Secret of the Dragon by Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman

Author:Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman [Weis, Margaret & Hickman, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Novela, Fantástico
Publisher: ePubLibre
Published: 2010-03-15T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

12

The first training session for the Para Dix took place the morning that Raegar and Xydis met. The Torgun were marched to the playing field by the Tribune’s soldiers, who ordered them to sit on the ground and keep quiet. Aylaen arrived shortly after, escorted by Zahakis. All Aylaen could think about was Garn and the claim that Aelon could bring her lover back to life. Garn had attained what every warrior longed for—he had died a hero’s death. He would be in Torval’s Hall. If she dragged him away . . . Unhappy and troubled, warring between doing what she longed to do and doing what she knew she should do, she sat apart from the others, her head bowed.

Skylan, keeping an eye on the guards who were talking to Zahakis, managed to slide closer to Aylaen.

“Did you find out anything about Wulfe?” he asked.

Aylaen gave a start and stared at him as if she had no idea who he was.

Skylan eyed her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course,” she said shortly.

“Are you sure? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine!” she said, glaring at him.

“Did you ask about Wulfe—”

Aylaen flushed guiltily. “I didn’t . . . have a chance. I’m sorry.” She hunched her shoulders and turned away from him.

The ogre came into view, lumbering across the playing field. The day before, Skylan had told his men that an ogre godlord was going to teach them how to fight. He told them what he learned about the Para Dix, which was, in truth, next to nothing because he hadn’t been paying attention. At first Sigurd and the others refused to believe him, and then, when he swore an oath on Torval’s beard that he was telling the truth, they were outraged—at him.

“We are supposed to fight and bleed while these goat-fornicating Southlanders jeer at us!” Sigurd said angrily.

“You can always go back to picking up rocks,” Skylan said. “You were good at that, I hear. I, for one, want the chance to hold a sword in my hand.”

Sigurd glowered, realizing he’d put himself in a bad position. Given manual labor or the chance to fight—no matter if it was for show—the other Torgun would side with Skylan. Even Sigurd’s most loyal supporter, Grimuir, was looking uncertain.

“I will fight in this Para Dix,” said Sigurd grandly. “The men will need their Chief to lead them.”

Once, not so long ago, Skylan would have leaped down Sigurd’s throat. He had come to the realization that rainy night on the Venjekar, when he had almost given way to despair, that the Torgun’s greatest strength lay in each other. To win this battle, they would have to stand together, shoulder to shoulder, as in the shield wall.

Keeper ordered the Torgun to stand, the tattoo of Aelon keeping them under control. The Torgun obeyed, sullenly, glaring at the detested ogre. Keeper looked them over, eyeing them up and down.

He walked over to Sigurd. “You call yourself a warrior, Graybeard? I am not surprised you ended up as slaves.

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