Valorian (33 page)

Meanwhile, the head of the long tram had reached the river and it, too, had run into problems. The shallow ford was too narrow for everyone to cross at once, and the Clan wagons were starting to slow down as they reached the bottleneck.

Hunnul came to the first wrecked wagon and stopped at Valorian's command. The driver, a lone woman with a daughter and two nearly grown sons, looked up gratefully as the chief slid off to help.

Valorian was relieved to see the problem was only a broken axle. One quick spell repaired the wagon, then he and Hunnul quickly hurried the little family toward the next broken-down cart.

This one had hit a large rock, shattered its wheel, and sent its contents and occupants flying. The two people were still trying to deal with their injuries when Valorian arrived. Once again he fixed the wagon with magic, but there was nothing he could do with the broken arm and the cuts and abrasions.

The woman and her children helped the driver while the chieftain returned the belongings to the cart with a spell. In moments, they were off after the caravan.

Twice more Valorian stopped to help until he had four carts and wagons with their passengers and several stragglers, a warrior with a limping horse, four dogs, and Gylden with the boys and the brood mare herd in his company. Just ahead, the rest of the Clan was rumbling down to the riverbank, while behind, the Tarnish soldiers were drawing dangerously close.

Valorian decided it was time to slow the Tarns down again. He waved on the wagons, then turned Hunnul to face the oncoming troops. He had to pause for a moment to draw a deep breath and steady his thoughts. He was growing weary from using magic, and' he didn't want to lose control of the power when the Tarns were bearing down on him. When he was ready, he formed a spell that crackled into the grass before the charging horses. In a blinding flash, the grass burst into towering flames. Horses suddenly screamed in terror and fell back; their riders shouted with fear as a wall of fire rose high above their heads and formed a great circle around them. Smoke billowed up in great blinding clouds.

Valorian, his expression bleak, turned back to follow the caravan, leaving the fire to hold off the Tarns. Another crash mares of thunder from the approaching storm rolled over the hills and the chief hoped fervently that his flames would last long enough to allow the Clan to cross into Sarcithia.

He was pleased to see that the repaired wagons had caught up with the tail end of the caravan. The rear guard was urging everyone and helping the stragglers as best they could, so Valorian galloped Hunnul on past the remaining wagons to the ford.

The scene there was chaotic. The heavy vehicles and men numerous hooves had churned the banks of both sides of the river into knee-deep mud that clung to legs and wagon wheels. Several conveyances were bogged down, and one terrified team was balking and blocking the way for those behind it.

Mordan was trying desperately to bring order to the uproar of cracking whips, squealing animals, and shouting people. He nodded with relief when Valorian came to join him.

Once more the chieftain drew on his power and used a magic spel to help free the mired wagons.

As soon as they were moving again, he and Mordan led the frightened team across the river. Together they sorted out the tangle of vehicles and animals and directed them across until the flow of traffic settled into a steady, reasonably calm crossing to the woods on the other side. Somewhere on the trail ahead, Aiden was leading the wagons deeper into Sarcithia.

At the same time, Valorian kept a cautious eye on the storm clouds fil ing the west and the black, soaring clouds of smoke to the north. He prayed that the wind wouldn't shift and blow the flames toward the caravan and that the storm wouldn't break too soon and put out his fire. As if to taunt him, thunder boomed nearby, and the wind gusted noisily through the trees along the river.

At long last, the final wagon surged into the river. Behind it came the brood mares and their foals, sending sheets of water flying as they trotted across the ford. At the rear of the herd, Gylden waved a weary hand to indicate that these were the last horses to cross. Valorian watched the mares walk up the muddy bank into Sarcithia, and he felt relief like a sudden ease of pain. The Clan was safely across.

Only a moment later, the relief was driven from his thoughts by a flash of lightning and a tremendous crack of thunder, Valorian flinched. Once again he felt that odd surge energy, as if something was increasing the magic around him, but before he had time to think about it, the sky, opened in a deluge of rain.

"Get across!" he bellowed at the rear guard. The spurred their horses into the water, followed closely by Valorian and Mordan. They had just reached the Sarcithian bank when a faint rumble of horses' hooves came to them over the noise of the storm. Valorian half-turned to look and saw that the smoke of his fire was quickly dissipating. The heavy rain was dampening the flames, and the Tarns had apparently broken through.

Valorian and Mordan glanced at one another in weary triumph, then wheeled their horses around to follow the caravan into the woods.

By the time the Tarnish cavalry reached the river, there across the river, there was little sign of the Clan. All they could see were the churned and muddy banks, the empty river, and the trees on to the far side, dripping with rain. Then one man pointed toward the distant forest, and they all saw a large, dark shape, indistinct in the heavy rain, standing in the wind-tossed shadows of the undergrowth. The figure seemed to watch them for a moment before it moved and the Tarns recognized it as a black horse and its rider. There was a flash of lightning overhead, and the rider was gone from sight.

The commander paled. He looked up and down the river as if seeking an answer, but in his own mind he knew General Tyrranis would never forgive him for his failure.

"We could cross over," a young officer suggested.

The commander shook his head with bitter frustration. "General Tyrranis ordered us to stop them before they crossed the river. He said nothing about invading Sarcithia. You know we cannot enter another province under arms without permission from the ruling governor."

"Well, why can't we just slip over there and drive the Clan back into Chadar?" another officer asked.

"Not without General Tyrranis's direct order.

A third man grimaced. "Who are you more afraid of," he muttered under his breath, "Tyrranis or that magic-wielding clansman?"

But Commander Lucius heard him, and the grain of truth in the man's remark stung deeply. "It is our general's responsibility to decide if we break the emperor's law, not mine!" he said harshly. "It is Tyrranis who would have to face the emperor's punishment if Governor Antonine ever found out we chased after the Clan into Sarcithia. I will not be accountable for that!"

The younger Tarn looked appalled as he realized the full import of this fiasco. "But surely the general will understand."

Commander Lucius sagged in his saddle. His eyes followed the muddy trail of the caravan into the trees on the far bank, and he said hol owly, "The general never understands failure."

* * * * *

General Tyrranis closed his fingers tightly around the hilt of the sword at his side. His basilisk eyes burned into the trembling gaze of the commander who was trying to make his report.

The officer was standing in the mud with his back to the river while the last drops of rain fell from the thinning clouds. "He started a fire, sir, that completely surrounded us," he was saying. "We couldn't escape without serious injuries to the men and the horses, and by the time we—"

Before Commander Lucius could finish his sentence, Tyrranis whipped his sword around and brought it slashing into the man's neck. Blood splattered over the general's armor as the commander's head came loose and thudded to the ground. The body remained upright for just a moment, as if it couldn't accept what had happened, then it, too, toppled into the mud and lay twitching at Tyrranis's feet. In an instant, the bloody sword point was poised at the throat of a second officer.

"Tell me something useful so I do not do the same to you!" the general snarled.

The officer held very still, desperation plain in his face. "General, sir! Sar Nitina is not far from here.

With a small honor guard, you could ride there in two days. You could visit Governor Antonine and receive permission for our troops to pass. We could still make it to Wolfeared Pass before the Clan."

"How do you know that is where they are going?" Tyrranis demanded, the bloody sword stil pressed against the officer's neck. Cunning began to glow in his eyes as new possibilities emerged through his anger.

The officer swallowed hard and stared straight ahead, encouraged by the general's slight hesitation.

"They are moving south, sir, and we have heard rumors that Valorian Wants to go to the Ramtharin Plains. Wolfeared Pass is the only pass near here low enough to allow wagons."

Tyrranis's eyes narrowed to slits as he considered the officer's words. The man made sense.

Valorian did seem to be in command of this exodus, so it was quite likely that he was trying to lead the Clan out of the Tarnish Empire. Not that it mattered. They were never going to reach their destination.

That is where Governor Antonine would be useful. Most Provincial governors got very nervous and irritated when a neighboring governor asked to move into their jurisdiction with a large, heavily armed force. Antonine, the governor of Sarcithia, however, was a young, impetuous man who had come to his power through wealth, connections, and bribery. He had no real experience dealing with crises, so it should be possible to talk him into allowing a hunt for the Clan over his province.

The officer beside Tyrranis shot a quick look at the body of his commander lying in the mud nearby before he offered his final bid to save his life. He cleared his throat. "There is also the Twelfth Legion, sir.

It is still stationed in Sar Nitina. If you remember, last winter they received word to remain there to help guard the new borders."

A strange expression, a cross between a snarl and a smile, altered Tyrranis's bloodthirsty grimace.

Slowly he handed his sword to an orderly. "You are the commander now," he said to the officer. "Pick five men to ride with me to Sar Nitina."

The new second-in-command saluted Tyrranis's back as the general whirled and strode to his horse.

He tried to feel relieved and pleased by his reprieve and the unexpected field promotion, but the position of commander under Tyrranis seemed to be dubious at best and definitely not a guarantee of honor and long life. Perhaps he had merely postponed the inevitable.

Leaving the main body of his army camped on the banks of the Bendwater, General Tyrranis and his men rode late into the night through mud and darkness, following the river until they were ready to drop. He al owed them only a short rest before he pushed them on again at dawn. By noon, they had reached a newly paved road called the Tartian Way, one of the roads that united Chadar -and Sarcithia.

The Tartian Way crossed the Bendwater River, then fol owed it south and west. The road eventual y ended in Sar Nitina's huge public square in front of the governor's palace and the barracks of the XIIth Legion.

Sar Nitina was a river port nearly as big as Actigorium, a popular stopping place for pilgrims, and a city of artisans.

While Actigorium was a large agricultural center, Sar Nitina was a resort town catering to tourists, wealthy visitors, and a large stream of pilgrims who came through from all parts of the empire on their way to visit shrines throughout the south.

When the Chadarian governor arrived at the river port city in the afternoon two days later, Governor Antonine met him at the gates of his smal but elegant palace. He noted with a qualm the soldiers' battle armor, their full complement of weapons, and the look of cold determination on Tyrranis's face, but he put on a pleased expression and offered them his hospitality. The knowledge that he himself had a full legion at his beck and call gave him a greater feeling of confidence and generosity, even in the face of an unexpected visit from the infamous General Tyrranis.

The two governors retired to the palace, to a large, airy garden room that Antonine had had built for the pleasure of his numerous mistresses. Servants brought cooled wine, sweet cakes, and fruit for the two men and discreetly retired. Antonine and Tyrranis settled themselves comfortably in a pair of couches to talk and sample the fine wine.

Yet neither of them relaxed. They had never met one another before, and their characters were too different to be compatible. They spent the first part of their visit taking each other's measure.

Tyrranis wasn't impressed by what he saw in Antonine.

The young governor hadn't won his position through ability or service; it had been given to him, along with plenty of intelligent secretaries, aides, and legion officers to help him run the prosperous, peaceful country. The lack of any real effort in his life showed in Antonine's every indolent movement, in his lazy gaze, and in the pudgy roundness of his body. He was a handsome young man, in a soft way, with wavy blond hair, nondescript blue eyes, ful lips, and broad, uncal oused hands. Tyrranis thought to himself that Antonine's hands probably spent more time fondling women than handling a sword.

He drowned out his contempt with friendly politeness and graciously accepted another glass of wine.

"It is such a pleasure to meet you at last," Antonine was saying between bites on a small sugared cake. "But I must admit I was surprised to see you." He lifted an eyebrow inquiringly.

Tyrranis hooded his reptilian eyes under half-closed lids. "You have heard of the Clan?" he asked mildly.

Antonine looked puzzled. "The Clan? Hmmm . . . Oh, you mean that disreputable pack of thieves and herdsmen that hide up in the Bloodiron Hills?" He shrugged. "What do they have to do with a provincial governor leaving his capital and province for an unannounced visit to Sar Nitina?" "They have been causing some trouble," Tyrranis replied, trying not to be irritated by Antonine's question or his bored tone.