Valorian (35 page)

In the bloodied mess of Mordan's torn tunic was an arrow lodged between his ribs.

Valorian felt sick. Mordan's lids were open, his eyes dark pools against his deathly white skin. He was breathing in shallow, rapid breaths, and his hands were clenched against the pain. He saw his chieftain and attempted a feeble smile.

Very carefully Valorian used his dagger to cut away part of Mordan's tunic. He probed the edges of the ugly wound and studied Mordan's face. Usual y an arrow buried in a clansman's chest spelled death.

The clanspeople had very simple surgical practices and only herbal medicines. Removing the shaft and barb would kill him as quickly as leaving it in his chest.

But Valorian's hopes rose a little as he examined the muscular warrior. He didn't think the barb had pierced Mordan's lung or heart, for there was no blood on his lips and his pallor wasn't gray with approaching death. Perhaps, with magic, he would be able to help his friend. He could not heal; he could only remove. But maybe that would be enough to give Mordan a fighting chance to live.

Gently Valorian touched a finger to the red-dyed feathers.

Mordan stared up at him, totally trusting. There was a pause while Valorian concentrated, then a brief word and the arrow vanished, shaft and all, into mist, leaving only the wound of its entry.

Mordan's fingers slowly uncurled. "You have a habit of disappointing the Harbingers," he whispered gratefully.

"They can argue with Amara," Valorian said, hiding his own intense relief behind the task of bandaging the bleeding wound. He clasped Mordan's shoulder and was about to leave him when the warrior's hand clamped on his arm.

"Lord," Mordan said, his voice hoarse with worry and pain. "That was only a small force trying to slow us down. They knew we were coming. Look to the rear!"

Valorian jumped to his feet with a sudden jolt of apprehension. Mordan's words made too much sense. The caravan, stopped in place, was open and vulnerable to attack, and it wound down the val ey for a long way through trees and open spaces, making it impossible for Valorian to see the end of it. If the attack on the vanguard was meant to stop the train of wagons, then it was likely that the rear was in danger, too. A powerful sense of urgency boiled up inside him.

He whistled for Hunnul. "See you at the pass," he said softly to Mordan and jumped from the wagon to Hunnul's back. He shouted to his brother, "Aiden, get the caravan moving now! Get them to the pass!" and he was gone, racing along the file of wagons toward the rear.

"Get moving! Go, go!" he yel ed to the Clan drivers as Hunnul gal oped by. "Don't stop. Keep going!"

He and the stallion were halfway back along the length of the caravan when the frantic blast of the rear guard's signal horn sounded through the valley, followed almost immediately by Tarnish legion horns signaling the attack. Fear swept up the stalled wagons. The drivers, already nervous and tense from the ambush in front, began jostling their vehicles and teams and shouting at one another. The drovers pushed their herds into motion again.

Perhaps thirty mounted men and boys riding beside the wagons saw Valorian racing back toward the rear guard and rode after him to help. Screaming broke out from the end of the train of vehicles, mingled with the clash of weapons.

Hunnul plunged into a patch of trees and out the other side in two strides, just in time to see the warriors in the rear guard close into hand-to-hand fighting with a troop of Tarnish cavalry wearing the crescent moon of the IVth Legion. The men were too close together for Valorian to use his magic, so he slowed Hunnul just long enough for the other riders to catch up with him. Then he drew his sword and shouted a piercing war cry. The small force of clansmen charged into the skirmish.

Hunnul plunged into the midst of the Tarnish horsemen with hooves kicking and teeth snapping.

Valorian fought with desperation and cold anger, laying about him with his black sword as if every man who faced him were Tyrranis himself.

Shouts of rage, cries of pain, and the deafening clash of iron on iron filled his ears. The clansmen around him were fighting like wolves with every weapon they could lay their hands on. They weren't as well trained or armed as the legionnaires, but they stood to lose everything if they failed. Every clansmen knew there would be no surrender.

Valorian parried a heavy blow at his head from a beefy Tarnish officer, avoided a second blow, and swiftly jabbed his blade at the unprotected spot between the man's jaw and his breastplate. Blood spurted from the wound, and the Tarn toppled from his horse. Hunnul pushed forward through the struggling mass of horses and men.

"For Surgart and Amara!" Valorian yelled over the uproar, and his men, hearing his rally cry, responded with yel s of their own.

Slowly the Tarns began to give way before the ferocious defense of the Clan warriors. The soldiers had expected to meet weak, cowardly clansmen who would flee at the first strong attack. They weren't prepared for the fierce-eyed men and boys who fought back with a strength born of desperation.

Suddenly the melee seemed to lurch as the Tarns hesitated. "Withdraw!" a soldier yelled, and the Tarns broke off, turned their horses, and galloped away, leaving the clansmen gasping in relief. The beleaguered rear guard raised a cheer when they saw the legionnaires fleeing back down the val ey.

"Lord Valorian, you're a welcome sight," called one of the warriors with a tired grin.

The chieftain hung on to Hunnul, who was prancing in excited circles, and asked, "What happened here?"

"They came out of those woods up there," the warrior responded, and he pointed to a large strip of trees growing along the edge of the val ey. "Just as we passed by, they charged out at us. There must have been almost a hundred of them! If you hadn't come when you did, they would have overrun us for sure."

"Did you see General Tyrranis with them?"

The man shook his head. "No."

Valorian stared worriedly down the valley where the Tarns had disappeared. If there had been about one hundred soldiers in the front ambush and the same number in the rear, where was the rest of the garrison? Where was Tyrranis? The general would never let the Clan get away this easily!

The chief swiftly urged his men to the task of gathering their dead and wounded and loading them into the back wagons. At last the tail end of the caravan began to move again, and the rear guard fell in behind it. More mounted men from the caravan rode back to join Valorian until there were over one hundred men, boys, and a few women of all ages gathered in ragged ranks behind the wagons.

There was now a strong body of men in the vanguard with Aiden and a larger force in the rear with Valorian. The chieftain hoped against all odds that that would suffice.

There simply weren't enough fighting men to ring the entire caravan. On the other hand, he didn't think they had to worry about an assault in the middle of the line of wagons.

If one had been planned to coincide with the ambushes at the head and rear, it would have occurred by now. The valley itself protected them, too, for with its river, it was too narrow to allow a large force to move up unopposed and attack the center. He thought Tyrranis had probably planned the ambushes to stop the caravan so the larger remaining force could sweep up and overwhelm it. But his plan hadn't worked, and now the Clan was on the move again.

Valorian glanced back over his shoulder and wondered what Tyrranis would try next.

He didn't have to wait long to find out. The Clan passed the place of the first ambush without any more trouble. Disregarding the dead and wounded Tarns, they traveled on as quickly as the rough terrain would al ow. They had only gone a short distance up the trail, though, when a shout brought the rear guard whirling around. One of the warriors pointed down the val ey, and everyone saw the ful remaining forces of the Chadarian garrison coming into sight along the crest of a low slope near the river. Red pennons fluttered on their spears, and their armor sparkled in the afternoon sun.

As the Clan warriors watched, the Tarnish cavalry wheeled into position, forming seven widely spaced lines that stretched from the river to the high valley walls. Valorian felt his apprehension grow.

The soldiers seemed to be trying something different in hopes of thwarting his power. Their ranks were much thinner and farther apart than usual, perhaps to prevent him from focusing his spel s on a single mass.

To his dismay, they were right. His power was great, but he was only one man facing hundreds, and his strength and concentration were limited by his body's weaknesses. If the Tarns were determined enough and could distract or kill him, they could easily sweep over the entire caravan.

Valorian's mouth went dry. Slowly he sheathed his sword and tried to calm himself so he could think clearly. Under his breath, he said a prayer to all four deities to watch over the Clan. The Harbingers had already been busy in this val ey today, and he didn't want to give them more to do. He glanced at his companions and saw that they were all as nervous as he. He recognized, with a start of surprise, Karez sitting on his big white horse in the rank just behind him. The big clansman must have joined them just a few moments before. Valorian felt uneasy under the uncharitable thought that perhaps he ought to watch his back, also.

Karez noticed his chieftain looking at him and he grinned, his teeth flashing in his dark beard. As if he guessed what Valorian was thinking, he waved his sword at the enemy.

Just then, the Tarnish trumpets blew the charge. The blaring notes soared through the val ey, accompanied by a great shout and the sudden thunder of hoof beats.

The clansmen automatically surged forward, but Valorian called them back. "Hold your places!" He held on to Hunnul's mane as the stallion half-reared and leapt forward to the front of the meager Clan lines.

The caravan behind them rumbled on up the trail, faster and faster. The herds of horses and stock animals broke into panicked flight.

The Tarnish charge approached at a terrifying speed. Their lines grew ragged as the horses galloped over the uneven terrain. There was another loud blast from their horns, and the horsemen's spears lowered in unison, point first toward the waiting rear guard.

Valorian took only a moment to wonder where General Tyrranis was before he lifted his hands and launched his first attack. He fired six large spheres of blue energy in rapid succession, spaced out along the lines of galloping horses. The fusillade landed with terrible force among the riders. Explosions rocked the ground and blew dirt and rocks in all directions, frightening some horses and knocking others off their feet.

But it wasn't enough. The Tarns were expecting the magical bombardment, and they continued their charge.

Valorian hesitated while he racked his mind for another idea. He didn't want to try a fire again since the line of soldiers was too long and the wind was blowing up the val ey from the east. Nor could he use another rockslide over an area so large. He needed a new tactic.

Suddenly a possibility intruded into his thoughts that seemed so .crazy he decided to try it. He couldn't create life, but he could create the image of life, as he had done when he told the story of his journey into Gormoth. He would use the same sort of image, only make it larger and see how brave the Tarns really were.

He closed his eyes to remember the small, ugly forms of the gorthlings and shaped the spell in his mind. Using dust and bits of gravel, dirt, and leaves to give his image substance, he molded the magic into a gigantic animated form. He knew it had worked when he heard his own men yell in fright.

The chieftain opened his eyes and surprised even himself with the huge realistic creature that now stood between the charging Tarns and the Clan. It was fearsome! A monstrous, bestial figure of a gorthling that towered above the nearby trees and blocked the valley trail. The Tarnish cavalry saw it and brought their horses to a rearing, sliding stop.

It was difficult to tell the creature wasn't solid and could do no real damage, but before the horrified Tarns could realize that, Valorian set his creature into motion. It screeched terribly and reached out as if to grab the horses. The Tarnish lines disintegrated. Horses bolted in panic, taking their riders with them. Other soldiers yanked their mounts around and fled from the hideous monster back the way they had come.

"Stay put!" Valorian shouted to his own men. "The beast is only an image."

The clansmen stared from him to the creature in amazement, their eyes popping, yet they stayed in rank.

"Now back away slowly," he ordered and gestured to them to fol ow the caravan. They went gratefully. Valorian stayed where he was to maintain the image of the giant gorthling for as long as he could.

At the same time, on an overlook in the valley downriver, General Tyrranis and Governor Antonine watched the retreat of the Chadarian garrison with very different emotions. Tyrranis was rigid with anger at the cowardice and foolishness of his men.

Antonine was so shocked at this second display of magical power that he could hardly contain his rage and fear. He rounded on Tyrranis, his intense dismay momentarily blocking out his fear and hatred of the general. "Why didn't you tell me of this magic-wielding clansman?" he screamed at Tyrranis. "We cannot defeat a sorcerer of such power! We should have let them go. This whole journey was a waste. I will not allow my legion—"

He got no further. Tyrranis's hand lashed out and caught the young governor across the right cheek and nose, nearly knocking him from the saddle.

"Silence, you fool!" hissed Tyrranis. "His power isn't invincible."

Antonine glared ferociously and mopped the blood from his nose with a scented handkerchief. He was furious not only at the Chadarian governor, but at himself as well for not daring to retaliate. A stronger man wouldn't have stood for such a personal insult. "Not invincible!" he repeated, hiding his anger behind incredulity. "Look at that creature he has summoned. None of our soldiers will go past that,”

Tyrranis scoffed. "It's a fake, an image. Magic cannot create life. Look at it carefully. You can see light through it."