Rage of the Dragon

by Margaret Weis

  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.

  “Stick to the plan,” said Skylan.

  It was all he had.

  The shaman also recognized Skylan, it seemed, for he was talking excitedly to the godlord.

  “I am Bear Walker, Godlord of the Fleet,” the ogre said proudly. “My shaman tells me that you have the blood of a godlord on your hands.”

  Skylan couldn’t very well deny this, not without lying, and he’d had a bellyful of lies.

  “My friend’s name is Keeper of the Flame,” Skylan called back. “He saved my life and I vowed I would honor him by bringing his body to his people.”

  Skylan jabbed a finger behind him, pointing to the burning city. “Like Keeper, I was a slave in that evil place. He helped me and my friends escape. When the fog came, I could have dumped his body and sailed safely to my homeland. I could have ordered my dragon to attack you. Instead, I come in peace, as you see. I risk my life to fulfill my vow to my fri
end.”

  In pointing to Sinaria, Skylan had also unfortunately drawn attention to Raegar’s ship, moving slowly, but closing the distance between them. The godlord eyed the war galley that had been refitted with a dragonhead prow.

  “This is a trick,” said the godlord angrily. “You and your human friends plan to attack us.”

  “Those humans are not my friends!” Skylan shouted. “Their evil god, Aelon, seeks to enslave the Vindrasi people, as well as yours. I come to you and to the Gods of Raj in friendship. I will prove it if your ship will join my ship. We will fight them together.”

  The godlord conferred with the shaman. The shaman was opposed, but the godlord was clearly tempted. Skylan put himself in the godlord’s place. The ogres had been close to defeating the Sinarians, so close they must have been able to taste the sweetness of victory. Then the Vektia dragon had appeared, attacking friend and foe alike, raining down flood and fire, terror and destruction, and forcing the victorious ogres to flee for their lives.

  The ogres had lost the battle they had assured their people they would win. Their homecoming would be dismal, if not disastrous. This godlord, commander of the fleet, would be forced to confess that he and his troops had been routed—provided he lived long enough to confess anything. Ogres gained promotion through assassination and this godlord’s standing among the other ogres must be extremely low. A few of those underlings must be thinking this was now their chance. Skylan was giving him a chance to strike a parting blow, salvage at least some of his honor.

  Of course Raegar had his dragon, the young Dragon Fala. Raegar was now dependent on the power of the dragon to sail his ship. If he ordered her to attack Skylan, he would have to rely on the wind or the muscle in the arms of his rowers to sail his vessel. His galley’s speed would be reduced to a crawl.

  The godlord made a peremptory gesture, cutting off the shaman’s argument, and ordered his warriors to draw up the boarding ropes. He was going to agree to the attack. Before Skylan could say a word, a piercing shriek caused his hair to stand on end.

  Screaming Raegar’s name, Treia began waving her arms and jumping up and down and pointing at something.

  “She’s gone mad!” Skylan said to himself.

  Raegar was still some distance away, too far to hear or see her. Skylan looked to see what she was pointing at so wildly and saw another ogre ship. Treia was pointing at Sigurd, trying to draw Raegar’s attention.

  Skylan snorted. Let her yell herself hoarse. Raegar couldn’t hear her from this distance.

  “Raegar’s ship is changing course, Skylan!” Acronis reported.

  “What? That’s not possible. How—” He looked at Acronis, who had his spyglass to his eye, and he knew how. Raegar must have a spyglass of his own. He could see Treia, if he could not hear her. He could see the deck of the Venjekar. What he would not see were Sigurd and the other Torgun warriors on board the ogre ship.

  “Shut her up!” Skylan bellowed. “Take her below!”

  But he was too late. The harm was done.

  “Raegar’s changed course,” Acronis repeated, adding, “He’s chasing after Sigurd. And as slowly as that ogre ship your goddess gave us is moving, Raegar’s new dragonship has a fair chance of catching him.”

  Skylan was cursing his luck and wondering if Aylaen would care very much if he lopped off her sister’s head when Farinn gave a warning shout. Skylan whipped around to see the ogre godlord flanked by ten ogres, all carrying massive spears.

  All the spear points were aimed at Skylan.

  “It was a trap!” the godlord roared.

  “No, I swear by Torval—”

  “I saw your female signaling to your friends! Surrender your ship to me or die!”

  Skylan barely heard. He was instead focused on a strange sight. He could suddenly see the thread of his own wyrd stretching across the sea, running from the base of the World Tree, where the three Norn sat spinning, to where he stood on the Venjekar. As he watched, the thread split. One strand continued on unbroken toward the far horizon. The other stopped only a short distance ahead, slashed, cut short.

  Skylan clasped the amulet of Torval around his neck and spoke a prayer. The threads remained and he knew the vision was real, sent to him by the god, and that it had to do with the decision he was about to make. The question: which wyrd was which? And should that even matter?

  A spear thudded to the deck at his feet.

  CHAPTER

  7

  “Be with me, Torval!” Skylan breathed, touching the amulet. He yanked the spear out of the deck and brandished it, holding it aloft, not threatening, but as a call to battle.

  “I will prove that I am a friend!” Skylan shouted. He turned to Aylaen and said loudly, for all to hear, “Command the Dragon Kahg! We are going to attack Raegar’s ship.”

  Aylaen stared at him, open-mouthed. She could command the dragon all she liked, but would he listen? Aylaen glanced at the spear-wielding ogres, gulped a little, and then clasped the spiritbone of the Dragon Kahg in her hand. Her lips moved. She reached down, dipped the spiritbone in one of the puddles.

  “What is she doing?” Acronis asked, lowering his spyglass.

  “Summoning the dragon,” said Skylan. He added beneath his breath, “I hope…”

  He waited tensely, keeping an eye on the ogres.

  “They’ve freed their anchor,” Farinn reported.

  Aylaen cast the spiritbone in the air. The bone hung there for a moment. Skylan watched it, praying to every god in the pantheon that the Dragon Kahg would materialize.

  The bone fell to the deck.

  Aylaen cast Skylan a despairing glance. He sighed deeply and wondered what he was going to do next. The ogre godlord was arguing with the shaman, who was insisting that the dragonship was cursed and they should set it on fire and destroy it. The godlord—perhaps picturing himself returning home in triumph aboard the captured Venjekar—wanted to seize the ship. The godlord had no objection to killing Skylan and his people, but he wanted their ship.

  Skylan picked up his sword and buckled it on.

  “Skylan, look!” Aylaen cried.

  The wooden dragon’s head had changed into a living, breathing head. Carved scales, their paint worn and faded, glittered and sparkled brilliant green-blue in the sunshine. The mouth—open in a perpetual fang-revealing snarl—roared defiance. The dragon and the Venjekar were one.

  “Brace yourselves!” Skylan shouted, grabbing hold of the mast. The Venjekar swung around and surged ahead, leaping over the ocean, the white foam churning beneath the keel, the white-tipped waves breaking over the bow.

  The ogres were astounded by the ship’s transformation from boat to dragon. A few flung their spears, but they fell harmlessly into the water. Then one ogre cried out and soon the others were roaring. They had spotted Sigurd in the ogre vessel. Having no way of knowing that this ogre ship wasn’t being manned by ogres, the godlord must be thinking his odds had improved. He began issuing orders. His ship veered round to catch the wind, the sail billowed. The godlord was determined to gain himself a dragonship.

  Skylan would have to deal with the ogres eventually. But now, one foe at a time.

  With the Venjekar sailing under the dragon’s control, Skylan hoisted up the useless rudder and stowed it on the deck, then went over to Acronis, who had resumed watching Raegar’s ship. Acronis offered Skylan the spyglass. Skylan shook his head. He had tried looking into that glass and had been shocked when people who were far away suddenly leaped right in front him. He considered it unnatural.

  “What’s Raegar doing?” Skylan asked.

  “Watching us,” Acronis reported. “And chasing after Sigurd.”

  “And Sigurd?”

  Acronis shifted the spyglass. He shook his head. “He’s doing his best, but ogre ships were not built for speed.”

  “Do we have enough speed to stop Raegar before he reaches Sigurd’s ship?”

  Acronis smiled. “I’ve never sailed with a dragon before. I fi
nd the experience exhilarating, but it’s throwing off my calculations.”

  He squinted, gazing out over the shimmering waves, measuring the distance with his eyes. “Yes, I think we will be able to reach Raegar before he reaches your friends.” Acronis lowered the glass and chuckled. “Sailing with a dragon. I cannot wait to tell Chloe.”

  Reassured as to their chances of catching Raegar, Skylan looked back at the ogre ship. The ogres were falling behind, but they were still coming. That godlord was persistent. The shaman shook his fist and yelled something. Skylan, remembering the magic spell the shaman had cast on him, felt his skin crawl. He hoped they were too far for the magic to have any effect.

  He watched the race, dragon against dragon. The two ships bounded over the waves. He could see for himself now that the Venjekar was gaining. For the moment, there was nothing to do except trust in Kahg. Aylaen cast a glance at him that seemed to invite him to come join her where she stood at the bow. The wind blew her hair back from her face. Her lips were parted, her eyes shining. Wulfe was beside her, leaning over the rail, shouting at the waves.

  Skylan walked over to Aylaen. She moved closer to him. More nervous than he’d ever been standing in the shield wall, facing death, he held her hand. In the past she would have been offended, drawn away, made some caustic remark. Her cheeks flushed. She gave his hand a brief squeeze.

  “If I died this moment,” Skylan said, “I would go to Torval’s Hall happy.”

  Aylaen’s eyes darkened, changing in an instant from warm green to frozen gray. She stalked off, moving to the other side of the dragon.

  Skylan stared after her, blinking in bewilderment.

  “Why is she mad at me?” Skylan asked.

  “Because you have cow turds for brains,” said Wulfe. “And you never listen.”

  “I’m listening now,” said Skylan with a sigh. “What do your fish friends have to say?”

  “That it’s too late.”

  The boy went back to pouting down at the creamy froth of the waves. Skylan cast a hopeful glance at Aylaen, but she was very pointedly not interested in him. She stood tall, her back rigid, her jaw set.