Rage of the Dragon (12 page)

“Thank you for saving Aylaen,” said Skylan.

“I didn’t do it for you.” Wulfe rubbed his hands vigorously over his head to restore his hair back to the way it had been. “I did it for her.”

“Thank you,” said Skylan. “But don’t do it again.”

Wulfe regarded him through narrowed eyes. When he saw that Skylan wasn’t angry or accusing, Wulfe ducked his head. “I can’t help it.”

“I think you can,” said Skylan quietly.

“My daemons tell me to do it!”

“Don’t listen.”

“It’s hard!” Wulfe mumbled.

“I know,” said Skylan. “I’ve had to quit listening to mine.”

Wulfe stared at him and then gave an abrupt nod. “I’ll try. But I don’t promise.”

He wandered off to go stand by the rail, staring out at the sea and occasionally wiping his eyes. Acronis had been listening and when Wulfe had gone he came over to talk to Skylan.

“I am right in thinking I did see that boy change himself to a wolf.”

“Yes, sir,” said Skylan. “Like those wolves that attacked us in Sinaria. The wolves that weren’t wolves. If you ask the boy, he’ll tell you it’s a curse from his grandmother, the Faerie Queen.”

Acronis shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense, you know. It’s not scientifically possible.”

“Yet you saw it,” said Skylan.

“Yet I saw it,” said Acronis.

The
Venjekar
was now near enough to the ogre ship that Skylan ordered Farinn to trim the sail, slowing their speed. He guided the
Venjekar
to within hailing distance, yet out of spear range.

“What are you going to do?” Aylaen asked, attempting to sound calm. She had once more put on the Sinarian armor and buckled the sword of Vindrash around her waist.

Acronis was wearing his armor and his sword. Farinn was holding a battle-axe Skylan had given to him and trying to look as if he knew how to use it. Wulfe paced nervously, like a dog in a cage. Keeper lay beneath the sailcloth, peacefully sleeping the final sleep, waiting for Skylan to fulfill his promise to take him home.

“Pray to Torval,” said Skylan. Touching the amulet, he shouted across the sea. “Bear Walker! I did what I promised. As you can see, I chased off your enemy, the Sinarian war galley. I have proven my friendship.”

Bear Walker did not immediately answer. He was understandably suspicious. He looked from Skylan to Raegar’s ship limping back to Sinaria. The godlord had witnessed for himself the battle between the two dragons. He had seen Skylan’s dragon defeat the dragon of his foes. Bear Walker had also seen Skylan’s ship start to leave.

The godlord grunted and shouted at Skylan, “Why did you turn around and come back?”

Skylan had anticipated this question, which was a logical one. He was prepared with his answer. “When I saw that your ship was sinking, lord, I came back to help.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bear Walker said, glowering. “My ship is not sinking.”

“You are taking on water, lord,” said Skylan. “Is it possible you don’t know?”

“I know,” said Bear Walker, shrugging. “We are working to plug the leak.”

Skylan could tell by the glances the ogres at the rail gave one another that the leak-plugging was not going well. Bear Walker glared at them, doubtless warning them not to say a word.

“I am skilled in ship-building, lord,” said Skylan. “To prove my friendship, I will come aboard to help patch the leak.”

Bear Walker was at first amazed, and then gave a loud guffaw. “What if I save you the trouble and take your ship?”

Skylan shrugged. “What if I sail away and let you drown?”

“You won’t,” Bear Walker said smugly. He put his hand on the Vektan Torque, made a show of stroking it. “You want this gewgaw I wear.
That’s
why you came back.”

Bear Walker grinned at Skylan’s discomfiture.

“My shaman, Ravens-foot, told me the story. He says that your chief, a human named Horg, gave the ogres this gift as a mark of respect. You challenged the godlord to a battle and when you lost to him, you tried to steal the Torque—”

“Your whoreson shaman lies!” Skylan cried, losing his temper. “I fought your godlord in single combat and I killed him!”

“You’re not helping!” Aylaen warned.

The ogres were angry, shouting that he lied, that no human was a match for a godlord.

Skylan thought swiftly. “The reason I was able to kill him was because our gods had cursed him!”

The ogres fell silent, listening. Ogres were respectful of the gods, all gods, even those they did not worship. Skylan remembered how Keeper had urged Aylaen to fight for the honor of her goddess, Vindrash.

“Horg had no right to give the ogres the Torque,” Skylan continued. “It did not belong to him. The Torque belongs to the Vindrasi people. It was a gift to us from the gods. When Horg stole it, the gods cursed him.”

Bear Walker tore the Torque from his neck. “Are you saying this thing is cursed?”

“Horg died a terrible death,” said Skylan gravely. “The godlord who wore the Torque after Horg died a terrible death. Your shaman knows the truth. Ask him!”

Bear Walker turned to Ravens-foot, who began spluttering, probably protesting that Skylan was trying to trick them. Bear Walker’s face darkened.

“Now
you
are wearing the Torque and misfortune has dogged you, Bear Walker!” Skylan pressed home his advantage. “Your raid ended in disaster. Your ship is sinking. The gods’ curse is on you!”

The ogres on board the ship backed away from Bear Walker. The godlord eyed the Torque, then shoved it at the shaman. Ravens-foot shook his gourd at it and edged away. Bear Walker was left standing all alone, the Torque in his hand. He looked from the Torque to the foaming waves.

“He’s going to throw it in the sea!” Aylaen gasped.

“Give me the Torque!” Skylan yelled hastily. “When the Torque is in my hands, our gods will lift their curse from you.”

Bear Walker mulled this over. He wasn’t stupid. He didn’t trust Skylan and yet he didn’t have much choice.

“You will patch our ship?” he asked.

“I will. I swear by Torval!” Skylan vowed. “Let me come aboard.”

Bear Walker ordered his men to toss down a rope, which they did with alacrity. Skylan smiled reassuringly at Aylaen, who was watching unhappily.

“Pray to Vindrash for me,” said Skylan, taking hold of the rope. “You are in command while I’m gone.”

“Me?” she said, startled.

“If something happens, you and Kahg sail the
Venjekar
home. You can meet up with Sigurd.”

“I’ve found you, only to lose you,” Aylaen said in sorrowful tones.

“You haven’t lost me yet,” said Skylan, grinning.

He gave her a swift kiss on the cheek and then began to climb the rope, hand-over-hand. He had gone only a short distance when Wulfe seized hold of his ankle.

“It’s coming!” Wulfe yelled frantically. “It’s coming! It’s almost here!”

“Let go, damn it!” Skylan swore, twisting on the rope and trying to kick at the boy, who was holding on to him with a strength born of terror. “Aylaen, Farinn, get him off me!”

Before they could grab him, Wulfe let go. Skylan continued his climb. Wulfe stood on the deck, staring up at him, his face contorted in fear. Skylan hesitated, remembering the time Wulfe’s oceanaids had warned him a storm was coming. Skylan hadn’t listened and his ship had been caught out at sea in a raging tempest.

The sky was clear. But the sea was unsettled, shining with a greasy, oily sheen. Suppose Wulfe was right, and something bad was coming.

“All the greater urgency for me to get my hands on the Vektan Torque,” Skylan said grimly.

Several ogres offered to help Skylan, seizing hold of him—armor, sword, and all—lifting him up bodily and heaving him over the rail with as much ease as if he’d been the scrawny Wulfe. Once on board, Skylan could tell by the feel of the ship—sluggish and foundering—that it was taking on water at a rapid rate. He feared it was too far gone to save. He’d do what he could, however. He’d made a vow to Torval and he meant to honor it.
After
he had the Torque.

He walked over to greet Bear Walker. The two exchanged pleasantries. Ravens-foot, the shaman in the feathered cape, shook the gourd at Skylan, who stared at the shaman coldly and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“I am here, as I promised,” said Skylan. “Give me the Torque. The curse will be lifted.”

“You can have the damn thing,” said Bear Walker.

He held out the Torque. The gold shone brightly in the sunlight. The two dragons, holding the spiritbone between them, seemed to be watching Skylan with their jeweled eyes. His heart swelled with pride and pleasure.

He started to grasp hold of it. “Thank you, Torval…”

But before he could finish his prayer, the sea boiled. A horrible smell, as of a barrel of rotting fish, and enormous tentacles, gray and scaly and as big as mighty oak trees, shot up out of the water. The tentacles wrapped around the ogre ship. The Torque fell from his hand. Before Skylan could think or catch his breath or panic, the tentacles dragged him, the ship, and the ogres beneath the waves.

CHAPTER

11

The Aquin commander and her troops were on routine patrol near the City of the Third Daughter, when they received a report that a gigantic kraken had been sighted in their territory. The report came from several extremely excited naiad (fae folk who dwell in the sea, known by humans as oceanaids), and was therefore suspect, especially since kraken were not known to hunt in these waters. The commander, Neda, nonetheless decided she had better investigate.

She communicated the news to her patrol through a series of squeals and whistles used by the Aquins to communicate beneath the water. Since they might have to swim a far distance without being able to surface for air, the Aquin people made use of their breath-masks, devices concocted of large clamshells containing a specially grown seaweed that exchanged stale breath for fresh oxygen. The clamshell attached to the back of the swimmer with straps. A mask fit over the nose and mouth. A tube fed the oxygen supply to the swimmer.

The Aquins were a race of humans who lived in cities beneath the sea. Many tales were told about them, particularly among seafaring people, but much of the information in these tales was not true. For example, Aquins did not have the upper bodies of humans and the lower bodies of fish. They did not have gill slits, nor could they breathe water. The tales were true when they told that the Aquins were a peace-loving people who kept to themselves, avoiding the wars and disputes that raged among their land-dwelling cousins. The tales also spoke truly when they said that Aquins were known to come to the rescue of sailors who were washed overboard or swimmers who found themselves out beyond their depth, saving them from drowning.

Commander Neda questioned the oceanaids—not an easy undertaking, for the silvery-scaled, silvery-haired fae were all gesturing and bubbling and screeching in confusion. At length she was able to determine that not only was a kraken in the vicinity, it was attacking two ships. She dispatched several of her warriors to fetch more of the breath-masks, in the unlikely case that there were survivors, and set out with her patrol.

The Aquins came upon an astonishing sight—an enormous kraken, the largest they had ever seen. And below the kraken, guarding one of the ships, was a dragon.

The Aquins had never seen a dragon, though they knew of them, for of all the land-bound races the Aquins felt most closely connected to the Vindrasi, a sea-faring people who roamed the oceans in their dragonships. For a moment the Aquins could only stare, awestruck, at the dragon that had his body twined protectively around a ship with a dragonhead prow. Seeing several humans and ogres in dire peril, Commander Neda ordered her warriors to do what they could to save them.

*   *   *

The sea boiled. Tentacles whipped. One moment Skylan was standing on the deck of the ogre ship, reaching for the Vektan Torque. The next he was plunging into the roiling waves.

He was an experienced swimmer, as were most Vindrasi sailors, and had learned when young not to panic. Open your eyes, no matter how badly it stings, try to find the surface. The problem was the segmented armor, weighing him down. He managed to unhook the straps holding it on, letting the armor sink to the bottom. Next to go was his sword and sheath. Peering through a faint reddish tinge, Skylan searched for Aylaen and his comrades. Broken timbers, flailing, panic-stricken ogres, and the murky water made it impossible to find them. He had to worry about finding air to breathe and thrust his way through the water, kicking and pulling himself upward toward the distant sunlight.

He was almost there when he saw the sea monster that had attacked them. The kraken’s elongated orangish-colored body was easily as long as the
Venjekar
. The sea monster had two huge yellow eyes, one set on each side of its bulbous head. Eight arms extended from its head along with the two incredibly long tentacles that had seized the ogre ship and crushed it like an eggshell.

A single yellow eye fixed on Skylan. Terrified, he pulled himself through the debris-laden water as fast as he could. The kraken flashed toward him with horrific speed. A tentacle whipped out from the kraken’s head and seized Skylan by the leg. Round cups on the tentacle adhered to his flesh. Myriad sharp teeth sank into him, sending splinters of agony through his body. The kraken began to reel him in like a fish on a hook, hauling him through the water toward the kraken’s razor-sharp beak.

Skylan had no weapon. He beat on the tentacle with his fists, striking it again and again, without effect. His lungs were bursting, but it seemed likely he was going to end up being torn apart by the beak. His strength was failing. He could not hold his breath any longer. He brought Aylaen’s face to mind. He would take her with him into death. He opened his mouth …

Strong arms seized hold of him. A woman slapped a mask made of leather that smelled strongly of fish over his face and thrust a tube into his mouth. The leather of the mask stuck to his skin, something sticky inside molding itself to his flesh. He fought the woman, for the mask, covering his nose and mouth and eyes, made him think she was trying to suffocate him. Her hands held him firmly. A face, floating in front of him, wearing the same kind of mask, motioned to him to breathe.