Lightnings Daughter

by Mary H. Herbert

  With you as a guard, he's going to need better luck than his father."

  "Bregan!" Athlone's voice cut like a whip across the silence and stopped the warrior in mid-lunge.

  The wer-tain chuckled as Bregan forced himself to sit down again.

  "Now," Lord Athlone said to Caurus, "about those supplies."

  Caurus scowled. "We have little to spare. This has been a bad winter."

  Khan'di looked amazed. "A bad winter? We didn't know. I'd heard you had a prosperous summer last year, since you weren't involved in that unpleasantness with Lord Medb. Besides, the weather has been quite mild this season."

  Athlone raised his hand to forestall the Reidhar chief’s angry retort. "Caurus, look. We need those supplies badly. I cannot tell you exactly why or where we're going because your treld is too close to the caravan road. Word can spread fast, and we need the element of surprise. Just know our mission is very important. If we had not needed new horses so badly, I wouldn't have bothered you."

  Caurus's anger subsided a little, and he shifted his heavy frame in the chair. For the first time he looked directly at Gabria and asked, "And what of the sorceress? Is she a part of your important mission?"

  Gabria had been quiet during the meal, trying to stay out of the conversation and not exacerbate the raw emotions in the room. At Caurus's question, she looked up and met his stare with a cool expression of her own. "I am only a part of this troupe, Lord Caurus, and I can promise you that I have control ed my sorcery and kept my vow to the chiefs."

  "Huh!" Gringold said harshly. "What is a vow to a magic-wielder? They twist and turn their promises like nests of snakes until no one knows where the words begin or end. Remember Lord Medb and his silky promises? You are just like him, treacherous and evil."

  "She saved your clan, you miserable slug,” Secen, the Khulinin warrior, snapped.

  Gabria, amazed by the warrior's quick defense, smiled at him with gratitude.

  "Since none of you had the guts to fight,” Bregan added.

  This time it was Gringold who leaped to his feet. His golden wer-tain's belt glittered in the firelight as he reached for his eating knife.

  "Gringold!" Caurus shouted as the other warriors jumped up. "Sit down."

  The big wer-tain was too angry to obey. He snatched a heavy platter from the table and brought it down hard on Bregan's head. The older warrior slumped sideways on the table, dazed and bleeding from his reopened head wound. Without a pause, Gringold slashed at Secen with a knife and caught a third Khulinin warrior in the stomach with the platter. Then, before anyone could stop him, he lunged across the table and grabbed Gabria's wrist. "Viper!" he shouted at her. "You saved nothing but your worthless neck."

  Athlone, at the end of the table, snarled a curse and leaped toward the wer-tain. Before the chief could get there, Sayyed desperately grabbed for Gringold's knife arm, and Bregan tried to block the wer-tain's body on the table. To their dismay, Gringold was a powerful fighter. He swept them off and tried to wrench Gabria over the edge of the table.

  However, he had forgotten Gabria's past and her own training as a warrior. Instead of being the screaming, struggling female he had expected, the woman fought back. She snatched a heavy goblet from the table, smashed it into his face, and twisted her wrist out of his grasp.

  Swearing, Gringold covered his bleeding nose and looked up to see the sorceress poised in front of him, her dagger drawn and her green eyes blazing. At that moment, Athlone reached him, and a furious blow to the jaw sent the wer-tain reeling. Even that did not stop the man. He staggered upright and went after the chieftain.

  Lady Maril abruptly jabbed her husband in the ribs, jolting him out of his shocked inactivity.

  "Gringold, that's enough!" Caurus shouted belatedly. "You men hold him."

  The Reidhar warriors, who had not moved during their wer-tain's attack, now scrambled after Gringold and pinned his arms to his sides.

  "My apologies, Lord Athlone,” Caurus said with some sincerity.

  "No!" Gringold yel ed. "No apologies. I demand the right to defend my honor by battle."

  "A duel?" Caurus exploded. "Whom would you chal enge?"

  The wer-tain glanced at Bregan and the other Khulinin warriors, then he shook off his men and pointed at Lord Athlone.

  "I chal enge you, Chieftain. To the death,”

  Caurus looked aghast. "Don't be a fool, man,” he gasped, rising from his seat.

  Gringold disregarded him. "What do you say, Khulinin?"

  For a moment, Athlone did not answer. If he accepted and was badly wounded or kil ed, his loss could jeopardize their mission. On the other hand, if he did not accept, his refusal to duel with a man of lower status would seriously harm his influence in the clans and cloud his own honor. He looked about him---at Bregan leaning against the table while Piers tried to staunch the blood on his forehead; at the other warriors, one nursing a cut on his arm and one bent double over his bruised abdomen. Athlone glanced at Sayyed and Khan'di, and finally he looked at Gabria. The woman had sheathed her dagger and was standing quietly nearby.

  The sight of her ignited a powerful mix of feelings within Athlone. He knew he stil loved the sorceress in spite of their arguments, and he was furious with Gringold for assaulting her. If that was not enough to fire his temper, his anger, jealousy, and hurt pride from the past days still hammered at his patience and self-control. He felt ready to explode.

  Lord Athlone grinned wickedly to himself. He would never admit it aloud, but what he real y wanted was someone to vent his rage upon. Gringold had just volunteered. "Your chal enge is accepted,” he murmured. "You have been rude and insolent. You have insulted and attacked my men.

  Worst of all, you assaulted a woman of our clan. For the sake of our honor, I will meet you in the morning. May Surgart bless my sword." Lord Caurus groaned and sank back in his seat. Without another word, Athlone gathered his people and left the hall.

  *****

  By dawn the next day, word of the duel had spread through every corner of the treld. Because the sky was clear and the sun shone with the promise of a warm, comfortable day, the clanspeople began to gather early around the chief’s hal . Duels were exciting to watch, but rarely were two such excellent antagonists matched in a battle to the death. Wer-tain Gringold was big, heavily muscled, and well-trained with the short sword, while Lord Athlone, although lighter, was reputed to be the finest swordsman on the plains. The clan could not wait to see the outcome.

  While the Reidhar gathered by the hal , Lord Caurus paced in his quarters and cursed the rashness of his wer-tain. Individual dueling was a common clan practice used for settling arguments, ending blood feuds, or claiming weir-geld, and its rules were strict and rigidly adhered to. Combatants were required to fight with only a short sword and without a shield or mail for protection. A man needed every advantage of Strength and ability to survive, so chal enges were restricted to the initiated warriors of the werod.

  Normal y Lord Caurus would not have objected to a duel.

  The battles were usual y fought until one opponent surrendered, and he would have enjoyed seeing Athlone taken down a notch or two. A battle to the death, however, was an entirely different matter. Athlone's death could have serious repercussions throughout the clans. The other chiefs would be furious with Caurus and blame him for the killing. The powerful Khulinin would be without a chieftain and they would be enraged. And that sorceress . . . Caurus shuddered to think of the problems she could cause.

  As for the other possibility, he would hate to lose his wer-tain. Gringold was a hot-tempered fool at times, but he was an excellent leader to the clan's warriors. He was Caurus's cousin, too.

  All in all, the outcome of this duel looked grim to Caurus.

  Unfortunately, not even a chieftain could call off a challenge if the combatants were determined to fight. Caurus had tried to talk to Gringold that morning to no avail. The wer-tain was adamant; the duel would be fought.

  On the other side of
the treld, as Caurus paced back and forth in his hall, the travelers joined Athlone in the meager hut to help him prepare.

  Gabria watched the men for a short while, then slipped outside. Athlone had al the help he needed, and she wanted to be alone to compose her feelings. She was very worried. Athlone was an experienced, highly trained swordsman who could easily hold his own in duel. But Gringold was a brutal, powerful fighter, and battles between two well-matched antagonists were often unpredictable. Gabria swallowed hard to banish the nervous flutters in her stomach.

  For a few moments she paced anxiously by the door until, finally, to take her mind off her worries, she retrieved the horse brushes from the baggage and carefully brushed the dust off Nara and Eurus until their ebony coats glistened. She combed their manes and tails and brushed the colt's scruffy coat.

  When she was finished grooming the horses, she leaned against Nara and tried to be patient.

  Abruptly the wooden door of the hut swung open and Athlone strode out, fol owed by his four hearthguard. Piers, Sayyed, and Khan’di. Gabria stared at the Khulinin lord with pride. He wore only a pair of tight-fitting breeches, and he carried his sword in one hand. His muscles, while not as bulky as Gringold's, were well-formed and as dangerously sleek as a mountain lion's. His skin had been rubbed with oil to make it difficult for his opponent to hold him; his hair was tightly bound.

  Gabria recognized the concentrated look of resolution in his eyes. He had withdrawn from everything but the battle at hand. "My lord,” she said softly. "Your mount is ready."

  Athlone looked at her, then at the great Hunnuli stal ion that stood watching him with those deep, intelligent eyes. He hesitated for a breath while his reluctance to ride a sorcerer's steed gave way to his common sense. He and Gabria knew the horses only accepted magic-wielders, yet the rest of the clans only knew that a man who could ride the magnificent horses was a man to be honored and respected.

  His appearance on Eurus would make a valuable impression on the minds of the Reidhar and hopeful y unnerve his opponent.

  Athlone vaulted to Eurus's back, raised his sword, and shouted, "Khulinin!"

  The four hearthguard warriors repeated his cry, and their shouts reverberated through the valley.

  They immediately took their positions beside their chief, and the others fell in behind. Nara walked with Gabria, for the sorceress did not want to distract the Reidhar's attention from Lord Athlone. To her relief, Piers laid her hand on his arm and walked beside her while Sayyed stayed close behind.

  On Eurus's back, Athlone looked out over the Reidhar camp and saw the clanspeople swarming to the path to watch his approach. He grinned with pleasure and held his sword, blade down, as a gesture of peace to the Reidhar clan. The people cheered their approval. They did not care if he was an opponent to their wer-tain. All they saw was a proud clan warrior astride a great Hunnuli, his sword gleaming in the sun, his body ready for battle. In that moment, Athlone became a thril ing embodiment of the clans' hero, the legendary warrior, Valorian.

  They cheered as the group approached the hal , then fel silent and gathered in a ring around the wide, open space before the building. Lord Caurus and the wer-tain were waiting by the entrance.

  Gringold's body was oiled like Athlone's and laced with scars from many fights.

  Athlone paused for a moment to run his hand down Eurus's neck. He felt so alive, so natural, sitting on the back of this Hunnuli. He was as comfortable and at ease with this horse as he had ever been with Boreas. It was like coming home to an old friend.

  Eurus twisted his head around and looked at Athlone through his long forelock. His reach is longer than yours, but he only uses his sword in his right hand.

  The chieftain chuckled. "You know him wel ?"

  Merely observant. Keep your head down.

  With a laugh, Athlone slung his leg over Eurus's withers and slid to the ground. He saluted Caurus.

  The Reidhar chief returned the salute, as one lord to another. He tried to appear calm, but his face was grim, and his red beard fairly bristled with his agitation.

  "Lord, a moment,” Gringold said. "I must ask a favor."

  "What is it?" Caurus asked impatiently.

  The wer-tain turned and pointed to Gabria. "The sorceress. She must not interfere. Keep her at swordpoint.”

  Before anyone else could move, Sayyed drew his long curved blade and planted himself before Gabria. "Do not try it," he said flatly.

  Athlone caught Sayyed's glance, and the chief gave a slight nod of approval. Sayyed grinned.

  The Reidhar warriors edged forward, waiting for their lord's command until Caurus waved them back.

  "Lord Athlone, tell her she is not to interfere."

  "I do not need to, Caurus. She would not do so."

  "So be it. Begin the duel."

  The Hunnuli and the travelers withdrew to the edge of the ring of people as Athlone and Gringold approached each other. The two men faced off silently and raised their swords above their heads until the two points touched. Gringold's anger had hardly abated from the night before. His rugged face was twisted into a sneer of rage. Athlone was almost expressionless, and his eyes watched the wer-tain with the calculating calm of a hunter.

  Into the silence stepped the clan priest of Surgart. He raised his arm. "God of war, god of justice,"

  he shouted. "Behold this contest and judge these men. Choose your champion!" At his last word, the priest swung his arm down and the two men brought their swords dashing together.

  Eurus's observation was right; Gringold held his sword only in his right hand, but he used his left to punch, gouge, and grab, and his reach was several fingers longer than Athlone's. His strength was greater, too, and he bore down on the chieftain with the power and fury of a bear.

  Athlone met Gringold's sword attack blow for blow. He soon realized, though, that without a shield, he could not keep up his guard against the brute strength of the wer-tain. He ducked to avoid a punch to his head, slipped under Gringold's arm, and, switching his sword to his left hand, nicked the man in the ribs. The wer-tain roared in rage and doubled his attack.

  The sounds of dashing swords rang through the treld as the men fought in wordless fury. Time and again Gringold tried to beat down Athlone or crush him with his greater strength, but the chieftain was faster, more agile, and used his sword with either hand. Neither man could force a kil ing blow on the other, so they both struggled to wear the other down and catch a weakness or a fatal slip.

  Before long, the men were sweating heavily. Gringold was bleeding from several cuts and nicks from Athlone's sword. Athlone's jaw throbbed from a wel -landed punch, and his muscles were aching.

  He drew back a moment to wipe the sweat from his eyes.

  "Too much for you?" Gringold sneered. "Would you care to kneel here and let me end it? I'll kill you swiftly."

  Athlone jeered with contempt, "You couldn't hit a dead horse, you lumbering oaf."

  Gringold charged the Khulinin, his sword swinging in a vicious arc. Athlone dodged and slashed at the man's legs as he passed. The blade caught Gringold's right thigh and cut deep into the muscle. The man staggered.

  At that moment, Gabria heard Sayyed mutter a strange phrase, and she saw Gringold pitch forward to land heavily on the ground. To everyone else the wer-tain appeared to have fallen because of his wounded leg, but Gabria knew better.

  Her hand clamped around Sayyed's arm. "Stop that, now!" she hissed.

  The Turk shrugged like a boy caught in mischief. "Do you want Lord Athlone to lose?" he whispered.

  "Of course not. But he has to win this alone. He would not tolerate our help."

  “Al right, but if you change your mind . . ."

  They turned back to the duel in time to see Athlone press his attack on the fallen man. Gringold barely avoided the chief’s sword by rol ing under the blow and deliberately tripping Athlone with his legs. The chief fel on top of him, and Gringold took the opportunity to land several punches on Athlone's
face.

  The Khulinin chief, his head reeling, struggled out of the way and climbed to his feet. He faced the wer-tain with his sword in both hands. He could taste blood in his mouth, and his eye was beginning to swell. He drew some deep breaths as the wer-tain staggered to his feet. They glared at each other through their blood and sweat.

  Swinging his sword in short, wicked slashes, Athlone feinted toward Gringold's wounded leg just enough to force the man's sword down, then he cut upward for the throat. The Reidhar's reflexes were not fast enough to parry the jab, so he slammed his fist into the chief’s stomach. The blow deflected Athlone's arm just enough to throw off the blade. The sharp edge cut the skin of Gringold's neck and slid by.

  The heavy punch threw Athlone off balance, and he stumbled, gasping for air. Instantly the wer-tain jumped after him and jabbed his sword toward the chief’s upper body. Athlone saw the blade coming.

  He tried to twist out of the way, but the point caught him in the hol ow of his right shoulder. He snarled in pain, wrenched away from the blade, and fell heavily on his side. His sword was jarred out of his hand.

  It landed in the dirt a few feet away from his outstretched fingers.

  Gringold shouted in delight. The wer-tain, his neck and leg running with blood, slashed his blade down at Athlone's head. The Khulinin twisted away from the blow and reached for his weapon.

  "Oh, no, you don't,” Gringold cursed. Unable to reach Athlone's fallen sword himself, he tossed aside his weapon and jumped on the chieftain. He wrapped his hands around Athlone's throat and grinned at the delight of killing a man with his bare hands.

  "Gabria, please!" Sayyed whispered fiercely.

  The sorceress clenched his arm. "No."

  Athlone's world suddenly closed in around him in a red vise of pain. He struggled desperately to dislodge the heavy wer-tain sitting on his chest and to pul off the hands that were slowly strangling him.

  He might as well have tried to move a mountain. Inexorably the agony increased. The blood roared in his ears, and the used air burned in his lungs. His strength drained away.