Doom of the Dragon

by Margaret Weis

  Skylan continued along across the small strip of beach, keeping his gaze on the ground. He found the ale barrel tipped over on its side; the bunghole wide open. The sand beneath was wet and smelled strongly of ale.

  Skylan straightened. Keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword, he continued to investigate and soon had an idea of what must have happened.

  “You can stop yelling,” he told Joabis. “Your crew didn’t wander off. They ran away.”

  “How do you know?” Joabis demanded.

  “They left behind a full ale barrel, overturning it in their haste,” said Skylan. “The footprints are deep, made by men running off in terror, and they all lead one direction—into the forest.”

  Joabis paled. “Do you know what attacked them?”

  “I don’t see any signs of a battle,” said Skylan. “But something scared them. I’ll keep searching—”

  “No, no,” said Joabis. “We should be leaving. Help me haul the ship into the water.”

  “We can’t sail without a crew!” Skylan protested.

  “Vindrash will send us a dragon,” said Joabis, puffing and panting as he hurried toward the ship.

  “Don’t you want to know who attacked your men and what happened to them?” Skylan asked.

  “Not particularly,” said Joabis, mopping his face with his sleeve. “Lift the prow. I’ll take the stern.”

  Skylan helped carry the dragonship, taking the prow, which was the heavy end, and between them they managed to haul the ship into the warm, crystalline water. The two hoisted themselves on board.

  The dragonship rocked in the water, moving gently back and forth with the motion of the waves, not going anywhere. Skylan looked around the ship. Sea chests were upended, their contents scattered about the deck. The crew had not stowed the oars properly in the center where they belonged. They had taken the mast down, the patched sail lay in sloppy folds on top, and the hatch to the hold gaped wide open.

  Judging by the mess they had left behind, Skylan decided that Joabis’s crew was no great loss.

  Righting a sea chest, Skylan sat down and waited for Joabis, who was holding a whispered conversation with the Dragon Goddess. Skylan heard her name, “Vindrash!” and, “This is all your fault!” and, “You owe me!”

  “Now what does all that mean?” Skylan asked himself.

  He didn’t like to think about the answer.

  Within moments, a green and gold dragon appeared in the sky, flying down from the top of the mountain. The dragon hovered for an instant above the ship, then vanished, infusing the ship with his spirit. The eyes of the dragon on the prow began to glow with life. The dragonship glided out of the smooth waters of the cove and sailed out into the open sea.

  Joabis was restless. He sat down on a sea chest, but after a few moments, he jumped up and began pacing the deck. Then he sat back down and looked at Skylan.

  “What’s going on?” Skylan demanded. “Why does Vindrash ‘owe you’?”

  “I’m too thirsty to talk,” said Joabis, fanning himself with his hand. “Fetch me some ale. There’s a barrel in the hold.”

  Skylan scowled. “I am not one of your souls you can order about. Answer my questions and I’ll think about it.”

  Joabis drew a greasy leather pouch from his tunic, opened it, and shook out some dice. “We will roll for it. You win and I’ll answer your questions.”

  “How about this?” said Skylan grimly. “You answer my questions and I won’t kick a hole in the hull and sink your damn boat.”

  Joabis cast him a baleful glance, gathered up his dice and dropped them back into the pouch. “What do you want to know?”

  “Even though I am not dead, I am in the realm of the dead, right?” Skylan asked.

  “Yes,” said Joabis, eyeing him warily.

  “Your crew were all souls who come to dwell with you on your isle.”

  “That is true,” said Joabis.

  “So what frightens dead men so badly that they run off and leave a barrel full of ale behind?” Skylan demanded. “More to the point, what’s frightening you?”

  Joabis stood up and headed for the hatch. “I’ll fetch my own ale.”

  “I’m coming with you,” said Skylan.

  “Suit yourself,” said Joabis, shrugging.

  Skylan headed for the hatch, noticing a strong smell of ale wafting up from the hold. Joabis descended the ladder that led down in to the hatch and Skylan followed, backing down the ladder.

  The hold was dark, especially after the glare of the sunlight, and Skylan couldn’t see. He could smell, however, and the stench of ale was overwhelming. He could also hear a sloshing sound, as if the hold were filled with water.

  “Does this damn boat of yours leak?” Skylan asked.

  Joabis’s answer was a shriek of dismay.

  “What’s wrong?” Skylan demanded, peering into the darkness, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “What is it?”

  When his eyes adjusted, he could see for himself. Every single barrel had been chopped up like kindling. The hold was awash in ale, with broken barrel staves and other debris floating on top, sloshing back and forth with the movement of the ship.

  Skylan relaxed. “This must have been a merry party—”

  “Party? Are you mad?” Joabis wailed. “I didn’t do this! I wouldn’t destroy my own ale! I’ve been attacked by pirates! They’ve stolen everything!”

  He was standing at the bottom of the ladder, wringing his hands with ale lapping around his ankles, clearly agitated. Skylan waded into the mess, examining empty wineskins and picking up sodden sacks.

  “This wasn’t pirates. They didn’t steal, they destroyed. Whoever did this came in search of something.”

  Joabis’s knees sagged and he nearly fell, saving himself by catching hold of the ladder for support.

  “What do you mean?” he asked in a quavering voice. “How can you know that?”

  “Pirates would have stolen your supplies and run off with them. Whoever was here took an axe to the ale barrels, slit open the wineskins with a knife, and slashed the sacking.”

  “You’re right,” said Joabis, gnawing his lip. He had gone quite pale. “You must be right.”

  Skylan eyed him. “First your crew runs off in fear and then your ship is searched. Why?”

  Joabis scowled. “Ask Hevis.”

  “Hevis?” Skylan was surprised at this suggestion. “What does he have to do with this? Why would he be searching your ship and scaring your crew?”

  “He claims I lost to him at dice. I refused to pay and he must have come here to collect,” Joabis replied. “I need to determine if my possessions are safe, but not with you breathing down my neck. Wait for me on deck.”

  “With pleasure,” said Skylan. “I’ll be glad to get away from the stench.”

  He didn’t just mean the ale. Joabis sickened him. While Torval and his brave warriors were fighting for their lives, he and Hevis the Trickster—another sorry excuse for a god—were squabbling over gambling debts.

  “And close the hatch!” Joabis shouted.

  Skylan dropped the hatch with a bang and went to stand by the prow, looking out to sea. Foam frothed around the keel. Spray flew over the deck, spattering Skylan, who enjoyed the coolness. The sun poured her molten gold on the blue water and he wondered where they were and how long this hateful voyage must last. The sea stretched on endlessly with no land in sight.

  Skylan still had more questions for Joabis and he grew impatient for the god’s return. Walking back to the hatch, he stomped on it with his foot.

  “Are you all right?” Skylan yelled. “You didn’t drown in your own ale, did you?”

  After a moment, the hatch opened and Joabis appeared, looking much more cheerful, holding something behind his back.

  “Hevis didn’t find it!” he announced.

  “Didn’t find what?” Skylan asked.

  “My treasure.” Joabis brought forth a small box made of wood decorated with silver on the edges and a
silver lock in front. “He didn’t find it this time, but I’m afraid he might come back. I’m no warrior, but you are. I want you to guard it for me.”

  He held out the box to Skylan, who folded his arms across his chest.

  “I need to know what I’m guarding.”

  “Do you?” Joabis asked, adding slyly, “I don’t see why the contents should matter to a warrior such as yourself. All you care about is dying gloriously in battle.”

  Skylan made no move to take the box.

  Joabis dithered, then said crossly, “Very well, I’ll show you! You must promise to tell no one.”

  He cast a suspicious eye on the dragon sailing their ship and then motioned Skylan to walk with him to the stern. Holding the box close to his chest, Joabis hunched his shoulders over it, fit a small silver key into the lock, then lifted the lid.

  The little box seemed to blaze with dazzling fire. Sapphires and rubies, emeralds and diamonds sparkled in the sunshine.

  “Beautiful, aren’t they? I have traveled the world over in search of them,” Joabis said proudly. “I keep the best for myself, of course, but I give some to the dragons who sail my ship. Hevis knows this and he knows I carry the jewels with me for that reason.”

  Skylan understood. The Vindrasi had always given jewels to the dragons in payment for sailing their ships and protecting them, a bargain the dragons and the Vindrasi people had struck centuries ago. The dragons sorted through the jewels, kept the gems they wanted, and returned the rest as a reward to the warriors.

  The Vindrasi had no idea why the dragons wanted the jewels. Most believed the dragons coveted the wealth. Legend told of vast dragon hoards hidden in the mountains, though no one had ever found them or, if they had, lived to tell the tale. Skylan had come to wonder if there might be a reason that had nothing to do with the value of the gems. He had seen the Dragon Kahg select a small emerald, badly set and crudely cut, over a large ruby with a heart of fire.

  “Give me the jewels,” said Skylan, holding out his hand. “I will find a new hiding place for them and I’ll keep them safe. On my honor as a Vindrasi.”

  “I’m not sure I can trust you,” said Joabis, shutting the box.

  “Then don’t give them to me,” said Skylan, exasperated. “This was your idea.”

  He turned to walk away.

  “No, stop!” Joabis cried and reluctantly handed Skylan the box, giving it a loving pat as he let it go.

  “I’ll need that leather pouch,” Skylan said, pointing.

  “It holds my dice,” Joabis protested.

  “I want those, as well.”

  Joabis muttered under his breath, but he handed over the pouch. Skylan emptied the dice onto the deck and poured the jewels into the pouch. He then scooped up the dice and placed those in the box, which he handed back to Joabis.

  “Lock it and put it back in its hiding place,” he said.

  “A good idea,” said Joabis with an attempt at a pleased smile. “Hevis will find it filled with dice, not jewels. I can’t believe I never thought of that. Where will you hide my treasure?”

  Skylan went over to the mast, knelt down at the foot and stuffed the pouch containing the jewels into the hole where the mast fit into the wooden planking.

  Joabis watched with approval, then announced his intention of taking a nap. “I’ve had a fatiguing day. You can tidy up while I rest.”

  Draping the sail over the hull to form a crude awning against the sun, Joabis crawled beneath it, laced his fingers over his chest, and closed his eyes.

  Skylan dragged one of the sea chests into the shadow cast by the dragon-head prow and slumped down, telling himself he’d be damned if he would clean up Joabis’s mess. The sea was flat, the sun blazing, and there was no breath of wind. Skylan sat and sweated, listened to Joabis’s whistling snore and wondered what the god was plotting.

  His claim that Hevis had chopped up barrels and sent dead men running off in a panic, all to steal a handful of jewels, stank like yesterday’s fish.

  “He goes to a great deal of trouble to hide his gems and the next moment, he’s eager to show them to me,” Skylan muttered. “He’s half mad with fear. Even though we’re alone on this ship on an empty sea, he can’t take three steps without looking over his shoulder. And why are my men on his isle? How did they get there? If he isn’t lying about that, as well.”

  Skylan stood up and set to work. He could no longer stand to look at the disorder. He stacked the oars in their proper place, straightened the tangled wad of fishnet, and began repacking and righting the overturned sea chests. He was still working at this when Joabis sat bolt upright.

  “Voices!” he gasped, peering about. “I heard voices! Did you hear them?”

  Skylan shook his head. “You must have been dreaming. There’s nothing between us and the horizon. Not so much as bird.”

  “I tell you I heard someone talking!” Joabis said nervously. Rolling over, he managed to haul himself to his feet and went to stare into the sea.

  A wave rose up and slapped him in the face. Joabis gasped and sputtered, wiping water from his eyes and swearing. From somewhere below the keel came the sound of merry laughter.

  Sklyan grinned.

  “Relax,” he told Joabis. “The voices you’re hearing belong to oceanids, the fae folk who live in the sea. They’re annoying, but not dangerous.”

  “What do they want?” Joabis asked, still trembling. “Talk to them. Tell them to go away!”

  “You tell them,” said Skylan. “You’re a god. I don’t know them.”

  “They know you,” said Joabis. “They’re calling your name!”

  “Impossible. You’re hearing things,” Skylan retorted.

  But now he was curious, and began listening more closely. At first all he heard was the waves splashing against the hull; then it seemed the waves spoke words: “Skylan Ivorson,” repeated over and over.

  Telling himself he was only hearing his name because Joabis had put the thought into his head, Skylan went to the stern and leaned over. The moment the oceanids caught sight of him, the beautiful women with their silvery, sleek bodies and long, sea foam–colored hair swam to the side of the ship. Swirling about the keel like a school of fish, some even excitedly began leaping from the water like dolphins.

  The oceanids reached out their hands to him, as though they would pull him into the sea. Startled, Skylan drew back. Although the oceanids had come to his aid in the undersea world of the Aquins, he still viewed all fae folk as chaotic and unreliable, not to be trusted.

  “What do they want with you?” Joabis asked, coming to stand near Skylan, but not so near that the oceanids would splash him again.

  “I have no idea,” said Skylan.

  “You had better find out and shut them up,” said Joabis nervously. “All that noise and commotion they’re making, they’re sure to draw attention to us.”

  Skylan wondered whose attention the oceanids were likely to draw, but he went back to the stern to talk to them.

  “What do you want of me?” Skylan asked dourly, feeling foolish.

  The oceanids were greatly excited and all of them answered at once. He couldn’t make out what they were saying until he caught a word he recognized.

  “Wulfe?” Skylan repeated. “What about Wulfe? Not all of you together. Only one of you talk. You, there!”

  He pointed to the oceanid who was closest to him, swimming in the water directly beneath him.

  “Our prince is searching for you!” the oceanid called, bobbing up and down with the motion of the sea. The other women around nodded their heads. “He sent word out to all the fae folk in the world to look for you.”

  “Prince? What prince?” Joabis asked.

  “They mean Wulfe, a foundling I took aboard my ship,” said Skylan. “He says he is the son of a faery princess.”

  “You believe him?” Joabis was disdainful.

  “No,” said Skylan. “But he’s my friend.” He turned back to the oceanid. “Why is Wulfe
looking for me?”

  “Because your soul is lost, silly!” said the oceanid with rippling laughter. “Our prince misses you and so does your wife. They want you to come back. We will take you to them.”

  “I miss them,” said Skylan. “I want to go back to my wife and my friends, but I can’t. Not yet.”

  “He is coming with me!” Joabis explained. “To the Isle of Revels.”

  The oceanid clapped her hands in delight. “We know the isle. The dragonship on which our prince sails is very near there! We will take you to him. We do not want to disappoint him.”

  “No, we must go to my isle!” Joabis protested. “The matter is urgent!”

  The oceanids ignored him. Diving beneath the sea, they swam back with long ropes of seaweed festooned around their bodies. They wrapped the seaweed around the neck of the dragon-head prow, apparently offending the dragon, for the red glow faded from the eyes. A green-and-gold dragon materialized above the ship, spread his wings, and flew off in the direction of Torval’s mountain.

  The dragonship slowed to a halt, drifting in the water.

  “Now look what you’ve done!” Joabis cried, rounding on Skylan. “We’re becalmed! Sure to be caught!”

  Skylan was barely listening. “They’re not going to leave us here. They’re going to take me to Aylaen.”

  Some of the oceanids grabbed hold of the seaweed ropes wrapped around the prow, twined them about their bodies, and began to swim, pulling the ship, while other oceanids pushed the ship from the stern.

  The dragonship began moving through the water, slowly at first and then picking up speed until it was bounding over the waves. Foam boiled beneath the keel and seawater splashed over the prow. Joabis gave a hollow cry, lurched across the deck, and tumbled down into the hold.

  Skylan stood by the prow, his hands gripping the rail, his legs braced. The seawater broke over him, cooling him. He tasted the salt on his lips.

  “Torval,” Skylan prayed, “all I ask is the chance to let Aylaen know I will come back to her. Wherever she is, I will find her.”

  CHAPTER