Savaric paused and looked at his fellow chieftains. Sha Umar shrugged; Ryne nodded firmly. Savaric stared at the Dangari’s face for a full minute and weighed the fury and sincerity he saw in Koshyn’s blue eyes. Then he nodded abruptly. “Your help is most welcome, but we must move fast if the marauders are following. Where is the rest of your clan?”
“They are coming. We’re driving the herds to secret pastures in the mountains, and the women are gathering supplies. I came to find you and learn your counsel.”
“Listen, then. We are going to Ab-Chakan at the Defile of Tor Wrath. Join us there as quickly as possible,”
Koshyn stared. “That pile of rock? What for?”
“Piles of rock are easier to defend,” Savaric replied curtly.
The younger chief looked over the weary clans and back to Savaric. He still couldn’t believe the caravan had traveled this far so fast. When his scouts had told him the location of the clans, he wouldn’t believe them until he saw the trail for himself. His respect for Savaric had doubled.
“We will be there,” Koshyn said. He handed the lead line of the seven mares to Savaric, spurred his horse around, and cantered back to his men. With a ringing shout, they galloped back toward their treld.
Sha Umar grinned. “Now we will only be very outnumbered instead of desperately outnumbered,”
Savaric leaned on his saddle horn and said, “If only the other clans could be so easily persuaded,” He waved to the caravan, and the werod and wagons fell in behind him.
Nara waited a moment and watched the dust settle behind the vanishing company of horsemen. We will have to go soon. Before it is too late.
“Yes, tonight, I suppose. I hope we will find the clans still alive when we return,” said Gabria.
Since she had made the decision to search for the Woman of the Marsh, a strange reluctance to leave the Khulinin had hindered Gabria. She kept putting off their departure, waiting for a better moment. Gabria realized that the days were pressing close, but every time she considered leaving, a thought like a stinging fly buzzed in her mind: it had happened once; it could happen again. She could return to find nothing left but blood and smoke and rotting corpses. The image terrified her, more, she told herself, than the fear of her power or an uncertain meeting with an odd woman of legends. If she stayed with the Khulinin, she would not have to face the agony again and she could live or die with them.
Nara understood her reluctance. She pawed the ground and snorted. They will survive for a while behind the wall of that fortress. They do not need you yet.
Gabria shivered slightly. “Can you promise me they will be alive when we return?”
I can promise you nothing. Just have faith in them.
She rubbed the mare’s neck, feeling the rock-hard muscle beneath the velvet hair. “You are always honest, Nara. You give me heart.”
The mare looked at Gabria sideways from beneath her long forelock. That is why I am with you. Pack ample food; I do not know how long we will be gone.
The afternoon slowly passed into evening. The sky was barred with high clouds and the sun faded to copper as it fell. It was nearly dusk when the scouts found the remains of an ancient road in the tumbled shrubs and weeds of the Isin’s valley.
Built long before the horsemen rode the plains, the road had served the fortress of Ab-Chakan as a supply route to other cities and strongholds, places that had fallen to ruin after the demise of the empire. Now, only crumpled patches of paving stone showed through the grass and dirt.
As the clans traveled farther north, the road became more obvious. Its straight flight and level course were clearly seen on the flanks of the hills where it followed the river. Although the grasses and vines clambered over the stone, the road was still passable and the caravan thankfully used it. Even in the dim twilight, the clans could see the skillful handiwork of the men of old in the cut and lay of the stones.
Several hours after nightfall, the clans halted by the river. Savaric spread the word that they were five leagues from the fortress and would reach it the next day. Breathing prayers of thanks to their gods, everyone prepared for the night. Soon the camp sank into the silence of exhausted sleep. Only the sentinels and outriders “moved beyond the edges of the encampment. The night was quite black, since the moon would not rise until much later and no fires or lamps were lit. A mild wind hummed over the grass, and the stars reflected on the river’s surface like jewels on a black mirror.
Gabria waited until all was still, then she stealthily collected her gear. She took only a bag of food and her dagger. Piers would care for her things until she returned. After a moment’s thought, however, she fished out the arcane stone ward and wrapped it carefully in her cloak. She dressed in a dark blue tunic and pants, folded her cloak into the bag, and shoved her dagger into her belt.
Piers and Cantrell were sleeping beside the wagon. She carefully picked up her bag and a water skin, and slid over to the bard. She gently shook him. He woke immediately.
Gabria could not see Cantrell’s face, but she felt his body stiffen. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “It’s only Gabria.”
He lay still for a moment, listening, then he murmured in understanding, “You are leaving.”
“Yes. Please tell Athlone not to worry. I will be back.”
He chuckled softly. “The wer-tain will be very busy for the next few days, but I will tell him. Please be careful. My advice is not always commendable.”
“The Hunnuli will see to my safety. Farewell.” She slipped away.
Piers rolled over. “So she is leaving at last.”
“Yes. I only pray it does more good than harm.”
“Bard, she had no choice.”
Cantrell sighed. “I know. But the Woman of the Marsh can be dangerous, and she may not accept another pupil.”
“It is more dangerous to have an untrained magic-wielder in our midst.”
The bard relaxed into his blankets. “We will see soon enough,” he said sadly.
Piers lay back and looked up at the stars. “The gods give you speed, Gabria,” he murmured to himself.
Nara was waiting for Gabria on the edge of camp. As silently as wind-blown shadows, they glided past the guards and disappeared into the darkness. For a short distance, the Hunnuli Cantered south along the path the clan had followed, then she veered east and stretched out into a gallop. Like a cloud scudding across the night sky, she swept over the leagues of grass, her legs thrusting forward in an endless rhythm. She can effortlessly, and the air trembled as she passed. Astride the mare’s back, Gabria held fast to Nara’s mane and marveled at the speed the Hunnuli held. The girl leaned forward. The wind whipped the mare’s black mane into her face.
Nara felt her rider’s joy and in answer, she leaped forward ever faster. Her nostrils flared, her ears tucked back, and her muscles flowed beneath her black hide. The immeasurable plains opened before them. Far ahead, a thunderstorm etched the horizon with lightning. Flinging her head high, the mare raced to meet the storm.
They swung wide to the east to avoid running afoul of Medb’s army, eventually bending their way south toward the Sea of Tannis and the marshes of the Goldrine. The storm was left behind. After a while, Gabria was lulled by the rocking of Nara’s gait and she dozed on the mare’s neck, watching through half-closed lids as the land flowed away beneath them in a blur. Imperceptibly the blur began to lighten and tinge with color. Once, Gabria started awake and looked up to see the sun poised on the rim of the world.
The hills flattened somewhat, rising in a slow, easy swell, and their treeless slopes soon were covered with thick grasses that formed a springy cushion under Nara’s hooves.