The four men made camp that night on the southern bank of the Bendwater under an evening sky that was clear and dazzling with stars. When they woke the next morning, the sky had turned to a solid, unmarred roof of gray. A damp, chilly wind stirred restlessly through the brown grass and rattled the bare trees.
Valorian studied the sky worriedly as they packed their gear. Everything under the lowering roof of cloud looked dull gray and cold; it was difficult to see the far horizon to the west and the north, where the land and sky blended together in a dark, dismal haze.
“We’d better look for some real cover today,” Aiden remarked, coming to stand by Valorian.
The tall clansman nodded. There was snow in those clouds, probably a lot of it, and he didn’t want to spend a night out in a storm if he could help it.
The clansmen had already found a suitable ford on the wide, shallow river, so they hurried down to the water, glad to be going back to their own homeland.
Valorian watched the pleasure on his friends’ faces while Hunnul waded through the water. That was the sad incongruity of his dream to leave Chadar. The clanspeople loved their own country. They didn’t want to tear themselves away from a land that had nurtured them for generations. He felt the same way. Given half a chance for survival, he would drop his plans for an exodus in a moment and strive for a better life in Chadar. But it was too late. What most of the clanspeople did not want to accept was that the Tarns had already taken away their homeland. Chadar was no longer home, no matter how deeply the people cared about it. The time had come to move on, just as the clans had done long, long ago when they came out of the west to settle in Chadar. Once again they must follow Amara’s rising sun to the east.
Valorian was so busy mulling over his own thoughts, he didn’t notice Hunnul’s ears suddenly swivel forward or the stallion’s nose test the breeze. They were nearly to the bank on the Chadarian side of the river when Hunnul started to tell him, Master, I think there are. . .
He didn’t get a chance to finish. At that instant, there was a loud yell from a clump of birch trees close to the water, and six Tarnish soldiers sprang out of hiding, their bows drawn and aimed at the riders.
“Stop right there!” their leader ordered.
Valorian cursed inwardly. It was just their luck to run into a border patrol now. He wondered if they could bluff their way past the soldiers. Perhaps these Tarns didn’t realize who he was.
Before he could get a word out, the idea was driven from his mind by the clan war cry. The three men beside him clapped their heels to their horses, yanked out their swords, and charged directly at the six archers. Valorian cursed aloud this time. Tarnish soldiers were good bowmen and unlikely to miss three men riding at them at such short range.
Unbidden, Hunnul leaped after the three. Valorian saw the Tarns take careful aim, and he raised his right hand. The arrows flew from the bows faster than the eye could follow, but Valorian’s spell was just as fast. He flicked his hand, and a gust of wind suddenly swirled between the two groups of men, knocking the arrows in every direction. The surprised Tarns scattered along the bank as Aiden, Gylden, and Ranulf charged into their midst with swords swinging.
Valorian, however, didn’t want a fight now. He wasn’t going to break his vow by killing these six Tarns with magic, and there was nothing to gain by fighting them. “Keep going!” he bellowed to his men as Hunnul galloped up the riverbank, flinging water in all directions. The clansmen reluctantly broke off the attack and raced toward the hills to seek cover, with Hunnul close at their heels.
It took a moment for the startled soldiers to gather their wits, then five of them ran for their horses to give chase to the fleeing clansmen. Only their frustrated leader paused long enough to draw his bow and quickly fire two arrows at the escaping men before turning away to get his mount. He didn’t wait to see where the arrows went.
The powerful composite bow favored by the Tarnish army did its work well. It fired its arrows at a speed faster than a galloping horse, in a perfect trajectory that caught up with the group of clansmen near the end of the long flight. The first arrow fell to the grass. The second, like a slender bird of prey, dropped out of the leaden sky and slammed into Valorian’s back.
The clansman suddenly felt himself knocked forward over Hunnul’s neck from an agonizing pain that burst through his upper back and left shoulder. He grabbed frantically for the black’s mane to keep himself from falling.
Hunnul felt his master’s agony stabbing into his mind. He neighed a stallion’s scream of rage, which brought the other riders’ heads snapping around to see what was happening. Distraught, the big horse slowed down, but Valorian managed to push himself back into the saddle.
“No,” he gasped through clenched teeth. “Keep going.”
Behind him, Hunnul could see the Tarnish patrol galloping their horses up the hill in pursuit. He bared his teeth, stretched out his neck, and ran as he had never run before to put as much ground as possible between his master and the men who had hurt him. He passed Aiden, Gylden, and Ranulf like a black streak.
Aiden barely caught a glimpse of the shaft sticking out of Valorian’s back and the spreading red stain on his cloak when Hunnul flashed by. His heart dropped to his stomach. “Oh, gods!” he cried. “Valorian’s been hit!”
The three men bent frantically over their horses, their bodies molded to the animals’ movements. The Clan-bred horses, raised and trained on the rough terrain of the foothills, sped over the earth with the speed of deer and soon left the Tarns behind. But they couldn’t keep up with Hunnul. The last the three men saw of him was his streaming tail disappearing over a far hill.
“We’ll never catch that horse,” Gylden finally yelled. The Tarns were far behind and out of sight by that time, and the men’s horses were sweating heavily, so they pulled their mounts to a walk and followed Hunnul’s trail through the sparse, dried grass as best they could. The tracks were fairly easy to see, since the gentle hills to the north of the river were treeless and smooth. But it was a nerve-racking search. At any moment, they expected to top a slope and see Valorian’s body lying dead in the grass.
They had only ridden a league or two after. Hunnul when the first snowflakes began to fall in light, swirling patterns. In moments, the fall turned into a blizzard, and the fitful wind that had been blowing took the bit in its teeth and bolted, driving the snow before it in blinding white horizontal sheets. The cold became a vicious, sucking thing that snatched at their breath and stole the heat out of their bodies.
Aiden stared desperately into the snow for some sign of his brother or Hunnul. The tracks were gone in the blinding snow; there was no way to tell where Hunnul had gone. What was the stallion going to do, carry Valorian all the way back to the winter camp? Valorian would bleed to death by that time. Or freeze. His hope sinking, Aiden pulled his hood up over his head and pushed his horse closer to Gylden’s and Ranulf’s mounts. Together they pushed on into the storm.
Far ahead of the three men, Hunnul was racing across the flatter slopes at the edge of the foothills, racing as if ail the gorthlings of Gormoth were on his heels. His eyes were rimmed with white, his nostrils flared wide, and his long black legs were a blur against the brown landscape. Every instinct within the frantic horse told him to go home, to take his master back to the place where there was food and warmth and care. He didn’t know how far it was or how badly Valorian was hurt, he only knew to run north, where help could be found.
Yet something was bothering Hunnul. He felt an unfamiliar nagging sense that something was not right with his actions. There was more to this that he should try to understand. The stallion’s pace began to slow, and he neighed in frustration.
Valorian was lying along Hunnul’s neck, grimly clutching the mane with his right hand. His eyes were screwed shut, and his teeth were clenched against the pain. As the stallion slowed down, Valorian managed to gasp, “We can’t leave them!”