Rage of the Dragon

by Margaret Weis

  Treia squeezed his hand and Raegar knew immediately he’d said something stupid.

  The Flame Master was careful not to smile. “The Priest-General would not have wanted to interfere with your duties, I am certain. You would speak to your priests only on matters of extreme importance or in an emergency.”

  “Ah, yes, of course,” said Raegar, blushing at his mistake.

  “When you want to summon one of the priests, you speak to the Watcher in residence, who will then summon the priest. Pour the sacred oil upon the water. Ask Aelon’s blessing and light the flame. Speak the name of the priest three times. The Watcher will appear.”

  Raegar cleared his throat. “If you could … uh … remind me of the name of the High Priest of the Aquins—”

  “Ceto, Worshipful Sir,” said the Flame Master.

  “Ah, yes, of course,” said Raegar.

  He glanced triumphantly at Treia and was gratified to see her looking awed and even dazed.

  The Flame Master rose to her feet. “If you no longer have need of me, Priest-General, I will leave you to conduct your business in private.”

  “Thank you, Flame Master,” said Raegar.

  He squatted awkwardly down before the silver bowl and motioned for Treia to join him. She did so nervously and with some trepidation. Raegar lifted the flask of holy oil, offered a prayer to Aelon, and poured the oil carefully upon the water. He took a wooden taper, touched the tip to the flame, and waited for the taper to catch fire. He then lowered the flame to the oil floating on the surface of the water.

  The flames spread across the water. Raegar spoke the name of the High Priest of the Aquins three times. The flames on the water began to swirl and rise up, forming a small cyclone of fire in the center of the bow. The heat washed over them. Treia gasped and drew back. Raegar sat gazing intently into the water.

  A face appeared, startling Raegar. The face was a pale green in color with greenish-blond hair adorned with seashells.

  Treia gasped and stared at Raegar in slack-jawed astonishment. Raegar was inordinately pleased. He so rarely had the chance to impress his clever wife.

  “I am Raegar, the new Priest-General,” he said to the Watcher.

  “We heard of the sad death of Xydis. We extend our condolences. What is your will, Priest-General?” the Watcher asked.

  “I wish to speak to Ceto, High Priest of the Aquins,” said Raegar. He hesitated, then said, “I am speaking to a member of the Aquin race, is that right? You … uh … live beneath the sea?”

  The Watcher seemed amused, but too respectful to do more than give a very slight smile. “We reside in the City of the Fourth Daughter, Worshipful Sir. The city itself is not beneath the sea. Our cities are built in the interior of atolls. But we Aquins have an abiding love for the sea and spend much of our time there. Please wait while I fetch her, Worshipful Sir.”

  She was gone but a few moments, then another face appeared in the water. Ceto was also a woman. Raegar had never heard of a woman being High Priest, but he did not want to appear ignorant by asking any more questions.

  The High Priest bowed. “I am here at your command, Priest-General. How may I serve you?”

  Raegar had to gather his scattered wits. The truth was, he had not expected to be talking to a person who lived underneath the ocean. Treia, beside him, was no help. Generally glad to put herself forward, she was mute with amazement.

  “My wife has a dearly beloved sister who was on board a ship when it was attacked by a kraken. My poor wife, who is carrying our child”—Raegar was becoming fond of announcing that—“is beside herself with grief. We were hoping that through the miracle of Aelon, your people have rescued this woman and her companions.”

  The High Priest gave a grave nod. “Rumors have reached us that several land walkers were saved from a kraken by those who live in the City of the First Daughter. I paid little heed to such gossip, not knowing at the time that these people might be of importance. I will find out what I can and return to you with information.”

  “The man’s name is Skylan Ivorson. The woman’s name is Aylaen Adalbrand. We are most interested in the welfare of the woman,” said Raegar.

  “Of course,” said the High Priest, as if that were a given. “I will be in contact.”

  The face vanished. The flame went out, leaving Raegar and Treia sitting in the dimly lit darkness. They waited for their eyes to adjust, then Raegar rose to his feet and solicitously assisted Treia.

  “You no longer doubt the power of Aelon,” said Raegar.

  “No, my love,” Treia murmured. Her hand on his arm trembled.

  Raegar was pleased. Treia had always seemed cynical about Aelon. He was glad to hear her finally speak of the god with reverence.

  BOOK

  3

  CHAPTER

  21

  The Norn, three sisters who rule the destinies of gods and men, sitting beneath the World Tree, spin the wyrds of men. As Raegar’s thread runs through their gnarled twisted fingers, the Norn laugh over the follies of those whose lives they hold so loosely and carelessly. Raegar’s wyrd seems made of golden thread these days and spins headlong toward glory. Beneath the sea, the wyrds of Aylaen and Skylan, Farinn and Acronis and the Dragon Kahg seem to have slipped off the wheel, for time slows beneath the sea. The Norn keep fast hold of these mortals, however, twisting and tangling and binding together and cutting apart.

  * * *

  Aylaen woke from a horrifying dream of tentacles rising up out of the water and wrapping around the Venjekar, Kahg roaring in fury and sinking his fangs into a tentacle and the mast breaking, falling … to a more horrifying reality of pain in her head, and being held underwater by strange-looking women who were trying to smother her by pressing a mask over her nose and mouth. When Aylaen fought and tried to tear the mask off, the women took hold of her hands and would not let go.

  Aylaen breathed deeply and kept breathing. The pain and terror subsided, replaced by dazed wonder to realize that she was far below the surface of the sea, being carried along to some unknown destination by the women who had … saved her life. Gradually, Aylaen began to think the horrible dream had not been a dream at all. The Venjekar had been attacked by a sea monster. The Dragon Kahg had fought it off. The mast had fallen on top of her and that was the last she remembered until waking up in another world.

  She could see very little of her surroundings, for the water was dark and murky, the women far below the surface where the sunlight could not reach. They carried small, translucent globes that gave off an eerie bluish-white glow, which they used to find their way. As Aylaen went along, she began to worry. What could have become of Skylan and the others? She was alone; the women had carried her off, away from the ship and her friends. Having saved her life, the women appeared to have taken her prisoner.

  Legends and tales of the Aquins came confusedly to her mind. They were half-fish, half-human—who saved sailors from drowning. She had awakened from a dream to find herself in a bard’s song, only these women did not have scales or fins, though they swam as gracefully and rapidly as dolphins.

  Aylaen could not communicate with her captors, two of whom held her fast and linked arms around her. Three more women swam near, carrying the globes and their weapons. The flow of the saltwater over Aylaen’s body had a soothing effect. She slipped into a kind of trance, as though her mind and body had parted company.

  At length the water began to grow brighter. The sea floor appeared to be rising. She looked up. Sunlight filtered down from above, illuminating the world beneath the waves. Aylaen gazed about in awe and amazement at the marvels around her: plants swaying with the motion of the water; fish glowing as though they were lit by flame; other fish more colorful than birds, flashing and swooping by or gazing at her with goggle-eyed uninterest. And all of it in almost complete silence.

  The quiet was comforting, unlike the silence of an abandoned house that weighs heavily upon the spirit, nor the awkward, uncomfortable silence of two who can f
ind nothing to say. Nor was the silence frightening, like the whispering, rustling silence of the woods at night. The silence of the sea was tranquil, restful, and all the more amazing for the motion and activity and life.

  Only a few months ago, Aylaen had never given a thought to what lay beyond her own forests and fields and mountains. All that had changed. She had seen wonders and horrors, the giants of the Dragon Isles, the teeming city of Sinaria, the great stadium of the Para Dix, and now a world beneath a world. She had known death and loss and grief. She had loved and lost and found that love could come again. She looked back on the Aylaen who had considered walking the short distance to Owl Mother’s remote cabin an adventure and viewed her former self with pity for her ignorance mingled with regret for its loss.

  The Aquins swam with her to the surface, removed their masks, and looked about. Aylaen blinked, dazzled by the sunshine. She tried to take off the mask, to ask questions, but the Aquins stopped her.

  “We have surfaced only to gain our bearings, Vindrasi Lady,” said one of the women. Her speech was rapid and darting, like the fish, but Aylaen understood her.

  “We are taking you to our city,” the Aquin added, pointing to a small dome-shaped island covered with trees. The island looked like a green mound rising out of the water.

  Aylaen could see no signs of a city, no other dwellings or buildings, and she wondered what the woman meant, but she was too sick with fear for Skylan and the others to pay much attention. Desperate to find out what had become of them, Aylaen pointed to herself and then held up five fingers, hoping to make the Aquin understand that there had been five people aboard the ship.

  “You are asking about your males,” said the Aquin. Her voice grew stern. “We saved two of them, an old man and a young man. They are being held until our Queen has made her judgment regarding you. I believe the commander of our forces, Neda, saved another human, a male who had been caught by the kraken. He will be held with the others.”

  Aylaen sighed softly in relief. She asked about the fifth, making a sign to indicate someone smaller than the others, a child.

  The Aquin stared at her with a frown, not knowing what she meant. Then, suddenly, she raised her eyebrows.

  “Do you mean the fae child, the prince? He was with you?”

  Aylaen had no idea what the Aquin meant by a prince, but she nodded her head.

  “We assumed he was with the oceanaids,” said the Aquin. “He swam off with them.”

  Aylaen wanted to ask more, but the Aquin told her curtly they were supposed to rendezvous with their commander in the city. They started to drag Aylaen back underwater, but she resisted.

  Finally, one of the Aquins removed her mask. “Tell me where you are taking me,” she said.

  The Aquin again pointed to the island. “We are taking you to our city, Lady.”

  “I see no city,” said Aylaen. “I see only an island with nothing on it. Am I to be marooned there? Left to die?”

  The Aquins stared at each other, momentarily perplexed, then they suddenly began to laugh.

  “The island that you see, Lady, is actually the top of a mountain. Our city is not on the island,” the Aquin said. “Our city is built inside the mountain. The entrance is beneath the water. Come with us, Lady, and you will see wonders few land walkers ever experience.”

  Aylaen didn’t have much choice. They treated her with respect, but she was still their captive. They dragged her down under the water again and continued on their way to the city that was beneath the water, inside a mountain.

  The Aquin commander was waiting for them in front of the underwater entrance to the city—a cave-like opening in the side of the mountain. The opening was guarded by a portcullis made not of iron, but of the teeth of some gigantic sea creature that had been driven into the rock. The teeth were set far enough apart to admit humans to swim through them, though only a few at a time.

  The Aquin commander took charge of Aylaen at the gate, indicating that the others could go about their duties. She drew Aylaen into the opening. Swimming past the huge teeth, Aylaen felt as though she were entering the maw of some gigantic sea monster.

  Once inside, Aylaen and the commander broke the surface of the water. The commander removed the mask from Aylaen’s face. Aylaen was glad to breathe normally again and she drew in deep breaths and gazed around in wonder at beauty that pierced her heart.

  The commander introduced herself as Neda.

  “Welcome to the City of the First Daughter, Vindrasi Lady.”

  Aylaen could only stare. Aquins told her that the City of the First Daughter had been carved out of the interior of the mountain by the hand of the Sea Goddess. The city was built in levels that ascended up the interior walls in a spiral like a nautilus. Roads cut into the rock ran from one level to another. Houses and shops of various shapes and sizes lined the roadways, all of them facing out over the water, for the sea formed a vast lake in the center of the city. Shafts of sunlight shining down through skylights illuminated the city from above, while openings in the rock just beneath the surface of the sea caused the sunlight to shine through the water, suffusing the water and the cavern with radiant blue light. Groves of bamboo grew on the upper levels, directly beneath some of the skylights, and small patches of greenery grew beneath others. Aylaen would later discover that these green patches were small fields and orchards where the Aquins grew fruit and vegetables.

  The city was filled with people, some walking along the paths, while many others swam in the water.

  “I understand you are taking me to the Queen,” said Aylaen. “Is the palace far?”

  “Some distance,” said Neda. “The palace is located in the mountain’s interior.” Giving Aylaen an appraising glance and seeming to see for the first time that Aylaen was faint with exhaustion, the commander added, “We will travel in skiffs.”

  The skiffs to which she referred were similar to wooden rafts. There were a great many of them gliding across the surface of the water. Female Aquins stood at the back, steering and propelling the skiffs by means of long poles that they thrust into the water, shoving them off the floor of the cavern. Other Aquins sat on the skiffs, dangling their feet in the water, or standing at their ease. The commander raised her voice and shouted; an empty skiff immediately headed in their direction.

  Ropes of seaweed hanging from the sides allowed people to pull themselves out of the water and onto the skiff. Neda pulled herself aboard the skiff with ease.

  Aylaen grabbed hold of the rope and tried to pull herself aboard. Her arms ached. Her legs were limp from fatigue. She fell back into the water. Neda saw her distress and reached down her hand, helped pull her on board. Aylaen sat on the skiff, shivering in her wet robes, and gazing in amazement at this strange and wonderous city.

  A group of Aquin women swam over to the side of the skiff to stare and giggle at Aylaen, who stared back at them. The women were pointing and commenting on what Aylaen was wearing and Aylaen was staring and blushing at what the Aquin women were not wearing, for many of the women were bare from the waist up, while others wore only what looked like a flimsy shift that revealed more than it concealed.

  In the city she saw, for the first time, the male Aquins. Two men were riding on a skiff traveling in the opposite direction. The men were taller and heavier than the women, though with the same fine, light bone structure. They wore nothing but loincloths. They had long hair, which they wore braided.

  One of the men had a bundle strapped to his body. Aylaen saw that he was carrying a baby. The man caressed the child lovingly, patting the baby’s back soothingly when the child began to whimper. The two men were chatting. Both men stopped talking to stare curiously at Aylaen as they passed. A frown from the commander caused both men to shrug and turn away, resuming their conversation.

  Looking around, Aylaen saw many Aquin males with small children strapped to their chests. Other men were shepherding groups of young children along the walkways or supervising their play in the water. St
ill others could be seen carrying baskets or bundles. Aylaen saw one man outside a dwelling wielding a broom.

  Aylaen looked from the broom-wielding male to the commander seated on the raft, armed with her spear, and realized dazedly that this world was all upside down. Men took care of babies while women fought sea monsters. She tried to imagine the Vindrasi men sending their women out to fight while they stayed home to keep house. She almost laughed out loud at the thought.

  Commander Neda instructed the skiff’s pilot to take them to the palace. The pilot and Neda were the only two passengers on the boat. Seeing that the pilot was busy attempting to steer the skiff among the swimmers, Aylaen asked the commander what had become of Skylan and the others.

  “Your males have been taken to prison to await the judgment of our Queen.” Neda fixed Aylaen with a narrow-eyed and penetrating stare. “Her Majesty will want to know why you have invaded our realm.”

  “Invaded!” Aylaen gasped, shocked. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep warm and wondering at the Aquins, swimming in the water, wearing practically nothing. “We did not invade your realm. None of us had any idea your realm was even down here. We were attacked by the kraken that dragged us below the water.”

  “We know you Vindrasi,” said Neda coldly. “We have been rescuing you people for centuries. Your males are warriors who delight in raiding your neighbors. You came here in one of your dragonships, which your dragon is now guarding. For all we know, it was your dragon that attacked the kraken. Your males will be taken to the dungeons for safekeeping until our Queen decides your fate.”

  “Dungeons!” Aylaen was growing angry. “I tell you again, we are not invaders. I want Skylan and the others to be with me when I come before the Queen.”

  “To meet Her Majesty?” Neda snorted. “Never.”

  “Then take me to the dungeons with them,” said Aylaen boldly. “They are my friends. Skylan is my … my betrothed.” She had never said the word before now and she blushed.