Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [146]
“Do you know what they are doing?” he asked softly.
“I have no idea what the pagans are up to,” said Raegar in disgust.
Several men bore between them a large stake. Under the druid’s directions, they carried the stake to a place where the moonlight slanted down between the leafy branches, forming a moon glade. Here they upended the stake, which was taller than Raegar, and dropped it into a hole in the ground. Once the stake was settled in position, the druid entered the moon glade. He studied the stake, pushed and shoved on it to make certain it was stable.
“We are ready for the sacrifice,” the druid said.
He turned to look at Skylan and Raegar and gave a command to the men.
“Fetch the Vindrasi.”
CHAPTER
11
The wooden stake gleamed silver in the moonlight. The men carried heavy ropes to the site and laid them in coils at the base of the stake. The druid stood with his hands folded, patiently waiting. Two men headed for Skylan and Raegar.
“Cut these damn vines!” Skylan hissed, trying to kick loose the vine that wrapped around his boots.
“Shut up!” Raegar hissed back. “You’ll make the bastards suspicious.”
“Then give me the knife!” Skylan said. “I will fight them! I won’t die like a cow!”
“Be patient,” Raegar returned. “Stick to the plan. When the men start to untie us, I’ll grab one of them and hold my knife at his throat. The other will do what I tell him.”
Skylan didn’t like having to trust Raegar or anyone to save his life. He continued to struggle to free himself, with the result that the vines slipped down from around his arms. The two men had drawn near enough to see clearly in the moonlight. Their eyes widened; they slowed their pace. One of them started to turn to shout a warning.
Raegar gave a leap and flung himself on the man. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he put the knife’s blade to his throat.
“Free my friend,” Raegar ordered the other man savagely. “Or I swear by Torval, I will slit your friend’s throat from ear to ear!”
The man did not move. He seemed paralyzed by fear.
“You! Pagan!” Raegar shouted to the druid. “Tell him to obey me or this bastard will be tonight’s sacrifice!”
“Do as he says,” the druid ordered.
The man drew a bone knife from his belt and, bending down, sliced through the vines that held Skylan.
“Grab your sword!” Raegar told him, still holding on to his hostage. He’d nicked the man’s flesh with his knife. A trickle of blood ran down the neck. The man’s eyes were wide with fright.
Hundreds of people, all bearing torches, had assembled to witness the sacrifice. They stood watching in silence, making no outcry, as Skylan dashed over to the tree that held his sword. The orange light of the fire and the silver light of the moon gilded the sword’s blade, which hung suspended from the tree limb, hilt facing downward.
Skylan gazed up at his sword. At first he thought the druid had somehow caused it to magically fly up into the tree. Now, he was not so certain. He had the uneasy feeling the tree itself had seized his sword. Skylan eyed the tree warily.
“Hurry up!” Raegar shouted.
The sword dangled just out of reach. Skylan jumped, trying desperately to grab it. His fingers brushed the hilt, but he couldn’t catch hold of it, and he fell back down. The sword swung back and forth, as though the tree were taunting him.
Skylan was about to leap again when he heard a frantic cry. “Skylan! Help me! Skylan! Please!”
He turned to see Draya, struggling in the grip of her captors, being tied to the stake.
He was not to be the sacrifice.
She was.
“Skylan!” Draya pleaded. “They mean to murder me! Help me!”
Skylan stared, horrified. The men shoved Draya against the stake and began to tie the ropes around her body, binding her fast.
“Let her go!” Skylan bellowed. He pointed at Raegar’s captive. “Or we will slay this man!”
“You must do what you have to do,” said the