Further along, however, the canyon made several bends that took the force out of the winds, and between the protection of high walls was a long, narrow, flat place, green with grass and scattered trees. It wasn’t ideal, but it was safe enough. Only a few clanspeople had ever bothered to explore beyond the Place of the Winds; one of those had been Gylden’s father in his younger days.
Happily the old man’s memory was as sharp as ever, and after three days’ traveling with the winds howling at their backs, the two families found the sanctuary within the canyon. They immediately set about building the more substantial camps that were used for winter, including the carefully constructed ovens for baking bread. Two days before the moon was full, Kierla ate her fill of the warm, fragrant, freshly baked bread.
The rising of the Hunting Moon was another day of celebration for the clanspeople, this time for the god Surgart, the god of war and the hunt. They spent the day dancing and reenacting famous hunts, and when the full moon sailed over the canyon wall, the men set out on foot to hunt the fiercest predator in the mountains, the cave lion. After his horses, a cave lion pelt was the most respected and treasured possession a clansman could own. To kill one of the big cats during Surgart’s celebration was a feat of great honor and a good omen for the year to come.
Valorian himself had never had a successful lion hunt, but this year, Kierla wasn’t surprised when the men returned two days later filthy, exhausted, and laden with the pelt of a huge lion.
In front of both families, Gylden’s father stretched the pelt out flat for all to see. “Before the eyes of Surgart,” he shouted to the gathered people, “Valorian threw his spear straight and true into the chest of the springing cat. It is to him that we give the pelt for the honor of the killing blow!”
The crowd cheered as Valorian gathered up the pelt, and pride and gratitude burned in his heart. He gave the fur to Kierla to tan and prepare as she wished.
Several days later, on a windy, frostbitten morning, he kissed her good-bye, and, leaving her in Mother Willa’s care, he set out with Gylden, Ranulf, and Aiden to see the Wolfeared Pass.
10
It wasn’t difficult for the four clansmen to elude the Tarnish soldiers still searching the hills. Unencumbered by herds and carts, they were able to travel fast and on paths known only to wild animals and the Clan. Before too many days were gone, they passed the ridge where lightning had struck Valorian and headed into country only Ranulf had seen.
The young man was thrilled to be the guide for the other three, and he led them south down the long length of Chadar over ridges, hills, and valleys they never knew existed. Not far from Valorian’s ridge, Ranulf had to lead them out of the foothills and down to the plains to circumvent a vast, deep canyon that sliced through the mountains and forced its way through high bluffs into the lowlands.
The steep gorge formed an insurmountable barrier across any mountain path going north or south, and Valorian grimaced when he realized that if the Clan came this way, they, too, would have to risk going down to the plains to avoid that canyon.
Several days after passing the canyon, the clansmen crossed the Bendwater River into Sarcithia. They worked their way south along the flanks of the mountains for five more days until they reached a wide valley carved out of the hills by the swiftly flowing Argent River.
When all four men saw the old scars of wagon ruts left on the trail by the retreating XIIth Legion, Valorian felt his excitement grow. To the east, he could see where two peaks rose from the same summit, forming a shape similar to a wolfs prick-eared head.
Ranulf nodded when Valorian pointed to it. After all that time, Valorian was finally able to see Wolfeared Pass for himself. Following the legion’s trail, they rode up the long and often steep path to the snow-covered summit of the pass and sat on their horses to gaze on the land beyond.
They were silent for a long time as their eyes slowly traveled down the rumpled mountain slopes, past steep granite faces powdered with snow, to the pine-covered foothills and the purplish vistas of the far distant plains.
Hunnul stretched his neck to snuff the wind from the east, and his pleasure sang in Valorian’s mind. I smell grass down there. More grass than I have ever seen. That is a good place.
Grinning widely, Valorian patted the stallion in agreement. He could tell by looking at his companions that they thought so, too. He was encouraged as never before. Until that moment, the dream of going to the Ramtharin Plains had been something only he had truly believed in. His friends and family had thought about it, accepted it, and wished for it, but none of them had passionately believed in its possibilities. Now the dream had been passed to others. Valorian could see it ignite and begin to glow in the three men beside him. They stirred, straightened a little, and glanced at one another like conspirators in a wonderful secret. Ranulf was grinning. Gylden’s brown eyes were wide and brimmed with excitement, and Aiden’s fingers drummed on his knee as he imagined the vast potential of such a land.
Valorian nodded to himself. Now he had three dedicated disciples who would help him carry the dream to the Clan. The people had to understand! If he could only bring them all here to this mountaintop to look down on the far plains, he knew they would come to believe in hope and freedom just as his three companions had. Unfortunately he couldn’t bring the Clan here just for a look. He had to instill enough trust in the people for them to make a mighty leap of faith. When they ascended this mountain, it would be for the first and last time.
With a quiet sigh, he turned Hunnul away from the pass and the tantalizing view and led his friends back down the mountain. The weather was still mild and dry for late autumn, so Valorian decided to use the opportunity to scout for trails passable by carts. The other three men agreed. No one in the Clan was familiar with the land this far south, and I it would be very helpful to know the fastest way to reach the pass.
They began at the Argent River valley and methodically worked their way north, exploring every trail through the rugged hills—the small valleys with rushing streams, the deep canyons, and the open meadows of sun-cured grass. They looked for watering places, areas that could accommodate a large number of tents and herds, and smoother paths for the carts. They didn’t try to keep a map or write down any of the information they learned. None of them knew how to write, beyond a few basic names and symbols, and maps were for Tarns. After generations of traveling from place to place, the clanspeople were adept at memorizing landscapes and distances. When the Clan finally came that way, Valorian knew he and his companions would be able to lead the caravan unerringly along the ways they had chosen.
Before too many days had passed, however, Valorian began to feel his nervousness for Kierla increasing by the moment. They had been gone for a full passing of the moon, and her time was coming quickly. He wanted to be there with her when their child came into the world. He didn’t admit it aloud or even to himself, but he also wanted to be with her in the horrible event that she did not survive childbirth.
The other men, too, were getting anxious to see their loved ones and be sure the camp was still safe, so they pushed a little faster and reached the Bendwater River at the border of Chadar and Sarcithia by the end of autumn.