Lightnings Daughter, Mary Herbert [year 7 reading list .TXT] 📗

readied himself to return to camp, but something moving in the darkness stopped him. It was the great black bulk of a Hunnuli, a stallion like Boreas. The chieftain's heart leaped with hope and fear. His ghost, perhaps, returning from the dead to aid me when I most need his advice?

The Hunnuli came to his side, but it was not Athlone's long-dead steed. An unfamiliar pair of wise eyes gleamed at him, and a deep, soothing voice said, I am not Boreas, Eurus told him. But I am here.

Thankfully the man leaned against the big horse and ran his hand through the stallion's long, thick mane. He stood, stewing over his problem, his mind working like a boiling pot with bits of thought and feeling bubbling to the surface faster than he could follow them. He loved Gabria and did not want to lose her, yet he did not know how to win her back.

On the heels of those thoughts came the guilty notion that, perhaps, it would be better if he didn't win her back. She was a sorceress. She should be with other magic-wielders, people like Sayyed who would appreciate and support her talent.

Athlone was chieftain of the largest and most respected clan on the plains. Even if Gabria survived this journey and the clan chieftains changed the laws forbidding sorcery, there would always be suspicion, distrust, and hatred for magic-wielders. He was not completely sure he was ready to accept the controversy and the constant battle for acceptance.

With that thought, a bubble of remorse boiled out of his mind. He was a magic-wielder, too. But it was so much easier to ignore that truth, to let Gabria go, and to live peacefully as a mere chieftain with his clan-like his father and his father's father before him.

Athlone twisted the black mane into his fingers. He knew ful well he couldn't take that path and live with himself. No, winning Gabria's heart was the important thing; somehow he would have to find a way to reconcile himself with his talent. If only he knew what to do.

He shook his head in frustration and pushed himself away from the Hunnuli.

The black horse nudged Athlone's chest. Sometimes the heart speaks dearer than the mind, lord chieftain.

Athlone laughed humorlessly. "And sometimes they argue unmerciful y." He patted the horse and went back to the camp. After a word with the sentry, he retired to his smal traveling tent. For Athlone, it was a very long night.

CHAPTER SIX

Gabria and Nara stood in rippling grass on the point of a high bluff and looked down on the green plains below. The woman shielded her eyes from the noon sun and peered downhil to the caravan trail that wound over the rol ing grasslands like a giant snake. The route was not like the stone road near the fortress of Ab-Chakan. It was really nothing more than a dirt path worn into the ground by years of constant use. Nevertheless, it was wide and well marked, and the hooves of countless pack animals had pounded the surface to a rock-hard consistency. In some places the wagons and traders' carts had cut wheel ruts several handspans deep.

Even now, as Gabria looked up the road, she could see the dust kicked up by a distant merchant caravan heading north toward Pra Desh. She glanced toward the south. The semi-arid high plains had gradual y dropped down in elevation as Gabria's party had journeyed east, and the rough grasses and shrubs had given way to lush meadows, scattered copses of trees, and small sparkling streams.

Coming up beside her, Bregan sat back in his saddle and stretched his legs. "It's good to see that road,” he commented. "We should be about half way to Calah."

"We are,” Khan'di noted as he joined them. "But we need to be closer. We've got to get to Pra Desh within twenty days."

"Are you tiring of our journey already?" Piers asked in an icy tone.

Gabria glanced irritably at the healer as the rest of the men came up the hill. Piers and Khan’di had remained bitterly polite to each other, but their poorly hidden animosity was beginning to annoy her.

She sighed and leaned her arms on Nara's mane. After twenty days of constant traveling they all needed a change---especially Athlone. Gabria shot a look at the chieftain.

It was obvious something was bothering him. He was cool and distant to her, spoke to Sayyed only when he had to, and was short to everyone else. Gabria had tried several times to talk to him, but it was difficult to find time for privacy on the trail, and Athlone seemed to avoid her in night camp. After days of being ignored, Gabria was hurt and confused. It was much easier to deal with Sayyed. He was always there, warm and comforting with his ready smile and his easy wit.

Gabria could not help but wonder if Athlone had decided at last that he did not want her. The thought made her half-il with dread. She had given him time to make up his mind, but deep in her heart she had always believed he would finally come to accept her for everything she was. Now she was not so certain. She fought down the queasy feeling in her stomach and tried to dredge up some hope.

The one good thing to come out of the journey was Athlone's friendship with Eurus. Little by little, the man was spending more time with the horse, grooming him, feeding him special tidbits, or just talking to him late at night. The special bond between a Hunnuli and its rider was beginning to form.

Gabria was pleased for Athlone's sake. She decided it would be better if she did not interfere. Eurus knew what he was doing.

She pul ed her cloak closer about her shoulders. The sun was shining, but the early spring winds were cold and