Rage of the Dragon

by Margaret Weis

  You were more than the commander of my guards. I counted you a friend. Will you now betray me?

  Commander Neda hesitated, then she pressed her lips tightly together and lunged, driving the spear into the Queen’s breast.

  The breath rushed from the Queen’s mouth. She held fast to the spear for a moment, staring at the commander in sorrow. Blood billowed from the terrible wound. The Queen went limp in the water.

  Aylaen broke free of her captors and took hold of the dying Queen. She yanked the spear from the Queen’s body and flung it away, then held the Queen in her arms. The Queen gazed at her. Her lips moved, but only blood and a faint trail of bubbles rose from her mouth, staining the sea.

  The bubbles ceased. Her blood darkened the water.

  Commander Neda stared down, white-faced, at the woman she had murdered. She seemed overwhelmed by the enormity of her action. The Warrior-Priests were dazed, shocked, with no idea what to do. With no thought of what she was doing, Aylaen yanked the breathing tube from her mouth to shout words that no one could hear.

  See this! See what you have done in the name of Aelon! See and remember!

  Commander Neda came to her senses. The water was filled with blood. Next, the water would be filled with sharks. She grabbed Aylaen and thrust the breathing tube into her mouth, slapping her when Aylaen tried to drag it out again. Neda handed her over to the Warrior-Priests. This time they bound her hands and her arms and then dropped a net over her. Whistling to dolphins, the Warrior-Priests swam away, dragging Aylaen with them.

  Aylaen looked back to the Venjekar. The dragon’s red eyes blazed, bathing the Queen’s body in lurid light. Acronis, swimming out of the hold alone, the blessed sword of Vindrash in his hand, saw the body and stared in horror and shock, then searched frantically for Aylaen.

  She whispered a prayer, many prayers. A prayer to Vindrash, who had protected the Vektia spiritbone. A prayer to Torval that Skylan was not dead. A prayer to the Sea Goddess to say she was sorry, so very sorry.

  Sharks, scenting blood, were already circling.

  CHAPTER

  37

  Raegar, resplendent in his new armor, marked with the symbol of the Priest-General, a serpent twined about a sword, walked the deck of his dragonship. The afternoon sun was hot, but he basked in the rays with the keen enjoyment of one who remembered the bitter bite of winter’s icy winds and the freezing darkness of long nights. He often reflected that it was Aelon’s promise of warmth and light which had first drawn him to the God of the New Dawn. Raegar did not in the least miss his home in the north. He longed to return, but only as conqueror.

  Raegar noted, as he walked the deck, how the sailors and soldiers were careful not to cross his path. If forced by the necessity of their work to do so, they would cringe, beg his pardon, and remove themselves as swiftly as possible. Looking around, Raegar saw respect in every eye and he thought to himself that it was about damn time.

  So often in the past Raegar had looked into men’s eyes and seen derision, disdain. His superiors had made use of him, even as they despised him. Xydis had laughed at Raegar behind his back, mocked him, promoted him so that Raegar could do the dirty work. Raegar had swallowed the insults and done their bidding, performed their demeaning tasks, soiled his own hands so that theirs would remain clean. He had all the while been faithful to his god and his god had rewarded him, giving Raegar the satisfaction of sweet revenge. His enemies in Sinaria had either fled before he could reach them or he had found them and they were now no longer a threat.

  One enemy remained, an enemy that had no intention of fleeing. One enemy currently out of his reach. His cousin, Skylan Ivorson, who always seemed to find a way to make Raegar look bad in the eyes of both men and gods. A prime example was their last meeting. Raegar’s dragon, Fala, had abandoned him. His men had mutinied. He’d been forced to retreat, leaving Skylan the victor. Aelon had sent a kraken to drag Skylan to a watery grave, but Skylan had been saved by Aquins loyal to the Old Gods and he was again the victor.

  This time, by Aelon, Raegar would be the victor.

  The lookouts had been scouring the ocean, searching for those they were here to meet. One gave a cry and pointed out to sea. Raegar could see heads bobbing in the water. He raised his spyglass and put it to his eye. Two Aquins swam into view. He saw bald heads and serpent tattoos, Warrior-Priests. With Aelon’s blessing, they were here to deliver the goods.

  Raegar directed the captain to sail toward them. This was the same captain, Anker, who had turned on Raegar their last voyage. Anker had since had a change of heart. He was now Raegar’s most loyal subject. He gave Raegar a respectful salute and shouted orders. Sailors jumped swiftly to obey. The Dragon Fala had returned to the dragonship. Treia had given Fala’s spiritbone to Raegar, with strict instructions on the proper way to summon the dragon. Treia had wanted to come, but Raegar would not hear of risking either his wife or the child she was carrying. Treia might have insisted, but the mere thought of swooping up and down on the waves made her nauseous. She had sent Raegar with her blessing and the reminder never to summon a fire dragon over water. The Dragon Fala invested the ship with wings, as it were, and Aelon’s Triumph, now flying the flag of the Priest-General, sailed swiftly toward the waiting Aquins.

  “Do you have her?” Raegar bellowed as they drew near.

  “We have her, Priest-General!” a Warrior-Priest shouted back.

  The ship slowed as it circled the men in the water. Soldiers and others who had no duties lined the rail to catch a glimpse of the generally reclusive Aquins, curious to know what business the “fish people” had with their Priest-General.

  At first they thought the Aquins were handing over a haul of fish, for they asked that the sailors lower a rope with a hook. They attached the hook to a large net. The sailors heaved on the rope and hauled in the net. Water ran from it, cascading onto the deck. They lowered the net and then opened it to reveal a woman. She had some sort of odd mask over her face. She pried this loose, then flung the net from her and rose to her feet, blinking in the sunshine.

  “Greetings, my dear sister Aylaen,” said Raegar in pleasant tones.

  In answer, his “dear sister” sprang at him, struck him in the chest, catching him off guard and sending him staggering. Aylaen ran past him, making a dash for the railing with the intention of jumping back into the sea.

  Raegar roared a command and two men ran after Aylaen and dragged her back from the rail. They had hold of her by the arms. She kicked at them, trying to break free. The men on board the ship were grinning, for Aylaen’s flimsy gown clung wetly to her body and all on board were enjoying the view.

  This included Raegar, who could not take his eyes from her. He had always lusted after Aylaen. He could have her, too. He was master of this ship. He had his own cabin down below. She would have to submit to him. She would have no choice. She might actually enjoy it. He had long suspected Aylaen had a secret yearning for him.

  He licked his lips and was about to give the order for his men to take her below. Clearly his men were expecting this; perhaps they were hoping that when he finished, they would get his leftovers. Then he remembered—his vow to Aelon. He had sworn to be faithful.

  Raegar almost groaned aloud. He had been true to his vow up until now. He had been faithful to Treia and to Aelon, mainly because he had been too busy with affairs of state and the church to be unfaithful. This was the first time he had been truly tempted and he suddenly knew this was a test. Aelon was watching him and judging him. The thought was like jumping naked into a snowbank. Desire shriveled up and died.

  “Find some decent clothing for this woman!” Raegar ordered, his voice rasping. He turned a cold gaze on Aylaen. “Cover yourself, Sister. You look like a whore.”

  He wondered what to do with her. He had been about to tell his men to take her to his cabin, but he feared if he was alone with her, the temptation might be too great. Aylaen might try to seduce him. After all, she had run off to sea dressed like a m
an.

  “When she is dressed bring her to me here, on deck.” Raegar walked over to stand at the prow. The dragon’s head, rearing up over him, provided a suitable backdrop; it would remind Aylaen that he had risen in the world. Raegar gave orders to sail the ship back to Sinaria with all haste. The sooner he handed Aylaen over to Aelon, the sooner he was rid of her, the better.

  Aylaen returned wearing the only clothes they had been able to find for her: a soldier’s tunic. The tunic was short, barely covering her thighs. Raegar kept his eyes on her face. On his orders, one of the men brought a stool for Aylaen. She glanced at it and shook her head.

  “You might as well make yourself comfortable, Sister,” said Raegar. “The journey back to Sinaria is a long one.”

  “Don’t call me that,” said Aylaen.

  She did not sit down. She did not look at him. She gazed stonily out to sea.

  “Call you what? Sister?” Raegar smiled broadly. “But you are my sister now. Ah, but you don’t know, do you? Treia and I were married. She is carrying my child, my son.” Raegar spoke proudly.

  A spasm of pain contorted Aylaen’s face. Her eyes blinked rapidly. She said nothing.

  “Treia will be pleased to have you join her. She worries about you—”

  “My sister who tried to kill me?” Aylaen snorted.

  “What are you talking about?” Raegar asked with an incredulous laugh. “Treia loves you.”

  Aylaen gave him a pitying glance. “You truly don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?” Raegar was wary.

  “My sister, your wife, the mother of your child, has blood on her hands. She poisoned the men who were on guard duty the night we fled Sinaria. She poisoned Keeper on board our ship. She tried to kill me by slitting my throat.”

  “I don’t believe you!” said Raegar, scowling.

  “Treia made a bargain with Hevis, god of lies and deceit. She promised to sacrifice someone she loved and in return he gave her the ability to summon the Vektia dragon.”

  Aylaen shrugged. “She failed to keep her bargain. Hevis will not forget. I would watch what she puts in my soup if I were you—”

  Raegar struck Aylaen across the face. The blow was not hard, more shocking than painful. Aylaen tasted blood from a cut lip.

  “You will not speak such lies about my wife,” said Raegar, cold with fury.

  Aylaen wiped the blood from her mouth. “Treia told you Aelon gave her the power to summon the dragon, didn’t she? And you never thought to question that?”

  Aylaen looked back out to sea.

  Raegar had to take a moment to recover his composure. He had rarely been so angry. He didn’t believe her, he reassured himself. But there was an ache inside him, a fear. He wanted to hurt her in return.

  “If you are holding out hope that Skylan will come to your rescue, forget it. He is my prisoner,” said Raegar.

  Aylaen glanced at him and then looked away. Raegar smiled.

  “He fell into my trap. I knew he would want to play the hero and rush off to save that young fool Farinn. My men were waiting for him. He was captured and he is being held in the dungeons of the Aquins.”

  Raegar was lying when he said this. He did not know for certain his cousin was a prisoner; Raegar had yet to receive the report from the Watchers. He could not see how his plan could have possibly failed, however, and so he took the liberty of stretching the truth.

  Aylaen turned away from him. A tear trickled down her cheek. She whisked it away, but not before he had noticed. Jealousy twisted inside Raegar. He grabbed hold of her, yanked her around to face him. “You slept with Skylan, didn’t you?” He gripped her arm so hard she cried out in pain. “I said you looked like a whore. Now you act like one. Garn’s bed is scarcely cold before you jump into Skylan’s—”

  Aylaen’s nails flashed toward his eyes.

  “Stop it,” Raegar ordered, “or I will hit you again and next time I’ll break your jaw. Now sit down and listen to me!”

  He threw Aylaen at the stool. She missed and stumbled and fell onto the deck. He made no move to help her, stood waiting as she picked herself up. Aylaen’s green eyes smoldered. Her lip was starting to swell.

  “Skylan will find you and he will gut you like the pig you are,” she said.

  “He will have trouble finding me when he is locked in a cell,” said Raegar dryly. “I have gone to a great deal of trouble to find you, Aylaen. Aren’t you curious to know why?”

  “Go play with yourself,” said Aylaen.

  Raegar chose to ignore this. “You are greatly honored, Sister. The god Aelon has instructed me to bring you to the sacred temple in the mountain, there to stand before Aelon.”

  Aylaen gave a snort. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe it.” Raegar leaned back against the rail and smiled at her. “I have long desired you, Aylaen. You know that.” He gestured. “I am master of this ship. I could take you below and ravish you and no one would lift a finger to stop me.”

  His voice hardened. “Once I would have done it. I still desire you. But you are safe. I will not touch you. Why do you think that is?”

  Aylaen’s eyes flickered with uncertainty.

  Raegar looked out to sea. He drew in a deep breath and continued to speak, his voice soft with awe. “When I was made Priest-General, I came before Aelon. The god touched me, spoke to me, honored me. I vowed to Aelon I would be faithful to Treia and to our unborn son. I will not touch you. I will not harm you. Aelon commanded me to bring you to the mountain and I will do as my god commands.”

  “Why would your god want me?” Aylaen asked with seeming indifference. “I will be glad to tell Aelon what I think of a god who brings war to a people who have only ever known peace.”

  “Treia lost control of the Vektia dragon. You were the one who gained control and banished the dragon. You have the spiritbones. Three of them, if my spies are not mistaken.”

  “You and your god waste your time. I would never give the Five dragon bones to Aelon,” said Aylaen.

  “You don’t need to,” said Raegar. “Of course, if you did, Aelon would reward you. The god would give you whatever your heart desires. The god will see to it that you are not barren. The god will give you as many sons and daughters as you want.”

  Raegar had no idea where those words had come from. They had suddenly flashed into his head. He knew when he saw Aylaen’s pale face that it was the god who had spoken.

  “Aelon will even give you Skylan’s life,” Raegar said, pursuing his advantage. “Skylan will live long. His sons will be chief—”

  “His sons will be slaves,” Aylaen said, trying to sound defiant. Her voice trembled.

  “If you remain stubborn and refuse to give Aelon the spiritbones,” Raegar went on relentlessly, “the god will kill Skylan and keep you, the Kai Priestess, the only one who can bring the Five together, a prisoner. You will be locked up in the mountain fastness, alone, forever. Whether you are barren or not won’t matter.”

  Aylaen stared past him.

  “You have time to think things over,” Raegar said. “The voyage to Sinaria will take several days.”

  Aylaen did not answer.

  Pleased to think he had broken her at last, Raegar walked off. Before he went down to his cabin, he cast one last look at her.

  Raegar sighed deeply and turned away. He hoped Aelon honored him for his willpower.

  As Raegar sat alone in his cabin, he wasn’t thinking of Aelon or of his lovely sister-in-law. He was thinking of Treia, wondering if what Aylaen had told him was true. Was Treia a murderer? A liar? A wicked heretic who had turned in secret to a pagan god, promised him a sacrifice?

  Since Raegar was himself a murderer and a liar, he might have been more sympathetic. These are not qualities one looks for in a wife, however. Raegar loved Treia in his own way, as much as a selfish, arrogant, and power-hungry man could love anyone. He didn’t want to believe Aylaen. Yet her accusation explained a lot he had wondered about.


  He frowned deeply, stared at his hands, flexed his fingers.

  “I have to keep Treia around only until my son is born.” Raegar slowly clenched his fists. “Women often die in childbirth…”

  CHAPTER

  38

  The journey through the sea back to the Venjekar seemed the longest journey Skylan had ever taken in his life. Longer than the journey that had brought him from childhood to manhood. He cursed himself, blamed himself. Raegar had set a cunning trap, based on Skylan’s vainglorious need to be in the center of the action, and Skylan had rushed in with drums beating and banners flying.

  Raegar had ordered the Aquins to abduct Farinn, because he was an easy mark and because Raegar knew Skylan would try to save him, leaving Aylaen and the Venjekar with the spiritbones alone and unguarded. Skylan berated himself. If only he had let the Aquins undertake the rescue! If only he had stayed with Aylaen and his ship, as was his duty.

  “I am sorry, Torval,” Skylan prayed as they sped through the water, hanging on to the dolphins. “Once again, I have failed you. Please, do not punish Aylaen. Let this mistake fall on me!”

  He was relieved to see in the murky distance the red eyes of the dragon and the Venjekar, resting on the coral reef. His relief was short-lived. He and Farinn arrived to find the Aquin warriors in the midst of a desperate battle. The women had not forsaken their dead Queen. They surrounded her lifeless body, lying on the deck of the Venjekar, using spears and tridents to fend off ravenous sharks.

  Acronis fought with them, wielding a sword. Skylan searched the deck, but he could not find Aylaen. He told himself she might be down in the hold, but he knew better. She would never run from a fight. Then he saw that the sword Acronis was wielding was the blessed sword of Vindrash. He looked at the body of Queen Magali and saw the gaping wound in her breast. Skylan knew with dread certainty that something terrible had happened to Aylaen.