Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [159]
Skylan could see that the boy was floundering, but carried on anyway. The game play distracted him, took his mind off his troubles. In order to teach Wulfe, Skylan played both sides, showing the boy as the game progressed what piece to play and explaining why he was playing it.
Wulfe had no idea what he was doing or why he was doing it. He moved the pieces at random, sometimes picking up Skylan’s piece instead of his own, for the boy truly couldn’t understand the difference. He wasn’t enjoying this at all, but he continued to play because he could see the game brought pleasure to the downcast, brooding, and unhappy young man.
Wulfe was starting to like Skylan. He didn’t think of him as an Ugly One anymore. Skylan was different from the druids who had raised Wulfe. Studied, scholarly, soft-spoken, self-possessed, the druids eschewed all strong emotions. This was partly necessitated by the fact that the fae who inhabited and loved the forest also loved the druids for the care they took of the trees and plants. If anyone sought to harm the druids, the fae would take it upon themselves to remove the threat, never mind that the druids might not want them to do so. The druids had not turned Skylan’s men into rabbits or ordered the strangler fig to attack. The dryads and hamadryads, sprites and wood nymphs and tree nymphs, undine and sylphids and all the rest of the fae had been roused to anger by the aggressive actions of the warriors, and the results had been disastrous.
The druids were oftentimes shocked and horrified by the actions of the faeries, who could be incredibly thoughtless and cruel. Unable to forgive or forget the terrible war that had brought death to so many and destroyed their world, the fae were always glad for a chance to lash out at the Ugly Ones. The fae lived in the moment, from moment to moment. They did not worry about the consequences of their actions because, for them, actions had no consequences. The druids had learned that the only way to exert a modicum of control over the fae was to maintain control over themselves. Strong emotions such as fear and anger could precipitate a calamity.
Thus, in his eleven years among the druids, Wulfe had never heard a raised voice. People had learned not to quarrel (or to keep their quarrels private), for the fae might take sides. Life proceeded at a calm, placid, and easy pace. Skylan, by contrast, crackled with emotions, all shooting off in different directions like jagged streaks of lightning. Wulfe found this exciting, if a little dangerous, and while it took some getting used to, Wulfe liked it. He was dangerous, too, in his own way.
Still, Wulfe hadn’t counted on quite so much danger.
He was reaching for one of the pieces, about to pick it up, when his hand froze in midair.
“What’s the matter?” Skylan asked, seeing the boy’s face pale and eyes widen.
“The draugr!” Wulfe said in a low voice. “She’s standing right behind you. No! Don’t turn around!”
Skylan stiffened. His hand tightened over the piece he was holding. Sweat broke out on his forehead.
“What is she doing?” Skylan asked, shuddering.
“I . . . I think she wants to play the game with you,” Wulfe said. He stood up and edged away from the stool.
The draugr took the boy’s place, seating herself across the board from Skylan. He stared at the corpse-face, with its dead, sunken eyes and bluish lips, and he had to fight the urge to flee.
The draugr silently moved a piece, then pointed to him, indicating it was his move.
“I’m not going to play with a draugr,” Skylan said, his throat constricting.
“I don’t think you have a choice,” Wulfe told him.
“Where are you going? Don’t leave!”
Wulfe scampered up the ladder, out the open hatchway, and disappeared.
Skylan stood up from the stool. His sword lay on the deck, covered by the blanket.
“I’m not playing,” he said defiantly.
The draugr pointed at the dragonbones. Skylan snatched off the blanket,