The scout brought his horse skidding up beside Hunnul and blurted out to Valorian, “General Tyrranis is coming!”
Valorian didn’t hesitate. “Get the Clan to the river,” he ordered Aiden and Mordan, then told his guards to stay with the wagons.
“Where are you going?” Aiden shouted in alarm when he saw Valorian wheel Hunnul around.
“To slow them down!” the chief replied as the black leapt forward. Like a thunderbolt, Hunnul raced past the Clan, back toward the north and the oncoming Tarns. Frightened faces watched him for a moment before the entire caravan broke out in a wild gallop down the long, smooth, treeless slope toward the river.
Racing over the thick grass, Hunnul stretched out his neck and legs in a run no other horse could rival. He flew over the ground along the Clan’s trail toward the top of a long, low ridge. Valorian had made a vow that he wouldn’t use his awesome force to murder humans, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use it to hinder them.
As the black slowed at the crest of the ridge, Valorian scanned the land to the north and immediately saw the Tarnish column advancing at a full canter. In fact, at the rate they were coming, Valorian estimated they could easily catch up to the slower-moving caravan long before it reached the river. Unless they ran into a little trouble, that is.
Hunnul came to a stop on the bare ridge top. Drawing a long breath into his lungs, Valorian forced himself to relax and wait. He would hold his place there until the Tarns were closer. He glanced at the sky and noticed an angry blue-gray line of clouds building in the west into a towering white peak of violent energy. He winced when thunder rumbled in the distance. A gust of wind dashed over the slopes, unfurled Hunnul’s tail, and sent Valorian’s lion-pelt cloak flapping.
The chieftain hardly needed his cloak in the warm afternoon, but he wore it now to draw on the lion’s courage intrinsic in its pelt—and for effect. He watched silently while the Tarns drew closer. He could see the crescent moon emblem on their banners and the weapons in their hands; he recognized Tyrranis at the head of the long column. Very deliberately, he pulled the lion’s head down over his eyes like a helmet visor and stared out through the empty eyeholes. He could tell the Tarns had recognized him, because their leaders pointed his way and their speed increased. The pounding of the horses’ hooves drowned out the distant rumble of thunder.
Valorian waited until the soldiers were just within arrow range, then he raised his hand and gathered the magic around him to his bidding. He felt an unfamiliar mild surge of energy in the magic, but his spell was already forming, and he didn’t want to let go of it to find out about something so small. He concentrated instead on the power building within him.
The Tarns were raising their weapons when four balls of blazing blue energy seared from Valorian’s hand in rapid succession and slammed into the ground in a line just in front of the foremost riders. The subsequent explosions sent huge fountains of blue sparks, dust, clods of earth and rock tom grass, and shattered shrubs flying in all directions. The front line of riders collapsed into a mass of neighing, bucking, falling horses and shouting men.
Valorian saw General Tyrranis’s panicked mount throw the general to the ground and bolt in terror back the way he had come. The whole column disintegrated into turmoil.
Valorian thought it was time to fall back. As Hunnul turned away, the chief caught the faintest mental impression of something like a chuckle from the big stallion before he broke into a gallop after the fleeing caravan.
General Tyrranis picked himself up out of the dirt in time to see the horse’s black tail disappear over the slope. “Get him!” he screamed at his second-in-command, who was trying to bring his own horse under control. “Or I’ll have your head!”
The man cast one wild look at his commander and decided it would be safer to chase a magic-wielder than stay and argue with the general. He rounded up all the men still on horseback, reformed the troops into a charge formation, and led them up the gentle ridge. From the top, they could see the retreating form of Valorian and, beyond him, the main body of the Clan running pell-mell for the river. The trumpeter sounded the charge. In unison, the mounted troops sprang forward.
Valorian heard the clear notes of the Tarnish trumpet with a stab of surprise. The column had reformed faster than he had expected, and he could see ahead that the caravan had already run into trouble. Several wagons had broken down during the frantic run and lay in the dust with their drivers working desperately to fix them. The brood mare herd was off to the side of the line of wagons and carts, but while the other herds of horses and livestock were moving well, the pregnant mares and mothers were forced to go much slower. They were already well behind the caravan.
Meanwhile, the head of the long tram had reached the river and it, too, had run into problems. The shallow ford was too narrow for everyone to cross at once, and the Clan wagons were starting to slow down as they reached the bottleneck.
Hunnul came to the first wrecked wagon and stopped at Valorian’s command. The driver, a lone woman with a daughter and two nearly grown sons, looked up gratefully as the chief slid off to help. Valorian was relieved to see the problem was only a broken axle. One quick spell repaired the wagon, then he and Hunnul quickly hurried the little family toward the next broken-down cart.
This one had hit a large rock, shattered its wheel, and sent its contents and occupants flying. The two people were still trying to deal with their injuries when Valorian arrived. Once again he fixed the wagon with magic, but there was nothing he could do with the broken arm and the cuts and abrasions. The woman and her children helped the driver while the chieftain returned the belongings to the cart with a spell. In moments, they were off after the caravan.
Twice more Valorian stopped to help until he had four carts and wagons with their passengers and several stragglers, a warrior with a limping horse, four dogs, and Gylden with the boys and the brood mare herd in his company. Just ahead, the rest of the Clan was rumbling down to the riverbank, while behind, the Tarnish soldiers were drawing dangerously close.
Valorian decided it was time to slow the Tarns down again. He waved on the wagons, then turned Hunnul to face the oncoming troops. He had to pause for a moment to draw a deep breath and steady his thoughts. He was growing weary from using magic, and’ he didn’t want to lose control of the power when the Tarns were bearing down on him. When he was ready, he formed a spell that crackled into the grass before the charging horses. In a blinding flash, the grass burst into towering flames. Horses suddenly screamed in terror and fell back; their riders shouted with fear as a wall of fire rose high above their heads and formed a great circle around them. Smoke billowed up in great blinding clouds.
Valorian, his expression bleak, turned back to follow the caravan, leaving the fire to hold off the Tarns. Another crash mares of thunder from the approaching storm rolled over the hills and the chief hoped fervently that his flames would last long enough to allow the Clan to cross into Sarcithia.
He was pleased to see that the repaired wagons had caught up with the tail end of the caravan. The rear guard was urging everyone and helping the stragglers as best they could, so Valorian galloped Hunnul on past the remaining wagons to the ford.
The scene there was chaotic. The heavy vehicles and men numerous hooves had churned the banks of both sides of the river into knee-deep mud that clung to legs and wagon wheels. Several conveyances were bogged down, and one terrified team was balking and blocking the way for those behind it. Mordan was trying desperately to bring order to the uproar of cracking whips, squealing animals, and shouting people. He nodded with relief when Valorian came to join him.