As he approached that stronghold, Athlone missed Bregan’s strong, solid presence more than ever. The loss of the warrior was a real blow. Athlone would have appreciated Bregan’s level head and experience when the time came to deal with the Oathbreakers. The chief’s hand tightened unconsciously around his sword hilt. If he had to, he would tear down the citadel of Krath stone by stone to get the help Gabria needed to destroy Branth. That murderer had too much clan blood on his hands to remain in this world.
The next day, Gabria and Athlone saw the gray-blue humps of the Himachal Mountains rise above the horizon. The Himachals were a much smaller mountain range than the mighty Darkhorns. They did not have the tall peaks and snow-covered summits, and they rose only to a modest height above the plains, yet their slopes were steep and rugged with an almost impenetrable wilderness of heavy timber and underbrush.
Fortunately, Gabria and Athlone did not have to enter the wildness of the mountainside. The citadel of Krath was located in the northern end of the range, in the foothills not far from Geldring Treld. The citadel was not hard to find, but almost impossible to enter.
The weather had been clear and warm for several days, but that afternoon the wind shifted and began to pile clouds together. The horizon to the north turned iron-gray, its line edged with towering, white-capped clouds. Gabria and Athlone did not need to urge the Hunnuli faster to avoid the storm. The animals sensed the coming rain and picked up their pace. By late afternoon the riders spotted the citadel of Krath on a promontory a few leagues to the south in the tree-clad flanks of the mountains. They altered their route and hurried south ahead of the rain.
Before long, they came to an old stone road that paralleled the mountain peaks. Gabria and the chieftain recognized the stonework immediately as that of the ancient men, the Sons of the Eagle, who had conquered the plains long before the clans had arrived. The men from the west had also built the fortress of Ab-Chakan, which lay only a few days’ journey to the south. The road ran past Ab-Chakan and the Isin River, then vanished somewhere near Dangari Treld in the southern end of the mountains.
For much of its length, the road was very old and concealed beneath a net of grass and shrubs, but it was clear and easy to follow in the rough foothills. Gratefully the Hunnuli took to the road and hurried on.
Gradually they drew closer to the citadel. The horses came to a stop at the foot of the mass of rock upon which it rested, and Gabria and Athlone looked up in dread at the black towers. The two riders could not help but shudder. Neither of them had ever been there before, for the clanspeople avoided the stronghold like a plague camp. Few men who dared enter the confines of the citadel survived to tell of the adventure.
The citadel sat on top of a rocky promontory overlooking a wooded valley. A trail forked off the main road and wound up the precipitous slope to the only visible entrance into the closely guarded stronghold. As far as the travelers could see, the citadel consisted of a massive central keep topped by needle-sharp towers of black granite and surrounded by a high, crenellated wall of the same dark stone. The whole edifice crouched like a brooding, malevolent beast over the road and cast its shadow into the valley below;
The riders stared up at the citadel silhouetted against the lowering clouds until the colt grew restive. The wind suddenly swooped out of the north, whipping the trees and snapping at the riders’ gold cloaks. The sun disappeared behind the heavy gray clouds.
The Hunnuli started up the trail at a trot. As they made their way along the winding path, Gabria looked closer at the towering citadel and realized it was not as finished as it appeared from a distance. Part of the keep was still under construction and scaffolding surrounded several towers. She remembered that Lord Medb had sent an army to destroy the Stronghold the previous summer, when the Oathbreakers had refused to give him their books and manuscripts on magic.
The citadel had fallen, and the high priest and his surviving followers had fled to Ab-Chakan to join Savaric. After Medb’s death, they returned to rebuild their home. Gabria was impressed despite her nervousness. The men of Krath had accomplished a great deal of work in a short period of time.
The sky was completely overcast by the time Athlone and Gabria reached the top of the rise. The mountains before them were lost in gloom, and the two riders could see dark curtains of rain hanging from the clouds to the north and west. Gabria shivered and pulled her cloak tighter.
The Hunnuli trotted up the narrow path to the massive front wall of the citadel. A single, round-arched gateway, barely wide enough for a wagon to pass through, was built into the wall. It was blocked by a thick oaken door and an intricately carved stone portcullis. The Hunnuli stopped; Eurus pawed the ground.
The citadel loomed over them, silent and menacing, but no one challenged the riders from the walls. In fact, the stronghold seemed strangely lifeless. There were no banners or flags on the towers, no smoke from cooking fires, and no lights or torches. There did not seem to be any guards on the battlements, and there was no sound of life within the walls.
All the same, Gabria sensed she and Athlone were being watched. She looked up at the high walls. “They know we’re here,” she said.
“What are we supposed to do, knock?” Athlone made a sound of irritation deep in his throat and slid off Eurus. He found a chunk of rock and strode to the gate. “Seth!” he bellowed, banging the rock on the portcullis. The noise rang around them, but nothing stirred behind the gates or on the walls. A few drops of rain spattered in the dust.
After shouldering the sturdy door, Athlone shook his head and returned to Gabria’s side. “Those doors have the same type of arcane wards as Ab-Chakan—you know, those small inscribed tiles. We couldn’t batter them down if we had one hundred men.” He shrugged and added facetiously, “Maybe they’re not answering because they’re hiding from the rain.”
Gabria jerked her head angrily. “Seth!” she shouted at the walls. “The sorceress seeks your help.”
Still there was no response from the citadel, and the rain began to fall heavily. Gabria’s expression grew angry. She knew that the Oathbreakers were there and that they were aware of her presence, but she had no time to waste on playing their games. She leaned over Nara’s shoulder and said to the chieftain, “They’re testing me. If we want in, we shall have to invite ourselves.”
Athlone cast one last look at the walls and nodded. Only the gods knew how the Oathbreakers would react to two outsiders breaching their door, but if the cultists would not answer, there was no other real alternative. As an afterthought, he removed his weapons and put them in the meager shelter of the wall. No need to seem too antagonistic.
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 portcullis. 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 small 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.