Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [79]
CHAPTER
3
By the time Draya arrived, the dragonship of the Torgun, with its shallow draft, was very close to shore. The helmsman was maneuvering to bring the Venjekar to within hailing distance. The prow, with its figurehead of the dragon, faced the beach. The dragon’s eyes flamed red. The Dragon Kahg had not manifested himself, yet he was present. In all the long history of the Vindrasi, the dragons had refused to take sides in a clan war. But then, up until now, the dragons had never had provocation.
The morning was still, cloudless. In the breathless air, the waves were little more than rivulets that rolled ashore and then departed with a soft sigh, leaving behind smatterings of foam bubbles. The Sun Goddess glared at them from across the sea. The warriors on the ship and on the beach sweat beneath their heavy armor.
Norgaard stood at the ship’s prow. Beside him was his Bone Priestess, Treia. Draya immediately recognized the young woman’s tall, spare form. Draya had tried very hard to love Treia, but when her affection was met by nothing except sullen, smoldering resentment, she had given up.
Draya had sent Treia back to the Torgun with misgivings. She’d had doubts about how well the bitter young woman would serve her people. Treia was Torgun, however, and it was her right to return to her people upon the death of the old Bone Priestess.
Now Treia stood in a place of honor, proudly wearing the spiritbone around her neck. Draya was glad for Treia’s sake that the Dragon Kahg had answered her summons. Perhaps this would give the young woman needed confidence, strengthen her belief in herself and in the gods.
No one had started talking yet. The ship was not quite close enough. Men on both sides needed to be able to hear each other clearly, so that there could be no claim of misunderstanding. Horg stood at his ease on the beach. He appeared relaxed, confident, and was even joking with some of his cronies. As Kai Priestess, Draya’s place was at Horg’s side, as Treia stood beside her own Chief.
Draya took up a position on top of a sand dune, deliberately choosing the highest point on the beach. The people had their backs to her. They were watching the dragonship and did not notice her. None of the Heudjun knew she was there. Only the gods saw her.
Her gaze went to the Venjekar. A young man had come to join Norgaard and Treia at the prow. He rested his hand on Norgaard’s shoulder and said something to him, and Draya recognized Skylan, Norgaard’s son. She had not seen the young man in years, but she had heard many tales about him, and she regarded him with interest.
The young man was the clan’s War Chief, now that his father’s injury had left the elder man incapacitated. She had heard stories of Skylan’s prowess and courage in battle. She had also heard—from Horg—that Skylan was wild, reckless, and headstrong. She wondered where the truth lay. Probably somewhere in the middle.
The dragonship was in position now. The Torgun lowered the heavy stone weight that would anchor it. Horg began the conversation. Draya shifted her gaze back to him.
Horg took the role of the injured party, demanding to know why the Torgun had come in a belligerent and warlike state to Heudjun shores. The Heudjun had no quarrel with their clansmen, but if the Torgun wanted a fight, they could see for themselves that the Heudjun would be happy to accommodate them.
Leaning on his crutch, gripping the rail to steady himself against the rocking motion of the ship, Norgaard responded. The Torgun had been attacked by a large army of ogres, he said. The Torgun had kindled the beacon fire, asking their kinsmen for help to fight the foe. As Chief of Chiefs of the Vindrasi, Horg had sworn a sacred oath to take all the clans to war should any one clan be threatened. Horg had sworn vows of brotherhood to the Torgun. Why had he broken these vows?
Draya had known Norgaard for many years. She liked and admired him. She always made it a point to converse privately with him when he came to the annual