Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [155]
Raegar stared at her, at first uncomprehending. Then he drew in a deep breath of exultation.
“You are certain?”
Skylan, the ogre, and Aylaen entered the catacombs.
They would all die. Aylaen would die. Treia breathed a sigh of relief. “I am certain,” she said. “Tell Semelon we are taking the carriage back to the Temple. She should remain here to make certain that Skylan and the others do not leave the catacombs alive. If Skylan finds out about the Vektan dragon, he will try to stop us.”
“But what about Aylaen!” Raegar turned back toward the catacombs. “Where is she? Did she go inside?”
“I am afraid she did,” said Treia. “There is nothing we can do for her now, my love.”
“But she is your sister,” said Raegar, agonized. “We can’t send her to her death. If I went after her, I could save her.”
“There is not time!” said Treia, seizing hold of him. “How long before the ogres come ashore?”
“Ogres do not fight at night. They will attack with the dawn.”
“Think of all we have to do before now and then! We must go to the shrine, tell the Priest-General, enter the storeroom, and retrieve the bone of the Vektia. Then we must find a suitable location and prepare for the ritual. We should leave now—at once.”
Still Raegar continued to hesitate. “But, Aylaen . . .”
Treia dug her nails into the palms of her hand to keep from slapping him. She was offering him the chance to make history, to be the savior of his people, to gain esteem in the eyes of gods and men, and all he could think of was his own carnal desire.
“The god has given us this chance to save your people, my love,” Treia said. “I know it is hard, but we must make this sacrifice.”
Raegar looked down at her. “I am sorry, Treia. You are right. I will tell Semelon we are leaving.”
Raegar went to speak with Semelon. While they were talking, Treia heard a noise, a rustling in the undergrowth. She turned and saw Wulfe standing there, staring at her with his yellow eyes. He had heard everything! She drew in a hissing breath and was about to make a grab for him when Raegar returned.
“Semelon will wait here. We will send the carriage back for her. What is it, my love?”
Treia looked back. The boy was gone.
It doesn’t matter, she thought. He’ll soon be dead. They’ll all be dead.
Treia took hold of Raegar’s arm and the two hastened from the shrine. He kept his hand on her elbow, guiding her through the tangle of vegetation, the full moon lighting their way. As Raegar lifted Treia into the carriage, she heard Aylaen scream—a shrill wail of pain and terror.
Treia shuddered, then said softly, beneath her breath, “Hevis, accept the sacrifice!”
CHAPTER
11
* * *
BOOK THREE
Skylan ran into the catacombs with Keeper at his side holding a torch in one hand and a war hammer in the other. They could hear in the distance the sounds of battle—the clank of metal hitting metal. But those were the only sounds. The cries and shouts of men under attack had ceased.
“Strange,” said Skylan, and his steps slowed. He came to a halt only a short distance from the bronze door. “I can’t see anything. Can you?”
“Nothing,” said Keeper. “And you are right. It is very strange.”
Skylan was not surprised when Aylaen arrived at his side, her sword in her hand. He had told her to stay behind with Wulfe, and, of course, she had disobeyed.
“Why are you just standing here?” she cried, gesturing into the darkness. “Our friends are fighting in there, maybe dying!”
“If so, it’s a strange sort of battle,” said Skylan.
“What are you talking about?” Aylaen asked.
“Do you hear Sigurd shouting commands? Grimuir yelling at Aki to watch his back?” Skylan stared into the darkness, frowning, then he glanced around. “Where’s Wulfe?”
“He’s outside. He kept yammering about lemures being angry at us.” Aylaen shivered. “Maybe he’s right.”
“I never heard of ghosts wielding swords,” said Keeper.
“We can’t just stand here!” said Aylaen. “I’m going—”
Skylan caught hold of her. “We will all go. But we will go slowly. Whatever is down there, I want to