Beyond the Prophecy (13 page)

On the second day back at Zeda, Vatar took Arcas to confer
with Pa about the possibility of a road. They found him waiting for them
outside his hut.

Seeing them, Pa smiled. “I thought you’d want to talk soon.”
He gestured to the hide-covered door of the hut.

When they were all inside the privacy of the hut, Pa settled
down cross-legged on the woven grass mats. Vatar and Arcas copied him.

“Council has not been held on the matter of your road,” Pa
said without waiting for them to ask. “But I have been talking to as many
chiefs as will listen. Many are not opposed.”

Which wasn’t the same thing as being in favor, Vatar knew.
Also, “many” would not be enough. Dardani councils, clan or tribal, operated by
consensus. Not that
everyone
had to agree before something could be
done, but most did. Much more than a mere majority. And they’d need at least a
majority of supporters from each of the six clans, as well. Any one of the
clans could kill a proposal like this. “Who is opposed?”

Pa shrugged. “The Bear and Wolf Clans are likely to be the
most difficult. They always have tended to be more . . . tradition-minded.”

“Not the Raven Clan?” Vatar asked. Avaza’s clan. If she’d
heard that the proposal came from him, he had no doubt she’d try to raise
resistance to it.

Pa breathed out as if he didn’t like the answer and was
reluctant to repeat it. “Opinions in the Raven Clan are mixed.” He turned to
look directly at Vatar. “It would be better if this were presented as Arcas’s
project, rather than yours, in that quarter.”

Vatar stiffened. “Because of Avaza?”

“In part, I think. There are others who haven’t forgotten
the death of the last shaman, too.”

Arcas let out a sigh. “Looks like the sea-coast route,
then.”

“Not necessarily,” Pa said. “The Raven Clan could be persuaded.
And their agreement would bring over at least some of the Wolf and Bear Clan
traditionalists, who always like to follow the shaman’s example.”

“How?” Vatar asked.

Pa looked away. “Some have suggested that it would be better
for the Dardani if you were not the only one of us able to work iron and steel,
Vatar. If you could persuade your guild to allow others to be trained, it would
go a long way in all three clans.”

Vatar sat back, thinking. Most of his and Arcas’s business
depended on the trade with the Modgud. Trade which passed through the Dardani
and depended on the steel knives and arrowheads he produced. The business that
allowed him to support Thekila and the children—and allowed Arcas to provide
for Elaria and Caslar. It was a strike, not just at his unique status within
the tribe—which Vatar didn’t care about much—but also at his livelihood—which
did bother him. It smelled of Avaza, all right. Vatar looked over at Arcas, who
shrugged with a little half smile. So, Arcas wasn’t worried about their trade.
Or he knew something that Vatar didn’t. Vatar drew in a deep breath. “Even if
the guild doesn’t agree, I could teach a few apprentices here, at Zeda.” He
paused. “Likely not this year. I don’t have the supplies. And besides, Thekila
and I will be taking Theklan back to the Valley shortly after Midsummer and the
manhood test.”

“Yes,” Arcas said, still smiling a little. “Raw materials
would be the problem with that plan. Iron, steel, even the charcoal for the
forges would have to be carried out here from Caere.” He shrugged. “Well, I
suppose you could make your own charcoal during the winters near the Great
Forest. But it’d still have to be carted out here, somehow. Bulky stuff,
charcoal. Though not as heavy as iron and steel, of course. I can’t imagine
smiths, however trained, being able to actually do much work out here. Unless,
of course, we build another road—from Caere to Zeda. I doubt the tribal council
would approve of that, though.”

Pa looked up, smiling slightly, too. “So, you wouldn’t mind
if I made that offer?”

“Go right ahead,” Arcas answered. “Just . . . let them find
out the flaw in their plan on their own. And don’t promise that the apprentices
will be taking Vatar’s place any time soon. After all, we weren’t the ones to
propose it. It’s not cheating if you don’t point out your opponents’ errors.”

Theklan sat with his back to the Zeda waterhole, staring out
across the plains, his hands idly rubbing purple dye into the design on the
bridle. The manhood test was set for tomorrow. Within a day or two after that,
he’d be leaving this place—and Kiara—behind for a long time. Years. Everything
he wanted was here. This life. Kiara. He felt hollow at the thought of leaving
it all behind, even for a couple of years. It almost took his mind off worrying
about the test itself.

He looked up as a shadow fell across him and then Vatar
squatted down beside him.

For some reason, he was carrying his spear even here in the
village. He laid it on the ground between them.

“Nervous?” Vatar asked.

Theklan shrugged. “A little.” He glanced down at the bridle
in his hands. Did Vatar realize what this was? Well, if he didn’t mention it,
Theklan wouldn’t either. “I’ll be the youngest one out there. And, in some
ways, I don’t really feel ready for it.”

Vatar chuckled softly. “Few do, much as they look forward to
it—until it arrives. It’s a big change, after all. If it helps, in the Dardani
manhood test, all the boys succeed together.”

“Or fail together.”

“Mmm.” Vatar stared out at the plains. His expression turned
contemplative. “But, you know, I can’t recall a single test in my lifetime
where the boys failed. I’d have to ask Pa, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he
can’t remember one either.”

Theklan half turned toward him. “
Yours
could have
failed.” Theklan had heard lots of stories about that test around the village
the last few days. Vatar and the other boys of his year had been sent to hunt a
pair—a
pair
—of raiding Forest tigers. Everyone had expected at least
some of them to be killed. It was only the spears Vatar had made for them and
the plan he and his friends developed that had saved them.

Vatar shrugged. “Yes. In so many ways. But the old shaman,
Maktaz, blamed me for his son’s death. He structured that test to get his
revenge. He was even willing to kill twenty other boys just to get me. That’s
not going to happen to you.”

“Do you know what the test will be?”

Vatar shook his head. “Only the shaman knows that until he
announces it. Usually . . . well, sometimes it’s a test of strength or
endurance, like running a course around the
nearer
waterholes. Sometimes it’s a test of skill, like riding half-broken horses, or
a hunt—but nothing nearly as dangerous as Forest tigers.” He turned from
staring at the plains to study Theklan for a moment. “You know, Cestus once
told me . . . He was in charge of my manhood test in Caere. Did you know that?”
Theklan shook his head as Vatar continued. “Well, he once told me that the
trick is to make the test something difficult enough that the boys feel they’ve
accomplished something, but not so difficult that they’re actually likely to
fail.”

Theklan blinked, absorbing that. It did relieve his
fears—about tomorrow, at least. “That . . . that makes sense.”

Vatar laid his hand on Theklan’s shoulder. “You don’t have
anything to worry about, Theklan. You’ve already proven yourself when you tried
to fight a full squad of Temple Guards by yourself. Whatever the test is
tomorrow, doesn’t really matter.” Vatar picked up the spear, turned it over,
and handed it to Theklan. “I made this for you.”

Theklan really looked at the spear for the first time. It
looked very much like Vatar’s spear, but the blade on the side facing up was
incised with the soaring eagle of Theklan’s clan. His heart lifted like the
eagle. With a spear like this, how could he fail?

~

As the sun rose the next morning, Theklan gathered with the
other boys in the center of the village to hear what their test would be. Next
to the tall Dardani youths—all at least a year older than Theklan—he felt
hopelessly small by comparison. The spear at least made him look a little more
like he belonged in this group.

The boys assembled in the center of the square, grouped
roughly by clan. Three or four per clan, except that there was only one other
Eagle Clan boy and there were more Horse Clan boys—five of them. Their families
formed an arc behind the boys while the rest of the tribe gathered around the
edges of the square, leaving an open space for the shaman’s entrance.

The shaman arrived in full regalia—the raven mask on his
head and the cloak of raven feathers over his shoulders. The young
shaman—probably a year or two younger than Vatar—hadn’t had many opportunities
to wear his full ceremonial dress yet, having only officially taken over as
shaman last autumn when Trev returned to his own people. Theklan wished Trev
had waited another year. He’d feel a lot better with Trev officiating over the
manhood test. From the way the new shaman appeared to be milking every bit of
drama out of the moment, Theklan suspected he intended to make this manhood
test a memorable one. Just his luck. He’d have preferred something commonplace.

The shaman stepped into the exact center of the open space
and paused for effect, scanning the boys assembled in front of him. Theklan
gripped his spear tighter. With this new weapon, he was really hoping for some
kind of simple hunt—not of anything dangerous. Something that would allow him
to use his spear. Maybe an elk or one of the lightning fast little antelopes.
That’d be enough of a challenge.

“Congratulations,” the shaman said. “On arriving at your
manhood test. And on the test you are about to undertake. You will have the
opportunity to accomplish something that will benefit our tribe for generations
to come.”

Uh, oh. This doesn’t sound good.

“You will find and
capture
a wild horse. A male.
Young, if possible. And bring it back here.”

Theklan groaned. So did most of the other boys. Only the
Horse Clan boys looked at all enthusiastic. Though they had an improved sense
of all horses, the wild horses were the real living exemplars of their Totem
Spirit. Well, at least it wouldn’t be hard to
find
wild horses.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t have a chance. The wild horses dun color
exactly matched the color of the drying grasses at this time of year. And the
darker brownish spots that covered their bodies made their outlines hard to
recognize at any time of year. But the Horse Clan boys would be able to sense
the wild horses like Theklan could sense eagles and Vatar could sense lions.

Catching one, on the other hand . . . The wild horses were
smaller than the Dardani’s mounts, but also faster. And they could turn much
quicker, too. It wasn’t going to be easy to get close enough to try roping one.
Which is what they’d have to do if they were going to capture it. Besides,
Theklan didn’t have much faith in his ability to throw a lasso with the
necessary accuracy or distance. Hopefully some of the other boys would be
better at it.

One of the Horse Clan boys spoke up. “We won’t be
responsible for what happens
after
we bring one back, will we?”

Good question. The Dardani herdsmen, usually the Horse Clan
herders, periodically succeeded in catching one of the wild horses. They
really
wanted to breed that color into their herds. Only, the captured wild horses
never seemed to show any interest in the tame mares of the Dardani. And they
always
escaped within a day or two of being captured.

The shaman scowled slightly at being questioned, but grudgingly
answered, “No.” He paused only a moment before continuing. “Go and prepare. You
leave on your quest in one hour.”

Not much time.

Thekila came up to his side. “Come on back and get some
breakfast. Vatar has gone to saddle your horse for you.”

When Theklan had swallowed down some Dardani flat bread and
some goat cheese, Vatar came through the huts, leading a tall bay, not the
quiet grey Theklan usually rode. Theklan’s bedroll was tied behind the saddle
and a water skin and bag of food swung from the straps. So, this hunt might
take some time, then.

As Theklan swung up into the saddle, Vatar said quietly,
“Remember, the boys all succeed together. And don’t forget your own special
abilities.”

Theklan blinked. Surely Vatar didn’t want him to expose his
Powers in front of the other boys. “I—”

“Oh, I wouldn’t try throwing any rocks without touching
them. But you can see farther than the others, in more ways than one. Far Sight
and the eagles might come in handy.”

Theklan nodded. The other boys wouldn’t have any idea he’d
used magic, if he didn’t tell them. He held the spear out to Vatar with some
regret. “Guess I won’t need this after all.”

Vatar pushed it back toward Theklan. “Take it. Just because
you’re looking for wild horses doesn’t mean you won’t find something else—or
that something else won’t find you. Best to be prepared.”

The boys gathered on the edge of the village on the side
exactly opposite the Zeda waterhole. They all looked to the Horse Clan boys,
especially one who seemed to be the oldest.

“Can’t sense anything from here,” he said. “Everything’s too
muddled with the herds all around us. But my father said that they’d sighted
wild horses out by Ragged Oak Waterhole a day or two ago. We should go that
way.”

The others all nodded agreement, so he led off in that
direction. Theklan swung his horse into the middle of the group. Likely, that
was all he was going to get to do on this test. Just be part of the group.
Nothing he could tell Kiara about later, when he gave her the bridle. Nothing to
make her proud of him. Maybe he’d have better luck in the jarai tournament,
later.

~

The boys all reined in on the top of a low rise above Ragged
Oak Waterhole, with its sprawling, half-dead oak tree leaning against the
ground between them and the waterhole. In theory, they could see anything
moving for miles around. Either the theory was wrong or there just wasn’t much
to see.

“I don’t understand,” Bolan, as the oldest Horse Clan boy
was named, said. “Father said they were seen right near here only a couple of
days ago. The grazing’s good and there’s plenty of water. The herd should still
be in the area. But I don’t sense them.”

“I sense something,” another Horse Clan boy said. “Just not
enough to be a whole herd. Still, one or two separated from the herd might be
easier to catch.”

“Might,” Bolan agreed. “As long as it’s not separated
because it’s sick, injured, or just too old to keep up.” He let out a slow
breath and pointed to an area just to the west of the waterhole. “And our
horses need to be watered anyway. That way.”

The Horse Clan boys led out, following their sense of their
totem animal. It wasn’t far. The boys all stopped in a circle surrounding the
well-eaten remains of a wild horse that had obviously been brought down by some
predator.

“Lions, do you think?” the other Eagle Clan boy asked.

Both the Lion Clan and Wolf Clan boys shook their heads.
“Wolves,” one of the Wolf Clan boys said. “And they haven’t gone far. We
shouldn’t stay too long.”

One of the Raven Clan boys stared at the carcass. “Probably
sick or too old, anyway. Wolves usually take the weakest member of the herd.”

“Well, that explains why the herd left this area, anyway,”
Bolan said. “There won’t be wild horses anywhere near here. We’ll have to
circle around to some of the other waterholes and just keep looking.”

Theklan shook his head. Something didn’t feel right about
that. “I don’t know. Would you have sensed a dead horse?” The other boys all
turned to look at him like he was crazy. “Because I don’t think I’d sense a
dead eagle. A dying one, maybe. But that,” he pointed at the carcass, “hasn’t
been alive for at least a day.”

He turned his face skyward, seeking the eagle he sensed
nearby. Maybe the eagle’s vision could give a clue which direction to look. The
sky immediately above was filled with vultures, chased off by the arrival of
the boys, but still circling to come back as soon as the intruders left. The
eagle soared in a tight circle nearer to the waterhole. “What’s he doing up
there?”

Some of the others followed Theklan’s gaze.

“Just circling to take his turn at what’s left,” Bolan said.

Theklan shook his head. “Eagles are
hunters
not carrion feeders. At least, not unless they’re first at a fresher carcass
than that one. They will circle prey, hoping it will move out of tight brush,
though.”

“Just a rabbit, then.”

Theklan ignored the older boy, extending his Far Sight to
see what the eagle saw. Just shadows under one of the low-hanging limbs of the
oak, half-covered by a scrubby thorn bush. No, wait. That shadow had moved. He
sucked in a breath. “I don’t think so.”

Theklan dismounted and ran to the thorn bush, pushing the
prickly branches out of his way. He’d been right. A wild foal, only a few days
old by the look of it, lay hidden under the oak branch. The colt—he could see
enough to know it was male—lay on its side, obviously in some distress. Theklan
stood up and drew his long knife to cut back the branches so he could get to
the foal.

“What are you doing? We don’t have time for that,” Bolan
called.

“Oh, yes we do. Wouldn’t it be an insult to your totem
Spirit to leave a wild horse in distress if you could help it?”

“What wild horse?”

Theklan used his chin to gesture back toward the dead horse
without slowing his pruning of the brush. “Her foal, I think. That’s why she
didn’t run from the wolves when the rest of the herd did.”

The Horse Clan boys rode over at that. One looked over
Theklan’s shoulder. “Better put it out of its misery.”

“No,” Theklan said. “It’s just hungry and thirsty. It’s too
young to feed itself. Probably too young—or too scared—to go to the waterhole
for a drink.” Of course, if the foal had tried to go for water, the eagle would
have swooped down on it. He glanced up at the still circling eagle and encouraged
it to go find something else.