Skylan’s braced arm stopped Aylaen and Wulfe. Keeper grabbed the priestess, putting his huge hand over her mouth.
From this part of the villa, they had a good view of the paved road that led up the hill. The road was to their left. The barracks, the stables, and the armory ahead on their right. The main part of the villa and the atrium were behind them.
Six men wearing the uniforms of the Temple Guard came riding up the highway. They rode swiftly and brazenly, not bothering to keep to the shadows. Each man carried a naked sword, blades shining in the moonlight.
“Have they come for us?” Aylaen whispered.
Skylan shook his head. “Raegar thinks we’re lying dead in the catacombs. They’re here for the Legate.”
The men galloped past never looking their direction. They were heading for the front entrance. They had nothing to fear. No soldiers would be there to stop them. Seeing them gave Skylan an idea.
“Aylaen,” said Skylan, “stay here with Wulfe and the Priestess. Keeper, go fetch horses and weapons and enough armor to make us look like the Legate’s soldiers. I’ll meet you around at the front of the villa.”
Aylaen caught hold of him. Her eyes were gray in the moonlight and bright with anger.
“You’re going to save him, aren’t you? You’re going to risk your life to save him—the man who made us slaves!? Leave him to his fate.”
“I would,” Skylan said, “but I need him.”
He ran off, retracing his steps through the atrium. As he ran, he calculated the amount of time it would take the soldiers to reach the front of the villa. They would have to dismount and gain entrance through a locked door. Once inside, they would lose time searching the large house for Acronis, whereas Skylan knew exactly where to find him.
He went to the lighted room and flung wide the door that led from the atrium. The flames of the oil lamps wavered and danced as the night air rushed inside with him. The still, pale figure lay on the bed. Chloe’s body had been washed and perfumed. Her hair was brushed and arranged around her face. Her hands lay folded on her chest. Her eyes were closed. Her expression was peaceful, with even the hint of a smile.
Skylan looked about for Acronis and could not find him. He knew he could not be mistaken. A father’s loving hands had brushed her hair and composed her body. Then Skylan heard a sound coming from the far end of the room.
Acronis was attempting to position his sword so that the hilt rested against the wall and the point pressed into his breast. Once he had the weapon set, all he had to do was lunge forward to drive the blade into his chest.
“Would you shame her?” Skylan asked.
Acronis jerked. The sword slipped. He caught it as it fell.
“Get out,” he said harshly. “Or better yet, hold this damn sword. You don’t have to do anything. Just stand there—”
“I don’t have to do that much,” said Skylan. “Six men with six swords are coming to kill you right now. And if you survive them, you can always die fighting the army of ogres that is about to descend on your city. At least if you are murdered, your daughter would not be ashamed to know that her father is a craven coward.”
“Ogres,” said Acronis in astonishment.
“And assassins,” Skylan reminded him.
Acronis waved that aside.
“The ogre fleet has been sighted?”
“Yes, Legate. Where is Zahakis?”
Acronis shook his head. “I sent him away—”
A bellowing shout thundered through the villa. The shout was accompanied by the clash of arms and more shouting. Zahakis was yelling a warning to the Legate.
“I think we’ve found Zahakis,” said Skylan. “Or rather, your assassins have found him.”
Acronis stood with his sword in his hand staring at it as though he was not quite certain what it was.
“Zahakis is a good warrior,” said Skylan. “But he can’t stand against six men alone.”
Acronis’s gaze shifted to the still figure on the bed.
“I can’t leave her,” he said.
“I will stay with your daughter,” said Semelon.
Skylan turned, startled to see the priestess standing in the doorway. Aylaen came running up behind her, panting, “I tried to stop her—”
“Go help Keeper with the horses,” Skylan ordered. “And find Wulfe. We can’t have him running loose!”
Aylaen hesitated a moment, then ran off.
Semelon walked inside the room and looked down on the bed. She smoothed back the hair from the girl’s cold, pale brow. “I see her spirit in a great hall filled with light and laughter and music. Somewhere, she is dancing.”
Acronis and Skylan looked at each other in astonishment. But there was no time for wonder, or even for Skylan to thank Torval. The sounds of battle were growing louder. Zahakis continued to shout. Acronis bent to kiss his daughter.
“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I will not shame you.”
He flung open the door and ran out into the hallway, heading for the sound of clashing swords. Acronis looked extremely startled to find Skylan running alongside him.
“This isn’t your fight,” said Acronis as they ran down first one hall, then another. Moonlight streamed through the windows.
“Oddly enough, it is,” said Skylan, making a hasty sidestep to avoid falling in the fish pond.
The clashing steel, more shouts, and a low, gurgling scream ended further talk. Acronis slowed his pace. He raised his hand, cautioning Skylan to keep to the shadows and move silently.
The door to the villa stood wide open. Steel blades flashed in the moonlight. Zahakis stood with his back braced against the wall, swinging his sword slowly back and forth, the tip shifting from one to another of his foes, who were ranged around him.
The marble floor was slippery with blood and gore. The screaming was coming from a man writhing on the floor trying desperately to keep his bowels from spilling out of his gut. He was the only man down, though not the only man wounded. One assassin had blood streaming down his face; another was limping from a slash mark in his thigh.
The five guards still standing exchanged glances. They were going to rush Zahakis. Skylan gave a shout to draw their attention and ran into the entryway with Acronis at his side. The two converged on the guardsmen, who were thrown into confusion by their new foes threatening death from behind.
One slipped in the blood and went down. Skylan kicked him in the head and drove his sword into the unprotected armpit of another. Skylan jerked his blade free and whipped around, sword raised, to discover that the fight was over. Three lay dead or dying. The other two were running for their lives.
Skylan pictured this cowardly lot facing seasoned ogre warriors. No wonder the Priest-General wanted Treia to summon a dragon to do his fighting for him!
“Are you all right, Legate?” Zahakis asked.
“Yes, thanks to you. And our pradus.” Acronis smiled at Skylan. “I would grant you freedom in return for saving my life, young man, but you appear to already have it.”
He paused, rubbed his eyes, and said softly, “The night seems a terrible dream. Did you tell me something about ogres invading our city?”
“What’s this about ogres?” Zahakis asked, alarmed.
“The fleet has been sighted,” said Skylan. “They may already be sailing into the bay.”
“Legate,” said Zahakis urgently, “you and I should go—”
“And do what, Tribune?” Acronis asked with a weary shrug. “The triremes are in the boat houses, being overhauled. They could never be made ready to go to sea in time. And even if they could, it would take days to round up the rowers. As for your men, I doubt you could find many sober at this hour. Face it, my friend, there is nothing we can do—”
“Yes, there is,” said Skylan. “You saw the spiritbone Treia used to summon the Dragon Kahg. The Priest-General has one of these spiritbones hidden away. If we can find the spiritbone, we can save the city.”
Skylan was not lying. H
e wasn’t telling all the truth, but he trusted Torval would forgive him.
“The Bone Priestess can summon the dragon to fight for us?” said Acronis, amazed.
“But why would she?” Zahakis asked.
“Because it’s the only way to save my people as well as yours,” said Skylan. He didn’t want them thinking about this too much and finding the holes in his story. He hurried on. “We don’t have much time. The Priest-General thinks the ogres will wait for dawn to attack, but Keeper says that with the full moon to light their way, they will enter the gates as soon as their army is assembled. We need to reach the Temple grounds and gain entrace to find the spiritbone—”
“You can do that, Legate,” said Zahakis. “They will let you in without question. I’m going to defend the city. I know where to look for the men, sir. And there are the street gangs. Most of them are better armed than our soldiers and they know how to fight.”
“A good plan,” said Acronis. “Go carry it out.”
Zahakis saluted and started off.
“One more thing—” Acronis called after him.
“Sir?” Zahakis turned.
“I have named you my heir,” said Acronis. “All this is yours.”
Zahakis stared, dumbfounded. Then he shook his head. “No, sir. It’s not right—”
Acronis turned and strode off, not looking behind him. Skylan was left with Zahakis, who was still staring after Acronis.
Zahakis roused himself. “Take care of the Legate. He means to get himself killed this night.”
“We’ll be lucky if any of us survive,” said Skylan. The two walked out the door together.
Zahakis clapped Skylan on the shoulder. “Good fortune to you and those barbaric gods of yours.”
“I still plan to kill you myself someday,” Skylan said, grinning. “Don’t let the ogres rob me of my victory.”
Zahakis smiled and shook his head. Mounting one of the horses abandoned by the guards, he wheeled it around and galloped off.
Skylan had told Keeper to bring the horses around to the front. They should be here by now. Just as he was thinking he should go find them, he heard hoofbeats outside the entrance to the villa.
Keeper was seated on an enormous draft horse, and led another horse for Skylan. Aylaen rode at the ogre’s side wearing the armor of one of Acronis’s soldiers. Her face was concealed by the wings of the helm that fit closely to her cheeks. Hinged plates fit over her shoulders and her chest. The leather skirt with metal strips was too big and sagged at the waist. She wore braces on her arms and greaves on her shins. An ecstatic Wulfe rode behind her, his arms around her.
Keeper tossed a bundle to Skylan. It landed at his feet with a clanking sound. He ripped it open and began putting on the segmented armor, the leather skirt, and the winged helm. His hands were shaking with nervous excitement. Keeper dismounted and came to his aid.
“The Legate has agreed to help us,” Skylan said as Keeper assisted him with the armor.
“You are putting a lot of trust in a man who enslaved us,” Aylaen said, frowning.
“He is a man of his word,” said Skylan. “And he has no love for Aelon.”
Skylan mounted the horse. He looked around the villa, the grounds, the hills that fell away from him leading down to the river, and far beyond that, the sea. He stared intently at the bay, trying to see the ogre fleet. All he could see was a flat surface silvered in the moonlight. The ogre ships would look like black bugs crawling over the water. No sign of them yet. He could see the watchtowers silhouetted against the water.
Would the men in those towers light signal fires when the ships were sighted? Send swift runners to the palace? Whatever they did, it wouldn’t matter. The Sinarians had been caught sleeping—literally.
I will never see this place again, Skylan thought. I was brought here in chains, a slave. And now I might die trying to save the very people who enslaved me.
Acronis came out of the villa, resplendent in his ceremonial armor. He wore the purple cape of a Legate thrown over his shoulder, his sword at his side. He was about to mount the horse of one of the men who had tried to kill him when he saw Keeper. Acronis blinked at him in astonishment.
“What are you doing here?”
“I am sorry for your loss, Legate,” said Keeper. “I fear many more children will die this night unless we can stop this madness.”
“Yes,” said Acronis quietly. “You are right.”
He motioned for his “escort” to fall in behind him. They kicked their heels into their horses’ flanks and galloped down the highway.
They had not ridden far, however, when Aylaen reined in her horse.
“Skylan!” she cried. “Look! Look at our ship!”
At first Skylan could see nothing out of the ordinary. The Venjekar floated on an ocean of silvery grass that rippled in the wind, mocking the waves on which the ship should have been riding. Skylan fondly traced the ship’s graceful lines, from the stern to the curve of the neck, the dragon’s proud head, the burning red eyes.
Eyes that glared triumphantly.
“Kahg has come back!” Skylan breathed.
“Has he?” Wulfe asked eagerly, and he raised himself up on the horse’s rump to see. The next moment, he burst into tears and buried his face in his hands. The moment after that, he began fumbling beneath his shirt.
“Here! Take it!” he cried.
He pulled out the spiritbone and, still blubbering, thrust it into Aylaen’s hands.
She stared at it, then shook her head. “The dragon brought this to you, Wulfe.”
“Kahg wants you to have it,” said Wulfe. “I was only keeping it safe.”
“You must keep it safe for a little longer,” Aylaen told him. “Take it back to the ship. Tell Sigurd you found it.”
“Sigurd hates me,” said Wulfe.
“If you show him the spiritbone, he will love you like a son,” Skylan said. He added, more seriously, “I’m trusting you with this, Wulfe. We need the dragon to escape.”
“You’re trusting me,” Wulfe said. Tears flooded his cheeks. He blinked his eyes furiously and slid off the back of the horse. He clutched the spiritbone in a grimy hand. “No ogre will get this. I promise.”
He ran off down the hill, yelling over his shoulder, “If one tries, I’ll rip out his throat!”
Skylan and Aylaen sat on their horses, watching Wulfe bound on all fours through the grass.
“Do you think the Dragon Kahg brought us to this place?” Aylaen asked softly.
Skylan would have liked to say yes, to blame this fate on someone else: dragon, gods. But he had promised Torval there would be no more lies.
“My folly brought us here,” said Skylan. He smiled reassuringly at her and added, “But the dragon can damn well get us home!”
They rode off. If they had waited a moment longer, they would have seen the first ships of the ogre fleet sail into the harbor. The city of Sinaria now lay dreaming, but she would soon wake to a nightmare.
CHAPTER
14
* * *
BOOK THREE
Acronis wended his way confidently through the maze of streets in which Skylan would have soon been hopelessly lost. A few carts and wagons were out making their nightly deliveries. Men had no need for torches; the bright moon reflecting off the white pavement outshone the light of Aelon that beamed from the dome of his shrine. Skylan thought once he caught sight of Zahakis entering a tavern, but they rode past too quickly for him to tell for certain. He forgot about Zahakis and concentrated on his own problems, which were numerous enough. Skylan had to talk to his dead friend.
As for Zahakis, he was going from tavern to tavern, spreading the news of the invasion and rounding up his men. He sent some home to fetch weapons and armor and to warn their families. Others had their weapons with them, and they swarmed out into the streets, commandeering the wagons and carts, turning them over in the street, and using them to form barricades. That would not stop the rampaging ogres,
but might at least slow them down.
Zahakis warned the gang bosses, who left their haunts to man the barricades. While these preparations were under way, people began to shout and point. Those who had taken to the rooftops could see the flames of a signal fire blazing on one of the watchtowers.
Neighbor carried word to neighbor, pounding on doors and yelling underneath windows. Now the wails of children yanked from their warm beds blended with the sounds of pounding feet and shouted commands.
“If the ogres think they are going to be attacking a sleeping city,” Zahakis said to himself with a grim smile, “they are going to be in for a rude awakening.”
Far from the city, away from the commotion and the cries of children and the tramping of booted feet, the Temple of Aelon blazed with light. Warrior-priests and Temple guards had heard the calls of the Watchers and were reporting for duty, some of them struggling to put on their armor as they ran.
Priestesses, clutching their nightclothes around them, were being herded into the Temple where they were assured that Aelon would keep them safe. No one knew for certain what was going on. Terrible rumors flew about. But as terrible as the rumors were, they were not as terrible as the truth.
Raegar and Treia hastened toward the Shrine, where the warrior-priests and Temple guards were gathering. The place was in turmoil with men shouting orders and everyone running around in confusion. Raegar used his great height to see over the sea of heads in an effort to locate the Priest-General. Unable to find him, Raegar began to shove and bully his way through the crowd. He kept fast hold of Treia so that they would not be separated.
Guards stood before the doors leading to the inner offices. Raegar stated curtly that he had an urgent message for the Priest-General. The guard opened the door. Keeping a firm grip on Treia, Raegar entered. The guard shut the door behind them and they were suddenly engulfed in silence. The Watchers knelt before their bowls of fire and water, sending and receiving information. Sometimes one would rise to his feet and glide out, bearing news or asking for instruction.
Secret of the Dragon Page 38
