But it was intriguing. He had sensed the traces of the searing power in Hunnul and, if the stallion were right, it would be worth the attempt to create a spell that would send the gorthling back through the barrier alone.
There was only one other problem: There was no lightning close by. He was certain that even with the gorthling’s help, he didn’t have the skill to create the intricate and vast forces that birthed a thunderstorm. Nor could he form lightning out of thin air. Fires, bolts of magical energy, rockslides, or images of warriors were spells he could manage, but lightning was a power far beyond his present ability and knowledge.
The only hope he had was to use real lightning, but once again, there was none available. The existing storm was too far away to be of any use. It was probably somewhere over the Ramtharin Plains, and by the time he rode Hunnul there, it would be long gone.
Relief, disappointment, and frustration ran through his mind in turn. What were they going to do? “It won’t work,” he said morosely to Hunnul. “We have no lightning to use.”
The gorthling sneered. “No lightning! Of course not, moron. The stars are out. And why are you talking to that creature? Did you think that worm-eaten grass biter was going to help?”
Hunnul gave a snort. Actually, I think I can.
Valorian sat straighter. “How?”
Lightning begets lightning. I think we can use our power to pull the storm close enough for you to draw on its energy.
“We?”
My foals and I.
“Oh, gods above!” Valorian murmured weakly.
There were no more excuses, no more reasons to hesitate.
He had pulled the gorthling out of its prison, and it was his responsibility to send it back by whatever means necessary-even lightning. He swallowed his terror and said softly to Hunnul, “Let’s try it.”
The gorthling leaped upright, its eyes glowing like coals.
“Try it? Try what? What brainless thing are you going to do?
Answer me!” it screeched.
Beth man and horse ignored the creature. Hunnul lifted his head and neighed a long, ringing call into the night.
Out of the darkness, the little ones began to come in answer to their sire’s summons. Small and as black as the night, they were ghostly shapes in the moonlight that gathered in a circle around the stallion at the top of the hill.
Only their wide eyes and their lightning marks caught the faint gleam of moon and stars and threw it back with equal brilliance. They shifted noisily in their places like children at play until Hunnul nickered to them to be still.
By that time, there were over seventy Hunnul foals in the Clan herd, and every one of them down to the smallest, only a few hours old, was there to help their sire. Gently he told them what they were going to do, and they filled the night air with whinnies of excitement.
Hunnul quieted them again. As one, father, sons, and daughters raised their muzzles to the sky, where the stars sparkled across the ebony spaces, and joined their power to summon the storm. A deep stillness settled over the horses’ motionless forms, and a silence as palpable as the darkness.
Valorian barely breathed, so rapt was he in the unmoving spectacle of the horses, the night, and the magic. Only the gorthling fidgeted, for it didn’t understand what was happening, and its suspicions were beginning to burn.
Nothing seemed to happen for a long while. The ring of small horses and the stallion in the center remained held in the spell of their unseen power, while the moon continued to gleam and the man and the gorthling watched.
The changes came imperceptibly at first, on an indistinct rumble that barely disturbed the silence of the night. Valorian didn’t realize what it was until the second rumble sounded, a little louder and longer. Thunder. He glanced up at the sky to see the first shreds of clouds blowing over the face of the moon. A slight wind stirred the grass.
For a moment, he couldn’t believe it No horse could call a thunderstorm, not even a stallion who had survived a lightning strike. Then a bright flash hid the stars, and three heartbeats later, the thunder boomed through the mountains. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, Valorian realized the storm was coming and he had better be prepared to receive it.
Working only with his intuition and his memories of the realm of -the dead, Valorian quickly worked out a spell that he hoped would propel the gorthling through the barrier of mists and back into the mountain of Ealgoden. All he needed was the lightning bolt to blast the opening into the immortal world and the courage to use it. Overhead, the sky was almost overcast, and the night had become as black as burned pitch. There was no light at all except for the blinding explosions of energy that danced across the face of the coming storm. The wind came gusting over the slopes, bringing the damp smell of rain.
Valorian felt every muscle in his body tighten into thrumming wires. To his amazement, he realized the magic around him was increasing, as if something was intensifying its strength. He remembered that same phenomenon had happened before when the Clan crossed the river just before the thunderstorm broke. It had to be the huge forces of the storm and the lightning that produced that effect. It could be a useful thing to remember.
Then he grinned to himself. The strengthening magic could be a useful thing now! He wouldn’t have to rely on the gorthling’s enhancement when he had magic of his own surging around him in an ever-increasing tide. Quickly he dismounted and carried the gorthling to a flat rock several paces away.
“Don’t move. Stay on this rock,” he ordered.
The gorthling looked up at him with hatred, its eyes glowing fiercely. “What are you up to, mortal? Are you trying to kill yourself?” Valorian turned his back on the creature and returned to Hunnul. The storm was close now, its winds blowing flat across the grass. Lightning crackled nearly overhead.
Get ready, master, Hunnul warned him.
Valorian wrapped his legs tightly around Hunnul. The gorthling’s influence on his power was gone because of the distance between them, so he drew on the intensifying energy around him to form the beginnings of his spell.
All at once the gorthling understood what the man was trying to do. A blood-chilling shriek rent the night over the sound of the thunder and wind. “You fool! You can’t do this! I belong here now! I’ll never return to Gormoth.” The gorthling jumped up and down on its rock, but because of the gold still around its neck, it could not disobey Valorian’s order to stay. It grew even angrier. It shouted maledictions at the top of its lungs at Valorian, Hunnul, the foals, the Clan, and even Lord Sorh, and when no one paid attention to it, it broke into hideous, unending screams.
Valorian shut out its voice. The lightning was close now, and he could feel its power vibrating through his being. His mouth was so dry with fear he could barely whisper a prayer to Amara to protect him. A raindrop spattered on his nose, and a sizzling streak of lightning ripped through the clouds overhead. It was almost time. Slowly he raised his hand toward the sky.
The gorthling saw his movement and its shrieking stopped. “Don’t do it, mortal! Don’t condemn me to go back to that prison,” it shouted in fury. “I will curse you into the tenth generation! The goddess of life has given you and your blood descendants the ability to wield magic, but I will take that away! Someday, in some place, your talent will come to be hated and feared as you hate me. Others will hunt down your descendants and destroy them! Do you hear me, Valorian? Your magic saved your family yesterday, but if you send me away, I will see that it brings everyone who carries your blood to annihilation!”