Margaret Weis - Bones of the Dragon (Dragonships)

BONES OF THE DRAGON

BONES
OF THE
DRAGON

MARGARET WEIS
AND
TRACY HICKMAN

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously.

BONES OF THE DRAGON

Copyright 2008 by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman

All rights reserved.

A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010

www.tor-forge.com

Tor is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Weis, Margaret.

p. cm.

A Tom Doherty Associates book.

ISBN-13: 978-0-7653-1973-9 (hardcover)

ISBN-10: 0-7653-1973-X (hardcover)

ISBN-13: 978-0-7653-2346-0 (first international trade paperback edition) 1. HeroesFiction. 2. GodsFiction. 3. DragonsFiction. 4. MagicFiction. 5. Quests (Expeditions)Fiction. I. Hickman, Tracy. II. Title.

PS3573.E3978 B66 2009
813.54dc 22

2008038032

First Edition: January 2009

Printed in the United States of America

0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To Angel Jane Peterson from Grampa Hickman: Thank you for all my brighter tomorrows.

TRACY HICKMAN

To my flyball team, the BC Boomerangs, and our dogs: Dixie, Joey, Bandit, Razor, Chloe, Riley, Scooter B, Scooter C, Feisty, Scotty, Figment, Scout, Fly, Shelby, Frasier, Shifter, Ginger, Shooter, Homer, Simpson, Jem, Skaner, Smush, Kanga, Solar, Luke, Squirt, Lunar, Stewie, Max, Streyeker, Mojo, Target, Nikki, Tempe, Ranger, Zoomer: Thank you for the fun and friendship!

MARGARET WEIS

WYRD

The thread
is twisted and spun
upon the wheel.
Then I snip it,
and he dies.

BOOK

THE OGRES

CHAPTER

T he hunt had not gone well. The four young men had left their village six days ago, hoping to bring down game for their people. They had caught only a few thin and undernourished rabbits, which went to feed the hungry hunters. Discouraged, the young men had headed back home.

The Torgun were not generally hunters, except for sport. The clan raised cattle and sheep, ducks and geese, housing them in byres during the winter, feeding them grain grown during the summer months. But due to excessive rain, the grain harvest had been poor last fall. The winter, the dark months of Svanses, had been unusually long and bitterly cold, killing animals and people. Spring had brought hope to the Torgun, but the time of spring, Desiria, proved a mockery. The goddess Akarias rains came early and then ceased. Now, in late spring, the young crops withered in the dry ground.

Even under ideal conditions, raising crops was always difficult in this land of cold and snow. The growing season was short, the ground rocky and difficult to farm. Despite the hardships, or perhaps because of them, the Vindrasi people had lived here and thrived for centuries. Not even the eldest among them could remember a time as bad as this.

On their return, the group of four friends split up, hoping to cover more ground in their efforts to find game. The brothers, Bjorn and Erdmun, took a different road to the village, using the northern route. Skylan and Garn took the south. These two young men walked in silence. Skylan did not react well to failure, and he was sullen and brooding. Garn was silent because he never spoke unless he had something to say that was worth saying.

The time was morning, near dawn. The young men had risen early, intending to find deer stirring in the gloaming and eating tender green grass or coming to the stream to drink. There were no deer, however, because there was no tender grass. As for the stream, lack of rain had caused it to dwindle to almost nothing. A small child could toddle through the water without wetting her knees.

Skylan watched the sun rise up over the hills, and he grew even glummer. Aylis, the Sun Goddess, was an angry goddess, burning away the clouds that might have brought much-needed rain.

The day would be clear and hot. Again.

I am beginning to think Aylis hates us, Skylan said bitterly. We prayed for the goddesss light during the harsh season of Svansol, and she was nowhere to be seen, leaving us to the mercy of Svanses and her snow and ice and bitter cold. Now, in the time of Desiria, we cannot rid ourselves of Aylis. We pray to the Goddess of the Waters for rain, but Aylis drives Akaria away, burns our crops, and dries up our water.

One would think, Garn commented with a half smile, that Torval could exert better control over his women.

Perhaps Torvals women are like ours and do whatever they damn well please, Skylan muttered, thinking of one woman in particular.

He spoke lightly, but he touched the amuleta small silver axehe wore around his neck on a leather thong to appease the God of War in case he should take offense.

But we should not jest about such matters, Skylan added hastily. Torval might be insulted and take out his rage on us.

I do not see how the god can cause us to suffer more than we already have, Garn returned dryly. We endure the worst winter in memory and wait hopefully for spring. A time of new life, it brings drought and death.

Frowning, Skylan said nothing. He revered the gods, and he wished Garn would stop talking about them in such a disrespectful, almost mocking tone. Skylan might have said something, but he and Garn had been friendsmore like brothers, for they had been raised togethersince they were infants, and Skylan knew from experience that arguing with Garn would only encourage him in his irreverence. And so Skylan kept quiet.

Skylans faith in the gods of the Vindrasi was simple and unquestioning, perhaps becauseas Garn might have saidhis faith had not been tried. At the time of his birth, Skylan Ivorson had been blessed by Torval, Chief of the Gods of the Vindras. A spark struck from Torvals war axe as he fought his enemies in heaven had flashed across the heavens at the very moment Skylan let out his first cry. When Norgaard, Skylans father and Chief of the Torgun Clan, told Aldrif, the former Kai Priestess, about the spark and how all in the clan had witnessed it, she affirmed that the God Torval had indeed blessed the child, who would grow up to be a valiant warrior, a savior of his people. The sad fact that his mother had died giving him life made the sign more significant.

Everyone in the Torgun Clan believed in that blessing, especially Skylan. He was the strongest young man in the clan, the boldest warrior, the most skillful with sword and spear and axe. He was handsome, with eyes the color of the waves upon which the Vindrasi sailed their dragonships and hair the color of the golden rays of Aylis. His skin was bronze, his body well formed and well muscled. He carried himself with pride and confidence.

Skylan had taken his place in the shield-wall and killed his first man in battle at the age of fourteen. He had taken his first woman at about that same age, going on to lie with girls who were careless of their virtue or with low-born girls whose parents hoped that by coupling with the chiefs son, their daughters would be provided for. As a result, there were several children about the camp who had sea-blue eyes and sun-gold hair.

Skylan cheerfully acknowledged his bastard children and gifted their mothers with presents from time to time, as was expected of him. He had no intention of wedding any of the women, however, and he had ceased his tomcatting, as Garn had put it. Two years ago, when he was sixteen, Skylan decided he was in love. Her name was Aylaen Adalbrand, stepdaughter of his fathers friend, Sigurd Adalbrand. She had been fifteen then. She was now seventeen years old.

The three of themAylaen, Garn, and Skylanhad been friends from the time their caretakers had laid them on blankets together. The three played together, which was unusual, for girls were generally kept at home to assist with house hold duties. Aylaens father was dead, her mother could not control her, and Aylaen ran wild, escaping from her chores to join Skylan and Garn in their play and in their fights. Skylan did not remember what he had done to anger Aylaenperhaps he had roughly pulled her long red braids. Aylaen had rounded on him like a catamount, punching him in the face, splitting open his lip, bloodying his noseand knocking him on his rump.