Rage of the Dragon Page 20

  “I did not summon the dragon, Your Majesty,” Aylaen repeated. “I used the blessed sword of the goddess, Vindrash, to destroy it.”

  “You see, Your Majesty, she does not deny she has the artifact,” said the delegate. “These dragon bones are dangerous. This woman is dangerous, as are her heathen gods. You put your own realm at risk by allowing her to remain here. Give her and her savage men to us, Your Majesty, to be returned to Sinaria.”

  The Queen sat in silence for long moments, seeming to consider. Aylaen held her breath. She did not dare look at Skylan, but she could sense his presence, strong and reassuring, and she was comforted.

  “I need to study this matter, take it under consideration,” said Queen Magali at last. “Thank my cousin, Queen Thais of the City of the Fourth Daughter, and tell her that I will send her my answer in a fortnight.”

  “My Queen will be not be pleased with the delay,” said the delegate, glowering.

  “I am sorry to incur my cousin’s displeasure,” said Queen Magali calmly. “But if these prisoners are as dangerous as you claim, I could not in good conscience hand them over to endanger your people. My commander will escort you out,” said the Queen, nodding to Neda.

  Bowing stiffly, the delegation stalked off, accompanied by Commander Neda and her guards.

  The Queen again sat silently on her throne, absorbed in her thoughts. Her unfocused gaze found Skylan. A new thought seemed to come to her.

  She eyed him steadily and then asked, “Are you, by any chance, the one known as Torval’s Fish Knife?”

  CHAPTER

  24

  Skylan gaped, his jaw going slack. “No one knows about that! I never told anyone!”

  He looked back at the Queen, his voice hardening. “What do you mean, Your Majesty? How do you know me by a name given to me by the gods?”

  The Queen sighed deeply. “I must think about this.”

  Without another word, she rose and walked away, leaving them to stare after her in astonishment.

  “Wait!” Skylan called. “You can’t just walk out! What about the torque—”

  But he was talking to no one. The Queen had left the throne room. Swearing, Skylan ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

  “Do you know what is going on?” he asked Aylaen.

  She shook her head. Seeing guards approaching them, Skylan rounded on them.

  “You’re not taking me back to that dungeon!” he said.

  “You are to be given quarters in the palace, near your Queen,” said the guard.

  “My Queen,” Skylan repeated, smiling at Aylaen. He fell into step beside her, the guards leading the way. “I behaved like a rampaging boar. I am sorry. It’s just … this is all so strange and I feel so helpless. At least our ship is safe. If we could reach it, we could escape—”

  “Not without the Vektan Torque,” said Aylaen.

  “That’s right,” said Skylan, brooding. “I forgot.”

  “So why are you called Torval’s Fish Knife?” said Aylaen.

  Skylan gave a shame-faced smile. “Back on the Dragon Isles, I once asked Vindrash arrogantly if Torval thought of me as his sword. The goddess laughed at me and said I wasn’t a sword. I was nothing more than a knife Torval used to gut his fish.”

  Aylaen smiled. “You were insulted.”

  “I was then,” said Skylan. He added somberly, “I’ve learned a lot since.”

  “But not how to hold your tongue,” Aylaen said, grinning.

  Skylan shook his head morosely. “I do not understand these people.”

  “I remember where I’ve heard that about the fish knife,” said Aylaen. “When we were in the Temple with Garn’s spirit, Vindrash said she was going to bet Torval’s fish knife against her shining sword. I had no idea what she was talking about.”

  “You, of course,” said Skylan.

  Aylaen blinked at him, startled. “Be serious.”

  Skylan took hold of her hand. “I am serious. You are her ‘shining sword.’ The blessed sword of Vindrash.”

  “I fear my blade is dull and blunted,” said Aylaen with a sigh.

  “And I am a broken fish knife,” said Skylan. “You spoke to the Queen before I arrived. What did you talk about? Why doesn’t she set us free? Why is she keeping us here?”

  “She accused us of invading her realm by the command of Aelon,” said Aylaen. “I told her we followed the Old Gods. She said she was a priestess, but she did not say of which god. I do not think, from what we have seen, that she worships Aelon.”

  They were climbing the spiral stairs and both paused to look out one of the many windows. The sun was starting to sink. The lagoon’s blue glow was touched with pinks and oranges. Glints of mica sparkled. Aquins walked along the far shore or strolled on the paths that wound up the cliff side or sailed upon the shining water in boats or swam with flashing strokes that sent ripples spreading.

  Their guards did not hasten them, but stopped when they stopped. Farinn had charmed one of his guards, a young woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, who could not seem to take her eyes off him. Acronis was talking volubly with his two guards, asking questions about their lives, their city. His guards were smiling, glad that he was taking an interest in their people.

  “The Legate is an unusual man,” said Aylaen, following Skylan’s gaze. “We were his slaves with reason to hate him and he made us love him. And now he has endeared himself to his captors.”

  “Acronis is a fair and honest man,” said Skylan. “He opens himself to new ideas. That’s why Raegar and his priest friends hated him. They could not tell him what to think.”

  “So Raegar is Priest-General now,” said Aylaen. “That will make Treia happy.”

  “And the first thing he does is come after us,” said Skylan. He scratched his chin, puzzled. “How did he know we were alive and where to find us?”

  “Aelon’s priests have many ways to communicate with each other and he has spies and followers everywhere, even below the sea. They must have passed on the information.”

  “So why don’t you think this Queen worships Aelon?”

  “When Queen Magali spoke Aelon’s name, she sounded as though she had bitten into a rotten apple. She seemed to want to spit it out.”

  “You trust her?” Skylan asked, regarding her with a slight frown.

  “I trust her and I like her,” said Aylaen. “I think she is fair and she is honest. What is more important, our gods trust her, Skylan. How else could she know about you and Torval?”

  Skylan shook his head, not convinced.

  “Our gods are fighting the battle in heaven,” Aylaen said earnestly. “They are battered and bloodied, but they fight on and they are helping us as best they can. Perhaps we were brought here for a reason.”

  “So we were nearly drowned and then killed by a kraken for a reason,” Skylan said.

  “Everything we do is for a reason,” said Aylaen. “Perhaps you were brought here so that you can learn to care for babies.”

  Skylan was about to protest indiginantly, and then saw her smile. He took hold of her hand.

  “It is good to see you happy again.”

  The palace was quiet. From outside came the sound of the water lapping on the shore. The tranquility of this lovely realm seeped into both of them. Aylaen drew near Skylan.

  “Come to my bed tonight,” Aylaen whispered.

  Skylan’s body stiffened. He swallowed and stared out the window and then, clearing his throat, he said quietly, “No. Not until we are wed. Our son will be Chief of Chiefs. He must be born in honor. When you are my wife, I will come to your bed.”

  “Then let us wed here,” said Aylaen.

  Skylan was astonished.

  “The Queen can marry us.” Aylaen seemed pleased with her idea. “She is a priestess. She can wed us.”

  “Right before she sends us to Raegar,” said Skylan with a grim smile.

  “I do not think she will do that … Oh, Skylan, listen to me. I feel like our wy
rds are like balls of yarn rushing down a hill, unwinding as they go. We will reach our end far too fast. Because I did not know my own heart, I have already missed too many moments of joy with you. I would not miss any more.”

  Pain darkened Skylan’s eyes. Aylaen’s voice faltered. “If … if you want to wed me…”

  The pain was gone, replaced by almost blinding joy.

  “I have made so many mistakes in my life,” Skylan said. “Loving you is the only thing I got right. I will speak to the Queen tomorrow.”

  “No,” said Aylaen. “I will speak to the Queen.”

  Skylan laughed. One of the guards ordered them to keep moving. They had been standing there long enough. Arms twined around each other, Aylaen and Skylan continued slowly up the stairs. Acronis and his guards followed, still talking companionably. Farinn, conscious of the admiring gaze of the young woman, lost his footing, tripped, and stumbled. She was at his side to steady him. Blushing and self-conscious, he did not know where to look and tripped again.

  The mood was shattered by Wulfe, who came running into the palace with a couple of guards in pursuit. He was half-naked and wet and slippery as an eel. He raced up the stairs, his bare feet slapping.

  “Hey, Skylan,” he shouted gleefully, “I’ve been running all over the palace looking for you!”

  * * *

  The Sea Goddess, Akaria, stood in a hidden alcove, covered by a decorative frieze, and looked down upon the group on the staircase. From her vantage point, she could hear and see all they did and said. Another goddess, wearing a dented breastplate stained with blood and chain mail whose links were pierced and broken, stood beside the Sea Goddess looking down on the mortals below.

  “I do not think much of Torval’s Fish Knife,” said Akaria. “Any number of gods must want him dead.”

  “As Skylan concedes, he has learned a lot, though his lessons had to be beaten into him.”

  “So Sund is seeking to kill him. Why did no one tell me Sund had turned traitor?”

  “If you had not been off sulking in your grotto, you would know what has happened in the world,” Vindrash admonished.

  “I was mourning the death of my daughter,” said Akaria sullenly. “What has this arrogant and rebellious mortal to do with our future?”

  “Sund was the only one of us with long sight. He could look into the future and see what was to come. Of course, since our wyrds are bound with the wyrds of men, Sund saw many futures, all constantly shifting. He chose among the many, finding the most probable, and relating that future to us. In the beginning, he chose wisely. But when we foolishly did not heed his counsel, Sund grew angry and embittered. The darkness in his soul caused him to see only those outcomes that are bleak and unhappy.”

  “And what did Sund see that sent him running to Aelon?” Akaria asked.

  “Sund foresaw that if Skylan Ivorson recovers all Five of the Vektia Dragons, he will use them in the battle against Aelon. The Five would destroy Aelon and save the world from the tyrant god.”

  “And that is bad?” Akaria frowned.

  “So it would seem,” said Vindrash somberly. “For if Skylan recovers the Five and drives away Aelon, Sund sees nothing for us.”

  “What does that mean, Dragon Goddess?”

  Vindrash gave a small shrug. “Impossible to tell. Perhaps the world is saved, but we are no more.”

  Akaria stood brooding. “You want me to give them the third Vektia spiritbone.”

  “Sund gave Aelon the spiritbone of the Vektia in the belief that Skylan and Aylaen would not fail to obtain the Five. Aelon’s ambition led him to use the Vektia dragon to try to defeat the invading ogres and strike a blow at his rivals, the Gods of Raj. Aelon nearly ended up destroying himself and in an ironic twist of the thread, the Vektia spiritbone fell into Aylaen’s hands. The very fate Sund had attempted to avoid came to pass. Your Sea Queen has in her possession the Vektan Torque, the second of the Five.”

  “And you want me to tell them where to find the third,” said Akaria. She turned to face Vindrash. “If our doom and theirs lies in the Five coming together, why do you want to bring this doom about?”

  “We are not very good gods,” said Vindrash.

  “Speak for yourself!” Akaria snapped.

  Vindrash shook her head. “I was wrong to hide away the power of creation. I did so because I feared other gods might seize it, use it against us. But that left a void, and creation’s opposite, destruction, rushed in to fill it. Once, long ago, the races of the world prospered and lived in peace. Now they are at each other’s throats.”

  “There has never been war among the Aquins. Never has one Aquin shed the blood of another in battle,” Akaria said. “If Queen Magali refuses to give into the demands of Aelon’s followers, our long-time peace will end in bloodshed. This Fish Knife is expendable. There are always more where he came from.”

  “The evil was slow in finding its way to you, Akaria,” said Vindrash. “But it has come. Turn Skylan and Aylaen over to Aelon, and we are doomed.”

  “It seems we are doomed no matter what we do,” Akaria said, and she burst out crossly, “Why did you bring them here, dump them in my lap?”

  “I did not,” said Vindrash. “I was trying to help them reach Vindraholm.”

  “Aelon’s work, then.”

  “Aelon sent the kraken to kill them. It was your people who saved them,” Vindrash pointed out.

  “Force of habit,” Akaria muttered. “We are always saving land walkers, and small thanks we get for it! But if not you and not me and not Aelon, then who?”

  “The Gods of Raj,” Vindrash suggested.

  Akaria gave a bitter laugh. “Their ogres lie dead at the bottom of the sea.”

  Vindrash was silent, then she said quietly, “There are those we have forgotten. The dragons.”

  CHAPTER

  25

  Farinn Grimshaw had seen sixteen summers—barely. He had just passed his sixteenth on this voyage. He was an orphan and had moved to Luda to live with his mother’s sister’s family after his parents were killed in a forest fire. Caused by lightning, sweeping through tinder-dry underbrush, the fire had roared through the woods, consuming the house and his parents, trapping them inside before they could escape.

  Farinn had not been home or he would have met the same fate. Unable to sleep, he had left his bed and gone out to roam the hills and listen to the song of the stars, the song of the night.

  * * *

  Farinn had been a disappointment to his parents. He was termed lazy, for instead of planting or weeding or minding the cattle, he was often caught staring dreamily at nothing. His father had taught him to wield a battle-axe and to hold his shield and to stand with other warriors in the shield wall because every man must know these things.

  Farinn had joined the Torgun in the shield wall when they fought the ogres. He had taken his place, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his fellow warriors, their shields overlapping, gripping his axe, waiting for the foe to attack. He had done the same, gripping his axe, when they faced the giants on the Dragon Isles. He had gripped his axe, but he had yet to strike his first blow.

  He wasn’t a coward. He had been terrified, but he had not run away. He had waited with a grim and desperate courage for some enemy to attack him, but strangely, though the battle swirled all around him, the fighting never touched him.

  It was then that he realized the gods were saving him for something larger. And when he began to hesitantly and tentatively string words together to describe the battle with the giants or to compose the lay for the death of Garn or sing of Skylan’s battle with the fury in the Para Dix, Farinn had thought at first the gods had spared him to tell the tale of Skylan Ivorson, the Chief of Chiefs of the Vindrasi. Later Farinn would come to realize the gods wanted him to tell their own tale, how the wyrds of men and gods are bound together. That knowledge would only come long after he had sung the final verse.

  Skylan and the other men did not know what to make of Farinn. Bec
ause he was so quiet, they tended to forget he was around. Farinn liked it that way. When the men thought no one could hear them, he listened. When they thought no one was looking, he saw. Farinn did not judge. That was not his place. He crafted the song in his mind and repeated it to himself again and again and again, so that he would not forget. But this meant that if he died, the song would be lost, never to be heard. That was why he was learning to write down the song, so that others would remember, even if he was not there to sing it.

  Caught up in his dreams and songs, Farinn did not pay much heed to girls, mainly because girls did not pay much attention to him. He had soft brown hair and mild brown eyes and once he’d overheard two giggling girls saying he looked like a cow. He was slender without much muscle, for when other boys his age were practicing their fighting skills, he would sit beneath a tree, his eyes closed, humming to himself. Girls thought him odd, as did boys.

  The young Aquin guard did not consider him odd. She could not think he looked like a cow, since it was unlikely she had ever seen a cow. She walked up the stairs by his side, regarding him with an interest that even he, in his naïveté, could see was admiring.

  “My name is Kailani,” she said. “What are you called?”

  Farinn mumbled his name and was then forced to repeat it when she said she hadn’t heard.

  Kailani was lovely. Her beauty was strange and exotic and she found him attractive, too, though he could not imagine why. Of all the marvelous and wonderful things in this amazing place, fish and flora and fauna and oceanaids and breathing air under water, the fact that this beautiful young woman had taken a liking to him seemed the most marvelous, the most wonderful.

  Farinn had first seen Kailani when she had slipped into the palace to join the other guards. She was flushed from running and avoided the commander’s eye, leading him to believe she was late for duty. Kailani had been fortunate. The delegation from the City of the Fourth Daughter had arrived at that moment, distracting Commander Neda.