Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [82]
“I was afraid of Horg and what he would do to me,” Draya replied. Shoving up the sleeve of her robe, she showed him the bruise marks. “I was ashamed.”
Draya lifted her head, stood tall and proud.
“As Kai Priestess, I swear by the blessed Vindrash that I am telling the truth.” She raised her hand to touch the silver dragon amulet she wore around her neck. “Norgaard Ivorson, I call upon you to swear to Vindrash that you are telling the truth.”
“I swear by Vindrash,” said Norgaard firmly. “And I swear by Torval, who gave us victory and delivered the ogres into our hands.”
“He is the liar,” Horg cried loudly, “and so is my wife! They’re in this together! She paid the Torgun to steal the torque. You all know the Kai have long been angry that it was taken from them!”
Draya looked at Norgaard and saw a smile touch his lips. There could be only one response to this terrible charge, and she realized suddenly that Norgaard had been digging this trap ever since his arrival. Horg had not merely stumbled into the pit. He had jumped in feetfirst.
“The honor of the Torgun has been called into question,” Norgaard said. “There is only one way to settle this. I call for the Vutmana! Let the gods be my judge.”
He turned to his warriors. “Are the Torgun prepared to back me in this challenge?”
The warriors answered with a mighty shout that caused the Venjekar to rock in the waves.
“I accept the challenge!” Horg shouted. He glanced around confidently at his warriors. “The honor of the Heudjun is at stake! The Heudjun will back me!”
When the Kai Priestesses had first laid down the Law of the Challenge known as the Vutmana, they had wisely understood that the practice was open to abuse. Unless checked, any ambitious young buck hoping to become a Chief could issue a challenge. A Clan Chief might well find himself forced to spend most of his time fending off rivals.
The Kai had therefore declared a Chief could ask his clansmen to fight with him. For their part, the clansmen of the warrior making the challenge had to be prepared to back up his challenge with their blood. In addition, the challenger had to stake his own wealth on the challenge. If the gods went against him, he would pay a substantial sum to the winner for the insult. Issuing a challenge was thus a very serious matter, not to be undertaken lightly.
Horg was confident. The Heudjun warriors would never back down from a fight, no matter whether they believed him or not.
But long moments passed and no one spoke. Horg turned, glowering, to Sven. “Well? Why do you wait? You are not afraid of these yapping dogs, are you?”
Sven’s lips tightened. He stared grimly at Horg. “I do not know what others will do,” Sven declared. “For myself, I will not fight to save the skin of a man I consider to be a liar, a drunk, and a bully. A man who has brought shame on us all.”
Sven threw down his battle axe. The weapon landed in the sand at Horg’s feet, not far from the ogre’s grisly head.
Horg’s eyes bulged. He seemed to swell with fury. “You do not fight, Sven Teinar, because you are a coward!” Horg glared around at the others. “What about the rest of you? Are all of you craven?”
In answer, Sven’s sons proudly threw down their weapons. Other warriors joined them, tossing their weapons at his feet. Their women cheered and called out support. Horg’s latest concubine clapped her hands wildly.
At last, only Horg’s cronies remained. They held on to their weapons, hedging their bets, but they sidled away from him. None would look at him.
Horg was angry and he was puzzled. He should have kept quiet, but he had drunk a good deal of cider, and the spirits seized hold of his mouth.
“Sons of whores!” he raved. “I saved your sorry arses! Two hundred ogres there were! Two hundred monsters who would have come howling down on you in the night, slitting your throats, raping your women, and burning your homes! I gave them a moldy shinbone, and the ogres sailed away and left you—”
Horg came to a stammering halt. He had just realized what he was saying.
Sven