Bones of the Dragon (60 page)

“Freilis take you, then! Freilis take you both!”

Skylan shoved her away and lay back down. He closed his eyes, did not look at her. He sensed her lingering for a moment, hoping he would relent. Skylan would never do that. His aching heart, his bitter jealousy, his wounded pride twisted around inside him like a nest of baby vipers. He knew he should cut off their heads, for the longer he nursed them, the stronger and more powerful and more poisonous they would become. He could not help himself, however. He fed the snakes the milk of hatred.

“Skylan!” Erdmun was shaking him. “Skylan, wake up!”

“I’m awake,” Skylan mumbled, trying to crawl out of the hole of deep sleep. “What is it?” He sat up, yawning and scratching at the beard sprouting on his chin. He hated going without shaving. It made him feel unclean.

“I sighted land,” said Erdmun, who had been standing lookout.

Skylan was on his feet, awake in an instant. He looked swiftly and uneasily in the direction of the dragon’s head and breathed a sigh of relief to see that the draugr was gone. The mists were gone, as well. A red slit on the horizon presaged the sun, whose light was already spreading a pinkish glow in the sky.

“Wake the others,” said Skylan.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Erdmun. “Not yet.”

Skylan cast him a frowning glance. “Why not?”

Erdmun pointed.

Two immense rock formations jutted up out of the water. The rocks stood opposite each other, leaving a space between large enough for a dragonship. The rocks were not a natural foundation. They were the remains of an immense stone arch that had been built centuries before. The top of the arch had long ago broken and fallen into the sea. All that remained were the pillars that had supported it, and they were so eroded by wind and wave that
only the Vindrasi remembered from their legends and stories and songs what they had been.

“You see why I told you not to wake the men?” Erdmun said gloomily. His lip was swollen from where Skylan had hit him. “What are we going to do? The Dragon Kahg has brought us to the one place you warned us we should not go! We
are
cursed!”

The Arch of Vektia, gateway to the Dragon Isles.

The men were alarmed and frightened, and they urged Skylan to tell the dragon to turn the ship around so that they would not be attacked by giants. Skylan couldn’t very well tell the men they had nothing to fear, that he’d made up the entire tale. There was no curse. There were no giants. There had been no battle on the Dragon Isles.

Once his initial shock had passed, Skylan felt a vast sense of relief. He was grateful to the Dragon Kahg, who had known what he was doing all the time. Skylan had been on the Dragon Isles before. There was plenty of game. There were trees that could be cut down, used to make a new rudder.

The ship had, admittedly, been blown a vast distance off course. But even with the delay, there were still several months of good sailing weather ahead of them. Time enough to meet up with the other dragonships and find the ogres’ lands.

Now, all Skylan had to do was fix his lie. The dragonship was sailing straight toward the arch, and some of the men were threatening to jump overboard rather than risk the wrath of the gods.

Raegar came up to the rail, leaned his elbow on it. “Strange that the dragon should bring us to the Dragon Isles,” he said in a low voice.

He moved closer. He pitched his voice for only Skylan to hear. “Don’t fret, Cousin. You did what you had to do. You saved Draya’s reputation, as well as your own. The gods understand and forgive. As for why the Dragon Kahg brought us here, consider this—the dragon would not have done so if Torval had not commanded it.”

Skylan leaned on the rail, watching the pillars draw nearer, and considered his cousin’s words.

“That is true,” Skylan was forced to concede.

Except he knew it wasn’t. The dragon had not brought them here. Draya had. She had been standing beside the dragon, guiding him.

The men needed food. They needed to make repairs to the ship, which was slowly sinking beneath them. Skylan stood mulling it over and was only gradually aware that Raegar had departed and Garn was at his side.

Skylan started to walk off.

“You don’t need to speak to me,” said Garn quietly. “Just listen. I came to warn you. Raegar is acting strangely. He spends most of his time scanning the sea, as though he’s searching for something.”

“He’s looking for the other dragonships,” Skylan replied curtly. “Nothing strange in that.”

“Just keep an eye on him,” said Garn, and he moved away.

Skylan looked around the ship. The men lined the rail, eyeing the pillars and arguing about whether they should land on the Dragon Isles, a moot point, for the dragon seemed intent on carrying them there. Raegar was not among the crowd. He was standing by the rail, gazing out to sea, and he was smiling.

“Raegar!” Skylan called.

He jerked his head around, startled to find he was being watched.

“Any sign of the other ships?” Skylan asked.

Raegar was wary. His eyes narrowed. “What ships?”

“The two dragonships, of course,” said Skylan, puzzled by the response.

“Ah!” Raegar’s face cleared. He gave a shrug and a sorrowful shake of his head. “I’ve seen nothing of them, I’m afraid.”

He crossed the deck to join the other men.

Skylan wiped the sweat from his face and ran his hand through his hair to feel the cool air on his scalp. Things were getting far too complicated. Skylan looked at the pillars, and he longed to tell Garn everything.

Tell him I lied when I said I had been to the Dragon Isles before. Tell him it was not Torval nor yet the dragon who brought us here to these sacred isles. It was the draugr, the walking corpse of my dead wife. My wife who haunts my dreams and forces me to play dragonbones night after night for a reason I cannot fathom. I would tell Garn the truth about Raegar, how I met him, how he owned slaves, how he was going to abduct Draya, how he seemed perfectly content to never come back home and then he came back home.

Garn would be able to explain it. He would know what it all meant.

I saved him from drowning. Now the waters are closing over my head. I need him to save me.

Skylan looked at his friend and even took a step toward him. At that moment, Aylaen walked over to Garn. Their hands twined together. They gazed into each other’s eyes. In that moment, they were the only two people in the world. In that moment, each existed only for the other.

The snakes inside Skylan twisted.

“Listen to me!” Skylan shouted, and the men ceased their arguments.
“Torval himself has brought us to this blessed haven, where we can rest and eat our fill and repair our ship. We will offer prayers of thanks to Torval and to Vindrash for bringing us safely through the storm. And we will vow to the gods that we will not return to our homes until we have recovered the Vektan Torque.”

The warriors discussed this among themselves and at last agreed that Skylan must be right. The dragon would not have brought them here if there were a curse.

In spite of all that, they might not have agreed so readily, but that no man could stomach more raw fish.

T
he
Venjekar
swept between the Pillars of Vektia and entered the Bay of the Pillars. The water here was aqua blue, many shades lighter than the dark blue of the sea. The Dragon Kahg did not diminish his speed. Dragons and men had traveled here since the beginning of time. The only sandbar was clearly visible—a narrow strip of brownish-white sand adorned by a single wind-stunted tree. The dragonship sailed around the sandbar and through the deep water, heading for the shore.

And then, without warning, came the sickening sound of splintering wood. The ship’s forward momentum stopped abruptly. Everything and everyone kept going. Men slammed into the hull. Those, like Skylan, who had been leaning on the rail flew over the side and landed in the water.

The
Venjekar
had run aground.

Skylan bobbed to the surface. The water was calm and shallow. He could not touch the bottom, but he could see it beneath his boots. He could also see the sandbar and the wrecked dragonship. Beside him, Wulfe was coughing, spitting out water, and looking indignant.

“Can you swim?” Skylan asked.

Wulfe nodded.

“Then head to shore,” Skylan ordered.

From his vantage point in the water, he could see that returning to the ship was useless. The dragonship perched at an odd angle on a narrow strip
of sand, the keel buried deep. Even if the ship had sustained no major damage, freeing it would be an immense task.

The tide would make a difference. Skylan had no way of knowing if it was rising or falling, but if they were at low tide, the high tide might float the dragonship off the sandbar.

He swam back to the ship to tell the others to disembark. Skylan glanced at the dragon’s head. He couldn’t help but think that this disaster served the dragon right. Kahg had allowed the draugr to bring them here and then dump them on a sandbar. The eyes of the Dragon Kahg were hooded. Treading water, Skylan could see only a narrow red glint of light, and the light looked angry.

“Unload everything!” Skylan yelled up at those still on board. “Lighten the weight!”

Garn understood, and he and Aylaen and Bjorn began gathering up weapons and shields and the supplies that had survived the storm. They lowered sea chests and barrels over the side. Skylan and those in the water began ferrying them to shore. When the last barrel had been thrown into the water, Bjorn jumped in. Garn and Aylaen went to persuade Treia that she should leave. She clung to the rail, shaking her head violently.

“She can’t swim!” Garn called.

“Toss her down. I’ll catch her!” Skylan cried, and before Treia could protest, Garn picked her up and lowered her over the side.

Treia fell into Skylan’s arms with a gasp and grabbed him around the neck with a clutch that nearly strangled him.

“Let loose and stop kicking!” he ordered. “You’re going to drown us both!”

“The spiritbone!” Treia spluttered, clawing at him in panic.

“I have it, Treia!” Aylaen called out.

Skylan took Treia to the shore. Men were sorting through the supplies, cleaning the salt water off their weapons.

Skylan stripped off his shirt and was spreading it out in the sand to dry when Aylaen came hastening up to him. He glowered, warning her away. As always, she ignored him.

“Raegar’s missing,” she said.

Skylan frowned at her, then shrugged. “He’s around. Probably off in the bushes taking a crap.”

“No, he’s not, Skylan,” said Aylaen insistently. “I’ve looked. Treia’s looked, and so have Garn and some of the others. Raegar’s not here. He’s not anywhere. And there’s something else. Erdmun says he saw Raegar fall into the water. No one’s seen him since.”

Aylaen drew in a shaking breath. “I . . . we’re afraid he may have drowned.”

Skylan snorted. “The water’s not that deep. Raegar would have to work really hard to drown in it.”

“Raegar was standing at the stern, not the prow like the rest of us. Erdmun says Raegar fell into the deep water on the other side of the sandbar. And he told Treia he couldn’t swim.”

Skylan instituted another search. He sent men into the thick stands of wind-stunted pine trees and others back out into the sea to search the clear waters of the bay. He and Erdmun swam back to the sandbar, boarded the dragonship, and walked to the stern.

“He was standing here looking out to sea when the ship struck,” said Erdmun. “He pitched over headfirst.”

“Did you see what happened to him? Hear him cry or shout?” Skylan asked.

Erdmun shook his head and pointed to a large swelling purple bump on his forehead. “I was knocked off my feet. I think I must have blacked out a moment, so I didn’t hear anything.”

Skylan stared down into the dark blue water.

The sea was fathoms deep here, not shallow as it was on the other side of the sandbar. Raegar was a large man, big-boned, heavy, and muscular. He would have sunk like a sack of boulders.

Skylan shook his head and said a silent prayer to Torval for his cousin’s soul. Raegar had returned from the dead, and now he’d gone back there. Torval be with him. Skylan and Erdmun swam back to shore.

Aylaen looked hopefully at Skylan. He shook his head. “No sign of him.”

Treia crouched in the sand, her thin arms wrapped around herself, her nails digging into her flesh. She said nothing. She did not weep. She stared with burning eyes and livid face out to sea.

Aylaen tried to comfort her. “Treia, I’m so sorry. Raegar was a good man—”

Treia stiffened, went rigid. She flashed a bitter glance at Aylaen, a glance that was like a blow. Treia stood up and walked off across the sand, her wet robes trailing behind her.

The men watched in uncomfortable silence, uncertain what to do or say.

“Go with your sister,” Skylan told Aylaen. “She shouldn’t be wandering around here alone. Garn, go with them. Take your weapons.”

Garn picked up his axe and shield and hastened off after Aylaen.

Skylan faced the men. “Raegar was our clansman. We grieve his loss. There will be time later to honor the dead. Now we must think of the living.”

He sent a few men to scout the area and find fresh water and hunt for deer
or rabbits. The rest went to work building shelters amid the pine trees, cleaning and oiling the weapons, and rolling chain mail in the sand to rid it of rust.

“I will go to the Hall of Vektia, to pay our respects to Vindrash,” said Skylan. “I will thank her for guiding us here.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Bjorn objected. “It’s not safe. Someone should go with you.”

“We’re on the Dragon Isles. We are known here,” Skylan returned.

“But you said that Vindrash was angry with us for having lost the sacred torque—”

“I’m going alone,” Skylan stated in a grim tone that silenced further argument from Bjorn or anyone else.

Skylan knew he was acting recklessly, venturing off on his own. He could not risk bringing a companion, however, for he did not plan to pay his respects to Vindrash. He planned to humble himself before her, fall down on his knees, beg her forgiveness. The draugr had guided him here, perhaps for this very reason. Skylan hoped that if Vindrash forgave him, she could persuade the draugr to quit tormenting him.