Doom of the Dragon (24 page)

Wulfe startled him by leaping to his feet.

“But what if she doesn't want to see
me
?” Wulfe cried. “What if she doesn't even remember me? She used to come every night to sing to me and she hasn't come to me in a long time. Not in a long, long time.”

Wulfe collapsed back onto the fishnet and buried his head on his knees.

Aylaen shouted down into the hold, “Skylan, we are ready!”

“I'm needed on deck,” said Skylan to Wulfe.

He paused, then awkwardly rested his hand on the boy's shoulder. “Wulfe, you don't have to go back to your people if you don't want to. You can stay with me.”

“For always?” Wulfe peered up at him through his shaggy hair.

“For always,” said Skylan, smiling.

“You mean until you die,” said Wulfe. “Uglies are always dying.”

“Not much we can do about that,” said Skylan, laughing.

“It's not funny!” said Wulfe. Glaring at Skylan, the boy scrambled to his feet and ran off.

Skylan took his place at the prow, alongside Aylaen. Together, they looked around at the other dragonships. His friends raised oars into the air, indicating they were ready.

“Take us to the land of the Stormlords,” said Skylan.

Kahg steered the
Venejekar
through the water. The sea was sparkling, the skies clear, the wind fair. Skylan looked back at the Isle of Revels, thinking he might see Joabis and his reveling souls celebrating the departure of the rowdy warriors.

The god and the souls must have been in their longhouse, making merry, for he saw no one.

 

BOOK

2

 

CHAPTER

20

The news that the Stormlords had murdered two of Aelon's priests spread throughout the Oran Empire. People were outraged and demanded retribution. When Raegar announced he was going to war, kings and nobles from all over the empire sent soldiers, weapons, and gold.

Raegar's immediate problem was how to transport his vast army to the land of the Stormlords. He could have marched his army overland, for the Stormlords ruled the southern part of the same continent, Kharajis. The march would have taken months, however, and winter was closing in, which meant he would have to wait for spring. Aelon had promised her help, however, and Raegar waited for a miracle.

The miracle came one day, in the form of a decrepit old man who accosted Raegar in front of the temple as he was going to his morning meeting with the priests. Thinking the old man was a beggar, Raegar gave him a coin and bid him be off.

“Two galleys, each as big as a palace, your lordship,” said the old man. “Could be of some use, I'm thinking, and I know where to find 'em.”

The guards were about to hustle the old man out of the emperor's sight, but Raegar stopped them. The old man did not appear to be senile, nor did he have the slovenly look of a beggar, now that Raegar studied him.

“What are you talking about, old man?” Raegar asked.

“Come with me, your lordship, and I'll show you.”

“Lead the way, then,” said Raegar.

“You'll be needing torches,” said the old man. “Terrible dark it is in there.”

Raegar ordered Commander Eolus to fetch torches and they set out. Raegar didn't really believe this tale, but he was intrigued and also glad to have an excuse to avoid yet another boring meeting with the priests, who wanted to advise him on strategy and tactics, about which they knew less than nothing.

Raegar's relationship with the priests had worsened of late, as had his relationship with Aelon herself. Aelon's casual admission that she had killed her own priests had badly shaken Raegar. The thought lurked in his mind that if she could betray them, she could betray him, too. He wanted some proof that she was as loyal to him as he was to her. A miracle would go a long to reassuring him.

Accompanied by Commander Eolus and six members of his guard, Raegar followed the old man to the outskirts of the city. They tramped among the docks and warehouses, eliciting curious stares from the workers, and entered a part of Sinaria that had been long abandoned.

An earthquake had leveled this portion of the city some fifty years ago, causing much destruction and considerable loss of life. Since only the poor had been living here, no one wanted to spend the money to rebuild. The poor who had survived had moved out. Rats had moved in and life went on.

Raegar and his men picked their way through the ruins, dodging the rats that scurried around them in a furry, screeching torrent. Reagar could see that Commander Eolus and his men were growing increasingly uneasy, fearing an ambush. Raegar found the outing enjoyable, a welcome break from the dreary routine of church politics. He winked at Eolus and pushed on.

The old man led them to a cave in the side of one of the Sinarian hills and indicated that Raegar was to enter.

“In there?” Raegar was amused. “Two galleys as big as a palace?”

The old man gave an eager nod.

Raegar shrugged and started forward. Commander Eolus stepped in front of him. “Sir, you're not serious! You don't believe this old geezer.”

“Why would he make up such a tale?” Raegar asked.

“To get you killed, sir,” said Eolus grimly. “At least, let me go in first and check to see if it's crawling with assassins.”

“Nonsense, Commander. We'll go in together. I haven't had a good fight in a long time,” said Raegar. Drawing his sword, he gestured to the old man. “Let's go see your galleys.”

His men lit their torches and Raegar entered the cavern, flanked by Eolus on one side and the old man on the other. The cavern was cool and dry and smelled of wood. He saw no assassins. What he did see, emerging from the darkness, illuminated by the torchlight, were the prows of two enormous war galleys.

Raegar was startled. He had certainly not expected to find war galleys in a cave. He was also disappointed. He had been expecting something far more miraculous.

“Bring the light, your lordship,” said the old man, “and come inspect her. You must get the full effect.”

“What I see are two galleys,” said Raegar.

“The eye can be fooled,” said the old man, grinning.

Raegar took one of the torches himself to view the first galley, accompanied by the old man, who regaled him with the galley's features.

“She is four hundred and twenty feet long, fifty-eight feet from gangway to plank, and seventy-two feet high to the prow ornament.”

Raegar had to admit that the galley was solid, built by men who had obviously taken pride in their labors, unlike the work of today's slipshod laborers. The dry atmosphere and constant temperature of the cave had kept the galley preserved for what the old man claimed to have been over fifty years.

“She and her sister ship were built for the father of our late empress, based on designs that came from an ancient people who once ruled the world, so the story goes,” said the old man. “I was a shipwright, one of many who worked on her. Then came the earthquake. The ships weren't harmed, but many people died in the city. The priests of the old gods—those who came before Aelon—read the omens and said the gods were offended and that work on the galleys must stop immediately or worse disasters would befall.”

“And so the emperor stopped work,” said Raegar.

“He didn't have much choice,” said the old man drily. “Many workers and their families had been killed in the quake and the rest believed the omens and refused to come back.”

He lovingly rested his hand on the hull of one of the galleys. “She's a wonder, and that's no mistake. During a trial run she took aboard over four thousand oarsmen and four hundred other crewmen, and on deck two thousand eight hundred marines.”

Raegar snorted in disbelief. “You exaggerate, old man. No galley, no matter how big, could carry that many.”

“Ah, but
she
can, your lordship,” said the old man with a glint in his eye. “If you'll give me the loan of your torch, I'll show you how…”

Raegar handed over the torch and followed the old man deeper into the cave. At about amidships, he stopped to stare, hardly crediting what he was seeing.

“Blessed Aelon be praised!” Raegar murmured.

For here was an even greater miracle. What he had thought were two separate war galleys were actually two galleys connected by a large platform that extended from one galley to the other.

“Double-prowed and double-sterned,” said the old man. “With room to transport not only men, but war machines, cattle, horses, weapons, and such.”

The old man went on to describe the ingenious system the galley's designers had developed that allowed the rowers on the inner sides of both galleys to row without knocking oars, but Raegar was paying scant attention.

He was making calculations. Two such double-hulled galleys each carrying four thousand rowers, who were also soldiers, and another two thousand marines would give him an army of twelve thousand.

“What do think, Commander?” Raegar asked.

“She is certainly impressive, sir,” said Eolus. “But a ship that size—will she float?”

“Like a leaf on a stream,” the old man boasted.

“We will name her
Aelon's Miracle
,” said Raegar. “And her sister will be
Aelon's Revenge
. I'll give orders to haul them out of the caves and start work immediately.”

He rested his hand on the old man's shoulder. “You have earned rich reward, old man. What would you like?”

“To see my beauty sail the sea will be reward enough, your lordship,” said the old man with tears in his eyes.

*   *   *

Within weeks of declaring war on the Stormlords, Raegar had assembled an army of twelve thousand and he had his miracle war galleys to carry them, as well as supply ships and transports and ships to carry Aelon's priests. The day he and his army set sail, all of Sinaria came to the harbor to cheer them on. Raegar experienced one of the proudest moments of his life as he walked on board
Aelon's Miracle
, wearing the crown of the Emperor of Oran, resplendent in his new ceremonial armor that shone so brightly men said he rivaled the sun.

His wife, Treia, was with him. She was huge with child; the midwives had said the baby could come any day. Despite telling her that she could come with him, Raegar was nervous about the safety of his son and tried to encourage her to remain at home. Treia reminded him curtly that he needed her to deal with the Dragon Fala.

“I have been trained as a Bone Priestess. I know how to use the spiritbone to summon the dragon, how to determine the elemental form the dragon should take. And besides,” Treia had added, “the dragon and I are friends.”

Raegar gave in. After a couple of bad experiences with the dragon, he was well aware that Fala considered him a numbskull and might well refuse to come with the army unless Treia was along.

Raegar walked the deck of his galley, listening with pleasure to the beats of the drum marking time for the rowers, watching the oars rise from the water, sweep forward, splash into the water, sweep back, all in one elegant rhythmic motion.

He did not say it out loud, for the priests would have warned him of hubris, but he knew victory was assured. And the Stormlords would be only the first to fall to his might. After that, he would conquer the ogres and the Cyclopes, and then—sweetest of all—his own people, the Vindrasi. He pictured his triumphal return to Sinaria with hundreds of Vindrasi trailing behind him in chains.

The voyage south to the land of the Stormlords should have been a short one and relatively easy. Unfortunately, on just the second day, when the galleys and the flotilla of smaller support ships reached the open sea, the weather turned against Raegar, as if the sea and sky were declaring war on him.

The wind blew from every direction except the north, which would have sped them south to their destination. Storms came upon them out of clear skies, blowing them off course and scattering the fleet, so that they had to spend precious time waiting for the other ships to catch up.

Everyone on board was seasick, including the rowers. His soldiers were so sick and demoralized they could not have vanquished an army of kittens. At this rate, Raegar figured, a journey that should take the fleet a week at most could last a month and they would be in no condition to fight once they arrived.

Raegar blamed the gods of the Vindrasi. He was thinking bitterly that Aelon hadn't, after all, done much to weaken them, when the god herself arrived to disabuse of him this notion.

He descended to his cabin from the main deck, where he had been inspecting the latest damage done by the storm, to discover the god in his cabin. He was in a mood as foul as the weather and not particularly pleased to see her.

“You have not been around lately,” said Raegar.

“I have been busy,” said Aelon.

She was also in a foul mood, restlessly roaming about the cabin, examining the maps, tasting his wine and spitting it out, opening his sea chest and slamming it shut. Outside the sky was black, hail rattled among the rigging, and torrential rains swept the deck.

“Can't you do something about these blasted storms?” Raegar demanded at last.

Aelon rounded on him, eyes flashing in anger.

“How dare you speak to me like that?”

“I ask forgiveness, Revered Aelon,” Raegar said, blanching. “I fear the ship could sink at any moment and that would be an ignominious end to all our plans. I blame the gods of the Vindrasi—”

“Not the Vindrasi,” Aelon returned.

“Then who?” Raegar was mystified.

She cast him a scathing glance. “These wizards call themselves ‘Stormlords.' Even you should be able to make the connection.”

Raegar was uneasy. “You are saying the storms are caused by magic? Wizards are doing this?”

The thought came to him that if these wizards were this powerful, conquering them might prove more difficult and fraught with more danger than he had imagined.