Lightnings Daughter

by Mary H. Herbert

  He was so sick and weakened by the unfamiliar fever that he barely avoided her blow. Time and again Gabria carefully attacked him with the Trymian Force and other missiles--- daggers, fire, rocks---

  anything she could think of to make him move and react and use up his strength.

  Final y the gorthling understood the sickness she had given him and cured his symptoms one by one. He staggered to his feet, his human face full of wrath.

  Gabria hesitated. She did not think another sickness spell would be effective, because the gorthling was beginning to understand how the il ness affected him. He would be better able to defend himself against a second attempt. But now she was at a loss over what to do next.

  During that brief pause Gabria and Branth faced each other. The creature curled his lip and said,

  "You are better than I believed, Sorceress. You have withstood the usual battle spells I use." He raised his hands. "Now try this one."

  Gabria stiffened to face the blow, but when it came, it took her completely by surprise. Her mind went abruptly blank. Then the world seemed to explode into a fiery maelstrom of whirling winds and searing heat. She felt herself being pulled helplessly into a giant vortex of tornadic winds and swirling fire.

  She rol ed and tumbled in the funnel of air and fire, screaming in pain, helplessness, and beneath it all, fury. The heat charred her skin, the winds flayed her face and limbs.

  Somewhere in the winds she heard wailing voices of other humans in torment, but she could see nothing in the yel ow and orange fires. Gabria felt herself drawn deeper into the storm toward a place where the funnel fel into a mindless chasm of madness and everlasting emptiness. She fought back against the winds, clawing and writhing with a desperation strengthened by her powerful wil to survive.

  Suddenly, out of the roaring chaos she heard a beloved voice reach out like a lifeline to her mind.

  Gabria, hear me! It is only a vision. Come back!

  The words rang like a sweet bell in her thoughts and awoke memories of another time and of another sorcerer, Lord Medb, who had also tried to defeat her with visions. She closed her eyes to the winds and fire, and out of the depth of her soul, she laughed.

  The roaring winds abruptly ceased. The heat and the pain vanished. When she opened her eyes, she saw the glorious blue sky, the green cottonwood trees, and the muddy brown rivers. Her skin was whole, her arms and legs healthy, and the magnificent Hunnuli still carried her across the council grove.

  Gabria felt weary to the bone, but she was alive and still able to fight.

  She jerked her head up and saw the gorthling standing near the council tent. A flicker of surprise crossed his face. His arcane shield was down, and he was sweating. He looked as tired as she felt.

  Gabria knew she did not have the strength at the moment to cal upon the Trymian Force, yet there were other spel s she knew wel that did not need as much effort. She snapped a command, and the bits of rock and gravel around the gorthling's feet were transformed into a swarm of wasps.

  The insects buzzed around the gorthling, stinging his human body and infuriating him. He felt his strength waning. He had seriously misjudged this sorceress. She had taxed his power with her unexpected human diseases and her determined counterattack, then he had foolishly drained his own strength to destroy her mind only to have her rescued by the Hunnuli at the last moment. She surprised him with her intelligence and self-will. The gorthling knew he was too weary to continue the fight at the present time. He needed a short time to rest until he could think of a way to destroy this woman and take his revenge on the clans. He vowed he would never leave until he had fulfilled his lust for their blood.

  With a furious word, he dispel ed the wasps into dust and looked around for some means of retreat. His eyes found the ring of stones on the holy island. For the first time, he noticed the clanspeople clustered on the far banks, and an idea took shape in his mind. Humans had a weakness for the safety of other humans. This woman was likely no different.

  A furtive movement out of the corner of his eye caught Branth's attention. Before Gabria knew what he was doing, he ran a few steps toward the council tent and pounced on two men trying to peer around one wal . Both men carried swords, but the gorthling stunned them into immobility with a spel and disarmed them.

  Gabria choked back a cry when the gorthling shoved his prisoners in front of him. They were Lord Wortan of the Geldring and Wer-tain Guthlac.

  "Do not come near me, Sorceress," the gorthling shouted. "Or these men will die horribly!" He slowly edged around the tent and began to back toward the river, keeping Wortan and Guthlac between himself and Gabria. Nara paced his movements step by step.

  At the water's edge he grabbed the two men and hauled them in with him. Both were dazed and could barely stumble through the shal ows. He forced the men on through the Goldrine toward the holy island. The Hunnuli and her rider stood on one shore fol owing his every move; the clanspeople stood along the other banks watching what was happening.

  The gorthling raised a hand. A lurid red glow ignited over his body, and before everyone's horrified gaze, he began to grow. His body grew tal er and larger until he towered higher than the trees and his shadow fell on the people on the west bank. His face warped into a huge mask similar to the gorthling's original wizened features. The beast roared his fury and reached toward the nearest crowd of people.

  Those by the water's edge screamed in panic and tried to flee, but the press of people blocked their way.

  Gabria screamed a warning. She tried to block Branth's hand with a spell, but she was too late. The gorthling grabbed seven people with his enormous hands and dragged them, struggling and shrieking, into the river to join his other hostages. As a diversion, he sent several blasts of the Trymian Force into the fleeing crowd.

  Gabria was able to destroy all but one of the blasts. The last searing bolt struck a group of clanspeople, killing six and injuring many more.

  "Stay back, Sorceress!" the gorthling bellowed. "Or I'll kill all of them." Wordlessly, Gabria watched the gorthling shove his hostages together. Even as she racked her brain for a useful idea, the gorthling took his nine prisoners into the circle of stones and sealed the ring with a protective arcane shield, then he shrank back to normal size to conserve his strength.

  Gabria gritted her teeth. She had failed. On the far riverbank, screams, wails, and cries of grief and pain blended into a lament that cut Gabria like an accusation. This disaster was her fault. She had not been strong enough to defeat or even contain the gorthling, and now the problem of fighting the creature was worse than ever.

  She lifted her gaze to the island, her eyes glittering like cold gems. The gorthling had out-maneuvered her this time. She swore she would not let that happen again. Somehow she would find a way to defeat the beast and send it back where it belonged.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Gabria!" someone shouted. "What's going on?"

  Lord Sha Umar ran to Nara's side and stared at the holy island where the gorthling had retreated.

  "What is Branth trying to do?" he asked.

  "That isn't Branth anymore,” Gabria replied wearily. "Lord Branth summoned a gorthling in Pra Desh, and the creature invaded his body."

  Sha Umar was horrified. "What's he doing here?"

  "Trying to kill magic-wielders."

  The chieftain looked over at the woman for the first time and noticed how wan and tired she appeared. "Where is Athlone?" he asked.

  "North of here. Half a day's ride." She glanced at the sky and saw with surprise that the sun had barely risen to its midmorning height. Her battle with the gorthling had seemed interminable to her, but it had taken little time.

  The island was quiet for the moment. Gabria could make out the group of prisoners huddled together in the center of the stone circle. Branth was sitting on a flat rock nearby, watching his hostages and resting. Of course, Gabria knew he was not resting completely. He was stil using power to maintain the faint red force field t
hat glimmered around the circle of Stones.

  On the opposite banks of the two rivers the camps were in chaos, More people gathered on the banks, their horrified curiosity getting the better of their fear. Relatives and friends grouped around the dead and wailed their grief. Others carried the wounded to the clan healers. No one was entirely certain what was going on. There was a cacophony of frantic shouting, crying, yelling, and excited talking as everyone tried to learn what had happened.

  Four other chieftains came running toward the council grove and forded the river. They met Sha Umar and Gabria with a barrage of questions.

  The Jehanan chieftain deftly maneuvered them away for a moment to let Gabria collect her thoughts. The woman slipped off Nara and rested thankfully against the mare's strong shoulder. Her moment of quiet was over in a heartbeat.

  Lord Caurus pushed past Sha Umar and shook his fist under her nose. "I knew it! I knew you'd be trouble. It was only a matter of time. Two of my people are dead, and it's your fault."

  Gabria let his anger wash around her like a wave. She understood his rage and fear, and in part, he was right. She had let the gorthling snatch the hostages and slip away.

  Lord Bael, the new chieftain of the Ferganan, butted in past Caurus. "What is Branth doing here?"

  "And where is Lord Athlone?" Young Lord Ryne cal ed over the noise.

  "How did you get here? I thought you went to Pra Desh?" Caurus added.

  The Shadedron chief, Lord Malech, demanded, "What are you going to do about this disaster?"

  Gabria answered their questions as best she could and hurriedly explained her long journey to and from Pra Desh. The men's anger and confusion cooled somewhat as they listened. Gabria was pleasantly relieved that the chiefs heard her out with a measure of respect and concern.

  The only question she avoided was Lord Malech's. She did not know what to do about the gorthling or his hostages. Even after their battle, she was no closer to sending it out of the world than when she had started. All she had succeeded in doing was tiring herself and forcing the gorthling into a strong defensive position.

  She was stil trying to explain the battle to the men when Lord Jol pushed through the group and took Gabria's arm. "Lady Corin, would you come and look at Koshyn?"

  Koshyn! She had forgotten about him. She broke off and hurried after the old Murjik chieftain. The others followed silently in their wake.

  Sha Umar and Jol had laid the Dangari in the big council, tent after the gorthling had left the grove.

  The chief was resting, unconscious, on his blue cloak. Three of Koshyn's hearthguard were dead, but two others stood by their lord, their faces showing their concern.

  Gabria knelt down beside the wounded chieftain. Koshyn had suffered no obvious external injury from Branth's torturous spell, yet everyone could see there was something dreadfully wrong within him.

  He twitched and writhed and moaned in pain; his muscles jerked spasmodical y, and his hands were clenched in knotted fists. When Gabria touched him, his skin was hot with fever.

  "There is nothing I can do," Gabria said sadly. "Only our healer, Piers, can help. He has a stone of healing that will remove the harmful magic from Lord Koshyn's body."

  The Dangari exchanged glances. "Where is your healer, Lady?" one of them asked.

  "He wil be coming soon, I hope." She glanced out the open tent flap. "Lord Koshyn is not the only one who will need the stone of healing. There are other people who were sorely injured, too."

  At that instant, Nara spoke gladly in her mind. Gabria, the men are coming!

  To the chiefs' mutual amazement, the sorceress jumped to her feet and dashed outside. She ran out to the edge of the trees and saw them coming. Athlone and Sayyed were doubled on Eurus, and the Hunnuli was galloping across the valley toward the gathering.

  At that moment Gabria did not know which of her emotions was stronger, her dismay that they had come when the gorthling was still a danger or her joy at their arrival. She knew she had disappointed them by leaving, but they had come to her aid anyway.

  Gabria yelled and waved. They saw her and veered toward her. Athlone nearly fell off the big Hunnuli in his haste to reach the woman. His anger and worry were abruptly doused in the flood of relief that swept through him when he saw her alive and wel . He caught her in his arms, crushing her close.

  She said nothing, just wrapped her arms around him and held tightly.

  Athlone did not say anything, either. He let her go, and she turned to greet Sayyed. The Turic, too, hugged her fiercely.

  "I'm glad you're safe," he said, somewhere between laughter and tears.

  "Where are Piers and the others?" she asked.

  "On their way. The other horses could not keep up with Eurus." Sayyed flashed his charming smile.

  "I was nearly left behind, too."

  The other chiefs caught up with the three just then, and they greeted Athlone with undisguised relief. They immediately bombarded him with questions and several versions of the events of the morning. He talked with them just long enough to hear them out and answer a few of their questions, then he excused himself and went to join Gabria and Sayyed.

  As Gabria looked into Athlone's eyes, she could not trust herself to speak. She had tried to decide the men's fate by leaving them, convinced that the fight with the gorthling was hers alone. She knew now that she had been wrong. The creature was too strong for her to face by herself. She had to admit that she needed the help and the support of these two men.

  However, the decision to use their untrained sorcery in a battle against a much stronger foe was theirs to make. She was still desperately afraid for them, but she had to let them choose their own path.

  "I wil say only one thing before we talk about the gorthling," Athlone said. He cupped his hands around Gabria's face, and his brown eyes bored into hers. "Don't ever leave me like that again."

  The intensity of his quiet words meant more to her than anything he could have said in anger or any statement of his concern for her safety. Warmed to the center of her being, Gabria raised her hand palm up and said, "I promise."

  His fingers interlaced with hers, and the vow was made. They stood in the shade of the tree near the council tent, and Gabria told the two men what had happened from the moment she arrived. They could hear the noise stil going on in the camps; the voices of some of the chiefs rose above the cacophony as they tried to assess the damage and calm their people. The council grove bustled with activity, but Gabria, Athlone, and Sayyed were left strictly alone.

  Suddenly they heard a voice close by. "I demand to see Lord Athlone. My right as a Khulinin cannot be denied."

  The chieftain groaned when he saw Thalar, the clan priest. Lord Sha Umar was trying to distract the priest, but Thalar grew louder and more insistent by the moment.

  "I will not leave," Thalar shouted, "until I speak with my chieftain!" Athlone nodded to Sha Umar, and the Jehanan stood aside. The priest came striding over. "What is it, Thalar?" the chieftain asked, the irritation clear in his voice.

  The priest ignored his tone and planted himself before his chief. "Lord Athlone! You have finally come. I'll have you know that the gods-cursed heretic, Branth, has invaded the holy island, destroyed the sanctity of the gods' temple, and slaughtered people of our clans. I demand that you remove him from the sacred ring before the gods curse us for allowing this sacrilege to occur."

  Lord Athlone tried to hold his temper. Although the priests and priestesses of a clan did not have as much authority as the chieftain, even the chiefs did not deliberately insult or antagonize a representative of the gods. Thalar, however, made self-control difficult.

  "We're trying to---" Athlone began, but Thalar turned away before he could complete the sentence.

  The priest faced Gabria, and his color turned as red as a beet. "As for her," he shouted, pointing a trembling finger at the woman, "that evil-tainted sorceress has destroyed this gathering! The moment she appeared, all the fury of Sorh broke loose."
<
br />   Gabria tried to stifle a smile. Thalar did not know the truth of the gorthling's identity, so he had little idea how close he was to the truth.

  Unfortunately the priest noticed her half-hidden expression and misread it for ridicule. "See how she laughs? Does she care that six people lie dead, that many more are injured, that nine are hostage, including a chief and your own wer-tain? Does she care for the sacrilege that is being done to our holy temple? Lord Athlone, that woman is a menace, and I demand that you banish her from this camp before she destroys us all."

  "No,” Athlone replied simply.

  Thalar rose to his ful height and bel owed, "Then kil her! Root out her evil!" His voice thundered across the grove. Anyone nearby who was not already listening to the harangue turned to watch. "Put an end to this vile stain of magic or by Surgart, I swear I will bring down the wrath of the gods upon this clan. I will---"

  He went no further. Lord Athlone had had enough. The chief raised his hand, spoke a single word, and the priest's voice caught in his throat. Thalar's face turned from red to a sickly white, and his eyes bulged as he attempted to speak. Sha Umar and Sayyed grinned; the other chiefs looked stunned.

  "No,” said Athlone calmly. "As you can see, the stain of magic is spreading." Thalar gasped and gagged with a mighty effort to say something, but the words would not come.

  "You will listen now,” Athlone ordered, a bite of steel in his tone. "I am a magic-wielder, too. I intend to help Lady Gabria as best I can to remove that gorthling."

  Thalar abruptly stilled, and his body stiffened.

  The chieftain saw his reaction and pushed the point home. "That's right. That creature is not Branth, but a beast of Sorh, and Lady Gabria was trying to save the clans from its evil. Do you understand?" Thalar nodded, his eyes narrowed.

  "Good. If you wish to remain with the Khulinin, I suggest you think about your position on sorcery.