Rage of the Dragon (38 page)

“I am sorry, Torval,” Skylan prayed as they sped through the water, hanging on to the dolphins. “Once again, I have failed you. Please, do not punish Aylaen. Let this mistake fall on me!”

He was relieved to see in the murky distance the red eyes of the dragon and the
Venjekar,
resting on the coral reef. His relief was short-lived. He and Farinn arrived to find the Aquin warriors in the midst of a desperate battle. The women had not forsaken their dead Queen. They surrounded her lifeless body, lying on the deck of the
Venjekar,
using spears and tridents to fend off ravenous sharks.

Acronis fought with them, wielding a sword. Skylan searched the deck, but he could not find Aylaen. He told himself she might be down in the hold, but he knew better. She would never run from a fight. Then he saw that the sword Acronis was wielding was the blessed sword of Vindrash. He looked at the body of Queen Magali and saw the gaping wound in her breast. Skylan knew with dread certainty that something terrible had happened to Aylaen.

The red eye of the Dragon Kahg flared at the sight of Skylan, almost as if pleased to see him. Skylan was too preoccupied to notice this, but he did remember to give the dragon a salute. Movement caught his eye. Wulfe, surrounded by his oceanaids, who were keeping the boy at a safe distance from the sharks. Sighting Skylan, Wulfe broke free and swam toward him, legs kicking, arms paddling like a dog. The oceanaids were all aflutter over his leaving and swarmed after him in a silvery wake.

The dolphins abandoned Skylan, sensibly fleeing at the sight of the sharks. Skylan fumbled for his sword, his movements clumsy underwater, the clamshell breathing device in his way. He cursed the water, the clamshell, himself. He motioned for Farinn to remain behind, and pointed at Wulfe. Farinn nodded his head in understanding and caught hold of the boy and held fast to him.

Skylan was ready to fight his way through the circling sharks to reach Acronis, when the warm water in which he had been swimming turned suddenly cold.

Every living creature in the sea felt the change. Fish darted around in a frenzy, then fled. The sharks circled their prey, uneasy, yet reluctant to leave. The mysterious chill deepened, as though a stream of icy water were flowing into the sea. The sharks abandoned the fight and swam away. The Aquins felt the change and hovered near their Queen, glancing around uncertainly, not knowing what was going on, yet staying to guard their Queen.

Skylan swam to Acronis. Taking the tube from his mouth, he mouthed the word, “Aylaen?”

Acronis shook his head. Seeing the agony in Skylan’s eyes, Acronis tapped his hand over his heart. Skylan at first had no idea what this gesture meant and then he understood. Aylaen was alive, her heart was beating. Acronis crossed his wrists, indicating shackles, and then pointed out into the water in the direction they had taken Aylaen. Acronis turned his sorrowful gaze to the dead Queen. Skylan understood. Queen Magali had died trying to protect Aylaen.

Skylan would go after Aylaen. He would find her if he had to circumnavigate the world. First, he had a duty to the dead.

I will always honor you, Queen Magali. I do not know where your soul will travel in your last journey, he thought. I pray to Akaria, goddess of the sea, that you find the blessed peace you did not find here.

“She will,” said a voice. “I will take her there myself.”

Skylan was startled to hear the voice beneath the waves. He looked up to see a woman standing over him. The woman’s long white hair floated around her. Her beauty was marred by lines of grief and anger and deep-etched sorrow. Her eyes were the color of the sea in all its moods, green with mischief, blue with halcyon calm, gray with storm.

She was Akaria, the sea goddess, and with her was King Tai and his daughters. The king stared down in disbelief at the body of his beloved wife, then he gathered her in his arms and hugged her close. The daughters drifted in the water, huddled together, holding on to each other, unable to comprehend the terrible tragedy that had torn apart their family. Acronis covered his face with his hand, unable to endure the sight of such heart-rending grief.

This is my fault, Skylan thought in silent misery, knowing the goddess could understand the words in his heart. If we had not come—

The Sea Goddess shook her head. “I would like to blame you, Skylan Ivorson, for I do not think much of you or your god, Torval. War would have come with you or without you. The twelve cities lived at peace for centuries until the coming of Aelon. Now our peace is shattered. The people of this city will never forgive the murder of their Queen. There will be more bloodshed. I cannot prevent it.”

King Tai bade the daughters kiss their mother farewell. He gave his wife a final kiss, lifted her body, then gently rested her in the arms of the Sea Goddess. Akaria would carry the fallen Queen back to her home.

She turned back one last time to face Skylan.

“Find the Five, Skylan Ivorson,” said the Sea Goddess. “Summon the great dragon, Ilyrion, to drive Aelon from the heavens. My blessing goes with you.”

The great dragon, Ilyrion … The Five spiritbones had been the bones of the great dragon, Ilyrion. The bones in which Vindrash had hidden the power of creation. Bring the Five bones together … Summon the great dragon that once guarded a world until she fell to Torval. Ilyrion would come back to save the world she loved.

No wonder Sund was scared.

Kahg’s eyes flared. Skylan and the dragon shared a moment’s perfect accord. Both understood. It all made sense. They just had to bring this miracle about.

Kahg’s eyes narrowed. He was eager to be gone. Desperate as Skylan was to be gone himself, to pursue Aylaen’s captors, he waited in respect until the funeral cortege had passed beyond his view.

The sight of the king’s grief-ravaged face haunted Skylan. As a warrior, he had always accepted the fact that he would never reach old age. His wife would be the one to bid farewell to him as he set off on the journey to Torval’s Hall. He could not imagine holding Aylaen’s dead body in his arms, forced to go on living without her.

A hand closed over his hand. He looked down, startled, to find Wulfe gazing up at him. Wulfe gave Skylan’s hand a squeeze and an awkward attempt at a reassuring smile. Skylan was touched. Wulfe squeezed Skylan’s hand again and pointed up at the dragon.

Skylan looked to see the red eyes glaring fiercely down at them. The
Venjekar
shuddered and began to move off the reef. Skylan and Farinn and Acronis had time only to grab hold of the stump of the mast or trailing rope or whatever they could find and hang on as the angry Dragon Kahg lifted the
Venjekar
from below the sea.

CHAPTER

39

Held captive aboard the
Aelon’s Triumph
, Aylaen sat huddled on the stool, two soldiers standing guard over her. She paid no heed to them. She told herself Raegar was lying to her, that Skylan was safe and well and would be coming after her. Common sense told her she was the one who was lying—to herself. Of course, Skylan had walked into an ambush. The abduction of Farinn made no sense otherwise. Skylan would fight. He would not allow himself to be captured, taken prisoner. He would fight until they beat him to the ground and then he would fight on until death overcame him.

At the thought, tears burned her eyes. Aylaen refused to let herself cry. She would not allow Raegar or these other men to see her be weak.

She was thinking of Skylan and afraid the tears might come anyway when she saw the guards behind her jump to attention. Raegar walked toward her. She rose to her feet, faced him with defiance. He was almost welcome. She could sink her grief in hatred.

Raegar gave her an oily, insinuating smile.

“Have you thought over Aelon’s offer? The god is being magnanimous. I hope you have sense enough to appreciate it.”

Aylaen snorted and started to turn away. He reached out, seized hold of her shoulder.

Aylaen bit him.

Raegar swore and snatched his hand back, blood welling from tooth marks in his fingers. Raegar’s face flushed an angry red. Furious, he struck Aylaen, knocking her to the deck. She lay there dazed, her ears ringing, pain bursting in her skull.

Gritting her teeth, trying to focus her eyes, Aylaen pushed herself up off the deck. One of the guardsman reached to help her. Aylaen snarled at him and he drew back. She held fast to the rail and spit out the blood, hers and Raegar’s.

“My stepfather hit me harder than that,” she said, sneering.

Raegar’s flush deepened to an ugly purple. He raised his hand again, fingers clenched to a fist. She had made him look the fool in front of his men and this time he might well kill her. Aylaen braced herself for the blow, but it never fell.

A rogue wave rose from a flat, calm sea and smacked the side of Raegar’s dragonship. The vessel lurched, men staggered across the canting deck. Sailors who were still on their feet began to point and yell in terror.

The
Venjekar
rose out of the sea, leaping up from the waves like a whale, foam flying. The red eyes of the dragon blazed. Seawater ran in cascades from the prow and the hull and foamed beneath the keel. Seaweed hung dripping from the ropes and twined about the stump of the broken mast. The deck was empty. There was no sign of anyone living on board.

“Ghost ship!” one sailor yelled hoarsely.

“Come to claim us!” another shrieked.

The story was ancient and always the same, whether told by Sinarian sailors over wine, Vindrasi sailors over mead, or ogre sailors over fermented goat’s milk. All told the tale of the ghostly ship that sailed the seas, searching for sailors to man her.

Aylaen could see that Raegar was as shaken as the rest of his crew, though not by a ghost ship. He was startled by the unexpected sight of the
Venjekar
.

The sky darkened, clouds roiled and flickered with lightning. The wind freshened. The sea grew leaden, waves rolling sullenly. The Sea Goddess was angry and grieving and not likely to be kind to
Aelon’s Triumph
. Waves struck the dragonship from all directions. The ship bucked and twisted and corkscrewed.

Aylaen clung to the railing.

“Skylan!” she screamed, as the wind tore her words from her mouth. “Skylan!”

The hatch on the
Venjekar
rose. Skylan came running up from below, his brass sword in his hand. He was naked except for the loincloth worn by the Aquins and soaking wet, his long blond hair plastered to his head, his skin glistening. Farinn and Acronis followed him; both of them looking more like mermen than humans. Wulfe dashed up last, dancing and gibbering. They seemed a fitting crew for the ghost ship that had sprung from the waves. One sailor gave a wild yell of terror and leaped into the sea.

Others seemed likely to follow, preferring a swift death by drowning to an eternity sailing with this ghastly crew. Captain Anker swore and bellowed, trying to restore calm, shouting commands to which few sailors paid any heed. The soldiers, either more disciplined or less superstitious, drew their swords and drove the sailors to action.

“Archers!” Raegar yelled, pointing at Skylan and the men on the
Venjekar
. “They’re not ghosts now, but they soon will be!”

The archers drew their bows and took their places at the stern. They tried aiming, but found it difficult to maintain their footing on the bounding deck.

Raegar turned and went lurching across the deck, racing for the prow. The spiritbone of the Dragon Fala swung from a hook on the dragonhead prow. Raegar was going to summon the dragon.

The
Venjekar
sailed closer, Akaria speeding the Vindrasi dragonship, even as she impeded Raegar’s.

“Aylaen!” Skylan called to her. “Jump!”

“The oceanaids will save you!” Wulfe screeched.

The two soldiers supposed to be guarding Aylaen were picking themselves up off the heaving deck. Aylaen looked at Skylan and she looked back at Raegar.

His Dragon Fala had suffered a humiliating defeat the last time she had attacked the Dragon Kahg. Fala would be eager for a chance to have her revenge.

Aylaen hoped Skylan understood. She couldn’t waste time explaining. She started to run after Raegar. A hand seized hold of her arm, dragged her back.

Aylaen turned to face her captor. Only one thought was in her mind. She must prevent Raegar from summoning the dragon. This man was trying to stop her and that couldn’t be allowed. Resolve and determination filled her.

In that moment, Aylaen knew Torval’s Madness.

All her life, she had heard about the Madness of Torval, the crazed power that fills warriors in battle. During this madness, a warrior is said to become one with the god. The warrior loses all sense of his own mortality. He tramples on fear and slays doubt. He runs toward danger, not away from it. He knows himself to be invincible.

Time slows for a warrior in Torval’s Madness. The god gives the warrior the strength of his arm and guides his hand. The light of the god’s wrath shines in the warrior’s eyes, making him terrible. His foes cower before him and throw down their weapons and flee in terror.

The madness filled Aylaen. Time slowed. She saw the flash of lightning on the sea, the foam flicking from the waves. She felt the storm wind on her face, tasted salt on her lips. She watched the play of muscles in her forearm, the turning of her wrist, the graceful, gliding motion, the stretch, the reach, her fingers wrapping around the hilt of the guardsman’s sword. She watched her hand grasping, tightening, pulling the sword free of the sheath. She stood tall and swung the sword with the god’s might.

Blood sprayed her face. Someone screamed. The hand let loose of her arm. The bright fire of the god blinded Aylaen. She ran across the deck, as though she were running on a cloud. Faces with mouths wide loomed in front of her and she swung her sword and they disappeared in blood-red spray.

Raegar stood at the prow, reaching for the spiritbone. Aylaen was yet a few feet from him. She shouted to Torval, shouted the cry the war chief raises as he throws his spear over the enemy shield wall, warning his foe to prepare to die.