“I’ve worked an afternoon on that spell,” he said, his pride shining on his face. “What do you think?”
She tasted one. “It’s delicious!” she gasped. “Can you do that again?”
He nodded.
“Into anything?”
“Anything I can visualize.”
Her wide-mouthed smile burst open like a flower. “We won’t ever have to worry about starving now!” she cried. She grabbed the bowl of grapes and raced off to share them with the rest of the family.
Pleased at her reaction, Valorian followed and spent the rest of the evening transforming mounds of rocks into all the grapes the family could eat.
The family’s pride and awe in Valorian doubled after that night. Unfortunately, so did their demands on his time. Nearly everyone besieged him with requests for his magic until he wore himself into exhaustion trying to help.
Finally Kierla gathered the family members and made them promise to save their requests for emergencies. Valorian, for his part, explained exactly what he could and could not do and described the consequences if he let his power get out of control. His talent was still limited, he told them, and he didn’t want to overextend himself.
He looked around at the circle of faces, at the children, at the old people, at his and Kierla’s aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, in-laws, and friends—at all the people who were dear to him—and he made them the promise he had been thinking about since the murder of Sergius.
“I vow to you,” he said loudly so everyone could plainly hear, “that I will never use my power against the people of this Clan, nor will I use the killing blasts against our enemies.”
A murmur of surprise arose, and Valorian held up his hand for quiet.
“I believe this ability to wield magic was given to me for a good purpose. I will not abuse it! It is not for wanton destruction and murder.”
“What about self-defense?” Aiden called out.
Drawing his sword, Valorian hefted it so they could all see the blackened blade. “If I cannot defend myself against mere Tarns, I am not worthy of Amara’s trust.”
His relatives cheered, and after that evening, their requests for his magic virtually stopped. Valorian was a man of his word, and no one wanted to incur his wrath.
Several nights later the entire camp was awakened by Mother Willa’s joyful cry. The last foal had been born alive and well, and now the family could get ready for the Birthright celebration. For two days, the men and women hunted and gathered food for the feast and made the necessary preparations for the religious ceremonies.
The Birthright was an important celebration in the’ lives of the clanspeople. It was their gift of gratitude to the goddess Amara for all her blessings, and a supplication to her for the continued fertility and well—being of the animals and people for the coming year. Hoping to take advantage of Amara’s attention, most betrothed couples were joined during the Birthright, and pregnant women were blessed.
The ceremony itself occurred at dawn beside a running stream. Water was a symbol of fertility and the never ending flow of life, and it played a major role in the rites. Men, women, and children gathered at first light to the beat of a solitary drum, then proceeded with chanting and songs to the bank of a nearby creek. There the priestess of Amara began her ritual of prayers to the goddess as the sun slowly lifted from behind the mountains.
When the great orb crested the peaks and sent its light pouring onto the meadow, the clanspeople cheered wildly. They made their offerings of milk and flowers and honey into the water, which they believed the stream would carry to the goddess. Next an unblemished lamb was brought forth. Amid the prayers of the people, the priestess drowned the lamb and slit its throat to let its life’s blood flow on the waters. Its small body would .be roasted and the sacred flesh given to the newly wedded couples to ensure the success of their marriage beds.
When the rites of thanksgiving were over, two betrothed couples came forth to be joined. Valorian watched with pleasure as Aiden and Linna took their vows. He wished Adala could have been there to see the joy on their faces. He thought his mother would have liked Linna. Linna was a strong woman who would stand up to Aiden’s willful charm, and he obviously adored her.
Mother Willa stepped forward after the joining to call the names of the pregnant women to come forward to be blessed. Five women left the onlookers and came to kneel before the priestess. When Kierla went proudly to join the others, her face was radiant with joy. She didn’t see the stunned looks on the faces of her people or the eyes that swiveled from her to her husband.
“Praise to Amara!” an aunt cried, and the shout was taken up by everyone.
By the time the day’s religious celebrations were over, the afternoon was well advanced and the clanspeople were ready to eat. The food was brought forth in great abundance to represent the bounty the people hoped for in the year to come. They feasted and danced late into the night to the music of pipes and drums, until even the strongest young men and women were happily exhausted.
The celebration of birth was now over. Summer was working its way into the mountains with its hot days and short nights, and the season of nurturing was about to begin. The sleepy clanspeople rose at dawn, gathered their herds, and broke camp. In the cycle of life they had followed for generations on the lowlands, they would spend the summer visiting other families and moving their herds from pasture to pasture to fatten them for the winter to come.
Valorian watched from Hunnul’s back as the carts and horses began to leave Black Rock to take the trail to the west. He was planning to visit the camp of his friend Gylden, who had long been receptive to the idea of abandoning Chadar. If all went well this summer, they would never again need to seek this high pasture. Valorian took a last look around at the meadow that had served them well, then he kneed Hunnul into a trot and, without a backward glance, left Black Rock behind.
8
“Our lady goddess stood before me and raised her arms,” Valorian said to the listening crowd. He copied the gesture for emphasis. “She cried, ‘By the power of the lightning that brought you here, I name you magic-wielder!’ At that moment, she threw a bolt of lightning directly at my chest.”
The crowd oohed with excitement.
Pausing, Valorian looked all around at the large circle of spellbound faces. They were sitting in a natural amphitheater near the camp of his friend Gylden. Valorian’s family had arrived three days before to a happy welcome, and already there had been one betrothal, two fights, some trading, and countless horse races—a typical visit for clanspeople.
What had not been typical was Valorian’s tale. He had told it once already, and Gylden’s family had enjoyed it so much they had besieged him to tell it again. Valorian knew not many of his listeners believed the story was true, and he could understand how they felt. The tale was rather incredible! So he intended to tell it as often as he had to until the entire Clan believed. That evening, though, he had a surprise for his audience.
“The bolt didn’t hurt,” he continued. “Instead, it tingled and warmed and strengthened every part of me. I saw a blue aura covering me like a cloak, and I asked, ‘What is it?’ Lady Amara told me that I now had the power to wield magic.”
Murmuring voices filled the bowl, and Valorian smiled at their disbelief. “ ‘Magic,’ I said. ‘There is no such thing,’ but the goddess explained that there is an ancient power of magic in all the world around us and that I now had the ability to use that power. ‘The magic is here, clansman. Concentrate,’ she said to me. So I closed my eyes, focused my will on this strange power I felt and. . .”