Bones of the Dragon - Margaret Weis [232]
Skylan clenched his fists. “I challenge you! Fight me!”
Raegar threw back his head and gave a loud roar of laughter, as did the men who had gathered around the hold.
Skylan burned with fury. “All of you!” he shouted. “I will take on all of you. Your swords. My bare hands!”
The soldiers thought this funny, and they laughed louder, saying something about “caged beasts.”
“While that might prove amusing, especially to my men, the Tribune would not like it,” said Raegar. “You see, Cousin, you’re his property. A valuable commodity. The Tribune would be most displeased if you were damaged.”
Skylan began to understand. It was like peering through the slits in the planks. He could only see a part of the truth, but for the moment, that was enough. His gut shriveled. Death did not frighten him. This did.
“What do you mean?”
“By Aelon, you are dense, Cousin,” said Raegar. “Fortunately no one in Oran is in the market for brains, these days. Only brawn. How shall I put it? Instead of calling you Chief of Chiefs, Skylan Ivorson, from now on, men will call you Slave of Slaves!”
The soldiers grinned appreciatively at their commander’s jest.
Raegar glanced around at them and frowned. “Are the other warriors secure? Was anyone slain?”
“No, Revered One. The men were taken without a fight. A few had to be knocked unconscious, but they will recover.”
“What of the two sisters?”
The blood pounded in Skylan’s ears. He had to calm himself to hear the answer.
The soldier grinned. “One fought like a catamount. It took three of us to subdue her, and we have the scratches to prove it! We finally threw a sack over her head, half-stifling her, and eventually she calmed down. The other female did not fight us. She is half-blind, it seems. Still, I do not trust her. There’s something strange about her. She’s more dangerous than her wildcat sister, or so I would guess.”
“What of the spiritbone?” Raegar demanded. “Did you recover it?”
“We found no bones except those of the dead men, Revered One. The woman claimed it was lost.”
Raegar scowled, displeased. “She is lying. She must be hiding it somewhere.”
“What do we do with the prisoners, Revered One?”
“The women are to be conveyed to the Tribune’s ship. Bring the men on board the dragonship. Chain them to the oars. How long will repairs take?”
“Not long, Revered One. We should be able to sail when the tide returns.”
“Good. Get to work.”
“What about the brat? What do we do with him?”
Raegar glanced down into the hold. “Toss him down there with little Skylan.”
The soldier shouted, and two men came forward, bearing Wulfe between them. One side of his face was bruised, one eye swollen shut. The soldiers flung him into the hold. Wulfe landed sprawled on the deck, and he blinked up at Skylan groggily.
“I’m sorry,” Wulfe said. “I was going to warn you.”
“It’s all right,” said Skylan quietly. He looked up at Raegar, who was shutting the trapdoor. “You have come back from the dead two times, Raegar. When you and I meet, that will be the end. There won’t be a third.”
“When you and I meet, Cousin, you will be on the auction block, and I will be collecting my share of your selling price,” Raegar replied.
He dropped the trapdoor shut. Skylan heard the barrel being rolled over it.
He closed his eyes and slumped down on the deck. He gazed into the darkness, trying to see a way out, but there was only darkness. He put his hand to the amulet, Torval’s axe, he wore around his neck. The silver was cold to the touch. He let his hand fall. He wondered suddenly what had become of his sword, Blood Dancer. The last he had seen, the sword was spiraling down through the heavens. Much like himself.
“Someone’s here,” Wulfe said tensely.
Skylan opened his eyes, bracing for a fight.
Garn, dressed in his armor and carrying his sword and shield, stood before him.
Skylan was not surprised to see his friend, his brother. Nothing surprised him anymore.
“Can