Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [115]
Draya had never realized how deeply Treia resented her. Treia seemed to blame the Kai Priestess for the fact that her mother had essentially bartered her daughter to the gods. Draya had hoped to make amends by inviting Treia to perform the marriage ceremony. Strangely, the invitation seemed only to deepen Treia’s resentment.
Draya retired to the sleeping chamber to put on clean clothing and the embroidered surcoat that marked her high office. She was braiding her hair when she heard Skylan moving around the living area.
Her hands shook; she had to quit her task. She must face him. There was no helping that. Her courage failed her. She could not remain hiding in the bedroom forever, however. She hastily finished the braid, winding it around her head, and put on the surcoat. She bravely attempted a smile and walked into the living area. She saw, with a start, that Skylan was dressing as though for a journey. He had on his tunic and helm, his silver armbands, and chain mail. Skylan’s old sword (not the new one she had given him) bumped against his hip.
“Where are you going, lord?” Draya asked, startled.
Skylan continued to arm himself. Perhaps he was preparing to return to his own homeland! The Torgun were slated to leave today, and Skylan might well have decided to sail with them. Draya was panic-stricken. His sudden departure would look very, very bad.
She was about to press the issue, demand an answer, when he said abruptly, “I had a dream last night. Torval came to me. He ordered me to go to Hammerfall.”
Skylan looked at her directly now, and his blue eyes were ice cold. “I have to seek the god’s forgiveness.”
Draya flushed in shame. A dream sent by the god must be acted upon, of course, but what would people think? She was about to tell Skylan he could not go, he could not possibly leave her now, but then she checked her words. Might not his departure be best for both of them?
Hammerfall was one of the most sacred sites of the Vindrasi. When Torval had finally won his battle over the Dragon Ilyrion, he had been so exhausted that his blood-covered war hammer had slipped from his hand. It had fallen an immense distance through the heavens until it struck the ground. The hammer’s head gouged out a huge crater that was perfectly round with high walls and a smooth floor of black shining rock where nothing would grow. Warriors often traveled to Hammerfall to ask Torval’s blessing before going to war or to dedicate a new sword or battle axe. Those who had told lies or done something else dishonorable went to Hammerfall to seek the god’s forgiveness.
Hammerfall was located south of Vindraholm. The journey would take Skylan a fortnight, at least. Time spent alone, time to cool off, think things over. When the young man returned, he would feel better, and they could start over.
“I think that is an excellent idea, lord. Though, of course,” Draya added in a low voice, “you must keep your reason for going a secret.”
Skylan’s lip curled. “If anyone asks, madam, I will say that I am traveling to Hammerfall to thank the god for the very great favor he has bestowed on me by giving you for my wife.”
Draya flinched at his piercing sarcasm.
“I have a meeting with the Clan Chiefs this morning,” Skylan continued, gathering his things. “Then I must bid farewell to my father and my clansmen. I will depart immediately after that.”
Draya noticed Skylan was limping—his wound pained him. She knew better than to offer to help him. She could give him another kind of assistance, however.
“The journey is a long one. Too long for you to make on foot. If you go to the horse pen, lord, you will find another of my gifts to you: the black stallion with the white blaze. He is battle-trained and very fast. According to Sven, who bred him, he can run a hole in the wind. His name is Blade.”
Skylan stopped in his work. A horse was a valuable and treasured gift. He frowned,