Lightnings Daughter (31 page)

Gabria saw the sense of his move and handed him her dagger. The Oathbreakers despised metal, so it would be best not to insult them by carrying steel into their stronghold. Besides, Gabria knew full well that if the Oathbreakers wanted her dead, no weapon---save magic, perhaps---could protect her.

She waited while Athlone remounted, then threw her hood back and stared intently at the heavy stone portcul is. It's too bad there is no thunderstorm, she thought, since mere rainstorms did not seem to enhance magic. She could have used the added power to help shatter the arcane wards. Gabria wondered briefly if any of the cultists were magic-wielders. Someone had to have set the wards.

But as she studied the smal tiles inset into both sides of the gateway, she realized the wards were very old. Seth had told her once that the Oathbreakers had a collection of old spells and relics left by the ancient sorcerers. These wards were probably from that collection. They would work well against normal humans, but they were too old and weak to withstand a full arcane attack.

Ignoring the heavy rain that soaked her neck and shoulders and plastered her hair to her head, Gabria raised her hand and began her spell. Once again the diamond splinter glowed under her skin. She did not notice that Athlone was watching her with a fascinated intensity. She spoke a command, pointed to each ward, and concentrated her magic on them. They held for only a few moments, then the old wards cracked and the tiles fel out of the wal . Gabria spoke a second command, and the heavy portcullis began to slide up in its grooves. There was a cracking noise behind the oak door and, suddenly, the entire door fel back and crashed heavily to the ground.

Gabria glanced back at Athlone with a faint smile of satisfaction. She was pleased when he nodded with approval and gestured to her to enter first.

Nara snorted and stepped carefully over the fallen door. Eurus and the colt came close behind. The three Hunnuli walked into a dark, empty courtyard that lay before the keep. Gabria held her arm high so anyone watching could see the glowing splinter in her wrist. She and Athlone strained every sense to catch any movement or hidden danger.

Though no attack came, a tall, black-robed figure did emerge from the deep shadows of the keep. A long hood hid his face, and a black whip hung at his belt. He stopped on the steps in front of the Hunnuli and slowly pushed back his hood. In the fading daylight the two riders recognized the gaunt, hawk-nosed face of Seth, brother of Lord Savaric and high priest of the Cult of the Lash.

"Welcome, Sorceress, to the citadel of Krath," he said coldly.

The woman nodded in reply. She did not dismount at once, but sat on Nara and returned Seth's deadpan scrutiny. It was said of the followers of Krath that they could look into a man's heart and find the hidden evils that were buried there; they pried into secrets and opened guarded emotions that were secreted behind masks. Because of this, few men dared to look an Oathbreaker in the eye, but Gabria was different. She had faced horrors and tragedies, trials and triumphs, until the facades of her life had been worn away, and she had learned to face herself for what she was. She had no fear of what Seth would find in her heart. She knew herself wel and had nothing to hide.

After a moment, the high priest seemed to reach the same conclusion, for he nodded once, pul ed his hood back over his face, and gestured for them to follow. Gabria tied the bag with the golden mask to her belt, then she and Athlone dismounted and hurried after the priest. The Hunnuli went to stand in the shelter of a nearby shed.

The priest led his visitors up the stairs of the keep, through a wide door, and into the central hall.

The big room was dark except for a fire burning in the large fireplace against the opposite wall.

The flames gave off just enough light for Gabria and Athlone to see around the empty room. Unlike the rich luxury of the Fon's main halls, this one was stark and barren. There were no rugs or wall hangings, just bare stone. The only furniture in the room was a long, stone table set before the fireplace.

On the right wall, a staircase went up to a gallery that ran the length of the hall and half hid a series of arched doorways.

A huge, painted statue, the height of several men, sat in the shadows against the far wall and leered down on the visitors. Gabria recognized the red-painted face and the multi-armed body of the goddess, Krath. The goddess was in a sitting position with her six arms reaching out. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, and her eyes were wild and malevolent.

Gabria stifled a shiver and turned away. Praying silently that Amara would come into this house of Krath and protect her, the sorceress hurried on after Seth.

The priest moved to the fireplace and stood before the flames for several minutes. He did not offer his guests food or drink. When he spoke again, he simply said, "Your need must be urgent for you to break our door."

"If you had answered us in the first place, Uncle, she wouldn't have had to do that,” Athlone snapped.

The high priest turned toward the chieftain. The man's face was stil hidden by the hood of his robe, but his eyes burned in the firelight. Athlone gritted his teeth and met his uncle's stare. He had turned away from Seth's merciless eyes once, a year ago, but he would not do it this time. He forced his eyes to remain steady on the unblinking, penetrating glare. It was like looking into the eyes of a cobra.

Seth suddenly threw back his hood. Athlone and Gabria were surprised to see a sardonic smile twist up the corner of his mouth.

"You have grown stronger since last summer, Nephew," Seth stated. "Now, why are you here?"

"We think Lord Branth used the
Book of Matrah
to summon a gorthling,” Gabria stated flatly.

To her dismay, Seth's emotionless, hard-lined face actually blanched. "How do you know?"

Gabria described her vision, the events at Pra Desh, and Branth's subsequent actions. When she repeated the message spoken by the dead man, Seth's mouth tightened.

"From what we know of gorthlings, I believe you are right,” he said. "The creature has invaded the man's body."

The sorceress nodded. "I was hoping something in your library could help us. We have to find some way to destroy it."

The high priest was silent, as if caught up in some internal debate. Then, without a word, he took a torch from a bracket, lit it in the fire, and strode toward the stairs. Athlone and Gabria hurried after him.

The woman glanced up at the gallery overhead and gasped; shadowy forms stood in the arched doorways. The figures melted back into the darkness as the high priest walked up the stairs, and by the time Athlone and Gabria reached the top, the gal ery was empty. Nevertheless, the two clanspeople sensed the wary, watchful presences that lurked just out of sight in the lightless corners.

Seth paid no heed to his men nearby, but walked on through a maze of hal s and corridors, past closed doors, down stone stairwel s, and deep into the heart of the citadel. Everywhere they went, Athlone and Gabria felt, rather than heard or saw, the constant attendance of the unseen watchers.

At last Seth came to a stout door that was bolted with a brass locking mechanism. The two clanspeople watched in fascination while the priest drew a key from his sash and deftly undid the myriad bolts. He pushed open the door and walked in.

Athlone and Gabria stepped inside and looked about in wonder. The large room was lined with shelves. Though many of the boards were empty, about one hundred books and manuscripts lay piled in various places around the room.

Books were a rarity to the clans, for they were difficult to obtain and a nuisance to move from place to place. Normally only healers, priests, and clan chieftains could read, although occasionally the wer-tains, the chieftains' families, or the priestesses of Amara learned the difficult skill. Gabria had never been taught, and as she looked over the Oathbreakers' precious volumes, she thought she would one day like to learn.

"I thought Medb's men destroyed your books," she said to Seth.

"Some of them, yes. But we were able to hide the most important ones." He set his torch in a bracket on the wal and gestured to a table and benches in the middle of the room. Silently he searched through the priceless collection of books.

"I'm afraid there is very little here that will help you,” he said, studying the tomes.

Gabria's heart sank. She had hoped desperately that the Oathbreakers would have some useful information. She did not know where else to turn. "Do you know of anyone else who might know?" she forced herself to ask.

The high priest pul ed out several volumes and shoved them back. "I've read al of these. They are just general essays on magic. The problem is that there was never much written about gorthlings. All we know is that they are easy enough to summon, but they are treacherous, cunning, and vicious. If they taste blood, they can inhabit any body they choose. Once that happens, it becomes extremely difficult to send them back,”

"Send them back where?" Athlone asked.

"A gorthling cannot be destroyed or kil ed, it must be sent back to Sorh in the realm of the dead."

"How?" Gabria cried in exasperation.

Seth's reply was chil ing. "I don't know how. The only ones who ever summoned a gorthling successfully were Matrah and Valorian. Matrah's spells are probably in his tome."

Gabria sighed. "That doesn't help us much."

"What about Valorian?" Athlone suggested.

"Valorian never wrote anything down. He did not wish those spel s concerning the gorthlings to be remembered."

The chieftain threw his hands up and paced restlessly to the shelves. "So now we are stuck with a bloodthirsty creature bent on destroying Gabria, and we have no hope of getting rid of it."

Seth turned his basilisk stare on his nephew. "I did not say there was no hope. The gorthling's human body is vulnerable like any other flesh, and its ability to use sorcery is limited by its own knowledge and its body's weaknesses. It can be destroyed, but you wil need strength, ingenuity, and courage."

"A few words of instruction would be better," Gabria muttered. She half-turned to say something to Athlone when the heavy weight of the bag banged against her leg. She remembered the mask.

"Perhaps you could tel me what this is," she said, unwrapping the mask and laying it on the table before her.

Seth's cold expression did not change, but he reached out and touched the gold surface. "Where did you get this?"

"I found it in Moy Tura." The priest's head snapped up, and he stared at Gabria.

"You were in Moy Tura? Is the Korg stil there?"

"Yes," she replied with a half-smile. "It was because of him that we found the mask. It was hidden in a temple."

"The gods were leading your steps," Seth declared.

"Do you know what that is?" Athlone asked.

"It is the death mask of Valorian." The high priest studied the gold mask on the table. "If anything could help you fight the gorthling, this mask might."

"How?" Gabria demanded.

"The mask was once a powerful talisman. It was used in secret ceremonies for the worship of Valorian. When the clans destroyed Moy Tura and the magic-wielders, the mask and everyone who had used it disappeared."

Athlone crossed his arms. "How do you know about it?"

Seth gestured to the books. "It was described in those several times."

"But you don't know how to use the mask's power," Gabria said.

"Unfortunately, no. That was a secret that was only passed on to the priests of Valorian.

Nevertheless, if the magic is still viable, you might be able to discover the artifact's purpose and put it to your own use."

Gabria nodded half-heartedly. She was very disappointed. The high priest had not given her much useful information, only puzzles, hints, and more questions.

Seth, sensing her frustration, wrapped the mask in its cloth and gave it back to her. "I am sorry I cannot be much help, Sorceress. Yet you should not abandon your quest. The gorthling is powerful, even more so housed in a human body endowed with magic. It must be sent back or it wil wreak havoc in this world."

The sorceress nodded again, without reply. There was nothing more to say. Silently the priest led his two guests back to the main hal and escorted them to the front door. Despite the rain and the darkness he did not invite them to stay, and they did not ask.

Before Gabria walked down the steps toward the waiting Hunnuli, the high priest stopped her.

"If you are successful in defeating the beast, sorceress, come back. We have other books and relics from Moy Tura. They belong to the heirs of magic. I will teach you how to use them."

"Thank you, High Priest," she answered. "I will."

Under the wary gaze of the hidden cultists, Gabria and Athlone mounted their Hunnuli and rode out of the citadel to rejoin the hunt for Branth.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Athlone and Gabria did not stop after leaving the citadel of Krath. They rode through the night, letting the Hunnuli follow the old stone road that ran south along the flanks of the Himachal Mountains.

The man and woman traveled silently, each lost in his or her own thoughts and weariness.

At sunrise the Hunnuli came to the Isin River and the fortress of Ab-Chakan sitting on its ridge at the opening of the defile of Tor Wrath. The riders paused for a brief time at the edge of the valley, and their eyes turned to the crumbling old fortress and the two burial mounds nearby. The larger mound contained the bodies of the fallen clan warriors; the smaller mound was the grave of Lord Savaric.

Athlone was very quiet as he looked on his father's mound. The memories of many words and deeds passed through his mind. When he and Gabria were ready to go, the chieftain raised his fist in salute to his dead father and rode on. For a long while after leaving Ab-Chakan, Athlone's expression was very thoughtful.

The horses continued to fol ow the old road south beside the Isin River. The Isin was a natural guide to the Tir Samod and the clan gathering, and the two riders hoped to find their party somewhere along the banks. At midmorning the three Hunnuli stopped for a drink of water from the shallows under a shady tree.