Lightnings Daughter by Mary Herbert (android based ebook reader .txt) 📗

dark eyes piercing under a line of bushy eyebrows. "When he first arrived, he ignored our laws forbidding sorcery and tried to sell his services. Then, he simply stole or conjured what he wanted.

Before long he had the entice city in an uproar. He became such a problem that the city guards tried to arrest him. He killed them all. Then the ruler of our city, the Fon, captured him."

A note of suppressed rage hardened the nobleman's voice. "The Fon is an ambitious woman. She not only wants to rule Pra Desh, but Calah and the other Five Kingdoms, as well. She has already laid her plans to take over the rest of the country and invade our neighbor, Portane, in just two months' time.

Somehow, she has coerced this Branth into serving her. She uses his book and his power to strip our fine city, all to build her armies. She will lay waste to Pra Desh just to satisfy her insatiable lust for power."

Khan'di paused. When he spoke again his voice was calmer.

"Lady Gabria, Branth's presence has become intolerable. I beg of you, please come to Pra Desh and remove this man before the Fon fulfills her plans. I know I am asking a great deal, but if you could just take him away, the people of Pra Desh---nay, of all Calah---would rise up and deal with the Fon themselves."

The hal went very quiet as the clansmen waited for a response. Gabria looked at Athlone's stony face, then at the splinter of the Fal en Star, the mark of a magic-wielder, glowing redly just under the skin of her wrist.

Sadly, she touched the bright spot. After the Hunnuli's warning and this news from the Pra Deshian, Gabria felt that she had no choice. She would have to try to find Branth before he wrecked havoc on the city or returned to the clans to take Medb's place. She knew, too, what she would have to postpone her marriage to Athlone. It wouldn't be right, beginning their life as husband and wife under such difficult circumstances.

"Athlone," she said into the silence. "He's right. I must go to Pra Desh as soon as possible."

At first the chief did not respond. He sat and stared into the fire for several long moments, his expression showing no trace of the conflict that warred within him. Finally he seemed to reach a decision, for he tossed out the dregs of his wine and slammed his cup on the arm of the stone seat. He did not notice that the horn cup split from the force of the blow.

Rising, he said tersely to the men around him, "It is late. We will make plans for the journey tomorrow. Gabria will go to Pra Desh."

His companions were startled by the abruptness of his dismissal. They stood and began to leave the hall.

"Bregan," Athlone called to one of the warriors. "Stay. I need to talk to you."

Gabria gazed at the chief's back, trying to hide her hurt. He had accepted her decision without a word; perhaps he didn't care after al . Since her return from the temple, she had found Athlone to be angry, irritable, and interested only in the news she could give. She began to wonder if she had misread him earlier. He was not worried that she was missing, simply angry that she had disobeyed his command by leaving the temple to go to Corin Treld. Perhaps in six months he had already changed his mind about her. She rose to go, her heart heavy. She looked up when Piers touched her sleeve.

The healer read the look in her eyes and understood.

"Don't take his rudeness to heart. The responsibilities of a chieftain weigh heavily on him tonight,”

he said gently.

She looked up at her old friend and squeezed his arm. "It's not very often you defend Athlone." The healer's pale eyes met hers with sympathy and caring.

"I'm fond of you both. Don't worry. Athlone wil come around as soon as he straightens out his own thoughts."

Wearily she nodded, more hope than conviction in her heart, and the healer took her arm. "Come,”

he said. "I have your old sleeping place ready for you." He led Gabria out of the hall and down the path toward his tent. She looked back at the hall entrance, hoping Athlone would cal to her, but the lord was talking to a warrior and did not even seem to notice she had left. She bowed her head and hurried on with Piers.

In the hal , Lord Athlone paced back and forth by the fire pit. The hall was momentarily empty, save for Bregan. The warrior was standing silently by the dais, waiting for his chieftain to speak.

Bregan was twenty years older than Athlone and a handspan shorter. His dark hair, worn short, was graying, and a black and silver beard trimmed his square face. He was dressed in a warm tunic and pants with none of the ornamentation or gold jewelry that was the privilege of a warrior of his experience. His features were well-defined, but in the past winter a deep sadness had left permanent lines on his forehead and face. Bregan watched his lord despondently, for he knew what Athlone was going to ask him and what he would have to answer.

Lord Athlone final y stopped pacing and said, "Bregan, I have asked you twice to be wer-tain and both times you refused. I have to ask you again. I need you as commander of my warriors."

Bregan shifted uncomfortably. "Lord, you know I can't."

Athlone held up his hand. "Before you refuse again, hear me out. I am going to Pra Desh with Lady Gabria."

The warrior did not look surprised. "Good. Branth must die,” he said flatly.

"And Gabria must not," Athlone muttered. He put his hands on the older man's shoulders. "I understand how you feel, but I am chieftain now and I must leave this clan in