Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [78]
But soon, as the matches started, the blood warmed and spirits rose. The warriors began to enjoy the competition, though it soon became apparent that the long period of forced inactivity aboard ship had taken its toll. Their muscles had grown flabby and weak, their skills diminished. Erdmun, who had never before been able to beat anyone in wrestling, took down Grimuir, much to Erdmun’s elation.
Sigurd bullied and harangued and shamed them. He and Skylan fought a few rounds. Some Skylan won and some Sigurd won. The fight ended in a draw. No one cheered for Skylan, but he had the feeling that was because no one wanted to offend Sigurd. The cheers came at the end, when both men stood up, sweating and breathing hard, and shook hands.
Aylaen held herself apart, watching with an envious expression. Vindrasi women often held wrestling matches among themselves, and Aylaen had always enjoyed the sport. A woman wrestling a man was considered unseemly. She was the one who saw the soldiers approaching, and she called out a warning.
Skylan looked up the hill to see Zahakis, accompanied by four archers and eighteen soldiers, all of them armed. By the grim expression on the Tribune’s face, something was wrong.
Zahakis gestured to his soldiers. “You men, search the ship and those tents.”
The archers stood in front of the Torgun with bows raised, ready to shoot. Skylan wondered what this was about. The soldiers entered the tents and almost immediately came back out. They took more time searching the ship, going down into the hold, opening up the sea chests.
“The boy!” Zahakis said, staring around at the warriors. “Where is he?”
Skylan was startled. “I was going to ask you the same thing. The last I saw, Raegar’s men were hauling Wulfe off to prison.”
“They never made it,” said Zahakis. “If you have the boy, Skylan, hand him over.”
“He’s not here,” said Skylan. “I have not seen him. What do you mean, ‘they never made it’? What happened to Wulfe?”
Zahakis turned to the rest of the Torgun. “If you men are lying or trying to hide him, it will go bad with you. With all of you.”
The men glanced at each other and said nothing.
Zahakis eyed them, then turned to Aylaen. “Have you seen him?”
Aylaen shook her red curls. “I saw Raegar take him away. I have not seen him since.”
Skylan was growing exasperated. “I tell you that Wulfe is not here. What has happened to him?”
Zahakis was watching his soldiers. The two who had gone into the hold came back up, shaking their heads.
“The two guards were found dead,” said Zahakis grimly. “Weltering in their own blood. Their throats had been slashed, their faces mauled so that it was hard to recognize them. One of the men had his arm torn off at the shoulder.”
“And the boy?” Skylan asked in fear, his heart constricting. He had not realized until now how much he had come to care for the waif he’d found on that ill-fated voyage to the Druid Isles. “What about him? Was he hurt?”
“The boy is missing. Raegar accuses Wulfe of murdering his guards.”
Skylan stared at the man. He looked back at the other Torgun, who were slack-jawed in amazement. Then the warriors gave a great roar of laughter.
“You know our secret. Wulfe is our most valiant warrior,” said Skylan. “When we go into battle, we send the boy out first to do the killing. We men just come along behind him to mop up.”
Zahakis was not amused. “I saw the bodies of those men, what was left. I have seen men hacked to pieces on the field of battle and not blenched. But I will remember this horror to the day I die. It was not some gang or roving band of thieves murdered those men. It was some fiend of hell. Or rather, some beast from hell. We found bloody paw prints all around the bodies.”
“Because his name is ‘Wulfe’ you have let your imagination run away with you,” said Skylan. He was starting to grow angry. “The boy may be lying dead somewhere and you waste time