Doom of the Dragon

by Margaret Weis

  “How?” Aylaen demanded.

  “When the Gods of Raj came to this world, they realized they lacked the power to create. They were not overly concerned. They had much work to do with what was already here, your gods having left the world in such a sorry state. Still, the mystery intrigued them and they set about searching for the answer.”

  “Who told them?” Aylaen asked.

  “The dragons,” said Dela Eden. “Our people and the dragons have long been on friendly terms. The portal that leads to their world, the Realm of Fire, is located on Mount Joka of our land. It seems that Vindrash swore the dragons to secrecy, but they found out that Vindrash lied to them and they were no longer bound by their oath.”

  “So now your gods want the spiritbones for themselves,” said Skylan in grim tones.

  “Not really,” said Dela Eden. “When our gods came to this world, they were too busy fighting your gods to notice that they lacked the power to create. Aelon told them he had it and promised to share. The Gods of Raj discovered Aelon was lying, biding his time until he defeated your gods, then he was planning to turn on them. The Gods of Raj want the power of creation, but our gods will not destroy to get it.”

  Skylan blinked at this, trying to untangle her words.

  Bear Walker cut through the knot and came to the point. “Your gods and our gods agree upon one thing—the power must not fall into the hands of Aelon.”

  “Yet you said yourself you were once his ally—” Skylan began heatedly.

  Aylaen gave him a sharp jab in the ribs with her elbow and he fell silent.

  “We are all agreed on this, I think,” said Dela Eden.

  “We are,” said Bear Walker.

  “We are,” said Aylaen. “Aren’t we, Skylan?”

  “I suppose,” said Skylan, still wondering if he could trust them. At this point he didn’t have a choice. “Does this mean you will help us fight Aelon?”

  “We talked it over,” said Bear Walker, glancing back at his ogre warriors. “Aelon’s soldiers killed us once. We want a chance to avenge our deaths.”

  Dela Eden added in agreement. “Your gods offered us a bargain. My people and I have accepted. Of course, the decision is up to each one individually, but speaking for myself, I will go with you to fight Aelon.”

  Skylan should have been glad to have their help. He had asked Torval and clearly Torval had made some sort of deal with the Gods of Raj. He was tempted to ask what that bargain was, but he feared that would make him look weak, as though he didn’t have the confidence of his gods.

  He drew Aylaen off to one side, to speak in private. “What do you think we should do?”

  “What we have to do,” Aylaen said. “We need their help.”

  “What if they try to take the spiritbones for themselves?”

  “I suppose that is a risk, but I don’t think they will,” Aylaen answered. “The dragons trust them.”

  Skylan glanced up at Kahg, caught the faint red glimmer of his half-closed eyes.

  “And what about this bargain Torval made?” Skylan asked. “We have no idea what it is.”

  “If Torval had wanted us to know, he would have told us,” said Aylaen.

  Skylan sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Our song is missing a great many verses.”

  “Better than not being sung at all,” Aylaen told him.

  Skylan regarded her fondly. “What did I do to deserve such a wise wife?”

  “Not a thing. Because you don’t,” said Aylaen with a kiss. “Now go take command of your army.”

  Skylan returned to Bear Walker and Dela Eden. “I will be honored to have your courageous warriors join us in battle. The only problem now is how do we sail to the land of the Stormlords? We cannot all fit in one dragonship.”

  “There is your answer,” said Aylaen, pointing out to sea.

  Four dragonships—the largest dragonships Skylan had ever seen—were sailing toward the island. The Dragon Kahg gave a roar of greeting and the other dragons roared back in return.

  “Where do these come from?” Skylan asked.

  “Kahg says this is a gift from the dragons,” said Aylaen. “The four dragons will not fight, because they have not forgiven Vindrash for lying to them, but they will carry us across the sea.”

  Skylan looked up at the dragon. Kahg’s eyes were shining with a fierce red glow.

  The ogres and the Cyclopes boarded the dragonships. Although they were not a seafaring people, the Cyclopes were accustomed to dealing with dragons and had no qualms about sailing in a ship guided by a dragon. Skylan assigned Sigurd and Bjorn to the Cyclopes to assist them in the techniques of sailing the unfamiliar dragonship.

  The ogres presented a problem. They did not trust the dragons. Many ogres had been attacked by dragons in battles with the Vindrasi and the ogres were not happy about entrusting their lives to the beasts. In addition, the ogres did not like the dragonship itself, declaring it too fragile. Ogres could not swim and they felt safe only on large, hulking ships.

  Raven’s-foot refused to board and Bear Walker looked grim.

  Skylan explained to them that the ogres were far safer in the dragonships than in their own, reminding Bear Walker that in the fight with the kraken, the ogre ship had perished, while the Venejekar survived.

  Bear Walker at last agreed. All the ogres tromped on board, with the exception of Raven’s-foot. The shaman stubbornly refused to come anywhere near a dragon. Bear Walker solved the problem by punching his shaman in the face, knocking him out cold, then ordering his men to carry him on board.

  The dragonships were stocked with food and water and even with weapons and shields for the ogres and humans, as well as new bows and arrows for the Cyclopes—gifts from Torval and the Gods of Raj. While the others were stowing their gear, Skylan boarded the Venejekar and looked around his ship with a heart filled with pride and eyes blurred by tears.

  He looked first at the place on the deck where he had seen his body, carefully tended, loved. The body was gone.

  “I need to ask your forgiveness, Skylan,” Farinn said, flushing with shame.

  “What for?” Skylan asked. “You have done well in my absence. Aylaen praised you for your courage and your care of her.”

  “I thought you were dead,” Farinn confessed. “I wanted to give your body to the sea.”

  “I thought I was dead,” said Skylan, grinning. “So I can understand your mistake. Do not sing my death song yet.”

  He walked to the prow. Kahg’s spiritbone was back in its customary place, hanging from its nail. Skylan greeted the dragon and thanked him for his help. The dragon had nothing to say, but his eyes glowed with pleasure.

  The only person Skylan had not yet seen was Wulfe. He had assumed he would find him talking with the oceanids, but he wasn’t anywhere on deck.

  “I think he’s afraid you’re mad at him. He was the one who took your amulet,” said Aylaen.

  “Why would he do that?” Skylan wondered.

  “He wanted something to remember you by,” said Aylaen. “I believe you’ll find him hiding in the hold.”

  Skylan went down into the hold in search of the boy. He found Wulfe crouched on a pile of fishing net, hugging his legs, his chin on his knees.

  Skylan sat down beside him.

  “Wulfe, I’m not mad—”

  Wulfe interrupted him. “Is it true what Aylaen says—that we are sailing to the land of the Stormlords?”

  “Yes,” Skylan answered.

  Wulfe cringed and hugged his legs closer.

  “Why? What is wrong? Are you afraid to go there?” Skylan asked.

  “No, yes, maybe,” Wulfe mumbled.

  Skylan waited for the boy to explain. When Wulfe remained silent, Skylan stood up.

  “Keep your secret then,” he said good-naturedly. “I have work to do. We’ll be ready to sail soon—”

  “My mother lives there,” Wulfe blurted out.

  “With the Stormlords?” Skylan asked, startled.
>
  “Not with them, silly. Close by. In the Uncharted Lands, with the rest of my people.”

  Skylan didn’t understand what the boy meant. He’d never heard of these Uncharted Lands, and he was fairly certain he didn’t believe him. If what the boy said was true, then somehow he’d managed to travel halfway around the world to the place near Vindraholm where the druids had found him and where he had found Skylan.

  “You could go visit her,” Skylan said, unable to think of anything else to say. He didn’t want to hurt Wulfe’s feelings. The boy was unhappy enough as it was.

  Wulfe startled him by leaping to his feet.

  “But what if she doesn’t want to see me?” Wulfe cried. “What if she doesn’t even remember me? She used to come every night to sing to me and she hasn’t come to me in a long time. Not in a long, long time.”

  Wulfe collapsed back onto the fishnet and buried his head on his knees.

  Aylaen shouted down into the hold, “Skylan, we are ready!”

  “I’m needed on deck,” said Skylan to Wulfe.

  He paused, then awkwardly rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Wulfe, you don’t have to go back to your people if you don’t want to. You can stay with me.”

  “For always?” Wulfe peered up at him through his shaggy hair.

  “For always,” said Skylan, smiling.

  “You mean until you die,” said Wulfe. “Uglies are always dying.”

  “Not much we can do about that,” said Skylan, laughing.

  “It’s not funny!” said Wulfe. Glaring at Skylan, the boy scrambled to his feet and ran off.

  Skylan took his place at the prow, alongside Aylaen. Together, they looked around at the other dragonships. His friends raised oars into the air, indicating they were ready.

  “Take us to the land of the Stormlords,” said Skylan.

  Kahg steered the Venejekar through the water. The sea was sparkling, the skies clear, the wind fair. Skylan looked back at the Isle of Revels, thinking he might see Joabis and his reveling souls celebrating the departure of the rowdy warriors.

  The god and the souls must have been in their longhouse, making merry, for he saw no one.

  BOOK

  2

  CHAPTER

  20

  The news that the Stormlords had murdered two of Aelon’s priests spread throughout the Oran Empire. People were outraged and demanded retribution. When Raegar announced he was going to war, kings and nobles from all over the empire sent soldiers, weapons, and gold.

  Raegar’s immediate problem was how to transport his vast army to the land of the Stormlords. He could have marched his army overland, for the Stormlords ruled the southern part of the same continent, Kharajis. The march would have taken months, however, and winter was closing in, which meant he would have to wait for spring. Aelon had promised her help, however, and Raegar waited for a miracle.

  The miracle came one day, in the form of a decrepit old man who accosted Raegar in front of the temple as he was going to his morning meeting with the priests. Thinking the old man was a beggar, Raegar gave him a coin and bid him be off.

  “Two galleys, each as big as a palace, your lordship,” said the old man. “Could be of some use, I’m thinking, and I know where to find ’em.”

  The guards were about to hustle the old man out of the emperor’s sight, but Raegar stopped them. The old man did not appear to be senile, nor did he have the slovenly look of a beggar, now that Raegar studied him.

  “What are you talking about, old man?” Raegar asked.

  “Come with me, your lordship, and I’ll show you.”

  “Lead the way, then,” said Raegar.

  “You’ll be needing torches,” said the old man. “Terrible dark it is in there.”

  Raegar ordered Commander Eolus to fetch torches and they set out. Raegar didn’t really believe this tale, but he was intrigued and also glad to have an excuse to avoid yet another boring meeting with the priests, who wanted to advise him on strategy and tactics, about which they knew less than nothing.

  Raegar’s relationship with the priests had worsened of late, as had his relationship with Aelon herself. Aelon’s casual admission that she had killed her own priests had badly shaken Raegar. The thought lurked in his mind that if she could betray them, she could betray him, too. He wanted some proof that she was as loyal to him as he was to her. A miracle would go a long to reassuring him.

  Accompanied by Commander Eolus and six members of his guard, Raegar followed the old man to the outskirts of the city. They tramped among the docks and warehouses, eliciting curious stares from the workers, and entered a part of Sinaria that had been long abandoned.

  An earthquake had leveled this portion of the city some fifty years ago, causing much destruction and considerable loss of life. Since only the poor had been living here, no one wanted to spend the money to rebuild. The poor who had survived had moved out. Rats had moved in and life went on.

  Raegar and his men picked their way through the ruins, dodging the rats that scurried around them in a furry, screeching torrent. Reagar could see that Commander Eolus and his men were growing increasingly uneasy, fearing an ambush. Raegar found the outing enjoyable, a welcome break from the dreary routine of church politics. He winked at Eolus and pushed on.

  The old man led them to a cave in the side of one of the Sinarian hills and indicated that Raegar was to enter.

  “In there?” Raegar was amused. “Two galleys as big as a palace?”

  The old man gave an eager nod.

  Raegar shrugged and started forward. Commander Eolus stepped in front of him. “Sir, you’re not serious! You don’t believe this old geezer.”

  “Why would he make up such a tale?” Raegar asked.

  “To get you killed, sir,” said Eolus grimly. “At least, let me go in first and check to see if it’s crawling with assassins.”

  “Nonsense, Commander. We’ll go in together. I haven’t had a good fight in a long time,” said Raegar. Drawing his sword, he gestured to the old man. “Let’s go see your galleys.”

  His men lit their torches and Raegar entered the cavern, flanked by Eolus on one side and the old man on the other. The cavern was cool and dry and smelled of wood. He saw no assassins. What he did see, emerging from the darkness, illuminated by the torchlight, were the prows of two enormous war galleys.

  Raegar was startled. He had certainly not expected to find war galleys in a cave. He was also disappointed. He had been expecting something far more miraculous.

  “Bring the light, your lordship,” said the old man, “and come inspect her. You must get the full effect.”

  “What I see are two galleys,” said Raegar.

  “The eye can be fooled,” said the old man, grinning.

  Raegar took one of the torches himself to view the first galley, accompanied by the old man, who regaled him with the galley’s features.

  “She is four hundred and twenty feet long, fifty-eight feet from gangway to plank, and seventy-two feet high to the prow ornament.”

  Raegar had to admit that the galley was solid, built by men who had obviously taken pride in their labors, unlike the work of today’s slipshod laborers. The dry atmosphere and constant temperature of the cave had kept the galley preserved for what the old man claimed to have been over fifty years.

  “She and her sister ship were built for the father of our late empress, based on designs that came from an ancient people who once ruled the world, so the story goes,” said the old man. “I was a shipwright, one of many who worked on her. Then came the earthquake. The ships weren’t harmed, but many people died in the city. The priests of the old gods—those who came before Aelon—read the omens and said the gods were offended and that work on the galleys must stop immediately or worse disasters would befall.”

  “And so the emperor stopped work,” said Raegar.

  “He didn’t have much choice,” said the old man drily. “Many workers and their families had been killed in the quake and th
e rest believed the omens and refused to come back.”

  He lovingly rested his hand on the hull of one of the galleys. “She’s a wonder, and that’s no mistake. During a trial run she took aboard over four thousand oarsmen and four hundred other crewmen, and on deck two thousand eight hundred marines.”

  Raegar snorted in disbelief. “You exaggerate, old man. No galley, no matter how big, could carry that many.”

  “Ah, but she can, your lordship,” said the old man with a glint in his eye. “If you’ll give me the loan of your torch, I’ll show you how…”

  Raegar handed over the torch and followed the old man deeper into the cave. At about amidships, he stopped to stare, hardly crediting what he was seeing.

  “Blessed Aelon be praised!” Raegar murmured.

  For here was an even greater miracle. What he had thought were two separate war galleys were actually two galleys connected by a large platform that extended from one galley to the other.

  “Double-prowed and double-sterned,” said the old man. “With room to transport not only men, but war machines, cattle, horses, weapons, and such.”

  The old man went on to describe the ingenious system the galley’s designers had developed that allowed the rowers on the inner sides of both galleys to row without knocking oars, but Raegar was paying scant attention.

  He was making calculations. Two such double-hulled galleys each carrying four thousand rowers, who were also soldiers, and another two thousand marines would give him an army of twelve thousand.

  “What do think, Commander?” Raegar asked.

  “She is certainly impressive, sir,” said Eolus. “But a ship that size—will she float?”

  “Like a leaf on a stream,” the old man boasted.

  “We will name her Aelon’s Miracle,” said Raegar. “And her sister will be Aelon’s Revenge. I’ll give orders to haul them out of the caves and start work immediately.”

  He rested his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “You have earned rich reward, old man. What would you like?”

  “To see my beauty sail the sea will be reward enough, your lordship,” said the old man with tears in his eyes.