Not far to the south, a ruddy gold glow illuminated the city’s outline against the night sky, revealing a great column of smoke that billowed toward the stars. Valorian grinned. Aiden and his men had planned to light a fire in the city as a diversion for the Tarnish garrison. From the intensity of the ruddy light, the fire must be a big one.
At that moment, there was the sound of shouts and fighting from the stables. Before Valorian could get there, though, the noises quickly died away and several harnessed pairs of horses were led out of the stable by some of the clansmen. The men were carrying Tarnish swords and looking satisfied.
“We ran into a patrol,” one called cheerfully to Valorian as they headed for some wagons parked by the stable wall. Rapidly the horses were hitched, and the first of the women, children, and elders were lifted into the vehicles. Other horses were brought out and saddled until the stable was empty. Still there was no sign of Tyrranis’s troops or Lord Fearral’s men.
Valorian was growing anxious. There wouldn’t be much time before the garrison began to realize something more than just a chance fire was happening. If they got the slightest warning that the clanspeople were trying to flee, they would seal Actigorium like a trap. There would be no escape for anyone.
Then everyone stiffened to listen. They could hear the sound of a large party cantering toward the tower from the north gate road. Valorian ran forward to head off the horsemen. He whistled three times to signal them, and to his intense relief, they whistled back. Lord Fearral himself led the party of men, extra horses, carts, and wagons into the forecourt of the tower.
The people of the Clan cheered to see each other. Without further ado, the rest of the prisoners were placed in wagons or mounted on horseback. In a matter of only a few minutes, the entire party was ready to leave.
There was only one thing left for Valorian to do. Concentrating all his will in one call, he shouted at the top of his’ voice, “Hunnul!”
Loud and strong, the call went out, and to the surprise of everyone, it was answered from far, far away. A neigh, triumphant and proud, came in reply on the wind, and after it came a distant, muffled thundering. The clanspeople waited expectantly, although they weren’t sure what they were waiting for.
Then their answer came on the flying hooves of a large stampede of horses. With Hunnul at their rear, driving them on, the entire herd of horses from the Tarnish army corrals came careering along the road. The stolen Clan mares were there as well as army mounts and workhorses. Neighing wildly, their eyes rolling in fear at the fierce black stallion at their heels, their manes tossing in the wind, they swept by the waiting people in a tumbling wave of browns, blacks, and ghostly whites.
Hunnul charged up to Valorian, halted, and threw himself upward in a mighty rear, his hooves high over the man’s head. He came down with a thud and paused just long enough for Valorian to mount.
“Let’s go!” shouted Lord Fearral. The excited horses surged forward after the disappearing herd. The entire cavalcade of horses, riders, and vehicles galloped headlong on the stone-paved road through the city toward the northern gate. They were passing through an area that was predominantly storehouses and open lots, but the loud rumbling of their passing still drew the attention of people scattered through the area.
Shouts rose up behind them, and from somewhere in the night, a signal horn sang out a warning. The fleeing clanspeople paid little heed. They held on for dear life and urged their horses on as fast as the animals could go.
The northern gate wasn’t far from the garrison tower, and it was as large as the gate to the south. Unfortunately Valorian knew it would still take a little time to get the wagons and horses through. He prayed to the gods that Mordan and his men still held the gate and that the Tarns were too busy elsewhere to organize an attack.
A loud cheer came from ahead as the city walls loomed before the stampeding horses. The gates were wide open, with Mordan, Gylden and ten men standing to either side. Three dead Tarnish legionnaires lay in the shadows of the gate.
Valorian urged Hunnul over to where his friends were waiting. Both men were grinning at the stream of horses pouring past them. They saw Valorian and waved in evident relief.
“Better hurry,” Mordan shouted, his sword in hand. “We killed the sentries, but I’ve heard signal horns in all directions. There’ll be Tarns swarming all over this place in a moment.” He took a closer look at Valorian and winced. “Good gods, what happened to you?”
“Tarnish hospitality,” replied Valorian over the thunder of hooves. He pointed to the blood on Mordan’s tunic. “What about you?”
“Not mine,” came Mordan’s terse reply. “Go on and get those wagons out of here. We meet at Stonehelm, right?”
“Yes! Everyone!”
“Until then!” Mordan shouted, and Hunnul dashed away.
Although the clanspeople tried to maintain an orderly retreat, it took time to sort out the wagons, carts, and riders in the darkness and keep them moving in a steady flow through the exit. It wasn’t long before Tarnish soldiers appeared on the battlements above and in the streets behind them. There weren’t enough men to dare a charge against Lord Fearral and his mounted warriors standing as the rear I guard, so they hid behind walls and corners and began to pepper the fleeing wagons with arrows. People screamed and shouted as several arrows scored hits, and the remaining wagons crowded toward the exit on the verge of panic.
Valorian rode back to join Fearral in the rear. He felt terribly sore and tired, and he had no weapons, hut he still had a little strength left. As soon as Lord Fearral pointed out the scattered Tarnish warriors lurking in the shadows, Valorian aimed several bolts of magical energy into the walls and stonework near the soldiers’ heads. The Tarns were so stunned by the sight of the brilliant blue bolts and the explosions of sparks, they ducked out of sight.
Even the clansmen who saw the bolts gasped with shock. Everyone had seen Valorian’s magic in his tale, but few had accepted its real power.
Meanwhile the rest of the clanspeople hurried through the gateway in a steady stream of wagons and riders. The rear guard drew in behind them, and Mordan and his men retrieved their mounts and joined Lord Fearral. At last Valorian saw the final hostages pass through the gate, and he breathed a silent prayer of thanks.
Just as he and the rear guard were about to withdraw, a small troop of Tarnish horsemen came galloping along the north road in response to the earlier signal horns. Torchlight flickered on the tips of their spears and the polished metal of their light armor. They didn’t hesitate at the sight of the slightly larger force but lowered their spears and charged out of the darkness head-on into the clansmen. Their attack was so sudden, Valorian had no chance to use his power in defense.
Two Clan warriors fell to the spears before the others closed in furiously with sword, axe, and shield. The gateway turned into a struggling, writhing mass of fighting men and frantic horses. Without a weapon, Valorian could only hang on while Hunnul used his hooves and teeth to keep the enemy away from his rider.
Angrily Valorian searched his mind for some spell he could use against the Tarns, only to realize that his magic would be too dangerous. The Tarns and clansmen were too close together for simple explosive bolts, and Valorian knew he was too exhausted to manipulate any spell more complicated. All he could do was hang on while his companions fought for their lives. He saw Gylden close by, struggling hand to hand with a stocky legionnaire. Mordan was by Fearral’s side, defending his lord’s back.
All at once Lord Fearral gave a great shout, and the officer of the Tarnish horsemen fell, the chieftain’s axe in his crushed skull. The soldiers faltered.
Valorian sensed an advantage and raised his hand toward the night sky. A brilliant, sparkling ball of magic soared into the air to explode overhead in a shower of golden red sparks. Everyone instinctively ducked, and the Tarns, outfought and without a leader, fled into the safety of the night.