Bones of the Dragon

by Margaret Weis

  Skylan had another worry, and that was Treia.

  She did not bother to conceal the fact that she thought Skylan was a liar. She did not confront him. She was like a snake, slinking about in the undergrowth, watching his every move, waiting for him to trip over a rock so she could sink her poisoned fangs into him. Skylan avoided her as much as possible, and that was one reason he was leaving for Luda tomorrow, when she was arriving here at Vindraholm for the Kai Moot.

  Alarming news had reached Skylan. Word had it that the Kai were considering Treia for Kai Priestess. If she was thus honored by the gods, he would have to marry her! He took comfort in the fact that she would also be adverse to such a union. She disliked Skylan fully as much as he disliked her. And she had her eyes on his cousin.

  Though Treia had left her stepfather’s house and was living on her own in the lodging of the Bone Priestess, she was yet unmarried and was therefore under Sigurd’s care and protection. Since Sigurd had given up trying to arrange a marriage for her, Treia decided in her own mind that the matter was now up to her. She made no secret of the fact that she had chosen her own future husband, and that her choice was Raegar. He continued to take a marked interest in Treia, singling her out over many other younger and prettier women who were vying to catch the notice of the tall, strong, and well-favored blond-bearded man.

  Though Skylan was certain Treia did not want to be Kai Priestess, he did not trust the gods. Given his broken oath to Torval and the many lies he’d told since, the god might decide to punish Skylan by making this snake his wife. Skylan thought it best to head off danger. When he ended his triumphant journey to introduce himself to the clans, he traveled to Luda to speak to Aylaen.

  “The Kai Moot will be held soon,” he told her. “Treia will be attending. I want you to go with her.”

  Aylaen was going to draw water from a small spring, and Skylan offered to accompany her. The spring cut through a grove of ash, birch, hazel, laurel, and oak trees. Water from this spring was said to have healing properties, and though Treia had remarked scornfully that she did not believe this, her patients did.

  The spring was located deep in the woods, near Owl Mother’s house. Skylan thought back to the time the old crone had magically healed the wound when the boar had gored him. That same day, the ogres had arrived. The time seemed distant and remote, as if it might have happened in some other lifetime. Or to some other person. He remembered, suddenly, what Owl Mother had said to him on that day: The thread of your wyrd snaps tonight. Tomorrow it will be spun anew.

  He was pondering her words and thinking that they had come true and wondering, with a shiver, how she’d known—when he realized that Aylaen was laughing.

  “Did I say something funny?” he demanded irritably. He was not in the mood to be laughed at.

  “Yes,” said Aylaen. “You want me to attend a boring old Kai Moot! Why should I? I’m getting more than enough sleep now, thank you.”

  “I know the meeting will be dull and tedious,” Skylan admitted. He took the bucket from her and knelt down to fill it at the sparkling stream. “But you have to attend. You have to tell them you want to become a Bone Priestess, and you want to do it in a hurry.”

  “But I don’t want to become a Bone Priestess,” Aylaen protested, still laughing. “I’ve seen what Treia has to put up with. People whining and complaining and asking her to do the impossible to make their lives better. I don’t know where she finds the patience.”

  “You have to do this, Aylaen,” Skylan insisted. “This is the only way for you to become Kai Priestess, and that is the only way we can be married.”

  “Skylan, you’re not serious—”

  “Hevis take me if I’m not!” Skylan said, glowering at her. “Why do you insist on mocking me? I am Chief of Chiefs. I want you to be my wife! You will do this, Aylaen. I command it!”

  Aylaen flushed, hot blood rushing to her face. “You may order everyone else about, Skylan Ivorson, but not me! I do what I want and what I want is—”

  “—the same thing I want,” Skylan interrupted her impatiently. “You love me. I know it. Stop teasing me. I am a man now, not a boy. The time for such foolery is passed.”

  “I am not teasing you!” Aylaen said, her rage mounting, burning away reason. “Garn did not want me to tell you, but I have to! The truth is—”

  “Garn!” Skylan exploded. “What has Garn to do with us? Look, if you’re mad because you have to be Kai Priestess, I don’t blame you. The position would be mostly ceremonial.”

  Skylan slid his hand around her waist and drew her close. “You will be spending most of your time raising our sons.” He tried to kiss her.

  “Skylan, let go of me.” Aylaen averted her face, avoided his lips. “I have to be getting home. Mother will be needing my help with supper.”

  Skylan let go of her, but his expression was dark with anger. “I don’t understand you, Aylaen. I know you love me—”

  “—like a brother, Skylan,” she said.

  He glowered at this, but before he could say anything, she turned away and began to walk rapidly down the path, her skirts swishing around her ankles.

  “The Kai would never make me their leader, Skylan,” she said, flinging the words at him over her shoulder. “It would be an insult to all the other Priestesses. Those like my sister, who studied all her life.”

  “It is not up to the Kai,” said Skylan, crashing through the brush after her. They had both forgotten their task. The water bucket remained beside the stream. “The gods make the choice.”

  “You know what I mean,” said Aylaen impatiently.

  “Besides, there is precedence.”

  “Precedence for what?”

  “For making a woman who has never been a Bone Priestess the Kai Priestess.”

  Skylan had known he might be confronted by this very argument, though he had thought it would be raised by the Kai Moot, not by the woman he loved. He had gone to the Talgogroth to discuss the matter.

  “Griselda the Man-Woman. Her deeds of heroism in battle impressed the gods so much, they told the Kai to make her Priestess, and they gave her in marriage to the son of Thorgunnd when he became Chief of Chiefs. Of course, you can’t do what she did. You can’t fight alongside the men—”

  Skylan caught hold of Aylaen, and when she struggled, he clasped her tighter, refusing to let her go. He kissed her cheek and sought her lips.

  “You will be my wife—”

  “Skylan! Don’t!” Aylaen shoved against him. “Let go of me!”

  Skylan’s desire flared inside him, burning his blood. He knew Aylaen wanted him. This show of reluctance was merely maidenly reserve. He pressed her against a tree with his body, while his hands, expert at such work, swiftly unpinned the brooches that held up her dress.

  “Skylan, don’t do this,” she pleaded.

  “You want this, Aylaen. You know you do. We’re as good as married—” His hands slid down the front of her smock. He touched her breasts and groaned and thrust himself against her.

  “Skylan!” someone shouted. “Skylan, where are you? I have a message for you!”

  “It’s only Garn,” Skylan said huskily. He was pulling up her skirts. His need for her was painful, blinding him, like the Madness of Torval. “Keep quiet. He’ll go away.”

  “Here!” Aylaen yelled. “Garn, over here!”

  “Over where?” Garn called. He was close by.

  Angrily, Skylan pushed back away from Aylaen. She hastily pinned the brooches in place and smoothed down her dress. Garn emerged from the shadows of the trees.

  “Here you both are,” he said, smiling and pretending not to notice Aylaen’s flushed face and disheveled clothes and Skylan’s scowl.

  “What do you want?” Skylan demanded surlily.

  “Owl Mother sent me to find you,” said Garn. “She wants to talk to you. Something about a bargain you made with her.”

  “Since you are her errand boy, run back there and tell the crone I don’t have t
ime to deal with the whims of an old woman,” Skylan told him. “Aylaen and I have things to talk about.”

  He put his arm possessively around Aylaen’s waist and dragged her close.

  “You better do as she wants, Skylan,” Aylaen said, her voice shaking. “You shouldn’t make Owl Mother angry.”

  “I’ll stay with Aylaen,” Garn offered.

  Skylan hesitated, seething. He didn’t want to leave, but at the same time, he didn’t want to offend Owl Mother.

  “Very well, I’ll go. Talk some sense into Aylaen while you’re at it, brother,” Skylan told Garn. “She claims she doesn’t want to be Kai Priestess, and that’s the only way we can be married. Make her see reason.”

  He stomped off down the path, angrily shoving aside tree limbs. They could hear him smashing through the undergrowth.

  “Oh, Garn!” Aylaen cried, sagging against him, hiding her face in her hands. “I was so frightened!”

  He put his arm around her. “Hush, I know. I came to look for you. Treia told me you’d gone to the stream.”

  Aylaen looked up at him, blinking back tears. “Did you make up that story about Owl Mother? Oh, Garn, Skylan will find out you lied to him, and then he’ll be furious with you!”

  “He’ll cool off by then. He’ll realize he was wrong. Skylan loves you, Aylaen,” Garn added, soothing her. “He would never do anything to hurt you.”

  “The old Skylan wouldn’t,” said Aylaen. “I don’t know this new Skylan. You didn’t see his face. You have to tell him the truth about us, Garn!”

  “I know,” Garn replied. “I will speak to him when we are on the voyage—”

  Aylaen stared at him. “The voyage! But you’re not going to war! You said you would ask him to leave you in charge when he left. Norgaard’s health is failing. Someone needs to stay behind to guard the village.”

  “I said I would consider asking Skylan, Aylaen,” Garn said gently. “I didn’t say I would.”

  Aylaen’s flush deepened. Her fists clenched, and she struck him on the chest. “You can’t go! I won’t let you! How could you do this to me?”

  “Aylaen—”

  “You will be killed!” She yelled at him in fury, refusing to listen to him. “And if you are, I will die! For I could not bear to live!”

  She kissed him passionately. He kissed her, then pushed her away. “Skylan might see us—”

  “I hope he does!” Aylaen cried fiercely. “I want him to see us! I want the world to see us!”

  She began to sob uncontrollably. Garn took hold of her, stroking her hair and holding her until she quieted. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. He dried the tears from her cheeks.

  Aylaen pressed her cheek against his shoulder and gazed up at him. “You will talk to Skylan. Tell him about us. Tell him we’re going to be married. Tell him you’re not going with him when he sails to war.”

  Garn sighed. “It’s not that simple—”

  “It can be, if you want it to be,” said Aylaen. She drew back, frowning. “You do want us to be married, don’t you?”

  “You know I do. More than anything in the world.” Garn kissed her on the forehead.

  “Then tell that to Skylan,” Aylaen urged.

  “I will,” Garn said, and he added quietly and sadly, almost to himself, “It won’t be that simple.”

  Aylaen heard him, but she pretended not to.

  Two others heard him—Wulfe and the naiad who guarded the spring.

  Wulfe had made friends with all the fae who dwelt in the meadows, the woods, and the waters around the Torgun village. He spent his days roaming the woodlands, visiting with the fae folk. Though he liked Skylan’s people, considering them far easier to live with than the druids, he was much more comfortable among the fae.

  The boy had soon found living on the dragonship with only the dragon for company to be both boring and uncomfortable. The Dragon Kahg was not an amiable companion. He never spoke, and he always glared at Wulfe whenever he came on deck.

  Skylan had not thought it wise to take the strange boy among the Heudjun, who were still getting used to their Chief of Chiefs, and he sent Wulfe to live in his father’s dwelling. But Wulfe did not like the cramped, dark, and smoky house, and he was still a little afraid of the Torgun, who, unlike the druids, were given to strong emotions that they never bothered to hide.

  At first their loud voices had frightened him. The boy had spent a great deal of time shivering beneath a table or hiding in a corner. Eventually he came to see that although the Vindrasi were loud, boisterous, and contentious, they were not dangerous. (Had Wulfe seen them at war, he would have changed his mind and gone away in terror of them.)

  As it was, once he got over his fear, he found he liked the raucous laughter and the singing and round oaths. Best of all, unlike the druids, the Torgun had no interest in trying to educate Wulfe. Skylan had told the boy he had to work to earn his keep. Wulfe was quite willing to do this, and he’d gone to the fields to tend the crops or herd cattle with the other children.

  This had not worked out. The children complained that Wulfe spent all his time talking to himself. (He was talking to the fae, but they did not know that.)

  The boy did have a way with animals, and that, too, proved unfortunate. The sheep tended to follow him about and ended up trampling the crops. Horses came running across the fields when he called, behaving like silly colts when they were around him, lowering their heads to be rubbed and nuzzling his neck. Crows would land on his shoulder and eat grain out of his hand. Meadow larks would sing for him.

  Eventually Wulfe found his own place among the Torgun. The dryads told him about Owl Mother. He sought her out, and the two became fast friends. Owl Mother soon discovered Wulfe’s secrets. Gifted with fae magic herself, Owl Mother had taught Wulfe that while such powers could be used to harm, they were not inherently harmful. Wulfe had to practice, learning how to wield his magic as Skylan wielded his sword. The rest of the Torgun people thought the boy was crazy, but they considered him harmless. They did not know there was a dark side to Wulfe. They did not know about his daemons. Thus far, he’d had the strength to fight them off, a strength that rose out of his love for Skylan.

  Wulfe only vaguely remembered his father, whose image was a mixture of the wolf he’d been by day and the human he’d become at night. He had adored his mother, and he was heartbroken when she had quit coming to see him. The fae were wayward in their passions, something Wulfe only dimly understood. His mother had loved her son with her whole being, until she found some new pleasure. She had probably by now forgotten his very existence.

  Wulfe hungered for affection. The druidic elder had been kind to him, but Wulfe could tell the man had not loved him. The elder knew about the dark and dangerous daemons that lurked inside the boy. He had worked patiently to try to teach Wulfe self-restraint, self-discipline, self-control. Wulfe found these lessons hard to bear, and he had been overjoyed to discover that Skylan agreed with him. Skylan indulged Wulfe, let him do as he pleased. Wulfe, in turn, adored Skylan.

  As much as Wulfe adored Skylan, he hated Treia. She had never given up trying to force him to tell her how he had met Skylan and what had happened on the voyage. Wulfe felt, with his animal instinct, that Treia was a threat to Skylan, and Wulfe took it upon himself to keep watch on her. He would often hide in the woods near her dwelling, observing her comings and goings, following her, listening in on her conversations, though he rarely understood much of what she talked about.

  Wulfe hoped to hear her plotting to murder Skylan, in which case he would have an excuse to unleash his daemons, who were always urging him to do terrible things to her. But though Treia spoke of Skylan with scorn and disdain, she never said anything to indicate she meant him harm. Wulfe never gave up hope, however, and he continued to keep an eye on her.

  In regard to the other people in Skylan’s life, Wulfe felt sorry for Norgaard, who walked the twilight realm between life and death. Wulfe knew the old man wanted to die, to leave beh
ind the crippled body and go to live in glory with his god. Wulfe was kind to Norgaard, who came to like the boy, finding him amusing.

  Wulfe was at first disposed to hate Garn and Aylaen. He discovered their secret almost at once. He knew Skylan loved Aylaen, for Skylan was always talking about her, and Wulfe could not understand how she could love someone else.

  Wulfe had hated them both for betraying Skylan, and he was considering telling Skylan everything. Wulfe loved gossip as much as any dryad, and he watched the couple and listened to them talk and eventually he came to realize that neither of them wanted to hurt Skylan. The secret of their love cast a long shadow over their lives. Wulfe also realized that if Skylan found out the truth, it would destroy him. And so Wulfe kept the secret.

  He was lounging beside the stream, telling the naiad about the naiads who lived on the Isle of Apensia, when they were interrupted by the arrival of Skylan and Aylaen. Wulfe hid among the trees and settled down to eavesdrop on the two. The naiad of the spring, the dryads of the fir and birch trees, the hamadryads who inhabited the oak trees, and a passing satyr all gathered to laugh at the antics of the Ugly Ones.

  They watched Skylan press his love on Aylaen, and they watched her struggle to resist him. The satyr did an imitation of Skylan, swaggering about on his hairy goat legs, shouting his love for the giggling dryads, shaking his bulging penis at them, and boasting of his prowess. The dryads laughed at the satyr, until he came too close to one of them, and then they jeered at him and threw acorns at the randy half-goat/half-man to drive him away.

  Once the satyr was gone, the dryads and their sisters shook the boughs of their trees, spreading the gossip through the forest. The naiad—a lovely, languid creature—sang a song about the love of the Uglies and sent it bubbling and rippling over the stones. The song traveled downstream to her cousins, the oceanaids, who found it vastly amusing.

  Wulfe didn’t think it was funny. He thought it was sad. He could not comprehend how three people who loved each other could do such hurt to each other. Love was supposed to be good, bring happiness, and here it was making each of these people suffer, just as love had made his parents suffer.