Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [25]
Except for a splitting headache, Skylan felt no different. He was disappointed and angered. All this fear and discomfort for nothing, and now he was bound by his word to do menial labor for this crazy old crone—
The magic burned him like a cauterizing iron, searing his flesh. He tried to bear the agony like a warrior, but he couldn’t manage. He fell onto the floor, writhing with pain, and finally passed out.
He woke, choking on something, to find Owl Mother bending over him. Seeing he was conscious, she reached into his mouth to pluck out a wad of cloth.
“So you wouldn’t swallow your tongue,” she told him.
Skylan looked nervously about for the wyvern. The beast was gone. He cast a glance at the tapestry and saw it was closed again. Relieved, he sank back on the floor, drawing in welcome breaths, and realized, suddenly, that he was no longer in pain. Sitting up, he examined his wound in the firelight.
Owl Mother had washed off the blood while he’d been unconscious. The wound had closed, leaving a long jagged weal that was tender to the touch. He no longer felt weak. Elated, he jumped to his feet and immediately regretted the sudden movement. The wound still hurt when he put his weight on his leg. He would in the future continue to rely on Desiria’s blessing. But at least he would be strong enough to slay ogres in the morning.
“Thank you, Owl Mother,” he said.
Pleased and grateful, he kissed her weathered cheek.
Owl Mother chuckled and shook her finger at him. “Don’t try to seduce me now. I don’t have time. You had best be going or you’ll be late.”
Skylan looked out the dwelling’s single window and was startled to see darkness. Night had fallen. Stars shone brightly.
“We are having a great feast tonight, Owl Mother,” said Skylan. “I killed a wild boar, and we are roasting it. I would be honored if you came.”
“I’m not much of a meat eater these days,” Owl Mother said, picking up a basin filled with water. “I can’t digest it.”
“Let me carry that,” Skylan offered, taking the basin from her and carrying it to the door. He tossed the water, stained red with his blood, out onto the grass.
“There will be a battle tomorrow,” said Skylan as he prepared to take his leave. “We will win it, of course, but you may not be safe here. You should go into the hills.”
Owl Mother grinned and jerked a thumb to indicate the corner screened by the tapestry.
“My friends will take care of me,” she said complacently. “You should concern yourself with yourself, young Skylan.”
“They are only ogres,” said Skylan.
“Only ogres.” Owl Mother smiled derisively. “The thread of your wyrd snaps tonight, Skylan.”
He stared at her, shocked. When a man’s wyrd snapped, he died.
She poked him in the chest with her finger. “Tomorrow your wyrd is spun anew. Try not to screw it up.”
She left him, disappearing into the kitchen. He paused a moment, wondering what she had meant. It made no sense.
“Crazy old crone,” he muttered.
“I almost forgot,” Owl Mother yelled at him. “You must honor my mysteries, young man. Tell no one what happened here.”
“I will not, Owl Mother,” said Skylan. He had no intention of ever thinking about it again, let alone telling anyone. He clasped the silver axe. “I swear by Torval.”
“Torval!” Owl Mother cackled. “He’s got his own problems. Speaking of which, you had better leave now. The wheel turns.”
Bright orange light flared in the night sky.
The Torgun had lit the beacon fire.
CHAPTER
5
In the lord city of Vindraholm, across the Gymir Fjord from the Torgun town of Luda, Draya, Kai Priestess of the Vektia, kneeled before the statue of the Dragon Goddess, Vindrash, and in a tear-choked voice beseeched the goddess to answer her.
The Great Hall of the Gods in Vindraholm embodied the soul of the Vindrasi nation. The