Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [156]
“The weapon is valuable. Did the druids keep it? Tell me, what happened to it?” He was almost frantic with worry.
Wulfe pointed a jabbing finger at something. Skylan saw a blanket and the faint outline of a sword beneath it. He gave a huge sigh of relief. Clasping the amulet at his neck, he thanked Torval.
“I will leave the sword where it is,” he told the boy. “You do not need to be afraid.”
Keeping a wary eye on the blanket, as though fearful the sword might somehow wriggle out, Wulfe helped Skylan to climb the ladder.
Once on deck, Skylan was disappointed to find that the ship had sailed into a fog bank. He could not see the top of the mast, much less the sun. He could barely tell fore from aft.
Skylan drew in a deep breath. The air was thick and moist, but it was a welcome change from the stinking, fetid air below. He sat down on a sea chest. He could feel the dragon’s eye on him, but he didn’t look up.
“I want to bathe,” said Skylan. “Will you fetch me water and my clothes? You will find clean ones in my sea chest.”
Wulfe wrinkled his nose, indicating he agreed, and ran below. Skylan sat resting, a lone figure on the empty deck. The dragonship moved slowly, sluggishly through the fog. The sail was furled. Skylan saw that the rudder had been lashed in place. He was puzzled by this, wondered if the boy had done it.
Skylan’s sea chest had no lock on it. Wulfe returned with Skylan’s clothes and boots. He lowered a bucket attached to a rope into the sea and hauled it back up, sloshing much of it over his bare feet. Skylan rinsed off the dried blood and filth, gasping at the cold water and wincing at the sting of the salt on his fresh wounds. He finished by dumping a second bucket of water over his head, washing his hair and new growth of beard.
Bathed and dressed, Skylan felt better. Wulfe brought dried meat and fruit and the rock-hard brown bread that kept a long time before going moldy. As he and Wulfe shared the meal, Skylan eyed the Dragon Kahg, barely able to see the dragon’s head through the thick mists.
Skylan needed to know where he stood. He had to find out what the dragon knew and if Kahg blamed him for Draya’s death and, if so, what the dragon intended to do about it. Skylan took some comfort from the fact that he was still alive.
Torval had again healed him, spared his life. The god had forgiven him. Hopefully the dragon would, too.
Skylan walked over to where the spiritbone hung suspended on the leather thong. The bone swayed gently back and forth with the motion of the ship. Skylan had never before spoken with the dragon. He was not even certain if he could. As he had told Wulfe, communicating with the dragons was the province of the Bone Priestess.
The thought brought Draya to mind, and guilt and remorse twisted inside him like a sword in his gut. He had brought her to that horrible place. He had brought her to her terrible death. He remembered Draya leaning against the dragon’s carved neck, and he remembered her final words to him. She was sorry she had wronged him.
Skylan placed his hand on the spiritbone and said in a low, harsh voice, not looking at the dragon, “Where are you taking me?”
It was Wulfe who spoke.
“The dragon says he is taking you to Luda.”
“This is serious,” Skylan snapped. He stopped, glanced back at the boy. “How did you know about Luda?”
“I don’t know anything about Luda,” said Wulfe. “What is Luda anyway?”
“Luda is my home,” said Skylan.
“Then that’s where we’re going. The woman told the dragon to take you there.”
“Who is this woman you keep talking about?”
“That woman,” said Wulfe, and he pointed.
Startled, Skylan swiftly turned.
A draugr stood behind him.
Most dead slept peacefully in their graves, but there were those who sometimes left their tombs to walk among the living. These walking corpses were known as draugrs, and the Vindrasi feared them, for draugrs hated the living and often went on murderous rampages.