Rage of the Dragon (13 page)

Skylan didn’t have any choice. Either breathe or die. He gasped and was surprised and relieved to feel blessed air flow into his lungs. The woman strapped something onto his back. She pointed to what appeared to be a clamshell she wore on her own back, with a tube leading to the mask on her face. His brain was fuzzy, but he gathered this was what was enabling him to breathe. Dizzy and light-headed, he could do nothing for a few moments except breathe and stare through the portion of the crystal mask over his eyes, allowing him to see beneath the water as strange-looking warrior women attacked the kraken with spears and tridents.

With their sleek glistening bodies and rapid movements they reminded him of dolphins. He could not count their numbers, for they swam and darted about so swiftly he might have been trying to count a school of fish. He guessed there must have been about thirty of them, armed with spears and another weapon that resembled a pitchfork.

Working as a team, some of the warriors jabbed the kraken’s grappling arms with the three-pronged weapons while others used the butt end of their spears to beat on the monster’s head or make threatening motions at the kraken’s eyes. The warriors did not appear to want to kill the kraken, only to force it to flee.

The kraken shot out a jet of ink that turned the water black. The kraken’s arms and tentacles flashed around Skylan, striking him and seizing his rescuer, a tentacle wrapping around her waist, knocking loose the clamshell and dislodging the tube. Bubbles trailed out of her mouth as she fought to free herself, stabbing the tentacle with a knife.

The warrior women attacked the kraken in earnest, stabbing their spears and tridents into the head and arms. Trails of black blood spiraled up into the water as the warriors fought to free their comrade. Whenever they came close to her, the kraken lashed out with its arms, knocking away spears and sending warriors flying as it drew the woman it had captured toward its razor-sharp beak.

She was weakening, Skylan realized. She had lost her breath-mask and was running out of air. He grabbed hold of a loose spear and swam toward the struggling warrior. He stabbed at the tentacle with the spear, but the kraken didn’t even seem to notice. If Skylan couldn’t beat the kraken, he figured he’d join it. He wrapped his arm around the tentacle, putting his body between the warrior and the kraken’s maw.

He had no idea if his plan would work. If not, the razor-sharp beak would rip them both apart. He held on grimly, waiting until the kraken opened its maw to suck them both inside. Skylan stabbed upward with all his strength, driving the spear into the inky darkness, praying to Torval he hit something tender.

The kraken gave a violent jerk. Arms flailed wildly, tentacles whipped, flinging Skylan and the warrior about until finally it released them. Drawing its tentacles and arms close together, the kraken gave up the fight and swiftly swam away. Skylan would have gone after the wounded kraken to kill it, but the warriors appeared satisfied with having driven it off. Several warriors came to the aid of their comrade, placing a mask over her face and helping her breathe. One swam to Skylan and replaced his mask, which had been jostled in the fight with the kraken.

Skylan sagged in the water, barely able to keep his arms and legs moving. He was bleeding freely from numerous round wounds inflicted by the teeth in the kraken’s suckers. His one thought was Aylaen and his friends. He had to find out if they were safe. The woman warrior floating in front of him made clicking sounds that he could hear through the water. Apparently she was talking to him in some sort of fish language. He had no idea what she was saying.

He motioned that he was going to the surface and began to swim that direction. The warrior woman seized hold of his arm and pointed off in a different direction. Skylan shook his head, not wanting to seem ungrateful, but intent upon going to find out what had become of Aylaen and the
Venjekar
. The woman refused to release him. Skylan was angry and tried to free himself. Ten or more women surrounded him, spears and tridents aimed at him.

These people must be the Aquins, he thought to himself. The Vindrasi told tales about the Aquins, a harmless and gentle people known to save drowning victims. Except that these women did not appear to be either gentle or harmless. They regarded him with suspicion, enmity. The woman who had hold of him gestured to two of the warriors, who grabbed his wrists and bound them with what looked like seaweed.

He was immediately aware that the tales were mistaken when they described the Aquins as half-human, half-fish. He decided they were three-quarters human and one quarter fish. The Aquins had arms and legs like his. Their hands were webbed, with skin in between the fingers and thumbs, and their feet had long, webbed toes that made them look more like flippers than feet. Their rib cages were unnaturally large, their limbs slender and lithe.

He thought at first that they had skin that was a mottled blue-gray in color until he realized they were wearing lightweight armor made of fish-skin leather. Their own skin color was a pale green. Their hair color ranged from black to a greenish blond worn in a single braid that floated behind them. They wore helms made of the same kind of leather as their body armor, fitted close to their heads. All of the warriors were women. He looked but could not find any males.

His savior-captors swam off with him, carrying him between them, propelling themselves through the water with their flipper-like feet. He had no idea where they were taking him and no way to ask. He could see the sun shining on the surface that was perhaps three fathoms above him. Some of the warriors had removed their clamshell breathing masks and, swimming to the surface, they took a deep breath, then dove back down. He watched in amazement to see that they remained below water without drawing another breath for a long time and he began to understand why their rib cages were abnormally large. They must have huge lungs.

And then he saw the
Venjekar,
perched on a reef, with the Dragon Kahg keeping guard beside it. The ship was, for the most part, intact. The mast had snapped off. The hull looked to be undamaged, at least from what Skylan could tell at first glance. The dragon’s eyes were fiery red. His wings fanned the water and his tail lashed. When he saw Skylan he bared his fangs. Kahg was still angry. He must have protected the ship from the kraken. Skylan was sorry he had missed seeing that battle. The warrior women were wary of the dragon and careful not to approach. They carried Skylan as close to the ship as they dared and asked by pointing to it and then pointing at him if the ship was his.

Sick with fear, Skylan could not at first respond. No one was on board the
Venjekar
. Bodies of ogres lay among the shattered remnants of their ship. One of the bodies was covered in black feathers. The shaman would not practice his magicks any more. Skylan looked for the godlord, hoping he might find the Vektan Torque, but the godlord had been dressed like the other ogre warriors and he could not tell one body from the next. Skylan did find Keeper’s body, still partially wrapped in the sailcloth, lying near the
Venjekar
. Skylan sighed. He had apologized to Keeper so many times he had no apologies left. They would have a long talk in Torval’s Hall.

Were his people alive? Had they been rescued by the Aquins? Or were they lying dead in the ship’s hold? Skylan tore free of his captors and tried to swim for his ship. He was clumsy and slow in the water and the Aquin warriors caught him with ease. Angry and frustrated, he kicked at them and struck out with his bound hands.

The woman Skylan took to be the commander clicked and whistled a command. One of the warriors removed something from around her waist, untwined it, revealing a net made of seaweed and weighted with shells. She tossed the net over his head and shoulders and it settled around him. Two of the warriors cinched the net shut at his feet.

Enraged, Skylan tried to free himself from the net by tearing at the rope with his hands. The tough, fibrous green rope would not give. He wriggled and kicked and succeeded only in entangling himself in the net. The woman watched him with amusement. At length, realizing he stood no chance of escape and was only making himself look foolish, he ceased struggling.

One of the warriors had spotted something of interest, apparently, for she dove down and now was rummaging about the wreckage of the ogre ship. He saw something glint brightly. She plucked the Vektan Torque from among the debris and, turning it over in her hand to admire it, brought it to her commander. The commander stared at the Torque, then shifted her gaze to Skylan.

He gestured to the Torque and then thumped himself on the chest, indicating—he hoped—that the Torque belonged to him. The commander snorted; he could see the bubbles flowing from her nose. Keeping fast hold of the Torque, the commander motioned for her warriors to resume their journey.

The women pulled Skylan, trapped in the net, through the water. He twisted his head to look back at the dragon. Kahg’s eyes flickered. He was staying with the ship.

Skylan was helpless. He was a prisoner and he could do nothing except go wherever his captors were taking him. He was more worried about Aylaen and his friends than about his own fate. He kept reminding himself that the Aquins had saved his life. He clung to the hope that they had saved Aylaen and the rest.

He looked at his surroundings. He was in a different world, a world he never knew existed. As a boy, Skylan had gone diving for clams and oysters in the cold waters around his homeland. He had never seen sea life as beautiful and varied as this, and despite his anxiety for Aylaen and his people, he gazed in awe and wonder.

Fish of many colors, more colors than the rainbow, glided and darted and flitted about undulating plants or hid among the rocks and coral. Wide chasms opened up beneath him and were suddenly gone. Spiny black sea urchins poked out from beneath rocks. Creatures like globs of wet flour aimlessly floated about, ugly tentacles dangling down from their bodies.

The women hauling his net slowed and drifted to a halt. More warrior women, coming from a different direction, were joining up with them, and there was a great deal of squealing and clicking and whistling between the commander and this new contingent. These women had hold of something that was wriggling and writhing in their grip. Skylan thought at first it was some sort of fish and then realized it was Wulfe.

The boy waved at him and, breaking loose, swam toward him, kicking and paddling in the water. The warriors let him go, making no effort to stop him. Wulfe was grinning widely, enjoying himself. It took Skylan a moment to realize the boy was not wearing a breath-mask, nor was he holding his breath. Bubbles flowed from his mouth.

Wulfe was not alone. He was surrounded by women of startling beauty, with silvery skin and long silver hair that twined about their naked bodies. These were oceanaids, nymphs who lived beneath the sea. They flowed around the boy, fawning over him, moving gracefully with the currents. Some of the oceanaids drifted on their backs. Others twisted and spun in exuberant play with others, who were undulating like porpoises.

The Aquin commander appeared highly annoyed at the sight of the oceanaids and made emphatic gestures, as if asking why her warriors hadn’t chased them off. The warriors pointed at Wulfe, who was now swimming around Skylan, laughing to see him caught in a net and making fish faces at him.

Skylan was so relieved to find the boy that he shoved to the back of his mind the idea that Wulfe could apparently breathe water as easily as he breathed air. Desperate to find out about Aylaen, Skylan tried to rip the mask from his face to ask, though it seemed likely he would drown in the attempt. The mask was tightly stuck and before he could remove it he was stopped by his captors, who gestured sternly at him. Skylan motioned frantically back in the direction of the
Venjekar
. At first Wulfe didn’t know what he wanted and blinked at him in confusion. Skylan was growing frustrated and angry, when Wulfe suddenly grinned. He mouthed Aylaen’s name and made a motion of his hand to indicate her red curls and pointed at the mask Skylan was wearing.

Skylan sagged back in the net, weak with relief. Wulfe mouthed the names of Acronis and Farinn, pointing at the mask and then pointing at the net in which Skylan was trapped. He made a motion of having his wrists bound together.

Skylan understood that Acronis and Farinn were prisoners, like he was. Wulfe had not said the same about Aylaen. Skylan wondered what had become of her, where they were taking her, where they were taking him. Even if Wulfe knew, he and Skylan had reached the limit of their ability to communicate. The Aquin commander had succeeded in shooing away the oceanaids. The lovely nymphs held out their hands to Wulfe, urging him to come join with them. Twisting about in the water, Wulfe waved at Skylan and then swam off.

Apparently a boy who could change himself into a wolf could also change himself into a trout.

Fatigue and pain, awe and confusion and disbelief rushed at Skylan like warriors in an opposing shield wall. He had no weapons to fight them and he sank beneath their onslaught. Weary in body and spirit, he reconciled himself to the fact that he could do nothing except let the thread of his wyrd spin out as it would, go where it may.

BOOK

2

CHAPTER

12

Raegar looked powerful and magnificent standing at the prow of the war galley, his clenched fist raised to heaven, calling down the curse of Aelon upon the
Venjekar,
the dragonship that had humiliated them. The men on board the war galley were impressed and they watched in silence to see if Aelon would respond.

Nothing happened. The ship sailed away, bound on a course that would carry Skylan and the Vektia spiritbone back to Vindraholm. The soldiers—Temple guards, Aelon’s chosen—either didn’t think much of Aelon or they had lost faith in his Warrior-Priest, for they cast dark glances at Raegar and muttered among themselves. Though he was a Warrior-Priest, he was also an outsider, a foreigner, and he had conjured up a dragon, a dangerous and terrifying beast. Most felt they were lucky the dragon had not slain them all.