Bones of the Dragon

by Margaret Weis

  “No, no, of course not,” Raegar assured him. “I swear by Torval her life will be as sacred to me as my own. My partners and I will meet you on Apensia. While you are off raiding, I will sneak aboard the dragonship and carry off Draya. We will take her into exile in Djekar. That is the city where I live in Oran. She will not be able to hurt anyone ever again.”

  “If she is, as you say, a witch,” Skylan said after a moment’s thought, “she might be able to work her foul magicks and escape.”

  Raegar shook his head. “I will tell her that if she returns, you will expose her crimes. She can either live in exile or die in Vindraholm.”

  Skylan stared out moodily to sea. “You are undertaking a lot on my account. . . .”

  “We are cousins!” said Raegar, grinning broadly.

  “I can understand that, but your partners are not my cousins.” Skylan cast Raegar a sharp glance. “What do they get out of this?”

  “As I said, the settlement on Apensia is a fat one. You and I will divide the spoils between our men. Now, are we agreed?”

  Skylan mulled it over. The plan was a good one. He could find no fault. He would rid himself of Draya without anyone having the least suspicion that he was involved. No one would think to question her abduction. Bone Priestesses were accustomed to facing such danger when the dragonships went raiding.

  Still Skylan hesitated. A starving man would eat whatever rancid meat he found, and a thirsty man would drink swamp water. Skylan knew that if he looked at this plan too closely, he would see things crawling in it.

  “Draya is a murderess, Cousin,” Raegar reminded him. “She is accursed in the eyes of men and gods. If you told the people she poisoned her husband, she would be hanged.” Raegar’s voice softened. “Think of Draya, Skylan, if you have no thought for yourself. You are arranging for her to live a comfortable life in exile. You are being far more merciful to her than she deserves. As Chief of Chiefs, you have a right to judge her and to pass sentence on her.”

  “What you say is true,” Skylan conceded.

  “Then we are agreed?”

  “We are,” said Skylan, and he gave his cousin his hand. The two shook on it, sealing the deal.

  Yet, even as Skylan took his cousin’s hand, the thought came to him that this was yet another secret he could not tell Garn, for Skylan knew as sure as the Norn spun a man’s life thread that his friend would be appalled at the very idea.

  The two men finalized their plans. Raegar gave Skylan directions on how to find the settlement. They estimated the length of time required for Skylan to return to Vindraholm and prepare for the voyage to the Dragon Isles and calculated that the Venjekar would arrive on Apensia sometime during the next fullness of the moon. Raegar said this would suit him and his partners. They would be waiting for Skylan at Apensia. He ended by cautioning Skylan that no one must suspect anything was amiss. He hinted that if Skylan could bring himself to make love to his wife, so much the better.

  “After all, in the dark, all cats are black,” Raegar added, chuckling.

  Skylan did not consider this a laughing matter. He was already feeling a little guilty over having broken his vow to Aylaen by making love to the slave girl last night. He couldn’t bear the thought of bedding Draya. He said nothing, however, for fear Raegar would start to question his manhood.

  “I must tell people how I came by such a fine sword,” Skylan said.

  “Say it was a gift from Torval,” Raegar suggested. “In a way, it is. The god brought us together by forcing you to change your route.”

  That was true as far as it went. There might be some question as to which god—Torval or Hevis—had dropped Skylan into his cousin’s arms. Skylan didn’t like to think about that, however.

  “And now,” said Raegar, “I have to leave to meet my partners.”

  “You must come visit us,” said Skylan, embracing his cousin, and he added impulsively, “Why don’t you come back with me now? My father is not in good health. I fear he will soon go to join Torval. You should see him before he dies, see your other kinsmen—”

  “I will come, I promise. But it would never do for Draya to know I am alive, would it?”

  “No, I suppose not,” Skylan said.

  “You must not tell her you have seen me,” Raegar cautioned, eyeing him. “You must tell no one, not even your father, lest word get back to her.”

  Skylan agreed.

  “Thank you for everything, Cousin,” Skylan said in parting. “Especially for Blood Dancer.”

  “May she bring you honor and glory, Cousin,” said Raegar heartily.

  The two parted, Raegar going to his boats and Skylan to his horse. He had dawdled on his way to Hammerfall, hoping to put off going back for as long as possible.

  He now had to make up for lost time.

  Draya was pleased and astonished to return to the longhouse one evening to find Skylan’s shield hanging on the wall. She took this as a happy sign. He had thought things over, and all would be well between them. She could make plans for their honeymoon journey to the Dragon Isles.

  She prepared food for him and waited eagerly for him to return. He arrived home at the supper hour. His greeting to her was cool and thus not propitious, but at least he was home. He ate his meal with a good appetite. After he was finished, he sat down and began to clean and polish a sword.

  “That is new, lord, isn’t it?” she asked, gazing down at the weapon and marveling. “Where did you get it?” She bent near to examine it. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  “It was a gift,” said Skylan, intent upon his work. “From Torval.”

  Draya drew in an awed breath. “Tell me,” she said, taking a seat beside him. “Tell me of your experience in Hammerfall!”

  “What happened is between myself and the god,” said Skylan. “I may not speak of it.”

  Draya was disappointed, but he was right not to reveal the god’s mysteries. She herself never told anyone about her meetings with Vindrash. Not that there had been anything to tell lately. The goddess remained silent.

  Skylan continued to polish his sword, rubbing the rainbow metal lovingly with a cloth. She watched his hands, strong and capable at their work. She thought of his hands taking hold of her, and she burned with desire. She found it hard to concentrate on what he was saying.

  “I want to leave immediately” were the first words she caught.

  “For the Dragon Isles?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Skylan returned, slightly frowning. “Where else? We will sail on the Torgun dragonship, the Venjekar.”

  “We will send a messenger to your father—,” Draya began.

  “No, I will go myself,” said Skylan, sliding the cloth up and down the shining blade. “I want to talk to my father, make arrangements. That will mean I must leave you again, I fear.”

  “But you have only just returned, lord. Let me send a messenger—”

  “I said I will go myself,” said Skylan. “My father would take it ill otherwise.”

  Draya did not think Norgaard would care. She was certain that this was simply another of Skylan’s excuses to avoid being alone with her, and her heart sank. She tried to smile, however, to make herself as agreeable as possible. She had lost her temper with him once before, and the consequences had been disastrous.

  “Just as you say, lord. You will, of course, want to bring your father and your friends to the Dragon Isles with us. And Treia will come as Bone Priestess—”

  “No!” Skylan said sharply.

  He ceased his work and lifted his gaze to meet hers. His blue eyes glinted in the firelight.

  She stared at him in wonder. He stood up abruptly and slid the sword into its leather sheath. He turned to face her, speaking in gentler tones.

  “I want Heudjun warriors to man the dragonship. And you will serve as Bone Priestess.” He gave a stiff smile. “Now you see why I must explain matters to my father. He might be offended otherwise.”

  “The Heudjun will be ho
nored to be chosen, of course,” said Draya, “but your friends could come, as well.”

  “There might be trouble between the men,” said Skylan. “And nothing must go wrong on this journey.”

  “Very well,” said Draya, though she remained puzzled. “When will you leave?”

  “Tomorrow morning. This must be done without delay. Thank you for supper,” he added politely. “It was delicious. Do not wait up for me.”

  He walked to the door.

  “Husband,” said Draya, “where are you going?”

  “To the stables,” he replied. “Blade was not acting right. I fear he may have colic. I’m going to sit up with him tonight.”

  Draya sighed. Colic in horses was extremely serious and could be fatal. Skylan was right to be concerned, and yet one of the stable boys could sit up with the horse. She bit her tongue, said nothing. Skylan made her a slight bow and then left.

  Draya remained at home, fussing about the dwelling, and then she could stand it no longer. She put on a dark cloak, pulled the hood up over her head, and went out into the night.

  Perhaps the horse was truly ill. If so, she might be able to help. Certain poultices were said to ease colic. She would have to give some excuse to explain her presence. She couldn’t let Skylan know she didn’t trust him. She drew near the stable door, and then she heard laughter, raucous laughter, the laughter of young men handing around the ale pitcher.

  Skylan’s voice rose above the laughter. He was telling some tale about some battle or other. He sounded very drunk.

  Tears filled Draya’s eyes. She listened to him and thought of how greatly she loved him.

  And how greatly she had wronged him.

  CHAPTER

  7

  Guided by the spirit of the Dragon Kahg, the Venjekar bounded over the waves. Skylan leaned on the rail, enjoying the exhilarating ride. He was in good spirits, and he grinned as a wave broke over the keel, completely soaking him. Skylan shook back his wet hair and cast a smiling glance over his shoulder at the young Heudjun warriors, who laughed at the sight of their Chief of Chiefs being drenched. The young men were in an excellent mood, proud of having been chosen to serve as bodyguards, excited to be traveling to the Dragon Isles in company with their Kai Priestess and their Chief of Chiefs.

  Skylan looked back out to sea. He had brought along a guide, a man familiar with the territory, and Skylan could have left the navigation up to him. Skylan liked to know where he was, however, and he had the guide point out to him the various landmarks as they sailed along the coastline.

  Everything had gone well thus far—so well that Skylan began to think Torval had relented and was once again smiling down on him with favor. True, the Torgun warriors had been furious when he had not chosen them to sail with him to the Dragon Isles, but Norgaard had taken Skylan’s part, approving his son’s decision to bring Heudjun warriors as a guard of honor. Tensions still ran high between the clans, and this would help ease them. The real reason Skylan had chosen not to take Torgun warriors was that he would have been forced to take Garn, and Skylan knew he could not be around his friend for any length of time without blurting out all his secrets.

  He found it difficult enough to be around Garn only for the short time he was in Luda. Skylan made certain the two of them were never alone, and he’d left Luda as soon as the Venjekar could be stocked with supplies and ready to sail.

  The only disappointment in his visit to his clan was that he didn’t have a chance to talk privately with Aylaen. She was always with her sister, Treia. Whenever Skylan was with the sisters, he would hint more than once that Treia might want to take a walk. Treia would have happily complied, for she made her dislike of Skylan obvious. But whenever Treia started to leave, Aylaen would seize her sister’s hand and detain her with some excuse. If it had not been too absurd, Skylan would have thought Aylaen was avoiding being alone with him, just as he was avoiding being alone with Garn.

  Skylan asked his father about Raegar, using an excuse that he’d heard gossip among the Heudjun that once, long ago, his uncle Raegar had been betrothed to Draya.

  Norgaard had some vague recollection that this was true, but he could not remember details. Skylan brought up the tale of the eagle killing the adder outside his dwelling on the day of his birth. Norgaard said that might have happened, but he had been distraught over the death of Skylan’s mother and had paid little heed to anything else.

  Treia acted as Bone Priestess when the Dragon Kahg took the Venjekar back to Vindraholm. She was silent on the journey, would not talk to him, not even about Aylaen. When he brought up the subject of Aylaen becoming a Bone Priestess, Treia cast him a scornful glance and walked away.

  In Vindraholm, Draya and the Heudjun warriors came on board. Draya took over the private cabin belowdeck, which was where the Bone Priestess stayed during the voyage. The cabin was small and cramped, for most of the area below the deck was used for storing the loot seized during raids. Draya spread out fur blankets, making a comfortable sleeping area for herself and Skylan.

  He had been cudgeling his brain for days, trying to think of how he was going to avoid having to lie with her, and thus far he had not been able to manufacture an adequate excuse, one that would satisfy her and the Heudjun warriors, who would expect the married couple to behave like a married couple.

  Fortunately, the Sea Goddess Akaria came to Skylan’s rescue. She and Svanses, Goddess of the Wind, were waging one of their endless battles. The wind blew strong and, in retaliation, Akaria caused the sea to rise to challenge her. The waves fought the wind, and the Venjekar swooped up and plunged down, swooped up and plunged down. Draya became so ill, she was forced to seek refuge below.

  The war between the goddesses continued for days. Draya could do nothing except groan on her bed and puke into a bucket. Skylan promised Akaria a silver ring if she would keep the seas rough for the duration of the journey.

  For him, the voyage was a pleasant one. Skylan had selected twenty young warriors to accompany him. He chose young men over veterans, such as Draya’s friend, Sven. The voyage was going to be peaceful, he said, and this would give the young men good experience. In truth, Skylan did not want the older men, who would be more likely to oppose a raid on the druid settlement. Here was yet another lie.

  Skylan was troubled by his lies: lies to Draya, lies to his father, lies to his clansmen, lies mounting on top of lies like corpses piled atop one another when a shield-wall crumbled. Torval was a god of honor. He despised liars. Once Skylan had the Vektan Torque, he could stop lying. He would give the torque to the god, and all would be forgiven. Skylan fixed his gaze on that bright horizon and took care not to look too closely at the stinking, murky water through which he had to wade in order to reach it.

  They passed the landmark—One Tree Rock—that denoted the end of Vindrasi lands, and the Venjekar sailed out into the open seas. The Isle of Apensia did not lie on the route normally taken by the dragonships when they sailed to the Dragon Isles. It lay farther to the south. Once they were out to sea, Skylan told the steersman to head the ship that direction. Draya’s illness gave him an excuse. He claimed he was trying to find calmer seas to ease her sickness.

  The moon had been full last night and the night before. He had promised Raegar to meet at the time of the full moon. Skylan wandered the deck daily, eyes on the horizon, waiting tensely for the shout that meant the lookout had sighted land. He was eager to reach the place where he would rid himself of an unwanted wife and gain fabulous wealth in return, wealth he would use to fund the venture to the ogres’ lands.

  Three days had passed since they left behind One Tree Rock, and Draya appeared on deck. She looked exceedingly pale, thin and haggard, but she was no longer puking. She gave Skylan a wan smile and said in a low voice she was sorry he’d been forced to sleep on deck with the other warriors.

  Skylan answered politely that he was very glad to see her in better health.

  She said softly she hoped he would come to their bed
this night.

  He answered gravely he would not think of imposing himself upon her while she was still so weak.

  Draya cast him a despairing glance. Tears shimmered in her eyes.

  He realized that the young Heudjun warriors were watching this exchange between him and his wife. Had they overheard? He glanced about and didn’t think so. He and Draya had kept their voices down, and the warriors had all politely moved out of earshot when she came on deck to speak to her husband. They could not help but see her turn away from him and put her hand to her eyes. Several were regarding them both with lowered brows, worried looks.

  Damn it all, anyway! Skylan thought angrily, glaring at them. Haven’t any of you ever seen a husband and wife quarrel before?

  He was about to order the men to keep their eyeballs in their heads, when he remembered Raegar’s warning: He must not arouse suspicion.

  Lies, suspicions, guilt. Skylan’s wyrd had once been a single thread of sunshine and blue sky and a freshening sea breeze. Now it was twisted strands of darkness and slime and stinking swamp water.

  Skylan forged a smile for his lips and walked over to stand beside Draya. She looked so pale and wan, he could not help but feel sorry for her and more than a little guilty about his plan.

  “Sit down, madam,” he said. “You are newly risen from your sickbed. You must take care of yourself.”

  Draya looked at him, startled at his unusually respectful tone, and she gave him a pallid smile.

  “Take your ease,” he continued, assisting her to sit on one of the chests the men had brought on board. They not only stored belongings in the chests, they also used them as benches. “I will bring you something to eat and drink, food your weak stomach can tolerate.”

  He brought her bread soaked in ale, and he sat down beside her while she ate, talking of the Dragon Isles. He had not traveled there in some time. He asked her questions and tried to listen to her answers, but his mind kept wandering, as did his gaze—to the horizon.