Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [136]
“Where were you?” Raegar asked testily. “Where did you go?” He added, scowling, “You weren’t with the other priestesses. I tried to find you—”
“I went to pray. So much is at stake for us, my love,” Treia answered. “I felt the need to take my cares to the god.”
Raegar opened his mouth and then closed it again. He couldn’t very well chastise her for praying.
“Tell me what happened,” Treia said. “What did I miss?”
Raegar was glad to have a chance to talk about the episode. He explained how the fury had attacked Skylan, how the fiend could melt iron with a look from her bleeding eyes, how she possessed the strength of twenty men.
“It was our prayers to Aelon that drove the creature away,” he said angrily. “But did the rabble notice that? No! They swarmed onto the field, lauding Skylan and the Torgun as heroes! They are now the darlings of Sinaria.”
The slaves heaved on the ropes and the boulder started to rise. One of them slipped, however, losing his grip on the rope, and the boulder crashed to the ground. Raegar kicked the offending slave and ordered them all to start over. He walked back over to where Treia was standing, observing the proceedings.
“Some god must love that whoreson Skylan,” Raegar continued in low and bitter tones. “He survives assassination, not once, but twice.”
Treia wrapped her hands around his arm, snuggled up against him. “He won’t survive a third.”
Raegar snorted. “There won’t be a third. The Priest-General is already furious with me as it is. Skylan must live! He is the only one who knows the ritual—”
“Not the only one,” said Treia. “Not anymore.”
Raegar looked down at her, startled. He was about to ask her what she meant, then he realized that the center of the Para Dix field was probably not the best place to be holding this conversation.
The slaves managed to haul the boulder into position and looked to Raegar for further orders. He curtly ordered them to start picking up refuse from the field. He led Treia to a shadowy, secluded area beneath the grandstand.
“Did Aylaen find out the secret?” he asked.
“We no longer need Aylaen,” said Treia calmly. “We no longer need Skylan.”
“Then who knows the ritual?” Raegar demanded.
“I do, my love,” said Treia.
He stared at her, amazed.
“I can summon the Vektan dragon,” Treia continued. “I can repel the ogre invasion.”
“But how did you find out?” Raegar asked, bewildered. “Who told you?”
“Aelon, my love,” said Treia. “Who else?”
“Aelon! Of course! A miracle!” Raegar cried fervently, embracing her. “Praise Aelon’s name!”
“Praise Aelon’s name,” Treia repeated. She nestled into his arms. “You no longer need to keep Skylan alive.”
“We’ll get rid of the whole bloody lot of them,” said Raegar. “Except Aylaen, of course.”
Treia put her arms around her lover and pressed her head against his chest so that he could not see her smile.
CHAPTER
6
* * *
BOOK THREE
Practice for the Para Dix was called off the next day to allow the players to recover. Skylan was up early checking on the wounded. He was particularly worried about Farinn, who had been blinded by the fury, and was relieved to find that the quiet young man was slowly recovering his eyesight.
They shared a meal of bread and dried meat, all except Bjorn, who was still ill from the effects of the snake’s poison. Sigurd and the others discussed the fury, speculating on where she might have gone, hoping it was a far distance away. Skylan said nothing to anyone about what the druid had told him, about someone powerful wanting him dead.
The warriors were strong in their praise of Aylaen and talked of the sword she had used to drive the fury away. A magical sword, they said, blessed by Vindrash. Too bad the priests had taken it from her, but not surprising.
Aylaen responded to their praise with a wan smile and left the group