Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [115]
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. I have to tell them what they want to know.”
“And you won’t tell me why.”
“You have to trust me, Skylan,” Aylaen said in a low voice. “You do trust me, don’t you?”
“You know I do—”
“Then tell me the secret.”
Skylan wanted to think, an idea was gnawing at his mind. “Have you seen this spiritbone? Do you know where it is being kept?”
“Treia knows,” said Aylaen. She stared off into the east where the faint light of the rising sun was causing the stars to fade. “She has seen it. Treia told me the spiritbone is in a vault in the Shrine protected by Aelon. No unbeliever can enter that shrine. Aelon will strike him down.”
But anyone wanting to summon the dragon would have to take the spiritbone out of the Shrine. Skylan’s excitement grew. He could see the hand of Vindrash bringing all the threads together. There was just one problem.
“I do trust you, Aylaen,” said Skylan slowly. “I would trust you with my life. And I would tell you the secret of the Vektan dragons—”
She turned to him with an eager smile, her green eyes shining.
Skylan shook his head. “But I don’t know it.”
Aylaen glared at him. “Don’t lie to me, Skylan. Of course, you know the secret! Garn told me you know it!”
“Garn told you?” Skylan repeated, amazed.
Aylaen flushed and bit her lip.
“I don’t remember Garn and I ever talking about Vektan dragons,” Skylan said.
“Well, you must have,” said Aylaen irritably. She avoided his eyes.
And then it all came back to him.
After his return from the disastrous confrontation with the druids and the death of his wife, Draya, her corpse had come to Skylan and forced him to play the dragonbone game. She had begun her turn by throwing down five bones, an unusual move. Skylan had spoken of it to the old wise woman, Owl Mother, who had said perhaps the number itself was significant. Skylan had asked Garn if he knew why the number five should be special.
“All he could think of was that there were five Vektan dragons,” said Skylan. “That was the only time we ever spoke of it. I never said anything to him about knowing the secret to summoning the dragons.”
“Then Draya must have told you,” Aylaen said. “Wives tell their husbands everything.”
“Draya and I . . . weren’t really husband and wife,” said Skylan, ashamed.
“You have to know, Skylan! You have to!” Aylaen said desperately. “Garn said you knew!”
“I’m sorry, Aylaen,” said Skylan earnestly. “For your sake, I wish I did.”
Aylaen studied him intently, and then gave a low moan and buried her face in her hands. “What am I going to do?”
“Aylaen, I know you’re in some sort of trouble. Let me help you. Tell me what Raegar has done to you,” said Skylan. “I’ll confront him. I’ll make him talk. We’ll find a way to take the spiritbone, to steal it back—”
“No!” Aylaen cried, terrified. “No, you mustn’t! You don’t know what would happen if you did! And I can’t tell you.” She seized hold of his arm, dug her nails into his flesh. “Don’t do anything or say anything about this, Skylan, please! This is my problem. It’s my fault. I’m the only one who can fix it. Promise me you won’t say a word to anyone. Swear by Torval, Skylan. Swear!”
Skylan hesitated. “You can tell me, Aylaen.”
“Not this,” she said in hollow tones. “You would hate me forever!”
“That’s not possible,” said Skylan gently. “I love you, Aylaen. I have always loved you—”
“Then if you love me, swear,” Aylaen said in ragged tones. “Give me your promise.”
She took hold of his hands. Her fingers were colder than the fingers of the draugr. “Swear by Torval that you will tell no one what I have told you. Swear by Torval that you will forget everything I’ve said to you!”
“Aylaen, I can’t—”
“Swear!” she said, her voice grating.
“I swear by Torval,” said Skylan, and he put his hand to the amulet. “But you must swear to let me help you.”
“You can’t,” said Aylaen. “No one can help me. You don’t know the terrible thing I have done. Even the gods have turned their backs on me.”
She started to walk away, then looked back at him. “If you remember anything about the Vektia,