Rage of the Dragon

CHAPTER 5

A hand touched Skylan’s forehead. The touch was icy cold and he shivered in remembrance and woke with a start.

“Vindrash, answer me!” he cried, sitting bolt upright.

He saw mists swirling in gray light and felt a drop of cold water hitting him on the head. He looked up to see the Dragon Kahg glaring down, red eyes shimmering in the fog. Another drop hit Skylan, this time on the nose.

Night’s darkness was gone. The sun had risen, seemingly, though the Sun Goddess, Aylis, remained hidden beneath a blanket of fog. Angry at himself for having fallen asleep on watch, Skylan was about to push himself to his feet when he felt something hit the Venjekar and saw the prow of an ogre ship loom out of the fog and bump gently into the Venjekar’s hull.

Skylan froze. His first impulse was to shout the alarm. He hesitated, waiting to see what happened.

Nothing happened. No ogre watchman shouted a warning. No ogre godlord came running to see what was going on. The ogre ship rubbed up against the Venjekar like an affectionate cat.

Thinking that perhaps the ogres had all fallen asleep, just as he and his men had fallen asleep, Skylan slowly stood up, trying to move as silently as possible. The segmented, metal Sinarian armor rattled and clashed. Gritting his teeth at the noise that was as loud as a thunder strike in his ears, he tried to steal quietly across the deck to wake his men one by one.

Sigurd and Grimuir and Bjorn woke instantly, needing only a few words to understand the situation. Erdmun shrugged him off and tried to go back to sleep. His brother kicked him. Farinn jumped and stared at him in confusion. Acronis had awakened at the sound of Skylan moving about and had already drawn his sword. Wulfe, panic-stricken at the sight of the weapons, was shaking Aylaen. She rubbed her eyes and gazed blearily at him.

Skylan put his lips to her ear to whisper, “Ogre ship. Off the bow.”

Aylaen could see for herself. She tried to stand. Skylan took hold of her hands to help her. Her fingers were cold and he clasped her hands fast, trying to warm them. Their eyes met and held for a moment until she lowered her eyes in confusion and drew back.

“You should go into the hold,” said Skylan softly without thinking. He couldn’t think, not when he could still feel her touch. “Take Wulfe with you.”

“And get us murdered!” the boy cried shrilly. “Treia’s down there!”

The men rounded angrily, glaring at Wulfe for talking so loudly. Aylaen swiftly muzzled him, clapping her hand over his mouth.

“I won’t hide in the hold!” Aylaen whispered stiffly, not looking at Skylan. “You said I was a warrior, like the others.”

He hesitated, trying to think of something to say to make up for his blunder.

“Skylan!” Sigurd hissed. “Get your butt over here!”

“You better go,” said Aylaen in hushed frozen tones.

Skylan left, cursing his clumsy tongue, wondering why he always managed to say the wrong thing when he spoke to her.

“Any sign of ogres?” he asked.

Sigurd shook his head. “Damn strange, if you ask me. And take a look at this ship.”

The ogre ship was larger than the Venjekar, more massive. Vindrasi dragonships were sleek, lightweight, designed for speed. Ogres ships were designed to carry ogres, a single one of whom weighed as much as two or three full grown human men. Ogres were not known for their seamanship, nor for their shipbuilding. Looking at the hull of the huge ship wallowing sluggishly in the water, Skylan wondered how it had managed to survive the long voyage from the ogre kingdom to Sinaria. The hull was covered with what looked like runes that had been burned into the wood. Perhaps the Gods of Raj had used their magic to keep it afloat.

The ship was much taller than the Venjekar, which sat low in the water. Skylan could not see the deck from this vantage point. He caught a glimpse of the tip of the boom in the swirling fog and then it vanished.

“I don’t think anyone’s on board,” said Bjorn.

“Anyone alive,” Wulfe said ominously.

The Torgun were nervous. Given a choice, they would be much happier fighting for their lives against an army of ogres. None of them wanted anything to do with a ship sailing the seas without a crew.

Skylan didn’t like this any better than his men. He could still feel the touch of the goddess, hear her voice. He remembered walking across that cold battlefield, the smell of smoke in his nose, the bodies of the little children …

“Shove the accursed thing off!” said Sigurd, picking up an oar.

“No, don’t,” said Skylan. “I’m going on board. Who’s coming with me?”

Sigurd muttered something unintelligible and spit in the water.

“The bastards could be hiding, ready to ambush us,” Grimuir pointed out.

“We’d smell their stench,” said Skylan.

“I can’t smell myself in this damn fog,” said Erdmun.

“I can smell you,” said Skylan, grinning.

Some of the men chuckled nervously at this. Sigurd grunted and shook his head, unamused.

“I’ll come with you,” Acronis offered. He added with a smile, “I have never been aboard a ghost ship.”

If he meant that as a jest, no one laughed.

Thick lengths of rope hanging from the ship’s bow trailed in the water. Skylan took hold of one of the ropes and pulled himself up, hand-over-hand, until he reached the upper deck.

Hidden in the eerie fog, he peeped over the rail before boarding the ship. The deck was empty, at least as far as he could see in the mist. Cautiously, he swung himself up and over the rail and landed on the deck, sword in hand. He roamed the ship, went down into the hold, and came back up on deck.

He was the only living being on board.

The fact did not bring him much comfort. If no one was alive, who had been sailing the ship?

He went back to the rail to hail the Venjekar and realized with a start the fog was lifting. He could see his ship. He was almost eye-to-eye with the Dragon Kahg. Below him he could see everyone gathered on the deck. Aylis, the sun goddess, was burning away Torval’s miracle. They didn’t have much time.

Skylan reached out a hand to assist Acronis, only to find Acronis did not need help. He climbed up the rope almost as nimbly as had Skylan.

“Not bad for an old man, eh?” Acronis said, guessing what Skylan was thinking. “Zahakis insisted that I keep in training. He used to say, ‘I will not serve a man who cannot see his feet past his belly.’”

“There is no one aboard, Legate. No bodies, no blood. What do you think happened to the ogres?”

Acronis walked the deck, gazed around. “They weighed the anchor and sailed off in haste. The lines we climbed had been tied to the pier. The ogres cut them and fled, leaving the ropes to drag in the water.”

“Ogres are bad sailors,” said Skylan.

“Not that bad,” said Acronis dryly. “Look here. And here. And here.” He pointed to parts of the bulkhead that were charred black. “I think this ship was attacked by that dragon. What did you call it?”

“Vektia dragon, sir,” said Skylan grimly.

“The ogres were terrified and jumped overboard.”

“Then they jumped to their deaths,” Skylan said. “Ogres sink like rocks.”

“True,” said Acronis, adding quietly, “Given a choice between the dragon and drowning, they chose drowning.”

“But then who was sailing this ship?” Skylan asked.

Acronis smiled, amused. “Ghost ships are a myth.”

“You are a wise man, but I know better, sir,” said Skylan. “I once sailed on a ghost ship.”

“You must tell me that tale sometime,” said Acronis with interest. “As to how the ship came to be here, that is no great mystery. The wind and the waves carried the ship farther out to sea.”

Skylan thought this over, then realized he already knew who was sailing this ship. The same god who had sailed the ghost ship on which he had sailed. He stood for a moment, saying a silent prayer, then climbed back down the rope to the Venjekar to explain his plan to his people.

Before he had even finished, Sigurd had decided it wouldn’t work.

“We won’t fool anyone, Skylan.” Sigurd snorted. “We can’t make ourselves look like ogres.”

“You don’t have to look like ogres,” said Skylan patiently. “With the help of the gods, by the time this fog lifts, you will be far enough away from their fleet that no one will be able to see you.”

“We’ll be sailing in a different direction from the rest of the ogre fleet,” Grimuir argued, siding with his friend as usual. “The ogres will be suspicious and come after us.”

Skylan sucked in a seething breath and clenched his fists, ready to give up trying to reason and start banging heads. Before he could say the words that would probably start a fight, Aylaen came forward. Up until now, she had remained silent.

“The ogres have suffered a great defeat in Sinaria. They have paid dearly for their attack on the city,” she said. “The Vektia dragon killed many of them and now they are like us-weary and wounded. They want only to go back to their homes.”

“She speaks wisely,” said Acronis. “It is every man for himself as far as they are concerned. No ogre godlord would risk his ship to help another or chase after some foe.”

“This is a god-given opportunity,” said Skylan. “Vindrash has sent this ship to us so that you can carry the warning to our people.”

“About a dream,” Sigurd said, shaking his head.

“I saw the body of your wife, Sigurd,” said Skylan. “I saw your sons lying dead, your woman with her head cleaved open. I saw your house, Grimuir, a mass of charred rubble. I saw the Chief’s Hall ablaze. I saw it as I see all of you. Aelon’s ships took the Torgun by surprise. Our people must be warned that war is coming.”

Sigurd eyed him. “You keep saying ‘you,’ not ‘we.’ What do you plan to do?”

“I am staying with the Venjekar,” said Skylan. “When we embarked on this voyage, before we were captured by Raegar, our plan was to sail to Grafdongar, to take back the Vektan Torque. I will continue our voyage. Acronis has offered to sail with me. He will be my guide.”

Sigurd snorted. “The ogres will kill you both and seize our ship.”

“The Dragon Kahg will sail the ship and keep it from falling into the wrong hands.” Skylan shrugged. “If we are killed, the dragon will sail the ship back to our people.”

“And what do I tell your father?” Sigurd asked gruffly. “What do I say to Norgaard when he wants to know why I sailed safely home and left his son behind to die?”

Skylan smiled. “You will tell my father that my wyrd is bound up in the Venjekar. My destiny lies with my ship. He will understand.”

Skylan rested his hand on the older man’s shoulders. “Go back to your boys, Sigurd. Take the other men home to their families. Send swift riders to the Chiefs, warning them to gather the clans for war.”

Sigurd smiled briefly at the mention of his sons. He had once, in a rare moment of camaraderie, confided to Skylan how much he missed them. But he seemed still inclined to argue.

“Sigurd, we don’t have much time-” Skylan began.

“We stand together,” said Sigurd abruptly. “That is what you said and you were right, Skylan. We’ve come this far because we stayed together.”

“We always will be together,” said Skylan. “Even when we are apart.”

He looked around at all the Torgun, at Grimuir and Sigurd, young Farinn, Bjorn and Erdmun, and Aylaen.

“We are bound by the secret of the Five Vektia dragons. All of you know this secret. Take this knowledge back to our people. If the Dragon Kahg returns home without me, you and the rest of the Vindrasi must continue the quest, find the Five, and bring them together.”

“If you are certain…” said Sigurd.

“Vindrash sent us this ship,” said Skylan. “It is a sign.”

“So be it,” said Sigurd. Then he asked the question that had been on everyone’s mind, though no one had mentioned it. “What do we do with Treia?”

“Throw her to the sharks,” Wulfe muttered.

“They would be better off throwing you to the sharks, acursed foe,” Treia hissed. The others had been so intent on their plans, they had not heard Treia emerge from the hold. She now walked slowly across the deck. With her weak eyes, she found it difficult to see where she was going. She was shivering in her wet priestess robes-robes that reminded everyone she was a traitor, a priestess for an enemy god. She had pulled her hair back and tied it behind her head. Her face was a pinched, rigid white mask with dark holes for eyes. Skylan decided that Keeper looked more alive.

Skylan was inclined to agree with Wulfe as to what to do with her, but he couldn’t. Aylaen would never forgive him. He glanced at Aylaen, assuming she would do what she had always done in the past: support her sister. He was surprised when Aylaen did not stir. She remained standing with her hand protectively on Wulfe’s shoulder. The men were looking at Treia and shifting uncomfortably. No one knew what to say.

“You are all fools if you think Vindrash sent you a ship!” Treia gave a contemptuous snort. She pointed her bony finger. “I will tell you who sent this ship. Death sent it and that is where this ship will take you! Raegar will find you. He is out there. He will find you.”

She folded her arms across her chest and stood defiantly, gazing into the thinning mist.

Sigurd walked over to Skylan, jerked a thumb at Treia. “Well, what about her?”

“Treia stays with us,” Skylan said, knowing even as he uttered the words, he would regret it.

“Good.” Sigurd grunted. “I’d sooner set sail with a hold full of vipers.” He hesitated, then said uneasily, “You don’t believe her, do you? What she said about the ship?”

“She speaks for a god who enslaved us,” said Skylan dismissively. He grinned at Sigurd. “Are you afraid of Raegar?”

Sigurd grinned back and replied with a fairly detailed account of what Raegar could do to himself, then began shouting orders.

The Torgun set to work. Some hauled supplies from the Venjekar’s hold to the ogre ship, which Sigurd had named Torval’s Fist, for the god’s hand had swept away the ogres. Others boarded the ogre ship to try, as Sigurd said, to figure out how the damn thing worked. The Vindrasi were accustomed to their sleek, swift dragonship, with its single mast and sail and banks of oars. The ogre ship was far larger, bulky and poorly built, with an odd-looking triangular sail and a rat’s nest of rigging. The ogres had not had time to put the oars into the water before they were attacked, apparently, for the oars had not been fitted into the oarlocks. The Vindrasi stared in dismay at the gigantic oars that would take two humans to wield even one, and prayed to Torval that the wind would hold.

Skylan was about to go onto the ogre ship to help.

Aylaen blocked his way.

“You think you’re going to send me with Sigurd,” she said with a defiant toss of her head. “Well, you’re not.”

“Aylaen-” Skylan began.

“I won’t leave, Skylan,” Aylaen said. “My wyrd is also bound to the Venjekar. I’m Bone Priestess now. You need me to summon the Dragon Kahg.”

Skylan led her off to the dragonhead prow where they could speak in private.

“You must take the spiritbone of the Vektia with you, Aylaen. No, wait, listen to me,” he said, seeing her eyes flash. “You will take the spiritbone and sail with Sigurd. I will draw off Raegar. He will come after me.”

“And he will kill you!” Aylaen said. “You said yourself he has fifty warriors on his ship!”

“He has to catch me first,” said Skylan, grinning. “I travel light. His fifty warriors make for a heavy load.”

“Be serious!” Aylaen said angrily.

“I am serious, Aylaen,” said Skylan. He took hold of her hands, looked into her eyes. “Vindrash sent the ship so that you could take the spiritbone to a place of safety.”

Aylaen let him keep hold of her hands, which astonished him. “The spiritbone is safe where it is. And so am I. I already told you, my wyrd is bound with the Venjekar.”

She walked off, leaving Skylan to stare after her, his wits so much sea foam.

“She routed you, my friend-foot, horse, and chariot,” said Acronis, coming up to stand beside him. “I never saw a man lose a battle faster.”

“I should make her go,” Skylan said, frowning, though he had no idea how, short of knocking her unconscious.

Acronis clapped him on the shoulder. “Give up, Skylan. Make what terms for surrender you can and leave the field to her.”

In the end, five chose to stay with Skylan and the Venjekar.

Wulfe was one, of course. He would never leave Skylan, despite the fact that the oceanaids were adamant that something bad was going to happen. Acronis was another. He would be needed to navigate. Skylan had been hoping the others would try to persuade Aylaen to go with them, but when she told the men she would be staying with the Venjekar, they accepted her decision. She was the Bone Priestess and her place was with the Dragon Kahg. Treia was staying, because no one knew what to do with her. Farinn’s decision to stay with Skylan caused an uproar. He was the youngest. The men urged him to come.

“I order you to go,” said Skylan.

Farinn shook his head. “I can’t obey, sir. I won’t leave in the middle of my song!”

“Your song is liable to be very short and have a very bad ending,” said Skylan grimly.

Farinn flushed and shrugged. He didn’t have the courage to look at Skylan, but he wouldn’t budge either. He just kept shaking his head and at last Skylan gave up.

Within a short time, Torval’s Fist was loaded with supplies and ready to sail. The time came for farewells.

The differences, the arguments, Sigurd’s dislike of Skylan and his attempt to take over as Chief of Chiefs, Bjorn’s loyalty to Skylan in defiance of Sigurd, the fights, the rivalries and animosity that had once loomed so large seemed very small and petty now. The good-byes were brief, especially as the wind was starting to freshen, coming out of the south like a breath from the god. The breeze would carry the ship northward, toward home.

A few awkward embraces, several attempts at jests, messages to carry to loved ones, and then Sigurd and his men boarded Torval’s Fist. They spent a few tense moments trying to figure out how to steer the clumsy ogre vessel, then the triangular sail caught the wind and carried them over the gray and misty sea, into the fog, and they were gone.

Skylan stood watching until he could no longer see them. He was assailed by doubts.

In the shield wall, all the warriors stand together, shoulder to shoulder, their shields overlapping. Here he was surrounded by enemies, and he had shattered his shield wall, split his forces, sent his warriors away.

Because of a dream.

Wulfe wandered over to announce cheerfully that if the ogres killed Skylan, he, Wulfe, would change into a man-beast and rip out their throats.

“I’d rather they didn’t kill you, though,” Wulfe added after some thought.

“Me, too,” said Skylan.