“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.”
“If you are certain…” said Sigurd.
“Vindrash sent us this ship,” said Skylan. “It is a sign.”
“So be it,” said Sigurd. Then he asked the question that had been on everyone’s mind, though no one had mentioned it. “What do we do with Treia?”
“Throw her to the sharks,” Wulfe muttered.
“They would be better off throwing you to the sharks, acursed foe,” Treia hissed. The others had been so intent on their plans, they had not heard Treia emerge from the hold. She now walked slowly across the deck. With her weak eyes, she found it difficult to see where she was going. She was shivering in her wet priestess robes-robes that reminded everyone she was a traitor, a priestess for an enemy god. She had pulled her hair back and tied it behind her head. Her face was a pinched, rigid white mask with dark holes for eyes. Skylan decided that Keeper looked more alive.
Skylan was inclined to agree with Wulfe as to what to do with her, but he couldn’t. Aylaen would never forgive him. He glanced at Aylaen, assuming she would do what she had always done in the past: support her sister. He was surprised when Aylaen did not stir. She remained standing with her hand protectively on Wulfe’s shoulder. The men were looking at Treia and shifting uncomfortably. No one knew what to say.
“You are all fools if you think Vindrash sent you a ship!” Treia gave a contemptuous snort. She pointed her bony finger. “I will tell you who sent this ship. Death sent it and that is where this ship will take you! Raegar will find you. He is out there. He will find you.”
She folded her arms across her chest and stood defiantly, gazing into the thinning mist.
Sigurd walked over to Skylan, jerked a thumb at Treia. “Well, what about her?”
“Treia stays with us,” Skylan said, knowing even as he uttered the words, he would regret it.
“Good.” Sigurd grunted. “I’d sooner set sail with a hold full of vipers.” He hesitated, then said uneasily, “You don’t believe her, do you? What she said about the ship?”
“She speaks for a god who enslaved us,” said Skylan dismissively. He grinned at Sigurd. “Are you afraid of Raegar?”
Sigurd grinned back and replied with a fairly detailed account of what Raegar could do to himself, then began shouting orders.
The Torgun set to work. Some hauled supplies from the Venjekar’s hold to the ogre ship, which Sigurd had named Torval’s Fist, for the god’s hand had swept away the ogres. Others boarded the ogre ship to try, as Sigurd said, to figure out how the damn thing worked. The Vindrasi were accustomed to their sleek, swift dragonship, with its single mast and sail and banks of oars. The ogre ship was far larger, bulky and poorly built, with an odd-looking triangular sail and a rat’s nest of rigging. The ogres had not had time to put the oars into the water before they were attacked, apparently, for the oars had not been fitted into the oarlocks. The Vindrasi stared in dismay at the gigantic oars that would take two humans to wield even one, and prayed to Torval that the wind would hold.
Skylan was about to go onto the ogre ship to help.
Aylaen blocked his way.
“You think you’re going to send me with Sigurd,” she said with a defiant toss of her head. “Well, you’re not.”
“Aylaen-” Skylan began.
“I won’t leave, Skylan,” Aylaen said. “My wyrd is also bound to the Venjekar. I’m Bone Priestess now. You need me to summon the Dragon Kahg.”
Skylan led her off to the dragonhead prow where they could speak in private.
“You must take the spiritbone of the Vektia with you, Aylaen. No, wait, listen to me,” he said, seeing her eyes flash. “You will take the spiritbone and sail with Sigurd. I will draw off Raegar. He will come after me.”
“And he will kill you!” Aylaen said. “You said yourself he has fifty warriors on his ship!”
“He has to catch me first,” said Skylan, grinning. “I travel light. His fifty warriors make for a heavy load.”
“Be serious!” Aylaen said angrily.
“I am serious, Aylaen,” said Skylan. He took hold of her hands, looked into her eyes. “Vindrash sent the ship so that you could take the spiritbone to a place of safety.”
Aylaen let him keep hold of her hands, which astonished him. “The spiritbone is safe where it is. And so am I. I already told you, my wyrd is bound with the Venjekar.”
She walked off, leaving Skylan to stare after her, his wits so much sea foam.