Doom of the Dragon (10 page)

Acronis was saying something to Aylaen and Farinn about the fog not being scientific or something like that when Wulfe heard the oceanids excitedly calling his name.

He twisted to his feet and went to the rail and leaned over very far to be able to see. The fog twined and twisted over the water. The oceanids were jumping from the waves crying out, “Your Highness, we found him!”

A dragonship festooned in seaweed glided close. Wulfe peered through the fog, straining his eyes, and after a moment he could make out the figure of an Ugly standing at the rail beside a god, who was short and fat and greasy looking.

“Skylan!” Wulfe cried joyfully. “Aylaen, come quick! Skylan's here! I told you he wasn't dead!”

He couldn't see her, but he could hear Acronis remonstrating with her. “Aylaen, you have to do something about Wulfe. I am fond of the boy, but he did try to set fire to the ship—”

“I'll go talk to him,” said Aylaen.

She seemed wrapped in fog. She was wearing a shawl over her head to protect her from the damp. She was pale, as though all the blood had been sucked out of her.

“Wulfe, you have to stop lying,” she said wearily.

“But it's Skylan! On a dragonship,” said Wulfe, jabbing his finger in the direction of the boat. “Can't you see him? He's right there in front of you.”

Aylaen looked into the gray mist, sighed and said in a harsh tone, “We are burying Skylan tonight.”

She turned on her heel and started to walk away.

“Aylaen, don't go! Skylan, say something to her!” Wulfe cried. “She thinks you are dead!”

“Aylaen,” Skylan called to her. “My beloved wife.”

Aylaen stopped walking. She looked back, over her shoulder. Acronis and Farinn came running.

“I heard the boy cry out. What is wrong?” Acronis asked.

“Wulfe says Skylan is out there in a boat,” said Aylaen.

“Aylaen…,” Acronis began in gentle tones.

“No, I didn't believe him either, Legate, but then I heard his voice. Skylan's voice. He spoke my name. I think Wulfe is right. Can you see anything? I can't. The fog is too thick.”

Acronis stared into the mist. Farinn leaned out over the rail to try to see.

“He's in a dragonship right in front of you!” Wulfe said crossly.

Acronis shook his head and frowned. Farinn drew back with a sigh.

“Their eyes are mortal, child of the fae,” said the fat god. “They can't see us.”

Wulfe didn't know this god. The Uglies had so many gods he couldn't keep track, and he didn't really care.

“Skylan, come back to us,” said Wulfe. “Your body is here waiting for you. I've missed you horribly. Nothing has gone right since you left.”

“I want to come back, Wulfe, more than anything,” said Skylan. “But I made a promise to Joabis that I would go with him to the Isle of Revels. My friends are there and I must talk to them.”

“He speaks the truth, Your Highness!” the oceanids said, splashing about beneath the keel. “We are taking him there. Tell her! Tell his wife! She must follow.”

Wulfe turned to Aylaen. “Skylan is with a god named Joabis. They're sailing to this god's island to look for some of Skylan's friends.”

“Aylaen, come away. You don't have listen to this,” said Acronis.

“No, wait,” said Aylaen.

She stared into the mist, her eyes wide, intense, and unblinking.

“What friends?” she asked Wulfe.

“Tell her Sigurd and Grimuir, Bjorn and Erdmun,” said Skylan. “She will remember. I sent them back to our homeland to warn them about Raegar, but somehow their souls are with Joabis. I have to find out what happened to them and help them if I can.”

“I don't know why you have to find them,” said Wulfe, scowling. He didn't like Sigurd. “Good riddance.”

“Tell her what I said,” said Skylan, his voice grating.

“He says Sigurd and Grimuir and Bjorn and Erdmun,” said Wulfe. “Joabis has their souls.”

“Their souls?” Aylaen repeated, dazed. Shivering, she clasped the shawl around her tightly. “I think
I
must be going mad. I seem to hear his voice.…”

“Let me go to her!” Skylan begged Joabis.

“If you want to, I can't stop you,” said Joabis. “But it won't do any good.”

“Sail closer,” Skylan told the oceanids.

They pulled Joabis's ship nearer to the
Venejekar
, so close that the hulls rubbed together. Skylan climbed over the rail into the
Venejekar
and walked up to Aylaen.

“My love, my wife, my own,” he said.

He kissed her.

At his touch, Aylaen gasped and put her hand to her cheek.

“Skylan!” she cried and reached out her hands, grasping the fog, letting the shawl slip to the deck.

“You promised to come with me, Skylan Ivorson!” Joabis shouted. “You cannot stay.”

“The Dragon Kahg knows the way, Aylaen,” said Skylan, returning to Joabis's dragonship. “I will be waiting for you!”

“I'll come, Skylan!” Aylaen promised. “I will find you!”

The oceanids pulled the dragonship away. Skylan stood on the deck, watching Aylaen until his ship vanished in the mist.

“He is gone, isn't he,” Aylaen murmured. “And I must follow.”

She turned and ran across the deck, calling to the dragon. “Kahg, the ship bearing Skylan. Joabis's ship. Go after them!”

The Dragon Kahg was already sailing in pursuit. His red eyes, blazing in the fog, swiveled around and aimed their lurid glow at the boy.

“Told you so,” said Wulfe.

Kahg gave an irate snort that caused the ship to rock alarmingly. Wulfe had to grab hold of the bulkhead to keep from falling overboard.

 

CHAPTER

8

The Isle of Revels was beautiful as a summer's day in Skylan's homeland. From the deck of the dragonship, he gazed at an immense island with rolling hills of green forests and lush golden fields. The clear blue water reflected a clear blue sky.

Leaving the ship in the shallow water, he waded ashore, walking out of the surf onto grass-covered dunes. In the distance he could see a village that looked much like his village, including a tall and imposing longhouse that must be the Chief's Hall.

Skylan paused and looked back, to see if he could catch sight of the
Venejekar
. That brief glimpse of Aylaen, pale and grieving, and the sight of his body that she had so lovingly tended filled Skylan with sorrow. He could still feel the touch of her skin warm on his lips and see the joy in her eyes when she realized he had not died.

Skylan did not know how he had ever found the courage to leave her. He could not explain it, except that as his love for her made it hard for him to leave, her love gave him the strength to go.

“She's coming. Don't be so impatient,” said Joabis, splashing through the water. “That dragon of yours knows where to find me.”

“When she arrives, you will send me back to join her,” Skylan confirmed. “That is our bargain.”

Joabis kept walking and did not answer. He was headed toward the village and now Skylan could hear music and singing, shouting and uproarious laughter. Eager to join the merriment, the god could move fast when he chose and Skylan had to run to catch up with him. He took hold of Joabis by the shoulder and spun him around.

“I said—that is our bargain!”

“Of course it is, my dear friend,” said Joabis with an ingratiating smile. “You have my word.”

He patted Skylan on the shoulder and then hurried off toward the village, leaving Skylan to grimly stare after him.

“The bastard has no intention of keeping our bargain,” Skylan muttered. Aloud he called after the god, “Where are my warriors?”

Getting no response, Skylan could do nothing except trudge after the god, thinking that perhaps his men were in the village, joining the celebration. As they drew nearer, he could see men and women dancing in the streets.

“Is today a feast day?” he asked.

“Every day is a feast day!” Joabis said. “We always find a reason to make merry.”

Spreading his arms wide, he shouted, “My friends! I am back!”

The dancing stopped as the villagers ran to greet Joabis. The women kissed him and teased him. Someone handed him a mug of ale, as a group of men hoisted the god to their shoulders and, singing uproariously, started to carry him away.

“Joabis, wait!” Skylan cried, running after him. “Where are my men?”

Joabis looked back over his shoulder and made a vague gesture.

“The Chief's Hall!” he bawled, waving his mug. “You'll be able to hear them. Like I said, they're wrecking the place!”

The riotous crowd bore Joabis away. A few women invited Skylan to come with them, but he scornfully refused. Shrugging and laughing, they ran off. Once again Skylan thought of the valiant souls of the warriors in Torval's Hall, fighting against Aelon's fiends, while these fools danced and drank. He grew angry and began to wonder about his friends.

Perhaps they were here because they wanted to be here.

The longhouse stood some distance from the village, across a green field filled with wildflowers. The building appeared to have been hastily constructed and was in a deplorable condition of disrepair. He could see holes in the thatched roof and timbers sagging and starting to rot.

Reaching the door, he did not immediately go inside. He had no idea what he might be facing when he entered that building and he stood with his ear pressed against the door, listening.

Joabis had said his men were wrecking the place, but Skylan could not hear anything and that was alarming. He thought wrathfully that if Joabis had deceived him, he would shove a wineskin down his throat.

Skylan gave the door a tentative push, expecting it to be barred. To his surprise, the door swung open on creaking, rusty hinges. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword and cautiously walked in.

The hall had no windows and was lit only by a few rays of sunlight straggling through the holes in the roof. The cavernous chamber was hazy with smoke from a poorly vented fireplace. The shields hanging from the walls were covered with dust and cobwebs. Plank tables had been overturned. Trestles and benches were scattered about the floor.

Skylan stared in bleak dismay, thinking he had come too late to save his friends. Bodies of Vindrasi and ogre warriors lay sprawled on the floor, draped over the tables or the long wooden benches. The hall was covered in blood and the smell of death was overwhelming.

And then one of the corpses belched.

Skylan bent down to examine the bodies more closely and realized to his chagrin that the horrible stench in the air was not the smell of death. It was the smell of piss and vomit.

The warriors were not dead.

They were dead drunk.

Filled with shame for his people, Skylan stalked into the hall and began kicking at those on the floor, trying to rouse them and searching for his friends.

“Where is Sigurd?” he demanded, going from one to another. “I'm looking for a man called Sigurd? Have you seen him?”

Men mouthed curses and passed out again.

“Sigurd! Erdmun! Bjorn!” Skylan yelled until he finally heard what he thought was a mumbled response.

He stepped over bodies until he came to a man with black hair and a black beard slumped on a table. Skylan grabbed the man by the hair and lifted his head.

“Sigurd!” Skylan eyed him in disgust. “Sober up! We need to talk!”

Sigurd had seen forty winters, and he had never thought the much younger Skylan should be chief over him. Dour and hot tempered, he had few friends. For all that, Sigurd was a fierce warrior. He looked at Skylan with bloodshot, bleary eyes.

“Piss off,” he said thickly.

Skylan slammed Sigurd's forehead against the table.

Howling in pain, Sigurd clenched his fist, took a swing at Skylan, missed, and fell off the bench.

Skylan grabbed a mug of stale ale and tossed it into his face. Sigurd sputtered, wiped his eyes, and gave a bitter laugh.

“If it isn't the great Skylan Ivorson. So Joabis caught you, too.”

“Caught me?” Skylan repeated. “What do mean ‘caught me'? I came here of my own free will searching for you and the others. I feared something dire had happened to you. Instead I find you swilling ale.”

“Ale. A good idea,” Sigurd said.

He picked up a mug and tried to drink, only to find it was empty.

“You spilled it,” he said to Skylan. “Fetch me more.”

“I'll be damned if I—” Skylan began.

Sigurd scowled. “
You'll
be damned! We're all damned! We're dead and it's all your fault! You sent us off in that rat-infested, leaky whoreson of an ogre ship.”

He propped his elbows on the table and let his head sag into his hands. Skylan sat down across from him.

“How did you die?”

“We were caught in a storm.” Sigurd's face paled beneath the thick growth of beard. “I have sailed the seas all my life and I have never seen a storm like it. The sun fled. The day grew black as night. Clouds of black and green whirled above us, turning into a waterspout that sped across the sea, sucking up the seawater and roaring like a thousand fiends. The whipping winds shredded the sail and broke off the mast. I knew we were doomed and I drew my sword so that I would die a warrior and then wind tore the ship apart. The raging seas dragged me under. I held my breath as long as I could, but the pain was too great and I gave up.”

Sigurd sat in morose silence, recalling his death. Skylan was quiet a moment out of respect, then said, “What happened next?”

Sigurd shrugged. “I woke up here. Grimuir and Erdmun and Bjorn were with me. They're somewhere.” He cast a vague glance around.

“So Joabis brought you here,” said Skylan.

Sigurd snorted. “As if he dared! I would have slit him from gizzard to gullet. Vindrash brought us and all the Vindrasi warriors.”