Winging his way back to the Venejekar, Kahg reflected on what she had told him. She and the others had taken back their spiritbones. He had been worried that the humans were carrying the spiritbones of the dragons. If he killed the humans, he might well have killed the dragons and he had vowed never to destroy his own kind, no matter how misguided they might be. He had seen too much of that in the Realm of Fire and he had planned to try to find a way to warn her she might be in danger, if he could do so without imperiling Skylan’s mission. That was no longer necessary.
Kahg was free to act, to assist with the attack. They would strike by night, when Fala and her dragon friends were either away hunting or sleeping with full bellies. He would do his part to help Aylaen summon the dragon. He let himself dream, briefly, of meeting, perhaps even flying with, the Great Dragon Ilyrion.
He did not let himself dream long, not wanting to have to face the sorrow of disappointment. He did not have much hope for a successful outcome. The humans, Skylan and Aylaen, were well-meaning, but humans were so fragile and their foes were strong and powerful, numbering a god among them. The Vindrasi gods would try to help, but they were having difficulty helping themselves.
The Dragon Kahg knew what he would do if they failed. He would not live in a world ruled by Aelon. He would return to his home in the Realm of Fire and take his chances there.
He went back to the Venejekar to tell the human Skylan, whose name he still remembered, that he would undertake the mission. The dragon then said what might be his final prayer to the Dragon Goddess Vindrash.
“I know my anger has cast a shadow between us. I would not have that shadow remain. Wherever the stars guide you, Vindrash, I wish you well.”
CHAPTER
37
Aylis the Sun Goddess sank into the west, letting her radiance shine for what might be one last time. Tomorrow Aelon of the New Dawn might rule the world. Skylan and the Cyclopes boarded the Venejekar and, guided by the Dragon Kahg, the sleek, fast dragonship stole out of the river and sailed into the sea.
Skylan and Dela Eden scanned the darkening sky, watching for the signal from Bear Walker that the ogres were in position and they were cheered to see a single flaming arrow arc through the air, then drop back down.
The sun had disappeared and the afterglow had faded from the sky by the time the Venejekar sailed around Gray Beak. The white rock looked ghostly in the night. There was no wind. The waves lapped against the shore. Skylan had prayed to the Sea Goddess for calm waters and he was grateful his prayer had been answered.
The plateau and the fallen city of Tsa Kerestra came into view. The storm clouds that had swirled for centuries above the plateau were gone. The night sky was clear and cloudless and filled with so many stars that they cast their own cold, brittle light. The moon looked strange, round and fat and radiant, almost outshining the sun.
Skylan decided that Aelon must have captured the moon. The god wanted all the universe to see the glorious rout of his foes.
“You will get an eyeful,” Skylan promised.
In addition to the white light of stars and moons, a bright orange glow lit the night. At first, Skylan could not figure out what it was. As the Venejekar slipped over the waves, drawing nearer to the Sinarian camp, they realized the glow came from enormous bonfires, lighted to celebrate victory.
Only the city of Tsa Kerestra was dark, a black blotch on the horizon. No lights shone anywhere.
Skylan looked back at the bonfires. He could see the silhouettes of people coming and going. Skylan did not like to use the magic glass that made people who were far away seem to jump suddenly at the legate’s face, but he needed to see what was going on. He picked up the glass and put it to his eye.
The firelight blazed in front of him, so close it seemed he could touch it.
“What is happening?” asked Dela Eden. “Do they celebrate?”
“Joabis would be proud,” Skylan replied wryly.
The soldiers of Oran were good fighters, fearless and well disciplined. Skylan had reason to know, for he had lived among them, fought with them and against them. He also knew the Sinarians drank as hard as they fought.
And why not celebrate? They had good reason. The fabled city of the Stormlords had fallen—literally so—without a blow being struck. They had won the greatest victory the world had ever known and Raegar would see to it that his men drank to his triumph and enjoyed themselves. Many were probably roaring drunk by now, including their officers.
The Venejekar glided swiftly over the waves, stealing close to the massive galleys. The captains would leave a few men on board to keep watch. The rowers, who were also trained soldiers, and most of the rest of the crew would be ashore.
The two enormous galleys floated at anchor within hailing distance of one another, but far enough apart so that they wouldn’t collide. Lanterns hung from the bows and sterns to signal their positions. The smaller boats and wherries used to ferry men and supplies clustered around the galleys, reminding Skylan of baby ducklings huddled around their mothers.
He could hear loud talking and drunken laughter coming from the decks of the galleys. Apparently those keeping watch had been supplied with food and drink to make up for the fact that they were missing the celebration. A good captain would have seen to it that those on watch drank nothing stronger than watered wine. Judging by the sounds of raucous laughter drifting over the water, Raegar had few good captains.
Skylan stripped off his armor and gave his sword into the care of Dela Eden.
“Keep watch over Wulfe,” he told her.
Dela Eden glanced at the boy, who was talking with the oceanids, and shook her head.
“The Gods of Raj go with you,” she said.
Skylan slipped over the rail and dropped into the dark water, where he was immediately accosted by the oceanids, all agog with excitement, wanting to know what he was doing.
“Wulfe!” Skylan called irately, spitting out a mouthful of water. “Tell your fish friends to leave me alone!”
“They’re not fish,” said Wulfe.
Skylan started to say something and swallowed more water.
“They only want to help,” Wulfe added.
The beautiful fae women with the sleek silvery bodies and long sea-foam hair eagerly nodded. Catching hold of Skylan, they almost dragged him under in their enthusiasm.
“They can help by keeping out of my way,” Skylan said, spitting out more water as he tried to fend off the oceanids. He coughed and motioned to Dela Eden. “Send down that barrel. And stop laughing.”
Grinning at him from the rail, Dela Eden used ropes to lower the barrel of resin into the water, taking care not to let it splash, though it was doubtful if anyone celebrating aboard the galleys would have heard.
The barrel landed near Skylan, briefly sank, then popped back up to the surface. They had filled the barrel only half full of resin, so that it would float. Skylan grabbed the barrel, rested his hands on it and propelled himself through the water with powerful kicking. The oceanids swam at his side, darting around him, gliding beneath him.
He swam to the largest of the small boats drifting near the closest galley and stopped in the water to watch and listen. He kept his head down, hiding among the boats that had been lashed together to keep them from drifting away.
The men on duty on the galley were playing a favorite Sinarian gambling game in which one man tossed a handful of stones on the deck while the others placed bets on how many he would throw. Skylan heard the men shouting out the bets, groans from the losers and cheers from winners.
He raised his head. Judging by the smell, the boat he had chosen had been used to haul the cattle and pigs on which the men were probably now feasting. Skylan lifted the barrel up and over the gunwale and let it fall onto the deck, cringing at the loud thud. He waited a tense moment for someone on the galley to hear it and come investigate. The game continued uninterrupted, and he breathed easier.
He caught hold of the gunwale, and pulled h
imself on board the livestock boat and dropped onto the deck in a crouch so that he wouldn’t be seen in the moonlight. Removing the small axe he had cinched around his waist, he chopped open the barrel and dumped the resin liberally around this boat and others lashed to it, holding his breath to keep from inhaling the fumes.
This done, he risked standing upright in order to wave his arms to let Dela Eden and her archers locate their targets. Then he slipped over the side, swam to a safe distance, treaded water, and waited.
A torch flared on board the Venejekar. He could see the light moving from person to person, and the smaller flares of the resin-soaked tow wrapped around the arrows bursting into flame. The archers aimed at the resin-soaked boats and fired. Some arrows fell into the water with a sizzle and others struck the hulls, but several landed in the boats. The resin burst into flame. The fire spread rapidly, and soon four boats were burning.
The Dragon Kahg appeared, sleek and silent, a dark shadow against the moonlight, his silver-gilded scales faintly shining. He circled overhead once, then dove so fast that Skylan barely had time to swim out of the way before the dragon unleashed a blast of air that hit the burning boats. His breath fanned the flames, spreading them from the four boats to others massed around the first galley.
Kahg waited until the boats were all blazing brightly. He glided over the water, drew in his breath, and blew a gust of wind on the burning mass, shoving the flaming wreckage up against the hull of the galley.
By now, the men on board the galley had caught sight of the flames and rushed to the rail to peer over the side, exclaiming in alarm at the sight of the burning boats bumping against the galley’s wooden hull. One of them caught sight of Skylan’s fair hair shining in the moonlight and, pointing at him, let out a yell.
Skylan grinned and waved, knowing he was safe. The fire had spread to the oarlocks and was running along the benches where the rowers sat. One of the enraged soldiers hurled a spear at Skylan. The spear splashed into the water some distance away, missing him, but reminding him that this night’s work had only just begun.
He swam back to the Venejekar, surrounded by the excited oceanids, who were jeering at the soldiers. The Cyclopes archers shifted targets, aiming their fiery arrows at the sails and rigging aboard the galley, keeping the crew busy above deck while the fire continued to spread below.
Dela Eden helped haul Skylan back on board.
“Time to sail to shore,” said Skylan.
With the dragon gone, the dragonship had to rely on rowers. The Cyclopes laid down their bows and manned the oars. They were accustomed to rowing their fishing vessels and soon the Venejekar was speeding over the waves, heading for the shore near the base of Gray Beak.
Handling the tiller, Skylan had his back to the flaming trireme and he had to twist to look over his shoulder to see the Dragon Kahg making another pass. This time, the dragon sucked in a huge breath and blew the galley—now engulfed in flames—toward another group of small boats surrounding the second galley, Aelon’s Miracle.
The galley’s crew was helpless to save their ship. They were few in number. The thousands of rowers needed to move the ship were all ashore, and even if they had been on board, they wouldn’t have been able to extricate the ponderous galley from the blazing mass of smaller boats now setting fire to the hull.
Kahg fanned the flames and the blaze spread. The soldiers shot arrows and threw spears at him, but such puny barbs simply bounced off his scales. Sucking in another enormous breath, the dragon blew the entire mass of flaming wreckage, including the two burning galleys, toward the other ships in the fleet.
The conflagration lit the night. The soldiers on board the burning galleys abandoned ship, jumping into the water, while those aboard the ships in the path of the fire were shouting for help that was going to be slow in coming.
The Venejekar sailed into shallow water. Sigurd and the others ran out to help pull the ship onto the beach.
Assisted by Sigurd, Skylan hurriedly strapped on his armor. Dela Eden was making use of the magic glass, which she declared to be a marvel.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Confusion and chaos,” Dela Eden reported, grinning.
Skylan touched the amulet in thanks to Torval. The first part of the plan was working. Time to launch the second.
“They won’t know what hit them,” said Sigurd, handing Skylan his sword.
“They will, soon enough,” Skylan said.
He buckled on his sword, his thoughts with Aylaen. The last stanzas of the song belonged to her.
CHAPTER
38
Aylaen and Farinn stood together at the window of Owl Mother’s dwelling, watching Aylis the Sun Goddess rise high into the sky. The time was almost noon. Aylaen was thinking that Skylan would be back on the Venejekar, making plans for tonight’s attack.
“Skylan will be looking up at the very same sun,” said Aylaen, “and I know what he will be thinking. That he will never live to see another sun rise. Isn’t that right?”
She glanced at Farinn, who thought he should make some sort of protest, but in the end he could only nod.
“He knows that he will die this night in battle and he is not afraid, for he will go with Torval no matter where the god will wander, even into exile, cast out of this world. For that is how the song must rightly end.”
“The song rightly ends when you and Skylan and the gods are safely home,” said Farinn.
“That would be a good ending,” said Aylaen. “But sometimes good endings are not meant to be.”
“I wish you trusted me enough to tell me what you are going to do,” Farinn said, brooding.
“I am going to obtain the fifth spiritbone and summon the Great Dragon Ilyrion,” said Aylaen. “You know that.”
“I don’t think that’s all,” said Farinn unhappily.
“Perhaps that is all I know,” said Aylaen. “Skylan and I both trust you, Farinn, and that is why he wanted you to stay with me. Whatever the future brings, you must make a record of it for our people.”
“One god saw the future,” said Farinn. “What Sund saw drove drove him mad.”
“Sund lost his faith in men,” Owl Mother said, coming up to stand behind them.
“But isn’t it the other way around, Owl Mother?” Farinn argued. “Isn’t mankind supposed to have faith in the gods?”
“Faith is a river that runs both ways—upstream and down,” said Owl Mother. “Men have faith in their gods, but the gods must also have faith in men. Sund had too little faith in men and so he was afraid of the future. Torval had too much faith in men and he let the future go to hell. Put that in one of your songs.”
“I don’t understand,” said Farinn.
“Someday, if all goes well, which it generally doesn’t, you might,” said Owl Mother. “Ah,” she added somberly, cocking her head. “There it is.”
They had all heard the sound of an explosion.
“What was that?” Aylaen asked, alarmed.
“The sundering of the realms,” said Owl Mother and she gave a sigh, then shrugged. “Let’s have supper.”
She started to head for the kitchen, but she stopped, staggered a little, and put her hand to her eyes.
Aylaen put her arm around Owl Mother’s shoulders. “I am sorry.”
“I’m not,” Owl Mother insisted, dabbing at her eyes. “Don’t mind me. I’m just being an old fool. The realms are sundered and there’s an end to centuries of disdain and blind conceit. The closing of the portal is something I’ve long advocated and I should be happy. I am happy.”
She wiped her nose with her sleeve. “It’s just going to take a little getting used to.”
“What happens now?” Farinn asked.
“Tsa Kerestra will appear in this realm. The city will look the way Raegar expects it to look—stone wall, gates, silver spires, gold domes—and those of us who chose to stay will act the way Raegar expects us to act. We will negotiate terms of surrender, which, of course,
Raegar has no intention of honoring. That should take all afternoon. We will open the gates at sundown.”
Aylaen was pensive. “Skylan won’t be expecting any of this. I think you should have told him.”
“Your Skylan will figure out what to do. He’s a good man, Aylaen. Maybe even a great one,” said Owl Mother. “And if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it.”
Owl Mother and Farinn went to “magic up” supper, as Farinn put it. Aylaen walked out to the garden that now lay in shadow to look through the chink in the wall. Raegar’s armies had massed on the beach that was now within walking distance; so many soldiers that their glittering ranks, bristling with spears, seemed numberless. Three dragons flew overhead, circling, menacing. Those handling the negotiations had only to tell the wizards to look over the wall to see their doom and they would effect easy terms of surrender.
Skylan is out there somewhere, revising his plans, Aylaen thought. He has no fear for himself. He’s worrying about me. He is a good man, as Owl Mother says. Maybe even a great one.
She felt connected to him, the tugging of the threads. Their wyrds could never be severed. No matter what happened.
CHAPTER
39
As twilight came, Aylaen made her preparations. She put on the dragon-scale armor and then, one by one, removed the spiritbones from the embroidered pouch and laid them out on the floor.
She was already wearing the Vektan Torque around her neck. She took up the second, the spiritbone that Vindrash had given the mad god Sund, and Sund had given to Aelon in the desperate hope of saving himself. She lifted the golden chain over her head. The dragon with its golden wings and emerald eyes came to rest on her breast.
She picked up the third, her wedding gift from the Sea Queen, and slid the golden bracer bedecked with pearls onto her arm. She smiled as she pinned the brooch of Joabis onto the soft leather tunic she wore beneath the armor. Pressing her hand against the Vektan Torque, she moved within her own being, trying to sense the spirit within the bones as she did when she touched the spiritbone of the Dragon Kahg, feeling it stir and quiver, a part of the living dragon. She felt nothing from these spiritbones and she wondered with a pang of fear if they were empty, dead. Perhaps the spirit of the great dragon had long ago fled the world.
Doom of the Dragon Page 32
