Prince of Malorn (Annals of Alasia Book 3)

by Annie Douglass Lima

  Ernth would have preferred to be the hero of the tale, of course, but being the storyteller was the next best thing. At least he got to make sure everyone had a good laugh at Korram’s stupidity in throwing his spear, and later enthrall them with the thrilling scene where the Prince of Malorn had tumbled over the falls with the snowcat in his arms. Thisti and Sench forgot to eat in their excitement, listening open-mouthed as Ernth described the dramatic underwater battle, most of which he hadn’t actually witnessed. The details were easy enough to invent, and Korram, grinning, didn’t bother to correct him as Ernth described the life and death struggle beneath the waterfall.

  “I’ve never heard of anyone surviving two separate snowcat encounters, let alone so close together,” his father finally said at the end of the tale. All the others nodded their agreement. “Everyone at the Mid-Autumn Gathering will be impressed,” he went on. “Korram will probably get a bigger army now.”

  And I’ll make sure they all hear about it, Ernth decided. It would be fun to be the one to introduce the former Lowlander who not only had managed to get Accepted but had safely spent the night with one snowcat and killed another, and had already begun changing the way Lowlanders treated their people. This year’s Gathering would be one that no one would ever forget, and Ernth intended to do his part to make sure it went down in legend.

  They tanned the snowcat’s hide, and when it was ready, Thorst helped Ernth cut it apart and sew the pieces into two very impressive-looking jackets. The Prince of Malorn, for all his luck and courage, couldn’t fashion clothes if his life depended on it. But he helped extract the snowcat’s teeth and bore holes in the tops under Relth’s direction.

  “You two are gonna have the best necklaces in the world,” Thisti told them enviously as she divided the teeth into two equal piles and helped to thread them on strings of braided horsehair. She lowered her voice. “Next time you hunt a snowcat, I’m coming with you no matter what!” But she avoided meeting her parents’ eyes.

  Ernth tied his necklace on proudly, knowing full well the looks of respect it would earn him at the Gathering. His friend Otchen had a wolfskin tunic and a matching necklace of wolf’s teeth, but Ernth’s jacket and necklace were even more impressive.

  Thest showed Korram how to cut long strips of leather and helped him fashion them into a bridle and reins for Clinja so that he could have his belt back. Korram knew some of his cuts were a little uneven, and the bridle he ended up with wasn’t as well made as any of the Mountain Folk’s. Still, it served its purpose, and he had made it mostly on his own, so Korram was proud of his work.

  What with all the tanning and sewing they all had to do – goatskins as well as the snowcat’s pelt – he and the others kept busy for the next few days. Everyone was eager to be off when they finally broke camp and started out again for Gathering Valley. They would have to travel fast to be there by the full moon when the event started, but at least they had plenty of dried goat meat now, as well as several days’ worth of lumjum and other food. They wouldn’t have to take much time to gather more along the way.

  “What will happen at the Gathering, Mother?” Thisti demanded as they hiked out of the valley.

  “Plenty of fun things,” Charr told her. “Don’t you remember from last time? There will be lots and lots of other children to play with, and everyone will have stories to tell of the things they did this past year. On the first day, the Newly Accepted will get their horse marks, then on the next night they’ll all be introduced to everyone. The day after that is when anyone’s who’s been Accepted can get married if they want to. And every day there will be games and contests and activities for people of all ages, and every evening we’ll have supper with different families and sing songs around their campfires. Some people will go off hunting and fishing with their friends, and others will stay around and trade goats or clothes or weapons. There will be lots going on for seven whole days, and it will all be fun!”

  “I can’t wait!” squealed Thisti, skipping along between two of the goats. “When are we going to get there? When?”

  “In three days, if we make good time,” Thont told her.

  Sure enough, it was almost exactly three days later that they arrived. Like the others, Korram found himself growing more excited the closer they got. On the last day of travel, they could look down from the top of every ridge they hiked up and see other families heading in the same direction. Korram kept his eyes open for Thel, but if her family was among them, she wasn’t close enough to identify.

  As they hiked up a final steep slope, they found themselves surrounded by other Mountain Folk, all talking excitedly and laughing, old friends greeting each other with hugs, new ones introducing themselves and their horses. Everyone admired Korram’s and Ernth’s jackets and necklaces, and several people remarked that Korram had an odd name, but not one seemed to suspect that he was an outsider. He had loaded Clinja with some of the family’s cooking supplies and the tent he shared with Ernth; and walking along beside her, spear in hand like everyone else, he was proud to think that he truly blended in.

  At the top of the slope, Korram paused to stare at the view below. They were at the rim of a large bowl-shaped valley, possibly the crater of an extinct volcano. The flat area at the very bottom was mostly empty except for a group of people standing around a bonfire, but Mountain Folk families were camped all along the sides. Hundreds of tents were scattered across the grass, clusters of people talking and laughing around them. Children darted here and there, and goats and horses milled everywhere. It was chaos, but joyful chaos. Korram could feel the excitement flowing up around him.

  They found an empty spot about halfway to the bottom, and Korram helped to unload the horses as they began to set up camp. But he and Ernth had scarcely unrolled their tent before long-lost friends and relatives began appearing to say hello. Ernth and the others kept dropping what they were doing to hug people and exclaim how good it was to see them again and ask how their year had been. Korram, who didn’t know anyone there, found himself doing most of the work when the others got distracted.

  “Otchen, this is my friend Korram,” Ernth announced, grabbing Korram’s arm and turning him around. “He and I killed a snowcat together a few days ago!”

  Otchen, a young man about their own age, grinned at Korram. “A snowcat, really? You’re so lucky! I’ve never even seen one close up!”

  “He just got Accepted this autumn,” Ernth went on before Korram could answer. “There’s his horse, Clinja. And you’ll never believe who he was before he got Accepted!”

  Otchen cocked his head to one side and regarded Korram curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “I was a Lowlander,” Korram told him modestly.

  Otchen gaped at him. “You’re joking,” he gasped. He turned to stare at Ernth as though waiting for his friend to confirm or deny this unbelievable claim.

  “It’s true,” Ernth asserted. “He really was. When he came up from the Lowlands he didn’t know how to do anything, but my family and I taught him everything he needed to know, and then he went and got himself Accepted. Can you believe it?”

  Otchen’s eyes were still wide. “A real live Lowlander, getting Accepted! Everyone will be so excited when they find out!” He grinned at Korram again. “So what’s it like in the Lowlands?”

  “Well, you can see for yourself if you want to,” Korram told him. “I’m going to try to recruit an army to come back down there with me.”

  Otchen looked confused, but Ernth broke into the conversation before his friend could ask what an army was. “And that’s not all. We’ve got a surprise for you and your family.”

  “A surprise?” Otchen looked around. “What is it?”

  Ernth pointed to the goats that his aunt and uncle were trying to shoo into the enclosure the family had finally formed with their circle of tents. “Aren’t you curious about why we brought so many goats to the Gathering?”

  “Yes,” Otchen admitted. “Everyone else has about e
ight, maybe ten at the most. I didn’t remember your family even owned this many.”

  Ernth laughed. “They’re not ours. They’re yours!”

  Otchen stared at him, perplexed, and Ernth launched into a detailed explanation of the note and how Korram had reclaimed the goats from Lantil. When he was done, Otchen turned to Korram, wide eyed once more. “I can’t believe it. You actually got our goats back for us? Do you know how hard it’s been for my family these last two years? And now we have more of them than we ever had before!”

  “The Lowlanders were eager to give them back,” Korram hastened to remind him. “They’re very sorry about your sister’s death, and they’ve been caring for your goats for you all this time, waiting for a chance to return them. They’re not the villains everyone thinks they are. Just ask Ernth.”

  Ernth shrugged. “They did share their food with us,” he admitted, “and some of it wasn’t as disgusting as I’d expected.”

  Korram chuckled. For Ernth, that was quite a compliment.

  Otchen left to go tell his family the good news and call them to help collect their flock. “We’ll have to finish unpacking later,” Ernth advised, “because it looks like old Choruth has started with the horse marks for the Newly Accepted down at the bottom of the valley. You’d better get down there and get yours.”

  “Get my what?” Korram was confused.

  Ernth laughed. “No one’s told you about that yet, have they? Well, you’ll find out soon enough. Here, take off your jacket and leave it in the tent.”

  Korram didn’t feel like taking off his snowcat jacket, which had earned him plenty of admiring glances already. But he had learned by now that it was useless to try to persuade the Mountain Folk to divulge information before they were ready, so he pulled it off without argument and tossed it into their tent.

  Ernth frowned at his leather tunic. “That won’t do. You’d better wear one of mine.”

  “What’s wrong with this one?” Korram protested as Ernth dug in his pack and pulled out a sleeveless goatskin vest. “I’ll be cold in that.”

  “The sleeves on yours will get in the way,” Ernth told him, as though it should have been obvious. “Just hurry up and put it on. You’ll be warmer if you wear it with the fur side in.”

  Korram obeyed, glad that no one would ever know he hadn’t thought of that up in the snow.

  “Call Clinja,” Ernth ordered next, “and let’s go.”

  Korram obeyed once again, while Ernth informed the rest of the family that they were going to get Korram his horse mark.

  “I want to watch! I want to watch!” squealed Thisti, jumping up and down. “Can I come?”

  “Me too! Me too!” shouted Sench, not to be left behind.

  In the end, nearly the whole family came. Ernth led the way, and Korram, rubbing his bare arms and shivering in the brisk autumn wind, followed. Clinja walked beside him.

  They wove their way downhill between tents, animals, and people, until they came to the floor of the valley. Ernth led Korram to the opposite side, where a noisy crowd had gathered. Korram saw that many of the people – all about his age or a little younger – had brought their horses and were dressed in sleeveless tunics like the one he had on. Everyone else present seemed to be family or friends of the young people, and all of them looked proud and excited.

  “Korram!” called a voice. He turned to see Thel running toward him, her horse, Avalanche, trotting along behind.

  “Oh, Korram, it’s so good to see you again!” she exclaimed. He felt his face turn warm as she flung her arms around him, but he hugged her back.

  The others were staring. “Who’s this?” demanded Ernth. “How do you know her?”

  “This is Thel,” Korram explained. “I met her while I was undertaking the Rite of Acceptance.” Quickly, he introduced Ernth and the others.

  “Let me go call my family to meet you,” suggested Thel. “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the crowd.

  “You didn’t tell us you met someone on the Rite of Acceptance,” exclaimed Ernth’s sister, Charr, her voice full of significance. They were all staring at him as though he had neglected to share something exciting.

  Korram shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important.”

  “He didn’t think it was important,” Ernth hooted, doubling over with laughter. “Can you believe it? The Prince of Malorn met a girl on the Rite of Acceptance and he didn’t think it was important!”

  Before Korram could ask why it mattered, Thel reappeared with a dozen relatives in tow. There were more introductions and welcoming hugs – Mountain Folk didn’t shake hands – and Thel proudly informed everyone that Korram was the former Lowlander she had met while getting Accepted. Her parents nudged each other and exchanged knowing grins, and Thel’s cheeks turned pink. Then everyone was urging them into the center of the crowd.

  “I can hardly wait,” Thel confided to Korram, grinning as she rubbed her bare arms. “I’ve been waiting for this for years!”

  “What exactly is about to happen?” Korram wanted to know. “No one will tell me what’s going on.”

  Thel laughed. “You don’t know about the horse mark?”

  “No.”

  “Come on; I’ll show you. Let’s get to the front where we can see.” Thel grabbed Korram’s hand and pulled him through the crowd, dodging nervous horses and squeezing between noisy people.

  They found themselves beside what had recently been a large bonfire, now burned down to red-hot coals. An elderly man – Choruth, apparently – wearing thick leather gloves stood beside it, and as they watched, he bent to pull something out from the coals. The object consisted of a long handle attached to a metal shape at the bottom, glowing white-hot. It looked like a brand, such as Lowlander farmers sometimes used to mark their livestock. Korram wondered if the man had purchased it from a blacksmith or somehow made it himself. Funny: he had never noticed brand marks on any of the Mountain Folk’s goats or horses.

  “All right, who’s next?” Choruth called into the crowd.

  “Me! Me!” cried half a dozen voices, but a girl near the front jumped forward before anyone else could. The crowd shushed each other as the man nodded and beckoned her over.

  “My name is Layth,” she announced to them all, “and I got Accepted in the spring. This is my horse, Frostbite.” She draped one arm proudly around the dapple-gray mare that had followed her over.

  “It’s true. It’s true,” called a group of people who must have been Layth’s family.

  “She’s my daughter, and she did get Accepted this spring,” affirmed one of the men, stepping forward. “That’s her horse, who she earned the proper way, without anyone’s help.”

  The man with the brand paused, looking around as though waiting to see if anyone would deny this. When no one did, he beckoned the girl to come closer. “All right, give me your arm.”

  The girl cast a grin over her shoulder at her family as she approached him. She held out her left arm, and the man seized it firmly just above the elbow.

  Korram gasped, suddenly realizing what was about to happen. “No!” he exclaimed, horrified.

  “Quiet!” Thel nudged him, watching intently as the man raised his brand and pressed the hot metal into Layth’s shoulder.

  Korram cringed, unable to tear his eyes away as a thin wisp of smoke rose from the girl’s seared skin. But she made no sound, clenching her jaw against the pain and smiling bravely as the man finally pulled the brand away and poked it back into the coals. There on her shoulder was a painful-looking burn forming the rough outline of a horse.

  “That’s the horse mark?” Korram breathed in disbelief as the crowd burst into cheers.

  A woman, perhaps Choruth’s daughter, picked up a goatskin pouch from the ground nearby and tossed a splash of water over the girl’s burn. Her family surged forward, hugging her, examining the mark, congratulating her.

  Korram turned away, feeling ill. Blood didn’t bother him, but the thought of standing the
re and letting someone press white-hot metal into his flesh was more than he could stomach. “There’s no way they’re doing that to me,” he growled through clenched teeth.

  Thel, misunderstanding, squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Oh, don’t worry. We all get a turn.”

  Ernth wormed his way through the crowd and appeared beside them, Clinja in tow. “There you are,” he exclaimed. “Are you ready to get your mark?”

  “No,” Korram snapped indignantly. “I can’t believe this! Do you really expect me to let him brand me like a cow? I’ve never heard of anything so barbaric!”

  Ernth laughed and wriggled an arm free from his tunic and jacket to show Korram a horse-shaped scar on his own shoulder. “We all survive it, Prince of Malorn. It’s part of getting Accepted. Everything you went through to get Clinja will have been for nothing if you don’t take the horse mark. Without it, no one will listen to you tomorrow night.”

  “Who’s next?” called the man, as if on cue.

  “No,” Korram protested under his breath as Ernth pushed him forward. But he had already resigned himself to going through with the ordeal. If this was the only way to get his army, he would just have to do it.

  Then Choruth was nodding to him, and other disappointed young people stepped back to their places to wait for their own turns. “Come on over here,” the old man encouraged him, smiling.

  Korram swallowed hard, stood as tall as he could, and turned to face the crowd. “My name is Korram,” he called, “and I’m a former Lowlander, but I got Accepted this autumn. That’s my horse, Clinja.” He pointed.

  A gasp went up. All conversation stilled as everyone within earshot turned to stare at him.

  “A Lowlander got Accepted? Can it be true?” he heard someone whisper.

  “Just like in the legends!” someone else whispered back.

  “It is true,” announced Ernth proudly, marching forward to stand beside him. “I’m his friend; he’s been living with my family since late summer. He was a Lowlander, and he did get Accepted, and you’d all better listen tomorrow evening because he came here to talk to us all about something important.”