Rage of the Dragon (24 page)

Skylan found this concept baffling. “Yet their women claim to be the warriors. Do the women fight battles while the men stay home to suckle babes?”

Acronis yawned widely and made himself as comfortable as was possible trapped in a net. The light was fading, night falling. Farinn, with the ease of youth, had gone to sleep long before this.

Acronis closed his eyes and gave another yawn. “Perhaps these people are peace-loving and need no warriors. Perhaps there are no wars for them to fight.”

Skylan pondered this notion. He recalled that the Aquin warriors had not killed the kraken. They had driven it away with jabs from their spears. Thinking of the kraken made him recall those hellish moments when he thought he was going to drown. He shook the thoughts from his mind and tried to find some sort of comfortable way to position himself in the net.

That being impossible, he settled himself as best he could, thinking and worrying about Aylaen, and drifted off into an uncomfortable slumber.

*   *   *

Skylan woke with an aching back, a stiff neck, and itching all over. The prison cell was dimly lit with the coming of dawn. Guards entered, lowered the nets, and escorted the prisoners one by one to a pool where they were allowed to bathe and perform ablutions. The women took away their clothes, which were stiff with salt water, and gave each of them one of the odd-looking robes and a loincloth to wrap around their hips. Farinn was abashed in the presence of the women, who grinned when they saw him blush in shame for his nakedness.

Once they were dressed, they were not returned to the nets. They were given food and drink and informed that the Aquin commander was coming to speak with them.

“I would advise you to be diplomatic,” said Acronis. “If you want to see Aylaen.”

Skylan grudgingly admitted that this was probably sound advice, but all his good intentions went up in smoke the moment Commander Neda entered the prison cell. Skylan jumped to his feet.

“I want to see Aylaen. I want my ship. And the fae child. The boy who was with me? Where is he?”

“You make a lot of demands for a man who spent the night in a net,” said Neda coldly. “Your Queen is in the palace. She is safe and well. As for your ship, it is harbored outside the city. You need not worry about it. We are hardly likely to steal it,” Neda added wryly. She shrugged. “The last I saw of the fae child, he was with the oceanaids.”

“I want to see Aylaen,” Skylan said insistently.

“Your Queen has requested that you attend her;
our
Queen has approved her request,” said the commander. “You and the others will accompany me to the palace.”

“Queen?” Skylan was puzzled. This was the second time she’d referred to a queen. “What Queen—”

Acronis gave a cough. “She means Aylaen,” said Acronis.

“Aylaen? But she is not—”

Acronis cleared his throat with a loud
argh-um
.

Skylan took the hint and did not speak again to the Aquin commander. He smiled reassuringly at Farinn, who was looking frightened and overwhelmed, and praised him again for his bravery in saving Aylaen. Farinn smiled, pleased, and relaxed.

The commander went to summon her warriors.

“What is this about Aylaen being a queen?” Skylan asked Acronis.

“As I said, in this society, women are the rulers. Aylaen must have said something that led them to believe she was a Vindrasi ruler. You need to support her,” Acronis admonished him.

“Even though I am Chief of Chiefs, I should pretend that Aylaen is my ruler?” Skylan frowned.

“Does that bother you?” Acronis asked with a slight smile.

“Women rule the household and raise the children. Men govern and fight the wars. That is how the gods intended,” said Skylan. “These people have got everything backward.”

Acronis was now chuckling. Skylan wondered why.

CHAPTER

23

The throne room of the palace was located in the center beneath a domed ceiling decorated with a mosaic that portrayed colorful fish, whales and dolphins, and coral. An opening in the ceiling admitted air and sunlight. The only furniture was the Queen’s throne, which was made of teak adorned with seashells and twelve blue-green sapphires set in a semicircle above the Queen’s head.

A male Aquin, presumably the Queen’s consort, was present when Aylaen entered, along with three young women, who must be the Queen’s daughters, by their resemblance to their mother. The eldest was perhaps Aylaen’s own age and that made Aylaen uncomfortable. Would this woman take her seriously or dismiss her as a child? The Queen introduced herself as Magali and her husband as Tai. He regarded Aylaen with a penetrating gaze and spoke a few words to the Queen. She rested her hand on his briefly, then he and the daughters left the room.

Aylaen stood alone at the far end. She was nervous. She did not want to give offense, yet she intended to be strong, deny these foolish charges that they were invaders, and free herself and her people, and her ship. She adopted a stance that she hoped appeared bold and self-confident, yet tempered with respect.

Queen Magali was perhaps in her forties. Her face was smooth and youthful, though not untouched by care and worry. She wore the simple caftan of her people, no jewels, no golden crown, and only a circlet of seashells that held back her hair from her face. The queen’s expression was serious as she regarded Aylaen, yet there had been a sweetness in her smile when she had spoken to her husband and children that made Aylaen’s heart warm to her. As their business commenced, however, the Queen was no longer smiling.

“Come forward,” Queen Magali commanded.

Aylaen walked to within a few feet of the throne and stopped. Was she supposed to bow, kneel? She decided she would not kneel; that would appear too servile. Before she could do anything, the Queen motioned her nearer.

“Give me your hand.”

Mystified, Aylaen drew close to the throne and stretched out her hand. Queen Magali took hold of her hand, pressed it, turned it over, ran her hand over several calluses before releasing her.

Queen Magali’s eyes were cold. “A hand that wields a sword. You were wearing a sword when my warriors found you.”

The Queen gestured and a servant entered, carrying Aylaen’s sword, the blessed sword of Vindrash.

“Is this weapon yours?” the Queen asked. She seemed disapproving.

“It is mine,” Aylaen answered, adding defensively, “your warriors carry weapons, Your Majesty.”

“My warriors do not carry swords. They carry the trident and the spear in order to fend off sea predators, such as sharks and kraken,” said the Queen. “We do not kill even these predators if we can help it. We do not kill each other. We do not believe that the goal of a man’s life is to die with a sword in his belly and the blood of another on his hands.”

Aylaen was startled. She had never heard the Vindrasi described in such terms. She was about to angrily defend her people when she realized that Queen Magali was simply stating the truth. To die a hero with his sword in his hand was a warrior’s dearest ambition. Those like Skylan’s father, who grew old and died in their beds, were looked upon with pity.

Aylaen realized suddenly she had been standing for long moments in brooding silence and she feared the Queen might think she was sullen or obdurate. She flushed and said, “I did not mean to be rude—”

Queen Magali smiled slightly. “I have been following your thoughts in your eyes. The fire in your eyes, ready to defend your people. The lowering of your eyes, the fire quenched by doubt. The widening of your eyes in wise, sorrowful understanding.”

“I am not certain I understand anything anymore, Your Majesty,” said Aylaen, suddenly feeling very young and vulnerable.

“Tell me your story,” said Queen Magali.

Aylaen drew in a deep breath and wondered where to start. She didn’t want to talk about the Vektia dragon and so she began her tale when they were out at sea.

“Our ship was dragged beneath the waves by a terrible sea monster, Your Majesty,” said Aylaen. “The mast fell … I was drowning and I don’t remember anything else until I was able to breathe again with a mask on my face and your warriors tending to me…”

“And what of your dragon?” asked the Queen with an intent look. “You Vindrasi have sailed our seas in your dragonships for centuries. We have rescued your people from drowning down through the ages. And this is how you repay us—by invading our realm.”

“You misjudge us, Your Majesty,” said Aylaen. “We were made slaves by the Sinarians and managed to escape. We were returning to our homeland when we were attacked by the kraken.” She spread her hands. “If you know Vindrasi, you know that if we were going to invade, we would have had many warriors on our ship and many ships at our command.”

“The Vindrasi delight in battle and conquest,” said the Queen in grim tones. “You were allied with the ogres. The kraken attacked an ogre ship that was near yours and we found the body of a dead ogre godlord on the deck of your ship. A powerful dragon serves you. You have with you a faerie princeling who commands his fae followers to serve you. What are we to think?”

“A faerie princeling?” Aylaen repeated, mystified. “Do you mean Wulfe? Why, he’s just a boy—”

A boy who can change himself into a beast. Aylaen decided it would be best to let that drop. She stopped and tried to think.

“The ogre godlord was a friend of ours who died on our ship. We were going to return his body to his people and that was why we were with the ogres. Your Majesty, we are far, far from the Vindrasi homeland. We have no intention of invading your realm. To be honest, we had no idea your realm even existed!”

“You come at the command of your god, Aelon,” said the Queen in ice-rimmed tones.

Aylaen was about to indignantly deny this accusation, when the thought came to her that this could be a trap. Queen Magali and her people might be followers of Aelon, hoping to inveigle her into denouncing the god. Aylaen’s next words might doom her and her companions. She should tread lightly, feel her way, be diplomatic.

“The hell with that,” Aylaen said to herself wearily. She and her people had done nothing wrong except to be attacked by a sea monster that, for all she knew, this Queen had sent to kill them.

“If you know the Vindrasi as you claim, Your Majesty, then you know that we have always worshipped the Old Gods. I am a priestess of Vindrash. The goddess gave me her blessed sword. The goddess has been at my side since I was a child. I will be true to Vindrash as she has been true to me.”

Queen Magali looked thoughtful. She tapped her fingers on the teak arm of the throne. Aylaen could not tell from the woman’s expression if the Queen believed her or not.

A servant entered and whispered something to the Queen, who nodded and said, “Bring them before me.” The servant departed. The Queen turned to Aylaen.

“Your menfolk are here.”

Aylaen was filled with thankfulness and relief and dismay all at the same time. If there was ever anyone in this world who had no idea how to tread lightly, it was Skylan Ivorson. Aquin guards entered, followed by Skylan, who shook loose of his captors and came crashing into the throne room like a storm-driven wave. Rudely ignoring the Queen, Skylan hurried to Aylaen and took hold of her hands.

“Are you all right?” Skylan moved to embrace her and whispered in her ear. “These people have the Vektan Torque!”

Aylaen stared at him, astonished.

“Say nothing,” Skylan admonished. “Go along with me.”

He drew back and cast the Queen an angry glance, then asked Aylaen abruptly, “Have these people harmed you?”

“I am fine, Skylan,” said Aylaen, wondering uneasily what he was planning. “Her Majesty has been most gracious to me.”

“Well, Her Majesty hasn’t been gracious to me,” said Skylan furiously. “I’ve been treated like a goddamn slave.”

He turned to the Queen, who was tight-lipped with anger at his insult.

“Please, Skylan,” said Aylaen, “Let me handle this—”

Skylan ignored her. Throwing back his head, he announced proudly, “I am Skylan Ivorson, Chief of Chiefs of the Vindrasi. I speak as Chief of Chiefs, from one ruler to another, and I demand that you set us free! We have done nothing wrong. And I insist that you return to us our property—the golden torque your warriors found.”

His words boomed around the dome of the throne room and went nowhere. They seemed to fall to the floor with a thud. If a kraken had then appeared to drag Aylaen down to the bottom of the ocean, she would have been grateful. No one spoke. Skylan glared around defiantly.

Queen Magali turned to Aylaen.

“Is this male your husband?”

Aylaen bit her lip. “He is … he is my betrothed.”

“So he is unmarried. That explains his lack of manners,” said the Queen. “He claims to be a ruler of your people. Is that true?”

“I do not lie!” Skylan said heatedly.

The Queen cast him a cool glance and indicated Aylaen was to answer.

“Skylan is Chief of Chiefs of the Vindrasi, Your Majesty. That is equivalent to a king.”

“And you are their priestess,” said the Queen.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I am a priestess of my people,” said the Queen. “Who are your other menfolk? Let them come forward.”

The guards had brought in Acronis and Farinn. Aylaen introduced them.

“Legate Acronis. He is from Sinaria—”

“A Legate no longer,” said Acronis with a deep bow. “My past is gone. I am Acronis, Your Majesty. And I am glad beyond telling to be in your beautiful realm.”

The Queen seemed pleased by this, for she smiled at Acronis. Her gaze turned to Farinn, who turned red to the ears and gave a nervous bow.

“Farinn Grimshaw,” said Aylaen.

“A Vindrasi warrior,” said Skylan.

Farinn stood staring at the floor. He very slightly shook his head.

“He is a bard, a poet,” Aylaen said.

Farinn cast her a grateful glance.

“Poets are much revered among my people,” said the Queen.

She shifted her gaze at last to Skylan. “You may be a king in your realm, but not here. Your queen will speak for you. Go stand with the other men. And be warned. If you do not hold your tongue, you will be escorted from the room.”