Bones of the Dragon

by Margaret Weis

  “We are in strange waters. The dragon will head for land by nightfall,” Skylan told them. “He will be forced to.”

  Dragons could see in darkness, but not even a dragon’s piercing eyes could detect the sharp rocks lying beneath the water that could rip open a ship’s belly or sandbars on which a ship could founder. Only in waters the dragon knew well would he risk sailing after dark or in thick fog, as he had when he’d brought Skylan home.

  The sun sank; the mist glowed orange with the dying flame. Darkness fell, and the moon was ghostly in the mists that lay clammy fingers on the skin and writhed about the deck. The dragon continued to sail east.

  Of course, Erdmun would remember the Durtmundor, the famous ghost ship whose crew had killed a whale, a sea creature sacred to Akaria, and been cursed by the goddess to forever sail the seas, lamenting their fate.

  “Maybe we’re a ghost ship,” Erdmun said to his listeners, crouching on their sea chests. “Maybe we’re all dead and we just don’t know it.”

  Skylan walked over to Erdmun, yanked him to his feet, and punched him in the face. Erdmun stumbled backwards, fell over the chest, and landed on his rump.

  “Did you feel that?” Skylan demanded, standing over him with clenched fists.

  Edmund mumbled something and spit blood.

  “Good,” said Skylan. “Then you’re not dead.”

  He walked off. He saw, in passing, Garn smile and give an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Skylan’s steps slowed. All his life, he had turned to Garn for counsel and advice. Skylan never needed that counsel more than he needed it now. He saw Garn watching him, silently asking for Skylan’s forgiveness.

  But Skylan couldn’t forgive. How could Aylaen love Garn? She was supposed to love Skylan. She was meant to love Skylan. He was Chief of Chiefs. He was a courageous warrior. He possessed land and cattle and a fine horse and a sword worth a chief’s ransom. Garn was nobody, a pauper, living on Norgaard’s charity. Women—other women—loved Skylan. No woman had ever loved Garn.

  No woman except Aylaen.

  Let Garn choke on his counsel! Skylan thought. I have no need of it. I am, after all, Chief of Chiefs. He walked to the stern, putting the length of the ship between himself and Garn. Skylan set the watch and then flung himself moodily down on the deck, hoping to get some sleep.

  Wulfe came pattering over. “I’m hungry. When are we going to eat?”

  Skylan scowled at him. The boy had barely a stitch on. “Where are your clothes?”

  “They were wet,” said Wulfe. “And they itched.”

  “Go put some clothes on,” Skylan said. “You’ll freeze.”

  “I’m not cold.” Wulfe sat down beside him. “Did you see? Your draugr’s guiding the ship.”

  Skylan snorted. “Go tell your ghost tales to Erdmun,” he muttered, clasping his arms around his chest, trying to make himself comfortable. The draugr had not visited him since the night before the storm. He had hoped he was rid of her.

  “But she is,” Wulfe insisted. “See for yourself.”

  Skylan sighed, and just to shut the boy up, he raised himself onto one elbow and looked to the front of the ship.

  The draugr stood beside the spiritbone, her hand on the dragon’s carved neck, just as Skylan remembered seeing Draya on the day of her death.

  The dragon’s eyes shone red in the mists. Draya’s face shimmered white. Skylan shuddered.

  “Where is she taking us?”

  “I don’t know,” Wulfe said. “I asked the oceanaids where we were, but they won’t tell me. They jeer at me and say we’re cursed.”

  “We are not cursed,” Skylan said wrathfully, and he raised his voice for all to hear him—all, including his dead wife. “We are not cursed! Torval brought us safely through the storm. He has us in his care. He will bring us home.”

  He glared at Wulfe. “Go put some clothes on!”

  Skylan threw himself back down on the deck. He shut his eyes, squeezed them tight, so that they would not fly open and stare at the draugr.

  “Skylan,” said a gentle voice. “May I talk to you?”

  “What do you want?” Skylan asked harshly. He did not have to open his eyes. The voice was like a sword slicing through his gut.

  “I know you can never forgive me, Skylan,” Aylaen said. “I understand, though it makes me sad, for you are my friend, my brother—”

  Skylan’s eyes flared open. Aylaen flinched at the raw pain she saw there. She reached out her hand.

  “Don’t,” he said, his fury burning.

  Aylaen let her hand fall. “I know you can never forgive me,” she repeated, “but I hope you can forgive Garn—”

  “Why do you love him?” Skylan demanded.

  “Why do you love him?” Aylaen countered.

  “I’m asking you,” he said sullenly.

  Aylaen smiled. “I’ll tell you why you love Garn. You love him because he is wise and good and kind. You love him because his courage is not a banner that he waves in your face. His courage gives him the strength to do grubbing work in the fields day after day. His courage is patient and gentle with Norgaard when he is twisted up in pain. His courage led him to dive into the sea during the storm to try to save a man he didn’t even know. You love him for all those reasons, Skylan. And that is why I love him.”

  Skylan grabbed hold of her, held her tightly. “But I want you to love me!”

  “You have always had everything you wanted in life, Skylan,” Aylaen said, gently and sadly. “But not this time.”

  “Freilis take you, then! Freilis take you both!”

  Skylan shoved her away and lay back down. He closed his eyes, did not look at her. He sensed her lingering for a moment, hoping he would relent. Skylan would never do that. His aching heart, his bitter jealousy, his wounded pride twisted around inside him like a nest of baby vipers. He knew he should cut off their heads, for the longer he nursed them, the stronger and more powerful and more poisonous they would become. He could not help himself, however. He fed the snakes the milk of hatred.

  “Skylan!” Erdmun was shaking him. “Skylan, wake up!”

  “I’m awake,” Skylan mumbled, trying to crawl out of the hole of deep sleep. “What is it?” He sat up, yawning and scratching at the beard sprouting on his chin. He hated going without shaving. It made him feel unclean.

  “I sighted land,” said Erdmun, who had been standing lookout.

  Skylan was on his feet, awake in an instant. He looked swiftly and uneasily in the direction of the dragon’s head and breathed a sigh of relief to see that the draugr was gone. The mists were gone, as well. A red slit on the horizon presaged the sun, whose light was already spreading a pinkish glow in the sky.

  “Wake the others,” said Skylan.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Erdmun. “Not yet.”

  Skylan cast him a frowning glance. “Why not?”

  Erdmun pointed.

  Two immense rock formations jutted up out of the water. The rocks stood opposite each other, leaving a space between large enough for a dragonship. The rocks were not a natural foundation. They were the remains of an immense stone arch that had been built centuries before. The top of the arch had long ago broken and fallen into the sea. All that remained were the pillars that had supported it, and they were so eroded by wind and wave that only the Vindrasi remembered from their legends and stories and songs what they had been.

  “You see why I told you not to wake the men?” Erdmun said gloomily. His lip was swollen from where Skylan had hit him. “What are we going to do? The Dragon Kahg has brought us to the one place you warned us we should not go! We are cursed!”

  The Arch of Vektia, gateway to the Dragon Isles.

  The men were alarmed and frightened, and they urged Skylan to tell the dragon to turn the ship around so that they would not be attacked by giants. Skylan couldn’t very well tell the men they had nothing to fear, that he’d made up the entire tale. There was no curse. There were no giants. There had been
no battle on the Dragon Isles.

  Once his initial shock had passed, Skylan felt a vast sense of relief. He was grateful to the Dragon Kahg, who had known what he was doing all the time. Skylan had been on the Dragon Isles before. There was plenty of game. There were trees that could be cut down, used to make a new rudder.

  The ship had, admittedly, been blown a vast distance off course. But even with the delay, there were still several months of good sailing weather ahead of them. Time enough to meet up with the other dragonships and find the ogres’ lands.

  Now, all Skylan had to do was fix his lie. The dragonship was sailing straight toward the arch, and some of the men were threatening to jump overboard rather than risk the wrath of the gods.

  Raegar came up to the rail, leaned his elbow on it. “Strange that the dragon should bring us to the Dragon Isles,” he said in a low voice.

  He moved closer. He pitched his voice for only Skylan to hear. “Don’t fret, Cousin. You did what you had to do. You saved Draya’s reputation, as well as your own. The gods understand and forgive. As for why the Dragon Kahg brought us here, consider this—the dragon would not have done so if Torval had not commanded it.”

  Skylan leaned on the rail, watching the pillars draw nearer, and considered his cousin’s words.

  “That is true,” Skylan was forced to concede.

  Except he knew it wasn’t. The dragon had not brought them here. Draya had. She had been standing beside the dragon, guiding him.

  The men needed food. They needed to make repairs to the ship, which was slowly sinking beneath them. Skylan stood mulling it over and was only gradually aware that Raegar had departed and Garn was at his side.

  Skylan started to walk off.

  “You don’t need to speak to me,” said Garn quietly. “Just listen. I came to warn you. Raegar is acting strangely. He spends most of his time scanning the sea, as though he’s searching for something.”

  “He’s looking for the other dragonships,” Skylan replied curtly. “Nothing strange in that.”

  “Just keep an eye on him,” said Garn, and he moved away.

  Skylan looked around the ship. The men lined the rail, eyeing the pillars and arguing about whether they should land on the Dragon Isles, a moot point, for the dragon seemed intent on carrying them there. Raegar was not among the crowd. He was standing by the rail, gazing out to sea, and he was smiling.

  “Raegar!” Skylan called.

  He jerked his head around, startled to find he was being watched.

  “Any sign of the other ships?” Skylan asked.

  Raegar was wary. His eyes narrowed. “What ships?”

  “The two dragonships, of course,” said Skylan, puzzled by the response.

  “Ah!” Raegar’s face cleared. He gave a shrug and a sorrowful shake of his head. “I’ve seen nothing of them, I’m afraid.”

  He crossed the deck to join the other men.

  Skylan wiped the sweat from his face and ran his hand through his hair to feel the cool air on his scalp. Things were getting far too complicated. Skylan looked at the pillars, and he longed to tell Garn everything.

  Tell him I lied when I said I had been to the Dragon Isles before. Tell him it was not Torval nor yet the dragon who brought us here to these sacred isles. It was the draugr, the walking corpse of my dead wife. My wife who haunts my dreams and forces me to play dragonbones night after night for a reason I cannot fathom. I would tell Garn the truth about Raegar, how I met him, how he owned slaves, how he was going to abduct Draya, how he seemed perfectly content to never come back home and then he came back home.

  Garn would be able to explain it. He would know what it all meant.

  I saved him from drowning. Now the waters are closing over my head. I need him to save me.

  Skylan looked at his friend and even took a step toward him. At that moment, Aylaen walked over to Garn. Their hands twined together. They gazed into each other’s eyes. In that moment, they were the only two people in the world. In that moment, each existed only for the other.

  The snakes inside Skylan twisted.

  “Listen to me!” Skylan shouted, and the men ceased their arguments. “Torval himself has brought us to this blessed haven, where we can rest and eat our fill and repair our ship. We will offer prayers of thanks to Torval and to Vindrash for bringing us safely through the storm. And we will vow to the gods that we will not return to our homes until we have recovered the Vektan Torque.”

  The warriors discussed this among themselves and at last agreed that Skylan must be right. The dragon would not have brought them here if there were a curse.

  In spite of all that, they might not have agreed so readily, but that no man could stomach more raw fish.

  CHAPTER

  9

  The Venjekar swept between the Pillars of Vektia and entered the Bay of the Pillars. The water here was aqua blue, many shades lighter than the dark blue of the sea. The Dragon Kahg did not diminish his speed. Dragons and men had traveled here since the beginning of time. The only sandbar was clearly visible—a narrow strip of brownish-white sand adorned by a single wind-stunted tree. The dragonship sailed around the sandbar and through the deep water, heading for the shore.

  And then, without warning, came the sickening sound of splintering wood. The ship’s forward momentum stopped abruptly. Everything and everyone kept going. Men slammed into the hull. Those, like Skylan, who had been leaning on the rail flew over the side and landed in the water.

  The Venjekar had run aground.

  Skylan bobbed to the surface. The water was calm and shallow. He could not touch the bottom, but he could see it beneath his boots. He could also see the sandbar and the wrecked dragonship. Beside him, Wulfe was coughing, spitting out water, and looking indignant.

  “Can you swim?” Skylan asked.

  Wulfe nodded.

  “Then head to shore,” Skylan ordered.

  From his vantage point in the water, he could see that returning to the ship was useless. The dragonship perched at an odd angle on a narrow strip of sand, the keel buried deep. Even if the ship had sustained no major damage, freeing it would be an immense task.

  The tide would make a difference. Skylan had no way of knowing if it was rising or falling, but if they were at low tide, the high tide might float the dragonship off the sandbar.

  He swam back to the ship to tell the others to disembark. Skylan glanced at the dragon’s head. He couldn’t help but think that this disaster served the dragon right. Kahg had allowed the draugr to bring them here and then dump them on a sandbar. The eyes of the Dragon Kahg were hooded. Treading water, Skylan could see only a narrow red glint of light, and the light looked angry.

  “Unload everything!” Skylan yelled up at those still on board. “Lighten the weight!”

  Garn understood, and he and Aylaen and Bjorn began gathering up weapons and shields and the supplies that had survived the storm. They lowered sea chests and barrels over the side. Skylan and those in the water began ferrying them to shore. When the last barrel had been thrown into the water, Bjorn jumped in. Garn and Aylaen went to persuade Treia that she should leave. She clung to the rail, shaking her head violently.

  “She can’t swim!” Garn called.

  “Toss her down. I’ll catch her!” Skylan cried, and before Treia could protest, Garn picked her up and lowered her over the side.

  Treia fell into Skylan’s arms with a gasp and grabbed him around the neck with a clutch that nearly strangled him.

  “Let loose and stop kicking!” he ordered. “You’re going to drown us both!”

  “The spiritbone!” Treia spluttered, clawing at him in panic.

  “I have it, Treia!” Aylaen called out.

  Skylan took Treia to the shore. Men were sorting through the supplies, cleaning the salt water off their weapons.

  Skylan stripped off his shirt and was spreading it out in the sand to dry when Aylaen came hastening up to him. He glowered, warning her away. As always, she ignored him.<
br />
  “Raegar’s missing,” she said.

  Skylan frowned at her, then shrugged. “He’s around. Probably off in the bushes taking a crap.”

  “No, he’s not, Skylan,” said Aylaen insistently. “I’ve looked. Treia’s looked, and so have Garn and some of the others. Raegar’s not here. He’s not anywhere. And there’s something else. Erdmun says he saw Raegar fall into the water. No one’s seen him since.”

  Aylaen drew in a shaking breath. “I . . . we’re afraid he may have drowned.”

  Skylan snorted. “The water’s not that deep. Raegar would have to work really hard to drown in it.”

  “Raegar was standing at the stern, not the prow like the rest of us. Erdmun says Raegar fell into the deep water on the other side of the sandbar. And he told Treia he couldn’t swim.”

  Skylan instituted another search. He sent men into the thick stands of wind-stunted pine trees and others back out into the sea to search the clear waters of the bay. He and Erdmun swam back to the sandbar, boarded the dragonship, and walked to the stern.

  “He was standing here looking out to sea when the ship struck,” said Erdmun. “He pitched over headfirst.”

  “Did you see what happened to him? Hear him cry or shout?” Skylan asked.

  Erdmun shook his head and pointed to a large swelling purple bump on his forehead. “I was knocked off my feet. I think I must have blacked out a moment, so I didn’t hear anything.”

  Skylan stared down into the dark blue water.

  The sea was fathoms deep here, not shallow as it was on the other side of the sandbar. Raegar was a large man, big-boned, heavy, and muscular. He would have sunk like a sack of boulders.

  Skylan shook his head and said a silent prayer to Torval for his cousin’s soul. Raegar had returned from the dead, and now he’d gone back there. Torval be with him. Skylan and Erdmun swam back to shore.

  Aylaen looked hopefully at Skylan. He shook his head. “No sign of him.”