Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [167]
“I challenged the giants, taunted them, dared them to fight me. But as we Vindrasi always leave one survivor in a battle to carry a warning to our enemies, so the giants left me alive. They sent me back with a message. Because Horg gave the Vektan Torque to our enemies, the gods have cursed us. We are not permitted to return to the Dragon Isles until we have recovered the sacred torque from the ogres.”
This was the part of the lie that Skylan considered inspired. The Vindrasi nation would be roused to action. Skylan would recover the torque and redeem himself in the eyes of Torval. All his lies, his blunders, and mistakes would be forgiven him.
Drawing his sword, he held it high above his head. “I vow to Torval that by the next moonrise, the dragonships of the Vindrasi will sail. As Chief of Chiefs, I will lead our warriors to battle! We will find the ogres’ lands, and we will put the monsters to the sword and take back our sacred torque! Then we will sail to the Dragon Isles and lay it at the feet of the gods!”
The Torgun cheered and stamped on the floor and pounded the tables with the flats of their hands. The hall thundered with their approval. Long years had passed since the Vindrasi had gone to war.
Only two people did not join in the wild enthusiasm. Aylaen stood with her hands at her side, her fists clenched. Garn, too, was somber. He said something to her, but she refused to look at him.
The Torgun gathered around Skylan, offering their condolences on his loss and vowing their support for his cause. The young warriors crowded near, vying with each other, each hoping they would be chosen to go on this journey that would be celebrated for generations in story and song.
Skylan turned away. He was in a dark mood, and he wanted them all to just leave him alone. He didn’t know why he was upset. All was going well. His people believed him. His lie had been a success. But perhaps that was the problem. He had failed to save those he had pledged to protect, and now he was using them to gain what he wanted. He was like the craven warrior on the field of battle who hides beneath the corpses of his fallen comrades, praying his enemies do not find him.
Garn rested his hand on Skylan’s arm.
“You don’t look well,” he said. “You should have Treia tend your head wound.”
“I don’t want some Bone Priestess praying over me,” Skylan said. “I’m tired. I’m going home.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Garn offered.
“I don’t need a guide.”
“I thought you might need a friend,” Garn said quietly.
Skylan shook his head. “I can find my own way home.”
He bade good night to his father and took his leave, walking out the door of the hall just as another man was walking in.
“What’s this?” the man said heartily. “A celebration! I seem to have come at the right time!”
Skylan stopped dead. The man was Raegar. His eyelid flickered in a wink. He shoved past Skylan and entered the hall.
“Norgaard Ivorson!” Raegar shouted. “Even after all these years, I would know you anywhere! Let me embrace you, brother!”
Norgaard stared at the stranger, mystified; then he gasped. “Can it be Raegar?”
“The one and the same!” Raegar roared, grinning. “I have come home.”
Treia knew Skylan was lying. The others were so gullible, swallowing that silly tale about giants. She didn’t know why he had lied, but she could guess. It was to cover his crime and Draya’s. The fact that between them they had conspired to murder Horg. Treia didn’t know how. She didn’t have proof. She had only suspicions. Once she knew for certain, she would go before the Kai, expose them both. The Kai would be shocked, of course, but they would also be grateful. So grateful they would choose Treia to be the new Kai Priestess.
Before now, Treia had never considered aspiring to such heights. Before now, she had known she didn