“It worked!” he chortled. “The spell worked like a prayer.”
“What spell?” she asked, mystified by his boyish behavior. “What have you been doing?”
“Hunnul! He can talk to me!”
She pulled him to a stop. “What?”
“Well, not exactly talk. But he can send his thoughts to me, and I can understand him. He’s unsure of his words at the moment, but he’ll get better in time, I know it!”
Kierla put her hands on her hips and said, “Valorian, if I didn’t know what you’d already been through, I would think you were sunstruck. Can he talk to me?”
“I don’t know. Come on. We’ll find out.” He pulled her out of the tent to where Hunnul was standing nose deep in a pile of hay. “Hunnul, would you say something to Kierla?” he asked.
The stallion lifted his head, his mouth full of hay. Valorian heard him in his mind say carefully, Good evening, Kierla. I like the way you brush my coat.
“Did you hear that?” Valorian demanded excitedly.
Kierla shook her head. “I didn’t hear anything. He just looked at me.”
“Oh.” Valorian’s excitement receded a little, and yet he was rather relieved. He didn’t really want to share this unique experience for a while or be asked to repeat the spell on other horses. The magic had worked on Hunnul because he and his master were so close. Valorian didn’t think he could accurately perform the spell again on a strange animal.
“Perhaps you can hear him because you worked the magic,” Kierla suggested.
Valorian grinned again. “Perhaps that’s it. He said he likes the way you brush his coat.” The woman stepped up to the big horse and threw her arms around his neck. “Take good care of him,” she whispered to Hunnul.
In complete understanding, the stallion curled his neck around and gently embraced her with his head.
Valorian didn’t have much time after that to go out alone. Summer was coming to the hills with all its heat and flies, keeping the clanspeople busy fattening their herds and engaging in the daily tasks of survival. The weather grew warmer by the day, and with the afternoon heat came scattered thunderstorms.
Valorian found that his dislike for lightning had deepened to a real fear. He flinched every time lightning crackled and thunder boomed, and it was all he could do to stifle a strong urge to run for cover whenever the thunderheads built up to the West. The damage done by his last encounter with the deadly streaks of energy was still too fresh for comfort. Fortunately the sensation of heat within his body had eased enough so he could tolerate the summer temperatures, but full feeling had not yet returned to his right hand.
For a while, though, he didn’t have to use his hand for dangerous or delicate work. Much of the time he was helping Aiden and Gylden breed Hunnul to many of the mares that came into season. Often a stallion was simply allowed to run with the herd of mares and mate as he desired, but the two families didn’t want their herds or some of the Harachan bloodlines mixed, so the men had to supervise every mating. As Valorian watched each mare come to Hunnul, his imagination wondered how many of Hunnul’s traits would be passed on to the foals.
When he wasn’t busy with his own family or horse breeding, Valorian took every opportunity to talk to Gylden’s father and other family members. Gylden’s assessment of their reactions was correct. Some people could hardly wait to leave, while others couldn’t comprehend abandoning their ancestral home of Chadar. Valorian spent days arguing, cajoling, and encouraging everyone who would talk to him until slowly he began to sense they were swaying toward his position. At the first swelling of the summer moon, he knew it was time to move on to another camp. He had said all there was to say to Gylden’s people. It would be up to them to make their decision about whether to join his exodus when the time came.
On a hot summer morning, Valorian’s and Gylden’s families bade farewell, broke camp, and went their separate paths. Valorian and Gylden promised to meet again in the autumn. Then they clasped hands and followed their caravans on to other pastures.
Valorian’s family traveled slowly southeast toward the natural springs called Amara’s Tears. The springs were a popular stopping place for the Clan families, and Valorian hoped to find at least one other group there. They arrived on a sultry evening and made camp by the clear, bubbling springs in the light of a full moon. Valorian was disappointed to see no one else was there, but the feeling didn’t last long.
A few days later, as he was watering Hunnul at one of the stone wells built around the spring pools, the black lifted his head and pricked his ears. The clansman looked to the hills and saw one of the guards lift his horn. A high, ringing note sounded on the wind, bringing the clanspeople running. A second caravan, much larger than Valorian’s, appeared over the rim of a slope to the east, led by a burly, heavily bearded man on a big white horse.
You do not like this man? Hunnul asked in Valorian’s mind.
The clansman started, surprised by the words and the perception behind the question. Although he had shaped the spell that gave Hunnul the power to communicate, Valorian was not yet accustomed to the slow, deep voice that spoke in his head without sound. Hunnul’s use of his new talent was growing every day, and it could be very disconcerting, especially when he was right.
“How did you know?” Valorian asked softly.
Hunnul snorted. I remember this man’s smell. He is sour, and you are not pleased to see him. Your hand has tightened on my mane.
With a chuckle, Valorian released the black hairs and swung onto the stallion’s back. “No, I do not like Karez. He is . . . unpleasant. He is also the leader of the second largest family and someone I must convince if we are to succeed in uniting the Clan. So I will be polite.” In only a matter of moments, Valorian’s good intentions were put to the test.
“Valorian!” Karez’s voice boomed out to span the distance between them. “What in the gods’ names are you doing here?” He guided his horse toward the largest spring and made an angry gesture toward a small herd of goats grazing near the clear, bubbling pool. “Tell your people to move those ragged-looking beasts!” he bellowed without any further greeting.
Resignedly Valorian ordered several boys to move the goats out of Karez’s way, and he watched as the big clansman directed his caravan to the biggest camping area and settled in as if the springs were his alone.
Aiden, his entire demeanor stiff with outrage, came galloping over to where his brother was mounted on Hunnul. “That bullheaded Karez just had his men drive our horses off the east meadow!” he shouted furiously. “He’s moving in his own herd.” Valorian didn’t react. His own anger was tightly clamped by the knowledge that he didn’t dare alienate Karez before he had a chance to talk to the man. He only said grimly, “Karez hasn’t changed much, has he?” Aiden nearly choked. “Aren’t you going to do anything about it?”
“No, and neither are you,” Valorian replied as calmly as possible. “Keep a civil tongue in your head, or I’ll be forced to banish you from the springs.”
The younger warrior slammed his fist on his saddle pommel, but he subsided under Valorian’s ferocious glare and watched sullenly as Karez made himself comfortable under an awning. The other family began to set up their camp. They seemed genuinely pleased to see Valorian’s family, yet they made no attempt to greet the other clanspeople until their work was completed.
“Karez obviously still thinks he’s going to be lord chieftain,” Aiden muttered. “He’s already acting like one.”
Valorian barely nodded. Karez bad made it common knowledge for years that he wanted to be chieftain someday, but he hadn’t yet tried to challenge Lord Fearral or make any serious move to claim the title. He simply made himself obnoxious to everyone by behaving as if the chieftainship were already his.