Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [138]
Catching sight of Skylan, Wulfe begged for help. Skylan shook his head and stood with his arms folded, watching, until Aylaen finally decreed that the boy was as clean as he was ever going to be and let him loose.
Wulfe cast Skylan a bitter glance as he dashed past him. Skylan walked over to Aylaen, who was climbing out of the creek, as wet as the boy.
“I need to ask you something about the spiritbone—”
“Did you remember the secret of the Vektan dragon?” Aylaen asked eagerly.
“No,” said Skylan, “but I have been thinking about it and I believe I do know the secret. I don’t know I know it.”
Aylaen shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Did Treia tell you how the Southlanders managed to find this spiritbone?” Skylan asked. “This isn’t the Vektan spiritbone the ogres stole from us, is it?”
“No, it is a different one. I was told”—Aylaen paused, seemed to be choosing her words carefully—“that the god Sund gave the spiritbone to Aelon. I didn’t believe it at first, but I’ve thought about it, and I fear it’s true.”
Skylan was silent, waiting for her to continue.
“You know how I have visions sometimes,” Aylaen said awkwardly. “Visions of the gods . . . Treia always scoffed at my visions. She said they were only dreams. But they’re not dreams, Skylan.”
Aylaen glared at him defiantly, daring him to challenge her. He remained silent, and after a pause, she went on, sounding defensive.
“Dreams are rambling. Everything is gray and black and nothing makes sense. But my visions are bright and filled with light and color. I remember them clearly. I can hear every word. I was with the gods in Torval’s Hall. The gods had returned from battle. They carried their shields and weapons. And one of them was missing. The God of Stone, Sund.”
Skylan interrupted. “The druid told me that someone powerful sent the fury to kill me. Perhaps it was Sund.”
Aylaen thought this over. “But that doesn’t make sense. If Sund gave Aelon the Vektan spiritbone, he must want the priests to be able to summon the dragon. Which means he would want to keep you alive because you know the secret.”
“You’re right,” Skylan admitted, stymied.
“Unless . . .” Aylaen paused.
“Unless what?”
“Unless there’s something about the secret itself. Sund is the only god who can see into the future. That’s what Vindrash meant when she said the other gods were now blind. What if Sund gave our enemies the Vektan bone for a reason, but not for the reason we think. Not for the reason they think . . .”
Aylaen grabbed hold of Skylan and gave his arm a shake. “You have to remember, Skylan! You have to! When we know the secret, we’ll have the answer to this mystery.”
“A mystery that belongs to the gods,” said Skylan gloomily. “Perhaps there is no answer.” He sighed, then said, with a rueful smile, “At least one good thing has come out of this. You are talking to me.”
Aylaen flushed crimson and hurriedly let go her hold of him.
“I know you can never forgive me for Garn’s death,” he added. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I can never forgive myself. But I hope you don’t hate me—”
“I was angry, Skylan,” said Aylaen with a bleak sigh. “I was filled with rage. I hated you. I hated the gods. I hated Garn because he died and left me. Now I hate only myself. I’ve done something terrible, Skylan. Worse than you can imagine.”
Drowning in misery, she was reaching for help. She was on the verge of telling him. He waited, not moving, scarcely daring even to breathe lest he frighten her.
“Skylan Ivorson!” Zahakis’s shout rang through the camp.
“Damn!” said Skylan.
“You better go,” said Aylaen.
“We’ll talk later,” he said, and she nodded, but he knew she wouldn’t.
Zahakis had brought Treia along with him. Skylan was leaving the compound when Treia entered it. She did not look at Skylan, but swept past him.
“What is she doing here?” Skylan asked.
“She said she wanted to speak to her stepfather and the others,” said Zahakis.
“What about?” Skylan was suspicious, alarmed.
Zahakis shrugged. “I neither