Valorian dismounted to meet his brother and was nearly knocked off his feet by Aiden’s fierce hug.
“By all the gods, Brother!” Aiden cried joyfully. “We thought you were in the realm of the dead!”
A strange spasm passed over Valorian’s face and was gone, but not before Aiden’s quick eyes noticed it. He held his older brother at arm’s length, studying the man’s pale skin, the huge bruise, and his filthy, travel-stained clothes.
“You look horrible. What happened to you, Valorian?” Aiden asked, the worry strong in his voice. “We searched the hills for days. Some of the men are still out looking for you. Where were you?”
Valorian smiled ruefully. He pulled his brother dose again, as if to draw on Aiden’s vibrant energy. It felt good to hug another human being at that moment. “I . . . I don’t know where I’ve been.” He gripped Aiden’s arm to silence the flood of questions. “I’ll tell you everything I can when we reach camp so I won’t have to repeat myself.”
Aiden jerked his head in agreement. “At least you’re back.” His voice suddenly choked in his throat, and he’ turned away to mount his horse.
Together the men rode side by side along the grassy hills toward the wide mouth of the valley.
“Is Kierla all right?” Valorian asked after a moment of silence.
“As well as can be expected. She’s hardly eaten or slept for eight days,” Aiden replied. “That’s some woman you have, Valorian. She wouldn’t let any of us give up on you. She sent all of us out in search parties and went out herself for several days. No one could even breathe the possibility of your death in her presence.”
Valorian felt his heart begin a slow pound. He could hardly wait to see his wife. He wanted to feel her warmth, to see her eyes sparkling at him, and to rely on her wisdom when he told her of his journey. Perhaps she could help him understand the accident that had befallen him and the strange dream that had taken root in his memory. He straightened a little more in his saddle, and Hunnul, feeling his master’s cue, walked faster.
They rode down to the shallow stream that flowed out between the bluffs and turned onto a narrow, barely visible path that followed the creek into the valley.
As Aiden rode in front to lead the way, Valorian became aware for the first time that his brother was wearing the split—leg robes, soft leather shoes, and vest of a Chadarian. He also had two baby goats tied in burlap bags behind his saddle, their heads peeking out of the rough fabric.
“Aiden, what have you been doing?” Valorian demanded. “Stealing again?”
Trying to look insulted, Aiden turned in the saddle. “I have not! Not this time. I went as a legitimate trader to sell some of Linna’s rugs and hear the latest news.”
“In Chadarian clothes?”
Aiden snorted irritably. “You know those Chadarian merchants won’t give a clansman a fair deal.”
Valorian stifled a grunt of annoyance. It did no good to talk to Aiden about his actions, because he never listened. He was stubborn, willful, and too intelligent for his own good.
One of his greatest pleasures was going to the Chadarian capital, Actigorium, in disguise to gather news and to barter, trade, or steal anything he could get from the Chadarians or the Tarns. It was dangerous work, for if the Tarnish soldiers ever caught him in any suspicious activity, they would whip him to death and hang his body on the main wall of the city.
The problem was that Aiden was very good at his work. He spoke fluent Chadarian, could dissemble with the best, and was skilled at disguises. He was also very successful. He had saved the family several times from surprise visits from Tyrranis’s tax collectors and had brought back many items from the city market that the clanspeople couldn’t make themselves.
Valorian couldn’t understand Aiden’s attraction to the city. He himself hated the crowds of people, the narrow streets, and the constant noise, yet he couldn’t help but respect his brother’s daring. .
“What are the goats for?” Valorian asked, deciding to change the subject.
“Linna wants them. They’re supposed to have very soft, long wool when they grow up. She wants to try the wool in her weaving.”
Even through the disgust in his voice at having to haul goats, Valorian could hear the pride in Aiden’s voice. Linna, his betrothed, was the finest weaver in the Clan.
Aiden half-turned in his saddle and said, “I also heard that Sergius may pay us a visit in a few days. It seems we’re behind on our tribute to General Tyrranis.”
Valorian stifled a groan. The last thing he wanted to do now was argue with Sergius Valentius over taxes the family couldn’t pay.
They rode on quietly for a while, deeper and deeper into the hills. Gradually the valley narrowed as the surrounding hills rose high above them. Relieved to be almost home, Valorian savored the familiar landscape as never before. Usually” he merely tolerated the rocky confines of the valley. It was cold and damp in the winter, it had too many trees and not enough meadows for the horses, the ground was mostly stone, and the high hills made him uncomfortable. On the other hand, it afforded an excellent shelter from the winter winds, and so far it had protected them well from the Tarns.
It wouldn’t be long, though, before the family moved on.
After the last of the spring crop of stock animals was born, the family would celebrate the Birthright, the festival of thanksgiving to Amara, then they would pack their tents, gather the herds, and move higher into the mountains to the summer pastures.
Their move could be sooner than he imagined, Valorian surmised, for spring had advanced far into the hills while he was gone. The snow had vanished from the valley during the long days of rain, and the warm sun had brought out a thick carpet of green grasses, herbs, and vines. Wildflowers in delicate colors of white, blue, and pink popped out in every sunny patch of earth.
Not far ahead, Valorian could see where the creek took a sharp turn to the right around a rocky promontory. Behind it, the valley widened into an oval—shaped meadow that was fairly flat and grassy. There, Valorian knew, were the tents of the extended family group that called him their nominal leader.
He was so pleased by the prospect of being almost home, he missed Aiden’s look of suspicion at the promontory as they passed.
“Ranulf is supposed to be on guard duty,” Aiden snapped, startling Valorian out of his reverie. “If he’s asleep again, I’ll slit his gut.”
Valorian shot a look at the place on the high point where a guard usually stayed, but there was no sign of one. He frowned. Every Clan camp stationed guards to protect itself from unwelcome visitors or surprise attacks. One unwary guard could mean disaster.
The two riders hurried on along the trail past the promontory and through a copse of tall pines. The path rose up a low slope, then dipped down again to the valley floor and the wide, grassy meadow. Valorian and Aiden went as far as the top of the slope before they stopped and looked down on the camp.
At first glance, the valley looked normal. A few horses grazed peacefully at the far eastern end where the grass was the thickest. Some goats and sheep were being herded by several small boys to the stream that tumbled beside the sheer slopes of the northern wall. The camp itself lay quietly in the sunshine, just below the riders’ positions.
Valorian’s hand edged to his sword and silently drew it. Something was wrong. He could sense it. The camp was too quiet. There was no sign of anyone among the tents or by the central fire, and the surrounding area was strangely empty.
“Where is everyone?” he murmured.
Aiden didn’t hear him. “What did that?” he asked incredulously and pointed to Valorian’s sword.
The clansman glanced at his blade, then stared at it in amazement. He had had no reason to draw it on the journey home and hadn’t looked at it since that rainy afternoon on the ridge.