Rage of the Dragon(8)

“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.”