Valorian lifted his hand to the darkening sky and formed a bright blue bolt that shot up into the night sky. The crowd gasped and cried out. Some leaped to their feet, but Valorian had them so captivated with his story that, as he pushed on with the narrative, the people slowly subsided back into their seats.
He told them everything he had the night before of his journey to Ealgoden and the caverns of Gormoth, except this time he continued to use his magic to bring the story to life. Out of the smoke of the torches, he brought the images of the Harbingers and the mighty peak of Ealgoden he showed his people the field of grass in the realm of the dead and the souls who came to greet him. He even heard several exclamations from the crowd when some of the dead faces were recognized. Step by step he led the audience up the side of the mountain and into Gormoth to face the gorthlings. At the sight of the hideous, wizened creatures, some of the women screamed, and even the men looked horrified.
With wide eyes they watched as Valorian fought off the beasts with his magic, passed the lava river, and captured the little gorthling. He repeated each spell he had used to show his watchers how the magic worked and how he had finally attained the cavern of the whirlwind and rescued Amara’s crown. Then he told of the four deities and how Amara had returned him to life with his power intact.
Knowing he had the rapt attention of his people, he went on to explain his vision of a new life for the Clan and why he felt it was the will of the gods that the clanspeople leave Chadar to find the Ramtharin Plains. He formed an image of a wide landscape of grass and rivers and horses running free, then he slowly let it fade. A profound silence filled the bowl.
After several long moments, Gylden stood and asked, “How far is this Wolfeared Pass?”
Like a bee nest hitting the earth, the silence burst with a swarm of questions from every quarter.
“You mean we have to leave Chadar?” a woman cried.
“But what about our herds and the other families?” someone else wanted to know.
“Are you sure the Tarns have left the Ramtharin Plains?”
An older man asked, “What makes you think we can do better there?”
“Why should we leave,” another man demanded. “You have this power from Amara. Make the Tarns leave!”
“What does Lord Fearral say about this?” Gylden’s father shouted over the noise.
The questions buzzed around Valorian, and he tried to answer them all as honestly as he could. By the time the people had subsided into a thoughtful silence, the night was quite late. In ones and twos, they stood and made their way back to camp. .
Valorian watched them go. He wasn’t disturbed by their vociferous reaction, because he knew he had shaken them deeply. Even his own family had been impressed. He could only wait now to see if the seeds he had planted would take root.
“Valorian, I have heard some fabulous tales in the past, but I have never heard one to top the story you told last night.”
Valorian glanced at his friend Gylden, cantering his horse beside Hunnul, then looked back at the three hunting dogs coursing through the grass ahead. He kept his expression unreadable as he asked, “What did you think of my ‘fabulous’ tale?” Gylden was one of his few good friends, and his opinion meant a great deal.
Gylden’s eyes crinkled with merriment. “Either you have one fantastic imagination, or the goddess holds you in her favor. I’m choosing the goddess. It’s probably safer.”
The two men were out hunting together in the early hours. They had decided to go alone, with only the dogs and the horses, so they could talk freely. The morning was partly cloudy and cool, with the hint of rain to come. Valorian was glad to be away from the crowded camps and the curious people for a time.
“What about the rest of your family?” he asked.
Named for his bright gold hair, Gylden pulled thoughtfully on his long mustache. He was a handsome man, or so Kierla liked to say, a hand shorter than Valorian and broader in the chest, with small hands and a ready smile. “I’d follow you in a moment,” he replied. “You know that. But my father respects Lord Fearral and won’t budge without his orders. As for the rest of my family, well, my mother is ready to pack now, my brother wants to know more about the Ramtharin Plains, and my cousin doesn’t know what to think. I imagine the rest of the family, and probably the rest of the Clan, will have the same mixed reactions. You’ve dropped a big, live snake in our laps, Valorian. This may take time.”
“We don’t have much time. I was hoping to cross Wolfeared Pass by autumn.”
“There’s little chance of that. Spring thaw is probably the earliest you’ll get this Clan to make a decision.”
Valorian said nothing, although a pan of him had to reluctantly agree. It would be much safer to get the Clan out of Chadar before winter snows blocked the pass or General Tyrranis got wind of their intentions, but he was beginning to see that uniting the families and getting them to Wolfeared Pass before autumn would be extremely difficult. The only advantage he could see with spending one more winter in the Bloodiron Hills was that the Clan could cross the pass in the spring and have the summer to find a place to live on the plains. If they could keep this secret from the Tarns.
He stifled a sigh of exasperation and went back to watching the dogs. The three big spotted hounds seemed to be on the trail of something. Their tails were whipping with excitement as their noses swept over the ground.
Suddenly one dog bayed. All three instantly leaped after the scent of their quarry, drawing the men after them. Whooping with delight, Valorian and Gylden kicked their horses into a full gallop after the dogs just as a large buck sprang up out of his cover. The deer took one look at the dogs coming toward him and leaped away across a broad field. The big, long-eared deer in these hills were fleet and strong, and the hunters knew the buck could outrun his pursuers given enough lead. The dogs bayed wildly when they saw the deer. They sprang after it, their long, sleek legs bounding over the uneven ground, but they couldn’t catch up with the running buck.
Both men drew their bows. It would take extreme skill and luck to shoot a deer from a galloping horse, yet that was half the fun. Valorian was not “Very accurate at such a long distance, so he pressed his heels into Hunnul’s sides to urge him a little faster. To his astonishment, the black lunged forward as if he had been catapulted. His stride lengthened into a blistering run that carried him over the ground like a projectile, past the startled dogs and right up beside the buck. Valorian held on with all his strength. The ground was a blur beneath Hunnul’s hooves, and the wind of his passing whipped his mane into the man’s face. The big stallion came so close to the fleeing deer that Valorian could have reached out and touched it. Instead, he had the presence of mind to draw his bow and fire an arrow. The deer staggered and fell in the grass with the arrow through his ribs.
Thunderstruck, Valorian eased back in the saddle to slow Hunnul down. The stallion promptly obeyed. He snorted as if in satisfaction and trotted back to the fallen deer, his neck arched and his tail held high. The clansman slid off, quickly pulled off the excited dogs, and slit the throat of the dying deer. When he was finished, he drew a long breath and stood back to stare at his horse.
Gylden came cantering up, his mount in a sweat. “Good gods, Valorian,” he shouted as he jumped off. “What have you been feeding that horse?” Valorian threw up his hands. “Grass!” He was as mystified as Gylden. Hunnul was fast, but he had never shown signs of that much speed.
“Look at him! He’s not even breathing hard.”
Amazed, Valorian ran his hands down Hunnul’s long, powerful legs. Gylden was right. Hunnul was breathing normally, and his legs looked perfectly well. He hadn’t even broken into a sweat. The man studied the black thoughtfully, and his fingers unconsciously traced the white lightning mark on Hunnul’s shoulder.