Secret of the Dragon Page 10

  Remembering the moment he summoned the seagulls and how Raegar had struck him across the face and knocked him unconscious, he really, really wanted to see Raegar dead. Wulfe knew he had to give the problem of stealing the key his full attention.

  ______

  Raegar came aboard late in the afternoon. Skylan had wondered if he was going to swim, but the war galley hoisted out a plank meant for boarding enemy ships, and when the Venjekar sailed near, they lowered the plank onto the deck. The sea was calm. Raegar crossed without incident and was greeted formally by Zahakis and loudly and obscenely by the Torgun. Raegar made a point of asking about Treia and Aylaen and was assured they were well. He said he needed to speak to them and he went down into the hold.

  Skylan had not seen Aylaen all the time they had been at sea. Treia came up sometimes for air, but Aylaen remained below. Skylan knew she was grieving for Garn. He, too, was still grieving the loss of his friend, and he wished he could comfort her and find comfort in talking about their friend. It seemed to Skylan that he and Aylaen were the only two who mourned Garn’s loss. Bjorn and Erdmun had both been Garn’s friends. They were sorry he was dead, but his passing had not left an empty feeling in their chests as it did for Skylan. Sometimes it seemed as painful to Skylan as if he had been pierced by a spear.

  More painful, he reflected, for a wound will heal and be forgotten, but the pain of loss and the anguish of knowing that Garn’s death was my fault will be with me for the rest of my life.

  Then Wulfe came sidling up to him and Skylan had to quit thinking about the dead and turn his thoughts to the living.

  “Don’t go to sleep tonight,” Wulfe said softly.

  And before Skylan could ask Wulfe what he was going to do, the boy ran off.

  Zahakis sometimes steered the ship himself at night to allow Skylan to rest. Zahakis would chain Skylan to the bulkhead near his fellow Torgun, who greeted him with sullen looks or paid no attention to him at all.

  That night, as Skylan lay down beside Sigurd, he whispered, “Stay awake. Tell the others.”

  Sigurd’s dark eyes flashed. He nodded and, rolling over, whispered to Bjorn, “Stay awake. Pass the word.”

  Night fell as the god, Skoval, took over rulership of the world. The full moon rose. The tops of the waves were gilded with molten silver. Raegar emerged from the hold. His face was dark. He was upset about something.

  Two soldiers were on duty guarding the prisoners. Another was at the tiller and the others were playing the usual game of stone-guessing. Zahakis stood near the rail in the stern, gazing out at the moonlit ripples. Wulfe was nowhere in sight.

  Raegar joined Zahakis at the rail.

  “I still do not approve of this fight,” Raegar announced.

  “I am sorry you feel this way,” said Zahakis in a tone that meant exactly the opposite. “Did you inform the Legate?”

  “I did,” said Raegar, frowning. “He knows that these two brutes are fighting for the favor of their heathen god. Indulging them in this barbaric ritual only encourages them to believe in gods who are dead.”

  “I take it the Legate was still not impressed with your argument,” Zahakis said.

  “He was not,” said Raegar angrily. “Acronis said the soldiers were bored and that this would provide some amusement and break up the routine. I have spoken to the Bone Priestesses, however,” he added stiffly. “Neither of them will take part.”

  “As I understand it, the priestess is important to the spectacle. Perhaps they will attend if I ask them nicely,” said Zahakis with a half smile.

  Raegar sucked in an irate breath, but Zahakis walked off, not waiting to hear what the priest had to say. Raegar muttered something, then stalked over to where the soldiers, who had been listening to this exchange with interest, hurriedly returned to their game.

  “Gambling is illegal!” Raegar said. “Go to your beds.”

  The soldiers glanced at Zahakis, who gave a slight nod, and the men, grumbling, did as they were ordered.

  The Venjekar glided over the silver waves.

  Skylan was sleepy and he wished irritably that whatever Wulfe was going to do, he’d go ahead and do it. He was just thinking this and wondering what Wulfe had in mind, when Zahakis gave a yell and sprang back from the rail, shaking his left hand frantically.

  His startled cry woke everyone. Soldiers fumbled for weapons. The Torgun sat up, staring at Zahakis, who appeared to be wrestling with something that glimmered white in the moonlight.

  Bjorn suddenly began to laugh. “It’s a jellyfish!”

  The sea creature’s poisonous tentacles wound tightly around the commander’s hand. The soldiers hastened to his aid, though when they reached him, none of them had any idea what to do. No one wanted to grab the thing. Swearing and yelling in pain, Zahakis at last managed to shake the jellyfish loose. It landed on the deck with a soggy plop.

  Zahakis wrung his hand and continued to swear. Skylan had been stung by jellyfish before, like hot needles being jabbed into the skin.

  Zahakis’s hand was starting to swell from the poison. He grabbed hold of the key ring and yanked it off and flung it to the deck. Then he doubled over, cradling his hand and groaning.

  His soldiers gathered around him, all of them offering advice on what to do. One of the men kicked at something at his feet and Skylan saw Wulfe, crawling about on the deck. The soldiers swore at him and told him to get out of the way. Wulfe scuttled off, carrying something wrapped in a bit of cloth, which he dropped in Skylan’s lap.

  Skylan rolled over to hide his movements and unwrapped the cloth to find the key ring inside. He was about to slide the key stealthily to Sigurd with orders to unlock his leg irons, when a shadow blotted out the moonlight. Skylan glanced up to find Raegar looming over him. Skylan hurriedly slid the key onto his thumb and closed his fist over it.

  But Raegar was not interested in Skylan. He was after other prey. Reaching down, Raegar seized Wulfe by the hair and yanked him to his feet.

  “Here is the culprit!” Raegar cried. “He did this to you, Tribune!”

  “Did what?” Zahakis asked irritably.

  “He sent the jellyfish to attack you,” Raegar said balefully.

  The soldiers began to roar with laughter. Zahakis’s mouth twitched.

  “Let the kid go, Raegar—”

  “Since when have you seen jellyfish fly?” Raegar demanded angrily. “The boy is evil, I tell you. He must die! Aelon commands it!”

  Lifting Wulfe off his feet, Raegar flung him headlong into the sea.

  The boy landed with a splash and a shriek and immediately sank. For a moment everyone stood staring stupidly at the waves, unable to believe what they’d seen. Then suddenly everyone was shouting and moving at once.

  Skylan jumped to his feet, forgetting in his fear for Wulfe that his legs were chained. He tripped and crashed headlong to the deck. Several soldiers ran to the side, searching for the boy. Wulfe came bobbing back to the surface, his arms flailing. The soldiers yelled and pointed.

  Wulfe sank again. Zahakis shouted for one of the men to dive in after the boy when, without warning, an immense wave reared up from a calm sea. The wave rose higher and higher, until it hung poised over the Venjekar like a hand ready to smack a fly, then crashed over the bow.

  The Venjekar heeled. Men grabbed anything they could find to keep from being washed overboard. The deck canted. Skylan clung desperately to his chains and stared in astonishment to see Wulfe rush past him in a great gush of seawater. The boy fetched up against a sea chest and lay on the deck, coughing and spitting up water.

  The sea calmed instantly, but it was a sullen calm that sent waves slapping against the sides of the hull. Zahakis knelt beside Wulfe, pounding him on the back and asking him if he was all right.

  Skylan had thought he’d seen faces in the wave, faces of beautiful women, beautiful enraged women with sea-foam hair. He didn’t have time to think whether he believed what he’d seen or not. The angry soldiers crowded around Zahak
is, urging him to let them toss Raegar overboard. Skylan crawled over to Sigurd and handed him the key.

  “Tell the others to unlock the manacles and then pretend they’re still locked. Not you,” he added, reaching down his hand to prevent Sigurd from unlocking his own manacles.

  Sigurd looked at him, frowning.

  “We’re going to fight tomorrow,” said Skylan. “How will it look if Zahakis comes to unlock our manacles and finds them already unlocked?”

  Sigurd took a moment to think this over, then gave a nod and handed the key to Bjorn, whispering instructions. Bjorn swiftly unlocked his manacles and passed the key to Erdmun. The key traveled down the row of warriors. A few fumbled with it, trying to find the keyhole. The sound of the key scratching against the metal seemed loud enough to be heard back in Vindraholm, and Skylan winced, certain that the soldiers must hear it, too.

  None of them were paying any attention, however. Zahakis had quieted their fury, and ordered them to wring out their clothes and spread their bedding to dry and assemble their gear, which was strewn all over the deck.

  Zahakis, his face grim, walked over to confront Raegar. “You are lucky I don’t do what the men want and throw you overboard.”

  Raegar began to sputter. “First the jellyfish, then the wave. This was all the boy’s doing.”

  Zahakis walked off.

  “Let him live and you will be sorry!” Raegar called after him.

  Zahakis said something Skylan couldn’t hear. Another wave slapped the ship. Raegar went to the hold, lifted the hatch, and stomped down the stairs. Zahakis came over to stand in front of Skylan, who tensed, acutely aware of the key making its way down the line. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Grimuir palm the key and keep still.

  Skylan grinned up at him.

  “I’ve heard that urine causes the pain of the jellyfish sting to ease. I would be glad to piss on you, Tribune.”

  Zahakis shook his head and muttered something and continued on his way.

  He has forgotten the key, but he will recall it soon enough, Skylan thought, and he looked down the line.

  Grimuir was busily unlocking his fetters. He handed the key to the warrior next to him. Wulfe was waiting next to Aki, the last man in the line. When Aki had freed himself, he gave the key to Wulfe.

  The boy jumped to his feet and ran off, dropping the key quietly on the deck, not far from where Zahakis had been standing when he flung it off. Sometime later, one of the soldiers stepped on it and took it back to Zahakis. Skylan breathed a sigh in relief. So far, so good.

  The soldiers were wiping the saltwater off their swords and polishing their armor to make certain they didn’t rust. Zahakis filled a helm with seawater and was soaking his hand. The Torgun pretended to sleep.

  Wulfe lay down beside Skylan. “My blanket’s wet,” he grumbled.

  “Stop complaining. You’re lucky you’re alive,” said Skylan.

  “Not lucky,” said Wulfe. “The oceanaids saved me.”

  Skylan remembered the faces in the wave. He eyed Wulfe. “How did that jellyfish get on board?”

  “It was funny, wasn’t it?” Wulfe said. “Watching Zahakis jump up and down and shake his hand, trying to get it to let go.”

  “Wulfe—”

  “I’m sleepy,” he said, and he curled up in a ball and pressed his back to Skylan for warmth.

  Sigurd dug his elbow into Skylan’s ribs.

  “Whoever draws first blood is chief. You agreed to that. You swore by Torval.”

  Skylan didn’t answer.

  CHAPTER

  10

  * * *

  BOOK ONE

  The day of the Vutmana dawned bright and clear, cool and cloudless. Skylan took the sunshine for a good omen; Aylis was smiling on them. The sea was flat, no wind at all. The ships would have had to use rowers, but the Legate had declared today a holiday. The Light of the Sea and the Venjekar bobbed gently up and down on the smooth water. The sailors lowered the gangplank, and Acronis, accompanied by his bodyguards and a servant carrying a collapsible stool, crossed from the galley to the Venjekar. The crew of the Light of the Sea, including the rowers, gathered on the deck to watch the spectacle of the barbarians fighting each other.

  “What happened to your hand?” asked Acronis, noting the red weals on the Tribune’s fingers, palm, and wrist.

  Zahakis described the night’s events.

  “How very odd,” said Acronis. “Raegar flings the boy into the sea and the sea flings the boy back.”

  “So it would seem, my lord,” said Zahakis.

  Acronis glanced at the soldiers. “How did the men react?”

  “Raegar tried to drown the boy, sir. The troops didn’t like it.”

  “The same soldiers who would think nothing of butchering this boy if they came across him while sacking his city are upset when a priest tries to drown him,” said Acronis. He shook his head.

  “It is one thing to kill in the heat of battle, my lord, and another to watch a man throw a helpless child into the sea,” said Zahakis, mildly reproving.

  Acronis frowned. “Yes, well, I can’t say I blame them.” He drew in a deep breath of the sea air, glad to change the subject. “Are the barbarians prepared for the fight? Raegar does not approve of this, you know.”

  “Raegar’s not having a good voyage, my lord,” said Zahakis with a smile. “All is in readiness. The men have their orders.”

  “Very well,” said Acronis. “Let whatever this is called begin.”

  Down in the hold, Raegar paced the small area, a difficult feat for a man of his height. He had to keep his head bowed and shoulders hunched. Aylaen would have ignored him, as usual, but she was curious to know what had happened last night. All the women knew was that there had been yelling and shouting and the ship had heeled violently, sending them both careening across the deck of the hold. Then the ship had righted itself and all had been quiet and the women had no idea what had happened.

  Aylaen was angry at herself for being curious, for wanting to know what had happened. Garn was dead. She shouldn’t be taking an interest in life. Yet she had to hide a smile when she heard Raegar claim that Wulfe had caused a jellyfish to leap on board the ship and attack Zahakis. Apparently she didn’t hide it well, because Treia cast her a rebuking glance.

  “The boy is a danger,” Raegar continued. “I have tried to warn these fools, but they won’t listen. Aelon commanded that I take action. I threw the boy in the sea—”

  “You did what?” Aylaen cried in shock.

  “Quite right,” said Treia severely.

  “Sister, how can you say that? Wulfe was just a boy and this man murdered him!”

  “He is not dead,” Raegar said. “His daemon friends saved him. A wave threw him back on board.”

  Aylaen opened her mouth to point out that this was ridiculous. Treia frowned at her, and Aylaen kept silent. Her sister was happy again. Raegar had forgiven Treia for the failure with the dragon and had once more deigned to honor her with his attentions. Aylaen might have been pleased about this for Treia’s sake, but she had noticed that Raegar was starting to favor her with his attentions, as well. He had said nothing, but she didn’t like the way he kept looking at her.

  “So are Sigurd and Skylan going to go ahead with this supposed Vutmana?” Treia was asking. “Why would the Legate permit it?”

  “The soldiers want amusement,” Raegar stated sourly. “They need a Bone Priestess, however. I told the Legate that neither of you will have anything to do with it.”

  “I might,” said Aylaen, just to be contrary and annoy Raegar.

  Treia cast her a shocked glance. “You will do no such thing. I forbid it.”

  “You might get hurt,” said Raegar in solicitous tones that made Aylaen’s skin crawl.

  “How could I possibly get hurt?” she asked tartly.

  Treia and Raegar exchanged glances.

  “It is all a plot by Skylan to escape.”

  “It is?” Aylaen stared at
him.

  “Of course!” said Raegar dismissively.

  “But why would the Legate let them fight, then?”

  “Acronis is not stupid. He has taken precautions.”

  “But don’t you want to escape?” Aylaen asked Treia. “Don’t you want to go back home?”

  She saw Treia gazing up at Raegar with adoration and knew the answer.

  A wave of homesickness swept over Aylaen. She longed for her mother, who had not wanted her to go on this voyage, who had wept and pleaded with her to remain. She longed to be back in the fields where she and Garn had worked, to sit in the grove where they made love in the afternoon. She dreaded the thought of being a slave, dreaded what horrors the future might hold. Her heart leaped at the idea that they might have a chance for freedom. She hated Skylan, but she never doubted his courage and resolve. She wondered suddenly if the strange events of last night were a part of Skylan’s plan.

  Aylaen glanced sidelong at Raegar, who was sitting beside Treia, airing his grievances to an appreciative audience. Seeing that he was, for the moment, not paying any attention to her, Aylaen slid the small knife out of her boot and swiftly thrust it into the leather belt she wore and arranged the folds of the tunic she wore over it, making certain that it was well concealed.

  “You have not found the spiritbone?” Raegar was asking her sister.

  “No,” said Treia, and she shrugged. “I doubt if we will ever find it. The Dragon Kahg has abandoned us.”

  Raegar nodded in satisfaction. “That means your gods have given up.”

  A soldier shouted down into the hold. “Warrior-Priest Raegar, you and the women are wanted on deck.”

  Raegar assisted Treia to climb the ladder. He turned to assist Aylaen, but she drew back from his touch. He gave her a smile and shrugged and followed Treia. Aylaen came last, feeling the cold steel of the knife in her belt.

  Our gods won’t give up, she thought. And neither will we.