Rage of the Dragon dov-3

by Margaret Weis

  A wave hit the Venjekar. Skylan’s arm jerked with the movement of the ship. The glass slipped from his eye and he lost sight of the godlord. Swearing, he braced himself against the rail, jammed the spyglass into his eye socket, and stared so intently his eye began to water. He caught only a brief glimpse, before the godlord left the rail and walked off.

  A brief glimpse, but that was enough.

  Skylan lowered the glass. He had seen all he needed to see-a torque made of heavy gold formed in the shape of two dragons, their tails intertwined, their heads facing each other. The two dragons held between them a spiritbone set with a sapphire.

  The Vektan Torque.

  Skylan had been prepared to sail halfway around the world to the ogre nation to retrieve the stolen Vektan Torque. And here it was.

  On the neck of an ogre.

  On a ship that was sinking.

  If he didn’t act swiftly, the Vektan Torque would be on the neck of a dead ogre on a ship lying at the bottom of the sea.

  Skylan raised his eyes to heaven. “Torval, I can’t do this! They have twenty ogre warriors to my four, five counting a fey child who can turn himself into a wolf. You can’t ask this of me!”

  Skylan waited, but he heard only silence and the slapping of the waves against the hull. He looked back at the ogre ship to see the sunlight gilding the water with gold.

  Skylan looked up at the Dragon Kahg. The dragon’s eyes seemed to shine with a golden glint.

  “You, too,” he muttered.

  Skylan heaved a sigh and yelled.

  “Bring the ship about!”

  Acronis and Farinn and Aylaen all started talking at once.

  “What are you doing? We’re going home!”

  Skylan shook his head.

  “No,” he said, “we’re going to save the ogres.”

  They stared at Skylan in stunned disbelief. Before any of them could move, the Dragon Kahg took it upon himself to bring the Venjekar onto the new course, sailing toward the ogre vessel that looked to be lower in the water every time Skylan glanced at it.

  Aylaen had watched and listened in shocked silence until the ship was under way and then she sucked in an angry breath and came storming at Skylan.

  “What do you think you are doing?” she demanded. “Are you still trying to prove you are a man by chasing death? You will get us all killed-”

  “The ogres have the Vektan Torque,” said Skylan in flat, unemotional tones.

  Aylaen gaped, the rest of her tirade forgotten.

  “Bear Walker is wearing it around his fat neck,” Skylan continued. “And his motherless dung heap of a ship is sinking, and if that whoreson godlord sinks with it, the Vektan Torque will lie forever at the bottom of the sea.”

  “How is that possible?” Aylaen asked in a strangled voice. “You must be wrong.”

  “Take the glass. See for yourself.”

  Aylaen grabbed hold of the spyglass and brought it to her eye. She gazed through it for a long time. Then she lowered the glass slowly.

  “You’re right. He is wearing it.” Aylaen sounded dazed. She looked at Skylan in dismay. “What are we going to do?”

  “Ask Kahg,” said Skylan with a grim glance at the dragon.

  Aylaen shivered in the bright sunshine. “The dragon knows you want him to attack the ogres, but that would put the spiritbone at even greater risk. He cannot recover the spiritbone. Only we can do it.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Damn it! This isn’t fair!”

  “Aylaen, I’m sorry-” Skylan reached out to comfort her.

  “I’m not blaming you,” Aylaen said wearily. “It’s just … we were going home…” She evaded his grasp and disappeared down into the hold.

  Skylan sighed deeply. He longed to go comfort her, but he had to keep his attention focused on the ogres. Bear Walker and the shaman and several ogre warriors were gathered at the prow, watching the Venjekar and gesturing wildly, confused and alarmed at Skylan’s sudden change of course.

  Acronis looked questioningly at Skylan. “This Vektan Torque. A bit of gold jewelry. Is that really worth risking death at the hands of the ogres?”

  “The Torque belongs to the Vindrasi,” said Skylan. “It is sacred to our people. There are five Vektia dragons like the one that destroyed your city. We took the spiritbone of one of them from Treia. That ‘bit of gold jewelry’ holds the spiritbone of a second.”

  Acronis raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I see.” He scratched his jaw. “Do the ogres know how to summon this Vektia dragon?”

  Skylan had not considered this possibility.

  “I’m assuming they don’t,” he said. “Otherwise they would have used the second Vektia dragon to attack Sinaria. But that’s another reason to recover the Torque. We can’t risk having them find out.”

  “How did they get hold of this spiritbone?” Acronis asked. “You said it was sacred to your people.”

  “The Vektan Torque was given to our people at the beginning of the world by the goddess, Vindrash. A cowardly chieftain-Horg, by name-traded the Torque to the ogres in return for saving his own hide.”

  Skylan did not tell the rest of the story-how he had fought in single-hand combat with an ogre godlord, killing him and recovering the Torque, only to lose it to the shaman and his foul magicks.

  Wulfe came up on deck, tugging irritably at the shirt that was too big for him.

  “What did you do to make Aylaen cry?” Wulfe asked, scowling at Skylan.

  “We were going to go home,” said Skylan. “And now we’re not.”

  “You wouldn’t have made it anyway,” said Wulfe. “This shirt itches. Do I have to wear it?”

  “Yes,” said Skylan. “What do you mean we wouldn’t have made it?”

  “The oceanaids warned you to leave.” Wulfe scratched and squirmed and wriggled.

  Skylan snorted. “What did your fish friends say was going to happen?”

  “They’re not fish!” Wulfe said, offended. He cast a wary glance at the dragonhead prow and said in a whisper, “Kahg knows.”

  “Knows what?” Skylan asked.

  “What’s coming!” Wulfe hissed. “That’s why he was sailing away.”

  “Then why did the dragon turn back?” Skylan asked, then he realized he already knew the answer. “The Vektan Torque. The dragon won’t leave because of the spiritbone.”

  Wulfe shrugged, not interested. “I’m going to go tell Aylaen I hate this shirt.”

  Skylan cast an uneasy glance at the dragon, hoping for a sign, a reassuring flicker of the eye. But Kahg wasn’t communicating. Aboard the ogre ship, the ogres were gesturing and pointing, and once again Bear Walker had to chase them away from the ship’s rail.

  The waiting was hardest. A tense silence fell over the small group on board the Venjekar. Aylaen brought food: bread and olives. Skylan ate because his belly demanded to be fed, not because he had any appetite. The vague shape of a plan was forming in his mind. It wasn’t much of a plan, but at least it was better than nothing.

  Wulfe had returned with Aylaen. She had found him a different shirt, one made from linen instead of wool.

  “You and I need to talk,” said Skylan to the wolf-boy.

  Reaching out, he ruffled the boy’s hair, a gesture of affection that startled Wulfe.

  “What’d you do that for?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Thank you for saving Aylaen,” said Skylan.

  “I didn’t do it for you.” Wulfe rubbed his hands vigorously over his head to restore his hair back to the way it had been. “I did it for her.”

  “Thank you,” said Skylan. “But don’t do it again.”

  Wulfe regarded him through narrowed eyes. When he saw that Skylan wasn’t angry or accusing, Wulfe ducked his head. “I can’t help it.”

  “I think you can,” said Skylan quietly.

  “My daemons tell me to do it!”

  “Don’t listen.”

  “It’s hard!” Wulfe mumbled.

  “I know,” said Sk
ylan. “I’ve had to quit listening to mine.”

  Wulfe stared at him and then gave an abrupt nod. “I’ll try. But I don’t promise.”

  He wandered off to go stand by the rail, staring out at the sea and occasionally wiping his eyes. Acronis had been listening and when Wulfe had gone he came over to talk to Skylan.

  “I am right in thinking I did see that boy change himself to a wolf.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Skylan. “Like those wolves that attacked us in Sinaria. The wolves that weren’t wolves. If you ask the boy, he’ll tell you it’s a curse from his grandmother, the Faerie Queen.”

  Acronis shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense, you know. It’s not scientifically possible.”

  “Yet you saw it,” said Skylan.

  “Yet I saw it,” said Acronis.

  The Venjekar was now near enough to the ogre ship that Skylan ordered Farinn to trim the sail, slowing their speed. He guided the Venjekar to within hailing distance, yet out of spear range.

  “What are you going to do?” Aylaen asked, attempting to sound calm. She had once more put on the Sinarian armor and buckled the sword of Vindrash around her waist.

  Acronis was wearing his armor and his sword. Farinn was holding a battle-axe Skylan had given to him and trying to look as if he knew how to use it. Wulfe paced nervously, like a dog in a cage. Keeper lay beneath the sailcloth, peacefully sleeping the final sleep, waiting for Skylan to fulfill his promise to take him home.

  “Pray to Torval,” said Skylan. Touching the amulet, he shouted across the sea. “Bear Walker! I did what I promised. As you can see, I chased off your enemy, the Sinarian war galley. I have proven my friendship.”

  Bear Walker did not immediately answer. He was understandably suspicious. He looked from Skylan to Raegar’s ship limping back to Sinaria. The godlord had witnessed for himself the battle between the two dragons. He had seen Skylan’s dragon defeat the dragon of his foes. Bear Walker had also seen Skylan’s ship start to leave.

  The godlord grunted and shouted at Skylan, “Why did you turn around and come back?”

  Skylan had anticipated this question, which was a logical one. He was prepared with his answer. “When I saw that your ship was sinking, lord, I came back to help.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bear Walker said, glowering. “My ship is not sinking.”

  “You are taking on water, lord,” said Skylan. “Is it possible you don’t know?”

  “I know,” said Bear Walker, shrugging. “We are working to plug the leak.”

  Skylan could tell by the glances the ogres at the rail gave one another that the leak-plugging was not going well. Bear Walker glared at them, doubtless warning them not to say a word.

  “I am skilled in ship-building, lord,” said Skylan. “To prove my friendship, I will come aboard to help patch the leak.”

  Bear Walker was at first amazed, and then gave a loud guffaw. “What if I save you the trouble and take your ship?”

  Skylan shrugged. “What if I sail away and let you drown?”

  “You won’t,” Bear Walker said smugly. He put his hand on the Vektan Torque, made a show of stroking it. “You want this gewgaw I wear. That’s why you came back.”

  Bear Walker grinned at Skylan’s discomfiture.

  “My shaman, Ravens-foot, told me the story. He says that your chief, a human named Horg, gave the ogres this gift as a mark of respect. You challenged the godlord to a battle and when you lost to him, you tried to steal the Torque-”

  “Your whoreson shaman lies!” Skylan cried, losing his temper. “I fought your godlord in single combat and I killed him!”

  “You’re not helping!” Aylaen warned.

  The ogres were angry, shouting that he lied, that no human was a match for a godlord.

  Skylan thought swiftly. “The reason I was able to kill him was because our gods had cursed him!”

  The ogres fell silent, listening. Ogres were respectful of the gods, all gods, even those they did not worship. Skylan remembered how Keeper had urged Aylaen to fight for the honor of her goddess, Vindrash.

  “Horg had no right to give the ogres the Torque,” Skylan continued. “It did not belong to him. The Torque belongs to the Vindrasi people. It was a gift to us from the gods. When Horg stole it, the gods cursed him.”

  Bear Walker tore the Torque from his neck. “Are you saying this thing is cursed?”

  “Horg died a terrible death,” said Skylan gravely. “The godlord who wore the Torque after Horg died a terrible death. Your shaman knows the truth. Ask him!”

  Bear Walker turned to Ravens-foot, who began spluttering, probably protesting that Skylan was trying to trick them. Bear Walker’s face darkened.

  “Now you are wearing the Torque and misfortune has dogged you, Bear Walker!” Skylan pressed home his advantage. “Your raid ended in disaster. Your ship is sinking. The gods’ curse is on you!”

  The ogres on board the ship backed away from Bear Walker. The godlord eyed the Torque, then shoved it at the shaman. Ravens-foot shook his gourd at it and edged away. Bear Walker was left standing all alone, the Torque in his hand. He looked from the Torque to the foaming waves.

  “He’s going to throw it in the sea!” Aylaen gasped.

  “Give me the Torque!” Skylan yelled hastily. “When the Torque is in my hands, our gods will lift their curse from you.”

  Bear Walker mulled this over. He wasn’t stupid. He didn’t trust Skylan and yet he didn’t have much choice.

  “You will patch our ship?” he asked.

  “I will. I swear by Torval!” Skylan vowed. “Let me come aboard.”

  Bear Walker ordered his men to toss down a rope, which they did with alacrity. Skylan smiled reassuringly at Aylaen, who was watching unhappily.

  “Pray to Vindrash for me,” said Skylan, taking hold of the rope. “You are in command while I’m gone.”

  “Me?” she said, startled.

  “If something happens, you and Kahg sail the Venjekar home. You can meet up with Sigurd.”

  “I’ve found you, only to lose you,” Aylaen said in sorrowful tones.

  “You haven’t lost me yet,” said Skylan, grinning.

  He gave her a swift kiss on the cheek and then began to climb the rope, hand-over-hand. He had gone only a short distance when Wulfe seized hold of his ankle.

  “It’s coming!” Wulfe yelled frantically. “It’s coming! It’s almost here!”

  “Let go, damn it!” Skylan swore, twisting on the rope and trying to kick at the boy, who was holding on to him with a strength born of terror. “Aylaen, Farinn, get him off me!”

  Before they could grab him, Wulfe let go. Skylan continued his climb. Wulfe stood on the deck, staring up at him, his face contorted in fear. Skylan hesitated, remembering the time Wulfe’s oceanaids had warned him a storm was coming. Skylan hadn’t listened and his ship had been caught out at sea in a raging tempest.

  The sky was clear. But the sea was unsettled, shining with a greasy, oily sheen. Suppose Wulfe was right, and something bad was coming.

  “All the greater urgency for me to get my hands on the Vektan Torque,” Skylan said grimly.

  Several ogres offered to help Skylan, seizing hold of him-armor, sword, and all-lifting him up bodily and heaving him over the rail with as much ease as if he’d been the scrawny Wulfe. Once on board, Skylan could tell by the feel of the ship-sluggish and foundering-that it was taking on water at a rapid rate. He feared it was too far gone to save. He’d do what he could, however. He’d made a vow to Torval and he meant to honor it. After he had the Torque.

  He walked over to greet Bear Walker. The two exchanged pleasantries. Ravens-foot, the shaman in the feathered cape, shook the gourd at Skylan, who stared at the shaman coldly and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “I am here, as I promised,” said Skylan. “Give me the Torque. The curse will be lifted.”

  “You can have the damn thing,” said Bear Walker.

  He h
eld out the Torque. The gold shone brightly in the sunlight. The two dragons, holding the spiritbone between them, seemed to be watching Skylan with their jeweled eyes. His heart swelled with pride and pleasure.

  He started to grasp hold of it. “Thank you, Torval…”

  But before he could finish his prayer, the sea boiled. A horrible smell, as of a barrel of rotting fish, and enormous tentacles, gray and scaly and as big as mighty oak trees, shot up out of the water. The tentacles wrapped around the ogre ship. The Torque fell from his hand. Before Skylan could think or catch his breath or panic, the tentacles dragged him, the ship, and the ogres beneath the waves.

  CHAPTER 11

  The Aquin commander and her troops were on routine patrol near the City of the Third Daughter, when they received a report that a gigantic kraken had been sighted in their territory. The report came from several extremely excited naiad (fae folk who dwell in the sea, known by humans as oceanaids), and was therefore suspect, especially since kraken were not known to hunt in these waters. The commander, Neda, nonetheless decided she had better investigate.

  She communicated the news to her patrol through a series of squeals and whistles used by the Aquins to communicate beneath the water. Since they might have to swim a far distance without being able to surface for air, the Aquin people made use of their breath-masks, devices concocted of large clamshells containing a specially grown seaweed that exchanged stale breath for fresh oxygen. The clamshell attached to the back of the swimmer with straps. A mask fit over the nose and mouth. A tube fed the oxygen supply to the swimmer.

  The Aquins were a race of humans who lived in cities beneath the sea. Many tales were told about them, particularly among seafaring people, but much of the information in these tales was not true. For example, Aquins did not have the upper bodies of humans and the lower bodies of fish. They did not have gill slits, nor could they breathe water. The tales were true when they told that the Aquins were a peace-loving people who kept to themselves, avoiding the wars and disputes that raged among their land-dwelling cousins. The tales also spoke truly when they said that Aquins were known to come to the rescue of sailors who were washed overboard or swimmers who found themselves out beyond their depth, saving them from drowning.