Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [227]
“Am I that sword?” Skylan asked in wonder.
Vindrash laughed. The universe rang with her laughter. Her laugh made the stars tremble and silenced the ocean’s roar. She bent her dragon head on her curved neck, darting toward Skylan, the fangs glistening and her reptile tongue dancing. He fell back before her, cringing.
“You? A sword of the gods?” Vindrash said scornfully. “You are a knife to gut fish!”
Skylan flushed at the insult. Lowering his head to avoid the goddess’s mocking eyes, he saw that Garn’s hand had slipped from the handle of his axe. The body was stiffening, the muscles growing rigid. Skylan pressed his hand over Garn’s cold flesh, trying to shape it around the handle of the axe.
Garn’s eyes opened. He gazed up at Skylan.
“Look to the south!” he said urgently.
Skylan dropped the hand, sprang back. Had yet another draugr come to haunt him?
“Look to the south!” Garn insisted.
Skylan turned his head.
Winged serpents, silver and shining, huge as rivers, slid through the night, their bodies masking the stars. The serpents were seven in number, and they came from the south, their bodies rippling like silver ribbon. Their slitted eyes glowed with flame, and the fire of their terrible purpose was aimed at Vindrash.
Skylan recalled Vindrash saying she had been hiding from her foes. Foes who had now found her. His hand reached for his sword.
“Goddess!” Skylan cried, and pointed.
The Dragon Goddess saw her danger. She roared her defiance and shouted for help. The Sea Goddess, nursing her anger, refused to do battle. The Sun Goddess fled to the other side of the world. The moon vanished behind a cloud. The stars disappeared. The waves diminished, dwindled to frightened ripples.
Vindrash faced this terrible foe alone.
The war was not of Skylan’s making. He could say it was none of his concern. He was angry at the gods. Torval had reviled him. Vindrash had mocked him. Akaria had nearly drowned him. Aylis had scorched him. The foe they fought must be terrible, for even the gods had fled. Skylan would do well to follow their example.
Skylan was suddenly ashamed. He was ashamed of the cowardly gods. He was ashamed of himself. He did not know who or what these dread serpents were. He knew only that they meant to destroy Vindrash. And by attacking his goddess, they attacked him.
Vindrash spread her wings and sprang into the air to face her foes that were diving down on her from the clouds. Scarcely knowing what he was doing, thinking only that he would not be left on the ground to watch the battle in the skies, Skylan jumped upon the pyre and seized hold of the dragon’s clawed hind foot.
Vindrash stared down in astonishment to see Skylan clinging desperately to a massive claw with one hand. He held Blood Dancer in the other. She had no time to speak, for her foes were closing on her rapidly. She seemed to smile in grim approval, however, and then she twitched her leg and flung Skylan up amongst the stars.
He hung in the dark sky for a terrifying moment, watching the sea and the shore turning beneath him, and then he landed upon a sandy beach beneath chalk-white cliffs. He recognized this place. He had been here before, though he could not remember when or where it was.
The dragon flew to meet the serpents, breathing fire and lightning and lashing at them with her ripping claws. Skylan heard a shout and turned to see Torval come striding down from the north, roaring in anger and swinging his massive battle axe.
Hearing Torval’s challenge, three of the serpents broke off the fight with the dragon and swarmed down to do battle with the god. Torval was no longer the strong warrior who had fought and bested the Great Dragon Ilyrion. He was an old man, the same old man Skylan had met cooking fish by the shore. His hair was long and gray, his beardless chin grizzled. His face was seamed and creased and wrinkled like the folds of mountains, the crevices