7
Wulfe crouched protectively beside Skylan’s body, crowding as close to the corpse as he could without touching the armor, for it was made of iron. He and all the other fae folk hated iron; the metal burned their flesh. Wulfe couldn’t even stand the smell, which was like that of fresh blood, but for Skylan’s sake he endured it.
Wulfe kept a distrustful eye on his fellow passengers, especially the old Ugly, Acronis, and the young Ugly, Farinn. Wulfe had overheard the two talking when they thought he was sleeping. They said Skylan was dead and they were going to try to convince Aylaen to dump him into the sea.
Wulfe had feared Skylan was dead, too, right after the spear had hit him and he’d collapsed onto the deck in a pool of blood. The pain of his loss had been horrible for Wulfe, seeming to set his insides on fire and searing his soul as the iron seared his skin.
After finding Skylan dying on the ghost ship and nursing him back to health, Wulfe had come to believe that Skylan belonged to him. Wulfe’s duty was watch over his friend and he had failed and Skylan had died and gone to live with some stupid god in a hall filled with iron. Wulfe couldn’t bear to be without him. He’d already lost his mother, who long ago had visited him every night to sing lullabies to him, and now he’d lost Skylan.
“I’m going someplace where we don’t kill each other,” Wulfe had told the oceanids, who had clustered beneath the ship, expressing their sorrow and sympathy for their grieving prince.
He had planned to leave that night, jump into the sea and swim away with his friends, as soon as he was certain the Uglies were asleep, for he knew they would try to stop him. But while he was waiting, hiding in the darkness, he had seen and heard some things that made him realize Skylan wasn’t dead. He might not be alive, but he wasn’t dead.
Wulfe didn’t tell the Uglies what he had seen. He was afraid to tell them, because he knew he shouldn’t have seen what he saw. And besides, he reasoned, the Uglies wouldn’t believe him anyway. All he would tell them was that Skylan wasn’t dead.
“You don’t have to be sad anymore,” Wulfe had assured the three Uglies. “We just have to wait for him to come back to us.”
Acronis had looked grave. Farinn had walked away very fast. Aylaen had only stared at him with dull, empty eyes and gone over to stand beside the dragon.
“Why don’t you believe me?” Wulfe yelled at them, but none of them answered.
And the very next day, Acronis had started to talk in sad and solemn tones about throwing Skylan into the sea.
“You have to find Skylan,” Wulfe had told the oceanids. “You have to find him and bring him back!”
The fae loved gossip, especially if it had to do with the Uglies, and the exciting news that the oceanids were looking for a dead Ugly who wasn’t dead would flash among them with lightning speed. Wulfe took comfort in the fact that every oceanid, naiad, dryad and satyr, nymph, faun, and centaur, and maybe even such evil fae as ghouls and giants would be looking for Skylan. When they found him, he had ordered them to bring him back to where he belonged—with Wulfe.
* * *
While the fae were searching, Wulfe kept watch over Skylan during the day and slept near the body at night. If any of the Uglies came near, Wulfe bared his teeth and snarled at them, and the Uglies retreated.
The Uglies were all afraid of Wulfe, including Aylaen, even though she was fond of him. The Uglies had witnessed Wulfe’s inner daemons escape his control and turn him into a beast who ripped out throats and tore off limbs. Their fear made Wulfe unhappy, but he understood. He scared himself sometimes.
Aylaen was standing with Kahg this day, her back turned on the rest of them. She’d been standing beside the dragon all morning, not speaking, not moving, just staring out at nothing. She did not pay any attention to Wulfe or the other two Uglies. Wulfe kept a wary eye on all of them.
The young one, Farinn, was sitting with his back against a bulkhead, singing to himself. He’d been doing that all morning and it was starting to grate on Wulfe’s nerves.
“Quit that caterwauling!” he said to Farinn at last. “You keep singing the same notes over and over and they never go anywhere.”
Farinn blinked in astonishment. “I’m sorry. It’s just … I’m trying to compose Skylan’s death song and I can’t seem to find the words.”
“That’s because he’s not dead, fool,” Wulfe shouted at him. “I keep telling you—”
“Stop it, Wulfe!” Aylaen cried angrily.
Before he could react, she ran up behind him, dragged him to his feet, and slapped him across the face.
“He is dead!” Aylaen screamed, shaking him. “He is dead! He is dead!”
Wulfe stared at her in shock and she suddenly sank to her knees and held him close.
“I’m sorry, Wulfe!” she said. “The fault is not yours. It is mine. I have let our suffering go on far too long. Tonight, at sunset, we will give Skylan’s body to the Sea Goddess.”
She kissed him on the cheek where she had hit him, then slowly rose to her feet and walked back to stand with the dragon. Resting her head against the dragon’s neck, she gazed out over the waves.
Wulfe turned to growl at Farinn. “It’s all your fault! I hate you! I hate all of you! Do you know why we call you Uglies? It’s not your faces! It’s your hearts!”
Wulfe ran to the stern to talk to the oceanids. “Have you found him yet?”
The women shook their heads sadly, but promised to keep trying.
Until they found Skylan, Wulfe couldn’t let Aylaen throw him into the sea, for then he really would be dead. He knew he couldn’t stop her and Acronis, and Farinn wouldn’t stop her. That left only one other.
The Dragon Kahg.
Wulfe had been trying to summon the courage to talk to the dragon ever since that night when he’d seen what he’d seen. He was certain the dragon had seen it, too, because Kahg saw everything. Wulfe needed to talk to the dragon in private, however, and that meant getting rid of the Uglies.
The old Ugly had picked up his strange iron tools and was pointing them at the sky, while Farinn began making marks on a large piece of animal skin covered with dots and lines. Acronis had told Wulfe his iron tools could tell him where the ship was located on the animal skin.
This made no sense to Wulfe, who once had pointed out to Skylan that the ship was on the water, not on the animal skin. Skylan had laughed and said that Wulfe was the smartest person aboard the ship.
Remembering Skylan’s laughter made Wulfe feel the pain again. He scratched his head, trying to think of a way to get all the Uglies off the deck. A plan formed in his mind. The plan was drastic and might turn out to be a bad plan, but he didn’t have time to think of anything else. He glanced back at Acronis and Farinn, who were bent over the animal skin, and he looked at Aylaen, who was standing so still she might have turned into another figurehead.
Softly creeping on his bare feet, Wulfe slipped over to the hold, raised the hatch, and crawled partway down the ladder. He quietly lowered the hatch, then crept down the rest of the way. The hold was dark after being out in the bright sun and Wulfe kept still until he could see.
They had taken on food and fresh water before leaving the Aquin realm and the hold smelled strongly of fish. Wulfe didn’t like being down here. He didn’t like being anywhere that had walls. When his eyes adjusted, he padded softly among the jumble of barrels and stone jars, a large tangle of fishing net, a spare sail, the armor and weapons they’d brought with them from Sinaria, and sea chests where the Uglies kept their clothes and blankets so they wouldn’t get wet.
Giving Skylan’s sea chest a pat as he walked past it, Wulfe ventured deeper into the hold, searching for what Aylaen called the “rag bag.” Nothing ever went to waste among the Vindrasi. She cut shirts and stockings worn past mending into strips to be used for bandages and cloths for cleaning, stuffing them into a gunnysack she kept near her healing supplies.
Wulfe pulled out a handful of rags, piled them in a corner, and sprinkl
ed them with water. He cast a furtive glance back at the hatch to make certain no one was spying on him, then, bending over the damp rags, he worked his magic, chanting a rhyme his mother had taught him, saying it would be useful in case he ever needed to rid himself of a foe.
Hide me!
Hide me!
Blind their eyes.
Make them sneeze.
Make them wheeze.
Hide me!
Hide me!
Blind their eyes.
A multitude of sparks jumped from his fingertips and landed on the rags. Wherever the sparks hit, tendrils of gray smoke started to curl into the air. The blinding smoke would grow thicker and soon fill the hold. Wulfe had to hustle to return to deck before he got caught by his own magic.
He scrambled up the ladder, holding his breath to keep from coughing, jumped out on deck, and shut the hatch.
Seeing that no one was paying any attention to him, Wulfe sauntered across the deck, coming to stand close to the dragon, and waited, fidgeting, until he saw gray puffs start to float out of the hatch.
Leaning against the rail, Wulfe sniffed the air and said, “I smell smoke. Do you?”
Aylaen jumped as though he’d stabbed her in the ribs. Fire was the most feared danger on board ship. Whipping around, she saw the smoke that was now pouring out from beneath the closed hatch.
“Blessed Vindrash!” she gasped. “Fire!”
She ran toward the hatch. Farinn joined her. Acronis grabbed the water bucket and hurried after them. Aylaen lifted the hatch. Smoke billowed out, causing her to jump back. Acronis peered down.
“I don’t see any flames. I’m going down there.”
“I’m coming with you,” said Aylaen.
“Tie this over your nose and mouth,” said Farinn, handing them each some strips of sheepskin on which he’d been writing his song. They did as he suggested and the three of them plunged into the hold.
Wulfe heard them banging about below, coughing and bumping into things. He stood in front of the Dragon Kahg.
“You know Skylan’s not dead,” Wulfe said.
The dragon’s fiery red eyes swiveled around, catching Wulfe in their lurid glare.
“That night, after he died,” Wulfe continued, “I saw a woman take his soul. I recognized her. She was your goddess!” He pointed an accusing finger at the dragon.
Kahg’s red eyes narrowed. Wulfe could hear more bumping and thumping coming from the hold and the sound of muffled voices. Smoke continued to pour from the hatch.
“I heard you and the goddess talking,” Wulfe went on. “You talked about the spiritbones and the Great Dragon Ilyrion and how the spiritbones would cause the dragon to return to the world. I know about the great dragon. My mother told me stories. She said the great dragon ruled here before the gods of the Uglies came to kill her and steal the world from her. My mother said the great dragon liked us and was glad we came to live here.”
Kahg rolled his eyes and muttered something Wulfe couldn’t understand. He could see the smoke starting to diminish and he didn’t have much time.
“I have two questions, mighty Kahg. First, if the dragon comes back to kill all the Uglies, what will she do to my people?”
“How should I know?” Kahg demanded irritably.
Wulfe considered this a fair point.
“Next question. You know Skylan isn’t dead, don’t you?”
The Dragon Kahg did not respond.
“Why did your goddess take him?” Wulfe asked, growing desperate. “Where did they go? Is she going to send him back?”
The dragon’s eyes flared alarmingly.
“I don’t like little boys,” Kahg growled. “I especially don’t like fae little boys who set fire to my ship!”
“I didn’t set fire to your stupid old ship,” Wulfe retorted. “If you won’t answer my questions, at least promise that you won’t let Aylaen throw Skylan into the sea.”
The dragon’s red eyes closed and stayed closed for so long Wulfe thought he’d fallen asleep. The smoke was gone now. He could hear the Uglies coming up the ladder. Between coughs, they sounded angry. The Dragon Kahg suddenly opened his eyes.
“I promise,” he said.
Aylaen and the others emerged from the hatch, covered in soot, and took big gulps of fresh air.
Aylaen coughed again and fixed Wulfe with a irate gaze. “Wulfe, I want to talk—”
“You need a bath!” he cried, wrinkling his nose and he ran to the stern to keep as far as he could out of her reach.
Late that afternoon, a gray fog crept over the water and wrapped around the Venejekar. The wind died. The sea went flat. The fog shrouded the ship so that Wulfe, sitting beside Skylan’s body, lost sight of Aylaen, Farinn, and Acronis. All he could see were the red eyes of the Dragon Kahg and they looked strange and eerie.
Acronis was saying something to Aylaen and Farinn about the fog not being scientific or something like that when Wulfe heard the oceanids excitedly calling his name.
He twisted to his feet and went to the rail and leaned over very far to be able to see. The fog twined and twisted over the water. The oceanids were jumping from the waves crying out, “Your Highness, we found him!”
A dragonship festooned in seaweed glided close. Wulfe peered through the fog, straining his eyes, and after a moment he could make out the figure of an Ugly standing at the rail beside a god, who was short and fat and greasy looking.
“Skylan!” Wulfe cried joyfully. “Aylaen, come quick! Skylan’s here! I told you he wasn’t dead!”
He couldn’t see her, but he could hear Acronis remonstrating with her. “Aylaen, you have to do something about Wulfe. I am fond of the boy, but he did try to set fire to the ship—”
“I’ll go talk to him,” said Aylaen.
She seemed wrapped in fog. She was wearing a shawl over her head to protect her from the damp. She was pale, as though all the blood had been sucked out of her.
“Wulfe, you have to stop lying,” she said wearily.
“But it’s Skylan! On a dragonship,” said Wulfe, jabbing his finger in the direction of the boat. “Can’t you see him? He’s right there in front of you.”
Aylaen looked into the gray mist, sighed and said in a harsh tone, “We are burying Skylan tonight.”
She turned on her heel and started to walk away.
“Aylaen, don’t go! Skylan, say something to her!” Wulfe cried. “She thinks you are dead!”
“Aylaen,” Skylan called to her. “My beloved wife.”
Aylaen stopped walking. She looked back, over her shoulder. Acronis and Farinn came running.
“I heard the boy cry out. What is wrong?” Acronis asked.
“Wulfe says Skylan is out there in a boat,” said Aylaen.
“Aylaen…,” Acronis began in gentle tones.
“No, I didn’t believe him either, Legate, but then I heard his voice. Skylan’s voice. He spoke my name. I think Wulfe is right. Can you see anything? I can’t. The fog is too thick.”
Acronis stared into the mist. Farinn leaned out over the rail to try to see.
“He’s in a dragonship right in front of you!” Wulfe said crossly.
Acronis shook his head and frowned. Farinn drew back with a sigh.
“Their eyes are mortal, child of the fae,” said the fat god. “They can’t see us.”
Wulfe didn’t know this god. The Uglies had so many gods he couldn’t keep track, and he didn’t really care.
“Skylan, come back to us,” said Wulfe. “Your body is here waiting for you. I’ve missed you horribly. Nothing has gone right since you left.”
“I want to come back, Wulfe, more than anything,” said Skylan. “But I made a promise to Joabis that I would go with him to the Isle of Revels. My friends are there and I must talk to them.”
“He speaks the truth, Your Highness!” the oceanids said, splashing about beneath the keel. “We are taking him there. Tell her! Tell his wife! She must follow.”
Wulfe turned to Ay
laen. “Skylan is with a god named Joabis. They’re sailing to this god’s island to look for some of Skylan’s friends.”
“Aylaen, come away. You don’t have listen to this,” said Acronis.
“No, wait,” said Aylaen.
She stared into the mist, her eyes wide, intense, and unblinking.
“What friends?” she asked Wulfe.
“Tell her Sigurd and Grimuir, Bjorn and Erdmun,” said Skylan. “She will remember. I sent them back to our homeland to warn them about Raegar, but somehow their souls are with Joabis. I have to find out what happened to them and help them if I can.”
“I don’t know why you have to find them,” said Wulfe, scowling. He didn’t like Sigurd. “Good riddance.”
“Tell her what I said,” said Skylan, his voice grating.
“He says Sigurd and Grimuir and Bjorn and Erdmun,” said Wulfe. “Joabis has their souls.”
“Their souls?” Aylaen repeated, dazed. Shivering, she clasped the shawl around her tightly. “I think I must be going mad. I seem to hear his voice.…”
“Let me go to her!” Skylan begged Joabis.
“If you want to, I can’t stop you,” said Joabis. “But it won’t do any good.”
“Sail closer,” Skylan told the oceanids.
They pulled Joabis’s ship nearer to the Venejekar, so close that the hulls rubbed together. Skylan climbed over the rail into the Venejekar and walked up to Aylaen.
“My love, my wife, my own,” he said.
He kissed her.
At his touch, Aylaen gasped and put her hand to her cheek.
“Skylan!” she cried and reached out her hands, grasping the fog, letting the shawl slip to the deck.
“You promised to come with me, Skylan Ivorson!” Joabis shouted. “You cannot stay.”
“The Dragon Kahg knows the way, Aylaen,” said Skylan, returning to Joabis’s dragonship. “I will be waiting for you!”
“I’ll come, Skylan!” Aylaen promised. “I will find you!”
The oceanids pulled the dragonship away. Skylan stood on the deck, watching Aylaen until his ship vanished in the mist.
“He is gone, isn’t he,” Aylaen murmured. “And I must follow.”
She turned and ran across the deck, calling to the dragon. “Kahg, the ship bearing Skylan. Joabis’s ship. Go after them!”
Doom of the Dragon Page 7