Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [49]
Was he the only one who understood that their predicament was hopeless? They had no dragon to lend his spirit to the ship, carry it over the sea. They were a long way from land with only a vague notion of their location in this vast ocean. Their numbers were far fewer than they needed to row the ship. They were weak from being chained to the deck for days and eating nothing but fish paste. And, not far off, Zahakis walked the deck of the war galley, with two hundred rowers, rested and well-fed.
Skylan sighed deeply. No good would come of cursing the darkness. He buckled on the sheepskin sheath that he’d had specially made for his sword, sheathed the fine weapon, and felt better. He went back up on deck to seek out Aylaen, who was standing at the rail, staring across the water at her sister. Skylan motioned her to walk with him, away from the others, over to the ship’s prow. She went, but she made it clear by her stiff back and rigid posture that he was to keep his distance.
Skylan spoke in a low voice, so that the men did not overhear. “Aylaen, does Treia have the spiritbone? Did she take it with her?”
“No, of course not!” said Aylaen, rounding on him angrily. “If she did, don’t you think she would have asked the dragon to help us?”
Skylan looked across the sea at the war galley. He could see Raegar on deck, Treia standing beside him. Aylaen saw his gaze go to her sister on the enemy ship, and Aylaen’s eyes flared.
“You think she’s a traitor, too!”
“Aylaen . . .” Skylan began in mollifying tones.
“She doesn’t have the spiritbone. I know she doesn’t because we searched for it! Both of us!” She added in a choked voice, “You know as well as I do that if the Dragon Kahg wanted us to have the spiritbone, we would not need to search at all. Face it, Skylan. The dragon has abandoned us. The gods have abandoned us!”
She lowered her head, blinking her eyes rapidly.
“Aylaen—”
“And it’s your fault!” she cried.
“I know it is,” said Skylan, his voice somber. “But that thread has snapped and I can’t tie it back together, no matter how much I want to. I need you to forget about blaming me. I need you to forget about your sister. She made her choice and it was hers to make. I need you to be a warrior, Aylaen. You will have to stand guard over the Legate. All the men will be needed at the oars.” He handed a sword to her, wrapped in its sheath. “I found it in the hold.”
Aylaen wiped her eyes and, taking hold of the sheath, drew out the shining steel blade with its worn ivory hilt, the sword that she had found in the temple of Vindrash. The goddess had given the sword to Aylaen, or so Aylaen believed. Her hand closed over the hilt. The sword was smaller than a man’s, weighted to suit a woman.
She hefted the sword and gazed at Skylan, then shifted her gaze to Sigurd. She called out to him, “I will guard the Legate, Chief. You need all the men for rowing.”
Sigurd waved his hand in approval. Aylaen thrust her sword into the sheath and buckled it around her waist. She turned on her heel, without a word, and walked across the deck to where Acronis sat on his collapsible stool, his arms bound behind him, his feet tied at the ankles.
He watched Aylaen walk toward him, regarded her with a bemused smile. “You won the day for them. Stabbing your captor like that took courage and a cool head. Are all the barbarian women trained in the art of warfare?”
Aylaen shook back her red curls. “I would like very much to jab my sword into someone’s belly right now,” she said, her voice grating. “If I were you, I would keep my mouth shut.”
The Legate raised an eyebrow. Skylan was going to take his place at the tiller, but first he stopped to make certain their captive was securely bound.
“I take it you are using me as a hostage,” said Acronis. “You will kill me if Zahakis attempts to recapture the ship.”
“Something like that,” Skylan answered.