Unbeknownst to him, the power of his sorcerer's blood began to build in every fiber of his being. In his last moments of lucid thought, he remembered his sword lying only inches away from his fingers. He gave a frantic, tremendous lunge that brought him close to the weapon. He stretched every muscle and tendon in his arm to reach the hilt.
Gringold paid no attention to the heaving of his victim. He was too certain of victory. The Khulinin would be dead in seconds. He closed his eyes and bared his teeth as he squeezed harder.
All at once, Athlone's fingers touched the cold leather wrapping the hilt of his sword. In that moment, his rage and desperation fused with the magic within him into a furious surge of power. A faint aura of blue, so dim it could not be seen in the morning sun, glowed around his fingers as he clamped onto the sword. The energy burst outward from every muscle and nerve ending, and galvanized into one mighty effort. He brought the sword up and over, hacking into the curve of Gringold's unprotected neck.
The blade cut into muscle; blood splattered over both men. Unseen, a pale burst of blue sparks exploded out of Athlone's hand as the magic power seared into the wer-tain's body.
Gringold died instantly. He jerked once and slowly toppled over Athlone, his dead face twisted in a grimace of surprise and rage.
Athlone gasped a lungful of air. He felt the pain and roaring in his head recede into darkness. A blessed quiet stole over him, and, as his sword fel from his hand, he passed into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER NINE
A shocked silence hung over the crowd for several moments while everyone stared at the two men lying in the dust. Then the quiet was shattered. The clanspeople broke loose in excited talk, sporadic cheers, and wailing from Gringold's relatives.
Gabria drew a long, ragged breath and slumped against Nara. She tasted blood in her mouth where she had bitten her lip.
He lives, Eurus told her, and she nodded grateful y.
Piers and the Reidhar's healer stepped out of the crowd at the same time and hurried to their men.
They pul ed Gringold's heavy body off Athlone and checked the two warriors. The clan healer glanced at Lord Caurus and shook his head.
Caurus gritted his teeth. The duel was over. Surgart had chosen his champion.
The ring of clanspeople began to break up. Several men approached the wer-tain's body and bore him away to his family. The travelers gathered around Athlone.
"He's not badly hurt,” Piers assured them. "He has mostly bruises and flesh wounds."
"Then why do I feel like a stampede just ran over me?" Athlone croaked. The chieftain opened his eyes and squinted at the anxious faces around him.
Sayyed flashed his bright grin. "A stampede did run over you. A very large and ugly one."
Carefully, with Piers's help, Athlone sat up. "He's dead?"
They al nodded.
"I had the strangest feeling when I struck him. I thought I . . ." Athlone stopped and looked at his hand.
Piers and Gabria exchanged wondering glances.
"Most men have strange feelings when they're being strangled," Bregan said.
Piers quickly stanched the bleeding in Athlone's shoulder, and he and Bregan helped the chief to his feet.
Athlone breathed deeply in the warm spring air. "Saddle your horses. We're leaving." His words were hoarse from his bruised throat, but his tone was adamant.
"My lord," Piers protested, "you can't possibly ride."
At that moment, Lord Caurus joined them. Most of his belligerence was gone, replaced by a modicum of concern and regret. "Lord Athlone, surely you will rest here tonight."
The Khulinin chieftain glared at him. He was aching, his shoulder was on fire, his face was battered and bruised, and he was utterly exhausted. He was in no mood to placate this bad-mannered lout. "You said one night, we stayed one night. I will not remain in this treld another hour."
Caurus's face flamed bright red. He started to say something, but Athlone straightened, let go of Bregan, and walked away without another word. The others followed. Caurus made no effort to go after them.
While Athlone sat on a stool and Piers fussed over him, Gabria and the men packed their gear, saddled the horses, and prepared to leave. When they were ready to go, Athlone turned his gray stallion over to Bregan and mounted Eurus. Gabria hid a smile of joy and relief. Since none of the Reidhar came to bid them farewell, the party left the treld without fanfare and rode west up the valley to rejoin the caravan road.
They had traveled only a few leagues from the treld before Piers took a close look at Athlone's pale face. He called an immediate halt and ordered the chieftain to rest. Ignoring Athlone's protest, the party stopped and made camp along the banks of a small stream. Gabria arranged the chief's blankets on a soft mat of leaves and grass; Piers gave him a mild concoction of poppy extract and wine. Athlone decided he was too weary to argue further. He drank the wine and was asleep in moments.
Bregan, too, lay down to sleep in the warm sun, and Valar and Keth went hunting. The others stayed near camp and relaxed.
Gabria changed from her woman's skirts back into her pants and warm tunic, which were more practical and comfortable than skirts on a journey like this. She had learned to enjoy the easy movement and the lighter weight of pants. She pushed back her hair and went to start a cooking fire. She hoped the hunters would find something. The supplies were dwindling fast.
"Rider coming," Secen shouted. The travelers drew together and watched warily as a horseman, leading a pack animal, came up the valley. The man, who wore the yellow Reidhar .cloak, stopped at the edge of camp and saluted respectful y. He did not seem surprised to find them so close to the treld.
"Lord Caurus ordered me to bring you these supplies and to offer his apologies. He hopes that when the Khulinin visit again he will be able to prove his hospitality."
"I hope so, too,” Secen muttered.
Piers stepped forward to take the packhorse's lead rope. "Thank you, rider. Please take our greetings to Lord Caurus."
The man nodded civil y and left the way he had come.
Gabria, Piers, and Sayyed unpacked the horse, and after hobbling him with the rest of the string, examined what Lord Caurus had sent.
"For a man who claimed to have had a bad year, he certainly was generous,” Gabria said, holding up a nutcake.
Sayyed looked over the parcels and bundles. "He sent everything Lord Athlone asked for."
"And then some," Piers remarked. "Oh, look at this." He held up a careful y wrapped cask of Reidhar's famous honey wine. "I could almost forgive him his rudeness."
"Do you suppose the man is feeling a little guilty?" the Turic asked in heavy sarcasm.
"Guilty as a horse thief,” Gabria replied with satisfaction.
She and Piers repacked the extra gear while Sayyed fed the horses. Next they laid out the delicacies and set about preparing the evening meal. Shortly before sunset, the two warriors returned with several rabbits and a small deer. The plain, meager meal Gabria had expected was transformed into a feast.
The smell of roasting meat awakened Bregan and Athlone and lured both warriors to the fire. The chieftain sat down and leaned back against a fallen tree trunk while Gabria poured a cup of wine for him.
"You're a sight,” she said, studying his battered face. She wanted to say more, to tel him how relieved she was that he was alive, but the words stuck in her throat. She had made her vow to avoid further difficulties with Athlone and Sayyed until later, and she was going to stick by her decision. She handed him the wine cup and watched as he drained it, then she filled it again.
Athlone tried to grin, but the pain of his swollen face made him wince. He said nothing, for talking stil bothered his throat, and watched Gabria return to the fire. The wine warmed his stomach, and the evening breeze was pleasant on his face. An unexpected contentment stole over him. For the first time in many days, he did not worry or grow angry or morose. He was too happy to be alive and in the company of these companions. Even Say
yed.
The young Turk was sitting nearby, keeping an eye on the roasting meat and repairing some tears in the sleeve of one of his robes. Athlone noticed that even though Sayyed poured his attention on Gabria, she was keeping her distance from both of them. She had hardly spoken to either man in two days.
Perhaps there was some hope, Athlone thought to himself, that Gabria's relationship with Sayyed was not what he imagined. Perhaps he had jumped to conclusions too soon. Already he regretted his precipitous ending of their betrothal the night before last. He had not planned that, and he had not given Gabria a chance to talk. Now she might never tel him how she felt out of injured pride and hurt.
Athlone sighed. He had made a serious mistake by getting so angry; he had set their relationship back almost to the beginning. If he ever wanted to let her go, now was the time to do so. However, Athlone knew he could not give her up so easily. Even if she loved the Turk, the chieftain wanted to try to win her back. He slowly drank his wine and watched Gabria as she helped prepare the meal.
When the food was cooked, the travelers gathered around the fire to enjoy a hot meal and the gifts sent by Lord Caurus. They ate so much stewed rabbit, roast venison, cheese, fresh bread, winter squash, and nutcakes that no one bothered to move after the meal was over. Everyone lounged by the fire, redolent with food and wine. Athlone was stil weak from loss of blood, but the bone-deep exhaustion was gone, and he propped himself by the tree trunk and relaxed in the tranquil evening.
Keth brought out a wood whistle he had made and piped tunes to the rhythm of the dancing flames. Sayyed uncovered his gaming stones to take his chances with Bregan. Gabria stayed by Piers, watching and listening to the men around her.
Sayyed, sitting across the fire from Gabria, played the stones and smiled at her with barely concealed hope and yearning. He was not the least upset by her sudden withdrawal from their increasing intimacy. She had not shut him out completely, and the caring that still lurked in her smile and her eyes fed his hope. He would simply bide his time.
A pale moon hung over the camp, and the night was cool with a mild breeze. An owl hooted nearby. Athlone was about to return to his blankets when all at once, Gabria sprang to her feet.
"Athlone, someone is near the camp!"
The chief sat up, and the men jumped to their feet, their hands reaching for their weapons. Beyond the firelight, Nara neighed in the darkness. Her call sounded to Gabria more like a greeting than a warning.
They peered into the darkness around them, until Bregan pointed to an indistinct, pale form on the edge of a grove of trees near the camp.
"Come forward,” the old warrior shouted.
A cloaked figure shuffled hesitantly into the farthest reaches of the firelight.
"Are you the Khulinin party?" a muffled voice called.
Athlone struggled to his feet. "Who wants to know?" he answered.
"I am looking for the Corin girl. The one they call sorceress,” came the reply.
Before Athlone could stop her, Gabria stepped forward. "I am here." She sensed no danger from this person, but she was glad when the three Hunnuli appeared out of the night and gathered around her.
The shrouded figure gasped and stepped back at the sight of the huge, black horses.
"I am Gabria of Clan Corin," the sorceress said gently. "Don't be frightened. What is it you want?"
The stranger seemed to take courage from Gabria's calm voice and edged into the firelight. "I saw you at the treld, but you left before I could talk to you." With trembling hands, the stranger pushed back the hood of the bright yellow Reidhar cloak and revealed the face of a woman. She was not a beautiful woman and never had been. Years of toil and living out in the dry wind and sun had taken a hard tol on her thin, angular face. She was well past middle age, gray-haired, and she wore no jewelry or ornaments to mark her as a member of the higher social ranks of her clan.
"How did you know we were here?" Bregan demanded.
"I overheard the outrider who brought the supplies tel Lord Caurus where you were camped." She glanced warily at the men and turned back to Gabria. "I have something I must give you, Lady," the woman said nervously. "It is very important." She pul ed at something hidden behind her. "Come on!"
she cried and yanked harder. A small grubby girl stumbled out from the folds of the yellow cloak. The girl tried to clutch her companion's skirts, but the woman thrust her toward Gabria.
"This is Tam. She is ten summers old. My sister died giving birth to her," the clanswoman told Gabria desperately. "She is a magic-wielder like you. Please, take her with you. With you she will be safe.
I can't hide her talent much longer, and if Lord Caurus finds out, he will kill her." Gabria was astounded.
She looked speechlessly from the little girl to the clanswoman.
"We can't take a child with us,” Khan'di began to say, but Athlone cut him off with a gesture.
"How do you know she can wield magic?" the chief asked.
The woman gestured nervously. "She can! She does things. She. . . she's different."
Gabria laid her hand on Nara's neck. "Is the child a magic wielder?" she asked the mare.
Yes. The mare answered. Her foal whinnied in agreement.
The sorceress knelt down to look Tam in the face. The child was dirty and disheveled. Her ragged clothes were obviously hand downs from a larger child, but her features were pretty and her unkempt hair was thick and black. Her enormous eyes had an intense, wary gaze that seemed much too old for her years.
Gabria felt her heart melt. Khan'di was right, they did not need a child along. This journey would be long and dangerous, and the chances of survival were questionable. Still, as Gabria studied Tam's troubled face, she felt no doubt. This little girl was a kindred spirit, a magic-wielder, and as such she should be nurtured, protected, and taught, not left to the questionable mercy of someone like Caurus.
"Would you like to come with us, Tam?" Gabria asked.
"She can't talk,” the woman cut in.
"Can't or won't?" Piers inquired.
The clanswoman shrugged. "She hasn't spoken since her father died five years ago. My husband says she's a weakling."
Gabria gently pushed a strand of dark hair away from Tam's eyes. "Did your husband also say how she got this?" She turned the little girl's head toward the firelight and pointed to a large, purplish bruise on her temple.
The woman sidled back, her expression a mixture of fear and sadness, and said, "That's why you've got to take her. She won't last much longer with me."
"I don't know how safe she'll be with us," Gabria said.
"At least she'll have a chance," the woman pleaded. "Tam's your kind. You'll take care of her. I can't!" Before anyone could stop her, she tossed a smal bundle on the ground, turned, and fled into the darkness.
The warriors started after her, but Athlone stopped them.
"Let her go." They came back, sheathing their weapons.
Khan’di, his heavy face frowning, came forward. "Lord Athlone, I must protest. This is no journey for a child. We can't lose any more time by dragging her along." Piers knelt beside Tam and ran his long fingers over the bruise on her head. "She seems healthy, if undernourished. She should be able to stand the journey."
"Besides, we can't just leave her here," Sayyed said.
"Or take her back to Lord Caurus," Keth added.
Athlone quirked an eyebrow at the sudden rush to defend this little girl. He agreed with Khan'di's protest, but at the moment, they did not have much choice. "She'l have to go," he decided. "The Hunnuli can look after her, and we can spare enough food for one more small mouth."
Gabria smiled at Athlone gratefully and, for a moment, the pain in his heart receded under the warmth of her relief and pleasure.
Tam had not budged during the departure of her aunt or the exchange between the men. She stood as if rooted to the ground, too frightened to move. Gabria was surprised by her total silence. The little girl did not cry or speak or even
whisper. She just stayed in the place where her aunt had left her and Stared fixedly at the sorceress in front of her. Gabria slowly held out her wrist where the jewel splinter glowed red under her skin.
"Tam," she said softly. "I am Gabria. I am a magic-wielder, too."
Tam did not respond. Her small face was pale under the dirt, and her hands were clenched at her sides.
The sorceress cast a glance at the men. Only Piers, Athlone, and Sayyed could see what she was doing, so she picked up a stone the size of her fist. She smiled at Tam. "Watch." The months of practice in the stone temple came to Gabria's aid, and with Just a single word, she transformed the stone into a perfect sweetplum.
Tam's eyes grew huge. The men around her started in surprise.
"How did you do that?" Sayyed asked eagerly.
Gabria looked up at Athlone, the hint of a smile in her eyes. "Practice." She pressed the plum into Tam's hand and watched as the girl tasted it.
Tam tried a tentative bite, and her body seemed to relax a little. Plum juice ran down her chin as she devoured the fruit.
Lord Athlone said nothing at first. He was not sure what he should say about Gabria's display of sorcery. To be honest with himself, he had to admit her skill at changing the stone to a fruit intrigued him. It looked so simple, so useful. He watched Tam wipe her hands on her tattered skirt and, for the first time, the chief smiled at her. "Now that you have her attention," he said to Gabria, "why don't you give her a real meal. She looks famished."
Tam suddenly nodded eagerly, and she held out her hands imploringly.
Piers smiled. "There's certainly nothing wrong with her hearing."
Al at once, Tam's eyes widened. Whirling around, she put her fingers to her lips and blew a piercing whistle. To everyone's surprise, a dog barked far down the valley. Gabria's mouth opened, and Athlone and Sayyed started in disbelief.
"Did you hear that?" Gabria gasped incredulously.
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