When their duty was done, the four men stepped back from the big bier. Gylden chanted the prayers for the dead until his voice grew tight and stumbled to a halt as he looked on his father’s face for the last time. Aiden and Mordan finished the prayers in his stead.
Valorian at last raised his hands. He spoke a command, and the entire pile burst into towering flames. He watched the fire burn for a long, long time before he finally broke his silence.
“The Harbingers were busy that night,” he said to no one in particular. The other three turned to stare at him, realizing perhaps for the first time that only he among living men really knew what it was to die. He went on, unmindful of their looks. “But I know where they went and how they will fare. We will see them again.”
His companions knew he was speaking of the dead, and they all took comfort in his words.
They waited until the smoke had faded and the fire had burned to ashes before they mounted their horses and left the demolished camp. Valorian didn’t look back. His thoughts had already moved on to the future and the survivors who were waiting for him in Actigorium.
“Tyrranis has gone too far!” Aiden burst out when they were halfway through the canyon. “It’s bad enough that he drives us into poverty and keeps us imprisoned in these forsaken hills. But now he has stooped to murder, pillage, and kidnapping!”
“But what can we do about it?” mourned Gylden. The death of his father and the loss of his beloved family and horses had devastated him.
Mordan glanced thoughtfully at Valorian, but the clansman said nothing. He had turned inward to secret places in his own heart and mind.
When they reached the open mouth of the canyon where the walls fell away to open hills, they came upon something that brought even Valorian up short. Lord Fearral was camped and waiting for them with every man, and some of the women, of fighting age in the Clan. They were all heavily armed and fiercely angry. In a noisy, turbulent crowd, they met the four returning clansmen at the edge of the temporary camp.
Valorian scanned the faces of the men gathered around the chieftain, and his heart leapt with hope. Even Karez was there, looking surly. Solemnly Valorian saluted his lord chieftain. “Word spreads fast,” he commented.
“It does when I spread it,” Fearral responded, returning the salute. “We saw the smoke two days ago. Were there many?”
“Thirty-two too many,” said Valorian.
Fearral winced. “And the rest of them have been taken to Actigorium?”
“It appears so.”
The chief lifted his head. “We cannot leave them there. We will work out a way to free them,” he promised.
“I have already done that, my lord,” Valorian told him softly.
“Oh? And what is that?” Valorian smiled then, the feral grimace of a hunter about to pounce. “I will turn myself in.”
12
“Valorian, you can’t be serious!” Aiden insisted. “That would be suicide.”
“And it’s not necessary. Every clansman here has sworn vengeance against the Tarns for this hideous attack. We can free the survivors together,” stated Lord Fearral.
Valorian didn’t reply at once to their pleas. Instead, he gauged the faces of all the men and women around him, from his brother and friends to Karez and people he barely knew by sight. He could judge from their expressions that Fearral was right. They were furious, furious to the point of finally turning on the Tarns. But did they realize the possible consequences of their actions if they went ahead with their plan to attack Actigorium? Tyrranis would have no compunction in retaliating by slaughtering the rest of the Clan. The fate that so many clanspeople had tried to avoid by staying in Chadar could happen anyway.
But would that realization make them change their minds?
Valorian doubted that now. The people had been pushed and prodded like caged animals until at last they were beyond reason. All they knew now was that the hated Tarns had dared attack two families, killing or capturing over one hundred people—people who had relatives in every other pan of the Clan. No clansperson could stand by and let that mortal insult go unpunished.
What Valorian found ironic was that in one fell blow, Tyrranis had succeed in doing what Fearral and Valorian had not—uniting the Clan under a single cause. Valorian immediately saw in this tragedy an opportunity. If he could rescue the prisoners and maintain this fragile unity of the people in the process, they would be much more willing to accept his plan for leaving Chadar. Especially if the Tarns were breathing furiously on their heels.
Deliberately he drew his sword and handed it hilt first to Aiden. “I do not intend to throw myself away on Tyrranis’s false promises,” he said loudly so all could hear. “We all know he will not keep his word.”
Tucking his hands in his belt, Aiden demanded, “Then why go?”
“Because we need to have someone within Actigorium to find out exactly where the prisoners are being held. We will also need several men to infiltrate the city and cause a distraction while others hold the gate.” He lifted his head to address the entire crowd. “This will be a dangerous raid. We will be outnumbered and fighting heavily armed men in a city they know well. But we can succeed! The only things we need to free our people are surprise, speed, teamwork, and the will of the gods. Who is with us?”
The entire crowd lifted their weapons in unison. The Clan war cry filled the hills and hollows and rode on the winds of Gol Agha to echo around the ruins of the dead winter camp.
They sat down then, Fearral, Valorian, and the leaders of the other families, to work out the details of their plan. In the end, Aiden reluctantly took Valorian’s sword for safekeeping. The night was late, so the clanspeople settled down for a few restless hours of sleep. By the time dawn painted the mountains with its golden light, Valorian was ready to go.
He had washed the soot, dirt, and old bloodstains from his hands and face and shaved his scraggly stubble. He had nothing left but a few weapons, his lion pelt cloak, and a few odds and ends of clothes, all of which he had left behind in Stonehelm, so he brushed off his filthy tunic and leggings and left them as they were. He bade farewell to Lord Fearral and Gylden.
He clasped Mordan’s hand and said, “I will see you tomorrow night.”
Mordan’s fingers tightened around his own. “I will not fail you,” the warrior replied.
Last of all, he hugged Aiden with a fierce embrace. The older brother in him couldn’t forget one last remonstrance. “Be careful, little brother. Linna will never forgive us if you do anything stupid.
Aiden laughed. “You’ll never know I’m there. Just take care that you do not annoy the high and mighty Tyrranis.”
“Is it wise to take Hunnul?” Gylden asked worriedly as Valorian swung up onto the stallion’s broad back.
“Absolutely.” He winked at his friend. “Someone has to rescue our mares.”
With a ringing neigh, Hunnul reared, his front hooves slashing the air. As he came down, his powerful hind legs thrust him forward into a gallop, and in moments, he was gone out of sight beyond the crest of a slope.
In the camp, the warriors began to pack and ready themselves for the ride to Actigorium.
The day was bright with a warm wind and scudding clouds, allowing Hunnul to make good time down to the pastured lowlands. His fast canter brought Valorian to the outskirts of Actigorium long before the man was ready. In spite of his brave facade before the men of the Clan, Valorian was apprehensive about meeting the notorious General Tyrranis. He guessed the real reason behind the general’s desire to capture him was to learn more about his magic, but Valorian had no intention of revealing any part of his power until the time came to free the hostages. What he was afraid of most was that Tyrranis would resort to torture if he didn’t learn what he wanted. If that happened, Valorian couldn’t be certain he’d be strong enough to help the surprise attack on the Tarnish garrison. Or even still be alive.