Rage of the Dragon (8 page)

“Stick to the plan,” said Skylan.

It was all he had.

The shaman also recognized Skylan, it seemed, for he was talking excitedly to the godlord.

“I am Bear Walker, Godlord of the Fleet,” the ogre said proudly. “My shaman tells me that you have the blood of a godlord on your hands.”

Skylan couldn’t very well deny this, not without lying, and he’d had a bellyful of lies.

“My friend’s name is Keeper of the Flame,” Skylan called back. “He saved my life and I vowed I would honor him by bringing his body to his people.”

Skylan jabbed a finger behind him, pointing to the burning city. “Like Keeper, I was a slave in that evil place. He helped me and my friends escape. When the fog came, I could have dumped his body and sailed safely to my homeland. I could have ordered my dragon to attack you. Instead, I come in peace, as you see. I risk my life to fulfill my vow to my friend.”

In pointing to Sinaria, Skylan had also unfortunately drawn attention to Raegar’s ship, moving slowly, but closing the distance between them. The godlord eyed the war galley that had been refitted with a dragonhead prow.

“This is a trick,” said the godlord angrily. “You and your human friends plan to attack us.”

“Those humans are
not
my friends!” Skylan shouted. “Their evil god, Aelon, seeks to enslave the Vindrasi people, as well as yours. I come to you
and
to the Gods of Raj in friendship. I will prove it if your ship will join my ship. We will fight them together.”

The godlord conferred with the shaman. The shaman was opposed, but the godlord was clearly tempted. Skylan put himself in the godlord’s place. The ogres had been close to defeating the Sinarians, so close they must have been able to taste the sweetness of victory. Then the Vektia dragon had appeared, attacking friend and foe alike, raining down flood and fire, terror and destruction, and forcing the victorious ogres to flee for their lives.

The ogres had lost the battle they had assured their people they would win. Their homecoming would be dismal, if not disastrous. This godlord, commander of the fleet, would be forced to confess that he and his troops had been routed—provided he lived long enough to confess anything. Ogres gained promotion through assassination and this godlord’s standing among the other ogres must be extremely low. A few of those underlings must be thinking this was now their chance. Skylan was giving him a chance to strike a parting blow, salvage at least some of his honor.

Of course Raegar had his dragon, the young Dragon Fala. Raegar was now dependent on the power of the dragon to sail his ship. If he ordered her to attack Skylan, he would have to rely on the wind or the muscle in the arms of his rowers to sail his vessel. His galley’s speed would be reduced to a crawl.

The godlord made a peremptory gesture, cutting off the shaman’s argument, and ordered his warriors to draw up the boarding ropes. He was going to agree to the attack. Before Skylan could say a word, a piercing shriek caused his hair to stand on end.

Screaming Raegar’s name, Treia began waving her arms and jumping up and down and pointing at something.

“She’s gone mad!” Skylan said to himself.

Raegar was still some distance away, too far to hear or see her. Skylan looked to see what she was pointing at so wildly and saw another ogre ship. Treia was pointing at Sigurd, trying to draw Raegar’s attention.

Skylan snorted. Let her yell herself hoarse. Raegar couldn’t hear her from this distance.

“Raegar’s ship is changing course, Skylan!” Acronis reported.

“What? That’s not possible. How—” He looked at Acronis, who had his spyglass to his eye, and he knew how. Raegar must have a spyglass of his own. He could see Treia, if he could not hear her. He could see the deck of the
Venjekar
. What he would
not
see were Sigurd and the other Torgun warriors on board the ogre ship.

“Shut her up!” Skylan bellowed. “Take her below!”

But he was too late. The harm was done.

“Raegar’s changed course,” Acronis repeated, adding, “He’s chasing after Sigurd. And as slowly as that ogre ship your goddess gave us is moving, Raegar’s new dragonship has a fair chance of catching him.”

Skylan was cursing his luck and wondering if Aylaen would care very much if he lopped off her sister’s head when Farinn gave a warning shout. Skylan whipped around to see the ogre godlord flanked by ten ogres, all carrying massive spears.

All the spear points were aimed at Skylan.

“It was a trap!” the godlord roared.

“No, I swear by Torval—”

“I saw your female signaling to your friends! Surrender your ship to me or die!”

Skylan barely heard. He was instead focused on a strange sight. He could suddenly see the thread of his own wyrd stretching across the sea, running from the base of the World Tree, where the three Norn sat spinning, to where he stood on the
Venjekar
. As he watched, the thread split. One strand continued on unbroken toward the far horizon. The other stopped only a short distance ahead, slashed, cut short.

Skylan clasped the amulet of Torval around his neck and spoke a prayer. The threads remained and he knew the vision was real, sent to him by the god, and that it had to do with the decision he was about to make. The question: which wyrd was which? And should that even matter?

A spear thudded to the deck at his feet.

CHAPTER

7

“Be with me, Torval!” Skylan breathed, touching the amulet. He yanked the spear out of the deck and brandished it, holding it aloft, not threatening, but as a call to battle.

“I will prove that I am a friend!” Skylan shouted. He turned to Aylaen and said loudly, for all to hear, “Command the Dragon Kahg! We are going to attack Raegar’s ship.”

Aylaen stared at him, open-mouthed. She could command the dragon all she liked, but would he listen? Aylaen glanced at the spear-wielding ogres, gulped a little, and then clasped the spiritbone of the Dragon Kahg in her hand. Her lips moved. She reached down, dipped the spiritbone in one of the puddles.

“What is she doing?” Acronis asked, lowering his spyglass.

“Summoning the dragon,” said Skylan. He added beneath his breath, “I hope…”

He waited tensely, keeping an eye on the ogres.

“They’ve freed their anchor,” Farinn reported.

Aylaen cast the spiritbone in the air. The bone hung there for a moment. Skylan watched it, praying to every god in the pantheon that the Dragon Kahg would materialize.

The bone fell to the deck.

Aylaen cast Skylan a despairing glance. He sighed deeply and wondered what he was going to do next. The ogre godlord was arguing with the shaman, who was insisting that the dragonship was cursed and they should set it on fire and destroy it. The godlord—perhaps picturing himself returning home in triumph aboard the captured
Venjekar
—wanted to seize the ship. The godlord had no objection to killing Skylan and his people, but he wanted their ship.

Skylan picked up his sword and buckled it on.

“Skylan, look!” Aylaen cried.

The wooden dragon’s head had changed into a living, breathing head. Carved scales, their paint worn and faded, glittered and sparkled brilliant green-blue in the sunshine. The mouth—open in a perpetual fang-revealing snarl—roared defiance. The dragon and the
Venjekar
were one.

“Brace yourselves!” Skylan shouted, grabbing hold of the mast. The
Venjekar
swung around and surged ahead, leaping over the ocean, the white foam churning beneath the keel, the white-tipped waves breaking over the bow.

The ogres were astounded by the ship’s transformation from boat to dragon. A few flung their spears, but they fell harmlessly into the water. Then one ogre cried out and soon the others were roaring. They had spotted Sigurd in the ogre vessel. Having no way of knowing that this ogre ship wasn’t being manned by ogres, the godlord must be thinking his odds had improved. He began issuing orders. His ship veered round to catch the wind, the sail billowed. The godlord was determined to gain himself a dragonship.

Skylan would have to deal with the ogres eventually. But now, one foe at a time.

With the
Venjekar
sailing under the dragon’s control, Skylan hoisted up the useless rudder and stowed it on the deck, then went over to Acronis, who had resumed watching Raegar’s ship. Acronis offered Skylan the spyglass. Skylan shook his head. He had tried looking into that glass and had been shocked when people who were far away suddenly leaped right in front him. He considered it unnatural.

“What’s Raegar doing?” Skylan asked.

“Watching us,” Acronis reported. “And chasing after Sigurd.”

“And Sigurd?”

Acronis shifted the spyglass. He shook his head. “He’s doing his best, but ogre ships were not built for speed.”

“Do we have enough speed to stop Raegar before he reaches Sigurd’s ship?”

Acronis smiled. “I’ve never sailed with a dragon before. I find the experience exhilarating, but it’s throwing off my calculations.”

He squinted, gazing out over the shimmering waves, measuring the distance with his eyes. “Yes, I think we will be able to reach Raegar before he reaches your friends.” Acronis lowered the glass and chuckled. “Sailing with a dragon. I cannot wait to tell Chloe.”

Reassured as to their chances of catching Raegar, Skylan looked back at the ogre ship. The ogres were falling behind, but they were still coming. That godlord was persistent. The shaman shook his fist and yelled something. Skylan, remembering the magic spell the shaman had cast on him, felt his skin crawl. He hoped they were too far for the magic to have any effect.

He watched the race, dragon against dragon. The two ships bounded over the waves. He could see for himself now that the
Venjekar
was gaining. For the moment, there was nothing to do except trust in Kahg. Aylaen cast a glance at him that seemed to invite him to come join her where she stood at the bow. The wind blew her hair back from her face. Her lips were parted, her eyes shining. Wulfe was beside her, leaning over the rail, shouting at the waves.

Skylan walked over to Aylaen. She moved closer to him. More nervous than he’d ever been standing in the shield wall, facing death, he held her hand. In the past she would have been offended, drawn away, made some caustic remark. Her cheeks flushed. She gave his hand a brief squeeze.

“If I died this moment,” Skylan said, “I would go to Torval’s Hall happy.”

Aylaen’s eyes darkened, changing in an instant from warm green to frozen gray. She stalked off, moving to the other side of the dragon.

Skylan stared after her, blinking in bewilderment.

“Why is she mad at me?” Skylan asked.

“Because you have cow turds for brains,” said Wulfe. “And you never listen.”

“I’m listening now,” said Skylan with a sigh. “What do your fish friends have to say?”

“That it’s too late.”

The boy went back to pouting down at the creamy froth of the waves. Skylan cast a hopeful glance at Aylaen, but she was very pointedly not interested in him. She stood tall, her back rigid, her jaw set.

Skylan walked over to Acronis. “Did you hear what I said? Why is she angry? It was a compliment!”

“Ah, son,” said Acronis with a shake of his head. “You may be a mighty warrior, but you are a mewling babe when it comes to love. The man whose spirit you freed in the Temple. His name was Garn, I think. Aylaen loved him and he died in battle. And now she is learning to love you and now
you
talk about dying. She is not angry. She is afraid.”

Skylan could have kicked himself. “I never thought about it that way. Why is it that every word I say to her comes out wrong?”

“Because those words come from your heart, not your head,” said Acronis. He kindly changed the subject. “We’re definitely gaining on Raegar.”

Skylan could see that for himself. The gap between the two ships was rapidly closing. He was glad to be able to turn his thoughts from love to such uncomplicated subjects as war and death.

“Raegar’s dragon is growing tired. She has traveled a far distance, all the way from Sinaria.”

Acronis regarded Skylan with interest. “How is that possible? Will our dragon tire?”

“Dragons are strong, but they lack stamina and endurance,” Skylan explained. “They can fly only short distances before they must stop to rest, which is why they sail the seas with us in search of the gemstones that are Ilyrion’s blood. Kahg is rested.”

Sounds of beating drums echoed over the water.

“That’s interesting,” said Acronis. “Raegar is ordering the rowers to take their positions. See, they are fitting the oars into the oarlocks.”

The rowers thrust their oars in the water. The drummer pounded, beating out the time. The oars moved rhythmically, blades flashing in the sunlight, water sparkling and splashing as the oars plunged into the waves. The rowers aboard the war galley were not slaves. They were men of the city, proud of their job and skilled at their work. The rowers propelled the galley through the water, though the pace was slower than when the Dragon Fala had been sailing the ship.

Sigurd was now starting to pull away. The Dragon Kahg kept the
Venjekar
on course, aiming at Raegar’s ship. Behind them, the ogre ship was trying gamely to overtake the
Venjekar
. They could not hope to keep up with the speed of the dragon through the water. The ogre godlord and the shaman stood at the prow of their ship that was falling behind, but still in the chase.

“Raegar has removed something from the dragon’s carved neck,” Acronis reported, staring intently through the spyglass. “I can’t make out what—”

“His dragon’s spiritbone,” Skylan guessed, glancing at the spiritbone of the Dragon Kahg that again hung on a leather thong suspended from the carved dragonhead. “Of course, that’s why he’s using the rowers. He’s going to summon his dragon.”

Aylaen had reached the same conclusion, apparently, for she left her position near the dragon’s head to hurry over to talk to them.

“Aylaen, I’m sorry,” Skylan said as she drew near. “I wasn’t thinking.”