Lightnings Daughter (15 page)

"Gabria,” he said, brushing Eurus harder, "I came on this journey to help you, not get in your way.

From now on I will stand behind you and al ow---"

Gabria pounced on the last word. "Allow!" she cried, coming around beside Eurus. "Don't patronize me with your pride-riddled speeches, Athlone. I don't deserve it!" She glared at him. "What are you really talking about?"

For days Athlone had been wondering what he would say if he had time alone with Gabria. Now he had that time, but nothing was coming out as he had planned. He wanted to gather her in his arms and feel her warmth and love. Instead all he could see in his mind was her slim, strong body in Sayyed's embrace, and the more the image played in his head, the greater his anger waxed. The jealousy grew until all of his rehearsed speeches and truest desires were burned in its heat. His days of frustration, anxiety, and confusion suddenly crested in a flooding wave of anger and confusion that came sweeping out in a reckless torrent.

"I'm talking about Sayyed!" he shouted at her.

"Sayyed!" Gabria gasped in surprise. "What does he have to do with this?"

"Everything. You love him. You had him in your tent the other night. Al right! If he's the one you've chosen, then take him. I wil not hold you to our vow."

Gabria was shocked. She did not know whether to laugh or cry. Of al the things that had gone through her mind in the past few days, she had never imagined Athlone could be jealous. How could she have missed it? She stepped toward him, raising her hands to implore him. "My tent. Yes, I did---"

But he was angry beyond reason. "No. I've heard enough. Our betrothal is broken." He turned his back on her and strode swiftly into the darkness. The wind swirled his cloak like a gesture of farewell, and he was gone.

Gabria started after him. "Athlone! Wait! You haven't heard anything,” she cried, only she was too late. Her hands clenched into fists. "The gods blast that man!" she shouted with frustration and hurt. For just a moment, a pale blue aura glowed around her hands in the darkness.

Gabria,
Nara warned softly.

The sorceress glanced down and saw the telltale glow, the first sign of the Trymian Force building within her. The force was a powerful spell that fused the energy within a magic-wielder into one destructive force. It could sometimes appear as an instinctive reaction in times of strong emotion.

Gabria had learned well the idiosyncrasies of the Trymian Force when she'd accidentally killed one man and almost kil ed Athlone the summer before.

Quickly she hugged her arms around herself and forced her emotions to calm. The blue aura faded and, with it, her anger. Gabria shook her head. She should have known better than to approach Athlone when he was tired and worried about their stop at Reidhar Treld. Now their situation was worse.

Athlone had exploded in one of his rages and broken their vow of betrothal. Gabria felt cold.

She pulled her cloak tightly about herself and glared at the night, toward the spot where Athlone had disappeared. She could not go on like this, with her emotions in constant turmoil. For the sake of her survival she would have to put her life in order. She would concentrate on her journey and the confrontation with Branth, and deal with Athlone and Sayyed later. As much as they meant to her, they would simply have to wait. Her survival came before the demands of her heart. Perhaps afterward, if she was still alive, she would have the freedom and the time to settle such affairs of the heart. Until then, she would avoid close confrontation with the two men. There was no other way.

With a heavy step, Gabria walked alone toward the creek. The sheltering shadows of the night gathered around her like a suit of black armor.

* * * * *

Piers was still awake, sitting alone by the fire, when Gabria came back from her walk. She knew the healer was waiting up for her, but this night she did not want to talk. Instead, she bent over his shoulder, gave him a quick hug goodnight, and slipped away to her tent.

Piers watched her go. He understood the fears she faced and the uncertainties with which she wrestled. He knew how much her love for Athlone and her friendship for Sayyed were troubling her. He just wished she would talk to him about all of it. He might not have the right advice---how could you advise a sorceress? Yet he could listen and be a friend if she needed one. He knew more about her than anyone else alive.

Piers shook his head and began to bank the fire. Perhaps he had been foolish sitting out here in the damp, waiting for her to come back to camp and talk to him. As much as he knew about Gabria, there was so much more he did not know. In the strange, difficult year since her clan's massacre, she had learned the skil of reticence, to keep her own counsel, and to do as she decided on her own. Those were traits she had acquired to survive.

The healer went to his tent and crawled into his warm coverings. No, he decided, the waiting was not wasted. His gesture told Gabria he was there if she needed him, and he knew her wel enough to realize she would be grateful for that.

* * * * *

The travelers broke camp the next morning in a haze of golden sunshine. High clouds dotted the deep blue sky, and a light wind whisked the leafing trees.

Bregan had had a restless night. The old warrior was stiff and aching from his fall, and he grumbled under his breath as he helped load the packhorses. He tried not to look grief-stricken when the other men brought in their mounts to be saddled.

Athlone watched stonily from the back of his gray stallion. His dark eyes were ringed from lack of sleep, and his mouth was drawn tight with a hidden sadness. The shadow of his morning beard made his face look gaunt.

Gabria watched him with mingled sadness and regret. The pain of their argument still ached in her mind. Yet when Sayyed, who deftly read the expression on her face, winked at her, she could not help but smile.

She looked over the rest of her companions as they mounted. The group was heavily armed, dirty, travel-worn, and weary. They looked more like a rabble of thieves and exiles than a nobleman and the finest of the powerful Khulinin clan. Gabria hoped the Reidhar were in a generous mood that day.

She pushed down her nervousness and rode Nara in behind Piers's mare. Keth, carrying Bregan behind him, and the other riders fell in line with Athlone. The travelers left the caravan road and struck northeast at an easy canter. If all went well, they would be at Reidhar Treld by midday.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The day blossomed into a glorious, warm spring afternoon as the travelers followed the faint trail that led to Reidhar Treld. The land was much like Clan Jehanan's holdings: gently rolling hills, patches of woods, open meadows, and lush val eys. Like the Jehanan, the Reidhar had their winter camp near the sea, but unlike their neighbors to the south, the Reidhar had given up many of the ancient nomadic ways and were turning more often to the water. Year by year their herds of horses dwindled and more and more of the clanspeople chose to stay at the treld during the summer to fish the teeming waters of the inland sea or mine the rich veins of copper in the hills nearby. More than any other clan, the Reidhar had lost the ways of Valorian.

Evidence of the changing social patterns were quite visible to Gabria as Nara crested a ridge that looked down over the Reidhar settlement. She had never visited the Reidhar clan at their treld, so the differences between her own clan and this one were startling. The Corins had been a smal group and one of the most nomadic of the twelve original clans. The Reidhar clan was larger, and its roots went deep into the place they cal ed home. A huge, ornately decorated stone hall graced the center of the treld, and many stone buildings replaced the usual tents. There were permanent structures housing the clan artisans, as well as storehouses and barns. A wide, shallow stream meandered down the valley's center, past the meager herds of stock animals, and flowed a short distance to the sea.

From her vantage point, Gabria could look down the val ey to where the creek flowed between two gentle bluffs and tumbled out to a white beach. Even from the ridge, she could see the boat sheds, drying racks, and docks that crowded the sands. Beyond those, the smal fleet of tiny fishing boats bobbed on the sparkling water.

"No wonder their horses are such poor beasts," Keth, the warrior in front of Bregan, said aloud.

"The clan is nothing but a bunch of fisher folk."

"They can stil fight, so keep a civil tongue in your head," Athlone reminded him sharply.

"They couldn't last summer," the warrior muttered.

Lord Athlone ignored him. Fisher folk or no, the Reidhar were still clan and kindred in blood and spirit, and despite Lord Caurus's refusal to fight Lord Medb the year before, Athlone felt that the Reidhar still deserved the respect due any clan. Lord Caurus was a great warrior and fiercely devoted to his people. It was not cowardice that had forced him to leave that disastrous gathering, it was his own independent nature and an unfortunate distrust of the Khulinin.

Athlone nodded to his companions, and the party rode downhil toward the busy treld. On a rise nearby, an outrider drew a horn and sounded a warning to the camp below. At the edge of the treld, another rider left his post and galloped down the valley to find the chieftain. By the time Gabria and her party reached the fringe of the encampment, Lord Caurus and his hearthguard were gathered on horseback in the middle of the path. Behind them clustered other warriors and clansmen, until the entire way was blocked. Their faces were wary as Athlone and Bregan spurred their horses forward to meet Lord Caurus.

The Reidhar chieftain was obviously startled by Lord Athlone's sudden, unexpected arrival at his treld. Caurus made no attempt to hide his suspicious, angry expression, but he remembered enough of his manners to greet Athlone first. He raised his hand. "Hail, Khulinin. Welcome to Reidhar Treld."

"Greetings, Lord Caurus," Athlone replied evenly. He eyed the heavily armed men around the chief.

"This doesn't look like much of a welcome. Were you expecting someone else?"

"We were expecting no one. Least of al you."

Athlone shrugged. "I did not have time to send messengers. Our mission is urgent. We had not planned to stop, but we are in need of supplies and extra horses."

"We have no extra horses,” Caurus said belligerently.

The Khulinin chief clicked his tongue. "Lord Caurus, do I need to remind you of the dictums of clan hospitality? Just last spring you were rumored to be the most generous host in the clans. Have you forgotten in one short year?"

"I have not forgotten." Caurus shifted in his saddle, his ruddy face wary. "You are welcome, Lord Athlone, but we cannot al ow that sorceress to enter our treld."

With difficulty, Athlone swallowed his rising anger and stared coolly at the red-haired chieftain.

"Why not, Caurus? She has been welcomed by other clans. We wil not leave her at the edge of camp."

"We are about to celebrate our Birthright ceremony. If that heretic were to enter our treld, Amara would curse our clan forever."

The other Reidhar warriors muttered in agreement. The clan wer-tain kicked his horse forward and deliberately dropped his hand to his sword hilt.

Inwardly, Athlone groaned. He had expected reluctance and suspicion, but not outright refusal. It was their bad luck to have arrived so close to the clan's Birthright ceremonies.

"Gabria,” Athlone called over his shoulder. "Come here and bring the foal."

The startled Reidhar fell back a step, and a hint of fear passed over Caurus's face as Gabria rode Nara forward to stand by Athlone. The colt and Eurus came with her.

A long moment passed before anyone spoke. The men of the Reidhar stared in open amazement at the fair woman and the magnificent black horses.

Finally Athlone asked, "Would Amara bless Gabria and her Hunnuli with a healthy colt if she were displeased?" His tone was deceptively pleasant.

This possibility stunned Lord Caurus. His face grew as red as his hair as he snuggled to find a solution to the dilemma Athlone had thrust on him. He never imagined the sorceress could be anything but evil. And yet, if that were true, how could she now have
three
Hunnuli, one a baby? The Hunnuli despised evil and avoided it at all costs. Still . . .

Caurus suddenly threw up his hands in disgust. "The sorceress and her Hunnuli may stay.
But,
" he glared at all of the party "only for one night."

Athlone barely nodded in reply. "Your generosity is overwhelming."

The Reidhar wer-tain slammed his fist on his sword. "Lord Caurus, you cannot allow this!" he shouted. "That . . . female is a magic-wielder! I don't care how many Hunnuli tag after her, she's a profaning heretic. The goddess will never forgive us for bringing her into camp."

"Gringold,” Caurus said in annoyance, "I have made my decision. Abide by it!"

"As wer-tain of this clan, I cannot let her evil endanger our people."

"And as chieftain of this clan, it is
my
decision to make,” Lord Caurus thundered. "I wil not dishonor the Reidhar by refusing aid to another chieftain."

With a snarl on his lips, the wer-tain backed down, but he savagely reined his horse over to Nara and leaned forward, his eyes blazing like a wolf's. The wer-tain was a big man with heavy muscles and the overbearing attitude of a bully. He bore the scars of many battles and carried a full array of warrior's weapons.

Nara pinned her ears back and snorted a warning. Gabria remained still, her expression cool and unruffled as the wer-tain shook his fist at her.

"Lord Caurus has given you one night, Sorceress. If you do anything that reeks of magic, I'll slit your throat."

"Thank you, Wer-tain Gringold, for your gracious welcome," Gabria said with all the politeness she could muster.

"Gringold," Caurus snapped. "Return to the treld and prepare quarters for our guests."

They al breathed a sigh of relief when the wer-tain saluted his lord, spurred his horse away, and disappeared into the treld.

A very dangerous man, Gabria thought to herself. Her mouth tightened to a thin line, and she sadly remembered the Jehanan. She knew full well the Reidhar would never offer her companions a welcome like the one Sha Umar's clan had provided.