Doom of the Dragon Read Online Free Page B

silent, arranging the pieces on the board.
    â€œYou spoke of the battle. How does the war go?” Skylan asked, glad to change the subject.
    Garn glanced sidelong at Torval, who was once more sitting in his great chair. The god stared pensively into the fire, seeming oblivious to the laughter and music.
    â€œWe are losing,” said Garn.
    Skylan looked up, shocked. “That cannot be true! When I was outside, I heard our warriors boasting of victory.”
    â€œAn empty victory. Meaningless,” said Garn. “Aelon fights a war of attrition. Our numbers dwindle with every battle.”
    â€œHow is that possible? How can the dead die?” Skylan demanded.
    â€œThey don’t die. Aelon claims their souls,” said Garn. “We fight hellkites—men who lived lives of such cruelty and depravity that when they died, no other god would take them. Aelon forces them to fight for him and if you fall by the accursed sword of a hellkite, you become one of them.”
    â€œTorval would not permit such an outrage,” said Skylan.
    Garn sighed. Looking around, he leaned nearer and said quietly, “Torval can do nothing to save his own warriors. Some say he has grown too weak.”
    â€œI don’t believe it,” said Skylan stoutly. “When we have recovered the Five and the power of creation, Torval will be restored to glory and might. He will drive out the other gods and the world will go on as before.”
    He spoke with a confidence he did not feel. He and Aylaen had recovered three of the five spiritbones of the Vektia, that was true. But two more remained hidden. The Sea Goddess had told them they would find one in the land of the Stormlords. The whereabouts of the fifth was unknown. And unless he could find some way to return to Aylaen, she was going to have to complete this dangerous quest alone.
    â€œWhat will happen if I fail, Garn?” Skylan asked abruptly. “What will become of you and Torval and the others?”
    â€œYou won’t fail,” said Garn, smiling. “You are Skylan, Chief of Chiefs.”
    Skylan sighed. Not so long ago, he had believed in himself. He had been invincible. Only to find one day that he wasn’t.
    â€œWhat will happen?” he persisted.
    â€œOur gods will be cast out of this world. Torval and the others will wander the universe as vagabonds. Those of us who survive will go with them.”
    Garn leaned across the table to add softly, “Here comes Joabis. Tread carefully, Skylan. I do not know what he wants from you, but he wants something.”
    â€œWatch my back,” said Skylan.
    â€œAlways,” said Garn. Rising to his feet, he dragged over a bench and sat down beside Skylan.
    Joabis took his place at the table, placing the game board between him and Skylan with a mug and a pitcher of ale off to one side. Joabis lifted his mug in a toast, grinned, winked, and belched.
    Skylan grimaced in disgust. He hoped the other warriors didn’t think this drunken god was his friend. He was starting to wonder if coming to the Hall had been such a good idea. There was no help for it now, however. He had to go through with this wager, and he had to win.
    Before the draugr had taught him the strategy to the game, Skylan had played dragonbone as he had lived his life: reckless, impulsive, haphazard, doing what he pleased with no thought to the consequences. After playing all those dreadful games with the Dragon Goddess on board the ghost ship, he had learned that in the game as in life, one needed to be patient, to think several moves ahead, to consider carefully each move before he made it.
    He began the game by taking up five bones, arranging them in front of him, and then placing five in front of Joabis. He did this without thinking. In the myriad games he had played with the Dragon Goddess, Vindrash had taught him to play with what he had come to call the Five Bone Variant. She had started every game by placing five