Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [50]
“Your plan was brilliant and well-executed,” the Legate said. “I would be interested to know how you managed to get hold of the key to the manacles from Zahakis.”
Skylan could have said he was interested in knowing the same thing. That made him remember Wulfe and he realized he had not seen the boy since the fighting began.
“You did make one mistake,” Acronis added.
“What was that?” Skylan asked.
“You should have killed Zahakis. He has been the commander of my forces for many years and he is very loyal. He will come after you.”
“I am counting on that,” said Skylan.
Acronis frowned, puzzled.
“Zahakis is so loyal,” said Skylan coolly, “that when I bind you with chains and throw you into the sea, he will stop his pursuit to try to save you.”
Skylan went back down into the hold, yelling for Wulfe. He found the boy hiding in an empty barrel.
All that day, the Venjekar crawled over the water. Skylan took his turn at the oars, sending Erdmun to man the tiller.
The gods were not only disinclined to help them, the gods seemed to be actively working against them. The sun goddess, Aylis, beat on them relentlessly. Svanses held her breath. Akaria caused her waters to roll sluggishly beneath the keel.
The men stripped bare to the waist, wearing only their trousers. Sweat rolled off their bodies and dripped from their hair and beards. Days of inactivity and poor food had weakened their muscles and drained their stamina. But every man, whenever he grew weary, looked at the chains that had once bound him and found new strength.
The Light of the Sea was far behind them, but not as far as they had hoped. Zahakis was an able commander and he had managed to drag his soldiers out of the sea and put an end to the crew’s confusion and fear over the loss of the Legate. He ordered the rowers to the oars and the war galley was able to chase after the Venjekar after only a brief loss of time. Not only that, the galley was making better time than they were.
Every man on board the Venjekar could see that the trireme was slowly gaining on them.
“If only we had the dragon,” the Torgun said.
Wulfe heard the men talk about the dragon. He heard their prayers to the dragon goddess, Vindrash, and he didn’t know what to do. He had overheard Skylan talking to Aylaen about the spiritbone. That was when he’d decided to run and hide in the empty water barrel.
He knew where the spiritbone was—it was secreted in his little cache in the bulkhead right under the dragon’s nose. The spiritbone had come to him—Skylan had said so. The dragon wanted him to have it.
Well, maybe.
Wulfe wasn’t exactly sure about that. Perhaps the dragon had wanted Aylaen or Treia to have it and Wulfe had just stumbled upon it by accident. In that case, he had taken what didn’t belong to him and he was certain to get into trouble. Skylan might punish him by making him clean his sword again.
Still, Wulfe thought, Skylan and the others might be so glad to have the spiritbone and the dragon that they wouldn’t be mad.
Wulfe spent the day dithering. He watched the men working and suffering at the oars, sweating in the bright sun. The war galley that looked like an ugly snapping turtle with a hundred legs crawled inexorably toward them. Wulfe made up his mind.
Wulfe could not possibly walk across the deck with the eyes of everyone on him and retrieve the bone. Everyone on board the ship would know about his hiding place, and while he liked some of the Uglies, such as Skylan and Bjorn and Aylaen and maybe Farinn, there were others, such as Sigurd and Grimuir, Wulfe didn’t like one bit. The only two Uglies he trusted were Skylan and Aylaen, and Wulfe’s trust in them went only so far. Skylan had made the boy clean his sword and the iron had burned him. Aylaen was Treia’s sister and Wulfe hated Treia and Aylaen told Treia everything. Wulfe had eavesdropped on the sisters enough to know.
Wulfe decided to wait until darkness fell, when everyone would be asleep. The chase would come to a halt at night, for the rowers on both ships would have to rest.
The sun was still a blood-red