Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [61]
“It is time to summon the dragon.”
“I need seawater,” said Treia composedly. “Kahg is a water dragon. I need seawater to summon him.”
Skylan gaped at her and extended his arm in a sweeping gesture. “Two hundred ogres stand between us and the sea!”
Treia blinked at him. “No one told me where we would be fighting. I assumed we would be by the sea.”
“Skoval’s balls!” Skylan swore furiously.
“Don’t yell at her, Skylan!” Aylaen cried. “She’s nervous and frightened. This is her first battle.”
“And probably her last,” Skylan returned grimly. “The last for all of us unless she can summon Kahg!”
“Sister,” said Aylaen suddenly, “can’t you use earth—?”
Treia flashed her a furious glance, and Aylaen stammered and fell silent.
“Your sister’s suggestion is a good one, Priestess,” said Norgaard, limping over to join the conversation. “You can use earth to form the dragon. I’ve seen it done. Possibly, this being your first battle, you did not think of that.”
Treia’s lips pressed together tightly. Her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps.”
“I will take the Dragon Kahg in any form, Priestess,” Skylan said through gritted teeth. “I don’t care if he’s made from mother’s milk! Just summon the dragon, and be quick about it! The sun is risen.”
Sunrise was the traditional time for the Vindras to commence battle. No one fought at night. The warriors wanted Torval to be witness to their courage and bravery.
“I have to go—,” Skylan said.
“I’m coming with you,” said Garn.
Skylan stopped him. “No, my brother. You stay here to guard Treia and Aylaen. If the ogres break through, you must help them escape.”
Garn frowned. “Let one of Norgaard’s men do that. I will take my place with you in the shield-wall as always.”
Skylan shook his head. “The bodyguards’ duty is to my father.”
He lowered his voice, drew Garn to one side. “You are the only man I trust with Aylaen’s life, my brother. Promise me. Swear by Torval, you will keep her safe. And her sister,” he added as an afterthought.
Skylan knew he was asking his friend to make a sacrifice. If the ogres broke through the lines, Garn would have to flee with the women. He would not be there to avenge his friends. He would not have the honor of dying in battle.
“I swear,” Garn said at last.
Skylan gripped his friend by the arm, then went to take his place in the shield-wall, in the second row with the veteran warriors. He would gain glory this day, smashing headlong into the enemy’s ranks, driving through to do single combat with the godlord who had taken the sacred torque.
“Hand me a spear,” said Skylan. Several men thrust their spears forward. He clasped one, hefted it.
“For Torval!” he roared, and he hurled the spear at the ogre lines, throwing it as far as he could. The spear sailed over the heads of the ogres in an arc, thudding into the ground behind them. Thus he dedicated his enemy to the god.
“For Torval!” the Torgun warriors cried.
The ogres responded, hurling their spears and chanting something that sounded like, “Raja Raj, Raja Raj!”
The ogres launched what seemed a veritable forest of spears.
Skylan drew his sword. The warriors in the front ranks lifted their shields and braced themselves for the onslaught. Some landed short. Some flew long. Some found their targets. Near Skylan, a warrior named Gregor screamed horribly. He lay on the ground, twisting about on a spear that had gone through his belly and pinned him, like a pig on a spit. Skylan turned away. No one could do anything for Gregor, not even take time to end his suffering with a merciful sword thrust. The fallen had to take care of themselves. No man dared break the shield-wall.
“Hold firm!” Skylan cried, seeing some of the excited young warriors starting to lurch forward. “Make them come to us!”
Under most circumstances, his army would have rushed at the enemy. The ogres would have rushed at them, both armies meeting with a bone-crushing crash in the middle. Garn had suggested this alternative strategy during the Council meeting. The Vindrasi would utilize the dip in the ground, forcing the ogres to