Valorian (30 page)

Valorian bounded to his feet, and this time, it was Aiden who was nearly knocked over when he dismounted to greet his brother.

"By al the holy gods, Valorian," Aiden asked incredulously, "what happened around here?" His gaze went flying from Valorian's battered face to the hall's burned remains and back again. "What's going on?

Why is everyone at the gate? I saw Linna, but she said to come talk to you."

Valorian didn't answer Aiden's questions immediately. He had too many of his own. "Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice made sharper by joy, relief, and the anger of pent-up frustration.

"What took you so long? Are the others with you?"

The excitement of his answers temporarily distracted I Aiden, and his face lit up with a mischievous grin. "Yes, they're with their families. We didn't lose one. Oh, gods, Valorian, you should have seen that fire! It was spectacular!" He clasped his brother's arm, his gray eyes clear and sparkling through the grime on his face, and the two men sat down beside their grandmother.

Aiden rushed on. "It was the most magnificent fire I've ever seen! We found an old warehouse built of wood and full of bales of wool. We waited until dark, then set it alight. Whoosh!" He threw his hands up in the air and chuckled appreciatively. "It went up like an oil-soaked torch. There were people and soldiers everywhere trying to fight that blaze with buckets and shovels. They might as wel have spit on it, for al the good their buckets did. The fire got so hot, it spread to several other buildings nearby."

Valorian's eyes narrowed. "You were there? You were supposed to leave as soon as the fire began."

Aiden laughed outright. "I helped in the bucket lines," he said, showing Valorian his ash-covered clothes. "Actually, we couldn't get out right away. The gates were kept shut until nearly midday, and when they final y opened, everyone who went through was searched from head to boot. We didn't try to leave until last evening. Gave me some time to find some new goats for Liona. Besides, I also wanted to see General Tyrranis's reaction." There was a long hesitation, and the merriment died from his eyes.

"I imagine he was angry," Valorian said to prompt the younger man.

"Tyrranis goes far beyond angry," Aiden replied in slow and worried tones. "I really think he has gone over the edge of sanity. He had every sentinel at the north gate hanged in the market and has nailed the commander of the garrison to the city walls.
A Tarn!
Nailed up with a murderer and two cattle thieves. In front of the whole city." He shook his head. "It was eerie in that city yesterday.

Everyone was holding his breath and sidling into shadows whenever Tyrranis came near. He personally tore the city apart looking for you or anyone who even looked like a clansman. He hacked down one poor traveler wearing a cloak before he realized the man was only a pilgrim going south to Sar Nitina."

"That doesn't bode well for Karez's hopes," Mother Wil a murmured.

Aiden looked at her curiously, then resumed his tale. "That's not the worst of it. When we left last night, he had put out a call for all able-bodied men to report to the tower for temporary duty. He's ordered the garrison to arm and stand by and he stripped the city of all available horses. As soon as he has enough men, he's going to march up here and, in his own words, 'Wipe out the vermin once and for all.'"

"Huh!" Mother Willa snorted indelicately. "Vermin. I like that, coming from him."

Aiden cast a speculative glance at Valorian and saw that his brother was sitting motionless, his neck muscles drawn tight in unspoken tension and his head slightly cocked, as if he were listening to something far away. Aiden suddenly noticed what Valorian was listening to—the silence. The distant voices had stopped.

A slow, satisfied smile lit Mother Willa's seamed face from the knowledge of certainty. "They have done it," she said softly to Valorian.

"Done what?" Aiden demanded, irritated now by the lack of answers. "What is going on here?"

No one replied. Valorian straightened his back a little, his eyes on the road from the palisade.

"They understand now," his grandmother went on. Her I voice became gentle and singsong, and she swayed slightly as if she were repeating the images of a vision. "The goddess Amara has walked among their thoughts today, reminding them of her gifts to you, her champion. At last they believe."

Aiden was staring at her now, amazed, while Valorian watched the road. For a moment, no one moved. Then Valorian suddenly rose to his feet. Aiden turned to look, too, and saw the entire Clan walking up the road toward them. Mordan, Kierla, and Gylden were in the forefront, their faces shining.

But it was Karez and the leaders of the other families who came to stand before the tall clansman and bow low before him.

"We will go, Lord Valorian," the oldest man said.

Aiden's jaw dropped open. "
Lord
Valorian?" he cried.

"Since when? Wil someone please tel me what has been happening around here?" And with great pleasure, Mother Willa told him.

From that moment, Valorian took command. He explained to the gathered Clan about Aiden's news of General Tyrranis's plan to march into the hills, and impressed upon them the urgency of a rapid departure. .

"We must leave no later than tomorrow," he ordered. "Every family will be responsible for packing their tents and belongings and gathering in their herds. If any of you know of someone who isn't here, please send that person word immediately. We will not leave any clans person behind to face the wrath of the Tarns." He went on, issuing orders and answering questions until everyone was satisfied with the immediate task ahead.

And the task was monumental. Although most of the Clan families were already prepared to spend the summer on the move, the families of Gylden and Valorian had lost all their tents, gear, and personal possessions; the people of Stonehelm had to pack the contents of a town, and none of the groups had traveled as a whole for as long as anyone could remember. The tact and work involved in supplying, organizing, and forming the large caravan was more than Valorian could have handled alone.

Fortunately he didn't have to. Mordan worked tirelessly to organize carts, wagons, and horses for baggage and supplies. The extra animals that Hunnul had brought from the Tarnish corrals were a godsend, Mordan told Valorian.

Gylden helped the clanspeople mark their horses and stock animals not already branded and organize the herds. Everyone contributed from his own meager supplies and belongings to help the survivors of the raid of Tarn, and Aiden served as Valorian's spokesman, easing ruffled feathers, soothing fears, and encouraging young and old with his optimistic smile.

By the time the sun lifted its rays over the mountain peaks the next day, Valorian began to believe they would be able to leave on time. Every person in the Clan was accounted for and doing what needed to be done to get ready to go. A caravan was taking shape in the fields below Stonehelm, where wagons and carts jostled for position and the herds waited in nervous expectation. People hurried everywhere, looking for lost children, fetching forgotten belongings, running for last-minute items. Dogs scurried underfoot, and the children were wild with excitement.

Valorian rode Hunnul from one end of the forming caravan to the other, helping wherever he could, full of calm and Courage. He lifted the hearts of all his people and spurred them on to greater efforts.

At noon, Mordan, at the front of the long caravan, sounded a deep, undulating signal on a ram's horn that soared over the fields and meadows and swept through the empty buildings of Stonehelm.

The Clan priests and priestesses gathered together with Valorian to call on the gods for protection and goodwill.

When the prayers were finished, Valorian stepped forward, raised his arms to the sun, and cried,

"Amara, Mother of All, lead us into the hills with your truth and your light. Guide us on the path of our destiny.”

Every clansperson's eye automatically lifted to scan the sky or the horizon for some omen that the gods were listening. Every breath was held, and the only movements in the caravan were the restless shifting of animals.

Then the omen came on the wings of a pair of rare golden eagles—the birds of Surgart, the color of Amara. They came from the west and slowly soared on the upper air currents until they were over the line of wagons. The two birds flew lazily side by side, their gleaming heads seeming to look down on the people below. In unison, the birds wheeled over the procession of carts, wagons, packhorses, and herds.

When they reached Valorian, they seemed to swoop lower to let the light of their wings shine upon his, face. Final y the eagles turned south, and the clanspeople watched them until the pair vanished in the distance.

"The gods have sent their oracles to point the way!" a priest shouted into the awed silence. An uproar of cheering, whistling, and shouting broke loose from the entire Clan.

In the next moment, whips cracked, reins popped, horses neighed; gradually the train of animals and vehicles began to move. They headed south after the eagles, slowly at first, then faster as the people and the animals settled into a steady pace.

Valorian had long before decided what path they would take, should the Clan ever decide to leave, so he and a group of armed warriors rode to the front of the caravan and led the long string of herds and wagons deeper into the Bloodiron Hil s. He knew it would have been easier to take the Clan to the flatter lowlands and skirt the foothil s, but the Tarns would expect that and search for them there. By using the rougher, lesser known paths, the caravan would move slower, but they would stand a greater chance of evading Tyrranis and his soldiers.

As the wagons one by one crested a ridge and Stonehelm fell behind, it seemed every person turned to take one last look at the abandoned town and the large blackened spot in its center where Lord Fearral and his men rested in the ashes. In the rear guard, Aiden, too, paused to bid a silent farewell. Wordlessly he raised his hand to salute his dead chieftain. Without a regret, he turned his back on the forlorn town and followed his new chief over the ridge toward a future known only to the gods.

* * * * *

A haze of thickening clouds obscured the sun two days later when General Tyrranis led his mounted soldiers up the road toward Stonehelm. They made no effort to hide their approach, trotting in fully armed ranks up the hil s to the town. Some resistance from the clanspeople was expected but not enough to worry the Tarnish troops, who had superior arms, training, and numbers.

What worried the soldiers more was their leader. After summarily nailing the garrison commander to the city wall by his hands and feet for his abysmal failure to prevent the Clan raid, General Tyrranis had taken over direct command of the troops himself. Before roll call the day before, he had made a vitriolic speech to the regular troops and the new draftees, telling them that they were charged with the duty of washing the hil s with Clan blood. Not a single clansperson of any age was to be spared anywhere in Chadar.

Some of the men didn't like the idea of slaughtering innocent women, children or elders, but no one could look into the brutally cold darkness of Tyrranis's eyes and suggest otherwise. They would rather face a cornered pack of clansmen or a murdered pile of corpses than draw the attention of his merciless fury.

The troops were silent as they rode, unchal enged, into Stonehelm. Their eyes flicked nervously from the empty, abandoned buildings to their general's face, and they waited in ranks, holding their breath for his reaction.

Tyrranis said nothing at first. Irritably he looked over the burned ruins of Fearral's hall, the lifeless paths, and the empty corrals before reining his horse around. He rode to the gate of the palisade, pulled off his helmet, and studied the churned-up fields below. His skin seemed to tighten across his hard face as his mouth tightened into a grimace of anger.

"So," he murmured under his breath like the hiss of a snake, "the quarry has flown." With his eyes, he followed the the trail of hoof prints and wagon ruts leading out of the valley. "No matter. They cannot go far."

A sudden, violent feeling of hatred and rage stabbed through his self-control at the thought of Valorian and his people. Never in his successful and perfectly ordered career had Tyrranis ever been so deceived and humiliated. A worthless clansman had tricked him and ruined his prestige throughout the provinces. When word of this got back to Tarnow and the emperor's ears, his reputation could well be stained beyond redemption. He would never be able to gather the support and funds necessary for his bid for the throne.

His only hope of repairing the damage and taking his revenge for this insult dealt to his self-respect was to slaughter the clanspeople to a man. They were useless anyway; their tribute was pitiful, and their horses could survive just as well without them. Only their deaths had any value now.

Tyrranis's hands tightened unconsciously on the reins and until his horse jigged its head in pain and shied sideways to escape the brutal pressure on the bit in its mouth. The general angrily lashed it to a trembling standstill. When the horse was quiet again, Tyrranis slowly forced his emotions back under control. Fury and hatred were exhausting if allowed to burn freely. He would save his strength for the day that his troops cornered Valorian and the people who followed him; then he would release his rage and cool it in Clan blood. Only Valorian would live, just long enough to impart the secret of his magic.

Tyrranis had no idea how Valorian had suffered through the night of torture without revealing his power, but the general swore that wouldn't happen again. If he had to tear apart every member of Valorian's family with his bare hands to get the man's secret of magic, he was prepared to do so.

"Maxum Lucius!" he snapped.

The man now second-in-command of the Actigorium garrison rode forward hurriedly and saluted.

"Raze this pitiful village to the ground. I want nothing left of it!" ordered the general. "Then dispatch scouts to all known Clan camps. Search every hiding place in these hills until you find those people. The rest of the force will come with me to follow their trail." His eyes suddenly narrowed, and the veins bulged dangerously in his neck. "If any those clanspeople escape, I wil personal y send you to copper mines of Scartha. I will not tolerate any more incompetence. Is that understood?"