Doom of the Dragon (18 page)

“I see the mist,” he said. “But nothing else.”

The dragon snorted. “You look with mortal eyes. I see an island and now I hear the clash of arms. What you see as mist are ghosts. The dead fight the dead.” He sounded awed.

“Told you,” Wulfe muttered. “Dead Uglies.”

“But why would the dead be fighting?” Aylaen demanded. “Especially on an island devoted to pleasure.”

“I see the winged serpents of Aelon,” Kahg reported. “The god is leading the attack.”

“Skylan is on that isle … Aelon has long pursued him!” Aylaen stared at the horizon until her eyes ached.

The dragon's eyes flickered red. “Aelon has raised an army of hellkites, dragging them from the bowels of hell. The god would not go to all this trouble to capture one mortal, no matter how valiant. Aelon seeks bigger fish.”

The dragonship bounded across the waves. Sea spray broke over the bow.

“On the Isle of Revels?” Aylaen was perplexed. “What treasure could Joabis possibly have…”

Her voice trailed off, for she knew the answer.

“Make haste, Kahg! Increase our speed.” She turned to run down into the hold, intending to arm herself, when Acronis and Farinn both stopped her.

“You forget, my dear, that we hear only one side of your conversation with the dragon,” said Acronis. “You look dismayed. Wulfe says that we are sailing to an island belonging to a god, and that Skylan is on that island. You speak of treasure and Aelon. What is going on?”

“Vindrash gave spiritbones to the Sea Goddess and to the god Sund,” said Aylaen. “Those two are in my possession, as well as the one she gave to the Vindrasi people. I believe she gave the fourth to Joabis. Aelon is desperate to find it and now the god is attacking the island. The dead fight the dead.”

“Then we living must arm ourselves,” said Acronis. He smiled at Aylaen. “For I assume you plan to sail into the midst of the battle?”

Aylaen flushed. “Thank you, sir, for not telling me to flee to safety.”

“I would if I thought it would do any good,” said Acronis.

Aylaen hurried off. As she was leaving, she heard Wulfe say, “You're going to be fighting hellkites. If they kill you they'll eat your soul.”

“Having my soul eaten?” Acronis laughed. “Just another day's work on board the
Venejekar
.”

Aylaen had packed in her sea chest the armor she had worn when she had disguised herself as one of the Legate's soldiers. Lifting the lid, she looked inside, drew in a soft breath, and sat back on her heels to marvel at a miracle.

A shaft of sunlight from the open hatch gleamed on a shirt that she thought at first was made of chain mail, only to discover, on taking it out to admire it, that the shirt was not made of chain. It was far lighter in weight, smooth to the touch, and glistened with rainbow opalescence that reminded her of the Dragon Kahg.

“Armor made of dragon scales,” said Aylaen.

She had heard tales of such armor in legend and song. The Vindrasi hero Hagbard, who was said to have fought the fearsome monsters that roamed the land when the world was new, had worn armor made of dragon scales.

She found, as well, a white tunic of softest leather to wear beneath the armor, white leather breeches, and matching boots. A wonderful gift and there could be only one giver.

“Thank you, Vindrash,” Aylaen said reverently. “I take this as a sign—”

She was startled by a loud thud, as of something falling, and then sounds of a scuffle and then silence. The sounds had come from the back of the hold.

“Farinn? Is that you?” Aylaen called.

She had left the young man on deck with Acronis, but perhaps he had come down into the hold in search of something.

No answer.

“Wulfe, after you started that fire, I warned you not to come down here,” Aylaen said in stern tones.

She waited to see Wulfe bolt out of the back, making a mad scramble for the ladder before she could catch him.

Nothing happened. Wulfe did not appear.

Aylaen took hold of her sword, slowly rose to her feet and began to pad softly toward the stern, where they stored empty barrels, coils of rope, and the nets they used for fishing.

She heard the sounds again and she was thinking some of the cargo must have shifted when a pile of tangled fishnet gave a heave and started to stand. She could see feet poking out from underneath the net and arms flailing about, trying to cast it off.

Aylaen pointed her sword at the netting.

“I am armed,” she said. “Show yourself!”

A rotund figure emerged, finally managing to fight his way out of the fishnet. He was dressed in fine clothes, such as one might wear to a wedding, but they were filthy and disheveled and smelled of fish. He looked very forlorn and very frightened.

“Joabis!” Aylaen said, amazed and not particularly pleased. “What are you doing hiding on my ship?”

“My island is under attack,” Joabis said, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his tunic. “We must leave at once. Tell your dragon to sail away as fast as he can and take me with you. Oh, and by the way,” he added, regarding her with a hurt expression, “
I
was the one who gave you that fine dragon-scale armor. Not Vindrash.”

“You! Why?” Aylaen gasped.

“To thank you for saving me—”

“I'm not saving you!” said Aylaen. “Where is Skylan?”

“Off somewhere fighting,” said Joabis. “He was the one who sent me. He said to tell you it isn't safe and you must flee—”

“Do you have the spiritbone?” Aylaen asked, lowering her sword. “Is that why Skylan sent you?”

“The what?” Joabis asked uneasily.

“The spiritbone of the Vektia,” Aylaen repeated. “I know Vindrash gave it to you. Have you saved it from Aelon? Do you have it with you?”

“No,” said Joabis. “But I left it somewhere safe.”

“For Aelon to find,” Aylaen said, glowering in anger.

“Aelon doesn't have time to look for it,” Joabis assured her. “The god is busy fighting—”

“Fighting Skylan!” Aylaen exclaimed. She pressed the point of her sword against Joabis's belly. “That is why you brought him to this island. You flee and leave him to fight your battle!”

“We made a bargain,” said Joabis, gulping. “If he and the other dead warriors drive away Aelon, I will restore their lives. If you could just … remove that sword…”

Aylaen glared at him and then let the sword fall.

“Skylan is fighting the army of a god,” she said. “Can he win?”

“He seemed to think so,” said Joabis.

Aylaen shook her head with a smile. “Skylan has never met the foe he did not believe he could defeat.”

She thought a moment. “If you are right and Aelon is preoccupied with battle, then this would be a good time to recover the spiritbone. Where is the hiding place?”

Joabis recoiled, staring at her in horror. “You're not serious! Aelon is looking for me!”

“He won't be looking for me,” Aylaen said. “Tell me where to find it.”

“Are you sure you wouldn't rather just sail away?” Joabis asked plaintively.

“Positive,” said Aylaen. “You did give me that fine armor. This will be my chance to wear it.”

Joabis heaved a deep sigh. “So long as you don't expect me to come with you.”

The god gave her directions to the shrine and instructed her on how to remove the spiritbone from the statue. Aylaen listened carefully, making certain she understood.

“How goes the battle?” she asked when he was finished.

“Skylan and his forces are outnumbered,” Joabis answered, adding in reassuring tones, “But the last I saw, they were holding their own. Your Skylan is a bold rascal. Torval thinks well of him. Still, you should hurry if you're going to find the spiritbone before Aelon does. Oh, and don't tell anyone I'm here. Aelon has spies everywhere.”

Joabis dropped to his hands and knees on the deck and crawled back under the fishnet.

She went back to change into the leather breeches and tunic, and thrust her arms into the dragon-scale shirt, pulling it over her head and shoulders. The shirt was long, extending to her knees, and fit her well. She buckled on her sword, cast an exasperated glance in the direction of the pile of net, and started up the ladder.

“If you must know,” said a sepulchral voice from out of the fishnet. “I lied. Vindrash was the one who sent the armor.”

Aylaen smiled and went up on deck, trying to think what she was going to tell Acronis and Farinn. Acronis was wearing his breastplate and his sword and was assisting Farinn to put on his leather armor. The two stopped what they were doing to stare at her.

“What marvelous armor!” said Acronis in admiring tones. “I've never seen chain mail like that.”

“It is made of dragon scales,” said Aylaen, flushing with pleasure. “I need to talk with all of you and the dragon. Where is Wulfe?”

“At the sight of our weapons, he ran off to the stern,” Farinn replied, adding by way of explanation, “The iron.”

Aylaen might not have believed Wulfe's claim that iron burned his flesh, but she had seen for herself the bloody wounds on the boy's hands when he had tried to clean Skylan's sword.

She raised her voice. “Wulfe, I need to talk to you.”

“Take off your swords,” said Wulfe.

“No iron will hurt you,” she promised.

Wulfe refused to budge and at last Aylaen and Acronis laid down their weapons. Farinn drew his sword from its sheath and nervously dropped it; the blade nearly sliced through the bard's boot. Wulfe made a hooting noise, Farinn blushed, and Acronis cast a resigned glance at Aylaen. He had been trying to teach Farinn to wield a sword, but thus far the young man hadn't made much progress.

Aylaen walked over to speak to the Dragon Kahg. His eyes were narrowed and hooded, but she could see a slit of angry fire.

“You know Joabis is on board,” she said.

“I know,” Kahg growled. “The wretch begs me to protect him.”

“The task is onerous, but I think you must,” said Aylaen. “Aelon is searching for him and if he finds him, Joabis will reveal all he knows.”

The Dragon Kahg snorted. His gaze shifted, and Aylaen's new armor shone red in the glow of the dragon's eyes.

“A gift from Vindrash,” said Kahg.

“I believe so, yes,” said Aylaen. “I think the armor is very old and valuable. Only the ancient heroes wore such armor.”

“It is very old,” said Kahg. “The scales are Ilyrion's.”

Aylaen caught her breath, not sure what to make of this. By this time, Farinn and Acronis had joined her at the prow. Wulfe sidled closer to inspect her armor, taking care not to touch it.

“Those are dragon scales,” he said in tones of respect. “Is it magic? Dragon magic?”

“I don't know,” said Aylaen. “I hope not. Listen, I have to tell you something important and I don't have much time. I know the reason Aelon sent soldiers to this island. The fourth spiritbone is here. He is searching for it and I believe I know where it is. I must find it before he does. I am going ashore—”

“We will go with you,” said Acronis.

Aylaen shook her head. “I need you to stay on board, guard the
Venejekar
.”

“What about the god in the hold?” Wulfe asked. “Are we supposed to guard him, too?”

“There is no god. I don't have time for such nonsense,” Aylaen said, fixing Wulfe with a grim look.

“It's not nonsense,” Wulfe said, aggrieved. “You talked to him.”

“
Is
there a god in the hold?” Acronis asked.

Aylaen sighed. “Yes, but I'm not supposed to tell anyone. Joabis fled his island and came seeking the dragon's protection. He told me where to find the spiritbone.”

Acronis and Farinn both looked amazed and obviously were eager to ask more questions. Aylaen turned back to the dragon. She didn't have the answers.

“We must sail east along the isle until we come to an inlet protected by mangroves,” she told the dragon. “You can hide the ship there.”

“I can see the fighting,” said Acronis suddenly.

They lined the rail to watch.

“A strange and terrible sight,” said Farinn, awed. “The dead fight the dead.”

The battle was eerily, utterly quiet. Warriors were ghostly, insubstantial images, reflections floating on the sea of death. Swords struck shields and hammers battered helms without making a sound. The dead died silently.

Aylaen looked for Skylan. She knew where he would be: where the fighting was fiercest, the battle blazed hottest. She could not see him and, as the ship sailed east, the battle receded into the distance and then vanished like mist in the bright sunshine.

The
Venejekar
rounded a point and they kept a lookout for the inlet Joabis had mentioned. He had said it was sheltered among the mangroves, but that was not much help, for this part of the isle was thick with mangroves, perching like herons on their prop roots that thrust up out of the water.

They had almost sailed past the inlet before anyone saw it. Farinn caught a glimpse of an opening among the leaves and called to the dragon. Kahg sailed the
Venejekar
into the inlet, gliding between banks lined with mangroves. Aylaen knew they were in the right place when they came across Joabis's own dragonship tied to a tree root.

The sun blazed in the sky, shining on the water. The air was hot and humid and so still she could hear the waves gently lapping among the mangrove roots. She was already sweating in the leather tunic, pants, and armor.

Joabis had told her that a narrow trail led inland. Kahg edged the
Venejekar
's prow in among the roots near the trail. The ship bumped on the roots and came to halt.

“Do you insist on going alone?” Acronis asked.

“I will be in no danger,” said Aylaen. “This part of the island is deserted. I need you to stay with Farinn and Wulfe and … Skylan.”