Gabria gritted her teeth and clung to Nara. It took all her concentration to stay mounted against the jolting violence of the Hunnuli’s gallop. She would find out soon enough what this place was and who wanted to see her.
Nara continued to run ever higher up the steep, rocky valleys, through forests of pines and dark spruce, and around thickets of heavy underbrush. She plunged over rock falls, raced past high alpine meadows where deer grazed, and galloped over the rough clearings left by avalanches or forest fires. The dry winter was especially evident this high in the mountains. There was only a few feet of snow where normally the drifts would have stood over Gabria’s head. Nara was able to find her way through the low patches of snow without much difficulty.
By dawn they were high in the mountains, nearing the twin peaks of Wolf eared Pass. There were fewer trees on the upper slopes, and the undergrowth was thin and sparse. Nara finally slowed to a trot. Her breath came hard and fast, vaporizing into clouds in the cold, thin air. Her body was steaming from her efforts.
Gabria patted the horse’s neck. She was worried, for Nara should not be running like this in her condition. Wherever we are going, she thought, it is important enough to Nara to endanger herself and her unborn foal.
We are close now, Nara told her.
The sorceress sighed with relief. She was surprised to see the early morning creep into the mountains with a soft light that dimmed the stars and revealed the peaks’ rugged faces.
Nara struggled up a rocky incline, past a few stunted pines and clusters of boulders, to the edge of a broad plateau. There she stopped and snorted in satisfaction.
Mystified, Gabria looked about. The plateau lay like a huge plate on the side of the northernmost of the two peaks, its bare, flat ground swept clear of heavy snow. It seemed empty at first, and Gabria asked curiously, “This is it?”
Nara lifted her head to the peaks. Gabria followed her gaze and saw the distant pass that cut between the two pinnacles.
The Wheel is here. Go see. They will come soon.
“Who are ‘they?’” Gabria demanded.
Nara did not respond. She remained gazing at the peaks as if waiting for something to appear. Her ears were perked, and her nostrils flared in the cold air.
Gabria shook her head and slid off the mare’s back. Her legs and hands were stiff from clinging to Nara; it felt good to stretch her muscles and walk on her own feet. She took a deep breath of mountain air, savoring the sharp, rich smells of frost and alpine trees. For a moment she stood at the edge of the plateau and looked down to where the land fell away into the rugged highlands of the Darkhorns. Her eyes followed the land downward over the slopes as the sun rose higher and spread its light over the distant plains below. The endless leagues of the Ramtharin Plains were slowly revealed to Gabria in lightening hues of indigo, purple, and lavender. From her high promontory she could look far to the east, where the grasslands of her people rolled beyond the horizon.
A smile lit Gabria’s face. It was no wonder Valorian’s people had looked down on those lands and rejoiced. The plains were vast and beautiful and held everything the clanspeople needed to survive. Whatever they had left behind could not have compared to the grasslands.
Gabria turned away from the edge and studied the big plateau around her. At first glance it seemed strangely empty.
There were no trees or shrubs or large boulders to break up the tableau, only a few scrubby, tough plants and some blotches of lichen on the flat ground. The only thing that caught her interest was a low pile of rocks lying in the center of the plateau.
She was perhaps thirty paces away from the pile when she saw something else. On the ground in front of her were two lines of smooth, round, grayish stones. One line curved away to the right and left in a huge arch; the second line intersected the first and ran directly to the pile of rocks.
Gabria followed the straight line of stones to the rock pile.
She saw immediately that the pile was a cairn, carefully shaped into a circle about two paces across and as high as a horse’s knees. Radiating out from the cairn were other equally spaced lines of stones. Gabria followed a second line out; the curved trail of stones circled the cairn and united each straight line into—Gabria nodded her head—into the shape of a giant wheel. She walked around the entire circumference of the huge design, marveling in the perfect curve of the circle and in the arrow-straight lines of the spokes. It was a remarkable creation.
If this is Valorian’s Wheel, Gabria thought, it has to be over five hundred years old. Despite weathering and time, the Wheel was in very good condition.
She shook her head in wonder at the dream behind the Wheel. Lord Valorian was a man known to many civilizations, for tales of his deeds had spread far beyond the limits of the plains. He was a hero-warrior and a chieftain, a man believed to be half-god. He traveled to Sorh in the realm of the dead to fight the gorthlings for Amara’s crown; he bred the Hunnuli from his own stallion and taught them to communicate with magic-wielders; he was the first human to tap into the powers of magic, and he led his people out of the miseries of their old land to a new home beyond the mountains. After his death, his twelve sons spread out across their new land and formed the twelve clans of Valorian, preserving their father’s heritage and passing on the talent to wield magic.
Gabria smiled and thought Valorian might be pleased to find one of his descendants had come back to see his wheel.
Without warning Nara neighed a cry of welcome. They Come! she trumpeted.
Gabria turned in astonishment. She had never heard Nara sound so joyful. Her eyes followed the horse’s gaze to the high pass where the light of morning was streaming onto the mountain face. A herd of dark horses galloped down between the peaks, their manes flying and their tails raised like royal banners. Snow flew from their hooves, and the thunder of their coming rumbled over the plateau.
With the sun reflecting off the rocks and the snow, it was difficult for Gabria to clearly see the horses; then she rocked back in astonishment. She clambered up to the top of the cairn for a better view. As they drew closer, she recognized them immediately, for the horses were huge and black. They were all Hunnuli.
They galloped onto the plateau where Nara pranced to join them, and the entire herd neighed their welcome to the mare and the woman. They flowed into a circle around Gabria, following the curve of the wheel.
She tried to count them, but there were too many and they raced by her in a boisterous, wild run. Their black coats gleamed in the sunlight, and a blazon of white lightning marked each horse at the shoulder. Her mouth slightly open, Gabria stared at the magnificent mares and stallions. Her heart sang with their delight.
At last the Hunnuli slowed down and stopped. They wheeled to face the woman, their breath billowing in clouds around them. A stallion broke away from the ring, trotted forward, and nodded his head to Gabria.
He was huge. Even on the cairn of stones, the woman’s head barely reached his nose. She realized immediately he was the King Stallion. His great strength was molded in the muscles of his neck and legs; his eyes glowed with a deep, abiding wisdom. White hairs of age covered his muzzle, yet his step was powerful. A regal courage showed in his every movement and toss of his head.
We greet you, Sorceress, he told Gabria. The stallions thoughts to her were proud but kind.
She swept back her cloak and bowed low to the majestic horse.
We have waited a long time for the magic-wielders to return, he continued. The Hunnuli were bred and born to be the companions of humans with the ability to use the powers of magic wisely. We have missed them. You are the first in a long time to return to the arts. For that we are greatly pleased.