Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [223]
The Torgun warriors were at first astonished and startled by this unexpected help, but then someone called out that the Sea Goddess had sent the birds to fight for them, and the warriors redoubled their efforts, attacking the giants with renewed vigor. His fear forgotten, Wulfe enjoyed the spectacle, and he began to run around and flap his arms and shriek, playing at being one of the birds.
The Flesh-Spinners were not cowards, but they were bullies. The fight had been fun when they were smashing Ugly Ones into globs of jelly. But now all the giants were wounded, one of their number so seriously that he had very nearly fallen to the ground, which would have been disastrous, for then the evil Ugly Ones would have swarmed him and cut him with their horrid iron. The hordes of squawking, pecking gulls were an added nuisance. The Flesh-Spinners gave up the fight, and wrapping their arms around their injured comrade, they helped him hobble from the field, snapping their fingers angrily at the gulls, who continued to plague them.
Wulfe quit singing and dashing about. Panting for breath, he was pleased with himself and was just thinking he would go find Skylan and tell him what he’d done when someone grabbed hold of him painfully by the hair.
Wulfe thought it was a giant, and he yelped and twisted in a panic. Then he saw that it was Raegar who had hold of him. Raegar and Treia were staring at Wulfe as though he was a snake they’d found coiled up in their path.
“You summoned those birds! You are fae!” Treia hissed the word between her teeth and her lips.
Raegar’s grip tangled in Wulfe’s hair, hurting him.
“He is an imp. He is demon spawn,” said Raegar, glowering. “A child of evil.”
“Then so are you!” Wulfe cried, glowering at Raegar from beneath shaggy bangs. “You use magic! The other night at your house, I saw the strange lights. And you didn’t drown. What you said back in the Hall was a lie—”
Raegar gave Wulfe’s hair a brutal yank. Raegar clapped one hand over Wulfe’s mouth. Grabbing Wulfe around the waist, he hoisted the boy off his feet.
“He was in the Hall. He’s been spying on us,” Raegar said to Treia. “Probably on Skylan’s orders.”
Treia was watching the retreating giants. Now she looked back around.
“He saw us in the Hall?”
“He overheard us, at least,” said Raegar. “You can’t let him go back to camp. He’ll warn Skylan, and my cousin will have time to think up even more lies.”
“What do we do with the wretched little beast?” Treia asked, her lip curling.
“I will take him back with me,” said Raegar.
“But we were going back to camp together,” Treia protested.
“We don’t dare let him loose. I’ll take him back and then—” Raegar bent close to Treia and whispered in her ear.
Treia listened intently, then asked, “And where will you be?”
“Waiting for you, my love,” Raegar said, and, keeping hold of the squirming Wulfe, he kissed Treia. “Waiting to make you my wife. Chief of Chiefs and Kai Priestess.”
She slid her arms around him, returned his kiss hungrily. She yearned near him, wanting more. Raegar gently put her from him. “You had better go. Now that the battle has ended, they will come searching for you. Skylan mustn’t see me. He must have no hint of the doom that is about to befall him.”
Treia gazed at him adoringly, obviously unwilling to leave him. “I will see you soon. . . .”
“You will,” he promised.
Treia gave him one last swift kiss, then turned and, keeping her head lowered, watching where she walked, she headed toward the beach. Raegar stood in the shadows of the scrub trees, holding on to Wulfe and watching Treia.
Wulfe took advantage of the man’s preoccupation to bite him.
“You little bastard!” Raegar swore, and he flung Wulfe onto the ground.
Wulfe was on all fours in an instant, starting to scamper away. Raegar lashed out with his foot, kicked the boy in the midriff, and Wulfe curled up, clutching his stomach and moaning with pain.
“Demon spawn,” Raegar said grimly.
He lashed out with his foot again.