Gabria started walking. It was very difficult going; since she could only see a few paces in front of her; she could not choose the best path through the heavy brush and boggy ground. Several times, Gabria tripped over unseen roots or fell into a sink where the mud stank and the water was slimy. She struggled on for hours until her muscles were limp and her nostrils were deadened to the rank smells.
Finally Gabria stopped. It was still quite dark and she bleakly looked around and admitted to herself that she was totally lost. She had no idea which way to go and precious time was being wasted. She needed Nara.
The Hunnuli had told her once to whistle if help was needed. Gabria knew that it was impossible for the mare to hear her, and yet, she thought that, maybe if she used her new powers, she could reach the mare with her need. A slim chance at best. Gabria decided to try it. There was nothing to lose by whistling in the dark. She closed her mind to everything but Nara, inhaled deeply, and whistled, bending her will to the mare with all the urgency she could muster.
The night was silent for a long moment, then, astonishingly, Gabria heard a horse neigh, as if from many miles away. She whistled a second time and hoped desperately she had not heard amiss. The call came again, joyfully and much closer this time.
“Nara!” she shouted. The Hunnuli was coming. Gabria turned to face the direction from which she heard the sound of hoof beats, and the giant black horse burst out of the darkness. The mare skidded to a halt in front of the girl and reared, her head thrown back and her mane flying.
Gabria gasped, “Nara.”
The mare settled down and her breath steamed in a snort. Truly you have learned your art well.
The girl’s mind whirled in happiness, confusion, and wonder. “How did you come so fast?” she blurted.
The sorceress sent a message to tell me to come south, but your call led me here.
“How long have I been gone?”
The sun has set four times since we parted.
Gabria mentally counted the days. That did not seem right. If Nara was correct, she had only spent two days with the marsh woman. It seemed like years. She leaned gratefully against Nara’s warm shoulders and ran her hand down the livid white streak.
“Let’s go home,” Gabria said.
With the girl on her back, Nara trotted westward through the failing edges of the marsh, toward the hills where the ground was firmer for a horse’s hooves. Once on the dry slopes, she ran with the speed of the wind. Behind them, an orange glow fired the east as the clouds broke before the rising sun.
Gabria and Nara came to Ab-Chakan before sunset, riding in from the south along the flanks of the foothills, in the shelter of the trees. Nara eased silently through the undergrowth to the edge of the broad valley. In the thickening darkness they saw the fires and torches of Medb’s army. Gabria’s heart sank.
She had seen the Wylfling werod in full array, but even the tales of added forces had not prepared her for the vast fields of tents, wagons, horses, and piles of supplies she saw. She would never make it through that camp to the fortress. Medb’s forces were spread out in a semicircle at least a half-mile wide. Not even a Hunnuli could bolt through those ranks alone.
Gabria dropped her head. She was too late. It had not occurred to her that she might not be able to reach the Khulinin, and now that possibility was all too real.
Suddenly a horn sounded on the walls of the fortress. Clear and proud, its notes soared over the valley. Gabria stared at the fortress with pride and she felt her crumbling will revive. Behind those alien walls of stone, the four clans were still adhering to tradition with the horn call to sunset. She noticed angrily that the sorcerer’s army had not bothered to reply. They had sunk so deeply into conquest that they had abandoned the traditions of the clans.
She was leaning over to say something to Nara when the mare’s ears swiveled back and her nose turned to catch the breeze.
“What is it?” Gabria whispered. Her hand crept to her dagger. Without her other weapons, she felt ill at ease, and she wished that she had brought her sword.
Men are behind us. The whip carriers. They are seeking us.
Gabria drew her dagger and hid it in a fold of her cloak. If the Oathbreakers were seeking her, they would find her. When they did, no weapon—save, perhaps Nara—would save her if the men of Krath wanted her dead. But the cold, hard feel of the knife under her hand steadied Gabria as she waited quietly for the men to come.
Gabria wondered why the Oathbreakers were trailing Nara. The last she had heard, the cult was besieged in their towers by Medb’s forces, and no man among them would desert his post. She shuddered. If the Citadel of Krath had fallen, Medb cultists would have all the arcane tomes, manuscripts, spells, and artifacts in his grasp. He would be able to bring the clans to their knees in a matter of days.
Just then, out of the twilight, a shrouded figure on a dark horse rode into the trees. The figure raised his hand in a sign of peace as ten other riders rode up behind him. The man threw back his hood, revealing his thin, cruel face. He nodded and said, “Hail, Corin, and well met.”
Gabria inhaled sharply. It was Savaric’s brother, Seth. She stared at the bloodied gash on his forehead and at the weary, blood-stained men behind him.
Seth nodded, his fury barely contained. “Yes, we are all that is left. The citadel fell yesterday. Now we ride to the fortress. Do you wish to go?”
Gabria could only nod.
Seth motioned for his men to dismount. “We will go at midnight,” the Oathbreaker said curtly. Then, without another word, he withdrew with his men and sat down to wait.
It was an hour after midnight when Gabria and the Oathbreakers started. Hundreds of campfires burned in a broad swath across their path. Guards and squads of men patrolled among the tents. Somewhere a drum beat endlessly, as if marking the single heartbeat of the enemy camp. Medb had not bothered to fortify his flanks, for he expected no attack from behind.
Gabria and the men, leading their horses, were able to slip past the sentries to the outskirts of the encampment unnoticed. They gathered behind several wagons near the old road and waited for the path to clear.
They only had to wait a few minutes before Seth nodded to his men. As they mounted their horses, Gabria shot a glance down the road and saw that it was clear. She mounted Nara and closed her mind to everything but the road ahead, the road to safety and the clan.
Gabria’s eyes began to gleam. She leaned forward over Nara’s mane and the Hunnuli instantly sprang forward. The mare’s ears were flattened and her head stretched out. Her hooves rang on the stone. Behind them, Seth and the cultists galloped in a tight group, their whips uncurled and the wrath of their goddess revealed on their faces.
Horns suddenly bellowed around them; men began shouting and running toward the road. The stone path still lay empty, but through the tents came soldiers to cut them off. Nara screamed a challenge as a mass of dark-skinned Turic warriors surged toward her. Gabria answered with the Corin war cry and hung on as the Hunnuli tore into them.
Snapping and kicking with hooves deadlier than any sword, the horse plunged into the attackers with ferocious speed until the men fell back in terror. The Oathbreakers followed the mare closely, their whips cracking with killing force. Arrows rained down among them, and one of Seth’s men fell. Still they raced on behind the fury of the Hunnuli.
Before Gabria realized it, they had passed the main camp and reached the fields and front lines. Startled, enraged faces turned toward the riders and the horns blared again. Then Nara raced past the defenses and toward the old stone bridge. Before the mare lay the dark, littered, bloody ridge and the road to the fortress gate.
Gabria prayed fervently someone would open the gate. Already she could hear the sounds of hooves as enemy riders galloped in pursuit. The fortress remained ominously quiet. Nara neighed imperiously as she ran over the bridge and up the road, but the gate still remained closed. Gabria glanced back and, seeing the pursuing riders, she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Open the gates, her mind cried.