Bones of the Dragon (18 page)

The men in the second line hurled their spears at the enemy and then waited for the chance to rush out from behind the shields, wielding their axes, hacking at legs, chopping off arms, and cleaving open skulls.

The veterans in the second rank were also there in order to “encourage” those in the front who might suddenly lose their nerve. The veterans behind made sure those in front of them did not break and run, but kept on fighting. Some men had been known to do their “persuading” by jabbing reluctant warriors in the backs with their spears.

Norgaard, Chief of the Clan, stood on a rise some distance behind the shield-wall, surrounded by his bodyguards. The goal of the battle for both sides was simple: Capture or slay the Chief.

The Bone Priestess usually stood with the Chief, whose guards protected both of them. Treia had not yet arrived, and the Torgun were starting to wonder nervously if something was amiss.

As the Torgun warriors were forming their shield-wall on the hillside, they jested with each other, making the nervous jokes of men trying to bolster their own courage and show their comrades they were not afraid. The veterans recalled deeds of bravery from previous battles. The green youngsters vowed in their trembling hearts that they would find such glory for themselves this day.

The warriors good-naturedly jostled and shoved each other in an effort to find the best place. Skylan walked up and down in front of them, haranguing the young warriors, yelling at them to keep their shields up and not let them drop down around their knees. He was facing his men, had his back to the sea. All laughter and jesting suddenly ceased. Skylan turned to see what was the cause.

The ogre army had arrived.

The Torgun had not realized quite how many ogres there were. As more and more ogres came straggling up from the sea, some of the appalled Torgun thought the entire ogre nation had come to do battle.

Skylan was considerably daunted by the sight of nearly two hundred ogres forming a shield-wall. The ogres in the front rank were enormous. Their shields alone were as big as a Torgun man, and they were armed with war
hammers, battle axes, and swords. Those in the second rank were even larger than those in front. Each ogre held fistfuls of spears. The line bristled like a quill-pig. The ogre shield-wall spread out along the ridgeline, extending far beyond the smaller Torgun shield-wall. Skylan saw the godlords’ plan of attack, and his heart sank. The ogres would charge forward in a sweeping arc, like a crescent moon, outflanking Skylan’s men, hitting them from the front and the sides at the same time.

The only thing that would save them was the Dragon Kahg.

“Where is that damn Bone Priestess?” Skylan shouted angrily, turning away from the sickening sight. “Why isn’t she here?”

He was immediately annoyed at himself for giving vent to his feelings. Several of the young warriors were pale with fear, and even some of the veterans were looking nervous.

Skylan glanced at the ogre lines and said loudly, “Yes, they are big brutes. That only makes them a better target! Even you, Alfric, cannot miss hitting one of them!”

That drew a laugh. Alfric had lost an eye in battle, and he was notorious for bumping into trees and posts. A close friend of Norgaard, Alfric was proud to stand as one of the Chief’s bodyguards. The truth was that no one wanted him in the shield-wall, where his wild swings with his battle axe made him more dangerous to friend than to foe.

The ogres were taking their time. The godlords charged into the ranks, ranting and raving, bullying and shoving, and sometimes even kicking their warriors until they had shuffled into proper position.

This is part of their strategy, Skylan realized dourly. The longer the bastards take to form their shield-wall, the more time my men have to think about dying.

His warriors needed something to give them hope, and Skylan whispered his thanks to Torval when the call rang out that the Bone Priestess had arrived.

The warriors craned their heads to see her. Skylan went to meet Treia himself. He smiled at Garn and frowned at Aylaen, who was standing beside her sister.

“You should go home,” Skylan said.

“And you should go soak your head in the slop bucket,” Aylaen returned.

Skylan could not help but smile. He was secretly proud of her courage and her loyalty to her sister. She must have been terrified, but she did not show it.

Treia carried with her the spiritbone Skylan had risked his life to obtain. She lifted it into the air, and the warriors, taking heart, cheered loudly. Skylan cast a triumphant glance at the ogres, who had no idea what was coming.

Skylan ordered the two women to take up positions alongside Norgaard,
well behind the shield-wall, out of range of enemy spears yet still within sight of the enemy. Being in such close proximity to the battle was dangerous, but necessary. The warriors needed to see the Bone Priestess, needed to know that their Dragon Goddess, Vindrash, was with them.

Treia stood staring at the ogres or what she could see of them with her weak eyes, which was a large, dark, homogeneous mass—a gigantic worm undulating on the green grass. Her face was coldly pale, expressionless. She made no response when Skylan spoke to her. He had no idea what she was thinking or even if she was thinking. She might have been a doll carved out of bone.

Aylaen’s eyes widened at the sight of the ogres, and she gave a little gasp.

“There are so many! We are too close,” she said, rounding on Skylan. “My sister will not be safe!”

“Of course she will,” said Skylan dismissively. “My father is here and his bodyguards.” He shrugged. “Besides, the Bone Priestess is under the protection of Vindrash. The goddess will protect her servant.”

Aylaen went white at the lips and glanced fearfully at Garn, who looked troubled.

“What is it?” Skylan demanded, glancing from one to the other. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Treia, casting a chill glance at her sister. “Nothing at all.”

Relieved, Skylan turned to look back at the ogre lines. The godlords were finally taking up their positions, each going to stand with his bodyguards behind the shield-wall. Skylan focused on the godlord who had been sporting the Vektan Torque. He knew him by his tiger-skin cape. It was hard to see him. Aylis rose from the east, shedding her morning light on the bay, which meant Skylan was staring directly into the sunlight. Even so, he could not see the torque, and he gnashed his teeth in bitter disappointment. He had been counting on decapitating the godlord and snatching the torque from his bloody neck. It had not occurred to him until now that the whoreson might have stowed it away for safekeeping during battle.

“I will pry their ships apart board by board until I find it,” Skylan vowed, and he put his hand to the small silver axe.

He ran his gaze over his men and was proud to see them standing shoulder to shoulder, shield to shield, straining forward, yelling insults at the enemy. He was about to tell Treia it was time, when he saw the shaman, preening his black feathers, go striding up to stand beside the godlord. The shaman held the feathered gourd in his hand and he stood at his ease, gazing about with interest, a cunning look on the childlike face. Norgaard had said the shamans did not use their dark magicks in battle. Skylan wondered if that was true. He was amused to see the godlord move away from the shaman, leaving him to stand alone.

Skylan made a mental note to tell his spear-thrower to take special aim at the shaman, and then he turned to Treia.

“It is time to summon the dragon.”

“I need seawater,” said Treia composedly. “Kahg is a water dragon. I need seawater to summon him.”

Skylan gaped at her and extended his arm in a sweeping gesture. “Two hundred ogres stand between us and the sea!”

Treia blinked at him. “No one told me where we would be fighting. I assumed we would be by the sea.”

“Skoval’s balls!” Skylan swore furiously.

“Don’t yell at her, Skylan!” Aylaen cried. “She’s nervous and frightened. This is her first battle.”

“And probably her last,” Skylan returned grimly. “The last for all of us unless she can summon Kahg!”

“Sister,” said Aylaen suddenly, “can’t you use earth—?”

Treia flashed her a furious glance, and Aylaen stammered and fell silent.

“Your sister’s suggestion is a good one, Priestess,” said Norgaard, limping over to join the conversation. “You can use earth to form the dragon. I’ve seen it done. Possibly, this being your first battle, you did not think of that.”

Treia’s lips pressed together tightly. Her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps.”

“I will take the Dragon Kahg in any form, Priestess,” Skylan said through gritted teeth. “I don’t care if he’s made from mother’s milk! Just summon the dragon, and be quick about it! The sun is risen.”

Sunrise was the traditional time for the Vindras to commence battle. No one fought at night. The warriors wanted Torval to be witness to their courage and bravery.

“I have to go—,” Skylan said.

“I’m coming with you,” said Garn.

Skylan stopped him. “No, my brother. You stay here to guard Treia and Aylaen. If the ogres break through, you must help them escape.”

Garn frowned. “Let one of Norgaard’s men do that. I will take my place with you in the shield-wall as always.”

Skylan shook his head. “The bodyguards’ duty is to my father.”

He lowered his voice, drew Garn to one side. “You are the only man I trust with Aylaen’s life, my brother. Promise me. Swear by Torval, you will keep her safe. And her sister,” he added as an afterthought.

Skylan knew he was asking his friend to make a sacrifice. If the ogres broke through the lines, Garn would have to flee with the women. He would not be there to avenge his friends. He would not have the honor of dying in battle.

“I swear,” Garn said at last.

Skylan gripped his friend by the arm, then went to take his place in the shield-wall, in the second row with the veteran warriors. He would gain glory this day, smashing headlong into the enemy’s ranks, driving through to do single combat with the godlord who had taken the sacred torque.

“Hand me a spear,” said Skylan. Several men thrust their spears forward. He clasped one, hefted it.

“For Torval!” he roared, and he hurled the spear at the ogre lines, throwing it as far as he could. The spear sailed over the heads of the ogres in an arc, thudding into the ground behind them. Thus he dedicated his enemy to the god.

“For Torval!” the Torgun warriors cried.

The ogres responded, hurling their spears and chanting something that sounded like, “Raja Raj, Raja Raj!”

The ogres launched what seemed a veritable forest of spears.

Skylan drew his sword. The warriors in the front ranks lifted their shields and braced themselves for the onslaught. Some landed short. Some flew long. Some found their targets. Near Skylan, a warrior named Gregor screamed horribly. He lay on the ground, twisting about on a spear that had gone through his belly and pinned him, like a pig on a spit. Skylan turned away. No one could do anything for Gregor, not even take time to end his suffering with a merciful sword thrust. The fallen had to take care of themselves. No man dared break the shield-wall.

“Hold firm!” Skylan cried, seeing some of the excited young warriors starting to lurch forward. “Make them come to us!”

Under most circumstances, his army would have rushed at the enemy. The ogres would have rushed at them, both armies meeting with a bone-crushing crash in the middle. Garn had suggested this alternative strategy during the Council meeting. The Vindrasi would utilize the dip in the ground, forcing the ogres to run across the expanse and then fight uphill.

“Won’t they just wait for us to charge them?” Skylan had argued.

“The ogres are arrogant, overconfident,” Garn had replied. “They will throw everything at us at once without thinking, counting on ending the battle swiftly.”

“The brutes are massive, but they have no stamina,” Norgaard had added. “They wear heavy armor and carry heavy weapons, and they count on smashing an enemy into the ground with a single blow. If they fail to do this, if they are forced to keep fighting, they soon grow tired and lose heart. The longer we can make the battle last, the more we stand a chance of winning.”

Skylan had reluctantly agreed to Garn’s plan, keeping his doubts to himself. He could always order the shield-wall to advance, which is what he expected to do.

Erdmun, who stood in front of Skylan, lifted his shield to block a spear. It bounced off and fell to the ground. Sigurd plucked a thrown spear out of midair and hurled it back at the enemy. Sigurd was an expert with spears. He could throw two at once, one in each hand. He fought with a wide grin on his face; the only time anyone ever saw the dour man smile was during battle.

“Where’s Kahg?” Erdmun demanded suddenly, twisting around to look. “Where’s the dragon?”

His brother, Bjorn, stood at his side. This was Erdmun’s first time in the shield-wall, and Skylan had put him in the front row. Bjorn, who had fought in shield-walls before, insisted on standing next to his brother.

As to the dragon, that was a good question. Skylan looked back to see Treia on her knees on the ground, using a knife to dig up the dirt. Aylaen stood protectively beside her sister, staring at the ogre lines. Skylan saw a spear land on the ground near her. She did not flinch, barely glanced at it. She merely shifted her stance slightly, taking a firmer grip on her axe. Catching Skylan’s eye, she smiled encouragement. Skylan loved her so much, his heart ached with his loving.

Treia began daubing the spiritbone with soil.

“The Dragon Kahg will help us,” Skylan said confidently.

Treia was a Bone Priestess. She knew her business. He was a warrior, and fighting was his business.

The ogre godlords waited for the Torgun to run toward them. When that did not happen, the ogre warriors—hot, sweaty in their heavy armor—grew angry and impatient. Several of their number had been felled by Torgun spears. Their shaman had been forced to hike up his black feathered robe and scramble for his life.

The Torgun began hurling insults, taunting them. The ogres could stomach only so much. A smattering of humans stood between them and gold, cattle, and women. An ogre broke out of the shield-wall and went lumbering across the grassy expanse. The godlords shouted and raged, but soon the entire ogre army was on the move. Brandishing axes, swords, and hammers, the ogres charged at a ground-thudding run.