Brian Pratt - Warrior priest of Dmon-Li

“The lady has given you our token,” he says. “So you will not be immediately turned away. But whether you are allowed to live is up to our chief.”

“Live?” James asks.

He gestures to the southern ridge and says, “Our camp lies beyond the ridge. If all is as you claim, you have nothing to fear. If not, you’ll not live the day.” He speaks to one of the horsemen and he quickly rides off toward the southern ridge.

Turning his attention back to James, he says, “Now, if you’ll all mount behind one of my riders, we’ll be on our way.”

“It’s okay,” James assures Jiron and Miko. “I think we’ll be alright.”

As Miko is mounting behind a rider, he says, “I sure hope so.”

Once they are mounted, Therin leads them toward the southern ridge. It takes them a half hour to reach it and when they crest the top, James hears a gasp from Miko. Looking out beyond the ridge, he sees a vast circular valley, surrounded on all sides by mountains. James is reminded of a meteor crater, one must have hit here some time far in the past.

The valley is filled with tents and horses. Thousands of horses run free within the valley. “This is where the Clans gather each year to ready the tribute to the Empire,” Therin tells him as he rides along side of him.

“Tribute?” James asks.

“Of horses and gold,” he explains.

“How many clans are there?” he asks.

“Ten,” he replies. “But four have yet to put in an appearance. The Windrider Clan claims the gathering area as part of our territory, but during this time, all the clans are allowed to come.”

“I take it you don’t all get along?” James asks.

Shaking his head, he says, “No, not all. Most work together for mutual benefit, to make the clans strong.”

As they continue to work their way down the side of the valley toward the Gathering, James looks out over the tents, now able to discern the different patterns of the various clans, each clan having its own unique pattern of color and shapes. The tents, which at first looked to be randomly scattered about, can now be seen as being grouped according to each clan.

Near the center of the gathering, James can see tents bearing the pattern of the Windrider Clan. It’s by far the largest group of tents in the valley, probably due to the fact it’s their territory.

When they reach the edge of the gathering, others begin to notice them riding behind the clansmen and the word of their arrival begins to spread. A crowd gathers around them as they progress toward the Windrider tents.

Therin exchanges words with some as they ride but most are simply following along after to see what’s going on. Upon nearing the Windrider tents, James observes a clansman enter the largest tent and after a few moments, an aged man exits. Though he’s seen a few years, he still has strength about him and a commanding look.

“The Chief of the Windriders,” Therin tells him. “My father.”

Coming to a halt in front of his father, Therin dismounts and greets him with a hug. He then begins talking to him in their language.

James can hear their names being said during the course of the conversation. At one point, he holds up the token Lyria had given him and the Chief’s eyes widen and several in the crowd begin muttering.

Therin turns toward them and says, “My father would like to meet the friends of the Lake Lady.”

Dismounting, James and the others come forward. Giving him a bow, he says, “Greetings, Chief of the Windriders.” Miko and Jiron both bow just like they saw James do.

“Greetings,” the Chief says. “Never has the Lady given our token to another. This is indeed a strange occurrence, though what to do with you remains unclear. Outsiders are not allowed here, yet you bear the favor of the Lady.”

“Therin,” he says to his son, “find them a place to stay.” Turning back to James, he says, “When the moon is full, the meeting of the clan chiefs will take place. At that time, we shall decide what to do with you. Until then, you can move freely among us.”

As if that’s that, he turns his back upon them and returns within the tent from which he’d emerged.

Therin returns Lyria’s token to James and says, “That will be tomorrow night.” He points off to the east and says, “The Black Tails have just arrived. By tomorrow night, all the clans should be here.”

He leads them away from his father’s tent over to a smaller one set up a dozen yards away. Opening the flap, he says, “You may use this tent while you’re among us.” Once they’ve entered, he follows them in and closes the flap.

“What do you think they’ll do with us?” James asks him.

Shrugging, he says, “The laws are clear about outsiders. To be in the Valley of the Gathering is to die. But yet you bear the token of the Lady and that is something they must strongly consider. They will not wish to anger the Lady.”

“Why?” Miko asks him.

“She is beloved by all,” he explains. “Many have been the times when she’s appeared and helped us in our times of need. She even saved my father’s life once when he’d been bitten by a snake. We all had begun the final rites but she appeared, gave him some medicine and ministered to him. I needn’t tell you how happy we were when he again walked out of his tent.”

“No, I don’t think death will be your fate,” he says. “What it may be, I couldn’t even begin to guess.”

“I suppose being here for a day wouldn’t be that bad,” Jiron says as he lies down on a blanket.”

“If you wish to remain in this tent,” he tells them, “you may. It might be the best thing to do. Some of our warriors are brash and easily offended. It wouldn’t do for trouble to happen before the chiefs have a chance to come to a decision. If you should leave your tent, try to stay within the Windrider’s camp, they all know you are under our protection until the meeting of the chiefs.”

James says, “Alright.”

He lifts the tent flap and leaves.

When the flap shuts closed, Jiron says, “Think they’ll allow us to leave?”

Shrugging, James says, “I don’t know. Thank goodness Lyria had given us that token or there’d be a war going on right now.”

“There still may be one if they decide against us,” observes Jiron.

“Let’s hope not,” Miko says from where he’s stretched out on one of the blankets. “We have at least till tomorrow night before anything will be decided.”

“True,” agrees James.

From outside the tent, a sudden outcry erupts. James glances to the others and says, “I’m going to go see what’s happening.”

The other two get up and join him as he goes outside the tent. The warriors are talking amongst themselves and James can see they’re angered about something.

Seeing Therin talking to several warriors who are obviously distraught, he goes over toward him. Therin glances at him as he approaches and James asks, “What’s going on?”

Pointing to the north, he says, “The Grey Wolf Clan has just arrived.”

James looks and sees a large body of horsemen coming over the ridge. Along with them is a herd of horses, most likely part of the tribute. “And why is that causing such a problem?”

“That they’re here, none,” he explains. “It’s that they’ve brought twice the number of warriors as is agreed upon.”

“And that’s bad?” he asks.

“It’s an insult!” Therin says with anger. “To bring so many here, within our territory, outrageous!”

His father exits the tent and looks in anger at the Grey Wolf Clan approaching the assembled tents. Warriors of the various clans stop what they’re doing and watch their approach.

James glances to his father and can tell he’s seething within. When he looks back to the approaching riders, he can see there’s someone else with them, someone who’s obviously not a clansman. Riding at the head of the riders is a man in armor and a chill runs down James’ spine when he sees him. A memory comes to him of a storm tossed sea and a man in armor wielding magic.