Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [45]
“A War Chief must also put the good of the people above his own needs and wants. Your wound may be healed, but it obviously causes you pain, and you are weak from loss of blood. No man would say that you were shirking your duty if you asked someone who is strong and fit to undertake this.”
“Like yourself?” Skylan returned. “So that you can grab all the glory?”
Garn made no reply to Skylan’s remark. He folded Skylan’s tunic and placed it on the table, then bent down to pick up his trousers.
“Garn, I’m sorry,” said Skylan, resting his hand on his friend’s arm. “I didn’t mean what I said. It’s just—I am the only one I can trust.”
Skylan wasn’t being arrogant. Even weak and wounded, he considered himself the best man for the job. But Garn knew something about Skylan that Skylan would never admit—Skylan could not bear seeing another man lay claim to the glory. Never mind that if Skylan failed, the Torgun would not have another chance to gain the spiritbone. The Torgun would pay for Skylan’s failure with their lives. Garn could have said all this to his friend, but he knew what Skylan would say in return. The very words he was saying now.
“Trust me, my brother. Torval is with me. I cannot fail.” Skylan went on issuing orders. “Tell the Bone Priestess to meet me in the Hall of Vindrash—”
“No,” said Garn. “Not the Hall.”
“Why not the Hall?” Skylan asked, pulling off his shirt. He looked out the neck hole, startled. “The Hall is the most suitable place for the ceremony.”
“And that will be the first place the ogres will come looking when they find the spiritbone missing,” said Garn.
“Of course, you’re right,” Skylan said. He smiled at his friend. “You see. I do listen to you. Tell Treia I will bring the spiritbone to her dwelling.”
Garn breathed a sigh of relief. He had been fairly certain Skylan was too excited to see the flaw in the argument, and he’d been right. The ogres, being strangers in this part of the world, had no way of knowing where the Hall of Vindrash was located.
“I’ll go talk to the Bone Priestess now,” Garn offered. “Make certain she is prepared.”
“A good idea,” said Skylan. “And if Aylaen is there, tell her I am thinking of her. I will carry her love with me as a talisman.”
Garn flinched and muttered something. Fortunately, Skylan was not paying attention.
Skylan tossed his shirt onto the table. His strong young body was seamed with marks of his valor. The scar on his thigh was only one of many.
Garn smiled, moved by true affection for his friend and admiration for his courage. Whatever Skylan’s faults might be, cowardice was not one of them.
“You are the best person for this mission,” said Garn.
Skylan clapped his hand on Garn’s arm. “You think too much, my brother. Thinking is good, but sometimes acting is better. Don’t worry. Torval is with me.”
Is he? Garn wondered as Skylan left the hall, accompanied by the blessings of his father and his comrades.
Or does Torval also lie in pieces on the floor?
CHAPTER
10
The ogre ships rocked gently in the dark water of the bay. The wind continued to freshen. The sea was choppy and restless. Sklyan watched in scorn as the ungainly ogre ships, silhouetted against the light of Akaria’s silver lantern, wallowed about like grunting hogs in muck, bobbing up and down one minute and pitching side-to-side the next. By contrast, the Torgun dragonship rode the waves with a graceful motion, dipping and gliding as the waves slid beneath its keel. The dragon’s fierce head reared up defiantly, dominating the gaggle of ogre ships that surrounded it.
Sklyan frowned at Akaria. He could have done without her moonlight, and he scanned the skies in search of clouds. A few drifted across the stars. Skylan tracked their progress, hoping they would cross the moon, douse the lantern’s silver glow.
“Give me the knife,” Skylan whispered, and Bjorn silently handed over an extremely sharp thin blade used for gutting fish.
Tonight, thought Skylan, it will be used for gutting ogres.