There could be nothing more important for a young warrior rather than his honor and the honor of his family—and Gray Shadow had never drawn a line between these two. She was the youngest daughter of the head of the Crimson Alder clan, but she believed that she should in no way be inferior to her brothers and older sister and vowed to protect the lands of Alder on a par with them. Shadow was always true to her word and honored the ancestors. Only one thing stood in her way. Only one thing prevented her from feeling herself a worthy child of the great clan: her name.
Her secret name was beautiful—Singing Spring. Her childhood name—kind and simple, as it should be: Timid Butterfly. However, her adult name was not good at all. Gray Shadow Lurking Among Sleeping Trees And Amongst Rustling Grass. Was it a worthy name for a daughter of the great clan? Definitely no. What was it telling her friends and, more importantly, her rivals? Yes, she could run fast. Yes, she was skillful in concealment. In the forest and the steppe grass, no one could notice her approach. Even Fire Storm, the eldest of her brothers, an experienced warrior and guardian of the Heart of the Ridge, could be caught off guard by her. But was that enough? No. The hunter must not only stalk and hide. The hunter must track the game, chase it and kill it. And the warrior, all the more, must stand brave and face the enemy boldly and be ready to fight till the last drop of blood; and, of course, the Shadow yearned to become a warrior of the clan one day.
She received her adult name after the first Ascension when Butterfly became the hunter of the clan. Someone could say that she was just unlucky. However, the truth was sour but clear: this name was well deserved. On the Hunter Ascension, she sat far too long in the steppe grass, hiding from the elders, waiting for the best moment to slip to the camp unnoticed and take the precious trophy. And what did she find there? Turkan’s tail, a brushy gray tail—that’s all that was left for her. She was so frustrated and disappointed that she lost all her determination and did not finish the rite properly.
Since then, many winters had passed, and Shadow preferred not to reminisce about her first failure. Instead, she was doing her best to prepare for the next Ascension. She decided to take the warrior’s path as quickly as possible and get a new name, prominent and strong. The true warrior only looks forward and never turns back.
The Crimson Alder was one of the ten oldest steppe clans. It owned the lands in the northwest of the Great Steppe. On the north, the border was outlined by the grand river of Atarana, and on the west—by the Rim Ridge.
As vast as the Great Steppe was, as various and numerous traditions were in its every corner, the Ascension rite was by far the most important. In the lands of Crimson Alder and other western clans, the Ascension was held early in the spring, right after the First Shoots day.
Once a year, a clan member was allowed to leave the old path and take a new one. The hunter’s path was quite popular, as it gave both: food to the table and game to the heart. However, Crimson Alder was famous not for its hunters but for its battle archers. Since the time of the Exodus, nobody could match their skills. Even archers of the White Night clan ranked second.
For some teheni, Ascension was no more than an old tradition, a tribute to the ancestors. It is not the Ascension itself but many days and years devoted to training and perfecting your art—that separates a master from a novice. However, Ascension still meant much more than just a tradition for many. It was a turning point in life when teheni could not only choose a new path but become a new self. Among those who praised Ascension was the head of the Crimson Alder clan, Shadow’s father, Spring Thunder Whose Tremendous Ramble Is Heard for Hundreds of Miles Around.
Spring Thunder valued the path of the warrior above others. Every year, he chose the best young hunters who decided to enter this path and rode with them to the western border of the clan to guide their Ascension. The head of the clan had many important matters to attend to, yet he never neglected this one. And no one ever doubted that Shadow would receive her new name from her father. She trained hard and did everything she could to deserve this honor rightfully.
The spring came early this year. It was the end of the month of the Owl when the last traces of snow were melted by the bright sun, and the young grass sprung out towards the warm light. On a sunny morning, the party of twenty-four hunters led by Spring Thunder and guarded by his spears left the Alder Halls and headed northwest along the bank of the great Atarana.
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The Head of the clan rode first on a mighty gray stallion. Spring Thunder was stately and had broad shoulders. His loose dark-blond hair reached his back. He was not very tall—not surprising for a descendant of the Alder—and looked like a simple warrior of the clan, clad in a linen shirt and pants. His boots were made of young noo-noo skin; only a golden band over his forehead and golden bracelets on the shoulders denoted his status. Nevertheless, everyone around was well informed about who was heading the party, as a standard-bearer rode next to Spring Thunder, and the crimson banner with an arrow-like tree was weaving high.
Shadow rode right after the captain of her father’s guard and two elder spears. It was the sharp features of her face and her bright brown eyes that Shadow took after the father. Her eyes seemed amber in the morning light, and the face, although sharp, did not look too edgy but rather keen and acute, fine cut by a master mason. With everything else, especially her jet black hair and light, flexible waist, Shadow looked like her mother. Soaring Lily was different from the children of the Alder, as she came from the Sharp River clan, and everyone around praised her for her beauty and grace.
The weather was clear but windy. Watchtowers of the Alder Pier disappeared over the horizon soon after midday. The dry road led them west along the bank of Atarana with an endless plain stretching far into the horizon by the left-hand side. In six days of a steady and easy ride, they arrived at the Grass Reach. To meet them, a line of gray peaks rose on the horizon, led by Chipped Mountain, which summit, surrounded by hills, stood slightly off the line and was by far the highest.
There were a few reasons why Spring Thunder chose this place for the Ascension of his best warriors. Grass Reach was a small land located right on the clan’s border, between the northern end of the Rim Ridge and the Atarana river. Further to the west, the grassland gradually turned into a desert—the domain of the sand lords began there. To the north—lay romean and hilistian lands. The Grass Reach was one of the places that future warriors of the clan would have to protect. But most importantly, the Grass Reach was one of few places in the lands of Alder where the magical creatures could still be easily found.
Before a hunter could ascend to a warrior’s path, he was expected to show what he had learned so far. Hunting and killing your perfect prey was the only way to do it. And what could make a better prey rather than a magical creature?
At the last noon of their travel, the party stopped on the hill, standing right before the foot of Chipped Mountain. A camp was set, and the tents in the color of fallen leaves rose. Scarlet banners fluttered in the air, filled with anxiety and excitement. Everyone was now thinking only about the upcoming Ascension. At sunset, Spring Thunder was sitting before his tent and looking at the mountain, whereas all the young hunters gathered around him to listen to the rules.
“One year follows another,” spoke the clan’s head. “The world is changing, and we are changing with it. Soon each of you becomes stronger. Entering a new path is something that should be treated seriously. You are about to become warriors of the clan, and you need to be sure that it is your path and that you achieved your best as a hunter—the Ascension will give you a chance to prove both. You’ll have two days to prepare for it and then two days to find and kill your perfect prey. Elders will be waiting back at the camp. Be prepared to tell the true story of your hunt and then face a challenge and fight one of us.” Spring Thunder fell silent, but no questions followed. After waiting for a while, he continued: “If we like your story and your battle dance, you will be given a new name. Remember, though, as the rules say, you must hunt alone. It is forbidden to help each other in that. You can travel all around Chipped Mountain to find a good game. You can go as far to the west as the Dry River, but don’t cross it. There are no moon wolves in the vicinity of Chipped Mountain, but you could still meet a stone pango, so be ready and choose a place for your night halt wisely. Lastly, a phoenix lives on a neighboring peak to the south. Do not climb to its nest—that is a deadly venture.”
It was hard to fall asleep from all that excitement and anticipation. Shadow lay in her tent, turning back and forth on the sleeping bag, and until midnight she could not close her eyes. Then, she drowned in a sea of strange, vivid dreams, none of which she could remember afterward.
When a thin red line appeared over the hills in the east, she was already awake and ready to meet a new day. She took her sword, left the camp, went down to a small river, and started practicing her dance there. The sun rose over the hills, and Shadow stopped and looked at the dark silhouette of Chipped Mountain. A bright spark streaked the sky to the right of the mountain’s summit. Pretending that this is a shooting star, Shadow made a wish to be strong and never retreat from a challenge. A shooting star flies downwards and disappears; however, this spark rose, glowing brighter and brighter, and flew sideways until it hid behind the summit. Witnessing the phoenix awakened made Shadow finally feel that her Ascension was about to begin.