Dark Horse (6 page)

"Lord Savaric," she said. "By the Hunnuli that bears me and the gods that nourish us, I am the child of Dathlar and I
know
who had my clan murdered." She spoke forcefully, her eyes matching Savaric's black gaze.

Savaric sat down again, still holding the dagger, examining it as if it bore a vestige of the man who had once carried it. "If nothing else, the Hunnuli is the strongest plea in your favor. She alone vouches for your character."

Athlone stepped to his father's side. "Hunnuli or no, there was sorcery at Corin Treld. We cannot accept this boy's word so easily." He leaned over and grasped the cloak. "Anyone with a little ingenuity could obtain a scarlet cloak and an interesting tale."

Gabria snatched the cloak out of his hands and held it tightly to her breast. Fury blazed in her eyes.

"Yes, sorcery formed the fog at Corin Treld, sorcery spun by the hand of lord Medb. Not I!"

It was the first time Lord Medb had been mentioned, and the significance of his name was not lost on the watching warriors. They muttered uneasily among themselves and no one looked surprised at her accusation. Athlone was not surprised either, and he made no attempt to hide his suspicions of Lord Medb's rumored heresies.

"Perhaps not. But you could be a servant sent by Medb to spy on us. Certainly you could not have survived the massacre or obtained a Hunnuli mare without help," Athlone replied with deliberate derision.

"Certainly not," Gabria retorted. "Since you are convinced it cannot be done."

"I know it is not possible for a mere boy to earn a Hunnuli's respect. I ride a Hunnuli stallion and taming him was no task for a child."

"I can see why it was so difficult for you," Gabria noted with heavy sarcasm. "The Hunnuli are good judges of character."

Several of the guardsmen laughed. Savaric crossed his arms, watching the exchange with interest.

The boy had pride and courage to stand up to a wer-tain. He certainly learned that from his father.

Athlone shrugged. "Then you accomplished it the simple way, with sorcery or coercion, knowing a Hunnuli could help you worm your way into our clan. How can we not think you are an impostor?"

"Why do you think that?" Savaric interrupted conversationally.

"Impostor!" Gabria nearly shrieked, cutting him off. She cringed at the high note her voice had hit and quickly lowered it again, hoping no one had noticed its feminine tone. She knew Athlone was deliberately baiting her, but she had had enough of him and his arrogant accusations. He did not realize how close he was to the truth. "You faceless, din-eating, dung shoveler. . ."

She continued on at length, richly describing Athlone's habits and character with every appellation she had heard her brothers use, until the men around her began to choke with il -concealed laughter.

Even Savaric was taken aback. Athlone's face began to turn red and his mouth hardened to a granite slash. Finally, before his son's temper exploded, Savaric cut Gabria off with a curt word.

"Now," he said to Athlone in the sudden silence. "I would like to know why you think this boy could be an impostor."

Athlone stood by the dais, his body rigid. There was something wrong about this boy---he could sense it. But he could not recognize what it was. Incredible as the boy's story sounded, it was plausible.

Athlone knew ful wel that the Hunnuli could not be won by coercion or treachery. Yet a niggling little warning disturbed him. The boy was not tel ing the truth about something.

He stared hard at Gabria, at a loss to explain his suspicion.

"Medb would like to have an informer in our camp. Why not a boy with a story of kinship to Dathlar?" He curled his lip. "Or maybe he is just a miserable exile using a stolen cloak to gain acceptance.”

"I am an exile," Gabria cried. "Medb made me one. Because of him my clan no longer exists." A bitter sadness seeped into her heart, stifling her outrage. "I came to ask for a place in the Khulinin, to seek aid against Lord Medb, for he is too powerful for me alone. There was no magic in my coming to you, or treachery. Only blood ties. There was only pain and hard work in winning the Hunnuli." She held out her hands, palms up, and the men saw the raw cuts for the first time.

The cold left Athlone's eyes and his anger receded under the pain he saw in Gabria's face. He glanced at his father and briefly nodded.

Savaric stood up and the hearthguard moved to his side. "I would gladly accept you into this clan and do everything I can to help you attain your rightful blood debt. To my eyes, you are Dathlar's son, and to my heart, you are honest and very courageous. However, it is the clan that must sustain you. In this case, I wil let them speak. Come."

He walked to the entrance, followed by Athlone, Gabria, and the others. Nara, seeing the girl surrounded by the guardsmen, firmly pushed between them and Gabria until the men drew off to a respectful distance. Gabria reached up and twined her fingers into the horse's glossy black mane.

You are well?
Nara asked.

Gabria nodded, her face turned to the watching clansmen. The people were quiet as Savaric told them Gabria's tale and her reasons for seeking the Khulinin. They listened intently. The men, in warm woolen jackets, baggy pants, and boots, stood to the front of the crowd. The women, dressed in long skirts and tunics of bright colors, stood as a brilliant backdrop behind their men. Many faces were expressionless, despite the fear that pervaded the encampment.

When Savaric was finished speaking, several men detached themselves from the crowd and conversed together for a few minutes. Gabria recognized them as the elders of the clan, Savaric's advisors. One wore the emblem of the herd-master, the head stockman, and one was a priest of Valorian. No one else from the throng offered a word. The decision, it seemed, rested on the elders.

The herd-master finally approached Savaric and said reluctantly, "Lord, we do not want to endanger our clan with the evil and taint of sorcery this boy brings, but there are too many sides to this tale to refuse him outright. He does ride a Hunnuli, and to turn the mare away might bring the gods'

displeasure. If you agree, we feel it would be just to allow him a time of trial. If he serves you well and follows the laws of the clan, then let him be accepted. If he does not, then he is truly exiled."

Savaric nodded in satisfaction. "Gabran, you may stay with the clan. You and the Hunnuli are welcome. . . for now." He smiled at her as the clanspeople slowly dispersed. "Athlone will be your mentor,” he said, ignoring Gabria's horrified look. "When you have washed and had some food, I would like to continue this conversation about Medb and how you won your Hunnuli."

Gabria leaned against Nara and said weakly, "Yes, Lord."

The dazed young girl was too drained to even react when Nara said in her mind
, The first contest is
yours.

“How can you be so certain it was Lord Medb who ordered the massacre," Lord Savaric asked as he leaned back on his fur-draped seat. "You have not given us sufficient proof to believe your accusation."

Gabria slumped in frustration. "I have told you everything I can."

"It is not enough. You are bringing serious charges against a clan chieftain. How can you know what happened at the encampment? Or that it was an exile band that slaughtered the clan? You say you were not there."

"No, I was not there during the kil ing, but I know! I can read the signs of battle and I know what led up to the massacre,” she cried.

Gabria was sitting before the dais, facing Savaric, Athlone, and the clan's elders, who were seated in a semicircle before her. They had been interrogating her for several hours, and she had told them repeatedly everything she could remember of that awful day at Corin Treld and the days following. Still they were not satisfied.

Behind her, the men of the werod had gathered to hear her story. They clustered in silent groups around the fire pit. Gabria was very self-conscious sitting before this large crowd of men. It seemed as if any second, one of them would see through her disguise. They were so quiet and watchful. If she turned her head slightly she could see them, their dark, muscular faces regarding her with a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and speculation. A flagon of wine was being passed around, but few of the warriors were enjoying it.

The girl wished they would finish this inquisition. It was night and getting quite late. During the day she had had a chance to eat, clean off a little of the dirt, and rest. But now she was getting tired. Gabria had refused to part with her cloak and sat with it bunched up on her lap.

"Can't you understand?" she asked sadly. "Lord Medb needed my father's cooperation. Our clan was small, but we were the first he had attempted to win to his favor. The other chieftains in the north respected Father. With his support, Medb would have had some control in the northwest." Savaric nodded to himself. He had been fol owing Medb's plots for some time, but even he was shocked by how far the chieftain seemed willing to go. .. And your father refused these overtures of friendship?"

"Violently." She laughed bitterly, remembering her father's exact words. "Medb only made one offer. When that was rejected, he resorted to coercion and threats and final y an ultimatum."

Athlone was sitting on a leather stool near his father. His hand idly scratched the ears of a large deer hound as his eyes watched Gabria and the reactions of the men around him. "What sort of ultimatum?" he demanded.

Gabria spoke slowly, stressing each word. "Lord Medb made it clear that he wants to be overlord of the clans. To that end, he offered Father the lordship of all the northern lands. If Father refused, our clan would die."

The men burst out in a loud clamor of outrage. Whispers of Medb's bid for absolute power over al the clans had been blown from one encampment to another all winter, but the idea of a sole monarch was so far-fetched to the clansmen that few people had paid close attention.

"No!" The herd-master's voice cut through the noise. "I cannot believe this. No chieftain would have such audacity. How can he offer power that is not his to give?"

"The power is not his yet," Gabria interjected. "But he made good his threat to my father."

The master turned to Savaric, who was watching Gabria thoughtfully. "Lord, how can you listen to this. Lord Medb's clan is many days' ride from the Corin range. It would be senseless for him to look so far afield."

"Yet, you agree he is looking," Savaric replied.

The man shifted uneasily. "We have all heard the rumors of Medb's growing ambitions. But this is absurd."

Savaric stood up and paced in front of the dais. "Is it?" He posed the question to al the men. "Think about it. Medb needs al ies to help him hold the vital regions of the grasslands. The Corin were a perfect choice. If Dathlar had agreed to his offer, Medb would have held a valuable hammer in the north, a hammer he could have used with his clan in the south to crush us in the middle. But," Savaric said as he gestured at Gabria, "when the Corin refused, Medb used them as an example to the other clans. He is proving he is deadly serious."

The warriors' voices quieted and even the herd-master looked pensive as the full impact of Savaric's words sank in. The chieftain stood by the stone seat, momentarily lost in his own thoughts.

Gabria closed her eyes and let her head droop. The chief seemed to understand after al , and if he did, that was al that mattered. She was too exhausted to worry about the others. Sleep was all she wanted now. The girl felt her body sag and her head seemed to grow heavier. She heard Athlone get to his feet and say something to his father.

Then someone dropped a cup on the floor, and the metal rang dully as it struck the hard-packed earth. The clang caught Gabria's attention like the distant clash of swords. She dragged open her eyes.

Her glance fell into the fire burning in the center of the hearth. Everything was silent; she could feel the eyes of the men upon her, but she could not see them. She could only see the flames. The girl began to breathe faster and her heart raced.

In the back of her mind Gabria heard a faint thunder, like hoof beats, that mingled with the crackle and roar of the fire. She tried to move as the sound grew louder, to escape the noise and the terror that came with it, but the thunder engulfed her and swept her into the light of the fire. The flames bounded high, burning away her self-awareness. The men, the hall, even the fire faded into obscurity while her consciousness fel helplessly through the lurid gloom and touched a dying link with Gabran, her twin brother. Born together, they had always shared a special bond, and now, like the touch of a dead hand, his presence coalesced out of the chaos and led her back to the paths of Corin Treld.

Her vision cleared and the familiar encampment lay before her, shrouded in a veil of thickening mist. "Fog," she mumbled. "Fog is coming in. Where did it come from?" Her voice changed and seemed to take on another personality.

Athlone tapped Savaric's arm and nodded at the girl. The chieftain suddenly frowned and stepped forward, motioning his men to keep silent.

Gabria swayed, her eyes pinned in the fire. "The herds are in. Everyone is here, but. . . wait. What is that noise? Taleon, get Father. I must find Gabria. There are horses coming. It sounds like a large troop,”

Her words came faster and her face drained like a pale corpse. The men about her watched in fascination.

"Oh, my gods, they are attacking us!" she shouted and stood up, gesturing wildly. "They are burning the tents. We must get to Father. Where is Gabria? Who are these men?"

Abruptly her voice went heavy with grief and rage. "No! Father is down. We must stand and fight.

The women and children run, but it is too late. We are surrounded by horsemen. Fire everywhere. We cannot see in this smoke and fog.

"Oh, gods. I know that man with the scar. These men are exiles! Medb sent them. He swore to kil us and he has. The cowards, they are bringing lances. Oh, Gabria, be safe. . ."

The words rose to a cry of agony and instantly died into a silence of emptiness and despair. Gabria's link with her brother snapped and the vision was gone. She trembled violently, then crumpled to the floor. A sigh, like a suppressed breath, wavered through the listening men.