Hunnul came to a complete stop. He knew Valorian meant their companions, and as he thought about them, he slowly came to understand what was wrong. His horse instincts had told him to go home, but the greater wisdom and understanding of humans that Valorian had given him helped him to see that he shouldn’t leave Valorian’s companions behind. They were much closer than the family camp. They would have the knowledge and ability that he did not to heal his rider. As quickly as he had raced north, the big black turned on his heels and galloped south the way he had come.
He had only run a few minutes when the storm broke loose around him. Hunnul was forced to slow to a trot. Very warily, his head stretching into the darkening wind and snow to search for the scent of the three men, the stallion continued on his way.
To Aiden, Gylden, and Ranulf, the morning seemed to be an endless nightmare. They hunted in the dense snow like blind men while their hope trickled away and their bodies grew sluggish in the cold.
It was Aiden, peering into the snow, who heard a neigh and saw a black shape materialize out of the blowing snow. With a glad cry, he urged his mount forward to meet the horse. “Valorian!” Aiden cried.
The clansman was slumped over his saddle, his right hand clenched in Hunnul’s mane, his left arm hanging uselessly, and his face was deathly pale. Somehow he managed a weak smile. “I’m. . . still here,” he said weakly.
Hunnul came to a stop, and the other horses huddled around him. Man and horse alike were thoroughly miserable.
Aiden knew he and his friends had to find shelter out of the deadly wind for Valorian as quickly as they could. However, finding their way in the blizzard would be virtually impossible. They couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead of them and could easily fall off a sheer cliff, wander in circles, or lose each other entirely in the storm.
“Did anyone see any kind of shelter?” Aiden cried over the howling wind.
The others shook their heads. They were in an area of the foothills that was fairly smooth and had few trees. There were no caves or deep valleys or big windfalls that anyone could remember.
“Rope your horses together,” Valorian croaked, still lying against Hunnul’s neck. “We’ll find something.”
The others nodded mutely and quickly bundled themselves with every scrap of clothing they had, strung ropes from saddle horn to saddle horn, and struck out into the teeth of the storm.
To Hunnul, Valorian whispered, “Find someplace out of the wind.”
The stallion took the lead. Step by step he led them east through the whipping storm toward the rising hills. He didn’t really know where to go, but he realized that his beloved master and the others wouldn’t survive for long in the frigid blast of the blizzard. Before too many hours passed, they wouldn’t be able to fight the cold any longer. Their smaller bodies would slip into death long before he grew tired. He had to find someplace closer where they could rest. His nostrils searched the wind, his keen eyes looked into the endless white and gray storm, yet even he found “nothing.
The big stallion plowed on. Behind him, he sensed the three smaller horses were beginning to falter. The rope on his saddle jerked more frequently as the horses stumbled through the gathering drifts. Hunnul became worried. Valorian had put his complete trust in him to find what the humans with their weaker noses and eyes could not. If he didn’t find something soon, his master would die.
Then, on the dim edge of his range of smell, the black caught the faintest scent of something familiar: hay. His ears perked. His head swung around to follow the smell and he hurried to catch up with the elusive scent.
Valorian had no idea where they were or where they were going. Numb and weak from loss of blood and the cold, he was barely conscious. Gradually, though, the change in Hunnul’s gait attracted his hazy attention. He lifted his head and tried to focus on the snowy gloom.
He was staring ahead into the shifting walls of snow when something moved. He had the impression of a large, upright figure standing there, but then he blinked and it was gone. “Hunnul, what was that?” he whispered.
I do not know. They seem to be leading us somewhere.
“They?” gasped Valorian.
Yes, there are at least three of them. They have been out there for a short time now.
“Why are you following them?”
They have food, master, and I do not sense any threat from them.
“What if they’re predators?” Valorian mumbled.
Hunnul snorted as if insulted by his rider’s lack of faith. They do not smell like meat-eaters. They smell like stone.
Valorian was startled. Stone? What were these creatures? he wondered. Hunnul seemed to think they weren’t dangerous, but how could he be sure?
Valorian thought he saw the creatures several more times, each glimpse just a quick view of a large, dark shape against the shifting snow shadows. The beings made no noise or any movement toward the four riders. In fact, they seemed to be very elusive of human contact.
Time passed slowly as they plodded wearily through the snow. For once, Valorian was grateful for the vestiges of the heat left in his body by the lightning. It was probably one of the few things keeping him alive. He could feel the intense cold slice through his clothes and his boots. His hands and feet were numb, and his face felt like ice. The only blessing in the cold was that it stopped his bleeding and eased the pain in his back. His breath was coming in shuddering gasps that shook the arrow at every movement. His consciousness began to waver again, slowly slipping away until the world rolled before his eyes and went dark.
He didn’t stir when Hunnul suddenly neighed. Somewhere, not far ahead, a guttural cry answered his call. The stallion surged forward, pulling the other horses with him. He went around several boulders and up a steep, slippery slope. All at once a wide, dark entrance opened up before them, and Hunnul plunged into the blessed shelter of a cave.
The next several hours were a blur to Valorian. He was only vaguely aware of Aiden, Ranulf, and Gylden moving around him. Someone must have lit a fire, for he saw a vague, flickering light on the ground, and someone else pried his fingers from Hunnul’s mane. It took all three men to lift him from the stallion’s back and carry him to some blankets by the fire. He felt their shaking hands and knew they were as cold and exhausted as he. He wanted to get up and help them. They needed water and food, and someone had to take care of the horses, but when he tried to rise, a brutal pain in his back pinned him to his pallet. His senses reeled, and for a while, all light and awareness faded from his mind.
He woke briefly to see Aiden bending over him with a bloody cloth in his hands, then the pain abruptly lanced through him again, and he passed out once more.
It wasn’t until late that night that he returned to consciousness. He woke in fits and starts to the sound of strange voices.
“Live will he?” a deep, rumbling voice said near his head.
Valorian opened his eyes. He was lying on his stomach, facing the fire. His vision was unfocused, and the only light in the big cavern came from the feeble embers of the low fire. All he could make out were the shapes of his companions under their blankets and Hunnul’s front legs standing close by his arm.
“The Mother said he would,” another strange voice replied.
Valorian couldn’t see the speakers because they were behind his head. When he tried to move, his exhausted body would only stir.
The second speaker spoke again in a voice that sounded much like rocks being ground together. “See, he wakes. Poultice we must give him. Amara asked.”
Strangely the clansman wasn’t afraid. Even though he had no idea who these speakers with the odd voices could be, he sensed they only wanted to help. Hunnul didn’t seem to be upset by their presence. At the mention of Amara’s name, he relaxed back into his blankets. The Mother Goddess would watch over him.