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

had owned another dagger once. It had been a gift to her father from Lord Savaric, and she had found it in the smoking ruins of her home. It had been her only physical remembrance of her dead father.

Unfortunately, on that afternoon when she faced Lord Medb in the duel of sorcery, she had transformed her father's dagger into a sword to slay her clan's murderer. The weapon had been destroyed with Medb's body.

She realized then that Athlone understood how much the old dagger had meant to her. The armband was his gift of love, but the jeweled weapon was his gift of hope that she could build a new life.

Gabria wiped the tears from her eyes with a scrap of wool and carefully laid the gifts aside. She found her empty sheath, slid the dagger in, and fastened it to her belt. The weight of the weapon felt good on her side. She curled up in her blanket once more and watched the fire die to embers.

As the coals' glow dimmed, Gabria promised herself that she would endure this exile. She would go back to Khulinin Treld in the spring and do everything in her power to build a good relationship with the clan and with its chieftain. She owed herself nothing less.

CHAPTER TWO

Gabria did not realize how much the events of the previous summer had drained her emotional y and physically until she had time to relax. After only a few days at the temple, she caught a cold and came down with a fever and racking cough. For days she stayed in the smal temple, curled up on her crude bed, lost on the paths of her thoughts. She had barely enough strength to eat or fetch water and firewood. Nara kept watch over her and waited worriedly for the illness to pass.

One cold night as Gabria tossed in a feverish, restless doze, she thought she heard the sound of Nara's hooves gal oping up to the temple. There was the soft thud of footfal s, then she sensed another person close by. She struggled to wake until a cool hand soothed her forehead and a familiar voice spoke softly to her. A cup filled with a warm herbal drink was brought to her lips. She drank without opening her eyes and settled down into a peaceful sleep.

Piers stayed with her through the night and slipped away at dawn, leaving behind a stack of wood, a filled water jug, and a simmering kettle of soup. He did not come back after that night---he did not need to. His herbal drink eased Gabria's symptoms and his brief, comforting presence revived her interest in survival. Gabria was not sure how he'd known of her il ness. She could only thank her goddess that the healer cared enough to risk the visit.

The food Piers had given Gabria sustained her through the days of her malaise. However, as her il ness eased and she regained her strength, she realized the supply of food was dwindling rapidly. She would need more than a few beans to keep herself alive. One cold, cloudy afternoon she forced herself to take her bow, mount Nara, and hunt in the hil s for meat. To her pleasure, her skil with the bow had not diminished. She brought down a smal deer, and that night she feasted on venison.

The exercise and the meat were just what she needed, and Gabria felt stronger than she had in days. After that she went out every afternoon to ride Nara, or to hunt, fish, or gather food in the hills.

Her health and her good spirits returned in ful measure. She was pleased to notice that, as she grew stronger, her intense grief for her family began to ease, taking with it the bitterness and anger that had burned within her during her struggle for revenge. She was left with a growing sense of contentment and release.

As the last days of autumn passed, Gabria began to enjoy the solitude of the little temple, the peace of her thoughts, and the quiet companionship of the mare. She felt closer to Amara in this place, and each day she knelt by the altar in-the light of the rising sun to give thanks to the Mother Goddess for sustaining her.

Nara, too, seemed to thrive in the peace of the temple. The foal within her, sired by Athlone's Hunnuli stallion, Boreas, grew steadily and filled out Nara's sides as she grazed contentedly on the dried winter grass of the hills.

Although no one came to visit them, Gabria often saw Athlone at a distance, keeping a watch on her. His vigilance meant a great deal to Gabria, and she always acknowledged him with a wave.

The only thing that began to bother Gabria as the time passed was boredom. She spent many hours every day gathering food and turning the stone temple into a more comfortable dwel ing. But there were times when she had nothing to do. Then loneliness would creep in, and she would long for the distractions of a busy treld. She wanted to find something that would keep her busy during those lonely, dull times.

Then one rainy, cold night she found the answer. An autumn storm had blown in suddenly as Gabria was collecting firewood. By the time she'd made it back to the temple, she was soaking wet and chil ed to the bone. She dumped the wet wood in a corner to dry and quickly laid some kindling in the smal hearth she had built. To her annoyance she realized she had not banked the morning coals, and the fire was dead. Gabria tried to light the kindling with her flint and steel, but her hands were trembling with cold and she could not draw a spark. Her frustration grew with every failed attempt.

All at once, an idea flashed in her head: she was a magic-wielder.