Lightnings Daughter by Mary Herbert (read me a book txt) 📕

fingers. He gave a frantic, tremendous lunge that brought him close to the weapon. He stretched every muscle and tendon in his arm to reach the hilt.

Gringold paid no attention to the heaving of his victim. He was too certain of victory. The Khulinin would be dead in seconds. He closed his eyes and bared his teeth as he squeezed harder.

All at once, Athlone's fingers touched the cold leather wrapping the hilt of his sword. In that moment, his rage and desperation fused with the magic within him into a furious surge of power. A faint aura of blue, so dim it could not be seen in the morning sun, glowed around his fingers as he clamped onto the sword. The energy burst outward from every muscle and nerve ending, and galvanized into one mighty effort. He brought the sword up and over, hacking into the curve of Gringold's unprotected neck.

The blade cut into muscle; blood splattered over both men. Unseen, a pale burst of blue sparks exploded out of Athlone's hand as the magic power seared into the wer-tain's body.

Gringold died instantly. He jerked once and slowly toppled over Athlone, his dead face twisted in a grimace of surprise and rage.

Athlone gasped a lungful of air. He felt the pain and roaring in his head recede into darkness. A blessed quiet stole over him, and, as his sword fel from his hand, he passed into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER NINE

A shocked silence hung over the crowd for several moments while everyone stared at the two men lying in the dust. Then the quiet was shattered. The clanspeople broke loose in excited talk, sporadic cheers, and wailing from Gringold's relatives.

Gabria drew a long, ragged breath and slumped against Nara. She tasted blood in her mouth where she had bitten her lip.

He lives, Eurus told her, and she nodded grateful y.

Piers and the Reidhar's healer stepped out of the crowd at the same time and hurried to their men.

They pul ed Gringold's heavy body off Athlone and checked the two warriors. The clan healer glanced at Lord Caurus and shook his head.

Caurus gritted his teeth. The duel was over. Surgart had chosen his champion.

The ring of clanspeople began to break up. Several men approached the wer-tain's body and bore him away to his family. The travelers gathered around Athlone.

"He's not badly hurt,” Piers assured them. "He has mostly bruises and flesh wounds."

"Then why do I feel like a stampede just ran over me?" Athlone croaked. The chieftain opened his eyes and squinted at the anxious faces around him.

Sayyed flashed his bright grin. "A stampede did run over you. A very large and ugly one."

Carefully, with Piers's help, Athlone sat up. "He's dead?"

They al nodded.

"I had the strangest feeling when I struck him. I thought I . . ." Athlone stopped and looked at his hand.

Piers and Gabria exchanged wondering glances.

"Most men have strange feelings when they're being strangled," Bregan said.

Piers quickly stanched the bleeding in Athlone's shoulder, and he and Bregan helped the chief to his feet.

Athlone breathed deeply in the warm spring air. "Saddle your horses. We're leaving." His words were hoarse from his bruised throat, but his tone was adamant.

"My lord," Piers protested, "you can't possibly ride."

At that moment, Lord Caurus joined them. Most of his belligerence was gone, replaced by a modicum of concern and regret. "Lord Athlone, surely you will rest here tonight."

The Khulinin chieftain glared at him. He was aching, his shoulder was on fire, his face was battered and bruised, and he was utterly exhausted. He was in no mood to placate this bad-mannered lout. "You said one night, we stayed one night. I will not remain in this treld another hour."

Caurus's face flamed bright red. He started to say something, but Athlone straightened, let go of Bregan, and walked away without another word. The others followed. Caurus made no effort to go after them.

While Athlone sat on a stool and Piers fussed over him, Gabria and the men packed their gear, saddled the horses, and prepared to leave. When they were ready to go, Athlone turned his gray stallion over to Bregan and mounted Eurus. Gabria hid a smile of joy and relief. Since none of the Reidhar came to bid them farewell, the party left the treld without fanfare and rode west up the valley to rejoin the caravan road.

They had traveled only a few leagues from the treld before Piers took a close look at Athlone's pale face. He called an immediate halt and ordered the chieftain to rest. Ignoring Athlone's protest, the party stopped and made camp along the banks of a small stream. Gabria arranged the chief's blankets on a soft mat of leaves and grass; Piers gave him a mild concoction of poppy extract and wine. Athlone decided he was too weary to argue further. He drank the wine and was asleep in moments.

Bregan, too, lay down to sleep in the warm sun, and Valar and Keth went hunting. The others stayed near camp and relaxed.

Gabria changed from her woman's skirts back into her pants and warm tunic, which were more practical and comfortable than skirts on a journey like this. She had learned to enjoy the easy movement and the lighter weight of pants. She pushed back her hair and went to start a cooking fire. She hoped the hunters would find something. The supplies were dwindling fast.

"Rider coming," Secen shouted. The travelers drew together and watched warily as a horseman, leading a pack animal, came up the valley. The man, who wore the yellow Reidhar .cloak, stopped at the edge of camp and saluted respectful y. He did not seem surprised to find them so close to the treld.

"Lord Caurus ordered me to bring you these supplies and to offer his apologies. He hopes that when the Khulinin visit again he will be able to prove his hospitality."

"I hope so, too,” Secen muttered.

Piers stepped forward to take the