Gabria watched him dive into the pool and buried her face in the moss. “Oh, goddess,” she pleaded. “Help me now.”
While he swam toward her, the Corin bolted away toward the opposite bank in the vain hope that she could hide before the wer-tain saw her body. But the crystal water betrayed her. There was nothing to hide her curved hips or the swell of her breasts.
Athlone abruptly stopped dead in the water. He stared at her, and his eyes froze in astonishment and stunned realization.
Gabria stopped swimming, stood up in the shallow water, and faced him, her chin tilted up and the water running down her breasts. “Now what, Wer-tain?” she challenged.
Without warning, he lunged at her and his hands clamped her arms before she could move. Her eyes were pinned by his gaze of erupting fury. “By the gods,” he snarled. He dropped her in the water, grabbed her hair with one hand and felt her breasts as if he could not believe his eyes. Gabria’s skin crawled at his touch, and she closed her eyes. He shook her, nearly snapping her neck.
“A woman,” he spat. “Are you Medb’s little spy?” He pushed her underwater and held her, struggling, until her lungs burned, then he hauled her out like a gasping fish. “Who are you?” Athlone thrust her under again without waiting for an answer.
Gabria’s fingers tore at his wrists, but she could not loosen his grip on her hair. She would have given almost anything for her sword at that moment. Inexplicably, she began to feel more anger than fear, and resentment surged through her.
Once more Athlone dragged her head out of the water. “Defiling pig!” he cried. “Who sent you to spread your lies in my father’s treld?”
Gabria shrieked in fury and lashed out at his stomach. He dodged and shoved her under for the third time. She fought his merciless hold with frantic strength until her lungs were bursting and the blood pounded behind her eyes. Despite her training, she was no match for the wer-tain in unarmed combat. He was stronger, heavier, and more skilled. But maybe she could surprise him.
Unexpectedly, the girl went limp and let a few bubbles trail out of her mouth. Her head hurt horribly, but she concentrated on relaxing every muscle and floating as if dead.
Athlone loosened his grip on her hair. As she felt his hands relax, Gabria drew her legs up, shoved violently against the bottom of the pool, and rammed her head into Athlone’s stomach. He doubled over, cursing and gasping. Gabria fled for the bank. She scrambled over the damp rocks and moss as he came after her. The girl glanced back and saw the wer-tain plunging through the water like a furious stallion, his face twisted in rage and his eyes murderously dark. Frantically, Gabria ran for her clothes. Her fingers found her dagger, and she whirled to face Athlone as he lunged out of the pool.
“Keep away, Wer-tain,” she cried, backing toward a tree.
Athlone paused for a moment, his eyes on her face. “Show your tooth, viper. Even Medb’s snakes can be stepped on.” He edged nearer.
Gabria’s eyes flared with green fire, but she stayed with her back to the tree.
“Medb’s whore,” he taunted. “Is that how you survived the Corin’s massacre? Did you spread your legs for him—and his exiles, too?”
A searing rage tore away Gabria’s sensibilities and, like a catalyst, sparked the blue fire of her arcane power. “Curse you!” she stormed, unaware of the magic building within her. “You know nothing. You are as bad as Medb, rooting through corpses for a shred of self-esteem. You snap and snarl like a toothless dog.”
Athlone laughed. “Far better to be an equal of Medb’s than his whining cast-off. Will you grovel in the dirt to save your life again?”
Gabria leaped at the warrior like a cornered lioness. Her attack was so fast it took him by surprise and, when she stabbed at him, her dagger found the hollow of his left shoulder. The blade went deep, embedding in the muscle and ligaments. Even as the dagger sank in. the blue aura rose from Gabria’s hand and raced down the jeweled hilt and silver blade into Athlone’s body.
Her force was stronger this time and would have killed the wer-tain, except that the magic met a strange resistance. Instead of destroying Athlone, the attack only weakened him.
He gasped and went pale. He flung her violently away and stood rigid, staring stunned at the blood that trailed down his chest. The warrior hissed. “Sorceress! What have you done to me?” Then his strength failed and he collapsed unconscious.
Gabria stood for a long time, her body shuddering in the release of her rage. She closed her eyes and forcibly controlled her wild panting. The beast. He deserves to die, she thought triumphantly. How dare he call her Medb’s whore. She leaned over and wrenched her dagger loose. The blood surged out of the wound and flowed down the wer-tain’s side.
Gabria held the point of the weapon against the hollow of his throat, where life lay just below the skin. It would be so easy. One simple thrust. Then the wer-tain would be dead and his suspicions with him. It would be the first time she killed a man, but it would be wonderful to start with this one. She could still feel his hands pawing her body and hear his unspeakable insults. The knife dug into the skin as her anger rekindled. A bead of blood glistened on the dagger point.
Kill him, her mind said. He’s dangerous. He will betray you if he lives. The blade eased deeper. More scarlet beads welled up.
Red, Gabria mused as she watched the blood stain the tan of Athlone’s neck. As red as the blood on the grass at Corin Treld.
In disgust, Gabria threw down the dagger and squatted on the grass beside him. She hated herself for her weakness, but she could not kill Athlone in cold blood. She had seen enough blood to last a lifetime, and, as her rage cooled, she realized that she did not really want the wer-tain’s murder on her hands. Besides, he did not deserve to die like this. His wound was payment enough for his insults.
However. that still left the monumental problem of what Athlone would do to her if he recovered. Gabria had little doubt he would expose her disguise and have her killed immediately. But maybe, just maybe. he would wait long enough to talk to her. Perhaps she could convince the wer-tain to help her. Nara did tell her Athlone could be trusted. Gabria hoped the mare was right—it was Gabria’s only chance.
The girl sighed irritably. If Athlone was going to live, she would have to bind his wound and take him to Piers quickly. But what would she tell Savaric? Unhappily. she dressed and cleaned the wer-tain’s wound and bound it with strips from his own tunic.
Just as she finished clothing him. Nara and Boreas trotted through the trees to the pool. Gabria backed away, eyeing the huge stallion warily. She wondered if he would be angry at her for his master’s injury.
Boreas sniffed Athlone and snorted softly. I see you two have settled your differences. His thoughts, lower and more masculine than Nara’s, rang richly in her head. Gabria stared at him.
Nara nickered, obviously pleased. We waited for this, Gabria. You need him.
“I need him like a broken leg,” she said vehemently. “Where were you two?”
Boreas nuzzled Nara’s neck, and she nipped playfully at him. We were occupied.
“Why did you leave me alone?” Gabria demanded. “You knew Athlone would find me.”
Of course, Nara told her.
Athlone is bleeding. We must take him to the healer. Boreas nudged Gabria.
The girl glared at them both, feeling furious, hurt, and annoyed. Nara had left her intentionally, knowing Athlone would come to the pool. Why? The mare knew that the wer-tain was dangerous. Although the Hunnuli accepted him, how could Nara risk leaving her rider to face Athlone alone and virtually defenseless? In his rage, Athlone had nearly killed Gabria, and it was only through luck she had escaped. Yet both Nara and Boreas had anticipated the outcome of the confrontation.