Conflict and Courage Read online

  The arrival of humans on their planet had led to many changes to the traditional way of life. Now they would have to adapt. Some rtaths were not as keen as others about the burgeoning relationship between the two species, although these were mostly from the western packs that had had little or no contact with the newcomers.

  They were frightened of these life-bonds, these pairings, Lind and human, that went emotionally deeper than even those between mates. Previously if one of an eln died, whether in battle or from disease or old age, the other continued to live, but all reports from the battlefield indicated that with vadeln-pairings, the other partner, whether Lind or human died also. This was a great matter for concern.

  Also, females traditionally did not fight in the Lindars until their young were fully-grown. For those paired and with the Vada, this would not be an option. Nursery cover would have to be provided and there was a very real possibility that mothers would be required to fight and might die in battle leaving their young as orphans.

  It was the representative from pack Maletei who opened the proceedings.

  “What have humans done for us?” he complained. “If they not arrive Larg not have allies made of humans in the south.”

  “If our humans had not arrived,” Mariya countered, “these men in the south might still be allied with Larg and we would be fighting them both on our own. It is a good thing we have much in common with our humans.”

  “What if they want to come and live in our rtathlians?” asked another.

  “That will not happen,” answered Mariya in a tone that brooked no argument and before another worry had a chance to take hold. “If they need more paw room they will travel to islands. They have maps. Are islands beyond count, some bigger even than rtathlians of largest rtath. Humans offer much in exchange for friendship.”

  “Our dagas are now warm and dry,” announced Larnei of pack Ratvei. “Human forepaws are very useful and they do this without asking. In our rtathlian humans work hard to make dagas free of rain puddles. Ltsctas sleep warm and dry.”

  “They will grow soft,” growled one elderly Lind, shaking his head.

  “I think not,” continued Larnei. “When grow to adulthood, I think you find Lindars are better than ever and why not sleep warm and dry? My old bones feel the difference when last I visit and then there is their Holad.”

  “Their Holad have offered themselves freely,” said Mariya, anxious to press on. She sensed that some of the more antagonistic pack representatives were beginning to come round to her way of thinking.

  “Yes,” admitted Saya, representative of a small pack that had not participated in the battle, “we heard have many more survived their battle wounds than in times past.”

  “And,” added Mariya, becoming angry at the continuing signs of doubt, “the birthings, almost none die, if human is there to help.”

  “How?” asked the doubters.

  “They do operation,” answered Larnei, stumbling over the strange word. “Cut open and take ltsctas out and bind the mother up again. Call it “caesarsection”.

  “All but one mother has survived this and she was very weak when reached help. Her young lived,” added Mariya.

  “How do we meet with Holad humans?” asked Saya, interested in spite of her misgivings.

  “Not all vadeln-pair are fighters,” answered Larnei. “Many train to heal. Will take time to train enough so that every rtath has humans to tend to our sickness, but it will happen. Susyc Jim and Larya have promised, also a human called Winston. He has set up Holad domta and it is open to all human and Lind who wish learn.”

  “You can help,” pressed Mariya, “send young Holad from your rtath to learn there.”

  They were coming round. She could sense it.

  She stood up a little straighter. “Humans are here to stay,” she told them in a strident voice, “we must work with them. You must be with me.”

  The assembled looked at her with respect then they lowered their heads and genuflected agreement in the traditional manner.

  “One final thing,” she said. “More vadeln-pair needed. All rtath will send out seekers to find suitable human. Send word to your domtas. This is a command from the Gtrathlin. Immediate obedience is required.”

  It was a measure of Mariya’s success and the respect they all felt for her that not one of them objected.

  Within days small groups of unattached Lind were on their way east intent on finding the right human with whom to life-bond.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 3 - VADATH

  Tara stood watching Janice as Brian settled himself on Sofiya’s back. They were the only cadet duo going with Francis and Asya and the remainder of the Vada, the other cadets would not leave for another few weeks when Jim and Larya would escort them south, Larya having expressed a wish to see the stronghold for herself.

  Beside Tara stood Brian’s three little sisters, Violet, Lucy and Juliet, wide-eyed at what was happening around them and upset at the departure of their brother. Violet, the elder of the three, appeared to be the most affected. With a valiant effort she was managing to keep her tears under control. She had told Brian earnestly the previous evening that she intended to join him before she was much older, a sentiment that Brian cautioned her to keep to herself, lest the thought of losing yet another child to the Vada unhinged their mother completely.

  “Don’t forget to give Louis my love,” Janice said in a shaky voice.

  “I won’t mother,” Brian answered with a jaunty wave, not knowing that Louis and Ustinya had left for Argyll with Geraldine and Jsei and correspondingly would not be there to greet them.

  “Remember to give him the socks.”

  “Louis is hard on his socks,” Janice explained to Tara, who nodded, understanding. It was a difficult thing for any mother to watch first one and then another of her sons go off to join the army and that was what the Vada was.

  The cavalcade set out, those staying behind waving until the column was out of sight before going back to their cabins and dagas.

  Tara followed behind what was left of her foster family. The Randall family would not be remaining in domta Afanasei for much longer either. Soon they would be on the move again, to the river-wood where Winston intended to set up his medical school. It was not far away, a decision for which Tara was inordinately thankful; she was sick and tired of moving from one place to another and yearned for a place she could call home. Perhaps in the new domta they could all settle down, far away from armies and wars.

  She wondered when she would next see Brian. Kolyei was another Lind who wished to see the stronghold but she, herself, did not want to visit and Tara knew that he would not go without her. Perhaps she should ask him to bespeak Ustinya and ask her to send some images of the place. At least then she could describe them to Janice and so put her foster-mother’s mind at rest a bit.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 4 - ARGYLL

  Hidden in the woods of the country to the east, which was becoming known as Argyll, Aoalvaldr the Larg watched and brooded on what he saw and heard.

  Unsuspecting fools! It was time for him to return to the southern continent, his fact-finding mission at an end and decide how best he could engineer his revenge.

  * * * * *

  Seven days west of the stronghold, Louis and Ustinya abandoned Geraldine, Jsei and Mislya and headed north on an errand of their own. It was the end of summer, the downpours that marked the beginning of the changing of the seasons over. The countryside was lush with vegetative growth.

  As they journeyed, the three saw signs of colonists spreading inland and along the coast. Farmsteads were springing up everywhere, the majority beside the hundreds of rivers and streams that criss-crossed this part of the continent. The farmers were busy in their fields. Under planned cultivation, the roots that grew profusely, even when wild, were yielding far more per acre than the most optimistic had estimated. There would be plenty for all and some over come winter, their second cold season on the plane
t.

  Transportation was still a problem. The intractable jezdic were being broken to harness but it was a slow process.

  Most of the adults they passed carried a weapon of some sort. It was the law. The Council of Argyll had decreed that all able-bodied citizens must learn how to fight. Arthur Knott the blacksmith was still churning out swords and knives and his goods found a ready market especially among those souls who were moving away from the more populous areas around Settlement.

  At Settlement the three saw that the scars of battle were fading, the grave-mounds grassing over, wild flowers seeding, a promise of heart-ease for those mourning the loss of families and friends. They often sighted lone Lind. They were searching.

  It took Geraldine, Mislya and her brother Jsei time to make the journey through Argyll, a journey taken in a leisurely manner out of deference to Mislya’s recently healed wounds on her back hindquarters that still made running difficult. If it had not been for her hurts would have searched out Wilhelm long before. They knew that Louis and Ustinya had gone on a private errand on behalf of Jim and Larya, they would catch up if they could, but Mislya didn’t expect to see the two until they were all on their way back home.

  As the three ran, Mislya’s thoughts were about her intended human. She had noticed Wilhelm during the battle and admired his expertise with the short sword Robert Lutterell’s infantry had used to such effect against the Larg kohorts on that fateful day. He had killed many Larg. What would she do if she couldn’t persuade him to come with her? Mislya approached the farmstead where Wilhelm Dahlstrom and his family had staked their claim with a great deal of trepidation.

  ”You think this man will wish to bond?” asked Jsei of his lisya as they halted to get their breath and tidy up. The Dahlstrom Farm was beyond the next hill.

  “Francis asked him if he would consider being our Weaponsmaster and he refused,” agreed Geraldine as she combed and brushed the large female. Mislya wanted to look her best and Geraldine was combing out the tangles from her coat with due care for the areas where her skin was still tender.

  “That was before,” Mislya replied with a confidence she did not feel.

  “I don’t think it’ll be easy,” said Geraldine, “he told Francis he had signed on with the colony to farm, not to train children to kill.”

  “That was before he met Larg,” was Mislya’s logical reminder. “Vada needs him. I need him. Many more will die if we not get good training.”

  Geraldine paused in her ministrations and looked at them both.

  “Do you want me to make the first move?” she asked. “Perhaps the man feels that his duty is here in Argyll with his family. Robert Lutterell asked him to help train the militia and he refused that offer as well. Said he knew as little about infantry formation fighting as Robert himself. They fight with the short sword and I don’t think he ever felt comfortable with it.”

  “Precisely,” said Mislya, “is why he must teach Vada. Our riders fight with long sword.”

  “We’re asking him to give up a lot,” persisted Geraldine.

  Mislya and Jsei flicked their tails at her.

  “He will realise that must join with Mislya. It is for the good of his rtathen. What other choice is there?” countered Jsei.

  Geraldine laughed. “We humans are not as self-sacrificing as you Lind. A fault, you might think, but we haven’t had the benefit of your upbringing.”

  “We will appeal to his sense of what is right and true,” said Jsei and turned to Mislya, “did you sense strong thoughts from this man during battle?”

  “Chaotic, but yes,” she answered. “This why I say to Asya she must let me go and find him. Only then will he realise what we ask of him and why we need him.”

  “We’ll give it our best shot,” decided Geraldine. She stood back and surveyed her handiwork. “You look beautiful Mislya. How could Wilhelm resist?”

  Mislya eyed her mischievously as she shook the hairs of her luxurious pelt into place.

  “If you both ready,” she informed them, “I think we will go now if we want to arrive before sun falls from sky.”

  The three set out to walk the last mile of their journey.

  Wilhelm Dahlstrom was working in the corral that held his family’s small herd of kura when his eldest son spied the trio approaching.

  It was not unusual to receive a visit from the duty Lindar, especially during the first critical setup months of a new farmstead. As well as patrolling the coasts, the Lindar provided the essential communications link between the farmers and the Council. In the months since the battle a pattern of such visits had developed, most outlying farms receiving a visit every ten days.

  What was unusual about this visit was that there were only two Lind approaching, an inland patrol numbered at least six, and that one of the two had a rider aboard.

  “Dad, Lind coming.”

  Wilhelm Dahlstrom looked up and followed his son’s gaze.

  “Best let Mum know we have guests,” was all he said as he resumed his hoeing. “I’ll bring them in when I have found out what they want.”

  His son nodded and ran off. His father waited, rubbing his temples as he did so. There was a strange buzzing in his ears that he couldn’t identify and which was making him jumpy.

  His visitors approached and he squinted at them, the better to see exactly who they were. At least the rider’s presence meant that they were not the Larg, he had seen enough of these creatures to last him a lifetime.

  Geraldine and Jsei walked towards the wiry figure, Mislya following behind.

  “Good evening,” said Geraldine courteously.

  Wilhelm acknowledged the greeting with a nod. Mislya and Jsei nodded in their turn but did not speak. The former kept her gaze on the man.

  Wilhelm again felt the buzzing in his head, this time coupled with a weird feeling of disorientation.

  “Wilhelm Dahlstrom? You may remember me. I fought on the infantry right wing during the battle,” Geraldine began.

  He nodded again.

  “I remember you all right. Geraldine isn’t it? I heard that you had bonded with a Lind during the battle. Is this he?” he asked, looking directly at Jsei. He felt nervous of the other Lind and had decided to avoid looking at her if he could. There was something challenging about her stare.

  “I am pleased meet you,” interjected Jsei. “I am vadeln with Geraldine. This is Mislya.”

  Wilhelm acknowledged this greeting with another short bow and looked at Geraldine. “What can we do for you? Do you need a bed for the night? That we can provide; food too.”

  “That would be good,” she answered. “We have come a long way to speak to you.”

  “To speak to me?” he asked, wary.

  “We have not travelled this far for no reason. We wish to ask you again if you will consider becoming Weaponsmaster of the Vada. We are in great need of your skills if we are to be able to protect the north.”

  As Wilhelm stepped back in negation, the relentless Geraldine continued, “we have many youngsters, some not much older than your own children who will have to fight in the future. They have accepted this task, but without the proper training their lives will be short ones.”

  The convicts and the Larg have been defeated,” he protested. “We are safe now.”

  “Larg are ever a danger. It is their nature,” said Jsei and with careful emphasis, added, “they will return.”

  “How?” retaliated Wilhelm, “the beachhead is being fortified. By the time Robert Lutterell has finished with it, nothing could get through these barriers.”

  “The prisoners at Settlement have told us of boatbuilding. From their descriptions of the keels being laid the boats resemble Viking longships,” said Geraldine, having picked up this description from one Emily Stanton whose knowledge about all things historical was second to none.

  “Vikings? Never heard of them.”

  “Tenth century earth raiders. They terrorised northern Europe, rape, pillage and the like.”


  “I see,” said Wilhelm, “and Jim Cranston thinks the convicts are going to emulate them in some way? He thinks that I can stop them? Young lady, I can assure you that I cannot.” He grunted and shook his head. “I don’t teach children how to kill. I may be a fencing maestro, yes, that I admit, but it is a sport. Before the battle I had killed neither man nor beast.”

  “You did help train the infantry. If you hadn’t, if we hadn’t learnt how to fight we would be dead.”

  “I know this,” Wilhelm said, his voice rising in agitation. “I know this, you think I don’t?”

  “So what happens next time the south attack?” Geraldine pressed.

  “The situation would have to be grave indeed before I will raise my blade again in anger. The south is defeated. They will not be eager to return.”

  “The Larg will always want the north,” said Geraldine. “The convicts too; maybe not another invasion on the same scale. They will raid instead. Francis and Jim are sure of it.”

  “Robert Lutterell is not convinced,” answered Wilhelm.

  “Then he is a fool,” began Geraldine with some heat.

  Wilhelm stilled her with one upraised hand.

  “I see no reason why I should uproot my family once more. We are far from the coast. I am not the only father to bring his family inland. The Larg will never reach here.”

  “How little you know them,” said Mislya in a soft voice. Wilhelm jumped.

  “I don’t see the need,” he argued, “this Vada of yours has good fighters and surely one of them can train the youngsters?”

  “None have your mastery,” said Geraldine, trying to be as persuasive as she could.

  Wilhelm laughed. “Trying to butter me up young woman?”

  “We need you.”

  Mislya took a step forward and another, until she was standing directly in front of him. He shut his eyes. He could feel her breath on his skin. It had a sharp spicy odour to it that was not unpleasant.