Lightnings Daughter (12 page)

Thankfully the man leaned against the big horse and ran his hand through the stallion's long, thick mane. He stood, stewing over his problem, his mind working like a boiling pot with bits of thought and feeling bubbling to the surface faster than he could follow them. He loved Gabria and did not want to lose her, yet he did not know how to win her back.

On the heels of those thoughts came the guilty notion that, perhaps, it would be better if he didn't win her back. She was a sorceress. She should be with other magic-wielders, people like Sayyed who would appreciate and support her talent.

Athlone was chieftain of the largest and most respected clan on the plains. Even if Gabria survived this journey and the clan chieftains changed the laws forbidding sorcery, there would always be suspicion, distrust, and hatred for magic-wielders. He was not completely sure he was ready to accept the controversy and the constant battle for acceptance.

With that thought, a bubble of remorse boiled out of his mind. He was a magic-wielder, too. But it was so much easier to ignore that truth, to let Gabria go, and to live peacefully as a mere chieftain with his clan-like his father and his father's father before him.

Athlone twisted the black mane into his fingers. He knew ful well he couldn't take that path and live with himself. No, winning Gabria's heart was the important thing; somehow he would have to find a way to reconcile himself with his talent. If only he knew what to do.

He shook his head in frustration and pushed himself away from the Hunnuli.

The black horse nudged Athlone's chest.
Sometimes the heart speaks dearer than the mind, lord
chieftain.

Athlone laughed humorlessly. "And sometimes they argue unmerciful y." He patted the horse and went back to the camp. After a word with the sentry, he retired to his smal traveling tent. For Athlone, it was a very long night.

CHAPTER SIX

Gabria and Nara stood in rippling grass on the point of a high bluff and looked down on the green plains below. The woman shielded her eyes from the noon sun and peered downhil to the caravan trail that wound over the rol ing grasslands like a giant snake. The route was not like the stone road near the fortress of Ab-Chakan. It was really nothing more than a dirt path worn into the ground by years of constant use. Nevertheless, it was wide and well marked, and the hooves of countless pack animals had pounded the surface to a rock-hard consistency. In some places the wagons and traders' carts had cut wheel ruts several handspans deep.

Even now, as Gabria looked up the road, she could see the dust kicked up by a distant merchant caravan heading north toward Pra Desh. She glanced toward the south. The semi-arid high plains had gradual y dropped down in elevation as Gabria's party had journeyed east, and the rough grasses and shrubs had given way to lush meadows, scattered copses of trees, and small sparkling streams.

Coming up beside her, Bregan sat back in his saddle and stretched his legs. "It's good to see that road,” he commented. "We should be about half way to Calah."

"We are,” Khan'di noted as he joined them. "But we need to be closer. We've got to get to Pra Desh within twenty days."

"Are you tiring of our journey already?" Piers asked in an icy tone.

Gabria glanced irritably at the healer as the rest of the men came up the hill. Piers and Khan’di had remained bitterly polite to each other, but their poorly hidden animosity was beginning to annoy her.

She sighed and leaned her arms on Nara's mane. After twenty days of constant traveling they all needed a change---especially Athlone. Gabria shot a look at the chieftain.

It was obvious something was bothering him. He was cool and distant to her, spoke to Sayyed only when he had to, and was short to everyone else. Gabria had tried several times to talk to him, but it was difficult to find time for privacy on the trail, and Athlone seemed to avoid her in night camp. After days of being ignored, Gabria was hurt and confused. It was much easier to deal with Sayyed. He was always there, warm and comforting with his ready smile and his easy wit.

Gabria could not help but wonder if Athlone had decided at last that he did not want her. The thought made her half-il with dread. She had given him time to make up his mind, but deep in her heart she had always believed he would finally come to accept her for everything she was. Now she was not so certain. She fought down the queasy feeling in her stomach and tried to dredge up some hope.

The one good thing to come out of the journey was Athlone's friendship with Eurus. Little by little, the man was spending more time with the horse, grooming him, feeding him special tidbits, or just talking to him late at night. The special bond between a Hunnuli and its rider was beginning to form.

Gabria was pleased for Athlone's sake. She decided it would be better if she did not interfere. Eurus knew what he was doing.

She pul ed her cloak closer about her shoulders. The sun was shining, but the early spring winds were cold and damp with approaching rain. Far to the northwest a gray line of clouds was forming along a storm front that would bring rain by nightfall.

Piers looked at the clouds and shivered. He had a bad cold, despite all of his precautions. "I wish we had time to stop at Jehanan Treld. I would like to be under a real tent before that rain hits,” he muttered.

The company urged their horses downhill and joined the great caravan route to the north. With luck, Gabria thought, we will be in Pra Desh in another fifteen to twenty days.

A few hours later, the party was riding through a narrow creek bed lined with eroded gullies and budding trees. Bregan suddenly held up his hand and brought the party to a stop. Athlone cantered his horse forward. The others stayed back and watched as Bregan pointed to a far hill where a group of horsemen were coming down the slope. The chieftain rode back, smiling for the first time in days.

"We have visitors,” he told them cheerful y.

Bregan trotted ahead to meet the seven riders cantering toward the road. They were led by a horseman holding aloft the dark red banner of the Jehanan chieftain, Sha Umar.

The two groups met along the road. Sha Umar and Athlone greeted each other like old friends while the Jehanan warriors accompanying their lord saluted the Khulinin and stared in surprised awe at the three Hunnuli.

Lord Sha Umar grinned through his neatly trimmed beard at Gabria and saluted her. "Greetings, fair lady. I see you have increased your number of black horses."

The sorceress returned his smile. She had always liked the Jehanan chief, for he had been one of the few lords to support her at the chiefs' council after Medb's death. She noticed his arm was still stiff from the wound he had received in the battle at the fortress, but his strong, tanned face was as healthy as ever, and his robust voice left no doubt as to his power and authority.

"Athlone,” he boomed. "You should have sent word you were coming! When one of my outriders told me he had spotted you on the road, I didn't believe him. I had to come out here to see for myself."

Athlone laughed. "My apologies, Sha Umar, but we're traveling fast. We hadn't planned to stop."

"At least stay the night. The treld is not far. Besides," he pointed to the sky "there's a storm coming."

The Khulinin chief fol owed his gesture to the dark clouds.

"I suppose we could use some supplies and a good night's sleep."

"Done!" Sha Umar exclaimed. He beamed with pleasure. "We don't have time for a feast, but I can promise you a good meal and a dry tent. Come."

The two chiefs rode ahead, side by side, and the others fel in behind.

Sha Umar lowered his voice so only Athlone could hear. "You are riding fast and without your cloaks. Your mission must be important."

"Yes," Athlone stated flatly.

"Would it have anything to do with Branth?"

Athlone assessed his friend for a moment before he answered. "Perhaps. But we do not want our journey to become common news."

"That's what I thought. Good. We can't leave Branth loose with Medb's old tome."

Athlone agreed. "The clans couldn't stand another war."

"Exactly. What can we do about that blasted book?"

"What do you mean?" the Khulinin asked carefully.

Sha Umar slapped the horn of his saddle. "That tome! It's caused nothing but trouble from the day it was found. What if you take it away from Branth and someone else gets his hands on it?" He paused as if embarrassed. "What would Gabria do if she had it?"

Athlone froze. "What are you implying?" he demanded, his voice harsh.

"Magic can corrupt, Athlone. It's simply a fact of human nature. That much power could lead even the purest to stray into greed, selfishness, cruelty, or vanity. Gabria is controlling her powers now, but what if that book of knowledge fel into her hands? How would she react? What would she do?" He looked at his friend. "More to the point, what would you do?”

Athlone was silent for a long while. When he finally answered, his voice was deeply troubled. "By the gods, I don't know."

"You'd better think about that on your way to find Branth,” said Sha Umar.

The Khulinin chief looked away, and the two men, without another word, left the road and led the party east toward Jehanan Treld. The winter camp of Clan Jehanan was only a few leagues away, sheltered in a wide, green valley not far from the Sea of Tannis. The Jehanan numbered several hundred, and their clan was rich in pride and tradition. Although their treld was close to the sea and they often fished and gathered food in its waters, they remained stock breeders and horsemen who followed their herds across the plains in the summer. They were fiercely loyal to their chieftain, devoted to each other, and hospitable to guests.

The Jehanan happily greeted Athlone and his companions, and they recognized Gabria from the summer before. Because of their gratitude to her for their survival, they stifled their fears and suspicions of her powers and welcomed her as befitted the lady of Clan Corin. They gave her the finest guest tent and a serving girl to tend to her needs. A bag of the clan's best oats was their gift for Nara. They were all amazed by the black colt and clustered around him in a distant but admiring circle.

Gabria was pleased by their efforts and, for her part, she hid her weapons, put on her skirts, and tried to blend in with the jovial crowd.

That night the travelers joined Sha Umar in the chief's big hall, a long, low building crafted of local stone and driftwood. The Jehanan chieftain was still unmarried, so his sisters served as hostesses and skillfully supervised the serving girls and the food.

The lord stinted nothing for his friends and had his finest wine brought out and the best of his remaining delicacies set before his guests. Because it was early spring, there was very little fresh food to offer. Still, the larders and storerooms of the treld yielded dried fish, sugared fruits, honey, bread, cheese, pickled gul s' eggs, and shellfish brought from the sea that day.

Gabria was delighted with the fare. Her clan had never traveled near the Sea of Tannis and had no access to seafood. She happily feasted on clams, crabs, and gulls' eggs and washed her meal down with the fine white wine.

As soon as the chiefs meal was cleared away, other clan members gathered in the hall. They pushed the benches and trestle tables aside and cleared a space in the center of the hal . The clan's bard brought out his pipes and invited several other men to join him with their drums. The torches and lamps were lit as the dancing began.

For a while, Gabria watched the dancers and clapped her hands to the music. For the first time in days, she felt comfortable, warm, and full. She drank wine freely, nibbled on the sweet cakes and dried fruits that were being passed around, and relished every note of the exciting, happy musk. Then, before she realized what he was doing, Sayyed pul ed her to her feet and whisked her into the boisterous dance. She barely had time to be surprised at the Turk's knowledge of the clan's dances before he whirled her away to the rhythm of the pipe and drums.

From his seat by Sha Umar's dais, Athlone leaned back and watched the pair dance the intricate steps. He had been drinking the Jehanan's strong wine steadily and was unaware that his pain and his feelings were plain on his face.

Sha Umar glanced at his friend and followed Athlone's stricken gaze to the fair young woman moving through the crowd of dancers. The Khulinin had been closed-mouthed and irritable all evening.

Now Sha Umar was beginning to understand why.

"You have not married the Corin yet," the Jehanan chief said bluntly.

Athlone shook his head and drained his cup to the dregs.

He held the horn cup out for more. "She was banished from the clan for six months. When she returned, we left for Pra Desh,” he replied.

Sha Umar filled the cup. "You picked up that young Turic pup along the way, I hear. He seems pleasant enough."

"Huh," Athlone grunted. "A half-breed."

"If he bothers you," the Jehanan commented, "you should send him on his way."

"Gabria asked him to come."

"Ah." The truth became abundantly clear, and Sha Umar smiled. "Athlone, as a warrior there is none better in the clans than you. As a lover you have a lot to learn."

Athlone glared at his friend, his brown eyes rock hard. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Look at her! Is that the face of a girl madly in love with her dancing partner? She likes him, yes, but she has been watching you al night. Her heart is as plain as day when she looks at you." Sha Umar leaned over and slapped Athlone's shoulder. "Don't worry about her! Let her dance and enjoy. Come, talk with me while we have a quiet moment. When we are finished you can sweep her off her feet."

The Khulinin stared at the older man for a long moment. Sha Umar's words made sense. Maybe his friend could see the problem clearer; he could understand what Athlone could not. For just a heartbeat the Khulinin lord almost accepted the truth of Sha Umar's words, then he saw Sayyed pul Gabria into his arms. The smile that lit Gabria's face brought Athlone's doubts pounding back. But before he could react to his anger, Sha Umar took his arm and pulled him away to the chieftain's quarters, where the two men talked long into the night.