Dark Horse

20

Two days later, just before noon, Nara paused on a high hill overlooking the valley of the Isin River. From the crest, Athlone and Gabria looked down on the army encampment spread out before the defile. Sections of the big camp had been destroyed in the battle, but other sections were teeming with people and three new camps had sprung up displaying the banners of the Murjik, the Shadedron, and the Reidhar clans. Even as Gabria and Athlone watched, an outrider galloped among the tents toward the fortress and clanspeople began to swarm to the edge of the camps. .

“They seem to be expecting us,” Athlone said dryly.

Gabria nodded. Athlone gently twisted her around to face him and looked into her eyes. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

She leaned against him. “I have nowhere else I want to go. I belong to the clans.”

“Even if the council passes a death sentence?”

Gabria smiled nervously. “Then I may change my mind.”

Nara trotted down the slope to the valley. By the time she came to the edge of the encampment, a huge crowd had gathered. The clanspeople were strangely silent, for they did not know how to deal with the heretical sorceress who had saved the clans. No one cursed or reviled Gabria, but no one welcomed her, either.

The Hunnuli stopped, her path barred by the throng. Koshyn, Ryne, and Jol of the Murjik walked through the crowd and came to stand in front of Nara.

“Greetings, Lord Athlone,” Koshyn said. “I am glad to see you are safe. Greetings to you, Gabria.”

Athlone dismounted and gave his hand to Gabria. She slid off the mare and faced the chieftains, her back straight and her eyes proud.

Athlone was about to return the greeting when Lady Tungoli came running through the clanspeople and past the chiefs. She hugged her son fiercely; laughing and crying in turn, then she turned to Gabria and without hesitation embraced the girl with the same joy and relief.

“You did everything you could to save my son,” she said softly in Gabria’s ear. “Now I will do what I can to save you.”

Gabria hugged her with gratitude.

“Athlone,” Koshyn said, “word of your coming has forewarned us. If you are willing, we are ready to convene the council in the palace.”

“My lords,” Tungoli’s clear voice rang out. “A favor. Gabria’s fate affects all the clans. I ask that this meeting be held in the open so all the clanspeople may attend.”

Koshyn looked at Ryne and Jol, then Athlone. They all nodded. “So be it,” the Dangari said. “We’ll meet in the courtyard.” A murmur of approval swept through the watching crowd.

With one hand resting on Nara’s neck and the other hand on Athlone’s arm, Gabria walked up the stone road to the fortress. The crowd parted before her and followed close behind, as the girl, the Hunnuli, and the chiefs went through the fortress and gathered in the wide courtyard before the general’s palace.

The remaining chiefs had already arrived and were waiting on the palace steps. Lord Sha Umar leaned shakily against a pillar, his arm in a sling from his arrow wound. Lord Caurus of the Reidhar and Malech of the Shadedron stood side by side, looking ill at ease, but there was no sign of Medb’s old allies, Ferron and Quamar.

Koshyn quickly explained the change of the council to the other lords, and they, too, agreed. Seats were brought for the chiefs and they made themselves comfortable at the top of the steps, under the arched portico.

Athlone held Gabria close for just a moment before he went to join the lords. The girl stayed at the foot of the steps, her fingers twined in the Hunnuli’s mane. Tungoli stayed with her. The other clanspeople crowded into the courtyard until the area was packed.

Lord Koshyn rose. As the oldest, healthiest surviving chieftain of the four triumphant clans, he had assumed some authority the past eight days. He stood now and took control of the council. “Lord Athlone, we welcome you. We are deeply stricken by the death of your father.”

Athlone nodded his thanks, for he did not trust himself to speak at that moment. He was still not used to the title of ‘lord’ or the aching grief that filled him whenever he thought of his father.

Koshyn went on. “I will tell you now what has happened since you left,” He gestured to the five other chiefs. “We are all that is left of the original council. Branth has fled, as you know. Lord Ferron killed himself shortly after the battle, and Lord Quamar of the Ferganan has already stepped down. Of the sorcerer’s army, the exiles and the mercenaries are either dead or scattered. The Wylfling await the punishment of the council.

“As for the three clans that joined Medb, they did so at the instigation of their lords and they did not fight in the final battle. Only the werods came with the army, their families still wait at the Tir Samod for some word of their fate. If you agree, Athlone, we have decided to suspend their punishment. We believe it is the only way to begin reuniting the clans.”

Athlone rose from his seat. “I agree with the council’s decision. There has been enough hatred and bloodshed.”

Koshyn nodded once, then he looked down at the young woman standing quietly beside her Hunnuli. He was dismayed by the closeness he had seen between Athlone and Gabria. He had no idea what this council would decide, but he did not want Athlone to be forced to kill someone he obviously loved.

“Now we have to face the most difficult decision of all. Gabria, you have saved our clans and our way of life from destruction. For that, we owe you endless gratitude. But in doing so, you used a heretical power that is forbidden on pain of death.”

“You have thrown us into quite a quandary,” Sha Umar spoke up. “If we follow our laws and put you to death, we bring dishonor on the clans for rejecting our debt of gratitude, but if we ignore our laws and allow you to live, we open the door for any magic-wielder who wants to practice sorcery.”

“Perhaps it’s time we did,” a voice called from the palace. The crowd stirred and muttered among themselves, for everyone recognized the rich voice of Cantrell.

The blind bard walked out of the palace doors accompanied by Piers. Cantrell’s step was firm and unhesitating as he came to stand beside Koshyn. “We have tried to ignore magic for two hundred years, and look where our fears took us. The clans were nearly destroyed by a man who abused the arts of sorcery. If our people had learned from their mistakes and regulated sorcery instead of turning their backs on it, this war with Medb would not have happened.”

“But magic is a perversion!” a priest shouted from the crowd. He was supported by yells of agreement.

“That is what our ancestors wanted to believe, and they stuffed their lies down our throats in every tale, prayer, and law. But I tell you,” Cantrell said as he rose to his full height and spread his hands out to include every person there, “magic is as natural as the air we breathe. It is only as dangerous as the person who wields it. If Medb had not had magic at his use, he would have simply used other weapons to conquer us.” The bard pointed to Nara. “Look at the Hunnuli. We all believe in the inherent goodness of such horses. They were gifts to us from Valorian. A Hunnuli nearly killed Medb, yet another stands here beside Gabria. If magic were evil as we have been taught, would the Hunnuli stay with the girl?”

The large crowd began talking and arguing amongst themselves. They had never heard or seen anything like this.

Lord Jol stood up. The old chief was shaken by Cantrell’s words, but he did not like change and stubbornly clung to the safety of the laws. “This girl broke clan law!” he shouted, “She impersonated a warrior, joined a werod, attended a council meeting, and claimed herself chieftain. For those crimes alone she should be put to death.”

Athlone came to his feet, his face dark with anger. “Those crimes occurred while Gabria was with my clan. As her chieftain, it is my responsibility to deal with her punishment. This council need only concern itself with her use of sorcery.”

Koshyn nodded in agreement and held up his hands to calm the two men. “Today we only need to decide what to do about Gabria’s sorcery. We have to remember,” he said with an ironic twist of his mouth, “if we have her put to death, we are killing the last of the Corin. Another great dishonor for our clans.”

The lords were quiet for a time, some of them looking at Gabria, others looking anywhere else but at the girl. The onlookers continued debating loudly with each other. Gabria remained still, her stomach twisted in knots. She was terrified of this meeting, but she had known from the moment she broke the Woman of the Marsh’s magic that she would have to face the council.

Cantrell took a deep breath and walked with Piers to the edge of the steps. “My lords,” the bard said, his voice ringing through the courtyard, “if you kill the girl, Gabria, for using magic, then you shall have to put me to death, too, for I, also, have the talent to use magic.”

The noise around the palace abruptly stopped as every person stared at the venerable bard in shock.

Cantrell cocked his head at the silence. “I try not to use my talent, but it inadvertently comes out in my riddles.”

Piers looked at the stunned faces around him and said, “My lords, you will have to kill me as well. I, too, have used magic. I do not have the talent to wield it, but I have a stone of healing that works by a magic spell and has healed several people in my clan.”

Athlone shook his head. He should have known Piers was mixed up somehow with Gabria and the sorcery. He glanced at the other lords. Lord Jol was slack-jawed and Malech of the Reidhar was looking distressed; Koshyn had a faint smile on his face. Sha Umar simply looked fascinated.

Slowly, Athlone stood up and his movement drew everyone’s attention. He motioned toward Cantrell and Piers. “I seem to have a talent to wield magic, too. I have only known for a few days, but in that time I have learned a great deal.” He went down a step and held out his hand to Gabria. Proudly she walked up to stand beside him.

“I believe it is time to change the laws,” Athlone continued. “Not only to save Gabria, but to save ourselves. Even if we kill her and wash our hands of this incident, another person with the talent will come forward, perhaps to destroy us. For our own survival, we need to learn the ways of magic again and to regulate it. I beg you, lords, change the laws. I do not wish to die, but I will stand with Gabria.”

The other six chieftains stared from Piers and Cantrell to Athlone and Gabria. Before they had time to really think, Koshyn drew the lords together and began talking heatedly to them. Lord Jol continually shook his head, and Lord Caucus looked doubtful, but at last they seemed to reach some son of agreement.

Lord Koshyn stepped forward. He said to Gabria, “I suppose it is too much to demand that you never use your sorcery again.” Gabria held tightly to Athlone’s arm, her heart pounding.

“My lord, I cannot promise that,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “There may come a time when I will need my power. Lord Branth is still missing and the Book of Matrah with him. But I will promise this, I will never use magic in any way that will harm the clans. I swear on the honor of the Corin.”

The Dangari chief glanced back at the other lords. They merely nodded.

“Then listen to our decision. The council frees you, Gabria, from the punishment of death in gratitude for your courageous rescue of our clans. But the law forbidding magic must stand until such time as the council can decide what to do about this issue. Lord Athlone, you are to be held personally responsible for your actions as well as those of Gabria, Piers, and Cantrell. If at any time they break the laws that are decided upon, they and you will be put to death. Is that acceptable?”

The watching crowd broke out in an uproar of mixed relief and anger. They had no choice but to accept the chieftains’ decision, but many of the clanspeople, especially those who had not been involved in the battles with Medb, were not pleased.

But at that moment, Gabria did not care. Athlone swept her up in a joyous embrace and Tungoli ran to embrace them both.

Athlone went up the steps with Gabria and faced Koshyn. The younger chief grinned broadly at them both.

“We accept your decision,” Athlone called to all the chiefs. To Koshyn, he said quietly, “Thank you, my friend.”

Koshyn’s blue eyes twinkled. “Just don’t make me regret it.” He turned to watch Gabria as she went to embrace Piers and Cantrell. “I can see now the laws must be changed, but it will take a great deal of time and persuasion.”

“Thanks to you, we have the time.”

“How will you handle Gabria’s punishment with the Khulinin?” Koshyn asked curiously.

Athlone grinned. “I will make her marry me.”

Koshyn burst out laughing. He clasped Athlone’s arm, and the two men went to join the other lords.

The evening light lingered softly in the sky as Athlone and Gabria walked alone by the Isin River. They followed the grassy banks past the encampments to a place where a burial mound had been built on a small hill overlooking the fortress and the valley.

There had been many dead to mourn after the battle with Medb’s army. The bodies of the exiles and mercenaries had been burned and buried without ceremony. Medb’s body was burned and dumped in the river. The dead of the clans were buried in a large mound near the fortress. Savaric, though, had been sent to the Hall of the Dead with every honor. His body rested now in the large mound crowned with a ring of spears.

Athlone and Gabria stood by the mound as the quiet twilight dimmed. Overhead, a hawk soared in the cool evening breeze.

“Do you think he was terribly disappointed with me?” Gabria asked, looking up at the spears silhouetted against the sky.

“I doubt it. Surprised, maybe. But he would have been proud of your courage,” Athlone replied.

She laid her head back on his shoulder. “Do you suppose he would have put me to death for joining his werod?”

Athlone chuckled. “Father would probably have considered marriage to me punishment enough.”

“But what. . .”

He tilted her head up. “Enough questions.” Then he gathered her close and kissed her.

High above them, the hawk cried once and swept away into the darkness.