a higher calling.  Perhaps in your knowledge and experience there lies the wisdom necessary to be a leader."  His face now bore an expression of naked calculation.

Fors recognized the trap.  Marlek was trying to divine the extent of Fors' ambition, and how that drive could conflict with his own.  Knowing the danger in any answer he could give, he replied with the most powerful tool in negotiation:  Dead, stony silence. 

After a long moment, Marlek shrugged.  "Well, no matter.  Again, I wish you and Wenna many years of joy together." 

"I am grateful, Counselor."

The two shook hands and Marlek turned to leave.  Before he reached the door, there was a swift knock and the door was opened by a staffer who announced, "The Eyrie Guardian."  Jarl entered, also clad in his ceremonial clothing.  Upon seeing Marlek, his face tightened and his sharp blue eyes glinted.  Fors knew that look, one that could freeze a man's insides in an instant.  Marlek, however, seemed to be unaffected.  Jarl nodded.  "Counselor."

Marlek bowed slightly.  "Guardian."  With that, the Counselor left the room.

Jarl turned to Fors, a questioning look on his face.  Fors grimaced and shook his head.  Not here, not now.  Jarl nodded and turned to the matter at hand.  Over the next few minutes, he reviewed the sequence of events for the ceremony, over which he would preside.  Once certain that Fors fully understood what was to take place, his voice turned more personal.

"There seems to be a pattern among men of enjoying the pursuit more than the capture.  I have seen too many young men who, after striving mightily to earn the hand of the one they desired, simply stopped trying.  They felt that once they possessed their chosen mate, there was no more battle to wage.  But Kinsman, I must urge you to always keep your desires for Wenna uppermost in your mind.  I know you will never stop loving her, but you must forever communicate that to her.  A woman, regardless of how strong she my seem to be, lives or dies on the love of her husband.  Treasure her always in the same way you treasure her today.  Honor her; respect her; cherish her; and she will respond with all her heart.  It is hard for us men to understand this, but a woman's heart is not only the strongest thing, it is also the most fragile."

Fors nodded. 

Jarl regarded the Star Man momentarily.  "Are you ready?"

Fors raised his head and met those eyes with his own.  "Yes."

"The we shall proceed."  Jarl turned, his own cape flowing smoothly in his wake.  He opened the door, then in a move that surprised Fors, the Guardian stood aside, allowing Fors and Nira to go first.  They left the antechamber into a Council chamber buzzing with expectant conversation.  Fors saw that every seat was filled and people were lined up three deep almost all the way around the room.  The two mounted the Dais and halted.  Nira took a position to the side, sitting attentively.  At an invisible signal, a choir began to sing.  Fors recognized the stirring music as "People of the Mountains," the one song that served as much as any other as the Eyrie's tribal anthem.  From the words flowed the spirit of the tribe, a people forever dedicated to the sanctification of knowledge, and of its companion, wisdom.  It never failed to stir powerful emotions.

After the anthem ended, Jarl stepped forward and spoke.

"Kinsmen, today we have gathered to honor an important and vital arc in the great circle of life.  Before you today a man and woman of the Eyrie will speak the words of the sacred vow of marriage.  When two people discover love, a powerful bond is created, one that has been proven to survive all the tragedies that life might inflict; one that has brought long-lasting joy; one which is strong enough to last a lifetime.

"To perform this rite is for me always a great honor.  For each time a man and woman are thus joined, I know that the Eyrie, through each new union, survives and thrives.  It is particularly satisfying on this occasion.  Today, we have a woman who suffered a terrible tragedy, and yet has opened her heart once again.  And a man who in his early years suffered rejection and fear from his tribe, now will experience the deepest kind of acceptance.

"Today, a new family shall be created.  Because of that creation, today the Eyrie stands a little taller, a little stronger.  We, the people of the Eyrie, stand together in this place to honor, to support, and to celebrate.

"I now call forward Wenna, an upright woman of the Hawk Clan to stand beside the one she has chosen."

As tradition dictated, those in the large room who weren't already standing, now rose.  Drums began to beat, as two ranks of Star Men strode slowly, decorously, up the center aisle, taking positions along each row of seats.  When the last one was in place, they turned as one to face inward.  Two children, each carrying a banner of the Hawk Clan walked up the aisle next.  They mounted the dais and took up positions on the left and right.  The choir began another song, this one celebrating love. 

At that moment, a vision in pure white entered through the rear door and started up the aisle.  Fors was nearly overcome with emotion as he watched Wenna, clad in her flowing bridal gown, came up the aisle.  Before her, looking grown-up in his ceremonial garb, came Kreston, his young-old face wearing a most serious face.  Usually, that position would have been filled by the bride's father, but Wenna's parents had been dead for several years, both victims of one of the rare bouts of illness that struck the tribe.  Today, Kreston would fill that role.  Almost too quickly, the procession reached the dais.  The choir finished the song, and in the silence that enveloped the room, Kreston, his voice ringing with conviction and pride, said:

"Fors of the Puma Clan!  I bring before you the woman who is my mother so that you may be joined together.  I freely present her to you, asking only that you honor her and protect her as has been my honor to do so, and love her, as long as the breath of life lives within you both."

Fors stepped forward, taking Kreston's hand.  "Kreston of the Hawk Clan!  It is with great joy that I accept the hand of your mother in marriage.  And it is with deep humility and gratitude that I receive your approval."

Turning toward his mother, Kreston took her hand and led her upon the dais.  He then joined For's hand with Wenna's, placing his hand on top.  After a moment, he removed his hand and moved to the right of Fors, as they turned towards Jarl.

"Love has called and summoned you both to this place.  Today, your hearts shall become one; your lives shall become one.  That which stood alone shall never feel lonliness again.  And as you both experience the joy of this ceremony, know that the people of the Eyrie celebrate with you as well.

The Guardian turned towards Wenna.  "Wenna of the Hawk Clan, do you choose this man, Fors, to stand beside you, joining his life with yours for as long as you both shall live?

Wenna, her radiant joy apparent even behind her veil, replied, "I do."

Jarl's eyes now found Fors.  Fors of the Puma Clan, do you choose this woman, Wenna, to stand beside you, joining his life with yours for as long as you both shall live?

Fors found his voice, despite the lump in his throat.  "I do."

Jarl then turned to the boy.  Kreston of the Hawk Clan, having heard the choice that has been made, do you accept this union, and this man, Fors, into your house?

Kreston replied in his strongest voice.  "I do!"

Jarl almost cracked a smile at the boy's response.  "Prepare to receive the symbols of your union."

At this, Fors removed the gauntleted gloves, handing them to Kreston.  Jarl turned and picked up a small wooden box, which he then opened, revealing two matched gold rings.  Wenna took the larger one, and Fors the smaller one.  Jarl directed the two to face each other.

Fors gently took the ring and placed it on the third finger of her left hand.  "Wenna, this ring, in its beauty, purity, and eternal existence symbolizes my love for you.  Each day of our lives this will tell of this day;  when I chose you to complete my life."

Wenna then placed the larger ring on the same finger of Fors' hand, struggling a bit to slide it over the rough and gnarled finger.  "Fors, this ring, in its beauty, purity, and eternal existence symbolizes my love for you.  Each day of our lives this will tell of the day when I gave my heart, and my life to you."

The words were part of the rite, the tradition, but to hear them in her voice seemed to transcend the ceremony itself.  Fors felt overwhelmed with joy.

Jarl's was speaking again, but his voice was somehow different.  It wasn't the voice of the Eyrie Guardian.  It was the voice of a loving father.

"Fors and Wenna, today you have committed to each other, joining your hearts and your lives together in love and devotion."  The Guardian's hand suddenly lay upon theirs.  "I, Jarl of the Bear Clan; the Guardian of the Tribe of the Eyrie from the Mountains that smoke do today seal this marriage by the power and authority of my office."  He paused, then unexpectedly, "I wish for you both a lifetime of happiness."  A pause, then...

"Fors, Wenna; you may seal your love with your first kiss."

Carefully, Fors lifted the veil. And taking her face gently in his hands, they kissed.  The rest of the world vanished from their conscious thoughts, until they heard Jarl quietly clear his throat.  They turned and faced the tribe.  Jarl raised his hands above the couple and proclaimed,

"People of the Eyrie!  With honor and joy, I present to you Fors and Wenna!  Let us Celebrate!"

With that, the room erupted.  To cheers and applause, Fors, Wenna and Kreston walked back down the center aisle.  Fors did not intend for it to happen, but his eyes found Marlek, who seemed withdrawn.  He was not looking at the new husband and wife.

He was looking at the crowd.

************

The celebration lasted for several hours.  It seemed that every member of the Eyrie wanted to express their best wishes.  Fors, a perpetual loner, was at first overwhelmed by the crowds and attention.  Gifts were mostly simple and practical, intended to help the new couple establish themselves in their home.  Jarl moved among the celebrants, seemingly at ease and enjoying the general good cheer among the tribe.  It was rare that the entire tribe gathered at once time and place.  The only other time that the tribe gathered as one was during the Great Council Fire on the Night of Choosing.  However, that occasion was solemn and serious, the air thick with ceremony and tradition.  This day was filled with joy, a joy shared by the entire tribe. 

As the early dusk approached, the party finally began to break up, people leaving for their homes.  Finally, the last of the celebrants departed, leaving the Great Hall suddenly silent.  Kreston had already left to spend the next two nights  with Morden and his family.  The new couple thanked the staff who had worked so hard on the reception.  Then they both donned their winter cloaks and started down the Main Path, Nira following silently. 

The sun had ducked beneath the horizon, although the western sky still showed the echoes of its light.  The air was still and very cold, but to Fors, his arm securely around his new wife, the frigid air lay beyond his cares.  They walked slowly, saying little.  At one point, Wenna sighed contentedly, her breath creating a bubble of fog.  Fors tightened his embrace, glancing down.  She looked up, gazing at him.  Her face, despite the dim light was radiant.  Fors slowed to a stop and turned to face her.

"I never dreamed that I could feel so happy."

Her hand, soft and warm, caressed his face.  "It is a joy we both share, my husband."

Her arms went around his neck and they embrace, holding each other and the moment.  After a few minutes, she murmured, "Fors, it is cold."  She raised her face again.  "I want to be warm...with you."

A few minutes later, they arrived at her...their front door, Fors reminded himself.  The entered and closed the heavy door behind them.  A fire  was already burning in the fireplace and the lamps were lit but turned down low.  Nira retired to her spot before the fireplace.  The new husband and wife removed their wraps, which Fors hung on the hooks beside the door. 

When he turned back, Wenna was standing before the fireplace, her face wearing a different look, one of yearning.  In the flickering light, she was transformed into a vision of lovliness that stirred his blood.  He removed his boots and moved towards her.  Their lips met, tenderly, softly.  Their clothing seemed to melt away and when their skin touched, it ignited a fire within them both.

Outside, as the rest of the Eyrie slept, the silver moonlight gently touched a house filled with inutterable joy.

Chapter 13

The snows had retreated, leaving isolated patches of white on shaded hillsides and valleys, stubbornly resisting the warmth of the approaching spring.  They tribe had begun to awaken from it's winter slumbers.  The new coal seam was being mined steadily and each day carts of the black ore streamed back to the Stronghold to be placed in the storage buildings.  It was still too early to plant, but among the numerous small mountain meadows, members of the Eyrie were already turning soil, preparing the fields for sowing.  Within the Clan Circles, repairs to homes and other buildings were underway, patching the inevitable damage inflicted by the harsh winter.  Healers had gone out among the clans and were examining carefully every man, woman, and child, examining carefully the health of the tribe.  Hunters were scouting the hills taking stock of the populations of those animals whose meat would help sustain them.  That information would go back to the Master of the Hunters, who then would make careful decisions on the size of harvest they could take without depleting the herds. 

The tribe was, in a sense, coming back to life and one could sense the cheer as people left their homes and the memory of those long, winter nights behind, sharing with each other while reveling in the season's warmth.
In the Star House, everyone was busy.  Maps were consulted and journeys were planned.  Some Star Men would return to cities already known and continue to search the ruins.  Others would be sent into unexplored areas, searching for new cities. 

Fors was deep into planning his own journey.  He spent hours perusing the maps the Eyrie possessed, planning and estimating the trail to the northwest.  His first stop would have to be the new nation arising along the banks of the as-yet unnamed river where the clans of the Plainsmen and the Southerners were living.  The trip would have to be planned with them as well, although Fors knew that time was against them.  It would be necessary to begin those deliberations as soon as possible.  Nira was restless, seemingly aware that a journey lay ahead of them both.  He spent a lot of time roaming the surrounding area, hunting and sharpening his sinews and senses.

Despite the long days they were both putting in, Fors and Wenna nevertheless made time for each other, an effort especially important given the long absence facing the two.  For the first time, the Star Man found himself feeling reluctant about taking the trails once again.  He knew that Wenna was feeling distressed as well, but knowing the deep sense of duty in her husband, she had not discussed it much.  Kreston was working very hard on his training, readying himself for the Great Council Fire that was fast approaching.  Torin was keeping his own council on the decisions, but Fors knew he had been watching the youngster from time to time.  The boy continually plied Fors with questions that echoed the anxiety he had to have been feeling, the answers to which Fors could not give. 

It was a rare free afternoon and Fors and Kreston were spending the time running the steep hills around the Stronghold.  Fors had taught him the easy, mile-eating jog that enabled Star Men to cover vast amounts of territory without exhausting themselves.  At first, the youngster had struggled mightily.  But over time, his wind improved, and he learned the secrets known to every long-distance runner about how to manage his body's resources.  Fors, on the other hand, was dealing with pain in his joints, pain that made itself felt every time his feet hit a rock wrong.  Wenna had devised a wrap that went around his knees, making them more stable.  Still, the older man managed to keep ahead of the youngster, although it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so. 

They were resting, having completed a long run up Wizard Mountain, so named because of the long thin clouds that continually collected around its peak, resembling a long, grey beard.  Fors was taking advantage of the break to point out edible plants and herbs that dotted the landscape.  They both heard a shout, and turning, the saw a runner approaching.  The message was that Fors had to return to the Eyrie immediately.  The three together headed back to the Stronghold. 

Upon arriving, Fors dispatched Kreston to their home, telling him to await his return.  Still slightly winded, he entered the Star House.  Seeing Torin, he inquired of the summons.  Soundlessly, the Star Captain gestured towards the table.  Fors turned to behold a tall, dark-skinned man whose face was instantly recognized, despite the tinges of gray in his tightly-curled hair. 

"Arskane!"  Fors exclaimed delightedly.  The black man arose from his seat and the two embraced, laughing together. 

"Brother, I detect the breath of fatigue.  Surely, the years have not slowed you down.!"

Fors grinned, "I will not admit to the passage of time, but I am of the opinion that these mountains are getting steeper and taller with each passing year!"

The two embraced briefly, laughing. 

"What brings you into the mountains?"

"I am here at the request of Stahlon, the High Chief of the Plainsmen.  A journey to the far northwest awaits and he is anxious to begin.  But, he won't take a step out of his camp without you."

Fors nodded.  "I am anxious as well.  I am completing my planning here and I should be ready to travel in a week."

Arskane leaned towards Fors.  "Have you received approval from your wife?"

Fors shook his head.  "Who told you?"

Arskane winked.  "No one.  You have the look of a married man."

Fors raised an eyebrow.  "And what look is that?"

Arskane put his hand on the Star Man's shoulder.  "Content."

Fors grinned again.  "And tell me, my brother, are you..."content" as well?"

"As content as a man can be with 6 children."  He turned serious.  "The Gods have smiled upon me with generosity."

Fors smiled.  "Good news indeed."  He stood up.  "Let me show you my home...and my family."

As they were about to leave, Torin gestured minutely and Fors stepped closer.  "While you're with him, find out how he got here."  Fors looked up, confused.  "He just walked into the Main Circle.  He got all the way up here without being seen by any of the Sentries or Defender Patrols."

"Arskane is a man of intelligence and wile.  His trail skills are without peer."

"And if he has found a weakness in the Stronghold's perimeter, we need to know what that is."  Torin's face was serious.  Fors nodded and left the Star House.

The two old friends walked across the Main Circle and started down the Main Path, talking animatedly.  Arskane was full of news of his family, as well as ideas for their journey.  Fors, for his part, spoke of the events leading up to his marriage.  At one point, the big southerner put his long arm around Fors' shoulders.  "I cannot tell you how happy I am for you.  When a man discovers love, it changes him for the better.  For you, I can see that you are no longer the lonely man I once knew."

A few minutes later, the arrived at the hospital.  On their walk down, Arskane had drawn the odd looks of many of Fors' people, almost none of whom had ever seen a dark-skinned man.  It was a pleasant day and the door was standing open.  The two entered, taking a moment for their eyes to adjust from the bright spring sunshine outside.  One of the Healer Novices looked up and smiled.  "Welcome, Fors!  Wenna is treating a miner, but I will tell her you are here."  With a curious glance at Fors' companion, she hurried down the hallway.  A few minutes later, Wenna appeared, gently escorting a young man covered in coal dust with his arm in a sling.  They stopped, Wenna obviously giving the man instructions for his recovery.  He spoke his thanks and left.  Wenna, seeing Fors, smiled brightly and came nearer. 

"Husband, I am happy to see you!"

Fors, resisting the urge to kiss her, smiled broadly as well.  "And I, you, my wife."  Turning to his companion, he said, "This is Arskane, my brother."

Arskane bowed deeply and said solemnly, "It is an honor, My Lady."

Wenna reached out a took both the big man's hands.  "The honor is mine, Arskane.  Fors has told me of the many times you saved his life.  Were it not for you, I would never have rediscovered the joy I now feel."

"Perhaps your husband has not told you, but he has kept me from death at least as many times."

Wenna smiled, "No he has not, but that is of no surprise."  She favored Fors with her smile.  "I have come to know my husband as a man of great nobility."

Fors could feel his face blushing.  Seeing his discomforture, Wenna asked, "Arskane, will you do us the honor of breaking bread with us this night?"

Arskane replied gravely, "I do not wish to intrude.  I know the hour is already late."

Wenna smiled gently.  "You are the brother of my husband.  Our home is also yours."

Arskane returned her gentle smile.  "Then, I accept."

*****

Hours later, Arskane pushed his chair back, sighing contentedly.  "A feast, My Lady, fit for Kings and Chieftains."

Wenna chuckled as she and Fors cleared the table.  "You're flattery is skillful -- and most welcome."  Walking behind Arskane, she paused and leaned over.  "And as I have told you repeatedly, my name is Wenna."

Arskane grinned.  "Thank you...Wenna."

Kreston had been mostly silent during the meal, regarding their visitor with a sense of awe, made deeper as he listened to the two men as they recalled their adventures.  For the boy, it was his first exposure to the world outside the Eyrie and he found it almost overwhelming.  Arskane had tried to gently engage Kreston in conversation, but the youngster tended to demonstrate a tied tongue. 

The moved to the living room by the fireplace and continued to talk.  Wenna and Kreston, begging fatigue, bade the two men good night.

They sat in silence for a time.  The door was open, allowing the evening breeze to drift in.  Outside, crickets began their song, the sound adding a sense of peace to the moment.  At that moment, Nira padded in, having been gone most of the day.  He purred his welcome at Fors, then favored Arskane with a lick of his rough tongue.  Arskane smiled and briefly scratched behind the cat's ears.

After a few moments Arskane broke the silence. "Brother, you have been blessed by this family."

Fors nodded.  "I always thought I would do best on my own, but these past few months have shown that over the years of my life, I have only been half a man."

There was a short pause, then Arskane said.  "I think I caused your Star Captain some small consternation."

Fors cleared his throat.  "These many years, our defenses have kept us safe, and yet you came through them unseen.  Torin is concerned that the path you took could also be a route of invasion for the Beast Things."

"My friend, your tribe's isolation has created a false sense of invulnerability.  It is something that happens when defenses are untested.  Tomorrow, we should tour your perimeter with fresh eyes."

Fors nodded.  Soon after, they both retired.  Fors lay in bed next to his sleeping wife, but sleep came with difficulty as he worried about the Eyrie's safety.

The next morning, Fors and Arskane, along with the Master of Defenders and Sentries Darvid, and Torin, retraced the Southerner's trek up the mountain.  As they climbed, Arskane pointed out with accuracy the position of the sentries, based on trail signs like worn rocks, stunted vegetation, and places where the terrain dictated obvious points of observation.  As mid-day approached, Arskane showed how the smoke from cooking fires revealed other sentry locations.  He demonstrated how he could make his way for long distances, using terrain and vegetation for cover, and also how he was able to disguise his trail.  It was late afternoon when the party, dusty and tired from the climb, returned to the Eyrie.  The mountaineers wore glum looks, having been showed vulnerabilities of which they had not been aware. 

They convened in the Star House for the evening meal.  Arskane held everyone's attention as he presented his recommendations for strengthening the tribe's defenses.  Darvid was especially enthusiastic about the idea of testing the Stronghold's defenses on a regular basis.  The four then went to Jarl's home to brief the Eyrie leader on what they had discovered.  Jarl took it all in and after some contemplation, noted, "It is plain that complacency has afflicted us all, especially myself.  We are fortunate that this was discovered by a friend."

He thanked Arskane with great dignity, then the four left the Guardian.  Darvid immediately called his commanders to a late meeting to begin immediately the task of correcting the deficiencies.  Fors and Arskane, after bidding Torin goodnight, returned to Fors' house.  They spent the evening planning the upcoming trip, Kreston listening in awestruck silence. 

After several hours, Arskane leaned back in his chair.  "So, my brother, you will be ready to take the trail within a week?

Fors nodded.  "Yes.  The Great Council Fire is in three days.  It is the Night of Choosing for our tribe and I must be there."

Arskane thought for a moment.  "Then I will leave on the morrow and alert the others.  We should be able to depart the day after you arrive at the Plains camp.  The Plainsmen have contributed 10 horses, and my people will provide 6 carts to carry our supplies.  I think that should be suff--"

A knock at the door startled Arskane into silence.  Fors rose and opened the door, surprised to find Torin standing there.  He ushered the Star Captain inside and invited him to sit, which he did.  Wenna, hearing his arrival came into the room.

"Fors, forgive me for intruding into your home.  I know the hour is late, but I have been thinking about this journey and there is one element I feel we have overlooked."

Fors and Arskane glanced at each other.  The Southerner asked, "What element is that?"

"This will be the longest journey ever undertaken by the Star House, and I am concerned about the unknown dangers along this trail.  I am of the opinion that along with a Defender, perhaps a Healer should also accompany you."

Silence filled the room.  Fors stole a glance at his wife, who wore a look of interest.  Suddenly, the truth behind the Star Captain's statement dawned upon him.  Turning to the Star Captain, he inquired, "Did you have someone particular in mind?"

Torin gazed back in mock gravity.  "I thought you might have a suggestion."

Fors turned to his wife.  "Wenna, do you know of a Healer sufficiently experienced and resourceful who is willing to undertake a journey of this measure?"

Wenna appeared to consider the question.  "Yes, I think I do."  She looked at Fors with mock reproval.  "And so do you."  She rose, placing her fingertips on the table's surface as if testing it.  "I was also thinking what a tremendous opportunity this would be for a Star Novice.  What better way to learn the trails than by taking them?"

Torin sighed, resting his chin in his left hand, eyeing Wenna carefully.  Turning to Fors, he said, "She is a wiley one, to be sure."

Fors responded only by holding up his left hand, the still-shiny marriage ring catching the lamp light.  The Star Captain rose.  "Well, I will render my final decision after the Night of Choosing.  No sense rushing into it."  He moved towards the door, spoke his farewells, and left.  Fors, Arskane, and Wenna stood silently, looking at each other.

Then all three burst out in laughter.

Chapter 14

The sun was gone, it's last light fading quickly in the west.  Throughout the Eyrie, the atmosphere was electric.  At the appointed time, the great drums began their slow, rhythmic beat and the people of the Eyrie left their homes and made their way to the Ring of Ceremony, where a great bonfire had been lit.  They gathered around the edge, clans mingled together as one tribe.  The silence was broken only by the crackling of the flames and a few, short, whispered conversations.  Fors stood with the other members of the Star House on the north side of the ring.  Looking to his left, he could see Wenna and Kreston standing together. 

Just the day before, he had watched as Kreston stood before Torin, placing his sword, knife, bows, and arrows -- all made by his own hand according to the Law-- before the Star Captain for final inspection.  Other hopefuls had made similar presentiments as well.  But unlike them, Kreston had stood tall, his carriage fairly glowing with pride and confidence.  Even considering his own prejudice, Fors recognized the boy's impressive accomplishments over the preceding months.  He had steadfastly refused to allow himself to hope, but it was plain to all who had watched the youngster, that the traditions of the Star ran thick in his blood.

Still, the Star Man knew through the bitterness of his own experience that the results of the Night of Choosing were far from being foregone conclusions.  There would be some, Fors grimly acknowledged, whose names would not be called; who would leave this gathering devastated by disappointment.

Fors glanced around.  The Ring of Ceremony was a bowl-shaped geologic anomaly, with steeply-sloped sides that over the decades had been worn into places for people to sit or stand.  It was open on one end, facing the valley that lay at the foot of the sheer drop of the southern escarpment.  It was large enough to hold nearly the whole tribe, making it the perfect place to gather on this night of solemn ceremony.

Presently, the flow of people into the Ring ebbed and stopped.  All who could gather, save those on watch, were present.  An unknown signal was given, and the drummers shifted from the slow, steady beat of The Call to a series of rapid strokes which abruptly stopped.  A small chorus began singing the Eyrie's anthem, "Tribe of the Mountains."  It was a stirring piece of music, which spoke of how the people of the Eyrie were linked both physically and spiritually to the great peaks and beautiful valleys that defined their homeland.  It also described the tribe's commitment to knowledge and peace, and the desire that all mankind would once again thrive together.  Though he was far from being a singer, the anthem never failed to spark strong emotions in Fors' heart.  In the final chorus, the entire tribe joined in, raising their voices to the stars.

As always, as the song ended, Fors closed his eyes, his delicate ears following the dying echoes as the sound of their voices flowed into the valley below.  Jarl stepped forward, and after a moment of silence, spoke.

"People of the Eyrie, we have gathered this night, as we have gathered on similar nights throughout our history, the Twelve Clans together as one tribe; strong, united, and free.  Two and a half centuries ago, a collection of scientists, engineers, and space-farers numbering less than 100, gathered here, to glean the knowledge required to live on other worlds.  But on a dark day, the world they had known was destroyed.  Their homes, their families, taken from them in a matter of hours.  But despite the fear they must have felt; despite the sadness in their hearts, they chose to survive.  Because of their courage and valor, this Tribe of the Eyrie survived the dark days after the war; and in the decades since, we have grown strong. 

"We are a principaled people, guided not by lust for power or blood, but by the two things we hold most sacred:  Knowledge and Wisdom.  And above all, Peace.

"This night, we celebrate our history and heritage.  We salute the courage of our ancestors, and re-commit ourselves to those ideals that will define our future.  But also on this night, we act to preserve that future by choosing those who have been tested and found worthy to carry forward the traditions of those groups that work daily to ensure that not only will we survive, but flourish as well.  Join with me in the Oath of Allegiance!"

With a sound like muted thunder, the entire tribe rose to their feet and led by Jarl, began to speak:

"I pledge my allegiance to the Tribe of the Eyrie; to the principals upon which it stands.  Knowlege will I honor; Peace will I offer.  To my Kinsman do I commit my life, my blood, and my sacred honor.  Forever will we stand united in strength, for as long as the mountains stand around us, in liberty, in justice, and in freedom."

Following Jarl's direction, the tribe returned to their seats.  Jarl began to talk about the tribe's current status, recounting the results of the annual tribal accounting that had been done in the spring.  At one point, Jarl's voice rose almost majestically.  "Kinsman, as you know, our tribe began with less than 100.  But as the result of this year's accounting, I am elated to report to you that for the first time in our history, the population of the Eyrie has surpassed 5,000 people!"

After a moment of stunned silence, the circle erupted in a long, sustained cheer.  Jarl, seemed to enjoy the moment, allowing it go on for several minutes.  When the sound faded, Jarl continued. 

"The growth of the tribe is joyful news.  But let that joy be tempered with the knowledge that now more than ever the need for the food, shelter, clothing, and medicines that sustain us is greater than ever before.  We must work ever harder in the short summer months to produce and craft enough to last through the long, unforgiving winter.  It is good to celebrate, but let us never waver in our efforts to do that which must be done."

With that, Jarl stepped back and each one of the members of the Tribal Council came forward reporting on those items relevent to their offices.  When Torin's turn came, he spoke about the journeys of the previous year, rejoicing in the fact that for the first time in nearly 12 years, all the Star Men who had been dispatched had returned, safe and sound.  He spoke about the discovery of the medicine cache and what that could mean to the future health of the tribe.  In conclusion, he noted that the number of violent encounters with the Beast Things continued to decline to its lowest level in three decades, postulating the hope that the lowlands were becoming safer for travel.

When the Council reports concluded, Jarl honored members of the tribe for significant accomplishments and contributions.  Among the children, the accomplished scholars were called forward and recognized, as well as teachers who had distinguished themselves.  Jarl then paid tribute to the memory of those who had passed from life in the past year, concluding with a moment of silence.

Then came the moment that all had awaited with great anticipation.  One by one, each member of the Council came forward and handed a scroll to Jarl.  As the Guardian read the names, young adults came forward, each one bursting with excitement and pride.  The House of Healers chose 6 novices, the Sentry and Defenders named 11, the House of Laws selected 7 extraordinarily bright students.  One by one, they came forward, taking their first steps on the path of their future, their excitement tempered by the very real knowledge that this path would be long and tortuous.  And some of them would not reach its destination.

Finally, Torin stepped forward, handing his scroll to Jarl.  As he had with the others, he unbound the ribbon and rolled it open.  Fors fervently hoped that Kreston would not have to wait long.  And he didn't.  Jarl cleared his throat and announced the first name of the Star Novices.

"From the Hawk Clan, Kreston!"

The young man rose and with dignity strode across  the circle, taking his place before the Guardian.  Fors, his own heart pounding with excitement, looked over to Wenna.  He could see reflected in the firelight her tears of joy.  One by one, the other three selectees came forward and stood shoulder-to-shoulder.  Fors, along with three other Star Men, then stepped forward and placed around the necks of the new novices a star of polished brass and its leather string.  If all went well, about three years hence, they would receive the silver star and heavy chain of a Star Man.  Fors hung the star on Kreston's neck, then offered the warrior's clasp and his congratulations.  Kreston looked deep into the eyes of the older man, and then replied softly...

"Thank you...Father."

Chapter 15

Two days later, an early morning, Fors, along with Wenna and Kreston, stood in the Star House.  Outside in the pre-dawn gloom lay their packs, loaded with the bare essentials they would need for their journey.  Across the room, their Defender, Boros of the Badger Clan, waited patiently.  Torin gave Fors his final briefing, also sharing kind words with Wenna.  For Star Novice Kreston, he had stern words, reminding the young man of his inexperience and the danger of pride; ordering him to pay close attention to everything that happened.  "Remember above all that a Star Man represents every man, women, and child of the Eyrie.  Your speech, behavior, and habits must therefore be always beyond reproach for their judgement of you will be also their judgement of this tribe.  Do you understand?"

Kreston replied, "Yes Sir."  The Star Captain looked hard into the Novice's eyes, then turned back to Fors.  "Travel well, Star Man.  May the trail you walk be rich with knowledge and free of danger.  We will await your return with hope."

Fors completed the ritual parting:  "I go forth from the Eyrie in peace, seeking knowledge and offering brotherhood with all whom I meet."

Fors turned and left the Star House, followed by the other three.  Seemingly out of nowhere, Nira appeared, announcing his arrival with a soft meow.  Silently, they donned their packs.  Fors slipped the Star Pouch over his neck, and as he had done a hundred times before, turned away from the Stronghold for the open lands beyond. 

He led them down the trail from the West Ridge, winding around to the base of the Southern Escarpment.  There would be some tough hiking ahead, as they left the mountains.  There was no conversation, since each had been thoroughly briefed on the route and destination.  At one point though, Fors looked back.  Kreston was immediately behind, a sober expression on his face.  Wenna followed her son, her face demonstrating deep thought.  Bringing up the rear, Boros strode easily, his head on a swivel as he scanned the surrounding area.  A man reputed to be courageous, deliberate, and highly intelligent, he was also experienced.  This would be his sixth journey out of the mountains.  Catching Fors' eye, he nodded briefly.  The way was safe.

Thus, the hours passed.  The sun cleared the horizon and began its climb towards zenith.  Towards late morning, they cleared the last of the foothills.  Once in the flat lowlands, Fors increased the pace.  Nira began scouting, gliding left and right of their path.  Fors caught a brief flash of emotion from the big cat.  He too felt the excitement of the journey.

Presently, they arrived at a familiar grove of trees.  Fors called a rest.  The day had not been warm enough to require much drinking water, but they topped off their canteens, anyway.  Fors sat down beside Kreston, taking a map out of the Star Pouch.  Opening it, he said, "See if you can find our position."

Kreston perused the map, glancing up at his surroundings.  He put a finger on the map and announced, "We are here."

"What direction to we take now?"

Deftly using his fingers as he had been taught, he measured the sun angle, matching it to the chart on the map.  Fors watched as he identified the required three landmarks, then looking around, pointed just north of west.  "We should go this direction until we reach the river on the other side of the Glentown ruins.  Then we follow the river north to the intact bridge."  He looked expectantly at Fors.

Fors nodded.  "What hazards do you see that await us?"

"Spring in the lowlands is a time of sudden and violent storms.  Also, there are remains of farms along our path where wild pigs and cattle abound.  From those herds we can gain food, but the pigs especially are territorial and will attack without warning."

Fors nodded in approval.  "Well done.  I want you to take the lead when we leave here.  Remember to stop for the mid-day meal, and at least one rest break before we camp for the night."

"Yes, Father."  Kreston was trying hard to be nonchalant, but was not succeeding.  Fors wasn't worried.  He had made this trek enough times that the route was as familiar as the Eyrie itself.  If Kreston led them astray, he would know instantly.  Returning the map to the Star Pouch, he rose and moved to Wenna and knelt down.  "How are you doing?" he asked.

Her smile was genuine, if a bit taut.  "It is surprising how unsettling the loss of familiar surroundings can be."

Fors smiled.  "Try not to think of the familiar you leave behind, but rather the adventure of the unknown that lies ahead."

She looked down.  "I'm sorry.  I should be more...adventurous, I guess."

Fors gently placed his hand on her shoulder.  "I realize this is all new to you.  But know that, over time, even the new can become familiar.  How are your feet?"  Wenna was breaking in a new pair of trail boots, a process that Fors knew from experience could be exquisitely painful.

Her voice became more upbeat.  "Actually quite good.  The socks have helped a lot."

"Good!  Let me know if you start to feel pain.  To walk without treatment will only make things worse."

Fors rose, retrieving the Star Pouch.  The others got up as well, and once again they resumed their march, this time with Kreston in the lead.

It was a pleasant day, and the hours passed comfortably.  Nira came and went, scouting the way ahead.  He, too, knew this path well.  After stopping for the mid-day meal, they continued on their way.  Late in the afternoon, they approached the ruins of a small community, a place Fors had identified as Glentown.  Normally, he would have passed around its perimeter, having explored the place thoroughly many years ago.  But for Wenna and Kreston, this was their first exposure to the flotsam of the Old Ones' once mighty civilization.  In deference to them, Fors allowed Kreston to lead them into the town, walking along the broken surface of its main street.  Surreptitiously, the Star Man strung his bow, not wishing to tempt fate. 

They slowed almost to a crawl.  Kreston and Wenna looked with awe at the broken structures, now overgrown with plants and trees.  Turning suddenly, Kreston stopped at the front of what had once been a small store, it's glass windows long since broken out.  He peered into the darkness, as if trying to divine secrets that had long since died with the inhabitants.  The Novice moved to the doors and carefully entered.  Fors watched carefully as Kreston's eyes swept the interior.  Inside were orderly rows of shelves that had once held veritable treasures.  Suddenly, Fors heard from the boy a sudden intake of breath.  On a countertop, lying on its side was a human skull.  Fors remained quiet, allowing Kreston to absorb his first real contact with the past.  Wenna moved past them.  Removing a pair of gloves from her pack, she picked up the skull, examining it carefully. 

Fors moved beside her, curious about her reaction.  After a moment, she muttered, "Slightly smaller than ours."  She turned it over in her hands, peering inside.  "The brain case seems different."  Placing the artifact gently back on the countertop, she concluded, "They were our past, but we are obviously different people now."

Fors considered her words.  While Star Men had made thousands of journeys through these lowlands, the Eyrie had never thought to send any of its scientists along, thus this critical information would have remained undiscovered. 

"We should move on."  Kreston's voice echoed through the store.  Fors turned in his direction.  Kreston's face bore a questioning look.  Fors answered the question.

"You are the leader.  Give the command."

Kreston held his head high, his eyes steady.  In a voice of decision and finality, he announced, "Let's go."

Regaining the street, they continued their march.  They paused at a few other structures, Wenna spending the most time in what must have been a small hospital or clinic.  Inside, she touched, almost reverently pieces of equipment, technology lost to the ages.  In one metal cabinet that hissed when it opened, she discovered stacks of dark-colored stiff squares.  Carefully drawing one out, she held it up to the light.  Her voice full of wonder, she whispered, "It is a picture...of a person's insides!"  She pointed to parts of the image for Fors' benefit.  "Ribs, spine, hip bones..."  She returned the film back to its container.  "What healing we could do with devices such as these," she said somberly, shaking her head.  Her eyes met her husband's.  "Why would the Old Ones throw away such miracles as this?"

Fors took her hands in his.  "That is the answer we seek;  it is why we come here."

She looked around the clinic room with all of its miracle machines, and murmured, "I think I finally understand."

A few hours later, they reached the bank of the great river.  As planned, they turned north, following the waterway.  They hadn't gone far before discovering a surprise.  One of the great bridges had fallen into the river, spilling the rusted vehicles that had blocked its roadway into the muddy waters.  The ends of the bridge were no longer connected to the roads, but were now dug into the dirt banks on either side.  Fors stood, considering their options.  The way was now traversable, the only question was how stable the bridge was.  There was risk, but if they chose to cross here, they could cut hours from their journey.

Boros approached and stood next to Fors, who asked, "What do you think?"

"If it were just you and I, I'd say yes.  But with your wife and son?"  He shook his head.  "To cross that bridge will require a strong heart and a clear head.  I just don't know our companions well enough to judge them.  We could ask if they are willing to take the risk, but are they experienced enough to properly judge that risk?"

Fors nodded.  "Still, the best way to build courage is to face risk."  He turned to Wenna and Kreston.  "We can cross this bridge and reduce our journey by many hours.  However, I cannot say how stable the bridge is.  We could cross successfully, or our weight and movement could cause the bridge to pivot and fall into the river, along with us."

Wenna looked at the bridge, chewing her lip.  Kreston took a few steps away and stood for a few moments, then turned and said, "I think we should cross."

Fors looked at Wenna, who shrugged and nodded.  "This is not my area of expertise.  Here, I must trust the wits of my companions."

With the question decided, under Fors direction, each took from their packs the coil of rope.  In moments, they were all linked together.  Then carefully, they worked their way down the muddy bank.  Fors, in the lead, reached the edge of the bridge first.  Cautiously, he placed his foot on the steel and transferred his weight.  It seemed solid enough.  Nira moved past Fors cautiously, then flashed across the bridge with her lightning speed.  He moved forward, the rest following his lead.  Fors kept his hand on the side of the bridge, feeling for the first telltale vibrations that would indicate the shifting of the bridge.  Slowly they moved forward, testing with each step.  Below, the brown waters ran past, gurgling as they washed over the vehicles in the river.  The good thing was the wrecks had gone into the river upstream from the bridge, forming a sort of barrier which slowed the water slightly.  They were now almost halfway across and the span seemed solid.  Fors increased the pace, hoping to get them across quicker.  Just past the midpoint, the bridge had bent slightly, putting part of the roadway under the roiling waters.  Fors moved to the higher railing, and moved them all past the submerged spot.  With that behind them, they returned to the road surface.  Now, the bridge sloped upwards towards the other side.  Their confidence buoyed by the success so far, they moved quickly.  Fors looked ahead, estimating the distance remaining.  They were almost there.  Then, the thing Fors dreaded the most, began.  He felt a slight vibration in the handrail, and the road surface began to flex slightly.  Instantly, he reacted.  Turning his head, he roared, "RUN!"

Now they were sprinting up the road surface.  The flexing began to get worse, making their footing more difficult.  Nira, safe on the riverbank, yowled his concern.  Finally, Fors gained the mud bank that marked the edge of the bridge.  Quickly behind came Wenna, then Kreston.  But as Boros approached, the bridge gave a massive shudder and began to roll sideways.  Fors dived for Kreston's end of the rope and dug his heels into the shifting surface.  Acting on instinct, the other two took hold and together, they all pulled hard.  The bridge had rolled almost sideways, and then paused.  With the rails and crossbars under his feet, Boros began climbing with a will.  Miraculously, just as his feet left the surface of the bridge, it made one final twist and with a loud roar, collapsed into the river.

Fors grasped the Defender's arm.  "Are you injured?"

With his face, still grim and slightly pale, Boros shook his head, and said, "We need to get up the bank.  The bridge may have been holding the mud in place!"

They turned as one and made a mad scramble up the side, finally reaching the top.  They tumbled over a low stone wall and collapsed on the other side, out of breath.  Wenna was the first to move, going to each to check for injury.  As she came to Fors, she leaned close and grimly whispered, "Next time, we walk around."

Fors nodded.  Miraculously, they had survived without injury.  Even Boros with the wild ride on the collapsing bridge had come through with minor scratches.

They rested awhile, then stowed the ropes away.  Fors took his map out and began to peruse it.  He would be taking them through unfamiliar country at this point.  He located the spot where they were and carefully plotted the direction they should travel.  Getting everyone up, he led the way as they resumed their march.

Later, as the sun began to approach the horizon, they approached the ruins  of a farm.  The barn was a pile of rotting wood, but the house, made of stone, seemed to be almost intact.  Fors entered the building carefully.  The upper floors were intact, although the stairs were long gone.  In one large room, there was a fireplace.  The room had no windows and had two doorways that could be barricaded and defended.  Wenna went to work immediately, gathering wood and piling it in the fireplace.  In no time at all, a cheery fire was burning.  As the heat and smoke went up the chimney, they could hear the flutter of birds abandoning their now inhospitable home.  Nira was already on her hunt, so Fors and Kreston gathered their bows and set out to hunt dinner.  They hadn't gone far before sighting a small herd of deer.  Kreston drew an arrow from his quiver, set it on the bowstring, and let fly.  The arrow flashed through the dusk and found its mark, a large doe.  Fors watched as the youngster gutted and cleaned the animal.  Then, together, they carried the carcass back to the farmhouse.  Upon arrival, all four fell to preparing the meat for cooking.  A short time later, the delicious smell of roasting venison filled the room.  As Fors turned the spit, Boros stood in the doorway, idly looking out across the fields.  Kreston was perusing the map with Wenna looking over his shoulder.  It was a quiet evening, with only the crickets breaking the silence.  Presently, Nira returned looking satisfied.  With a heavy sigh, he curled up near the door.

After eating, they cleaned up.  The remains of the deer was taken outside and left a good distance from the house.  Then, with everyone inside, they barricaded both doors, using some of the larger pieces of wood from the barn and large stones.  As the fire burned low, their eyes grew heavy and one by one, they drifted off to sleep.  Sometime during the night, a loud animal scream sounded from the darkness, waking Fors.  Listening carefully, he identified the sounds of combat as two unseen predators fought over the remains of the deer.  Nira had sprang from his sleep and was poised before the barricade, his ears at full attention, and his fur standing straight along his back.  Fors moved to the door and peered into the darkness.  His night vision could see details invisible to others, and he was able to see a small group of coyotes, their dog-like bodies gathered around the deer carcass.  He watched carefully, but they showed no inclination to approach the house.  After awhile, the pack moved off, their howls and barks marking their retreat.  Satisfied, he layed back down.  A hand touched his arm.  He turned to see Wenna looking at him questioningly.  He smiled and shook his head.  Within moments, he was asleep.

Sometime later, it began to rain, a slow drizzle.  Dawn came late, as the sun's subdued light turned the night into a gray, gloomy day.  Wenna and Nira had gone prospecting, returning with a wild hen and a clutch of eggs.  After breakfast, they packed up and left the farm continuing to the north. 

Two days later, they finally reached the outer boundaries of the Plains territory.  They were crossing a small stream when Nira flashed up, his eyes alight with warning.  Waving to the others, they took shelter among some rocks at the stream's bend.  Crouched down, Fors closed his eyes and concentrated.  He heard the thrumming of multiple hoofbeats.  Horsemen were approaching.  Silently, he cautioned the others.  Looking carefully, he saw three Plainsmen as they came out of the treeline.  They rode up to the stream bank and stopped.  One carefully scanned the area.  The Plainsmen were skilled trackers, and Fors had not been careful at hiding their trail.  Tense, he continued to watch. 

Spurring his horse, the Plainsmen approached the stream opposite of the place Fors and his party had entered it.  He leaned forward, frowning as he inspected the area.  He seemed to find something that satisfied his curiosity.  Leaning back, he shouted, "Fors of the Tribe of the Eyrie!  Welcome!"

Chapter 16

Fors rose from behind the rocks, the others rising as well. He placed his closed fists on his chest, then spreading his arms, he opened his hands in the traditional greeting, which the Plainsmen returned. As they cantered over, Fors said, "Sellen, your trail skills are sharper than ever."

Sellen was tall and broad-shouldered. His hair, worn long as a sign of free birth, was held out of his eyes by a leather band displaying his clan symbol. Leather chaps, worn smooth and shiny by hours of riding, covered his legs down to his boots. He wore a leather vest over a shirt of woven cloth. The others were similarly dressed, including the two dark-skinned southerners. Grinning broadly, he said, "I read trails the way you seem to read the minds of men." Leaning down, he offered his hand to Fors, who clasped it warmly. Turning, Sellen whistled towards the trees. One more Plainsman came forward, leading four riderless horses.

For Fors and Boros who were veterans of the lowlands, horses were familiar. To Wenna and Kreston, they seemed huge. Sellen, sensing their discomfort, helped them up and steadied them. Then, swinging effortlessly back on his own mount, he led the procession back towards the trees. They rode through the forest for a time, and then debouched onto a sunlit prairie. On the horizon, Fors could see the smoke from many fires, the sure sign they were approaching a sizeable village. As they came closer, Fors saw sure signs of civilization. Cultivated fields, small herds of grazing horses, all connected by a series of well-worn paths. Men and women were working in the fields, both dark and light-skinned. They crested one last small ridge and the panorama of huts and skin tents was revealed.  It had only been a season since Fors last visit, yet the number of dwellings had grown.  And people.  Everywhere, there were people.  

After a seemingly interminable ride, they arrived at the complex of structures that served as the center of government.  Dismounting, Fors heard a familiar voice call out.  Turning, he greeted Arskane.  

“Brother, I am glad your journey was a safe one.”  

For the rest of that day, Fors met in council with the Plainsmen and Southerners.  With care, they melded their separate ideas into a unified plan.  After a restful sleep, the morning’s first light saw the travelers cinching packs and attaching carts to the ponies.  Finally, they were ready to go.  Sellen, in his role as Trail Captain, waved his arm and the group moved out at a brisk pace.

They traveled for several days without incident, proceeding in a generally northwest direction.  By agreement, they stayed clear of ruins because they had a long way to go and time was of the essence.  They journeyed through endless prairie.  The land was covered mostly by tall grass, although the landscape was dotted here and there with grains that had grown wild from previously tilled fields.  Game was plenty enough to fill their pots, though rivers and streams were few, forcing them to manage their water supply.  On they rode, a main column of the supply horses and carts with groups of outriders on both sides scouting the terrain.  The terrain was mostly flat and the rivers that had to be crossed were easily forded.  The carts had been built to be watertight, so when the horses and ponies waded into the waters, the carts floated along behind them, like boats.

As the days wore on, the weather grew warmer and more humid.  On the 9^th day, the expedition encountered heavy thunderstorms.  Fierce lightning bolts split nearby trees and hail poured out of the sky, injuring a few riders.  However, Wenna’s treatment was swift and effective, and they were soon on the mend.  While they were stopped, though, a curious event occurred.  The air, so recently stormy grew very quiet, the sky taking on a greenish hue.  To the north, a large cloud began to rotate and out of the bottom came a funnel-shaped cloud.  It roared along the ground for a mile or so before lifting back into the sky.  Later, as they approached that area, they saw that the ground had been scoured and swept clear.  Trees lay twisted and broken along the storm’s path.  The mountaineers were certainly no stranger to violent storms, but this was something utterly outside their experience and it frightened them.

In the third week of the journey, they came upon the junction of two great rivers, one flowing south, the other west.  A large city lay right at the junction, but luck was with them and they found two intact bridges over which they carefully crossed.  The westward-flowing river must have been a transportation system of great commerce, since several very large ruined cities lay along its shores.  However tempting it was for the Eyrie contingent to explore, Fors knew that the calendar was against them.  To avoid any hostile contact, they gave the ruins a very wide berth, though taking the time to carefully plot them on their maps.  Another seven days, and the great river took a bend to the northwestward, again in the shadow of another large city, and they followed it’s shores until they came to a branching river.  At this point, they had to cross the great river. Too deep and swift to ford, and the available bridges too fragile to use, they made camp and spent several days building rafts to carry them across.  The crossing was difficult and dangerous.  One of the rafts snagged on an under water tree limb and upended, spilling its horse, cart and passengers into the brown waters.  Two of their party vanished, a southerner and a plainsman.  The horse, though frightened, managed to make the far shore along with the cart floating compliantly behind.

Grimly, they pressed on.  Another month went by, day after day of endless prairie.  Fors passed the hours learning from Sellen the language of signs they would use to converse. Sellen also told Fors about the tribes themselves, what history he knew and some of their customs.  Fors listened intently.  Even the most primitive groups of humans had rites and protocols which had to be observed.  He had no intention of allowing this opportunity to vanish in the flame of an insult, however unintentional.

They stayed close to a smaller river lined by cottonwood trees.  But even this smaller course held unseen dangers.  Kreston waded into the waters attempting to capture some fish with a net he had fashioned, only to be stuck in a queer kind of wet sand that pulled him slowly under.  Responding to his calls, a rope was swiftly passed to him, although it took four strong men to pull him from the river.  One of the Plains horses was struck by a large snake, its powerful venom killing the animal in minutes.  

For all their encounters, the apparent emptiness of the land was almost overwhelming.  The tall prairie grasses, bending in the ever-present winds, made a steady shh-ing sound that not only became annoying, but also blunted their hearing.  Even Fors had trouble isolating any sounds other than the winds and the grass.  

Then one day, they crested a low ridge to behold a sight that would stay with them to the end of their lives.  Below the ridge was a massive herd of creatures unlike anything they had ever seen or imagined.  Covered in brown fur, the head was massive and fronted by two horns.  Behind the head was a massive hump that tapered to the rear hips.  The legs seemed impossibly small to carry such a bulk.  This herd covered the ground for as far as they could see.  Suddenly, one of the beasts looked in their direction and snorted.  With that warning, the entire herd turned and ran, fortunately in the opposite direction from the expedition.  They stood, awestruck, as the ground shook with their passage.

On a hot day, five weeks into their journey, they made their first contact.  It was a brutally hot day and the heat had made them all somnolent.  Fors had been watching the horizon and glanced away from the endless rolling grassy hills.  When he looked back, he saw a horse and rider at the crest of a ridge.  At first he thought it was one of the outriders, but as he focused his vision, he knew immediately.



“Sellen.  Visitor. Up ahead on the ridge.”

 CHAPTER 17

The Plainsman squinted into the bright sunlight, then raised his hand, halting the column.  Turning, he said quietly.  “Wait here.”  Turning to the mountaineer, he said, “Fors, with me.”

Spurring their horses, they cantered towards the ridge.  As they came closer, Fors saw that the rider was bare-chested, his skin showing a distinctly red hue.  Around his waist, he wore a simple cloth secured by a belt from which hung a hunting knife.  His shoes were made of soft leather and around his neck was some kind of necklace that looked to be made of eagle claws.  The face was angular with dark, piercing eyes.  Like the Plainsman, he wore his hair long, but in braids.  And unlike the light brown to yellow hair of the Plainsmen, the stranger’s was jet black.  On his head was a leather band holding a single eagle feather.  Sellen stopped a short distance away, then after a pause, raised his right hand, open palm towards the mysterious rider, who responded with a like gesture.  Sellen then began a complex series of signs, which were rendered too fast for Fors to follow.  After apparently completing his message, the rider responded with gestures of his own.  Then he turned to look along the ridge, making a minute gesture with his head.  Fors was shocked to see others dressed similarly rise from the tall grass where they had been hiding.  There were about 50 of them, all seeming to appear out of thin air.  The rider signed back to Sellen, after which the Plainsman turned and waved to the column to follow.  They followed down the back side of the ridge and came upon another group surrounding the expedition’s six outriders, obviously captured.

For the next hour or so, they traversed the landscape.  Then they crossed a shallow stream, climbed a low hill and found themselves looking at a village.  Conical-shaped dwellings of animal hide were arranged in circular groups, all lying along the twisting shore of a small river.  They paused at the crest of the hill until they were recognized, and then went down the hill into the encampment.  Intently, Fors tried to take in as much as he possibly could.  There were women and children present, the women and girls wearing dresses of fringed leather, the boys wearing the cloths around their middle.  Remarkably, as they approached, the members of the tribe paid them almost no attention.  A few smaller children stared curiously until rebuked by their elders.  The tribesmen who had escorted them – Fors was still unsure whether or not they were prisoners or merely guests – went their separate ways, going to their individual dwellings.  One of them turned and made gestures to Sellen.  After responding, he turned and told the group, “Dismount and rest, but keep watch over the carts and supplies.”  Turning then to Fors and Arskane, he said, “Follow me.  We’re going to meet the Chief of this band.”

The three dismounted, taking the time to remove their leather chaps.  Three young boys came up and took the reins of their horses.  Sellen nodded at the other two.  “They will see to our horses.”  

Stiff from the long ride, they walked towards the center of the camp.  There they saw one dwelling on one side of a circle of stones.  Sellen murmured, “Watch me carefully and do what I do.”  

Entering the circle, instead of walking straight to the dwelling, he followed the circle around until they came to the entrance of the hide shelter.  There, they stopped.  As they waited, Fors noted with interest that the hide was decorated with pictures, hundreds of them.  They seemed to be arranged in specific ways, and the Star Man wondered if this was a record of some kind.

Presently, a woman approached from the opposite arc of the circle and without a word or glance at the visitors, went inside.  Fors could hear the murmur of some conversation, then the hide door opened again, and the woman bade them to enter.  Sellen gave them one more whispered advisory:  “Remember!  Walk around the circle, never across it.”

Fors, following Sellen, stooped low to enter the dwelling.  Inside, it was very dim, almost dark.  The transition from the very bright sun outside was abrupt.  They waited for a few moments until their eyes adjusted enough to see.  In the middle was a small circle of glowing embers. What they were using for fuel smelled sweetish, unlike no wood Fors, a veteran of many campfires, had ever smelled.  Arranged around the fire like the spokes of a wheel were robes of leather on one side and masses of long, matted fur on the other.  With a start, Fors realized that these beds were lined with the skins of those magnificent creatures they had seen on the prairie.  The dwellings must also be the hide of those creatures, as large as they were.

Suddenly, a voice, not loud but deep and penetrating, issued from an individual sitting cross-legged on the floor, directly opposite the door.  “Welcome to my lodge.  Sit and we will smoke your arrival.”  Though heavily accented and occasionally mispronounced, it was nonetheless the familiar sound of the Plains tongue.  Inwardly, Fors breathed a sigh of relief.  His task had just become much easier.  The woman gestured to one of the beds to the Chief’s left and the three sat down and crossed their legs.

The Chief produced a curious instrument.  It consisted of a long tube with a small cup or bowl on one end, and decorated with feathers.  Reaching into a pouch, he took some of the contents and filled the bowl.  He then reached into the fire and removed an ember, which he touched to the contents.  Suddenly, the inside of the tent was filled with a delightfully spicy smell.  The Chief then made a series of gestures, which Fors surmised constituted offering the pipe to the four compass directions.  He then placed one end of the tube in his mouth and drew the smoke into his lungs.  He then passed the pipe to Sellen, who imitated the gesture.  Arskane, whose tribal rituals included pipe traditions, drew the smoke easily into his lungs.  Fors was curious.  Being of the mountains, smoking was unknown to them, since tobacco of any kind was never available to them.  Arskane passed the pipe, and after a slight pause, Fors placed the pipe in his mouth and inhaled.  The taste was pleasant, but the smoke was not.  Fors desperately wanted to cough, and he felt immediately light-headed and dizzy, but managed to get through the ritual without falling over or throwing up. 

The pipe was passed back to the Chief, who emptied the remaining contents of the bowl into the fire.  After carefully returning the pipe to its rightful place, he then turned to Sellen and began to speak.

“Horseman, I am pleased to be with you once again.  You have made the long journey in the cause of peace and friendship and my heart soars.  Who are these others you have brought with you?  They are so very different than you.”

Sellen nodded.  “We are different in skin and hair, but our hearts are all straight with each other.”  Indicating Arskane, he continued.  “This is Arskane of the Tribe of Silver Wings.  His great-great-grandfathers once flew in the skies in craft like birds.”  Turning to the mountaineer, he said, “And this is Fors of the Tribe of the Eyrie who live in the Mountains which smoke.  Their great-great grandfathers once dreamed of journeys to the stars.” He paused, “My brothers, this is Dancing Eagle, Chief of the Medicine Wheel band of the Lakota Tribe.”

Turning to Fors, the Chief said, “You are the Peace Talker.  I have been told that you have the gift of tongues and hearts.  You help those who are blind to each other see clearly.”

Fors glanced at Sellen, who nodded, then replied, “We have come in peace, seeking friendship and knowledge.  We desire to help the people of all tribes to live together in understanding, and to forever eliminate the scourge of war.”

Dancing Eagle regarded Fors for a moment, then said, “Your heart speaks honestly, and your words are in harmony with your heart.  Welcome to my lodge.”

The three were then fed a simple ceremonial meal of stew in clay bowls.  They spoke several more times, then the Chief arose and indicated that the three were to follow him.  They exited the lodge as the sun settled into the western horizon to find the entire tribe assembled just outside.  The Chief spoke for a few minutes, a speech animated by gestures with a ceremonial lance.  At the end of the speech, the tribe undertook a remarkable transformation.  Their faces, which had been watchful, yet unexpressive, suddenly lit up with smiles as they welcomed, not only Fors, Arskane, and Sellen, but the entire party.

That night, a feast was given.  The expedition contributed food from their supplies, giving the Lakota a sampling of all three cuisines.  Some of the Lakota men performed a dance around the blazing campfire.  Following their lead, some of the Southerners danced as well.  Four Plainsmen sang a series of their tribal songs.  Fors, lacking any talents for song or dance, presented to Dancing Eagle a silver headband etched with the Eyrie’s symbol and the crests of the twelve clans.  His gift caused a chorus of “How-How” to rumble from the Lakota.  Glancing quickly at Sellen, he was reassured by a smile and a nod.  

Eventually, the celebration wound down and the Lakota began to return to their lodges.  The expedition quickly set up their tent shelters and retired, utterly exhausted.

Over the next week, they all fell into the rhythm of the Lakota life.  They were delighted to discover that several members of the tribe had learned the Plains language.  Through them, they spoke with many others, learning of their culture, beliefs, and traditions of the tribe.  They discovered that the Lakota were a large tribe, numbering in the tens of thousands, scattered in small bands, like the Medicine Wheel across a wide swath of territory.  They also learned that the Lakota had enemies, tribes called Pawnee and Crow, which whom they had fought for centuries even before the old ones had arrived in their territory.

A story was told repeatedly of the old one’s war, a tale of fire arrows rising out of the ground and soaring into the sky.  At first, Fors tended to dismiss the story as part of an imaginative lore.  But one day, a warrior named Rising Star took Fors, Arskane, Sellen, along with Kreston and Wenna, on a journey to the north.  After several hours, they came upon a curious structure.  A hard concrete surface covered the ground.  In the center was a dark, dank hole that disappeared into the ground.  Rising Star took them to a small structure off to the side and into a door.  They carefully descended into the depths on hard, but slippery steps.  Entering one chamber, Rising Star lit a small torch and directed them to a diagram on the wall.  Pointing at the object, he said, “The fire arrow.”  They studied it for a few moments, but it was Arskane who recognized it for what it was.

“This was a missile.  It was how the Old Ones sent their bombs towards their enemies.  See, here at the bottom was where the fire came out that drove the missiles into the air.  And at this end,” indicating a cone-shaped structure at the top, “was where the bombs rode.”  Turning to Fors, he continued somberly, “In another form, this is what your forebears would have ridden to the stars.”

They climbed out of the structure back into the bright sunshine.  Fors felt the old frustration at the Old Ones.  Such magnificent knowledge, and yet they turned it against each other, destroying the promise of the future.

They started on the journey back to the village a quiet group, each alone with their thoughts.  After a couple of hours, they saw Rising Star suddenly wheel to the right, urging his horse to a wild gallop.  The rest followed, slower.  When they caught up to their companion, he had gotten off his horse and was creeping slowly up a low hill.  Following suit, the rest of the party crept up as well.  Looking over the crest of the hill, they saw a herd of small animals, resembling deer, but smaller and with straight horns on their heads instead of antlers.  Arskane whispered, “What are they?”

Rising Star grinned.  “Fresh meat!”

The hunt was planned carefully.  They would approach the herd from four sides at once, hopefully giving them no place to run.  Kreston waited at the west side, Arskane and Fors taking the north and south sides, while Rising Star took the longest distance, and the most critical position on the east.

When they were ready, Rising Star sent an arrow into the animal nearest him.  That sparked the whole heard to turn to the west.  And could they run!  Fors had never seen an animal with such speed.  But before they went too far,  Kreston stood and quickly loosed three arrows, dropping two animals.  The herd then split, half going north towards Sellen, and the other half heading in Fors’ direction.  Fors fired a half-dozen arrows in quick succession, then the herd was upon him.  The animals did not trample him, but rather made quick, graceful leaps over and to either side of the Star Man.  Fors drew his sword and managed to drop four more animals before the remainder of the herd flashed by to be swallowed up by the prairie.  

Fors could see that Sellen had been successful as well, getting three with his rope-and-stone and two with his lance.  All told, eleven of the graceful animals, which Rising Star called Antelope, had been killed.  They dressed the animals for travel and loaded them onto the horses.  Before leaving however, Rising Star summoned Kreston.  When the boy came close, Rising Star cut into the chest of one of the Antelope and pulled out the heart, bloody and still palpitating.  With great relish, he bit into the heart and swallowed it, letting out a joyous yell.  He then held the heart out the Kreston.  The boy paled, but after a bit of hesitation, bit into the red mass.  He had to chew through the blood vessels, but managed to gnaw off and swallow a suitably sized chunk.  Although looking a bit ill, he also let out a yell to Rising Star’s apparent joy.  Immediately, the Lakota removed a claw necklace from his neck and placed it on the boy.  

Fors walked with his son back to their horses.  “How do you feel?”

The boy stopped.  “You know, it was pretty bad at first.  But when I swallowed it, I felt my calves hum like I could have run for days.”  He paused, then looked up at Fors.  “Was this something you call “Diplomacy?”