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

His arcane shield was down, and he was sweating. He looked as tired as she felt.

Gabria knew she did not have the strength at the moment to cal upon the Trymian Force, yet there were other spel s she knew wel that did not need as much effort. She snapped a command, and the bits of rock and gravel around the gorthling's feet were transformed into a swarm of wasps.

The insects buzzed around the gorthling, stinging his human body and infuriating him. He felt his strength waning. He had seriously misjudged this sorceress. She had taxed his power with her unexpected human diseases and her determined counterattack, then he had foolishly drained his own strength to destroy her mind only to have her rescued by the Hunnuli at the last moment. She surprised him with her intelligence and self-will. The gorthling knew he was too weary to continue the fight at the present time. He needed a short time to rest until he could think of a way to destroy this woman and take his revenge on the clans. He vowed he would never leave until he had fulfilled his lust for their blood.

With a furious word, he dispel ed the wasps into dust and looked around for some means of retreat. His eyes found the ring of stones on the holy island. For the first time, he noticed the clanspeople clustered on the far banks, and an idea took shape in his mind. Humans had a weakness for the safety of other humans. This woman was likely no different.

A furtive movement out of the corner of his eye caught Branth's attention. Before Gabria knew what he was doing, he ran a few steps toward the council tent and pounced on two men trying to peer around one wal . Both men carried swords, but the gorthling stunned them into immobility with a spel and disarmed them.

Gabria choked back a cry when the gorthling shoved his prisoners in front of him. They were Lord Wortan of the Geldring and Wer-tain Guthlac.

"Do not come near me, Sorceress," the gorthling shouted. "Or these men will die horribly!" He slowly edged around the tent and began to back toward the river, keeping Wortan and Guthlac between himself and Gabria. Nara paced his movements step by step.

At the water's edge he grabbed the two men and hauled them in with him. Both were dazed and could barely stumble through the shal ows. He forced the men on through the Goldrine toward the holy island. The Hunnuli and her rider stood on one shore fol owing his every move; the clanspeople stood along the other banks watching what was happening.

The gorthling raised a hand. A lurid red glow ignited over his body, and before everyone's horrified gaze, he began to grow. His body grew tal er and larger until he towered higher than the trees and his shadow fell on the people on the west bank. His face warped into a huge mask similar to the gorthling's original wizened features. The beast roared his fury and reached toward the nearest crowd of people.

Those by the water's edge screamed in panic and tried to flee, but the press of people blocked their way.

Gabria screamed a warning. She tried to block Branth's hand with a spell, but she was too late. The gorthling grabbed seven people with his enormous hands and dragged them, struggling and shrieking, into the river to join his other hostages. As a diversion, he sent several blasts of the Trymian Force into the fleeing crowd.

Gabria was able to destroy all but one of the blasts. The last searing bolt struck a group of clanspeople, killing six and injuring many more.

"Stay back, Sorceress!" the gorthling bellowed. "Or I'll kill all of them." Wordlessly, Gabria watched the gorthling shove his hostages together. Even as she racked her brain for a useful idea, the gorthling took his nine prisoners into the circle of stones and sealed the ring with a protective arcane shield, then he shrank back to normal size to conserve his strength.

Gabria gritted her teeth. She had failed. On the far riverbank, screams, wails, and cries of grief and pain blended into a lament that cut Gabria like an accusation. This disaster was her fault. She had not been strong enough to defeat or even contain the gorthling, and now the problem of fighting the creature was worse than ever.

She lifted her gaze to the island, her eyes glittering like cold gems. The gorthling had out-maneuvered her this time. She swore she would not let that happen again. Somehow she would find a way to defeat the beast and send it back where it belonged.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Gabria!" someone shouted. "What's going on?"

Lord Sha Umar ran to Nara's side and stared at the holy island where the gorthling had retreated.

"What is Branth trying to do?" he asked.

"That isn't Branth anymore,” Gabria replied wearily. "Lord Branth summoned a gorthling in Pra Desh, and the creature invaded his body."

Sha Umar was horrified. "What's he doing here?"

"Trying to kill magic-wielders."

The chieftain looked over at the woman for the first time and noticed how wan and tired she appeared. "Where is Athlone?" he asked.

"North of here. Half a day's ride." She glanced at the sky and saw with surprise that the sun had barely risen to its midmorning height. Her battle with the gorthling had seemed interminable to her, but it had taken little time.

The island was quiet for the moment. Gabria could make out the group of prisoners huddled together in the center of the stone circle. Branth was sitting on a flat rock nearby, watching his hostages and resting. Of course, Gabria knew he was not resting completely. He was stil using power to maintain the faint red force field that glimmered around the circle of Stones.

On the opposite banks of the two rivers the camps