Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [126]
“You are a woman of few words, Treia Adalbrand. I like that. You can’t imagine how the other Bone Priestesses used to bore me.”
The face of the god blazed in the darkness like a lump of charcoal with orange and red and yellow flame flaring through the cracks, shooting from the mouth, and glowing in the eyes. His hair was fire. He had no body, no limbs, no trunk. His heat beat on her, seemed to suck the air from the hold. She gasped and shrank away to keep from being burned.
“I find it strange that you pray to me, since your allegiance is now to another god.” Hevis paused. The flame eyes seared her heart. “A god whose foul name will not pollute my mouth. A god who is my enemy.”
Treia trembled. A god of lies and deceit might be won over by the truth. Or he might destroy her. She had to take the risk. Sweat beaded on Treia’s forehead and ran down her face and trickled down her breasts.
“My allegiance is not to Aelon or any god, great Hevis,” said Treia in a voice that was barely above a whisper. She raised her eyes. “My allegiance is to myself.”
His fire flared.
“A truthful response. What do you want of me?”
The god was detached, uncaring. He was here out of curiosity, nothing more. He would soon grow more interested, of that she was certain.
“I know a secret,” Treia said. “A valuable secret. I am here to share it with you.”
Hevis scoffed. His heat scorched her. “You, a mortal, claim to know something we gods do not?”
“I do,” she said with more confidence than she felt.
“Tell me and I will be the judge,” said Hevis.
“I risk my life bringing this secret to you. I want something in return.”
Fire raged around her and Treia feared she would die. She smelled the sickening odor of burnt hair, her own hair, and saw flaming ash dropping on her robes, burning holes in the cloth.
“I must first decide if this secret is worth the price of your miserable life,” said Hevis. “What do you know?”
Treia cowered before him and gasped out, “The god, Sund, has given Aelon one of the spiritbones of the Five Vektia, one of the spiritbones of your fathers!”
The flaring light of Hevis dimmed, the hold cooled. Treia sighed in relief. She was right. The gods of the Vindrasi did not know that Sund was a traitor.
“How do you discover this?” Hevis asked.
“The priests of Aelon showed the spiritbone to me. I have seen it, touched it.”
“How do you know it is one of the five?”
Treia described the spiritbone, its golden setting, its beautiful emeralds.
“Yes,” said Hevis, and his voice was bitter. “That is the spiritbone given to Sund for safekeeping. You say that Sund gave it to Aelon? Voluntarily? What was his reason?”
“Sund looked into the future and saw that Aelon would win the war. Torval and the rest of you would be defeated. Sund gave the spiritbone to Aelon in exchange for his own survival.”
Hevis’s flames hissed and crackled, but not in anger. He seemed to be laughing. “Torval loves Sund. This will break his heart and is indeed valuable information. What do you want in return, Treia Adalbrand? Request what you will. I am in a generous mood.”
“Teach me the ritual to summon the Vektan dragon.”
“Why do you want to know?” Hevis asked, flames flickering.
“So that I may use it to command the dragon to destroy the ogres, who are coming to invade this land,” said Treia.
“Perhaps I do not know this ritual.”
“You know it,” said Treia. “Long ago you helped a Kai Priestess summon the dragon.”
“You are not a Kai Priestess.”
“Draya is dead and left no successor,” said Treia. “In this time of turmoil, it may be long before a Kai is chosen, if ever.”
“You know the history of the Kai Priestess. You know she could not control the dragon. The Vektan went berserk and destroyed entire villages, killing many hundreds of your own people. You must prove to me you can control the Vektan dragon, Treia Adalbrand. I dare not risk teaching you otherwise.”
“Tell me what I must do,” Treia said.
“You must prove to me that you are strong-minded. You must show me that you will not let emotions sway you. Only then will I deem you capable