Secret of the Dragon

by Margaret Weis

  The Priestess-Mother smiled. “Raegar tells me that you have been converted to the true faith, that you have given your heart and soul to Aelon.”

  “I have, Priestess-Mother,” said Treia.

  The Priest-Mother cast her a shrewd glance. “Aelon can see into your heart, Sister. If you are lying, he will not permit you to enter this holy place.”

  “How would the god stop me?” Treia asked uneasily.

  “If anyone who does not believe in Aelon dare to enter his shrine, a mighty wind will lift the heretic up to the heavens, that he may see the face of the god and tremble.”

  “And if this person persists in his unbelief?” Treia asked.

  “Death is the fate of the unbeliever,” said the Priestess-Mother sternly.

  They followed winding paths across the grassy slopes. The paths were thronged. Everyone from the youngest novice to the eldest priest was required to attend morning prayers.

  The Shrine was the strangest building Treia had ever seen. The large structure was built of brick and it was round in shape, looking like a kettle turned upside down. The top of the dome was covered in gold and gleamed brightly, making the sun goddess, Aylis, who was just rising, seem dull and shabby by contrast.

  The Priestess-Mother said she was needed inside for the ceremonies and hurried off, leaving Treia alone to stare at the arched entryway of the domed Shrine. Treia could just barely make out carved symbols of the suns, held in the mouths of serpents. She recalled the Priestess-Mother’s words.

  Death is the fate of the unbeliever.

  Treia considered what to do. She was not a convert to Aelon. She thought well of him, but she did not put her faith in him or in any other god. She had given her heart to Raegar, but her soul was her own.

  That said, Treia saw no reason to fear Aelon. To her way of thinking, the God of the New Light expended a lot of time and effort to bring her here. He must have a reason.

  Aelon would be nice to her.

  Treia walked confidently through the door of Aelon’s shrine.

  The god did not disturb a hair on her head.

  CHAPTER

  5

  * * *

  BOOK TWO

  Treia gazed about the Shrine. A large hole in the roof, like an eye, stared down at the people crowded inside. The Priest-General conducted the service, which was extremely long. He stood on a spiral wooden staircase that placed him above the heads of the crowd so that everyone could see and hear him. His voice was loud and carrying. His exhortations roared through the building, his voice reverberating off the stone wall and rumbling down like thunder from the ceiling. The worshippers around her paid close attention and would often raise their voices in glad shouts.

  Treia asked someone if they knew where she might find Warrior-Priest Raegar and was told he was near the altar, which was at the front of the hall. The warrior-priests served as honor guards to the Priest-General. Treia was in the back, near the door, wedged in among a flock of novices.

  Her head began to ache from the noise and the heat of all these bodies packed together. She stopped listening to the sermon and thought about her sister.

  Aylaen, always Aylaen! Beautiful, free-spirited, temper-blazing Aylaen. Not Treia the weak-eyed, Treia the dried-up virgin, Treia the homely.

  Before Raegar had come into Treia’s life, no man had ever loved her. No man had so much as looked at her. The thought of losing Raegar filled her with dread. She could not bear life without him. She had to think of some way to make him keep loving her. Some way to make him give up his desire for Aylaen.

  Treia looked up at the eye in the ceiling staring down on those below. Aelon had permitted her to enter his sacred shrine. He needed her. Well, now she needed him.

  She fixed her eye upon his eye and waited. As if in answer, the words of the Priest-General rang clear, as if he were speaking directly to her.

  “None of the other gods, certainly not the gods of Raj or the worn-out gods of the Vindrasi, have the power of bringing the dead back to life,” said the Priest-General. “Only Aelon!”

  “Praise to Aelon!” cried the worshippers.

  Raise the dead, Treia repeated to herself. She smiled. If that was truly possible, her problem with Aylaen was solved.

  After what seemed an eon, the service ended. The faithful filed out, their faces glowing, basking in the light that shone on them from above. Treia kept near the entrance. Time passed and Raegar did not come. Eventually she was the only person in the building, which seemed immense now that it was empty.

  At last, she saw Raegar come striding across the floor toward her, tall and imposing and handsome in his priestly robes. His bald head gleamed in the light; his eyes glistened with excitement.

  “My love!” he said, and he greeted Treia with a kiss on the cheek and took her by the arm.

  “What happened last night?” Treia asked. “With Skylan and the others. The tattoos of Aelon,” she added, seeing Raegar looking blank.

  “Oh, that.” He snorted and made a dismissive gesture. “Skylan tried to fight the god’s will, of course. He paid dearly for his rebellion. Over time, he will learn. Or the god will kill him,” he added with satisfaction.

  “What of Aylaen?” Treia asked.

  “She tried to defend that daemon spawn, Wulfe, but gave up in the end when she witnessed Aelon’s power. As for the boy, my priests took him into custody. I have not received their reports this morning, but presumably the boy is being held in a prison cell especially designed to resist the foul magicks of the fae. I will deal with him later today, after our meeting with the Priest-General.”

  Treia forgot about Wulfe and Aylaen. “We are meeting with the Priest-General?” she asked, as shocked as if he had said they had been invited to meet with Aelon himself.

  “The Priest-General does us both a great honor,” said Raegar.

  Treia looked up at the eye as she walked beneath the hole in the domed ceiling. The light shone steadily and she was reassured.

  They walked past the altar, which was probably beautiful. She had no idea. She was too nervous to pay heed to it. Behind the altar, double doors made of bronze on which was engraved the winged serpents led to the offices of the Priest-General. Two Temple guards stood in front of this door. Other guards ranged along either side. At Raegar’s approach, the two guards crossed their spears to block his entrance.

  “The Priest-General is expecting me,” said Raegar.

  One of the guards told them curtly to remain where they were and entered. Another guard immediately took his place. Treia had her hand upon Raegar’s arm and she could feel him trembling with excited anticipation. She trembled, too, but not with anticipation.

  The guard returned and told Raegar they could enter. He and his fellow stepped aside. Treia expected some magnificent chamber to lay beyond it. Instead, they entered a long and shadowy passageway lined with rooms, at the end of which was another set of double doors, these made of steel.

  Treia looked curiously at the rooms as they passed. Inside one, priests sat upon tall stools writing on wax tablets or scrolls of papyrus. In another, several priests sat cross-legged on the floor. In front of each was a large silver bowl, plain and elegant, filled with water. Each priest concentrated fixedly on his bowl. Occasionally a gout of flame would rise up from the water, and when this happened, the priest leaned closer; he seemed to be listening.

  “Those are the Watchers,” said Raegar. “Any priest of Aelon anywhere in the world may send a message through fire and water to the Watchers, who will send it on to its destination.”

  As he spoke, one of the Watchers rose to his feet and glided silently over to a priest who sat in a chair in the center of the room. He spoke something in the priest’s ear. He listened, ruminated, then nodded. The Watcher returned to the bowl and began to speak. The gout of flame wavered and danced as his breath touched it.

  “Have you done this?” Treia asked in a whisper.

  “Of course,” said Raegar. “How do you think
the Legate knew where to find the Venjekar?”

  Treia was impressed, even awed. She began to think more highly of this god, Aelon, who could perform such wonders.

  They continued on and eventually reached the set of steel doors at the end of the passage. These were not as imposing as the bronze doors, being plain and unadorned. A warrior-priest stood in front, not Temple guards. The warrior-priest raised his hand in formal greeting.

  “Aelon is pleased. You may enter,” he said.

  “Aelon himself guards this door,” said Raegar. “Inside is the treasure vault. The priests must pray to the god for access.”

  The vault was vast and resplendent with light that shone from a ball of fire hanging suspended from the ceiling, as if Aelon had captured the sun and tethered it to the roof. The light gleamed off gold and shone on silver and sparkled in the myriad jewels with a brilliance that hurt the eye. Treia was dazzled. Beautiful, valuable objects were jumbled together, piled on tables or stacked on the floor or spilling out of wooden chests. Statues (some life-size), chalices, bowls, necklaces, rings, belts, arm bands, coins, and more—all made of precious metals, many encrusted with gems—filled the room.

  “Here you see proof of Aelon’s greatness,” said Raegar with a proud gesture.

  Raegar was watching her eagerly, waiting for her reaction. Treia would not disappoint him. She knew what to say. She had known what to say all those years kneeling on the wood plank floor, bruising her kneecaps, chanting prayers to a block of wood carved into the shape of a dragon goddess.

  “Blessed is Aelon and those who worship him.”

  “Well said, Sister.”

  A man entered the room through the steel doors. At his command, the doors closed behind him.

  “Priest-General Xydis,” Raegar said, “this is the woman of whom I have spoken. Treia Adalbrand, Bone Priestess of the Vindrasi.”

  “Your servant, Worshipful Sir,” said Treia, having been told in advance the proper form of address. She bowed low.

  Zyprexa Xydis was short and well-built, with muscular arms and a thick neck and body, appearing as strong and enduring as boulder, as if the waves of life might crash into him and never wear him down.

  His complexion was swarthy, his shaved head covered with tattoos and with jewels embedded in the skin. His face was clean-shaven. The blue shadow of his beard outlined his jutting, squared-off jaw. His eyes were dark and keen.

  Xydis stood straight as a spear shaft and wore an air of command; he had been a soldier before he became a warrior-priest. He wore a purple robe, the border trimmed in gold. He radiated power like the sun radiates heat, and Treia could feel Raegar tense and quiver in the man’s presence.

  Xydis studied her for long moments without speaking, shrewdly taking her measure. She met his gaze, refusing to quail before him, enduring his scrutiny with cool aplomb. He liked this, apparently, for he gave her an approving smile.

  “Raegar said you were a remarkable woman,” said Xydis in his deep, booming voice. “He was right. Come with me.”

  He walked off, moving rapidly. Treia was startled and a little alarmed by his abruptness. Xydis was a man of few words. He found mindless “palaverings,” as he termed them, annoying and had been known to rudely cut short the vague ramblings of the Empress. He was blunt and pugnacious, preferring action to talk.

  The Priest-General led the way through the fabulous clutter to a wooden table near the back of the vault. He stood in front of the table and, clasping his hands behind him and rocking forward on his feet, he gestured with his head and regarded her expectantly.

  “Well, what do you think, Bone Priestess?”

  The table held two objects. The gleam of gold came from one, but, with her weak eyesight, Treia could not make out precisely what she was looking at. The other was plainer, simpler.

  “I must . . . look more closely, Worshipful Sir,” Treia murmured apologetically. “My eyes . . .”

  He nodded and stepped aside, crowding near her, dividing his gaze between her and the prizes. Raegar remained standing behind, looming over her.

  Treia looked first at the object of gleaming gold and her heart stopped beating. She knew immediately what it was. She pretended she did not, however, for her mind was in turmoil. She must have betrayed her emotions, however, for she was acutely aware that Xydis’s eyes narrowed. To cover her confusion and to give herself time to think, she concentrated on the other object.

  “This is a spiritbone, the bone of a dragon,” she said.

  “So Raegar told us,” said Xydis. “He said you are a Bone Priestess. Can you summon this dragon?”

  “I know the ritual to summon the dragon,” said Treia cautiously, not wanting to commit herself.

  “Could this ritual be taught to another?” Xydis asked. “Suppose, for example, I wanted to summon this dragon myself. Could you teach the ritual to me?”

  “I could,” Treia said. “The ritual is not difficult to learn. But that does not mean you could use it to call the dragon, Worshipful Sir. The summoning is a pact made between the dragon and the summoner and the Goddess Vindrash. Even then, the dragon has free will. The beast must want to answer.”

  Xydis picked up the spiritbone, the plain one. The bone seemed to nestle in his hand.

  “This dragon will answer,” he said. “This dragon came to us of her own accord.”

  Treia stared, astonished. “This dragon is a follower of Aelon?”

  “She is fond of jewels, it seems,” said Xydis dryly.

  Treia thought of the Dragon Kahg arrogant and smug and self-satisfied like all of his kind, considering themselves so superior. It seemed dragons were susceptible to what they would term human weaknesses.

  “I could teach you the ritual, Worshipful Sir,” said Treia. “Or the dragon could teach you herself.”

  “Excellent,” said Xydis. He watched her closely and said softly, his gaze going to the other spiritbone, the one adorned with gold, “What about this one? Tell me about it.”

  Xydis had brought her here to see this, Treia realized. He already knew about the other spiritbone. He needed only her confirmation that it would prove useful. This was the prize.

  Treia’s mouth went dry, and her lips felt brittle and rough. She moistened them with her tongue and wondered desperately what to do, what to say. She was tempted to pass this off as nothing, merely a spiritbone adorned with gold. She glanced at Xydis and saw that he knew this object was extraordinary, that there was something special about it.

  “Where did you get this?” she asked.

  “Never mind—” Raegar said impatiently.

  Xydis frowned at Raegar, who flushed, chastened, and kept quiet.

  “Is it valuable?” Xydis asked, not answering.

  “Oh, yes,” said Treia, her voice tight.

  “It is the bone of a dragon—”

  “Not an ordinary dragon,” Treia interjected. She felt smothered, unable to draw enough air into her lungs. “This is the spiritbone of one of the Vektan Five.”

  Raegar sucked in an astonished breath.

  Xydis looked from one to the other and he frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Treia marveled at the beautiful object. Golden bands twined around the bone like the tail of a dragon. Golden wings spread from the bone with a golden chain attached to the tips of each of the wings. The head of the dragon reared up from the bone. The largest emeralds Treia had ever seen adorned the spiritbone, placed above the head. Two smaller emeralds were embedded in the wings.

  “How did you come by this, Worshipful Sir?” she asked again.

  “The bone was a gift from one of your gods,” Xydis replied.

  Treia nodded. She was not surprised.

  “Was it Hevis?” Treia asked, naming a god known to be rebellious, one who chafed under Torval’s rule. One who had, long ago, seduced a Kai Priestess into summoning one of the Vektan Five—with disastrous results.

  “I believe the name of the god was Sund,” said Xydis, off handed. The names
of gods slated for destruction didn’t much matter to him. “It seems this god, Sund, looked into the future and saw that Aelon would be victorious. Sund feared his own destruction and he traded the spiritbone for survival.”

  Sund, the God of Logic, of rational thought, of far-sight. If Sund had switched sides, he must have seen the old gods were doomed. Treia was not surprised at Sund’s betrayal. The gods of the Vindrasi were known to be self-serving, caring only for their own pleasures and concerns, little for the mortals they ruled.

  “Tell me what is so extraordinary about this dragon,” Xydis said.

  Raegar hastened to answer. He was excited, beaming and rubbing his hands. “The Vektia dragon is an immensely powerful dragon, Priest-General. Such a dragon can set entire cities aflame with a single breath.”

  Xydis looked at Treia, leaned toward her, drew nearer, talking to her as if this was confidential between the two of them.

  “Does Raegar speak the truth, Sister?”

  “Yes,” said Treia.

  “But there is more to this dragon than the ability to burn cities, isn’t there? You are a Bone Priestess. You tell me about this dragon.”

  Treia hesitated. Not because she was wondering which side to take. She was as coldly calculating as Sund, and though her vision might be blurred, she could see the battle was going poorly for the old gods. Like Sund, she planned to be on the winning side. Treia hesitated because she was trying to figure out how much to reveal.

  Treia had been expecting Xydis to ask her to summon an ordinary dragon, such as the Dragon Kahg. Instead, Xydis was going to want her to summon one of the Vektan Five! This was the reason Aelon needed her. Treia had to figure out how to take advantage of this unbelievable opportunity to further her own ambition. And Raegar’s, of course.

  “The Vektan Five are not ordinary dragons. They are made of the crest of the dragon, Ilyrion, the Creator of the World. Her essence is embodied in these five dragons.”