The Hunter Victorious Read online

  Keri had maintained her silence, but now she slept in Braldt’s embrace. He felt her slight weight resting in his arms and was filled with the need to protect her and keep her safe always. If there was a way to return to their world, he would find it and spend the rest of his life at her side.

  Braldt opened his eyes and stared up at the stone ceiling, failing for the moment to recognize where he was. Then it all came back. He sighed, stiff and sore and aching in every limb. His arm was asleep where Keri had lain upon it all night. He was beset with despair. How could anyone have survived the quake? No one could possibly be alive. The mountain had certainly collapsed in upon itself. It was surely a fool’s mission; they would find nothing of value and most likely kill themselves in the bargain.

  Many of the others woke with the same thoughts, but Barat Krol would not allow them to retreat into gloom and depression, and soon they found themselves setting forth on the first step of the journey.

  The going was difficult, for the snow was deep and it was impossible to know where it was safe and where it was not. They had found six sets of skis in the blockhouse and the most adept members of their group were using them to break a trail. Braldt and Barat Krol, having had no experience with the strange objects, followed behind, leading the rest of the party.

  They were negotiating a wide expanse of mixed snow and slippery stone when suddenly they heard excited shouts from those who had gone ahead. Their first thought was of disaster, some falling snow or unstable ground that had given way. But they soon realized that the sounds were joyous and not the sounds of disaster.

  They crossed the slope as quickly as possible and as they rounded a large outcrop of boulders and ice, they were confronted with an almost unbelievable sight: their own party of six, totally surrounded by a group of more than two hundred Scandis and Madrelli!

  It was an odd group, extremely odd, for these were the majority of those who had been injured in the first quake and had been left behind during the wedding. Their caretakers and healers were with them, and loved ones who had regarded them as being more important than the king’s wedding. Septua was there as was Mirna, and, most happily, Braldt found Brandtson and Saxo, with Thunder still riding on his shoulder, among their numbers.

  They had arrived on an odd assortment of sleds pulled by whatever animals were large enough and strong enough to pull them: sheep; small, long-haired arctic cattle with wide thick horns and placid temperament; and even a few pigs. The rest of the sleds were powered by Scandis and Madrelli who had shouldered the burdens willingly. Any and all caste divisions had vanished in the mutual threat. If they did not help each other, they would die.

  Their story was simple. They had felt the ground begin to rumble and shake soon after the wedding party departed. Fearing another quake, they had been quick to remove themselves from the interior of the mountain, seizing whatever they could lay their hands on to make good their escape. They were bundled in numerous layers of clothing and polyskins, knowing that it would be freezing outside. They had grabbed whatever foodstuffs were available and their sleds were piled high with bundles of booty.

  They had managed to reach a plateau that fortunately was spared the worst of the destruction. There they had spent the day and the night watching their world destroy itself, and had seen the ship’s departure and realized that it could not have taken everyone aboard. For lack of a better plan—or any other plan at all, for that matter—they had come to investigate in the hopes that they were not alone.

  Saxo and Brandtson had been found along the way, having hastily taken their leave of their sanctuary, which, of course, was no longer safe.

  They returned to the plain by midday and those in the blockhouse heard their glad cries and came running out. There were many happy reunions, and there were many whose worst fears were realized.

  Unwilling to return to the confining walls of the stone blockhouse, the survivors of Valhalla, earth, and the planet known as K7, huddled together on the snowy plain beneath the gray and lowering sky.

  It was Barat Krol who started it, it was later remembered: a joining of hands, a great circle, Madrelli, Scandis, misfits all, one people, with no home in the universe. It was a prayer, it was a song, it was thanksgiving, it was sorrow—it was all of those things and more. And as they stood there beneath the dark sky, someone chanced to look up—a child, perhaps—and was the first to see it.

  At first they thought the sun had returned, for the sky was blue—as far as the eye could see, blue. But then the sky, the blueness, drew nearer, and those among them who were fearful began to cry, for it seemed that the sky was indeed falling. Then those who were braver, or perhaps had simply ceased to fear, pointed upward and exclaimed that what they were seeing was not the sky at all, but numerous squares of blue—much like small carpets, some later said—floating down from the sky to land beside them.

  HUNTER AT BAY

  Once he was chieftain of a stone age land…

  then a captive battling monsters on planet Arena.

  Now Braldt the Hunter, his woman Keri,

  and his kinsman from Earth are trapped on Valhalla,

  a doomed world of shapeshifters and science, foul

  treachery and mad genocide. Once more, the—

  Hunter must fight a brutal enemy world.

  Yet if Braldt survives, he and those he loves

  may die with the planet. For there is no escape,

  no way back from exile…

  And little chance of saving not only his family,

  but his entire race!