For a moment, the clansmen and their horses, the Tarns and Tyrranis were stunned by the powerful blast. No one moved in the settling dust. Then Hunnul leaped forward up the trail, and the Clan warriors followed close on his heels.
“Stop them!” Tyrranis yelled furiously. Drawing his own bloody sword, the general kicked his horse to cut off Hunnul’s escape. His officers and a few of the men who were still mounted followed him with their own weapons drawn.
Valorian saw them corning and felt his hatred rise to choke him. He wanted more than anything to sear Tyrranis to a smoking ruin, but he wouldn’t break his vow for the likes of that man. Instead, he raised his sword over his head with both hands, lifted his voice in a great cry of rage, and clamped his legs to Hunnul’s sides. The black flattened his ears, gathered himself into a mighty leap, and plowed directly into the general’s big bay horse.
The brown stallion staggered under the force of the blow, knocking the general off balance. In a frenzy, Tyrranis clutched his sword and grabbed for his saddle horn, his face masked in rage. He clung to the side of his saddle while his horse tried to regain its balance, and he looked up at Valorian’s implacable face. His lips curled in a snarl of hatred.
The black sword came smashing down on the general’s shoulder at the edge of the polished breastplate. The blow knocked Tyrranis further off balance. He slipped sideways, exposing his neck for a brief moment, and in that space of time, Valorian struck again. His sword slashed into Tyrranis’s neck and hacked through to the spine. The general’s head lolled sideways as blood poured over his immaculate uniform. He seemed to hang on for a heartbeat or two, then his body sagged out of the saddle and fell to earth. His horse bolted away.
The gorthling on Valorian’s shoulder licked its lips.
Almost in an afterthought, Valorian hurled a whirlwind of dust, gravel, and flailing winds into the midst of the other mounted officers that blew them off their terrified horses. The remaining soldiers of the Chadarian garrison, demoralized, made no further effort to follow the rear guard as they broke out of the encirclement and galloped up the trail after the caravan.
A prayer was on the chieftain’s lips that he and his men weren’t too late. By the position of the noon sun, he knew they hadn’t been separated for long, but the XIIth Legion wouldn’t need much time to catch and massacre the Clan.
He sent Hunnul racing over the rocky trail, deeper into the valley, with the rear guard trying madly to keep up.
At first, Valorian couldn’t see the caravan through the groves of trees and the rocky outcroppings. He heard it first—an inarticulate roar of screaming, yelling, roaring voices, mingled with the neighing of panicked horses and the rattle of weapons and armor. The sound cut to his heart.
Valorian leaned low over Hunnul’s neck, his fingers damped to his sword, and his body automatically adjusted to the horse’s violent movements. The black mane whipped his face, and the gorthling’s claws sunk into his shoulder, but he didn’t feel a thing. He saw only the trail before him that led to the legion he must defeat.
All at once the valley opened up into a flat, broad meadow of thick grass, flowers, and butterflies. The Tarns had caught the caravan there and brought it to a crashing halt.
Valorian saw it all in a flash when Hunnul broke out of the trees and crested a small rise. A force of perhaps two hundred soldiers were positioned between him and the caravan. They were there presumably to keep the clanspeople from turning back or escaping into the woods and hills. To Valorian, they were a cutting insult, a challenge thrown in his face to keep him from his family. Farther ahead on the trail, the wagons, carts, and herds were thrown together in a chaotic mass of terrified people and animals, and all along that crowded line were clansmen and women tangled in bitter fighting with the legionnaires.
The chieftain’s jaw tightened. Once again he relied on the gorthling’s touch to summon more forces of magic. His vivid blue eyes seemed to spark from the vast power he drew out of the earth, river, and trees. On his shoulder, the gorthling began to bob and weave in excitement, for it had never felt such power before. The other warriors were close behind them now, their expressions angry and grim.
In unison, they broke over the rise and galloped down on the force of Tarnish soldiers who were sitting patiently on their horses, watching the battle surge around the caravan. The Tarns weren’t expecting an attack from their rear, since they thought the remains of the Clan rear guard were being rank destroyed by Tyrranis’s men. It wasn’t until they heard the hoof beats close by and a few men turned to look that they realized their danger. Before they could set up any defense, the clansman on the big black horse raised his hand toward them.
Several bolts of crackling white-hot energy shot from Valorian’s hand and slammed into the ground at their feet. To would the soldiers, the white streaks looked like bolts of lightning. They had seen a little of Valorian’s magic from a distance, but nothing prepared them for the powerful, jagged streaks in their midst or the thundering explosions as the energy hit the rocky ground. Men and horses were slammed to the ground; those that were still on their feet were quickly cut down by the clansmen behind Valorian.
The chief rode on without a backward glance. His men were hard pressed to catch up with him as Hunnul raced over the remaining distance to the embattled Clan. Valorian was so terrified by what he might find, he didn’t search for Kierla’s cart or look at any of the wagons. He focused instead on the clusters of tunics with the black eagle fiercely emblems. Those were his quarry. It would have been easier, line he thought, if they had been separated from the clanspeople and formed in ranks. Unfortunately they were scattered along an entire line of crowded vehicles and livestock, intermingled with the clanspeople in a frantic struggle for survival. He couldn’t drive them off with one final, magnificent blow. He would have to deal with them piecemeal .
Then he had an idea. If he couldn’t fight them en masse, perhaps he could persuade them to retreat that way. He slowed Hunnul a little to allow the other men to catch up with him, and he waved them into several lines abreast with his position. Before their startled eyes, he began to form the images of mounted warriors. The Images looked like clansmen with their homespun tunics, iron-bound helmets, and small round shields; they carried spears and swords and rode Clan horses, but their faces were hidden behind visors, and their movements were strangely lifeless. Rank after rank the ghostly men fell in behind Lord Valorian until the troop looked and sounded as big as a legion. Banners floated over their heads, and the realistic noises of rattling armor, jingling bridles, and neighing horses filled the air.
At Valorian’s command, the magical army burst into full gallop toward the caravan, with the chieftain at its head. He cast a quick glance back at his strange force and hoped it would look real enough to the Tarns. The speed of their charge and the dust kicked up by the horses seemed to help obscure the somewhat mechanical movements of the false warriors.
The first group of Tarns at the tail end of the caravan was scattered among the wagons. Some were fighting with the clanspeople, some were raiding the contents of the wagons, and a few were trying to cut loose the harnessed horses. They were so busy and so certain of victory, that they didn’t notice the charging clansmen until Valorian produced a ram’s horn and blew a great, resounding blast that shook the valley and echoed off the peaks.
The Tarns froze in their tracks at the sight of the huge Clan force bearing down on them. Valorian smiled fiercely as the soldiers left their victims and drew together into a line of defense. He formed another whirlwind of dust and grit and sent it whipping into their midst. The Tarnish lines fell apart. Just before his warriors reached the legionnaires, Valorian banished the wind and drew his sword.