Valorian (40 page)

Valorian's reluctance seemed to ease in the face of such a sensible idea. He plucked the gorthling off his shoulder and dropped it to his knee, where he could see it better in the moonlight. Now that the gorthling was away from his head, the strange hesitancy to send it back weakened even more.

Valorian's eyes widened in alarm and comprehension. So the gorthling was trying to influence his mind with its own insidious thoughts. That was why he had wanted to slaughter every Tarn and keep the gorthling by his side. If the creature could alter his emotions so easily after just half a day, what control would he have had left of his mind if he had waited for several days? The realization washed away the last tendrils of his unwillingness. Valorian knew without a doubt that the gorthling couldn't be allowed to remain the night—for the sake of his immortal soul.

"Unless you wish to eat that gold ring, you will tell the truth to every question I ask," he informed the wizened creature on his knee.

The gorthling had no choice when it was under the power of the bright gold. It hunched down, its lip curled up in a silent snarl. "What do you wish to know, nag rider. . . the truth? You have seen it. Your power is sevenfold when I am with you. Nothing can touch you. Nothing can harm your family or your people when you wield such magic. Think about the possibilities!"

Valorian ignored the conniving tone and demanded, "Would I be able to use my consciousness and return you to Gormoth the same way I brought you out?"

"Yesss. . ."

Valorian caught the edge of smugness at the end of the reply. "But?" he prompted.

"Yes, you can go back. But there are dangers."

"Like what?" demanded the chieftain.

The gorthling's face wrinkled even more in its effort not to answer, but it couldn't fight the power of the gold around its neck. Its words came spitting out. "If you try to enter the realm of the dead without a Harbinger to guide you, you could become lost in the mists of the barrier, where there is no escape. If you do find a Harbinger to guide you and you make it through, Lord Sorh may not al ow you to enter the realm of the dead while your body stil lives. You slipped '" through once, but not again. And he's probably not happy that you kidnapped me!

"Nor wil the other gorthlings let you into Gormoth. They have sensed your mind, and they know your presence. They would catch you the moment you opened the door." The gorthling suddenly broke off and smirked at Valorian. "Do you know what they would do to you? They might torment your mind for eternity or maybe just a few years. If your consciousness ever returned to your body, you would be .

. . utterly. . . hopelessly. . . demented!" It chuckled at the whole idea.

In the back of his mind, Valorian had been afraid of something like that. The hatred and the malice he had felt in Gormoth had been focused too intently on him when he pul ed the gorthling out. The others probably knew he would have to return his prisoner sometime, and they had all eternity to wait for him. He scratched his neck where the dried sweat itched and thought about other ways.

"Could the Harbingers take you back?" he suggested.

"No!" the gorthling rasped. "Those messenger boys only obey Lord Sorh." At the thought of the god of the dead, the gorthling began to grovel on Valorian's leg. "Please, master. Let me stay with you. I wil wear your nasty gold and obey your every whim. Please let me stay," it wheedled.

Valorian wasn't moved this time by the gorthling's attempt to sway him. Beneath the whining voice and the pleading posture, there was an indistinct phosphorescent glow in the creature's eyes that sent shivers down the clansman's back. "Enough!" he snapped. "Tel me what other ways will return you to Gormoth."

The gorthling hissed its frustration, but it finally had to answer. "There is only one other way-the ancient way that Lord Sorh used to trap us in the mountain." It cackled suddenly with derision. "Not that it will help you. No simple, weak-handed mortal can wield the power necessary to return me!" Still cackling, it leapt into a mad dance on Valorian's knee, as if it had just conclusively proved its victory.

The chieftain had had quite enough of the gorthling's antics. Muttering an imprecation, he snatched it up by the golden armband and shook it until it stopped its wild movements and hung there glaring at him. "Just tell me what it is!" he insisted furiously.

"Yes, master! Nice master!" the gorthling crooned and rubbed its tiny hands over the man's fingers.

Valorian dropped it in disgust back onto his knee. It giggled nastily. "You have to make an opening through the barrier between the mortal and immortal world and send me through it. If you could do that, which you can’t, your magic would return me to Gormoth.

"What power do I need to make this opening?"

With a snicker, the gorthling replied, "There is only one in the mortal world that will work, but it would fry you to ashes and turn your nag into vulture bait."

"And that is?"

The gorthling waved a hand at the east, where a faint flash illuminated the mountain peaks for the blink of an eye. "Lightning."

Valorian went numb and cold all over. Oh, sweet, merciful goddess, not that! he thought, terrified at the very suggestion. His one experience with lightning had been enough to last him a lifetime and beyond. And the gorthling was right. Even with the enhancement of his power, he didn't have the strength to withstand the unbelievable energy of a white-hot bolt of lightning.

Master,
Hunnul's quiet, reassuring voice touched his mind.
We could use it together.

There was a long pause, then Valorian said, "Tell me." His voice was unsteady as he tried to balance hope and fear.

When we were struck by lightning before, you know the bolt left some of its strength within me. In
some way I do not understand, it has made me invulnerable to its power. !f you are in touch with my
body when you call the lightning, you should be protected.

" 'Should be'? Not 'wil be'? " Valorian asked dubiously.

The stallion cocked his head to look back at Valorian out of one deep, velvet eye.
We have never
tried this before, so I cannot be certain.

Valorian considered Hunnul's words. The whole concept of using lightning as a fuel for a magical spell was completely beyond his experience or knowledge. He had only a horse's word that it might not incinerate him the second he touched it. That was hardly reassuring.

But it was intriguing. He had sensed the traces of the searing power in Hunnul and, if the stallion were right, it would be worth the attempt to create a spell that would send the gorthling back through the barrier alone.

There was only one other problem: There was no lightning close by. He was certain that even with the gorthling's help, he didn't have the skil to create the intricate and vast forces that birthed a thunderstorm. Nor could he form lightning out of thin air. Fires, bolts of magical energy, rockslides, or images of warriors were spells he could manage, but lightning was a power far beyond his present ability and knowledge.

The only hope he had was to use real lightning, but once again, there was none available. The existing storm was too far away to be of any use. It was probably somewhere over the Ramtharin Plains, and by the time he rode Hunnul there, it would be long gone.

Relief, disappointment, and frustration ran through his mind in turn. What were they going to do?

"It won't work," he said morosely to Hunnul. "We have no lightning to use."

The gorthling sneered. "No lightning! Of course not, moron. The stars are out. And why are you talking to that creature? Did you think that worm-eaten grass biter was going to help?"

Hunnul gave a snort.
Actual y, I think I can.

Valorian sat straighter. "How?"

Lightning begets lightning. I think we can use our power to pull the storm close enough for you to
draw on its energy.

"We?"

My foals and I.

“Oh, gods above!" Valorian murmured weakly.

There were no more excuses, no more reasons to hesitate.

He had pul ed the gorthling out of its prison, and it was his responsibility to send it back by whatever means necessary-even lightning. He swallowed his terror and said softly to Hunnul, "Let's try it.”

The gorthling leaped upright, its eyes glowing like coals.

"Try it? Try what? What brainless thing are you going to do?

Answer me!" it screeched.

Beth man and horse ignored the creature. Hunnul lifted his head and neighed a long, ringing call into the night.

Out of the darkness, the little ones began to come in answer to their sire's summons. Small and as black as the night, they were ghostly shapes in the moonlight that gathered in a circle around the stallion at the top of the hill.

Only their wide eyes and their lightning marks caught the faint gleam of moon and stars and threw it back with equal brilliance. They shifted noisily in their places like children at play until Hunnul nickered to them to be still.

By that time, there were over seventy Hunnul foals in the Clan herd, and every one of them down to the smallest, only a few hours old, was there to help their sire. Gently he told them what they were going to do, and they filled the night air with whinnies of excitement.

Hunnul quieted them again. As one, father, sons, and daughters raised their muzzles to the sky, where the stars sparkled across the ebony spaces, and joined their power to summon the storm. A deep stillness settled over the horses' motionless forms, and a silence as palpable as the darkness.

Valorian barely breathed, so rapt was he in the unmoving spectacle of the horses, the night, and the magic. Only the gorthling fidgeted, for it didn't understand what was happening, and its suspicions were beginning to burn.

Nothing seemed to happen for a long while. The ring of smal horses and the stal ion in the center remained held in the spell of their unseen power, while the moon continued to gleam and the man and the gorthling watched.

The changes came imperceptibly at first, on an indistinct rumble that barely disturbed the silence of the night. Valorian didn't realize what it was until the second rumble sounded, a little louder and longer.

Thunder. He glanced up at the sky to see the first shreds of clouds blowing over the face of the moon. A slight wind stirred the grass.

For a moment, he couldn't believe it No horse could cal a thunderstorm, not even a stallion who had survived a lightning strike. Then a bright flash hid the stars, and three heartbeats later, the thunder boomed through the mountains. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, Valorian realized the storm was coming and he had better be prepared to receive it.

Working only with his intuition and his memories of the realm of -the dead, Valorian quickly worked out a spel that he hoped would propel the gorthling through the barrier of mists and back into the mountain of Ealgoden. Al he needed was the lightning bolt to blast the opening into the immortal world and the courage to use it. Overhead, the sky was almost overcast, and the night had become as black as burned pitch. There was no light at al except for the blinding explosions of energy that danced across the face of the coming storm. The wind came gusting over the slopes, bringing the damp smell of rain.

Valorian felt every muscle in his body tighten into thrumming wires. To his amazement, he realized the magic around him was increasing, as if something was intensifying its strength. He remembered that same phenomenon had happened before when the Clan crossed the river just before the thunderstorm broke. It had to be the huge forces of the storm and the lightning that produced that effect. It could be a useful thing to remember.

Then he grinned to himself. The strengthening magic could be a useful thing now! He wouldn't have to rely on the gorthling's enhancement when he had magic of his own surging around him in an ever-increasing tide. Quickly he dismounted and carried the gorthling to a flat rock several paces away.

"Don't move. Stay on this rock," he ordered.

The gorthling looked up at him with hatred, its eyes glowing fiercely. "What are you up to, mortal?

Are you trying to kil yourself?" Valorian turned his back on the creature and returned to Hunnul. The storm was close now, its winds blowing flat across the grass. Lightning crackled nearly overhead.

Get ready, master,
Hunnul warned him.

Valorian wrapped his legs tightly around Hunnul. The gorthling's influence on his power was gone because of the distance between them, so he drew on the intensifying energy around him to form the beginnings of his spel .

Al at once the gorthling understood what the man was trying to do. A blood-chilling shriek rent the night over the sound of the thunder and wind. "You fool! You can't do this! I belong here now! I'll never return to Gormoth." The gorthling jumped up and down on its rock, but because of the gold stil around its neck, it could not disobey Valorian's order to stay. It grew even angrier. It shouted maledictions at the top of its lungs at Valorian, Hunnul, the foals, the Clan, and even Lord Sorh, and when no one paid attention to it, it broke into hideous, unending screams.

Valorian shut out its voice. The lightning was close now, and he could feel its power vibrating through his being. His mouth was so dry with fear he could barely whisper a prayer to Amara to protect him. A raindrop spattered on his nose, and a sizzling streak of lightning ripped through the clouds overhead. It was almost time. Slowly he raised his hand toward the sky.

The gorthling saw his movement and its shrieking stopped. "Don't do it, mortal! Don't condemn me to go back to that prison," it shouted in fury. "I wil curse you into the tenth generation! The goddess of life has given you and your blood descendants the ability to wield magic, but I will take that away!

Someday, in some place, your talent will come to be hated and feared as you hate me. Others wil hunt down your descendants and destroy them! Do you hear me, Valorian? Your magic saved your family yesterday, but if you send me away, I will see that it brings everyone who carries your blood to annihilation!"