Free Casca 9: The Sentinel by Barry Sadler Page A

strength before he gave in to the inevitable. For him it was a pleasant if exhausting joining. For Ireina it was the final establishing of her claim to him, and she was determined that her man would have no reason to look elsewhere for companionship.
    Once he did come out into the open. The villagers wanted to make him their chief. This he refused gently but firmly. He wanted no responsibility for them. Ireina gave him a disapproving look, but said nothing. If he didn't want to be chief, he must have a good reason.
    His reason was that he knew that he couldn't stay with them. Once the passes were open, he would have to leave. It was a constant irritation to be watched, pointed to, and whispered about. He had to give orders that offerings were not to be left at his door anymore, but that didn't stop the custom completely. It was not unusual for him to find a piece of smoked meat or a few eggs when he opened the door. If it had just been food, he wouldn't have been so concerned, but there were also signs that the offerings had been made to him in what they thought of as his aspect of being a half god. Small clay figurines of the earth mother or other local deities were usually placed near the offerings.
    Casca did not wish to be anyone's god. It was too great a burden. The only good thing about the way everyone treated him was that he was able to sit on his ass for the rest of the winter, taking it easy. Just as the weather was beginning to warm, he had a moment of consternation when he noticed that Ireina was beginning to put on a little weight and walked around most of the time with a smug expression on her face. It didn't take him long to figure out that she was pregnant. This bothered him a bit. He knew that he wasn't able to sire any offspring and wondered whether she'd been messing around.
    A little conversation with Molvai explained the circumstances of the rape by Herac. But, he figured, what the hell? If she wanted to think it was his, why not?
    It was spring when the child was born to Ireina: A fine healthy boy with fair features and dark eyes. Casca had by this time come to think of the new arrival as his own and was as anxious as any expectant father.
    For him it was a new experience to put out a rough finger and feel the small fingers of a baby tug at them and try to suck them.
    He swore that he would give the baby all that a father could. He would have stayed in their high mountain valley if the villagers had accepted him as a normal man and not some type of supernatural being. The women would bring their children to him and plead for him to touch their heads to bring them luck. The way they treated his son was no different. The baby was an object of awe and wonder. If they stayed there, the child would have no chance to grow up normally. When the day came that he discovered that he was only mortal and not the child of a demigod, it would bring him nothing but grief.
    When Demos was six months old, Casca decided that he was strong enough for them to leave the mountains. He hated to do it but felt that there was no other choice. Ireina didn't care. As long as she was with him and had her child, she would go anywhere without complaint. Her dreams were all coming true.
    The horses and what silver the raiders had on their bodies, Casca claimed as his due for services rendered. There were no complaints from anyone. The only problem was that they didn't want to let him go. But they also knew there was no way to stop him. He did make one concession, promising to return one day.
    With Ireina on a horse behind him and Demos nestled in his scarred arms, they began to descend to the warm lands below, where snow seldom fell and winds were gentle.
    The horses he sold at Aquileia. The money he got for them was enough for them to live comfortably for several months. He wanted this time to watch Demos grow. Every day was a new adventure for him. The first unsure steps rapidly passed into overconfident little stumbling steps. Casca