Valorian said nothing, although his heart began to pound. Even Aiden was silent, watching the chieftain with a mingled look of disbelief and hope.
“I asked you to come,” Fearral continued, “because I want to bear about your plan for this exodus you have been talking so much about.” He chuckled wearily. “Everyone has heard about you and your journey to the realm of the dead except me.”
Fearral’s daughters brought chairs and mugs of tea for the chieftain’s guests, admonished him not to wear himself out, and left the five men alone in the big hall.
With pleasure, Valorian launched into his tale, complete with full magical effects. This time, though, to Aiden and Gylden’s surprise, he went on to include his second journey south to Wolfeared Pass and the trail back over Carrocks Road. His magical visions were so vivid his audience saw the splendid vistas of the Ramtharin Plains, felt the cold of the blizzard, and were awed by the dark beauty of the Carrocks’ caverns. When he was finished with his story, he bowed low to his lord and sank wearily into his seat. He had done the best he could to present his case, and he breathed a silent prayer to Amara that it would be enough to convince Fearral.
There was a long moment of silence, then the hall erupted with cheering and clapping. Valorian turned around, startled, and saw the hall filled with clanspeople who had slipped in to hear his story. Fearral’s two daughters sat near the front of the crowd, clapping wildly.
Lord Fearral watched the people, his wrinkled face torn by conflicting emotions. He knew what he had to do, but he wasn’t sure that he had the strength to go through with it. He was about to rise, when a stunned, faraway look suddenly crossed Valorian’s face.
“No!” Valorian shouted fiercely. The people quieted and muttered among themselves at his odd behavior. He bolted to his feet, his face white with a strange fear.
“What is it?” Aiden asked, alarmed.
At that moment, Hunnul charged into the hall, neighing in agitation and scattering people left and right.
“Ranulf is coming,” Valorian cried to his brother, and he fan to the doorway.
It was then that they all heard it, a loud despairing wail coming up the road through the town. “Valorian!”
“I’m here!” the clansman shouted. He ran outside to meet the young rider, followed by everyone in the hall. The people gasped aloud when Ranulf reined’ his jaded, staggering horse to a stop by Valorian and both mount and rider fell to the ground.
Valorian sprang forward to help him. He hardly recognized Ranulf under the dirt and soot and splattered blood, that covered his face and clothes.
“Valorian! Thank the gods,” Ranulf choked out. His hands grasped at Valorian’s tunic. With Aiden’s help, he was pulled out from under his half-dead horse and laid gently on the ground. He shoved away an offering of water. “Valorian,” he I cried in a voice drenched in tears, “they’re gone. All of them!”
“Who is gone?” Valorian prompted gently, though his stomach was sick with dread. and his hands were trembling.
“Everyone! The Tarns came. The whole lousy garrison. They knew where we were. They came looking for you, and when we told them you were gone, they tore the camp apart. We tried to stop them, but they killed anyone who argued. Then they burned everything, drove off the herds and took everyone who was left.”
“What do you mean they took them?” demanded Aiden frantically.
Ranulf’s haunted eyes shifted back and forth like a trapped animal’s. “The Tarns chained all the clanspeople together and herded them down to Actigorium.”
“Why?” Lord Fearral cut in.
“As bait,” Valorian said coldly. His face had gone rock hard.
Ranulf nodded. “The commander let me go to find you. He said to tell you they would let everyone go if you would turn yourself in.” He clutched Valorian’s sleeve in sudden panic. “You won’t do that, will you?”
Something suddenly snapped in Valorian’s mind. Hunnul came quickly to his side and waited only a moment for Valorian to spring to his back before he leaped forward down the road, heading for the town gates.
Mordan started to grab the reins of a nearby horse to follow him, but Gylden put his hand out. “You’ll never catch that horse,” he said sadly. “I know where he’s going.”
For the first time since they returned from the realm of the dead, Valorian witnessed the full power of his stallion. From the moment he broke into a gallop just outside the gates of Stonehelm until they reached the rocky mouth of Gol Agha, where he had to slow to a jog, Hunnul ran at a constant, ground-eating pace. He didn’t slow down, break into a sweat, or show any indication that he was tired. He simply kept going over, the leagues of hills and fields like a creature possessed. Numb with unanswered fears, Valorian held on to the black’s mane and watched the land streak by while the wind roared through his ears.
It was night when they reached the mouth of Gol Agha. A full moon swelling above the mountains showed Valorian the first sign of the devastation to come. A deep, muddy trail, black in the silver moonlight, marked the passage of the Tarnish troops and their long lines of prisoners. Off to the side of the new trail, in the grass, lay the body of a little girl from Gylden’s family. Her clothes were stained with smoke and mud, and her pale face was turned lifelessly toward the starry sky. Valorian swallowed hard.
Hunnul raced on deeper into the canyon. They saw more bodies, some older people, some children—all Valorian recognized—strewn along the way, tossed to the side with broken weapons, abandoned personal belongings, and an occasional dead animal or wrecked cart.
Finally, in the early afternoon, they rounded the bend in e canyon and found the ruins of the winter camp. Its blackened remains were an ugly sore against the warm sunshine and the newly budding trees. The sight sickened Valorian.
“Kierla!” he shouted. Even though he knew if she were there, she would be beyond answering, he couldn’t stifle his frantic desire to see her. Hunnul clattered up the trail’ through the burned and trampled tents to the site of Valorian’s tent. The clansman threw himself to the ground. He staggered, his legs stiff from the long ride, and made his Way to the ruins of his tent. The entire thing was burned to the ground; everything in it was destroyed. The baby’s cradle, Kierla’s favorite tea box, their clothes, everything was gone. His only consolation was that there were no bodies among the charred ashes.
For the rest of the day until the evening grew too dark, Valorian searched the camp. What he found left a hard, cold lump in his chest and a rage that settled deep into his bones.
The Tarns had left nothing for the survivors to salvage. They had swept through the camp with ruthless, deadly efficiency, destroying every tent and cart, pulling down the corrals and pens. The meager food stores were gone, the horses stolen, and the dogs and the livestock were either slaughtered or driven off.
Worst of all were the murdered clanspeople lying among the ruins of their homes. Valorian found Gylden’s father by his tent with an old, rusty sword in his hand and a spear through his chest. The Tarns hadn’t been particular about their victims; they had killed anyone who had stood in their way: men, women, and children. Valorian saw his elderly uncle, several of his cousins, Kierla’s younger sister with her baby, and numerous other friends and members of both families—perhaps thirty people in all. The ones he did not find were Kierla, Khulinar, Linna, and Mother Willa.
That night he lit a huge bonfire and stood guard over the bodies. They had been dead for five days and already torn by carrion eaters, but Valorian wouldn’t let another vulture or wild dog near them before they were properly buried.
Aiden, Gylden, and Mordan found him the next afternoon carefully hauling the bodies to a large bier that he had built in the center of the camp. Wordlessly they looked over the faces of the dead, then bent to help him as he laid the bodies side by side. No one said anything to Valorian. His eyes had a strange, distant look, and his expression was anguished. He didn’t greet them; he merely nodded in acknowledgement when they joined him in his heartbreaking task.