Rage of the Dragon

by Margaret Weis

  “I take it then that this is the only reason you chose me to be Priest-General, Lord God,” he said bitterly. “Because I have knowledge of these spiritbones.”

  Aelon understood that he was hurt, his pride wounded. She took hold of his hand in hers and drew near him. The scent of jasmine, warm from her body, filled his nostrils.

  “Do this for me,” said Aelon softly. “Find these spiritbones for me, bring them to me, and I will reward you. You will not be Priest-General…”

  Raegar sighed deeply and shook his head.

  Aelon squeezed his hand. “You will be Emperor.”

  Raegar lifted his head, gazed at her in astonishment.

  “Kings of all the nations in the world will bow down before you,” said Aelon. “They will send you tribute, do you homage. As Emperor of the New Dawn, you will dwell in a magnificent palace, high in this very mountain. And there, in a room known only to ourselves, I will visit you.”

  Aelon smiled. She was beautiful when she smiled. She lingered on the word “visit” and he saw—or hoped he saw—her true meaning in her eyes. He stared at her in dumb adoration, then, with a wrench, he tore his hand from her grasp, stood up, and walked a few paces away.

  “I would give my life to do whatever you asked of me, Lord God Aelon, but I must tell you the truth. I cannot give you spiritbones.” Raegar shook his head. “Four of them are missing and one lies at the bottom of the sea. Recovering it would be impossible—”

  “Oh, as to that,” Aelon interrupted with an air of nonchalance, “two of the spiritbones are in the sea. Retrieving them should not be difficult.”

  Raegar stared at her. “Two?”

  “Your wife, Treia, was right when she said that Skylan went back to retrieve the Vektan Torque from the ogres. I like your wife, by the way. I admire her ambition and her ruthless nature. The time may come when she has to be removed, however. Do not worry,” Aelon added, seeing Raegar’s eyes widen in horror, “nothing will happen to Treia until after the birth of your son.”

  “My son…” Raegar breathed. “Then I am to have a son?”

  “You will need an heir,” said Aelon. “A son with the blood of warriors in his veins.”

  Raegar swelled with pride. He could already see himself cloaked in purple, crowned in gold, sifting through casks of jewels.

  “Of course,” said Aelon, “all this is contingent upon the recovery of the Five spiritbones. We have or soon will have two. The problem lies in finding the other three. Where they are, I fear, I cannot tell you. The Old Gods have hidden them well.”

  “Pardon me for asking, Lord God,” Raegar said hesitantly, “but how am I to gain the two that are beneath the waves?”

  “The spiritbone of the Vektia that was in the possession of the god, Sund, is inside the hull of the Venjekar. The fae child hid it there. The other, the Vektan Torque, is in the possession of the Aquins, who have also taken your cousin, Skylan Ivorson, prisoner.”

  “My whoreson cousin is dead,” said Raegar. “He was killed by the kraken.”

  “Ivorson survived. Everyone on board the Venjekar survived, including the woman named Aylaen, your wife’s sister.”

  Raegar was stunned. “How is that possible? I saw the kraken smash the ship—”

  “With the gods, all things are possible.” Aelon said. “The Old Gods are battered and bloodied, but they are not defeated. This time, however, they will not win. I have worshippers among the Aquins. With their help, you can recover both these spiritbones.”

  “And I will use them to find my cousin, Lord God,” said Raegar harshly. “So long as Skylan lives, he will be a danger to us. He needs to be put down like a rabid dog.”

  Aelon shrugged, a movement of her shoulders that caused her breasts to stir beneath the thin fabric of her gown. Raegar found himself staring at her hungrily and he flushed and tore his gaze away.

  “Your cousin is not the danger. Kill him or not as you choose. The one who truly concerns me is the woman, Aylaen Adalbrand.”

  “So must I kill Aylaen?” Raegar asked in a low voice.

  “On the contrary,” Aelon said coolly, “you must do everything in your power to keep her alive.”

  Raegar was relieved. “I will obey your command, Lord God. If I could ask why…”

  “When I have the Five spiritbones, I will need a Kai Priestess to summon the dragons.”

  “I beg your pardon for saying this, Lord God,” said Raegar. “Though I have tried many times to introduce Aylaen to your glorious light, she has refused. She is very stubborn.”

  “Bring her to me,” said Aelon. “She will do my bidding. She will have no choice.”

  “I live to obey, Lord God,” Raegar vowed. He hesitated, started to speak, then stopped, clearly uncomfortable.

  “There is something on your mind,” said Aelon. “Speak the words in your heart.”

  Raegar flushed. “I do not know if I dare, Lord God.”

  “Nothing you say will offend me.”

  “You test every Priest-General—”

  Aelon nodded. “The Test of the Spear proclaims your commitment and courage. The Test of the Serpent reveals your wisdom and cleverness. With the final, the Test of Temptation, I see every man’s weakness and I offer him what he most desires.”

  Raegar’s flush deepened at the word weakness. He lowered his eyes and spoke in gruff tones. “I know I am weak when it comes to women. A man has needs,” he added defensively. He looked at her, saw her regarding him with cool dispassion. His skin burned, but he stammered on. “You are so … so beautiful, Lord God. The most beautiful creature I have ever seen. You offered yourself to me. If … if I had accepted your offer. If I had tried to make love to you—”

  “I would have sent your ashes back to your wife in a very small box.”

  Raegar shuddered. He thought how close, how very close, he had come to destruction, and he was sick to his stomach, his body drenched in cold sweat. He feared for a terrible moment he was going to vomit on his god.

  “You made a vow in my name to be faithful to your wife,” said Aelon relentlessly. “Yet even now you look at me with lust in your heart.”

  Aelon rose to her feet. He was tall, but she seemed to tower over him.

  “You will be true to that vow, for by being faithful to her, you are faithful to me. You must learn discipline, control your ‘needs.’”

  Raegar sank to his knees and clasped his hands.

  “Forgive me, Lord God,” he said wretchedly. “I will be faithful to you. I swear.”

  “Bring me the Five spiritbones. Bring me the Kai Priestess of Vindrash. Keep my mysteries. Keep my secrets. Keep every vow you make in my name. Do all this for me, and you will be rewarded. Well rewarded,” Aelon said softly. She reached out to touch his cheek. “I might even give you what you want most.”

  Raegar fell to his knees and kissed the hem of her skirt. Aelon traced her fingers over the serpent tattoo on his head and then, leaning over him, she kissed the serpent. The touch of her lips swept over him like fire. The tattoo was branded on his soul.

  “I am yours, Lord God Aelon!” Raegar cried, and he prostrated himself before her, his large body shaking with sobs.

  “Yes, Raegar,” Aelon said, smiling in satisfaction. “You are. And you always will be.”

  CHAPTER

  20

  Raegar returned to Sinaria and this time he was received with all the honors accorded to a new Priest-General. He first went to his home, embraced the astonished Treia, and, lifting his wife in his arms, took her with him in the chariot. As they rode through the streets of Sinaria, people threw flowers and cheered until they were hoarse. When Raegar finally reached the Shrine of Aelon, he assembled the priests in front of the steel door to the treasure vault and, in full view of all, he prayed to Aelon. The steel door rose slowly and ponderously. The priests cheered, some more loudly than others, for there were still those who had their doubts about their new Priest-General. They were careful to keep those doubts to themse
lves, lest the men in the black cloaks pay them a nocturnal visit.

  Finally, late that night, Raegar and Treia entered the magnificent dwelling of the Priest-General. Men had worked feverishly during the time Raegar had been gone to repair the mansion. Raegar dismissed the servants and his guards, saying he wanted to be alone with his wife.

  Slowly and ponderously, Raegar got down on his knees before her.

  “I ask your forgiveness, Treia,” he said.

  “My love! Don’t do this. You’re frightening me,” Treia said nervously. “What is the matter with you?”

  “I was wrong,” said Raegar quietly. “I have not been faithful to you, to your love. By breaking my wedding vow to you, I broke my vow to the god. Aelon chastised me and made me see I was wrong. You are my wife and the only woman who will share my bed.”

  Treia regarded him intently. Raegar looked different. He sounded different. He sounded like a man in love. But he wasn’t pledging his faith to her. He was pledging his faith to his god.

  Treia had always been jealous over Raegar. She had seen the way he looked at other women. She had seen the way he looked at Aylaen, her own sister. At least, Treia had told herself with satisfaction, he would always came back to her bed. Now, even in their bed, Raegar would not be with her.

  Treia noticed a subtle change when Raegar referred to the god, not using “he” or “his.” As a wife is said to know in some mysterious way that her husband is having an affair with another woman, Treia knew that something had happened between Raegar and this god of his. If she did not know the truth, she knew him well enough to come close to guessing it.

  “I may not win this battle,” Treia muttered beneath her breath, “but I will not stop fighting. He is mine, do you hear me, Aelon. I can give him something that you cannot!”

  Treia staggered and seemed faint. Raegar caught her in his arms, lowered her into a chair, and shouted for the servants to bring wine.

  “Forgive me, Wife,” said Raegar. “I did not mean to upset you. I thought this would make you happy.”

  Treia managed to force her stiff lips into a smile. “You did not upset me, my husband. You made me very, very happy. Especially now. I did not want to say anything, because I am not sure. It is too soon…”

  “Then it is true!” Raegar cried jubilantly. “I am to have a son!”

  Treia stared at him in astonishment. “How could you know that the baby will be a boy?”

  “Aelon told me. Aelon is all-knowing,” said Raegar. “Blessed be the name of Aelon.”

  Treia gnashed her teeth.

  “Can I do anything for you, my love?” Raegar asked solicitously. “Fetch you something to eat? A cushion for your feet?”

  “Sit here and talk to me,” said Treia. “Tell me of your meeting with the god.”

  “I may not speak of such mysteries,” said Raegar grandiosely. “But I have been granted leave to tell you some news that will gladden your heart. Your sister, Aylaen, is alive!”

  Treia stared at him in shock. She couldn’t believe this news. She went so pale that Raegar was worried.

  “I’m sorry. I should have prepared you.”

  Treia gulped some wine and the color returned to her face. “How can Aylaen be alive?” she asked warily. “I saw the kraken drag the Venjekar down beneath the waves. All aboard must have drowned.”

  “Skylan is beloved of Torval,” said Raegar. “Aylaen is the priestess of Vindrash. The Old Gods carry on the battle, though their power weakens daily. Aylaen is alive and I know where to find her and the spiritbones of the Vektia. Aylaen treated you badly, but she is your sister and I know you love her despite her faults.”

  “Love her,” Treia repeated with emphasis. “I do love my sister and I am thankful she is alive. I would give anything to see her. Where is she?”

  “Ah, the answer to that is complicated,” said Raegar, scratching his jaw. “You will find this hard to believe…”

  “Tell me,” said Treia.

  “Skylan and Aylaen were saved by the Aquins.”

  “The who?” Treia blinked.

  “The Aquins. The people who live beneath the sea.”

  Treia burst into laughter.

  Raegar regarded her coldly. “You mock your husband.”

  Treia hastened to stifle her mirth. “I am sorry, my love, but it sounds too fantastic. The Aquins are creatures of myth—”

  “They are real,” said Raegar in stern tones. “Aelon has proclaimed it.”

  “Oh, then, very well, I must believe…” Treia murmured dutifully.

  She wanted to believe. She wanted this news to be true. She prayed for it to be true. The god to whom she prayed was not Aelon.

  “And now, Wife,” said Raegar fondly, “I have been longing for a fortnight to take you in my arms.”

  He kissed her and carried her to their bed.

  The two made love, though not really to each other. The body Raegar caressed was the voluptuous body of the god. Treia saw in her mind the face of Hevis.

  If Aylaen was alive, the god would have his sacrifice.

  * * *

  Raegar had an overwhelming amount of work to do. He had to supervise the rebuilding of the city of Sinaria, which had already begun. Thus would he let the people know that Aelon had neither forgotten nor abandoned them. He had to consolidate his power base and select a new High Priest, the previous one having hastily departed. He had to receive delegates from the kings of the other cities throughout Oran, all of whom would by vying to be named Emperor, since the throne was now vacant.

  Raegar grinned inwardly. He had a candidate in mind—himself. Raegar announced that he was taking the matter of naming a new Emperor under “prayerful consideration.” As he prayed, he would work to acquire the Five Vektia spiritbones. Once he did that, all prayers would be answered.

  Aelon had told him where to look for Aylaen and the spiritbones—beneath the sea. Raegar had been annoyed with Treia for laughing at the idea of people living beneath the sea. He didn’t like to admit it, but his annoyance was aimed partly at himself. Humans living like fish? The thought came to him that Aelon was deceiving him. He didn’t like to believe it. He wanted to believe in the god and in the god’s promises. He couldn’t help himself. He doubted.

  The Watchers would be able to assist him, alleviate his doubts. Or laugh at him.

  Raegar and Treia stood in the doorway of the room where the Watchers did their work, waiting for the priest known as the Flame Master.

  In the large, darkened, hushed room, priests sat cross-legged on the floor. In front of each priest was a silver bowl, plain and elegant, filled with water. Each priest concentrated on his bowl. Occasionally gouts of flame would rise up from the water and when this happened, the priest leaned closer and listened to the voice of one of Aelon’s priests as the man spoke into a bowl of water, perhaps asking a question, passing on information to another priest, sending urgent news. At times, a Watcher would rise to his feet and hasten over to the Flame Master asking for guidance. The Flame Master would either instruct the priest in a voice that was barely above a whisper or she would send one of her runners to a scribe. Not even the Priest-General could interrupt the work of those whose task it was to communicate with Aelon’s priests the world over.

  And perhaps the world under.

  The Flame Master rang a small gong. At the melodious sound, another priest emerged from an inner room and came to take over. The Flame Master rose to her feet and went out to confer with Raegar.

  “Priest-General,” said the Flame Master, bowing.

  She was a middle-aged woman, of medium height, corpulent, with shrewd eyes and a masterful air that cowed both the new Priest-General and Treia.

  As a Warrior-Priest, Raegar had often made use of the Watchers, especially when he had been a spy on his own people, the Vindrasi. He had passed on information about them, about the Old Gods. He had used the Watchers to betray his cousin, Skylan, into slavery. Raegar had never had occasion to enter this sacred room,
however, and he was nervous and overawed.

  “What is your need, Priest-General?” the Flame Master asked.

  The use of the title and the woman’s deference bolstered Raegar’s confidence. He drew Treia forward.

  “My wife’s beloved sister has been lost at sea,” said Raegar. “We are expecting our first child,” he added with pardonable pride, “and I fear that her grief will harm the unborn babe. Aelon has given me to know that Treia’s sister, Aylaen, is safe with the Aquins.”

  Raegar spoke nonchalantly, as if one discussed people living beneath the sea every day. He watched the Flame Master closely. If the woman’s lips so much as twitched or her brow raised, Raegar would know Aelon had lied to him.

  To Raegar’s vast relief, the Flame Master smiled at Treia, offered congratulations on the news of the child, and said she understood Treia’s concerns.

  “Please accompany me,” said the Flame Master, adding quietly, in soft rebuke, “First, remove your shoes.”

  Treia and Raegar hurriedly took off their shoes and, uncertain what to expect, accompanied the Flame Master, threading their way among the kneeling Watchers, who were intent upon gazing into the silver bowls and paid them no heed. The Flame Master led the two to a small room set off from the main chamber. Beautiful tapestries covered the room’s walls. A fragrance of cedar filled the air. The room had no furniture. A silver bowl filled with water; a golden flask, adorned with serpents; and an oil lamp made of silver and encrusted with jewels were arranged on the floor. The only light came from the small, unwavering flame of the oil lamp. The Flame Master brought forth several cushions, placed them on the floor, and then gestured for Treia and Raegar to be seated.

  “Is this your private chamber, Flame Master?” Raegar asked, glancing around the room with admiration. “If so, I thank you for allowing us to make use of it.”

  The Flame Master bowed. “This is your private chamber, Priest-General. Whenever you want to speak to your priests, Worshipful Sir, you have only to summon them.”

  Raegar was mystified. “But how do I do that, Flame Master? When I was a priest, the Priest-General never asked to speak to me.”