Skylan sagged back in the net, weak with relief. Wulfe mouthed the names of Acronis and Farinn, pointing at the mask and then pointing at the net in which Skylan was trapped. He made a motion of having his wrists bound together.
Skylan understood that Acronis and Farinn were prisoners, like he was. Wulfe had not said the same about Aylaen. Skylan wondered what had become of her, where they were taking her, where they were taking him. Even if Wulfe knew, he and Skylan had reached the limit of their ability to communicate. The Aquin commander had succeeded in shooing away the oceanaids. The lovely nymphs held out their hands to Wulfe, urging him to come join with them. Twisting about in the water, Wulfe waved at Skylan and then swam off.
Apparently a boy who could change himself into a wolf could also change himself into a trout.
Fatigue and pain, awe and confusion and disbelief rushed at Skylan like warriors in an opposing shield wall. He had no weapons to fight them and he sank beneath their onslaught. Weary in body and spirit, he reconciled himself to the fact that he could do nothing except let the thread of his wyrd spin out as it would, go where it may.
BOOK 2 CHAPTER 12
Raegar looked powerful and magnificent standing at the prow of the war galley, his clenched fist raised to heaven, calling down the curse of Aelon upon the Venjekar, the dragonship that had humiliated them. The men on board the war galley were impressed and they watched in silence to see if Aelon would respond.
Nothing happened. The ship sailed away, bound on a course that would carry Skylan and the Vektia spiritbone back to Vindraholm. The soldiers-Temple guards, Aelon’s chosen-either didn’t think much of Aelon or they had lost faith in his Warrior-Priest, for they cast dark glances at Raegar and muttered among themselves. Though he was a Warrior-Priest, he was also an outsider, a foreigner, and he had conjured up a dragon, a dangerous and terrifying beast. Most felt they were lucky the dragon had not slain them all.
Raegar was a Vindrasi. He was accustomed to fighting alongside dragons and he had not, as Acronis had predicted, given any thought as to how the Sinarians aboard his ship would react to the sight of a dragon, especially after they had witnessed a dragon rain down death and destruction on their city of Sinaria. The fools had cheered when the dragon flew off in ignominious defeat. Then Raegar had been forced to waste precious time fishing Treia out of the sea. After that, the sailors had refused to continue their pursuit of the Venjekar. They were going home to their families-if they had any families left. Raegar had urged Captain Anker, commander of the Temple guards, to force the sailors at sword point to continue sailing the ship in pursuit of the Venjekar. In answer, Captain Anker had thrown his sword onto the deck.
“You do it,” he’d said to Raegar, and walked off.
Raegar realized he had been made to look foolish. He’d lost all the political capital he’d gained in Sinaria. He needed to win it back and, with Aelon’s help, he would.
Raegar paid no attention to his men. He continued to watch Skylan, his fair-haired cousin, beloved of the gods. Beloved of old, toothless, decrepit gods. Raegar had faith in Aelon. He waited to see what would happen.
The Venjekar slowed. The ship was turning, sailing off on a new course-heading for the ogre ship that had been dogging it. Raegar was puzzled and wary. What was Skylan up to? Was he plotting to join with the ogres and come after Aelon’s Triumph? Raegar raised the spyglass. He was not an experienced sailor, but even he could tell that the ogre ship was sinking.
“By god! Look at that!” Captain Anker shouted.
His face was pale beneath his weather-beaten tan, his eyes wide and staring. Men all over the ship were crying out in alarm. Raegar shifted the spyglass in time to see the enormous tentacles of the kraken wrap around the ogre ship and crush it. Another tentacle seized hold of the Venjekar and dragged it beneath the waves. The water boiled furiously for a moment and then grew calm. Nothing was left of either ship except a few pieces of cracked timber.
Raegar lowered the spyglass. He did not turn around.
“Praise Aelon!” he cried.
All he heard was silence and then came the sound of men dropping to their knees. A few shouted, “Praise Aelon,” but most were too awed to speak.
Raegar turned around slowly, gazing at the soldiers and sailors who, moments earlier, had reviled him and who now were regarding him with almost worshipful respect. Treia, wet and bedraggled, stood with her mouth open, blinking, stunned.
“Witness the power of Aelon!” Raegar cried with a sweep of his arm. “He has destroyed our enemies with a single blow! We will sail back to Sinaria, praising Aelon’s name, and we will bury our dead and rebuild our city! For Aelon’s glory!”
“For Aelon’s glory!” the men cried.
The sailors went to work with a will. Aelon granted them a fair wind. They had no need of rowers, which was good, since many of them were injured and their oars broken.
Raegar was well pleased with himself and with Aelon. He was in an excellent mood and disposed to be generous to Treia. She had been the cause of the disaster that had leveled Sinaria and killed thousands, that was true. But if it hadn’t been for this disaster, Raegar would still be a Warrior-Priest, carrying out the dirty work of Priest-General Xydis.
Now Xydis was dead. Raegar had long nurtured the ambition of one day rising to the office of Priest-General. The road to the fulfillment of his ambition had been long and winding and steep, blocked by rock falls and gaping pits. Holding the body of the Priest-General in his arms that terrible night, Raegar had seen the road to success suddenly flatten out, with almost all impediments swept away. The god, it seemed, was pleased with him. True to the fighting spirit of the Vindrasi, he stood on the smoldering rubble of his city and wondered how he could use this to his advantage.
The survivors would be left in disarray, bewildered and terrified, in desperate need. They would be searching for someone to lead them and, with the Priest-General dead and the Empress dead and no heir and no appointed successor, Sinaria was up for grabs.
Captain Anker stood before him, head bowed. He humbly begged Raegar’s pardon and asked what he could do. Raegar waved a magnanimous hand.
“I’m going below,” he announced. “Summon me when we reach port.”
He walked across the deck, feeling all eyes on him, feeling the respect, the fear. Word would spread when they reached Sinaria. The people would hear how Raegar had asked Aelon for a miracle and the god had granted his request.
He stood for a moment, basking in the sunlight, and then he went below to deal with Treia.
CHAPTER 13
Treia had been as astonished as any man on board Aelon’s Triumph to witness Raegar summon a sea monster from the deep and send it to destroy Skylan. She looked at Raegar, blinking at him with her weak eyes, and saw that he had changed. He was no longer a former slave, a foreigner, the hound beneath the table of great men, begging for scraps. He had attained greatness himself. He was, if not a god, godlike.
And where does that leave me? Treia wondered in despair.
As if in answer, when one of the soldiers asked Raegar what they were to do with her, he said coldly, without so much as a glance, “Take her to my cabin.”
The soldier escorted Treia to a small room below deck, shoved her inside, and closed the door and barred it. She peered around in the dim light, searching for dry clothes, for she was wet and cold and shivering. She found a robe, one of Raegar’s, that was much too big for her. She wrapped up in it, cocoon-like, lay on the cot that served as a bed, and wondered fearfully what would become of her.
She fell asleep and woke with a start to the sound of heavy footfalls, and the bar on the door lifted. Treia sat up, quaking. Raegar entered the room and stood frowning at her.
She tried to speak, but her throat closed. Raegar said not a word. He stood staring at her, coldly.
Treia cringed. “Thank you for saving me, my love.”
“Don’t call me your love!” Raegar said angrily. “You betrayed me! I heard the name of the god to whom you prayed when you summoned the dragon. Hevis was the name. You prayed to one of your savage, pagan gods and brought disaster upon us all!”
He paused, eyeing her, then said harshly, “Or perhaps, in your eyes, it wasn’t disaster. Perhaps you count the destruction of Sinaria a victory!”
“No! Oh, no, dearest!” Treia cried, alarmed. She reached out a shaking hand. “I wanted only to please you. I was desperate to please you. So desperate … I could not tell you the truth.”
“And what truth is that?” Raegar sneered.
Treia gave a weary sigh. “Aelon has no control over the spiritbones of the Vektia. Torval placed within the Five the power of creation in order to protect that power and keep it out of the hands of any other god who might try to usurp it. In order to gain the knowledge of the ritual to summon the Vektia dragon, I had to go to Hevis.
“If anything, he betrayed me,” she added bitterly. “Hevis promised the dragon would destroy the ogres. I had no idea the dragon would go rampaging through the city, destroying everything in its path. But now that we know the secret of the Five, my love”-she spoke the word timidly, greatly daring-“you know how to gain this power for yourself.”
“For Aelon, you mean,” said Raegar.