Valorian (23 page)

"I know where we are!" Ranulf cried suddenly. His usually serious face shone with excitement as he said to Valorian, "We're in that valley that comes out near the ridge where you were struck by lightning.

If we spent two days underground, then that road cut off nearly twenty leagues from our original trail.

We even went by that canyon!"

"And it was so much easier," Aiden added. The men grinned at each other. Their anxiety of the underground had vanished in the light, the air, and the pleasure of being so much closer to home.

Four days later they were joyously welcomed back into the camp by both families. This time it was Gylden and Aiden who fascinated the clanspeople with the tale of the journey, and for many days, the people could talk of nothing but Wolfeared Pass and Carrocks.

Kierla was delighted and relieved to have Valorian back. As a gift, she gave him a cloak she had made from the lion pelt. It was heavy, warm, and silky soft, with the hood made from the lion's head.

Valorian hugged her fiercely in gratitude.

The winter settled in in earnest after the first big storm melted away. Kierla's time quickly approached. The end of the year was quietly celebrated on the dawn of the winter solstice, and the clanspeople began to look forward to spring.

Shortly after noon, five days after the new year began, Kierla went into labor. In Clan custom, she retired to a special tent set aside for lying-in, with only her sister and Mother Willa in attendance.

Valorian was left to pace and worry outside. To everyone's surprise, Valorian's father's prediction that Kierla would be a good breeder turned out to be accurate. Despite her age, Kierla easily gave birth to a healthy, kicking boy just as the sun set beyond the canyon wal s.

Clan law dictated that she had to remain in the lying-in tent for ten more days. The baby, however, had to be blessed and named immediately so the Harbingers could find him if he died. Mother Wil a brought him out, tightly bundled against the night air, and proudly presented him to his father.

Valorian was overwhelmed. With trembling hands, he took his tiny son into his arms, then carried the infant to the priestess of Amara, who was waiting with the water and salt to bless the boy. People from both families crowded around to watch.

As soon as the blessing was over, Valorian raised the baby over his head and shouted to his people,

"I, Valorian, accept this child as mine. His name shall be Khulinar, beloved of Amara. Welcome him into the Clan!"

The noise of the cheering penetrated the wal s of the tent where Kierla lay waiting for her son to be returned to her. Joy and triumph brought her smile shining to her face. Khulinar's birth had been a wonder to her, but even more marvelous had been the warm, comforting feeling of Amara's presence that had stayed with her through the hardest hours of labor. Kierla knew now with certainty that her son's birth was only the first of many.

The winter that year held on with a stubborn determination. The snow fel deep in the mountains, blocking the trails, covering the meadows, and keeping the clanspeople close to their camps. The cold remained steady day after day until everyone wondered if spring would ever come.

Eventual y, though, little by little, subtle changes began to happen to the land. The clanspeople, being tied so intimately to the natural cycles of their world, recognized every change and rejoiced in it.

Each day the sun rose a minute or two earlier and lingered a while longer in the sky. The bitterly cold temperatures gradually lost their grip on the snow and ice. On sunny days, melting snow sent rivulets of water flowing over the canyon wal s to join the smal creek at the bottom. In the lowlands, the rivers began to swel and the roads turned to mud.

Valorian watched all of these changes with a sense of mingling worry and happiness. The time to make plans for the move to the Ramtharin Plains was upon him, and that gave him great joy, but no one else seemed to be paying attention.
That
deeply concerned him. Everyone, even Kierla and Aiden, was involved in his or her own responsibilities and plans, with little time to discuss leaving Chadar. He rode out a few times to talk to other families but met with little success. Most of the people were leery of having a wanted man in their midst and were in no frame of mind to discuss an exodus. It was very frustrating. Valorian didn't give up, though. He knew he had to keep trying. Perhaps when the weather warmed and the clanspeople felt the urge to travel again, he could grab their attention.

In the meantime, the unusual y heavy snows and cold weather had kept the Tarns in their homes and made life a little easier for Valorian and his family. That, he knew, would change with the first big thaw. He imagined Tyrranis was not pleased with the soldiers' lack of success in finding him. By spring, he was afraid Tyrranis's search for him would be renewed with a vengeance.

* * * * *

"Not pleased" was putting Tyrranis's mood mildly. In fact, he was enraged. For three months, his servants, aides, and officers had stepped very carefully around the volatile general. One wrong move, one imagined slight or mistake could send a person to the dungeon cel s beneath the old Chadarian garrison tower—or worse. Tyrranis railed against the stupidity and incompetence of his soldiers and threatened executions if Valorian was not brought to him by early summer at the latest. He wasn't going to lose this man through the blundering of his underlings.

As soon as men and horses could travel through the snow and mud of the lower foothil s, he started sending scouts out to search for the winter camps of the Clan. He knew the families couldn't leave their camps until the trails dried enough to allow carts and herds to travel, so he hoped to find some clue or information that would lead him to the elusive clansman.

To make matters more interesting, he had it announced all through Chadar that he was offering a large reward in gold for the capture, or information leading to the capture, of Valorian. Tyrranis hoped the lure of gold would loosen the tongues of the impoverished clanspeople.

Then, late one windy night in the fourth month of the year, his offer of a reward reaped results. A Tarnish scout came galloping into the courtyard of Tyrranis's palace with another man clinging behind his saddle. He demanded to see the general immediately, and the officer of the guard, seeing the ragged clansman with him, escorted him to Tyrranis without hesitation.

As usual, the general was working late on the endless details necessary to running the large province. Tyrranis was a ruthless man, but he drove himself as hard as he drove others, and his great pride lay in his enormous ability to govern. He glanced up irritably when his officer of the guard pounded on the door and announced himself.

At the general's command, the three men entered, the two Tarns nearly dragging the reluctant clansman.

"What is it?" snarled the general. His fastidious side hoped the smelly, filthy clansman wasn't the Valorian who had reputed magic powers and had eluded his best men for so long.

"I found him coming down out of the hills, sir," the scout said breathlessly. "He says he has information and wants to claim the reward."

Tyrranis pinned his dark stare on the clansman. It was impossible to tell the man's age because he was so ragged, bearded, and covered with mud. He was probably one of those foul exiles even the clanspeople couldn't stand in their midst. "Let's hear what he has to say," the general said to the scout.

"Then we'll decide if he has earned the reward."

The clansman smiled a gap-toothed grin and shuffled a step forward. "Oh, I've earned it all right, Yer Highness. I know where Valorian is!"

Tyrranis didn't deign to reply. He sat at his desk, his arms crossed, his face haggard-looking in the light cast by the oil lamp on the table. Outside, the wind gusted to a roar, rattling the shutters and blowing tiles off the roof.

There was a long pause while the clansman stared nervously around him until the thought of the gold in his hands shored up his courage.

"I know Valorian, you see," he finally muttered. "Big man. Son of Daltor. Daltor didn't like me. He arranged it so I was exiled seven years ago. The stinking—"

"Get on with it!" growled General Tyrranis. He was growing impatient with this fool.

The clansman started with fear and stumbled over his next words in his hurry to be away from there. "I, uh, saw him—Valorian that is—five days ago, riding that big black horse of his. Hard to miss that horse. So I followed him, at a distance. He went into Gol Agha and rode up the canyon for a long way. They're camped in there, General. The whole family. Valorian's with them." He stared eagerly at Tyrranis, but if he was hoping for some sign of excitement or praise, he was disappointed.

The general only turned to the scout. "Can you find this Gol Agha?"

"Yes, General," the scout answered.

"Good." Tyrranis shot a quick glance over the clansman's shoulder to the guards standing by the door and barely nodded.

"What about my reward?" the exile demanded, holding out a grubby hand. "Isn't my news worth something?" He was so anxious to get his gold he didn't see the guardsman slip up behind him.

There was a quick flash of steel and the sound of a thud, and the clansman slowly sagged to the floor, a dagger buried between his ribs.

"Now he cannot go back and sel a warning to Valorian," Tyrranis said with heavy contempt. He gestured to the body. "Remove that."

Just as the guards were dragging the body out the door, the garrison commander hurried in and saluted his general. He didn't give the corpse a second glance. The commander was a very anxious man these days, for he was responsible for the success or failure of the search for Valorian.

"Did he have any news?" the commander asked, trying not to appear too hasty.

"Gol Agha," Tyrranis replied. He rose to mask the sudden excitement that fil ed him and strode to the fireplace. The light of the flames flickered over his harsh face. "Go there," he ordered the scout.

"Find the camp." He turned to the commander. "Now, as for you," he snarled, "do as we discussed, and do not fail me again."

Both men saluted and hurried out. While the scout went to find a fresh horse, the commander went to rouse the garrison. The officer wanted every man he could find for this duty. He didn't intend to let a single clansperson escape from that camp.

* * * * *

That same night, the early spring winds were streaming down the canyon of Gol Agha with the strength of a gale and the voice of a howling madwoman. The lone rider who rode its length could hardly believe that any Clan family in its collective right mind had chosen to camp in this wild place. It wasn't until he trotted his horse around the curves and into the comparative peace of the back canyon that he saw its advantages. He was around the last bend with the campfires in sight when two guards rode up beside him.

One of them was Valorian's younger brother.

"Mordan!" Aiden cried with pleasure. "What brings you from our lord chieftain's side?"

"Believe it or not, Lord Fearral sent me," the stocky guardsman replied jovially. "He wants to talk to Valorian."

"Oh? Another warning? Another dithering?"

Mordan laughed. He had long ago given up being insulted by the behavior of their chieftain. "I'm not sure. Our lord has had a rough winter, and he's getting very nervous about spring. "

"He should be!" Aiden grinned and pointed toward the camp. "Valorian's in his tent."

Mordan was about to ride on when he paused and suggested, "You might want to extend your guards out beyond that bend in the canyon. If I can find this place, so could others."

Aiden nodded negligibly, waved, and rode on with his companion. Mordan's comment was quickly forgotten in the excitement of Lord Fearral's summons.

Mordan found Valorian's tent at the edge of the big camp without too much difficulty. He dismounted and left his horse to munch hay with Hunnul in the shelter at the side of the tent. For just a moment, he stopped to pat the black stal ion's neck. The big horse lifted his head, his dark eyes shining, and snorted lightly as if in greeting.

"Mordan!" Valorian called from inside the tent. He stuck his head out the flap. "What are you doing here? Come in out of that wind."

The chieftain's guard gave Hunnul a strange look. How had Valorian known it was him? He shrugged and returned the man's greeting. Fol owing custom, he wiped the mud from his boots and left his sword by the entrance before he entered Valorian's home. He stepped into the warm and pleasant interior.

Outside, the wind was blowing in cold, damp gusts strong enough to make the tent wal s heave and dance. Inside, rugs on the floor, light-colored wall hangings, and three or four small lamps combined to create a welcoming and snug living place.

Kierla was there, gently rocking her baby in the swinging cradle that hung from the tent poles. She made their guest comfortable with hot spiced wine and pil ows and returned to her rocking without missing a step.

"I see the rumors of Amara's blessing are true," he said to her with a pleased grin.

Kierla surprised him by blushing. She looked at her husband proudly. "True and true again," she replied.

Valorian, who was sitting down again polishing tack, chuckled. "The dam has broken, Mordan.

There'll be no stopping her now."

The guardsman was nonplussed for a moment until the significance of what they had said sank in.

"You're expecting another?" he asked in astonishment. "Already?"

"I have years of childbearing to catch up on," she said, her voice smug with satisfaction.

"Valorian," Mordan said to his host, "you really do have the favor of the Mother Goddess." He went straight to the point then of his message from Lord Fearral.

Kierla looked up excitedly, but Valorian merely nodded and said, "I will come."

The chief's guard hid a smile of satisfaction. He was pleased to see that Valorian wasn't greeting the news with wild expectations. Lord Fearral had had all winter to think about Valorian's plan, but he hadn't explained his reasons for the summons. Valorian was wise not to get carried away by hope that Fearral had changed his mind.