Nara shifted and raised her head. Her ears swiveled forward. Boreas and his rider are coming, she informed Gabria.
The girl sat up quickly. She stiffened her shoulders and watched the black figure of Boreas materialize out of the darkness. Noiselessly, the huge stallion stepped up beside them and nickered softly in greeting.
The wer-tain sat silently, watching the dozing horses nearby. Gabria saw the dim sparkle of polished mail under the robe that covered him to his knees, but the glimmer of his helm was hidden beneath the hood of his cloak. She could not see the wer-tain’s face in the shadows of his hood, and she hoped he could not see hers.
“Nothing stirs tonight,” Athlone said quietly.
“No.” Gabria had not spoken to him since Cor’s death and she was not certain she wanted to now. She was horribly afraid that Athlone would probe into her actions and discover her power. The old threat she had once thought forgotten reared its ugly head between them.
“My father tells me we are going north.”
“North,” Gabria said testily. “Are we going to skulk in the mountains like thieves?”
He sighed, trying to be patient. “This caravan is too big to ‘skulk.’ We’re going to an old stronghold called Ab-Chakan.”
“I suppose that will be better than running over the plains like frightened rabbits.”
Athlone turned his head and she could feel his cold glance. “If you had a better suggestion, you should have informed Savaric.”
“I do not interfere with the councils of the wise,” Gabria said huffily. She wished he would go away.
“Fine words for a woman who claims herself chieftain, disrupts an entire gathering, and threatens a sorcerer.”
“And what was it worth? You let me delude myself with hopes of vengeance, then sat back and watched me make a fool of myself in front of the lords of the clans.”
Athlone shook his head. “This is an old argument. I did not know he was injured so badly until I saw him the first day.”
She was silent for a long while. The Hunnuli stood motionless, their ears cocked back to listen, their ebony eyes catching the light of the old moon as it thrust its horn above the hills. Athlone waited. His face was still shrouded in night, and his fingers picked restlessly at the folds of his robe.
Finally, Gabria slammed her fist on her knees. “What do I do now, Athlone? I’ve waited months to challenge Lord Medb. Now I have no satisfaction to quiet the voices of my brothers or wash away the memories of that day. Medb has slipped out of my grasp.”
“There are other ways to gain vengeance. Some more subtle than others,” he said.
Gabria whipped her head around and her heart began to pound. She could not see his face to read his expression.
“There are other ways,” he added, his voice level. “Some more fitting than others, to seek your revenge against a man like Medb. Sorcerer or no, he is still a man with his own weaknesses. Seek those out. Learn his greatest fears and use them against him.”
“How?” she asked sarcastically. “Do I stop him in the middle of a battle and ask a few questions, or do I visit his tent at nightfall?”
“Use your wits, Corin. None of us know how the coming days will unfold. Perhaps, if you’re clever, you will have weapons at hand that will be sharper than any sword.”
Gabria stared at the wer-tain. Just how much did he know about her? Had he talked to Piers or was he making his own deductions? Or was he simply offering his best advice? “All right, I’ll watch. But I doubt it will do much good.”
Athlone rubbed his hand down Boreas’s neck. “We never know. Wars are terribly unpredictable.” He stopped, then said, “I did not tell you, but I was very glad to see you alive the other night. If Cor had succeeded, I would have personally flayed him alive.”
“I’m glad you didn’t have the opportunity,” Gabria replied, surprised and pleased by his remark.
“How long will you continue this charade?” he asked suddenly. “You cannot pretend to be a boy forever.”
Gabria shrugged. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I guess until Savaric finds out or Medb kills me.”
Athlone’s hand unconsciously gripped his sword hilt. “Medb will not kill you if I have anything to do with it,” he muttered under his breath.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. Tomorrow, you will join the outriders to search for Ab-Chakan.”
She saluted. “Yes, Wer-tain.” He turned to go, but she held out her hand and stopped him. “Athlone, do you know of the Woman of the Marsh?”
Athlone stiffened. Boreas snorted as his rider leaned forward. “Where did you hear of that?”
“From Cantrell.”
“Well, forget it immediately. That woman is evil and dangerous. You have no business with her. I forbid you to mention her again.” He kneed Boreas, and they vanished in the dark.”
“That was strange,” Gabria said, astonished by his vehement reaction.
Nara nickered softly. The man does not understand yet. He thinks as you once did about magic.
“Once did?”
Your beliefs have traveled far since you felled Cor the first time with magic.
“The first time,” Gabria repeated weakly.
Surely you did not think I did not know. Hunnuli are most comfortable with magic-wielders. We can sense many things about our riders that men overlook.
“Then you know I killed him.”
Of course. And now you know the truth.
“That I am a sorceress.” Gabria sounded disgusted.
You are not a sorceress yet. Your powers are untrained, but you have much natural talent. That should not be wasted. Especially now.
“Well, what can I do about it?” she demanded, trying to keep her voice down. “Lord Medb would never teach me, and who else knows the forbidden arts?”
Follow the bard’s counsel, Nara answered.
“The Woman of the Marsh? I don’t even know if she exists!” Gabria said.
The woman is there. In the great marshes. She will help you if she feels your desires are strong enough.
Gabria was stunned. She knew that Nara was telling the truth, and the possibilities of what the Hunnuli was saying were incredible. She sat lost in thought for some time before she broke her silence. When at last she spoke, her voice was filled with sadness.
“Oh, Nara, these are strange days. Legends spring to life, clan fights clan, and our fates hang on the thread of a sorcerer’s spell. Now I have a power I was taught to despise and I don’t know what to do with it. All I can think about is Medb and magic and the look of death on my father’s face.” Her words failed, and she leaned despondently on Nara’s neck.
The Hunnuli nickered in sympathy. I cannot always understand men’s feelings, but I, too, have felt loss and loneliness. When that happens, you must look for new strengths and the new pastures.
Gabria listened to the gentle words in her mind. She slipped her arms around Nara’s neck. “Will the marshes do?”
That will do very well. I have felt the need for a long run.
Two hours after dawn, Athlone sent his outriders forth as scouts. Riding northeast, they spread out to find the fastest road to the Himachal Mountains and the fortress of Ab-Chakan. Gabria and Nara rode with them. They galloped for leagues over the grassy, level end of the valley of the Hornguard. Gradually the terrain rolled upward and the hills surged toward the feet of the mountains. Ahead, the dark, smoky smudge marking the mountains sharpened into individual peaks.
The Himachal Mountains were not mountains in the rugged, glorious form of the Darkhorns. They were mere vanguards to the mighty range, and their crowns rose only to a modest height above the plains. Yet, despite their shorter, rounder tops, their slopes were steep and difficult and thick with heavy underbrush and timber.