Treia crouched in the sand, her thin arms wrapped around herself, her nails digging into her flesh. She said nothing. She did not weep. She stared with burning eyes and livid face out to sea.
Aylaen tried to comfort her. “Treia, I’m so sorry. Raegar was a good man—”
Treia stiffened, went rigid. She flashed a bitter glance at Aylaen, a glance that was like a blow. Treia stood up and walked off across the sand, her wet robes trailing behind her.
The men watched in uncomfortable silence, uncertain what to do or say.
“Go with your sister,” Skylan told Aylaen. “She shouldn’t be wandering around here alone. Garn, go with them. Take your weapons.”
Garn picked up his axe and shield and hastened off after Aylaen.
Skylan faced the men. “Raegar was our clansman. We grieve his loss. There will be time later to honor the dead. Now we must think of the living.”
He sent a few men to scout the area and find fresh water and hunt for deer or rabbits. The rest went to work building shelters amid the pine trees, cleaning and oiling the weapons, and rolling chain mail in the sand to rid it of rust.
“I will go to the Hall of Vektia, to pay our respects to Vindrash,” said Skylan. “I will thank her for guiding us here.”
“You shouldn’t go alone,” Bjorn objected. “It’s not safe. Someone should go with you.”
“We’re on the Dragon Isles. We are known here,” Skylan returned.
“But you said that Vindrash was angry with us for having lost the sacred torque—”
“I’m going alone,” Skylan stated in a grim tone that silenced further argument from Bjorn or anyone else.
Skylan knew he was acting recklessly, venturing off on his own. He could not risk bringing a companion, however, for he did not plan to pay his respects to Vindrash. He planned to humble himself before her, fall down on his knees, beg her forgiveness. The draugr had guided him here, perhaps for this very reason. Skylan hoped that if Vindrash forgave him, she could persuade the draugr to quit tormenting him.
He armed himself with his fine sword and picked up his shield. He thought of Raegar as he buckled on Blood Dancer, which had been Raegar’s gift. Skylan was truly grieved at the loss of the big, jovial man, but he was also a little relieved. Raegar alone knew the truth about what had happened to Skylan on the Isle of Apensia, and that secret was now drowned in the dark blue depths of the ocean.
Thinking this, Skylan was assailed by guilt. The last thing he needed was to be plagued by Raegar’s angry ghost! Skylan put his hand on the hilt of the sword his cousin had given him and asked his shade’s forgiveness. He vowed to give Raegar a rich grave gift on their return.
The terrain surrounding the bay was flat, a mixture of sand and dirt dotted by groves of pine trees, clumps of sage, and tough, bristly grass. The place had changed little in two years, since the last time he had come to the Dragon Isles with Norgaard to make the Torgun’s offering to the Dragon Goddess. A poor offering, for they had gone on few raids, and those had not been particularly profitable.
No trail led to the Hall of Vektia, despite the fact that the Vindrasi came here often. Wind and water swept away all traces. Skylan remembered the way, however. The Hall was not difficult to find. A man standing on the beach faced the rising sun, turned to his left, and walked a gently rising slope until he came to the Hall, which stood on the highest point of the large island, atop a cliff overlooking the sea.
Caught up in the tangle of his trouble, Skylan walked with his head down, not paying particular attention to his surroundings. If memory served, the ground rose gently until he reached the Hall. He was startled, therefore, to come suddenly upon a small lake.
He did not remember a lake, and he wondered irritably if he’d come the wrong way. Upon closer examination, he saw that this wasn’t a lake. A large depression had been deep enough to catch and hold rainwater. The same storm that had raked them at sea must have struck the Dragon Isles. That would account for the formation of the new sandbar and the formation of this oddly shaped body of water. He walked along the edge, idly speculating on what had made the odd-looking depression. Reaching the end, he was disconcerted to see, some distance away, another depression filled with water, roughly the same size and shape as the first.
“Skylan! Wait for me!”
Skylan turned to see Wulfe chasing after him.
“Did you know the draugr is following you?” Wulfe announced, coming to fall into step alongside Skylan.
Skylan placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and turned to look.
The draugr was walking along behind him, her feet leaving no mark on the sandy soil. The draugr came to a halt when she saw Skylan turn to confront her. She did not come closer, but stood gazing at him fixedly.
Skylan broke out in a cold and clammy sweat. “I am going to the Hall of Vektia,” he told the corpse. “I’m going to beg Vindrash to forgive me. I will do whatever she asks of me to make amends to you, Draya! I swear this by Torval!”
He hoped the draugr would see that he was in earnest and leave him alone. Draya remained, standing on the ground, leaving no mark.
“I’m doing what you want!” Skylan cried. “This is why you brought me here, isn’t it?”
“No,” said the draugr. “It is not.”
Bright white light burned like a star in the draugr’s breast, and the corpse burst apart, exploding in a ball of fire like a lightning-struck tree. The blast hurled Skylan to the ground. He lay on his face in the sand, blinking dazzled eyes. He lay at the feet of a dragon.
The feet of a goddess.
Shimmering wings extended outward from the enormous body. The long graceful tail thudded on the ground, causing it to shake and quiver. The gilded mane bristled. The dragon’s head on its curved neck swayed menacingly above Skylan. The mouth gaped, saliva dripped from the fangs, spattered on his face like the blood that had spewed from Draya’s mouth in her death throes. The dragon’s eyes were large and flared red orange.
Wulfe gave a terrified screech and took to his heels. Skylan wanted to run away like the boy, but he couldn’t move. He had heard all his life about men who were paralyzed with fear, and now he understood. A bitter taste filled his mouth. He shook as with fever chills. When he tried to speak, his throat clogged.
“Vindrash,” Skylan begged wretchedly, “forgive me!”
“I am not the forgiving sort,” said the goddess, and Skylan flinched.
“Fortunately for you, Skylan Ivorson,” Vindrash continued, “Torval is forgiving, though you have done much to offend him. You broke your oath to your father by declaring yourself Chief of Chiefs. You broke your oath to Draya to honor and love and protect her. And oath-breaking is the least of your sins. You plotted to have your wife, a Kai Priestess, abducted. To cover your crimes, you told more lies, claiming you were attacked by giants on the Dragon Isles. Worse, you swore to the truth of your lies by invoking Torval’s name, bringing shame and dishonor on yourself and your god.”
Skylan felt each accusation thud into him like a spear.
Vindrash’s harsh tone softened. “Torval grieves for you. He thinks well of you, Skylan Ivorson. And because Torval thinks well of you, he has decided you will be given a chance to redeem yourself.”
“I am grateful to Torval,” Skylan said, weak with relief. “I will do whatever the god asks of me! I swear!”
“Another oath?” Vindrash snorted. “Stand up, Skylan Ivorson. Look around. What do you see?”
Skylan rose to his feet. The goddess’s radiance blinded him, but gradually his eyes grew accustomed to the shining light. He looked about, wondering what marvels Torval was about reveal.
Skylan was disappointed to see only what he had seen before: stands of pine trees, grassy terrain, the large, irregular depressions in the earth, one here, one there, another farther on, another after that, looking for all the world like footprints . . . gigantic footprints . . . the footprints . . . of giants . . .
Skylan remembered his lie
.
We came upon a strange imprint in the sand. . . . It was made by a foot. A foot as long as this hall and just as wide.
Skylan sank to his knees and stared at the goddess in horror.
“You have been ravaged by guilt over your lies,” said Vindrash, gently mocking. “Torval is merciful and he will ease your conscience—”
The Dragon Goddess smiled down on Skylan.
“—by making your lie the truth.”
CHAPTER
10
The Dragon Goddess spread her wings and sprang into the air. The shadow of her wings glided over five giants walking slowly across the land, looking about as if searching for their foe. Skylan was tempted to cry out, beg for mercy. He clamped his lips on the words. When he was a child and Norgaard had whipped him in punishment for some infraction, if Skylan sniveled, Norgaard only whipped him harder.
I deserve this punishment, Skylan thought, staring at the giants in dismay. He had never seen or imagined creatures like those he watched bearing down on him.
The giants in Skylan’s lie had been those of fable and song, enormous humans, dull-witted and stupid, who dressed in bearskins and carried spears the size of oak trees.
The giants of the Dragon Isles were human in appearance, taller than a full-grown oak and thin as a post. They seemed to be made of skin-covered bone held together by catgut. They had huge hands with long splayed fingers, and enormous feet with long toes. They sprang off their toes as they walked, jumping high into the air, landing lightly as spiders. Their movements were slow, but they covered huge chunks of ground.
Their heads were small, like spiders, and swiveled on long necks. They had small bright eyes and small mouths and long, silky hair. They wore nothing but cloth twined about their privates. They carried what looked to be a child’s toy: two large stones hanging from each end of a length of rope.
But this was no toy. One of the giants began to dexterously twirl the rope in his hand, causing the two stones to whip about with destructive force. The giant struck several pine trees with the stones. The pines seemed to explode, limbs snapping and branches flying. Skylan pictured the stones whirling among his men, smashing them to bits.
My men died, crushed to bloody pulp.
Skylan turned and ran back toward the bay, thinking as he ran. In his lie, he had told how Draya had tried to summon the Dragon Kahg only to be carried off by a giant. The dragon could fight these monsters. Skylan had to reach the camp before the giants did.
Skylan passed the hunting party on his way. A sharp command brought the men dashing after him. He arrived in camp to find the men already armed and prepared for a fight.
Winded from his run, Skylan had to pause a moment to find breath enough to speak. He kept his eye on the east. The giants had been moving fast. They would be here soon.
“We’re about to be attacked,” Skylan gasped. “By giants.”
“Then what you said is true!” Erdmun cried. “Torval’s curse is upon us! We’re not wanted here! We should not have come!”
“Torval’s curse upon you if you don’t shut your mouth!” Skylan said furiously. “We don’t have time for wailing and whining. I need Treia. She must summon the Dragon Kahg to help us fight these creatures.”
Skylan cast a glance about the gathering on the beach. He saw Aylaen and Garn, but they were alone.
“Where is Treia?” he demanded.
“We thought she was with you!” Aylaen said, her voice quavering.
“With me?” Skylan stared at her. “Why would you think that?”
“She said she was going to go with you to the Hall of Vektia.” Aylaen faltered and grew pale. “Vindrash save us! Treia is out there . . . by herself. . . .”
“Skoval’s balls!” Skylan swore. “I never saw her. When did she leave? How long ago?” He glared at Garn. “I ordered you to guard her! Why did you let her go off alone?”
“He didn’t, Skylan,” Aylaen said defensively. “Treia said she felt faint. I stayed with her while Garn went to fetch water. When Garn left, Treia said she had sent him away on purpose. She was going to the Hall to pray for Raegar. I begged her not to go, but she assured me she would be safe. She said she would meet you. I couldn’t stop her. She was gone by the time Garn came back.”
“I set out after her,” Garn added. “I picked up her trail and yours. And then I ran into Wulfe, who was yelling about a dragon. I didn’t believe him, but the boy was clearly frightened, and I feared something had happened to you. I made the decision to come back to arm the men. I was going to bring them to your aid.”
“You did the right thing,” Skylan muttered. Garn always does the right thing. I’m the one who constantly fouls up.
Now he had five tree-snapping giants bearing down on them and no Bone Priestess and no way to summon the dragon.
Unless . . .
Skylan looked at Aylaen. “Did Treia take the spiritbone with her?”
“No, I have it. . . .” Aylaen realized what he was about to say next and she vehemently shook her head. “I can’t, Skylan! You can’t ask me!”
“I’m not asking,” said Skylan grimly. “I’m ordering. Treia has been training you to be a Bone Priestess. You know the ritual. You have to summon the Dragon Kahg. Otherwise we’re going to be smashed to pudding.”
“You don’t understand—” Aylaen swallowed.
“I understand that we’re all going to be killed if you don’t summon the dragon!” Skylan yelled.
“Don’t shout at her,” Garn said angrily.
“You shut up!” Skylan glared at him. “Aylaen?”
“I lied, Skylan!” Aylaen’s eyes shimmered with tears. “I lied to you. I lied to the Kai. I didn’t come because I wanted to be a Bone Priestess. I came because . . .”
“I know why you came,” said Skylan bitterly.
He wanted to hit things and break things and punch things. He wanted to rail against the wyrd that had wrapped them in this coil. He wanted to cry like a little child. He couldn’t do any of that. He was Chief of Chiefs. His people were depending on him.
Skylan walked over to Aylaen. He took hold of her hands and clasped them firmly. She kept her head lowered.
“Look at me. Look at me,” he repeated when she refused.
Aylaen raised her eyes.
“You lied to the Kai, to Treia, to me. You lied to the gods.”
Skylan paused. He longed to confess, tell her that he, too, had lied, told lie upon lie. He didn’t dare. He was the Torgun War Chief, their leader. His men had to have faith in him; otherwise, they were doomed.
“Perhaps this is the way the gods will redeem you, Aylaen. By making your lie the truth.”
Skylan drew in a deep breath, then went on. “Treia has been training you. You know the ritual—”
“No, I don’t!” Aylaen cried. “I saw Treia perform the ritual once, and that was months ago when the ogres attacked! She tried to explain it to me while we were on board the ship, but I didn’t pay attention. I never thought I’d have to . . . The dragon has never spoken to me—”
“Try, Aylaen,” Skylan urged. “That’s all I’m asking. Pray to Torval. Ask for his help.”
“Why should he help me when I lied to him?” Aylaen asked miserably.
“Because the wyrd of the gods is bound up in ours,” Garn told her. “Because even the gods are afraid.”
Could that be true? Skylan wondered suddenly. He didn’t know whether to be comforted by that thought or not. He wanted to ask Garn what he meant. He wanted to have a long talk with his friend. After the battle, I will tell Garn everything, Skylan resolved. I will ask him to forgive me. No wonder that Aylaen loves him. She was right. She loves him as I love him. He deserves our love. I am a cheat and a liar and a fraud. I do not.
“I will try,” Aylaen said softly. “I will pray to Torval to forgive me.”
“And I will pray that Torval forgives at least one of us,” Skylan said beneath his breath.
Aylaen drew the spiritbone from t
he embroidered leather bag in which it was kept when it was removed from the dragonship. She went down on her knees in the sand and started speaking the words to the ritual. She spoke slowly and hesitantly, starting and backing up and repeating herself, and then she stopped altogether.
“I can’t remember!” Aylaen clutched the bone, shaking it in frustration.
“Take your time,” Garn counseled.
The ground shook, as when thunder fell from heaven and rolled across the land. Or when huge stones thumped the ground.
“Just don’t take too much time,” Skylan said.
Aylaen bit her lip and began to recite the ritual again.
Skylan watched Aylaen a moment longer, then glanced at Garn. “Stay with her.”
Garn nodded. Skylan turned to find his men, under Sigurd’s direction, forming a shield-wall. He glared at them in exasperation.
“Are you mad? All bunched together like that, a giant could take you all out with one blow! We have to spread out! We’re not going to win this battle with swords and shields. Fetch the spears, as many as you can carry. I don’t care if you can’t throw. The targets are big enough so that even you, Alfric, can’t very well miss.”
Alfric the One-Eyed grinned. During a spear-chucking contest, he was renowned for having missed the mark by such a wide margin that he’d wounded one of the judges.
“Take cover in the pine trees,” Skylan continued. “Just make sure you keep within shouting distance of each other.”
“What do we aim for?” Erdmun asked, bewildered. “Their eyes?”
“Their balls,” said Skylan.
Erdmun gave a nervous snicker.
“I’m not kidding,” said Skylan grimly.
The men scattered, running to grab the spears that had been salvaged from the dragonship. Skylan realized suddenly that someone else besides Treia was missing.
“Where’s Wulfe?” Skylan turned to Garn. “You said you saw him.”
“He ran off before I could grab him,” said Garn. “I think he was more frightened of me than of the dragon.”
Ugly Ones armed with swords and axes, stinking of iron.
Skylan shouted Wulfe’s name, but there was no answer, and eventually he gave up. The ground was shaking from the thudding of the stones almost continually now. Men cried out that they could see the giants coming.
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