Bones of the Dragon (53 page)

“Old men like my father serve me by staying behind to guard the village,” said Skylan angrily, ignoring the accusation that he’d lied. He could deny it, probably should deny it, but the truth was he
had
been lying and Garn knew it, so why go to all the bother? “Young, strong men stand by my side in the shield-wall! Or else they are cowards!”

Garn blanched at this, but by the expression on his face, he did not mean to back down.

“My friend,” Skylan said, softening, “you must go. Not for me. For yourself. People will say you are afraid.”

“Let them say what they want,” Garn replied, but Skylan could see he was troubled.

“And there is another consideration,” Skylan continued, seeing he’d found a chink in Garn’s armor. “I speak frankly because you are my brother and because I want to help you. You are an orphan, Garn. You have lived for years on my father’s charity. Norgaard loves you like a son. I love you like a brother. But you have nothing—no silver, no property, no cattle. Someday you will want to marry, and no father would seriously consider allowing such a worthless bastard as yourself to wed his daughter.”

Skylan tempered his words with a grin, but Garn had gone very pale.

“Go on this voyage with me, Garn,” Skylan said. “Your fortune will be made! The ogres’ lands are rich, my friend! We will sail home with our ships stuffed with gold and silver and gems. You will be a wealthy man. Fathers will be parading their daughters naked before you. As for you not believing in this war, I don’t believe it. You know that we must recover the sacred Vektan Torque. We cannot leave it in the hands of the ogres. You agree that is true, right?”

“Yes,” said Garn.

Skylan had a sudden flash of insight. “There is some other reason you want to stay behind, something you’re not telling me.”

Garn swallowed and licked his lips and said huskily, “I tried to keep this from you—”

“It’s my father!” Skylan interrupted. “Now I understand. You want to stay behind to help Norgaard.”

Garn stared at him dumbly, unable to speak.

Skylan shook his head. “It won’t do, my friend. My father would be furious with both of us if he suspected. He is a proud man. You know that.”

“I had not thought of it that way,” Garn admitted, and he sighed, “You are right.”

“Therefore you will come,” said Skylan. “You will stand by my side in the shield-wall. And you will earn so many silver bracelets for brave deeds that you will not be able to lift your arm.”

“I will come,” said Garn with a wan smile. “I will stand by your side in the shield-wall.”

The two men embraced as brothers.

“My friend,” said Skylan softly, “I want you to know something. I did try to save Draya’s life. I fought to save her! I couldn’t reach her in time. They hit me and kept hitting me. Her blood . . .” He found it hard to go on. Drawing a shaking breath, he said fervently, “If I could have saved her by giving up my life, I would have done so, Garn. I swear to Torval!”

Skylan clasped his amulet convulsively. “I swear!”

“I believe you, Skylan,” said Garn.

“Good,” said Skylan, embarrassed by his outburst. He wiped his hand over his eyes and nose and mouth and wished he’d kept quiet. “Good. Now go talk to Aylaen for me.”

“Yes,” said Garn with a long, heavy sigh. “I must go talk to Aylaen.”

T
he Kai Moot lasted for several days. The Bone Priestesses and their acolytes locked themselves in the Great Hall of the Gods to discuss the many problems facing the Vindrasi nation. The proceedings were secret; the Bone Priestesses were forbidden to reveal the nature of the deliberations to anyone. Yet wives talked to husbands, sweethearts whispered to lovers, and almost every person in the Heudjun clan found some excuse to pass the Hall, hoping to hear something.

As was traditional, Skylan ordered warriors to stand guard at the door to stop those who might seek either to harm the Priestesses or unduly exert influence on them. The placing of the guards originally came about as a result of a disastrous incident at a Kai Moot during the time of the great Chief of Chiefs Grimwald Liefson. A clan known as the Laerad had been angered at the Chief’s harsh punishment leveled against them for stealing cattle. In retaliation, they raided the Kai Moot and carried off the Kai Priestess, Grimwald’s wife. The Laerad held her for ransom, demanding that the punishment be lifted.

Grimwald was furious at the abduction of his wife. He refused to negotiate and went to war against the Laerad. The two clans formed shield-walls. Grimwald was about to launch an attack when he saw, to his horror, that the Laerad had placed his wife in the front ranks. Grimwald was in agony. If he attacked, his wife would be the first one to die. If he retreated, the Laerad Clan would claim victory, and he would be seen as weak. Other Clan Chiefs would challenge his authority. No one would pay heed to his judgments.

The Kai Priestess knew her husband faced this terrible choice. She made the decision for him. She grabbed a sword from the warrior standing next to her and thrust the weapon into her own belly. She died on the battlefield as her husband watched in dismay.

Vowing to Torval that the Laerad Clan would pay for his beloved wife’s death, Grimwald and his warriors attacked with such ferocity that the Laerad were utterly destroyed. Since that time, all Chiefs have placed guards at the doors of the Kai Moot.

The warriors Skylan chose were men of his own clan, among them Bjorn and his brother Erdmun. He chose these men, he said, to honor the Kai. The fact that the warriors stood with their backs against the door, which put them in a position to eavesdrop on the meeting, also played some part in his thinking, as it had in the thinking of every Chief of Chiefs before him.

Once they entered the Hall, the Priestesses were forbidden to leave until their business was concluded. This meant that they had to eat and sleep in the Great Hall, sometimes for days.

Led by Fria, the older women sought to conduct the Kai Moot in an atmosphere of calm. This proved impossible. Skylan learned from Bjorn that the Kai were in turmoil, finding it hard to cope with the series of disasters that had come tumbling down on their heads like boulders in a landslide: The loss of the sacred torque to the ogres. The loss of Desiria, the Goddess of Life, and the subsequent inability of the Priestesses to heal the sick and injured. The fury of the Sun Goddess and the terrible drought that was withering the crops. The tragic death of Draya, who had been loved and revered. The curse laid upon the Dragon Isles.

The grief-stricken Fria, mourning the loss of her dearest friend, proved unequal to the task of trying to quell the anger and assuage the mounting fears. Rumors flew. Some Priestesses said they had heard that all the gods were dead and that the Vindrasi were now alone and abandoned in the universe. Others countered angrily that this was not true, that they had been in communication with the gods and that they were still able to heal in the name of the goddess. Few believed them. The women shouted and screamed at each other. Fria tried to restore order, but no one paid any attention.

In this time of crisis, it was Treia who stepped forward and took charge. Her cold, dispassionate voice fell on them like a bucket of chill water thrown onto a pack of snapping bitches. The conflict ended abruptly, though the dogs continued to watch each other warily and occasionally showed their teeth.

Fria wanted those Priestesses who claimed to have healing powers to be put to a test. Treia rightly pointed out that such a test would serve nothing except to further fan the flames of discord. She suggested that the Kai leave the past to the past and deal with the dire events of the present. The Kai should select a new Kai Priestess.

Bjorn, standing guard at the door, was able to overhear what was said. He handed over his duties to his brother and went to report to Skylan in the Chief’s dwelling in the city of Vindraholm. Skylan had not intended to return there until after the Kai Moot, but Aylaen had amazed him by coming to him, telling him meekly that she had changed her mind. She would attend the Kai Moot with Treia, as he wanted.

Skylan was overjoyed and congratulated Garn on persuading her. Garn swore he’d had nothing to do with it.

Garn was telling the truth. Aylaen had flown into a rage when he’d told her he was going to go with Skylan to war. She had called him a coward for not standing up to Skylan, and then she had run off and refused to see him.
Garn had no idea why she should suddenly change her mind about attending the Kai Moot, but he didn’t like it. He had traveled to Vindraholm with Skylan, hoping to be able to talk with her, but Aylaen had gone out of her way to avoid him, and now she was shut up inside the Great Hall of the Gods.

Bjorn found Skylan and Garn together, sharing ale and making preparations for war. Wulfe was with them, sitting cross-legged on the floor near the door, which had been propped open to catch the late afternoon breeze. The boy was playing with the dragonbones from Skylan’s game, stacking them up, one on top of the other, to see how high they would go before falling. He always laughed heartily whenever the bones tumbled down in a heap and went bounding about the floor.

Skylan didn’t like to see Wulfe playing with the dragonbones. The sight reminded Skylan uncomfortably of the draugr, who continued to force him to play. After his talk with Owl Mother, Skylan had questioned the draugr, trying to find out what she wanted to tell him. All to no avail. The draugr always started every game by rolling five dragonbones. She almost always ended by claiming all his pieces.

Bjorn had to step over the tower Wulfe was building as he entered the door. “I have news,” he said.

Skylan and Garn both stopped to listen. Judging by Bjorn’s air of importance, the news was momentous. Skylan motioned Bjorn to sit. Garn handed him a foaming drinking horn.

Bjorn drank thirstily. Standing guard in the afternoon sunshine was hot work. He was about to launch into his tale, when Skylan asked him the question of the moment.

“Have they chosen the Kai Priestess?”

Bjorn shook his head, and Skylan breathed a sigh of relief. Bjorn went on to explain that since Draya had not named a successor, the Kai had to put up candidates. After much arguing, the Kai had at last settled on two: Fria, who had been Draya’s best friend, and Treia, who had amazed everyone by putting herself forward.

Skylan alone was not surprised. He had guessed Treia was angling for the leadership, though he still could not understand why.

“Treia loathes me,” said Skylan. “Why would she want to be my wife?”

“She doesn’t,” Wulfe called out.

The three young men turned to stare at him. Though Wulfe was almost always present whenever they were together, he had never before joined in their conversation. Bjorn jokingly termed the boy Skylan’s pup, claiming that Wulfe was always to be found curled up at his master’s feet.

“I suppose the naiad told you all about it,” Skylan said with a wink at his friends.

Wulfe carefully placed a fourth dragonbone onto his little tower. “If Treia is named Kai Priestess, your cousin, Raegar, will challenge you to something called a . . . a . . .” He shrugged. “I forget.”

“That’s nonsense,” said Bjorn, laughing, as did the others at the ridiculous notion. “Raegar doesn’t have any reason to call for a Vutmana. No one would accept his right to issue such a challenge.”

Skylan joined in the laughter, but his mirth was hollow. Raegar did have a reason to challenge Skylan. Raegar knew the truth about Draya’s death.

“Still, it’s a clever scheme, if you think about it,” Bjorn said when the laughter had died down. “If Treia becomes Kai Priestess, she can determine the winner of the Vutmana.”

“Torval determines the winner,” Skylan said.

“That’s true, of course.” Bjorn gave a sly grin. “Yet the Kai Priestess can see to it that the god votes her way.”

“I don’t think you mean that, my friend,” said Garn quietly.

Bjorn suddenly realized what he’d been saying. He looked stricken.

“Skylan, he’s right. I didn’t mean—,” he protested.

“I know you didn’t,” Skylan said tersely, and he changed the subject. “What did the Kai decide? Is Treia to be Kai Priestess?”

Bjorn shook his head. “The Kai are split. Some want Fria to be Kai Priestess. Some want Treia. And there are some who don’t want either of them.”

“So what happens now?” Skylan asked.

“The Kai wait for a sign from the gods.”

“What is the sign?”

Bjorn shook his head. “No one knows. With Draya, the sign was a comet streaking across the sky. The Kai before Draya, the sign came when Torval swallowed the moon.”

“When will the sign be given?”

“Whenever the gods see fit to give it, I guess. Then, once they have the sign, the Kai must meet again to determine if it really was a sign and what it portends.”

Skylan began to breathe easier. Nothing was going to happen immediately.

“In the meantime, Fria will stay in Vindraholm to minister to the people and Treia will sail with us,” Bjorn stated.

Skylan thought of living in the close quarters on board ship with Treia, her squinting eyes always watching him, and he gave an inward groan. Raegar would be on board the ship, as well. Ah, well, as Norgaard always said, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Wulfe picked up the dragonbones and put them away and then went off to curl up in a corner to take a nap. Skylan poured another round of ale. He was bringing the drinking horn to his lips when he realized that Bjorn looked uneasy. He held the horn in his hand, his ale untasted.

“What’s the matter?” Skylan asked. “Why aren’t you drinking?”

“Something else happened in the Kai Moot,” said Bjorn. He didn’t look at Skylan as he spoke. “It’s about Aylaen.”

“I know already,” said Skylan. “She asked to be made a Bone Priestess—”

“You need to hear me out, Skylan,” said Bjorn. “The Kai refused. They said she was too old. She would have to be an acolyte, and that would take years and—”

“They can’t do that!” Skylan said, leaping to his feet. “I’ll force them—”