Valorian (5 page)

Something stirred within him. Valorian felt an odd sensation of power that he had never experienced before suddenly fill his mind and flow through his body. Slowly he raised his right arm and threw his hand forward. To his surprise, the strange power surged. He opened his eyes in time to see a blue bolt pop out of his fingers and shoot across the plain of stone. It wasn't large or dazzling, but it was his, and he watched it with his mouth ajar until it dissipated in the distance.

Amara tilted her head up, looking pleased. "Well done, Valorian. You will learn. "

The clansman bowed to her, his face full of shock, excitement, and success. "Lady Amara, just one question." She nodded once. "Why did you choose me?" he wanted to know. "Surely there are others who are better warriors or who have greater courage than I."

She laughed, a rich, warm sound of affection. "Perhaps there are others, Valorian. But my champion must have every bit as much intel igence as courage. It would not be wise to rush blindly into the gorthlings' lair."

Without warning, the goddess suddenly coalesced into a glowing cloud of brilliant light and scintillating color that rose high over the clansman's head. She glittered in the gray air like a radiant star.

"Wait!" he shouted. "Where do I go? How will I find you again?"

"The Harbingers will take you," Amara's voice called, "and I will find you when the time comes."

Hunnul neighed a ringing farewell.

Valorian watched the glowing cloud soar high in the dul sky, then streak away with the speed of a comet. A mixture of emotions rose in his heart at her leaving, not the least of which was fear. Now that the goddess and her loving comfort were gone, Valorian felt a rush of cold apprehension at what he had agreed to do. No man in his right mind would deliberately volunteer to enter the foul caverns of Ealgoden and hope to escape unscathed. It was impossible. Nevertheless, he had offered to go, and one way or another—even with this strange power of magic—he was going to try to succeed.

He heard again the thundering hooves of the Harbingers' steeds. Like huge white phantoms they rode out of the sky, swift and shining, to come to a neighing, prancing stop in front of the clansman.

This time Valorian reluctantly bowed his head to their summons. Hunnul stepped forward into the midst of the white steeds, and the clansman and his escort rode forward across the plain of stone.

Swifter than storm clouds the Harbingers galloped forth, carrying the black stallion along by the force of their impetus. Almost immediately a wall of dark mist rose up before them; they passed through without pause. Valorian glanced over his shoulder and saw that the plain of stone, whatever and wherever it had been, was gone. He and his escort were plunging through a wal of cloud that was unfathomable and totally lightless. There was no sound other than the faint vibration of the horses'

hooves on air and no light except for a pale, phosphorescent glow emanating from the four Harbingers.

Valorian could just barely make out Hunnul's head in the gloom. The numbing lack of any real sensation began to disorient him, and he locked his eyes on the stallion's flattened ears as a center of focus.

Then, before his mind and eyes had time to adjust, the horses gal oped out of the mist into the realm of the dead. The clansman gasped; his eyes screwed shut in the sudden clear light that assailed him. Hunnul, too, faltered and would have stumbled. if Valorian hadn't automatically shifted his weight to help steady the startled horse. The stal ion jerked to a stop and bobbed his head in confusion.

Valorian had to squint before he very slowly opened his eyes and looked about with wonder. The four Harbingers were still with him, waiting patiently for him to follow them. The dark wall of mist was gone, replaced by what looked like a vast meadow of grass. Far in the distance, he could see a single mountain rising out of the plain like a gigantic sentinel. The light that illuminated the scene shone from the mountain's peak as bright and splendid as the sun of the mortal world. The clansman knew without asking that the mountain was the sacred peak of Ealgoden, where the gods lived in immortal splendor, keeping watch over their people.

Awed, Valorian urged Hunnul forward, and the four Harbingers took their places, two to the front and two behind the clansman. They rode slowly across the vast meadow while Valorian examined and marveled over the unearthly beauty of the place. Never had he seen such a huge, perfectly created plain of grass. It was gently rolling, treeless, and thickly covered with a verdant coat of grass and delicately colored flowers that barely reached Hunnul's hocks. The sky overhead was a vivid azure, and the light from the peak shone warm and mel ow.

The only things missing, Valorian realized, were the wind, insects, animal life, and people. The lack of these things seemed very odd to him, since he was used to the lively meadows of the mortal world.

After a while, the quiet and the emptiness began to bother him. He was about to try asking the silent Harbingers a few questions when a movement caught his eye.

Several people were coming over the crest of a hill off to Valorian's right. They saw him and waved joyful y, their excitement evident even over the distance. One person broke away from the smal group to come running toward him. Valorian realized there was something very familiar about the long-legged stride of the runner. He stared as the person came nearer. Other people were coming toward him now from all directions, men, women, and children, some on foot, a few on horseback, and all waving and calling cheerfully to him. He glanced around at them in growing surprise before looking back again at the person running toward him.

Al at once the runner's dark hair came unbound in long waves, and Valorian recognized who it was—his youngest sister, who had died when she was fourteen. Behind her were their parents, another brother, and their grandparents.

Al had been dead for years, but Valorian hadn't realized until that moment how much he had missed them.

He cantered Hunnul forward to meet them. "Adala!" he cried happily. He was about to jump down to greet her when a small, urgent warning spoke in his ear. Startled, he looked around at the Harbingers, at the air above him, and at the fields nearby. There was no one close enough to have spoken, but the warning remained clear and persistent in his mind. It must be Amara urging him on, he decided, for he knew now that if he dismounted, if he left his horse and his escort to join the throng coming to greet him, he could become enthral ed by the lovely meadow and the happiness of his kinsmen. He could lose his sense of purpose and any chance of helping the goddess, thus unwittingly condemning his world to destruction. Reluctantly but firmly he shifted back into his saddle and let Hunnul continue walking.

"Valorian, you old dog! You've come!" Adala shouted gleefully. Her young, lovely face beamed up at him as she came to jog beside Hunnul. "You have a horse with you, you lucky slug. They must have buried you with honors. And four escorts! Sorh does you great honor. Though I don't know why."

Valorian grinned at her. Adala had always loved to talk. She had always loved to do everything with an exuberant gaiety that lit her every move and expression with fire. She had even loved the vicious little mare that one day slammed her headlong into a tree.

By this time, his father, mother, and baby brother had caught up with him, and other people were crowding around. The whole chattering entourage walked along with the horses, cal ing to him and asking questions.

Valorian looked down at them all and was startled by how many faces he recognized. There were friends, acquaintances, and even a few enemies here, and relatives he knew only by family history. He waved and smiled, but he didn't dismount or stop to meet them.

"Valorian!" a voice boomed over the others. "How are you, lad?"

The clansman nodded with pleasure and saluted the man striding beside Adala. "I am here, Father.

That should say something."

The old man, still looking as robust and hale as the day he tangled fatally with three Tarnish soldiers, laughed and slapped his son on the leg. Valorian felt only a slight sensation. Death had certainly limited his sense of touch.

"Father, do you see this horse?" Adala exclaimed. "Isn't he a beauty? What did you do, Valorian, steal him?"

"Hush, Adala!" her mother shushed the girl. "There wil be time later to talk when he returns from Lord Sorh."

Valorian winced. He had just found this part of his family.

He hated to tell them of his true mission.

Before he could say anything, his father demanded, "Tell me first, Valorian. Two things: How is your brother, and did you fulfill your duty to the Clan before you left?"

Valorian wanted to groan. Leave it to his father to bring up the sore point of his life now. At least he could report the good news first. Maybe he could be gone before his father demanded the rest.

"Aiden was well and happy the last time I saw him. He is about to be married."

"Aiden? He survived unharmed to manhood? Praise Surgart!" his father declared.

Adala snorted indelicately. "That wildcat in a sheep's coat? Married? Poor girl."

Valorian couldn't help but smile. He, too, had often despaired that Adala's twin brother would ever grow up. Aiden had been as wild and reckless as his sister.

"He missed you horribly when you died," Valorian told Adala. "I think some of his deeds came out of his grief."

She quieted for a moment, her shining smile lost in sadness, then she brightened and skipped ahead to Hunnul's head. "At least you're here with us now. May I ride your horse?"

"Perhaps sometime," Valorian replied vaguely. He waved a hand toward the seemingly endless fields of grass. "Is this all there is?"

"My goodness, no," she said. "This is only a small part. The realm of the dead has many places and many more people. You can make of your eternal life what you will."

"Enough chatter, girl," their father said in exasperation. "Valorian, you will not change the subject.

Did you and Kierla produce a son?"

"No." Valorian replied flatly and clamped his jaw shut. He didn't want to continue that discussion.

His father had chosen Kierla as a wife for him when he was barely a man. She had the looks of a good brood mare, the old man had said—long frame, wide hips, ample breasts. She would bring many children to Valorian's tent. Valorian had had his heart set on another, but he took Kierla reluctantly to please his father. To his surprise, marrying her had been the best decision of his life.

The only problem was that she hadn't borne any children.

In the fifteen summers since they had been joined, she had never once been pregnant. Several people had suggested to Valorian that he could turn her out and get a new wife, but he refused. He and Kierla had grown to love one another in a way that transcended the absence of children. Although he knew the lack of babies in her arms was a bitter disappointment to her and that she would leave if he asked, he had never even considered it. Kierla had strengths that sustained them both and a spirit that delighted his heart. It was a shame his father would never understand.

"What?" the old man bellowed. "Why that useless—"

He was interrupted by his wife who put her hand on his arm. "It hardly matters now, my husband.

Let our son pay his homage to Lord Sorh."

As soon as she spoke, Valorian reached out and gently touched her hair. His mother's hair was still as gray as on the day she died, but the face she turned to him was radiant with peace and contentment.

"Mother," he said quietly, "it is possible I will not come back."

"Whyever not?" cried Adala.

His parents looked up with questions in their eyes.

"I go to Gormoth in Ealgoden as Amara's champion to face the gorthlings," he replied.

The entire entourage abruptly fell quiet.

"No, you can't!" breathed Adala finally. Their mother's radiant peace faded to a sickly fear.

"Valorian, don't be a fool!" an uncle shouted. "No mortal can best a gorthling."

His grandfather gestured furiously toward the mountain. "Those creatures are evil, don't you know that? They'l destroy you."

Only his father stared keenly into his face with the piercing gaze of an old, wise eagle. "If Amara chose you," he stated with intensity, "then you must go."

The clansman nodded, his cool blue gaze matching his father's. "The goddess gave me a weapon,"

he said to reassure his parents. "I am not totally defenseless."

The old man clenched his fist. "Then use it wisely, and we wil see you when you return."

"Thank you, Father," Valorian said. It was time to move on. He was afraid that even with Amara's warning ringing in his mind, he would lose himself in the reunion with his family. He waved farewell to his relatives and friends and kicked Hunnul into a canter. The four silent Harbingers moved with him.

"Surgart go with you, Brother," Adala cried, waving frantically.

"And Amara, too," bellowed his father.

All too quickly the crowd of well wishers was left behind on the green fields, and Valorian rode on alone with his escort. Ahead of him, the meadow stretched on in gentle, unbroken waves to lap against the feet of the sacred mountain that rose in solitary splendor to meet the sky.

Even from a distance, Valorian could see that the peak was bigger by far than any puny mountain in the mortal world. Its gigantic gray--black ramparts dominated the realm around it; its massive, jagged crags thrust high into the rarefied air. A veil of cloud and mist hid the upper reaches of the peak where the gods and goddesses resided, but the eternal light at the summit burned clear and bright.

As Valorian and Hunnul drew closer to the mountain, the clansman noticed that they were following a faint path in the grass. The trail ran straight and true to the mountain's slope and shimmered with its own pale luminescence in the sacred light. He knew they were riding one of the many paths of the dead that led to the throne of Sorh. He studied the path worriedly and wondered how he was going to get away to begin his search for an entrance into Gormoth. The Harbingers weren't going to let him simply wander off, nor did he think he could escape from them. On the other hand, Valorian didn't relish going to the court of Lord Sorh.