Lightnings Daughter (3 page)

From the promontory where she stood, Gabria could see the entire encampment of black felt tents, corrals, and scattered permanent buildings that dotted the banks of the river. Beyond the Goldrine, large herds of horses and livestock grazed on the lush grass of the foothills. The Khulinin were a large, wealthy clan, and Gabria had hoped to make a home with them. Now she was not so sure. Two hundred years of hatred and suspicion of sorcery ran too deep in the beliefs of the people to be put aside in a few months. Gabria doubted the clans would ever completely accept magic---at least in her lifetime.

Even Lord Athlone could not help her cause. He had admitted at Gabria's trial before the gathered chieftains that he, too, possessed the talent to wield magic---but only because that admission would help sway the council in its deliberation of her crimes. Yet he had never used sorcery before his people, and they seemed content to ignore his talent so long as he never utilized it. Gabria, on the other hand, was not only the sole survivor of a massacred clan, she had the audacity to train as a warrior and the temerity to openly display the forbidden powers of magic. She was too different to be acceptable.

There was but one creature who totally accepted Gabria for everything she was: Nara.

The woman raised her fingers to her lips and blew a piercing Piers whistle. The guards on either side of the doors ignored her, but they could not ignore the magnificent mare that neighed in response to the whistle and came gal oping up the main road through the treld.

The mare was a Hunnuli, a rare, wild breed of horse that had once been the steeds of the ancient sorcerers. Like all Hunnuli, Nara was larger and more intelligent than other horses and impervious to magic.

Gabria's sad face slowly broke into a smile as the huge black horse galloped to the hall and slid to a stop. The young woman knew every clansperson nearby was watching the beautiful mare, and her heart warmed with gratitude and joy as the Hunnuli reared before her rider in the timeless obeisance of respect and honor.

Gabria pulled herself onto Nara's broad back.

Are we leaving?
Nara asked in Gabria's mind. The Hunnuli's telepathic thoughts were gentle, and full of love.

"I am to go to the temple of Amara. The Khulinin want me out of sight for a few months," Gabria replied irritably.

The mare dipped her head.
It is better than death.

Gabria's lips twisted in an ironic smile. "Yes, I guess you're right." She paused to secure Athlone's bundle to her belt, then said, "I must leave by moonrise, but I would like to stop at Piers's tent first. They did not say I had to go empty-handed."

We'd best hurry, then. The moon has already reached the mountaintops.

Nara trotted down the path to the edge of the treld and the spot where Piers kept his shelter. The healer's tent had been home to Gabria for the past six months. Piers had discovered her hidden identity shortly after she had joined the Khulinin, but he had kept her secret despite the danger to himself. He had offered her sanctuary, security, and friendship when she needed them most.

Gabria slid off the mare and walked into Piers's tent. The large, dark shelter was quiet and empty; only a small lamp burned on the table. The girl looked around in relief. Piers was not there. By law, the healer would have to shun her if she came near him, and she knew neither one of them could bear that.

She found her old pack, the one she had salvaged from the ruins of her home at Corin Treld, and began to gather her belongings. There was not very much: a few tunics, a leather jerkin, boots, a blanket, a small wooden box with her precious flint and steel, and a sheath for her father's dagger, though she had lost the weapon itself. She borrowed a cup, a pot, and a few cooking utensils from Piers's hearth. Last of all she collected her bow and sword.

When Lord Medb had fal en at Ab-Chakan, Gabria thought she was through with the pants, the sword, and the skill of a warrior. Now she realized she would need them again to survive her banishment. She took off her full skirts and put on a pair of heavy winter pants, which would be warmer and more practical than a skirt. Then, reluctantly, she belted on her short sword. She would be alone through a long, cold winter, and even though she would be near a treld, wolves, bears, cave lions, and other creatures were known to prowl the valley and the hills. She would feel safer with a weapon at hand.

Gabria was about to leave when she noticed a full leather sack lying near the coals of the hearth fire. A red cloth was fastened to the- sack-red for Clan Corin. She peered into the bag and smiled. Piers had found a way to say good-bye. The bag was packed with food: dried meat, beans, horse bread , dried fruit, and a flask of Piers's own favorite wine. There was enough food to satisfy her for many days.

Grateful y she took the bag and gathered her loose belongings into two bundles.

Outside the tent Nara waited patiently. When Gabria appeared and began arranging the bundles over the mare's withers, Nara nickered softly.
The priest watches.

Gabria surreptitiously glanced around Nara's chest and saw Thalar standing in the shadows of a nearby tent. He was watching them with obvious anger and disgust.

"He does not obey Lord Athlone's command,” she replied, annoyed.

He is not the only one who watches.

The sorceress sprang onto the horse's back and tightened the golden cloak around her neck. "Then let's show the Khulinin how a Hunnuli and her rider leave camp."

Nara trotted back to the main path. She paused for a moment to sniff the chill evening breeze, then lifted her head and neighed a chal enge that rang throughout the camp. The unexpected noise brought people running out to look. The stallions in the far pastures answered with their own clarion cries, and the dogs in the treld barked furiously.

Nara proudly neighed again and reared, her powerful front legs pawing at the pale stars. Gabria felt her own joy soar to meet the Hunnuli's. She drew her sword and answered Nara's call with the Corin's war cry.

The mare leaped forward. Her eyes ignited with a golden-green light as she galloped down the road through the treld. Her hooves pounded the hard ground.

Gabria clung to the mare and raised her sword above her head. "Farewell, Khulinin!" she shouted to the dark tents and the people who stared after her.

From the hal 's entrance high on the side of the hil , Lord Athlone smiled as he watched them go.

He should have known Gabria would not slink out of the treld. He raised his fist in a silent salute, which he held until the horse disappeared into the deepening night.

*****

It was ful y dark by the time Gabria and Nara passed the Khulinin burial mounds and found the tiny stone temple of Amara nestled in a copse of trees atop a hill. Because the temple was used only a few times during the year, it was small and very plain. A rectangular stone altar sat across from the only door, and above the altar a large circular window faced the east and the rising moon.

Gabria left Nara outside to graze, carried her bundles into the temple, and built a small fire in one corner away from the window. Chewing on a piece of dried meat, she curled up in her blanket and cloak.

For a long while she stared at the fire and tried not to shiver. A cold draft blew through the window and made the fire dance.

Though Gabria was apprehensive, she was not frightened or worried about Amara's reaction to her presence in the temple. Despite Thalar's warnings, she had always felt secure and accepted by the Mother Goddess. Nothing had changed that, but this temple was so quiet and strange! She could hear Nara grazing among the trees, and she thanked Amara with all her heart for the black mare. Gabria was used to noisy, bustling camps and the constant company of people. This silent solitude was frightening.

She could not imagine being alone for a long period of 'time, and without the Hunnuli for company, Gabria doubted she would be able to bear this banishment for six months.

It would be six very long months without Athlone, too.

Gabria cuddled deeper into her blanket and let her thoughts wander to the Khulinin lord. When they'd first met, Gabria had hated Athlone. He was a wer-tain then, commander of the Khulinin warriors, and his father's most trusted adjutant.

He, too, had befriended a Hunnuli, a stallion named Boreas who later died at Lord Medb's hand.

Gabria quickly learned that Athlone was a forceful, commanding, sometimes impetuous man whose sole loyalty lay with his clan. He had been immediately suspicious of Gabria's disguise, and when he discovered the truth of her identity, he nearly kil ed her. It was only through the unexpected help of magic and the support of Nara and Boreas that Gabria was able to fight him off and eventually convince him to help her. What had begun as mutual animosity and distrust grew to respect and love.

Unfortunately, their love was not being given much of a chance to blossom. The deep feelings they shared were very new to both of them and had not been fully explored. Gabria worried that a six-month separation might prove too rocky for the tenuous roots of their new love.

Thinking of Athlone reminded Gabria of the bundle he had given her. She had not yet opened it.

Quickly she pul ed the wrapped parcel out of her pile and untied the leather thongs that held it together. Several small items tumbled onto her lap, each one hastily wrapped in large pieces of woolen fabric.

The young woman was pleased to see that each scrap of fabric was large enough to cut for mittens or to piece together for a small blanket. Best of all, a packet of bone needles was tucked into one of the parcels. Gabria began to unwrap the packages and found a little stone oil lamp, its wick hole plugged with wax to hold the oil, a pair of mittens lined with rabbit fur, a hatchet, and a warm cap.

Last of all, she found a long, narrow package bound with a golden armband. The band was smal and solid, traced with an interwoven design of fanciful horses. It slipped over her hand and settled comfortably on her wrist. Armbands were a favorite gift among betrothed couples, and Gabria sensed the band was Athlone's way of reassuring her of his love. The thought pleased her.

Finally she uncovered the narrow package. The gold wool fell away, and a dagger slid into her hand.

Gabria gasped. The dagger blade was forged from steel, a rare, valuable metal crafted only in the city of Rivenforge in the kingdom of Portane. The handle was braided silver, formed to fit the hand and inset with small rubies and topaz. Red for the color of the cloaks of the Corin clan, gold for the Khulinin.

Tears formed in Gabria's eyes as she turned the dagger over in her hands. The weapon was a priceless gift given from the heart. Women did not usual y carry such weapons, but she had owned another dagger once. It had been a gift to her father from Lord Savaric, and she had found it in the smoking ruins of her home. It had been her only physical remembrance of her dead father.

Unfortunately, on that afternoon when she faced Lord Medb in the duel of sorcery, she had transformed her father's dagger into a sword to slay her clan's murderer. The weapon had been destroyed with Medb's body.

She realized then that Athlone understood how much the old dagger had meant to her. The armband was his gift of love, but the jeweled weapon was his gift of hope that she could build a new life.

Gabria wiped the tears from her eyes with a scrap of wool and carefully laid the gifts aside. She found her empty sheath, slid the dagger in, and fastened it to her belt. The weight of the weapon felt good on her side. She curled up in her blanket once more and watched the fire die to embers.

As the coals' glow dimmed, Gabria promised herself that she would endure this exile. She would go back to Khulinin Treld in the spring and do everything in her power to build a good relationship with the clan and with its chieftain. She owed herself nothing less.

CHAPTER TWO

Gabria did not realize how much the events of the previous summer had drained her emotional y and physically until she had time to relax. After only a few days at the temple, she caught a cold and came down with a fever and racking cough. For days she stayed in the smal temple, curled up on her crude bed, lost on the paths of her thoughts. She had barely enough strength to eat or fetch water and firewood. Nara kept watch over her and waited worriedly for the illness to pass.

One cold night as Gabria tossed in a feverish, restless doze, she thought she heard the sound of Nara's hooves gal oping up to the temple. There was the soft thud of footfal s, then she sensed another person close by. She struggled to wake until a cool hand soothed her forehead and a familiar voice spoke softly to her. A cup filled with a warm herbal drink was brought to her lips. She drank without opening her eyes and settled down into a peaceful sleep.

Piers stayed with her through the night and slipped away at dawn, leaving behind a stack of wood, a filled water jug, and a simmering kettle of soup. He did not come back after that night---he did not need to. His herbal drink eased Gabria's symptoms and his brief, comforting presence revived her interest in survival. Gabria was not sure how he'd known of her il ness. She could only thank her goddess that the healer cared enough to risk the visit.

The food Piers had given Gabria sustained her through the days of her malaise. However, as her il ness eased and she regained her strength, she realized the supply of food was dwindling rapidly. She would need more than a few beans to keep herself alive. One cold, cloudy afternoon she forced herself to take her bow, mount Nara, and hunt in the hil s for meat. To her pleasure, her skil with the bow had not diminished. She brought down a smal deer, and that night she feasted on venison.

The exercise and the meat were just what she needed, and Gabria felt stronger than she had in days. After that she went out every afternoon to ride Nara, or to hunt, fish, or gather food in the hills.

Her health and her good spirits returned in ful measure. She was pleased to notice that, as she grew stronger, her intense grief for her family began to ease, taking with it the bitterness and anger that had burned within her during her struggle for revenge. She was left with a growing sense of contentment and release.