Time passed, although Gabria did not feel it. Her mind was wrapped around the image of a tall, dark-haired warrior with a cleft chin and the look of eagles in his face. She had to find him. The safety of his people depended upon it.
Her summons went on without pause until, far ahead in the horizonless distance, she saw a light appear like sunlight through a crack. Gabria moved instinctively toward it, staring at the brilliant, shimmering golden radiance until its power filled her being and tested the measure of her spirit. A warm sense of comfort and familiarity enveloped her.
The mask shifted in her hands. The light vanished, and the sounds of the world rushed back. Around the island the Hunnuli horses neighed a trumpeting welcome. Gabria was so surprised she opened her eyes and looked at the mask.
The most vivid pair of blue eyes she had ever seen looked back at her.
The death mask twitched, stretched, and the mouth suddenly lifted into a smile. “I have come, Daughter. As you have asked.” The golden face spoke in a voice both powerful and kind. Its words rang out over the island and were heard as far away as the riverbanks.
Gabria nearly dropped the mask in astonishment. She had not known what to expect when she tried to summon Valorian. She had only used the mask as a focal point for her spell. She raised the mask up again.
A question formed in her mind, but she could not bring herself to ask if this truly was the Hero-Warrior from the clans’ distant past.
The mask glowed with a pure radiance, the same light Gabria realized she had seen in her mind. “I am he whom you have called. I am the essence of the man once named Valorian.”
For a moment, Gabria was overcome with joy and awe and an overwhelming desire to cry and laugh at the same time. “I can’t believe you have come,” she said, trying to calm her’ shaking hands.
“Your power is strong, my daughter. Your need must be great.”
“Forgive me, Lord. I have to ask you something that only you can tell me.”
“I will listen. But ask your question quickly. I cannot stay long in this world.”
Gabria shot a glance at the three magic-wielders. Sayyed, already weary and injured, was concentrating fiercely on the spell, and it was obvious to her that he was tiring fast. Tam was ashen, and even Athlone was beginning to look strained. The shield was a difficult spell to maintain, even without the added strains brought on by the gorthling’s constant barrage of destructive magic.
Quickly she turned back to the death mask and looked boldly into the eternal blue eyes. “My lord, one of the Geldring men has summoned a gorthling.”
The mask frowned. “How?”
“With a spell from the Book of Matrah.”
“Those spells should be stricken from all human knowledge. There are some things best left alone by man. Where is this gorthling now?”
“Here. It possessed the man’s body and came to our clan gathering. My lord Valorian, I am the only magic-wielder with any training to speak of, but I don’t know how to destroy it.”
Valorian gazed at her with compassion. “No human, no matter how skilled, has enough power to force a gorthling back through the portal between the world of mortals and the eternal world.”
Gabria turned cold. “It has to be done,” she cried. “How do we get rid of him?”
“Only one thing in your world has the power to open a passage and force the creature back through.”
“What?”
The mask lifted its eyes to the sky. “The power of the lightning,” he said simply.
Gabria’s mouth dropped open. She was aghast. “Lightning? But no one can withstand the fury of the gods’ thunderbolts.”
“You are a magic-wielder, a daughter of my blood. Do you travel with a Hunnuli?”
She nodded.
“Astride a Hunnuli, you will be protected. They bear the mark of the lightning for good reason. Their sire, my stallion, was transformed by the lightning into the first of that noble breed of horses.”
“Lord Valorian,” Gabria said, trying to stay calm, “I cannot create a storm. Where do I find lightning on a clear day?”
“If there are more than one Hunnuli with you, they can summon a storm and its lightning.”
The golden light began to fade from the mask, and the blue eyes dimmed. Valorian’s expression relaxed, then stiffened into the one the mask had worn when Gabria found it.
“Valorian, my lord,” Gabria begged desperately. “What do I do with the power of the lightning?”
“I must go, Daughter,” Valorian said sadly. “Use the lightning to send. . . it . . . back.”
A faint echo followed the final words, as if they had been spoken across a great and hollow distance. Then the mask was still and lifeless once more. Gabria stared at the golden face and willed it to speak again, but it was too late. Valorian was gone, beyond her reach.
“How do I wield lightning?” she called in despair to the voiceless stones. There was no answer here, she knew, and now there was no more time. The gorthling was using a fierce blue barrage against the shield protecting the little group. Already the force field was beginning to waver. Sayyed looked ready to pass out, and Athlone’s teeth were clenched as he concentrated.
“Hold on!” Gabria cried to her friends. “Nara,” she yelled over the noise of the gorthling’s attack. “Call the King Stallion. Tell him to summon a storm.”
Beyond the island, the King Stallion replied with a strident neigh. We have not called the lightning in generations of our kind. We will try.
The ring of black horses abruptly lifted their muzzles to the sky. The Hunnuli on the island, even the colt and the wounded Afer, joined their silent communion with the air. Only Nara and Eurus did not include themselves in the call, deciding instead to keep alert in case their riders needed their aid.
To the Hunnuli’s advantage, the afternoon was perfect for a storm. The day’s heat and a humid wind had already formed billowing clouds in the blue sky, and several little rain squalls patterned the far horizons. As the Hunnuli herd concentrated their power, darker clouds began to gather overhead; the rain squalls moved closer. The horses strained, but the ability they had inherited from their sires served them well.
Gradually the sky grew dark, and a tremendous thunderhead reared out of the forefront of an angry mass of gray clouds. The sun was blotted out, and lightning flickered in the storm’s turbulent heart.
The gorthling looked up, and fear shone clearly on Branth’s face. That fear did not distract him long, though, and he did not miss the events unfolding in the circle of stones.
“Gabria,” Athlone suddenly yelled. “Sayyed passed out. The shield is failing!”
The sorceress jumped on Nara’s back just as the gorthling shattered the magic field. With a wild screech of triumph Branth fired a blast at the chieftain through the breach.
Athlone was too exhausted to defend against it. He saw the bolt coming and leaned into Eurus’s side. The stallion reared up and took the blast on his shoulder, but the violent movement of the stallion and the explosion of power slammed Athlone backward. He crashed to the rocky ground where he lay motionless.
Tam, exhausted beyond bearing, mentally called the Hunnuli that stood by Afer, and two of them immediately joined Eurus to defend the fallen men.
The gorthling turned away. He could not get near the fallen chieftain or the Turic as long as the Hunnuli stood over them, but that did not matter. Neither man would be any more trouble.
Gabria had not moved from the temple. She and Nara stood between the gorthling and the hostages. Behind her she heard Lord Wortan and Wer-tain Guthlac trying to calm the terrified prisoners. Gabria kept her gaze pinned on Branth. The wind was starting to roar through the temple, and thunder rumbled across the sky. The herd of Hunnuli stirred from their motionless concentration and neighed their victory to the oncoming storm.