Rage of the Dragon

by Margaret Weis

  “We are going home,” said Skylan. His spirit seemed to soar over the waves, carrying him to Vindraholm.

  CHAPTER

  9

  Treia, forgotten in the excitement, had fled down into the hold. Frustrated and upset, fearful Skylan would kill her, she paced restlessly, sometimes stopping to watch what was going on through a chink in the wooden planking. She had rummaged through the supplies of food and weapons she herself had provided to the Torgun warriors as part of a plot to lure them to their deaths until she found a knife, which she used to whittle away at the chink until she had a good view of Raegar’s ship—though with her poor eyesight, all she could see was a smudge on the ocean.

  And all she could think about was Raegar.

  Was he thinking of her? Did he know she was on board the ship? Had he come to rescue her? Or had he come to accuse her for summoning the dragon that had destroyed his city and his hopes and dreams?

  “It was not my fault, my darling,” she whispered, restlessly twisting the fingers of her cold hands as she paced the deck. “I was tricked. Hevis tricked me into summoning the dragon. Hevis knew I wouldn’t be able to control it. This is his doing.”

  Treia tried to ignore the fact that she had not given Hevis his sacrifice. The god had demanded that she kill someone dear to her. In return, he would grant her the power to summon the Vektia dragon. Unfortunately, Treia’s choice of victims were sadly limited. She hated her stepfather, despised her mother, and intensely disliked all of her kindred clan. That narrowed her selection to two people: her lover, Raegar, and her sister, Aylaen. At that point, the choice was easy.

  Treia loved Raegar with a soul-consuming passion. She would have sacrificed herself before him. Treia had loved Aylaen because Aylaen was the only person who loved her. Now that love was gone, and Treia hated her sister. Aylaen had been marked for death and she had perversely gone on living, ruining Treia’s deal with Hevis.

  “Except that Hevis never truly had any power to give,” Treia muttered bitterly. “He gave me the ability to summon one of the Vektia dragons, when all the time he knew that in order to control one, I had to summon all five. He tricked me! None of this was my fault. Yet I am the one being made to suffer.”

  Treia stared longingly through the hole in the hull at her lover’s war galley and cursed the gods who had given her such poor eyesight. The ship was a fuzzy, wood-colored blur. By squinting, she thought she could discern Raegar at the prow near the head of the dragon. She could tell it was him because he was taller by far than the people of Sinaria. Being Vindrasi, he was fair-complected, whereas the Sinarians were brown-skinned. And Raegar was bald, his head shaved in the manner of the priests, and he was wearing armor—both his bald head and his armor gleamed in Aelon’s blessed light.

  Treia heard Skylan give the order for the Venjekar to chase and attack the war galley. Her lip curled. He was bluffing. He would never risk his own precious skin, nor that of his darling Aylaen. He wouldn’t risk harming the Vektia spiritbone, now that he had one in his possession.

  She watched Raegar summon his Dragon Fala, sending her to slay Skylan and all the rest of the fools, and her heart thrilled. That would be an end to her ordeal. She would be reunited with her lover. Watching Raegar stroking the neck of the carved dragon that graced the prow of the war galley, Treia couldn’t help but wonder why Raegar had kept secret the fact that a dragon had come to serve him.

  “If he truly loved me, he would have told me…”

  The thought pained her. As a Bone Priestess who had summoned dragons before, she could have given him advice.

  Such as never summon a fire dragon over water.

  Treia watched in agony as the fire dragon burst into life above the war galley and watched with gloomy foreboding as the young dragon flew toward the Venjekar. Treia could almost hear the Dragon Kahg chuckling as the wet and demoralized young dragon flew away.

  What now? Fear clutched Treia. Raegar was attempting to quell the panic on board his ship and hoist the sail. From the deck above, she could hear Skylan ordering the dragon to proceed with the attack.

  Treia smiled in satisfaction. She could always count on Skylan’s stupidity and his arrogance. Raegar and his soldiers would make short work of Skylan.

  And then the ship lurched beneath Treia’s feet. The Venjekar slowed and began to change course.

  “No!” Treia gasped, as she caught sight of Raegar’s ship dwindling in the distance.

  “We are going home.” Aylaen’s voice came down from above, echoed hatefully in the shadows of the hold.

  Treia picked up the knife.

  * * *

  The Dragon Kahg was not about to make the same mistake Fala had made. He left the sailing of the Venjekar to the humans aboard the ship. He remained with the Venjekar in spirit—his red eye was a fiery slit in the dragonhead prow. He left his physical body, returning his spirit to the spirit bone.

  The wind blew steadily. The sea was unsettled, lead-colored, and restless. Oily waves slapped the hull from all directions, tossing salt spray over the bow. Skylan shouted at Farinn to help him and together they raised the Venjekar’s sail, while Acronis took the tiller.

  The sail flapped and then filled. The wind caught the Venjekar and carried the ship through the waves and Skylan breathed easier. He looked back at the ogre ship. They had caught the same wind and were chasing after him. He would win this race; his ship was lighter and more maneuverable, and he was a better sailor. Still he didn’t like to see that triangular sail dogging him.

  “Why don’t they give up the chase and go home?” Skylan wondered aloud, annoyed.

  “Because they’ll never make it home,” said Acronis. He pointed at the ogre vessel. “Their ship is taking on water. It’s sinking beneath their feet. It’s not us they want. It’s our ship.”

  “By Torval, you’re right!” Skylan said, studying the ogre ship.

  He was about to add, “They’ll never catch us—” when Wulfe gave a shrill, gurgling shriek. The piercing sound was inhuman and dreadful and Skylan nearly leaped out of the ship.

  His heart pounding, Skylan rounded furiously on the boy. “Damn it, don’t ever do that—”

  Wulfe had gone white beneath his tan. He pointed, his hand shaking.

  Treia stood holding Aylaen, pressing a knife blade to her neck.

  “Lower the sail,” Treia ordered.

  “Skylan, don’t—” Aylaen began, and then gasped as Treia pricked her throat with the knife. Blood glistened on her skin.

  “Farinn, lower the sail,” said Skylan, not taking his eyes off Treia.

  Farinn ran to obey. The sail fell in folds. The Venjekar wallowed in the restless waves. Skylan glanced at Raegar’s ship, Aelon’s Triumph, now gaining on them. The ogre ship was gaining, too, but Raegar’s ship was faster and would reach them first.

  “I’ve done what you asked, Treia,” Skylan said. “Let Aylaen go.”

  “Give me the spiritbone of the Vektia,” said Treia. “If you don’t, I’ll kill her.”

  “He can’t give it to you,” said Aylaen. “He doesn’t know where I hid it. If you kill me you’ll never find it.”

  Treia glowered and jabbed Aylaen with the point of the knife. Blood flowed down her neck. Skylan could see that Treia meant what she said. In another moment, she would cut Aylaen’s throat.

  “I’ll give you the spiritbone, Treia,” said Skylan. “Aylaen, tell me where it is.”

  “I won’t!” Aylaen said stubbornly, through gritted teeth.

  “Aylaen,” Skylan pleaded, “this is not worth your life. Tell me—”

  He was interrupted by a growl, low and rumbling, primal and savage, sending a shiver through Skylan, raising the hair on his arms. Wulfe had disappeared. In his place was a beast—a wolf with yellow eyes and gray, scraggly fur. The wolf opened his mouth, his lip curled, revealing sharp fangs. His ears flattened back on his head. His tail swept slowly from side to side. He made no sound. Breaking into a lope, he ran at Treia, who stared
at the man-beast with wide, terrified eyes.

  Aylaen twisted out of her sister’s grasp. The knife blade sliced her neck as she escaped. Skylan met her, caught her in his arms.

  The wolf had Treia penned like a sheep in the fold. She was backed into the bulkhead and there was nowhere to run. The wolf growled menacingly and slowly advanced, one paw after the other. Treia screamed and moaned.

  “Wulfe, no! Stop!” Aylaen cried. “Don’t hurt her!”

  The wolf snarled and crouched, one foreleg raised, staring at Treia with yellow eyes. The wolf’s lips parted, his mouth opened, his teeth gleamed. He stole a step nearer.

  Treia shrieked and threw the knife wildly at the wolf, then grabbed hold of the rail and pulled herself up onto it. She hung precariously a moment, staring into the gray sea. The wolf lunged at her, jaws snapping. Treia gave a panicked cry and leaped into the waves. Aylaen ran to the side and leaned over the rail, trying to see what had become of her.

  Acronis steered the ship near the place where Treia had jumped. The Venjekar rolled sluggishly in the waves. Treia was nowhere in sight. Skylan was thinking she must have drowned, when her head suddenly broke the surface of the water. Treia floundered, gulping water and coughing. She looked up at Aylaen and then looked in the direction of Raegar’s ship. She couldn’t see Aelon’s Triumph for the waves that were rising and falling all around her. Skylan could see it. The ship was close enough he could see Raegar without the need for Acronis’s magic glass. Raegar could see them as well.

  Treia’s heavy robes were pulling at her. She raised her arms and tried to cry out. A wave swamped her and she went down. Aylaen gave a little gasp and covered her mouth with her hand.

  Treia resurfaced. Her face was white and streaming water. She choked and gagged. Her eyes pleaded for help.

  The ogre ship had also gained on them. It was near enough now that Skylan could hear the godlord shouting orders.

  The ogres and Raegar can fight over us, Skylan thought grimly.

  He grabbed one of the wooden oars and threw it down to Treia.

  “Hold on!” he cried, and began to strip off his armor, ready to jump in.

  He was astonished to feel Aylaen’s restraining hand on his arm.

  “Don’t,” she said.

  “I can’t stand by and watch a woman drown,” Skylan said gruffly. “Not even Treia.”

  “She won’t drown,” said Aylaen.

  Treia had managed to flounder her way through the waves and was now clinging to the oar.

  “Remember when Zahakis was chasing us and you threw Acronis into the water,” Aylaen said. “You told us that Zahakis would be forced to stop chasing us to save him. You were right. We escaped.”

  Aylaen looked back toward Raegar’s ship. “He’ll stop to save her.”

  Skylan was doubtful. “Are you sure Raegar loves her enough to stop to rescue her?”

  “She summoned the Vektia dragon,” said Aylaen. “Even if he doesn’t love her, she’s useful to him.” She shrugged. “But, yes, odd as it may seem, I do think he loves her.”

  Treia clutched her oar, bobbing in the water.

  “Farinn, raise the sail!” Skylan ordered. “Acronis, take us back on course.”

  Treia heard and she glared at them with such fury in her eyes that Skylan marveled the sea didn’t start to boil. Raegar stood at the prow of the war galley, pointing to Treia, directing the helmsman to guide the war galley toward her.

  The Venjekar came into the wind, gathering speed. The ogre ship had gained on them, but the Venjekar was once more bounding over the waves. With this wind, Skylan would soon leave the ogres and Raegar behind.

  Aylaen gingerly put her hand to her neck and drew back her fingers, covered in blood.

  “She meant to kill me,” Aylaen said. “She would have, if Wulfe hadn’t—”

  She stopped, looked around in alarm. “Skylan, where is Wulfe?”

  Skylan had been concentrating on his foes and forgotten the fae child, the man-beast. Skylan looked around the deck. He didn’t see the boy and wondered if the wolf had run down into the hold and, if so, would he have to go down there after him?

  He took a step and then saw Acronis pointing.

  Wulfe was curled like a wild thing on a pile of rope, his head to his knees. He was naked and shivering, but so exhausted he didn’t even feel the chill. Skylan walked over to stare down at him. This wasn’t a boy. This was a monster. He glanced at Acronis, who shook his head, not in anger, but not sure he believed what he had seen. Farinn looked sick.

  “He could kill us all,” said Skylan.

  Aylaen knelt down beside Wulfe and brushed the hair out of the boy’s eyes. “But he didn’t. He saved my life. Take him below. Let him sleep.”

  Skylan lifted Wulfe in his arms. The boy stirred, but didn’t wake as Skylan carried him down into the hold. The bedding was soaked. At least here the boy was out of the wind. Aylaen rummaged through sea chests until she managed to find a relatively dry shirt. She wrapped the shirt around Wulfe. He woke a little, blinked in confusion, mumbled something, and lay down, yawned, and closed his eyes.

  Aylaen and Skylan stood together, staring down at him. Then Aylaen shivered and Skylan put his arm around her and drew her close.

  “I love you, Aylaen,” said Skylan. “I can never take Garn’s place…”

  Aylaen lifted her head.

  “You have your own place in my heart, Skylan. I have loved both you and Garn since we were little.”

  She sighed and added, “I think I loved you more. But loving Garn was easier. Loving you … You made it difficult.”

  Skylan hesitated. “When I asked before if you would marry me, you always said no.”

  “I said no because you never ‘asked,’” Aylaen told him. “You demanded that I love you. You expected me to fall into your arms, like all the others.”

  Skylan thought back and smiled ruefully. “I was a fool.”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling.

  “Yes, I was a fool or yes, you will marry me?”

  “Both,” said Aylaen.

  Their fingers twisted, locked.

  “From this moment, our two wyrds are one,” she said.

  Skylan felt truly happy. He wished he could stay here forever. But nothing ever lasted forever. He thought of his two wyrds, one long. One short.

  “Skylan!” Farinn shouted. “Come look!”

  “You should stay here, bandage that wound,” Skylan told Aylaen.

  “It’s stopped bleeding,” she said. She paused, then said, flushing in embarrassment, “I know this sounds stupid, but I need to make certain Treia’s safe.”

  He kissed her, standing at the bottom of the ladder.

  “Skylan!” Farinn shouted.

  “I’m coming,” Skylan called back.

  He and Aylaen went up together.

  “Look. You were right,” said Farinn triumphantly. “Raegar’s stopped to save her.”

  Raegar was on deck, directing operations. Two men who could swim were in the water, tying a rope around Treia’s waist. She held fast to the rope with her hands and several of those aboard the galley, including Raegar, hauled her up over the side and onto the deck. Once she was safely aboard and the men who had saved her were back on the ship, Raegar stood on the deck, his gaze fixed on the Venjekar.

  Skylan picked up the spyglass and put it to his eye. He had to search for the galley as the sky and the sea bounced around, up and down, making him dizzy. Then he found the galley and he found Raegar. He seemed so close Skylan could have reached out and slugged him.

  The two gazed steadily at each other.

  Raegar looked about as bad as Skylan knew he himself must look. Raegar’s armor was wet. His shaved head, with the tattoo of the serpent of Aelon, glistened with sweat. He was grim with anger and frustration and fatigue. Raegar had lost his dragon. His crew was on the verge of mutiny. He had no choice but to sail back to Sinaria.

  A half-drowned and half-dead Treia came into view. She tried
to put her arms around Raegar. He shook her off.

  “He’s probably thinking he made a bad bargain,” Skylan commented to Aylaen.

  He continued to watch as Treia seized hold of Raegar’s arm and said something to him. She held up her hand, the fingers spread wide.

  Five fingers spread wide.

  “The secret of the Vektia. She does know it,” said Skylan.

  “And now so does Raegar,” said Aylaen.

  The guards escorted Treia below decks. She went meekly, her head bowed, now and then casting her lover a backward glance. Raegar paid her no heed. He was still staring at the Venjekar.

  “Mark my words,” said Acronis from his place at the tiller. “That man will be Emperor of Oran.”

  Skylan snorted in disbelief. “Raegar was a slave. A foreigner. Your people despise him.”

  “And yet,” said Acronis, “they will follow him.”

  “They’re not following him now,” said Skylan. “He’s lucky they don’t throw him overboard.”

  “He’s suffered a setback,” said Acronis. “He was once, as you say, a lowly slave and he rose to become a Warrior-Priest. Mark my words. Emperor.”

  Skylan recalled uneasily the dream, the winged serpents, the armies of Oran invading his homeland. With all five spiritbones, Raegar would rule the world. He knew the secret and so did Aelon.

  Those two are a long way from having all five, Skylan thought to himself.

  In the distance, Raegar raised a clenched fist. Even so far away, his voice boomed across the water. “I call down Aelon’s curse upon you, Skylan Ivorson!”

  Skylan laughed because Aylaen was watching. He shouted back, “I would call down Torval’s curse on you, Raegar, but the god is busy with more important matters!”

  Skylan lowered the spyglass. He looked up at the sail, filled with wind. He looked at Raegar’s ship, dwindling in the distance. He looked at the ogre ship, still too near, but now falling behind. He looked to the north, to the far horizon.