Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [18]
Skylan’s head told him this was improbable, that the other two ships had likely sunk or were lost at sea in battle, but his heart wanted to believe. He imagined the ships attacking the Light of the Sea, warriors hurling spears and firing arrows to kill as many men as possible before they boarded the galley and finished off the rest.
He himself would kill Raegar. Skylan, chained up on the deck of the Venjekar, wasn’t certain how that would come about, but this was his dream and he gave himself his sword, Blood Dancer, which Raegar had taken from him. He put himself on board the galley where he single-handedly fought and killed Raegar, then rescued Aylaen, who would be so thankful that she would fling her arms around him and tell him she loved him. He would carry her back in triumph to the Venjekar, where he would be welcomed as a hero and men would once more call him Chief of Chiefs.
Skylan was jolted suddenly back to bleak reality. Aylaen and her sister, Treia, came walking up the gangplank of the Venjekar. The two were escorted by Raegar.
Treia cast a look of sullen defiance at the warriors, especially her stepfather, Sigurd, who shouted out, “You foul bitch! What are you doing here in the company of that traitor? You are no daughter of mine. You and your whore of a sister.”
“We are not your daughters!” Aylaen said scathingly, her green eyes flaring in the fading light. “A blessing for which we thank Torval daily!”
Aylaen put her arm protectively around Treia, and the two walked across the deck to the ship’s hold. Raegar pulled open the hatch and the two women descended down into the small cabin below. Aylaen paused before she went down to cast a sweeping glance around the deck. Her gaze found and fixed on Skylan.
He took this for a hopeful sign, but he was mistaken. Her narrowed, glittering eyes told him as clearly as words how much she hated him. When she was certain he understood her, when his gaze dropped beneath her withering fire, she made her way down the ladder.
Raegar remained on deck. Bjorn, Grimuir, and some of the other Torgun warriors took this opportunity to jeer at Raegar, calling him traitor and coward, saying his mother had rutted with a snake (a reference to the serpent tattoo on his head), hoping to goad him into a fight.
Skylan kept silent. He could have told them they were wasting their breath. Raegar grinned at the insults. He did not care what these people called him or what they thought of him.
But he does care what his men think of him, Skylan realized, watching as Raegar cast surreptitious glances at the soldiers guarding the Vindrasi, making certain they noticed how little attention he paid to the insults being hurled at him.
The faces of the soldiers were frozen, expressionless as long as Raegar had his eye on them. When he went down into the hold with Zahakis to make certain that all was secure with the women, the soldiers exchanged glances and one made a remark that caused the others to glower and nod. Skylan could not hear what was said, but he understood.
No man likes a traitor, even if he’s on your side, Skylan reflected. For you can never be sure he is on your side.
When Raegar returned to the deck, the Torgun greeted him with more insults.
Raegar now seemed annoyed.
“Tomorrow morning you will witness the power of Aelon,” he announced. His gaze swept over the Torgun and went to the soldiers, and he added sternly, “All of you.”
Raegar leaped over the side and splashed through the shallow water to where the galley, Light of the Sea, rode at anchor. Once he had gone, the soldiers looked at each other. Some snickered, others grinned and shook their heads. The Torgun fell glumly silent.
Skylan tried to go back to his daydream, but it had turned to ashes. The dream was stupid, a waste of time. His wrists and ankles were rubbed raw and bloody from his efforts to try to free himself from the manacles, efforts that had utterly failed.
His sword, along with the rest of their weapons, was stored in a locked chest in the hold of the Venjekar. Skylan took