Rage of the Dragon (7 page)

Because of a dream.

Wulfe wandered over to announce cheerfully that if the ogres killed Skylan, he, Wulfe, would change into a man-beast and rip out their throats.

“I’d rather they didn’t kill you, though,” Wulfe added after some thought.

“Me, too,” said Skylan.

CHAPTER

6

The
Venjekar
drifted on the water, rolling on the uneasy waves. Torval’s fog was now only scarf-like patches of mist hanging above the sea. The sun rose. It was morning. But what morning? Skylan had lost track of time. Today might be today or it might be yesterday or maybe tomorrow. He didn’t suppose it mattered. He went to take the tiller. The Dragon Kahg had kept them from drifting in the fog. Now that the sun was up, Skylan would have to set a course.

As the wind whisked away the last vestige of mist, Farinn, who had been posted as lookout from the stern, gave a cry and Acronis, standing at the prow, gave a shout. Skylan did not know where to look first. He turned one direction to see an ogre ship with ogres clustered at the rail, gabbling in amazement at the sight of the sleek, dragon-prowed
Venjekar
. He turned the other way to see Raegar’s war galley raising its anchor.

The ogre ship was closest, so close that Skylan could hear an ogre, presumably a godlord, roaring orders. Skylan could not see the activity on the deck, but he could judge by the sounds of clashing steel and thudding feet that the ogres were arming themselves.

Raegar’s war galley was still some distance away. Lost in the fog, fearful of blundering unwittingly into the ogre fleet, Raegar would have given orders to drop anchor and lower the sails. Now that the fog was gone, he could resume his attempt to capture the
Venjekar
.

Acronis had his spyglass—what Wulfe called his “magic seeing glass”—to his eye.

“He’s sighted us,” Acronis reported to Skylan. “The war galley is sailing, though I’m not sure how. They don’t have their sail raised and there are no rowers.”

“Look at the dragonhead prow,” said Skylan. “What do you see?”

Acronis shifted his spyglass. He gasped in astonishment. “I see a dragon! The dragon’s head appears to be alive! I see gleaming scales. The mouth is wide open, the eyes flash…”

“Raegar has summoned his dragon,” said Skylan. “The Dragon Fala is sailing the ship.”

“I’ll be!” Acronis let out a soft sigh. “Will we summon our dragon?”

That, thought Skylan grimly, was a damn good question.

Raegar’s war galley—named
Aelon’s Triumph
—sped toward them, white foam flying as the dragon imbued the ship with her power. It was yet some distance away. Skylan had first to deal with the ogres. He walked back to the stern. The ogres had raised their singular triangle-shaped sail, but the ship wasn’t moving. Several ogres were now leaning over the rail, staring into the water, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Their anchor’s fouled,” said Farinn.

“Thank you, Torval,” Skylan said, and he looked back over his shoulder at Raegar’s ship.

Aelon’s Triumph
slowed. Raegar must have spotted the ogre ship. Raegar was proceeding cautiously, not wanting to bite off more than he could chew.

Skylan had one more ship to worry about. He shifted his gaze to a lone ogre ship that was sailing entirely the wrong direction, heading east and north instead of toward the ogre realm to the west. The rest of the ogre ships apparently had risked sailing through the fog, for they were little more than specks on the sun-spangled sea. As Acronis had predicted, none of the other ogre ships were paying the least attention to their wayward brother. Nor would they be returning to assist the unfortunate ogre ship with the fouled anchor.

The godlord was bellowing curses at his men and keeping a wary eye on the
Venjekar
. Ogres knew and respected the dragonships of the Vindrasi nation. The godlord could see that Skylan had only a handful of crew, but he might well have warriors stashed in the hold. And now, judging by yells from the ogres, they had just spotted Raegar in his dragonship.

An interesting situation. The ogres feared Skylan would ally with Raegar, while Raegar feared Skylan would ally himself with the ogres.

And as if Skylan didn’t have enough trouble, Treia came up to talk to him. She had, of course, seen
Aelon’s Triumph
. Treia’s pale cheeks were tinged with a faint blush. She must believe her lover was coming to save her. She circled around the body of Keeper, catching hold of the hem of her bedraggled robes, holding them up so as not to brush against the corpse of the man she had murdered.

She glanced at Aylaen, but found no help there. Aylaen turned her face away, looked out over the restless sea. Undeterred, Treia came to join Skylan. He kept his hand on the rudder, his attention fixed on the ogres.

“I wanted to thank you, Chief of Chiefs, for saving my life in Sinaria,” said Treia. She thought to flatter him by using the title that she herself had said he had no right to use. She even tried to insinuate some warmth into her tone.

She could have spared herself the trouble. Skylan didn’t respond. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Treia’s glance slide to Raegar’s dragonship and come back to Skylan, who smiled inwardly at her dilemma. Treia frowned, drummed her fingers on her arms.

“The ogre ship is helpless!” she said abruptly. “Why don’t you flee while you have the chance? Your cousin Raegar’s ship is filled with troops. He would gladly protect us.”

“He would gladly make us slaves again,” said Skylan grimly. “I would join my friend Keeper in Torval’s Hall before I let that happen.”

“That is because you are a warrior and live for death,” said Treia. “If you have no care for yourself, Skylan Ivorson, think of Aylaen. Will you sacrifice her to your pride?”

Skylan cast an uncertain glance at Aylaen and said nothing. Treia saw the look and, like a skilled swordsman, moved in for the kill.

“Raegar is your kinsman, Skylan. He never wanted to enslave you. Raegar was following the orders of that man—Legate Acronis. And yet you trust him more than your own kin. Raegar will let you go free, Skylan. You and Aylaen can sail back to your homeland. You will be welcomed as a hero.”

“My cousin would do all this for me,” said Skylan dryly. “Raegar is truly magnanimous. What does he expect in return?”

Treia missed the sarcasm.

“Give up the Vektia spiritbone,” said Treia eagerly. “It doesn’t belong to you anyway.”

“It damn well doesn’t belong to Raegar,” said Skylan.

Treia lost her temper. “You will never win, Skylan. Your own gods are against you! If you continue with this quest, it will end in tragedy.”

Skylan didn’t trust Treia, but he was forced to acknowledge that she had once been a Bone Priestess, close to gods who must have granted her the power to use the Vektia spiritbone, though not the power to control it. Her words had the ring of truth. Skylan remembered the fury who had been sent to kill him, the druid’s enigmatic warning about powerful enemies.

Treia saw by his furrowed brow and shadowed eyes that she had struck a telling blow. She pursued her advantage.

“Give up this ill-fated journey, Skylan. Too many have died already.”

“I will—” said Skylan.

Treia’s face brightened.

“—after I send Raegar to his grave.”

Skylan leaned on the rudder and steered the
Venjekar
straight toward the ogre ship.

“You fool!” Treia cried. “You will get us all killed!”

“Go crawl back in your hole,” Skylan told her.

Treia swore at him and, grabbing up her skirts, ran to Aylaen and seized hold of her by the arm.

“Make him listen to reason, Sister! He will pay attention to you!”

Aylaen rounded on Treia.

“Do not call me ‘Sister’!” Aylaen hissed the word. She grabbed Treia’s hand and flung her back. “I have no sister.”

“You will be sorry,” said Treia vehemently.

She did not return to the hold, but stalked over to the stern and stood there by herself, her smoldering gaze fixed on Raegar’s ship.

Wulfe had been hiding behind Aylaen until Treia left. Once she was gone, he hurried over to Skylan.

“I’ve been talking to the oceanaids,” Wulfe reported. “They are worried. Something is wrong.”

“Like that ogre ship bearing down us?” Skylan asked.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with ogres,” Wulfe said.

Skylan was concentrating on steering the ship so as to bring it alongside the ogre vessel.

Wulfe didn’t like being ignored. “Do you remember the time the Sea Goddess sent that storm that nearly drowned us? The oceanaids warned me about that and I told you and you didn’t listen.”

“Is there a storm coming?” Skylan asked.

“I told you it was
like
that time,” said Wulfe crossly. “I didn’t say it
was
that time.”

Skylan shook his head in exasperation. “I’ll deal with your oceanaids later. Go tell Aylaen I need to talk to her.”

Wulfe scowled, then did what he was told. Skylan kept his gaze on the ogre ship. The ogres had seen the
Venjekar
heading straight for them. Ogre warriors lined the ship’s rails.

Skylan could imagine what the ogres must be thinking. The Vindrasi nation was far away and yet here was a Vindrasi dragonship, where no dragonship should be. The
Venjekar
had come out of the mists, stolen upon them as silently as a ghost. The ogres massed at the rail, their combined weight causing the ship to rock dangerously. The godlord yelled at them in a rage and the ogre heads disappeared as quickly as if they had all been lopped off. Skylan had counted at least twenty ogres.

Skylan looked up at the dragon. Kahg’s eyes were bright. His spirit flowed through the ship, carrying the
Venjekar
over the water. Aylaen had returned.

“If you summon Kahg, will he fight?” Skylan asked.

“He will protect us. He might fight the ogres,” Aylaen said. “But he won’t fight Raegar’s dragon, Fala. He is upset and angry. He feels he’s been betrayed.”

“Not by me!” Skylan said testily. “You know damn well Raegar’s going to summon his dragon, send her to attack us. I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

“Raegar needs us alive,” said Aylaen. “To tell him where to find the spiritbone.” She cast a glance at her sister. Treia stood by herself, her arms folded across her chest. She did not take her eyes off Raegar’s ship.

Skylan muttered something under his breath. The Dragon Kahg had sharp ears, apparently, for his red eyes swiveled around to glare at him.

“You should take your sister and go down into the hold,” said Skylan.

“You should go jump in the ocean,” said Aylaen. She walked back to the prow. She was wearing the sword of Vindrash and with one hand on the hilt, placed the other trustingly on the dragon’s neck.

Wulfe was back. “The oceanaids—”

“Go tell Aylaen,” Skylan said. “Stay with her.”

“But—”

Skylan glowered. “Do as I say or I swear by Torval I will throw you over the side and you can swim with your damn oceanaids.”

Wulfe muttered something and walked off, his bare feet stomping angrily in the puddles on the deck.

Skylan sailed near enough to be within shouting distance of the ogres, then he deftly brought the ship alongside the ogre vessel. Keeping his hands where the ogre godlord could see them, Skylan reached down, drew his sword from its sheath, and slowly and deliberately placed it on the deck at his feet. Acronis did the same with his own sword. Farinn had managed to lose his axe along the way; no great loss, since he had never been particularly skilled with it. He had been posted beside Keeper’s body that was still covered by the sail cloth. Not knowing what else to do, Farinn raised his hands in the air.

Aylaen unbuckled the sheath of the sword of Vindrash and laid sword and sheath on the deck. Wulfe was at her side, hopping from one foot to the other and apparently trying to tell
her
about his oceanaids, for Skylan heard Aylaen tensely order him to hold his tongue.

Skylan cast a swift glance at Treia, hoping she would not interfere. She was still watching Raegar’s ship, which was still sailing toward them, though its speed had slowed now that they were near the ogres. Treia was not pleased. Her hands clenched to fists. Her lips moved.

“Here they come!” Acronis called in warning tones.

Thick lengths of rope snaked down over the side of the ogre ship, landing on the
Venjekar
’s deck. The ogres were going to climb down the ropes, board his ship, and kill them all.

Skylan filled his lungs with air and let out a shout that echoed across the sea. “I am called Skylan Ivorson. I am Chief of Chiefs of my people. I am not here to fight! I am here to bring my brother home.”

He gestured to Farinn, who lifted the sailcloth and drew it back to reveal the body. Keeper lay in state, his face and head painted, his hands holding his sword.

The ogres were taken completely by surprise. The godlord leaned over the rail for a better view. He was an imposing sight. Most ogres towered over Skylan. This ogre godlord towered over the other ogres. He must have stood eight feet tall.

His body was hulking and massive. He wore a heavy bearskin cloak. The paws wrapped around his neck, making him appear bigger. The godlord barked a command and another ogre joined him. At the sight of this second ogre, Skylan’s jaw sagged. He stared in disbelief.

The feathers in the ogre’s headdress were soaked and drooping; the ogre’s blue and green feather cape was in sad shape, making him look as though he were molting. The black kohl the ogre wore around his eyes had smeared over most of his face. Yet Skylan had no trouble recognizing the ogre shaman who had used his base and cowardly magicks to snatch the sacred Vektan Torque of the Vindrasi out of Skylan’s hand and carry it back to his ship and, presumably, back to the ogre realm.

Aylaen and Farinn also recognized the shaman; Skylan could tell by their amazed expressions. And so did Treia;
that
he could tell by her smile of bitter triumph.

“What do we do?” Farinn asked.