Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [70]
And now it was going to be his.
The shaman drew a knife and lopped off the top half of the gourd. Mumbling the words to his spell—or at least what he hoped were the words to the spell—he scooped up the dead godlord’s blood in the gourd and flung the blood into Skylan’s face. Somewhat to his amazement, the shaman saw the spell work. The young human was paralyzed, unable to move. The shaman reached out, plucked the Vektan Torque from Skylan’s frozen fingers, and turned and ran for the sea.
Disaster struck so swiftly that the Torgun had no idea, at first, that disaster had struck at all. Elated by their victory, the men laughed out loud to see the ogre shaman fling blood on Skylan and then run off, his feathers flapping around his bony knees.
Norgaard was not laughing.
“Stop him! He has the torque!” Norgaard thundered.
Garn saw the flash of gold in the shaman’s hand, and he realized what had happened. He gave a shout and dashed down the hill in pursuit. Torgun laughter changed to curses as the others joined Garn in his frantic chase.
Ogres could move fast when there was need. Terrified of the dragon, the ogres had surged through the water and were swarming up ladders to board their ships. By the time the shaman reached his ship, his fellow ogres had already pulled up the ladder and were raising the sail. They lowered a rope, and one of the godlords helped drag the shaman aboard.
As Garn and his men reached the sea, the ogre sails caught the wind. The outraged Torgun flung off their armor and plunged into the waves, intending to swim to their dragonship and sail after the ogres in pursuit. The Torgun learned then, if they had not learned before, that ogres were not stupid. Those waiting onshore cried out in anger and dismay to see clouds of smoke rise from the Venjekar, accompanied by orange tongues of flame. Unable to steal the dragonship, the ogres had set it ablaze.
“Kahg!” Norgaard bellowed at the dragon, who was circling above them, glaring at the ogres. “Go after them! Sink them! Burn them!” He jabbed his finger at the departing ogres.
The Dragon Kahg only shook his head and continued to fly above them in gloomy circles.
“He cannot,” said Treia. “The Dragon Kahg fears that if he attacks, the ogres will destroy the Vektan Torque. He dares not risk it. According to the dragon, the ogres spoke the truth, at in least part. There was a great battle in heaven, though only one of the gods, Desiria, was slain. Unfortunately, she was the Goddess of Life. With her death, we have no ability to heal.”
Norgaard stared at the woman, unable to grasp the enormity of what she was saying. Bewildered and still angry, he lashed out at her. “You are awfully calm about this, Priestess!”
Treia shrugged. “I am just glad to know it wasn’t my fault.”
Having lost the chase, Garn returned to Skylan, who remained spellbound, unable to move. Taking off his helm, Garn dipped it in the seawater. He washed the blood from Skylan’s face, and the spell was shattered.
“Get out of my way!” Skylan cried, almost knocking Garn down. “I’m going after the torque.”
“Skylan, stop,” said Garn. “The Venjekar is on fire. There’s nothing you can do.”
“I can swim!” Skylan said, wrestling with his friend. “I’ll swim around the world if I have to—”
“We cannot recover the torque,” Garn said swiftly. “But we can avenge its loss. And we can avenge our dead,” he added with a grim glance at the bodies strewn over the bloody battleground.
Skylan relaxed. His muscles twitched. His lips compressed. His blue eyes met Garn’s, and he spat a single word, “Horg!”
BOOK
2
THE VUTMANA
CHAPTER
1
The Norns spin the threads of our wyrds on the day of our birth. This does not mean that a man’s wyrd—or a woman’s—cannot be changed. Each man’s wyrd is affected by the wyrds of others, when their threads cross his. Not even the gods remain untouched.
The morning the Torgun fought for their lives against the ogres, their clansmen, the Heudjun, gathered at Torval’s