The mare stretched her neck, her eyes half-closed, her ears flopping. If she had been a cat, Sayyed mused, she would be purring.
Oh, that is wonderful, a light feminine voice sighed in his mind.
Sayyed grinned. He had suspected as much. “How about here?” He moved his fingers to the end of her inane, where the ridge of her withers rose under her silvery coat.
Yes, came the voice again. The mare leaned into him. / like that.
“So why didn’t Helmar tell me you were Hunnuli?” Sayyed asked casually, still scratching her back.
The white mare stilled, then gave a snort of amused annoyance. Well, it is too late now to play dumb. Do you know bow bard it has been to keep quiet around you?
“Why did you?”
Helmar told us all not to talk to you. Not until she was sure.
“Is she so afraid of me?”
Not of you. Of the clans.
“Why?”
I will save that, at least, for her to explain.
“All right.” Sayyed chuckled. “But if you are Hunnuli, why are all of you white?”
The horses turned their heads and whickered a greeting to someone else. Helmar walked out of the darkness. She wore only a light, loose-fitting tunic that rippled around her thighs in the soft breeze. She leaned over the mare’s back, her expression unreadable in the night.
“They’re not true whites, Sayyed. Only their hair is white. Our ancestors took the color of the lightning and covered over the black. If you look under their hair, their skin is still dark as night.” She patted the mare and stallion and softly chuckled her husky laugh. “Marron, my beauty, you stayed quiet longer than I thought you would.”
He was scratching my back, the mare offered as an apology.
“Is the lightning still there?” Sayyed asked, fascinated.
“Yes, if you look closely enough.” Helmar pushed in by Sayyed, parted the hairs on Matron’s right shoulder, and said, “There, you can just see the outline.”
The sorcerer eased close to her and peered at the place she indicated. Faintly in the darkness he saw the pale line of white skin beside black. In the days that followed, Sayyed never could decide if what happened next was deliberate or accidental—and Afer would never tell him. Just as he straightened, Afer and Marron shifted closer together, knocking into Sayyed and throwing him off balance. He took a step to catch himself and banged into Helmar. Her strong arms went around him to steady him. His wounded arm hit her shoulder, and by the time the pain ebbed and he realized what had happened, they were standing wrapped in a tight embrace.
Neither moved. They were so similar in height, their hearts beat against one another, and their eyes stared at each other’s from only a breath away. They hesitated, both surprised by the sudden intimacy of their position. Helmar’s hands trembled against Sayyed’s back, and Sayyed felt his skin grow hot. In a flash of unspoken consent, their lips met, and they kissed so long and deep it left them gasping.
Marron playfully reached over and nipped Afer. The stallion stamped a hoof, his neck arched, and he nipped her back. In a flash of phantom white, the mare leaped away, her tail held high like a flag. Afer galloped after her, and the two people were left alone in the meadow. The velvet night closed softly about them.
They stood, neither wanting to say a word, neither needing to. Sayyed’s hands untied the strip of leather that bound Helmar’s thick braid and gently worked her hair loose until it floated in a waving mass down her shoulders and back. He inhaled her scent, a warm blend of leather, horses, sun, wind, and a special fragrance all her own. He buried his face in her hair while her arms pulled his hard body against hers.
They kissed again, and all their questions and worries were cast to the winds until there was nothing left to think about but the warm grass and the wonder of a love unlooked for that had found them both.
Beyond the darkened meadow at the edge of the Clannad camp, a slim figure and a shaggy shadow slipped out of the healer’s tent and worked their way around the perimeter guards. Silent and unseen, they crept over the hill and disappeared toward the valley of Cangora. By dawn they were sitting at the city gates patiently begging and waiting for the day to begin.
15
Afer and Marron came back just before sunrise and woke the lovers in time to return to camp. The four of I hem walked back together, feeling very pleased with each other. Helmar and Sayyed stopped near the tents, not willing yet to end their time together. This was dawn of the first day of Janas. There was no more time to save the Shar-Ja or Kelene and Gabria. They had to attack Cangora today, with or without the clans, and the gods only knew how the day would end. Arms entwined, they looked to the east, where a pale gold band of light illuminated the flat horizon.
They were so engrossed by the beauty of the coming day, they did not see a dark shape come swooping out of the west. An eerie, shattering cry broke over the predawn’s hush, and suddenly the valley was filled with the screams of terrified horses. The two camps awoke to stunned life. Guards came running; men tumbled out of their tents.
Sayyed and Helmar whirled in time to see a huge creature dive from the sky, its wings folded, its talons extended. Howling, it dove among the Turic horses, and with a sweep of its big paw broke the necks of two animals. The rest fled in a maddened stampede away from the horrendous beast. They charged in a panicked mass up the valley and, blinded by their own fear, plowed directly through the Kirmaz-Ja’s camp. The thundering of hooves and the screams and shouts of men filled the valley.
The gryphon growled with satisfaction. Hooking a dead horse in her claws, she flew heavily away, back toward Cangora and the man who had summoned her.
The valley was left in chaos. Through the dust kicked up by the stampeding herd, Sayyed and Helmar could barely make out the shambles of the Turic camp. The hazy forms of men ran through the pale light. Others lay motionless on the ground.
Helmar took one long look and became a chief again. She quickly squeezed Sayyed’s hand and ran into their camp, shouting for Rapinor and her warriors. Snapping orders, she quickly organized them into parties and led them across to the Turic camp.
Sayyed watched her go. She was so different from his quiet Tam, and yet the two women shared the same strength of character, the same ability to coolly handle a crisis. He thought for just a moment about their night and the box in his heart he had opened. The contents had turned out to be something he would treasure for as long as he had left to live. He put his hand on Afer’s shoulder. “Go,” he commanded. “Gather the Hunnuli and round up those horses. Zukhara started the hostilities this morning, but we are going to finish them.”
Afer and Marron neighed their agreement and galloped away to do his bidding. Hajira found him then, and the two brothers hurried to the Turic camp to do what they could to help. In the middle of the wreckage stood the Kirmaz-Ja, unharmed and punctuating his shouted orders with fierce gestures. Mohadan was in a lowering rage that turned his dark eyes to black fire and his face to a mask of insulted fury.
“He thinks to stop us,” the Turic snarled to Sayyed and Hajira, “by driving off our horses and occupying us with disaster. But I will attack Cangora today if I have to crawl there on my hands and knees!”