usual y stayed, but there was no sign of one. He frowned. Every Clan camp stationed guards to protect itself from unwelcome visitors or surprise attacks. One unwary guard could mean disaster.
The two riders hurried on along the trail past the promontory and through a copse of tal pines. The path rose up a low slope, then dipped down again to the val ey floor and the wide, grassy meadow.
Valorian and Aiden went as far as the top of the slope before they stopped and looked down on the camp.
At first glance, the valley looked normal. A few horses grazed peacefully at the far eastern end where the grass was the thickest. Some goats and sheep were being herded by several smal boys to the stream that tumbled beside the sheer slopes of the northern wal . The camp itself lay quietly in the sunshine, just below the riders' positions.
Valorian's hand edged to his sword and silently drew it. Something was wrong. He could sense it.
The camp was too quiet. There was no sign of anyone among the tents or by the central fire, and the surrounding area was strangely empty.
"Where is everyone?" he murmured.
Aiden didn't hear him. "What did that?" he asked incredulously and pointed to Valorian's sword.
The clansman glanced at his blade, then stared at it in amazement. He had had no reason to draw it on the journey home and hadn't looked at it since that rainy afternoon on the ridge.
Something incredible had happened to it. The blade had been burned black by some powerful heat that not only scorched the blade down to the hilt, but also melted the edges in ripples at the point.
Instead of a straight, hammered blade, the sword looked much like a long flame. In disgust, Valorian slammed the weapon back in its sheath. The sword had been his father's and grandfather's before him.
Now it was probably useless, and short of stealing a Tarnish blade, he had no means of getting another.
"I don't know what did that," he snapped. "Now, where is everyone?"
Aiden gazed at the man for a long moment. He loved his brother too much to doubt him, but this mystery of Valorian's reappearance was beginning to bother him. He gestured toward the camp. "Most of the men and boys are' either out hunting or looking for you, and Mother Willa said something about taking the women out to gather herbs and greens. I don't know about everyone else."
The sharp tone in Aiden's voice brought Valorian's irritation up short. He didn't need to take his frustrations out on his brother. He was about to apologize when he heard a sound that turned his blood cold.
Voices had suddenly raised in anger from the corrals where the camp's best horses and breeding stock were kept.
The pens were near the stream and out of his sight behind some trees, yet he stil recognized the shouting voices. One was Kierla, yelling at another voice that belonged to Sergius Valentius, General Tyrranis's tax collector.
"Oh, gods," groaned Aiden. "He came early! That weasel came two days early!"
All at once, Kierla's shout changed to a cry of fury and fear, and Valorian's heart fell to his knees. He reacted instantly by clamping his legs to Hunnul's sides and grabbing the black mane. The stallion rocketed forward from a standstill to a full gallop down the trail through the trees, with Aiden right behind.
Like a thunderbolt, the black charged through the edge of camp, past the refuse pile, and out of the trees into the wide clearing where the corrals stood. At his master's command, he came sliding to a stop almost on his haunches and neighed in excitement. His sudden appearance brought everyone in the corrals to a shocked standstill.
Valorian's face tightened with rage when he took in the scene in the nearest large corral. One Tarnish soldier was leading four pregnant mares out through the gate with the obvious intention of taking them, and two more soldiers held a small group of clanspeople at bay with swords. The mares were the family's last brood mares of pure Harachan blood, the ancient
The two riders hurried on along the trail past the promontory and through a copse of tal pines. The path rose up a low slope, then dipped down again to the val ey floor and the wide, grassy meadow.
Valorian and Aiden went as far as the top of the slope before they stopped and looked down on the camp.
At first glance, the valley looked normal. A few horses grazed peacefully at the far eastern end where the grass was the thickest. Some goats and sheep were being herded by several smal boys to the stream that tumbled beside the sheer slopes of the northern wal . The camp itself lay quietly in the sunshine, just below the riders' positions.
Valorian's hand edged to his sword and silently drew it. Something was wrong. He could sense it.
The camp was too quiet. There was no sign of anyone among the tents or by the central fire, and the surrounding area was strangely empty.
"Where is everyone?" he murmured.
Aiden didn't hear him. "What did that?" he asked incredulously and pointed to Valorian's sword.
The clansman glanced at his blade, then stared at it in amazement. He had had no reason to draw it on the journey home and hadn't looked at it since that rainy afternoon on the ridge.
Something incredible had happened to it. The blade had been burned black by some powerful heat that not only scorched the blade down to the hilt, but also melted the edges in ripples at the point.
Instead of a straight, hammered blade, the sword looked much like a long flame. In disgust, Valorian slammed the weapon back in its sheath. The sword had been his father's and grandfather's before him.
Now it was probably useless, and short of stealing a Tarnish blade, he had no means of getting another.
"I don't know what did that," he snapped. "Now, where is everyone?"
Aiden gazed at the man for a long moment. He loved his brother too much to doubt him, but this mystery of Valorian's reappearance was beginning to bother him. He gestured toward the camp. "Most of the men and boys are' either out hunting or looking for you, and Mother Willa said something about taking the women out to gather herbs and greens. I don't know about everyone else."
The sharp tone in Aiden's voice brought Valorian's irritation up short. He didn't need to take his frustrations out on his brother. He was about to apologize when he heard a sound that turned his blood cold.
Voices had suddenly raised in anger from the corrals where the camp's best horses and breeding stock were kept.
The pens were near the stream and out of his sight behind some trees, yet he stil recognized the shouting voices. One was Kierla, yelling at another voice that belonged to Sergius Valentius, General Tyrranis's tax collector.
"Oh, gods," groaned Aiden. "He came early! That weasel came two days early!"
All at once, Kierla's shout changed to a cry of fury and fear, and Valorian's heart fell to his knees. He reacted instantly by clamping his legs to Hunnul's sides and grabbing the black mane. The stallion rocketed forward from a standstill to a full gallop down the trail through the trees, with Aiden right behind.
Like a thunderbolt, the black charged through the edge of camp, past the refuse pile, and out of the trees into the wide clearing where the corrals stood. At his master's command, he came sliding to a stop almost on his haunches and neighed in excitement. His sudden appearance brought everyone in the corrals to a shocked standstill.
Valorian's face tightened with rage when he took in the scene in the nearest large corral. One Tarnish soldier was leading four pregnant mares out through the gate with the obvious intention of taking them, and two more soldiers held a small group of clanspeople at bay with swords. The mares were the family's last brood mares of pure Harachan blood, the ancient
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