CHAPTER

12

BOOK THREE

Garn!” said Sigurd, amazed. “Garn’s dead.”

The wind rose. The branches of the trees creaked and swayed, leaves rustled. If there had been dryads in those trees, they would have been chattering excitedly about the coming of the ogres, for this wind had been sent by the Gods of Raj to fill the sails of the ogre ships and drive them toward their destination.

Skylan felt the wind blow on his face. He smelled the salt tang in the air. “I will stay with Aylaen,” he said.

She told her story, keeping it short, mindful of time.

“Raegar promised me that Aelon could bring Garn back to life if I would tell him the ritual to summon the Vektan dragon. . . .”

The men stared at her in dazed shock. Garn’s spirit a prisoner. A Vektan dragonbone. It was too much to comprehend. They looked at each other, troubled. Skylan knew what they were thinking because he was thinking it himself.

We don’t have time for this. We must run to our ship now, make good our escape. The Torgun stand together. We leave no one behind. But Garn would understand. He would not want us to lose this chance for our freedom because of him. As for the spiritbone of the Vektia, what can we do? It is beyond our reach.

Skylan could see in his mind’s eye the triangular sails of the ogre ships, white in the moonlight. Soon, the lookouts on the watchtowers along the harbor would see them and they would raise alarm.

The Vektan Five . . .

Five dragonbones. Every night, the goddess threw down five dragonbones. Five together. The Torgun stand together.

Understanding struck Skylan like a thunderbolt, bursting upon him in a shower of sparks and sizzling flame.

“Garn is right,” he said to himself in amazement. “I do know the secret.”

And he knew, horror-struck, the appalling danger. He knew what Treia and Raegar planned to do as surely as if they had told him. He knew why they had tried to force Aylaen to find out the secret to the summoning of a Vektan dragon. The secret!

Treia had told Aylaen she knew the ritual. Perhaps she did. But she didn’t know the secret.

“Carry the Venjekar to the river and make ready to sail. Aylaen and I will free Garn.”

“What about the spiritbone?” asked Bjorn.

“The less said, the better,” Skylan replied, glancing at the priestess. Semelon was watching them, listening to every word they said. She had the power to speak to her god, warn Aelon. Skylan supposed he could kill her, silence her permanently, but in a way he owed her. If it had not been for her summoning Garn, he would have never solved the puzzle.

“What’s going on?” Erdmun asked. “What’s Skylan doing?”

“Gods have ears,” Sigurd said, jerking a thumb at the priestess. “Now get moving.”

Skylan motioned to Sigurd as the men moved off.

“Aylaen and I will try to join you, but if we haven’t reached the ship by the time you are ready to sail, you must leave without us.”

To Skylan’s surprise, Sigurd shook his head. “I will wait for you.”

“The ogres will attack at dawn,” said Skylan. “If we’re not back by then, we won’t be coming back. Take the Venjekar out to sea and put as much distance between this city and yourselves as you can.”

Sigurd hesitated, then thrust out his hand. “Torval walk with you.”

Skylan clasped the older man’s hand. “You are my father’s best friend. Tell him I am sorry for the trouble I brought him.”

Sigurd grinned. “I will tell him that his brat finally grew up.”

He began shouting at the others, who were moving slowly, berating them for laggards. The men set off at a run.

“Thank you for coming with me to free Garn,” Aylaen said. “Maybe we could find Treia. . . .”

We have to find Treia, Skylan thought. He hoped they were going to save Treia. He didn’t like to think what would happen if Treia didn’t want to be saved.

“The priestess spoke the truth,” said Aylaen with a sigh. “It’s my fault. I forged the chains Garn wears.” She glanced at Semelon and frowned. “What do we do with her? She’ll warn her god—”

“Warn him of what? That a bunch of slaves are going to escape?” Skylan smiled and shrugged. “Aelon has his hands full. A few thousand ogres and their gods are about to descend on him. We’ll take the priestess with us. She might be useful.”

He was about to start off when he caught sight of Wulfe lurking about in the shrubbery. He had forgotten about the boy.

“You should go with Sigurd, back to the ship,” said Skylan. His voice was cold and he knew it. He couldn’t help himself. He found it hard to look at the boy and not see the beast.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” Wulfe said, his lip quivering. “I did what you asked. I found the priestess. And I didn’t kill her!”

“I know,” said Skylan, sighing. “It’s going to take time for me to get used to the idea of you being a . . . a man-beast. Like it took time for you to get used to living with Uglies—”

He paused. The word stirred a memory. He took hold of Wulfe by the shoulders, said swiftly, “You told me Treia was praying to a god on board our ship. A god of the Uglies. Do you know the god’s name?”

Wulfe thought back. “No,” he said. “But I smelled smoke and it was really hot.”

“Hevis,” said Skylan. “Hevis told Treia the ritual.”

Wulfe slipped from his grasp and ran to Aylaen, hoping, probably, that if he kept clear of Skylan, he wouldn’t be sent back.

“Where are you going?” Keeper asked. “What is your plan?”

Skylan had assumed Keeper had gone off on his own. He looked at him in wonder.

“What are you doing here? If my people were sailing their ships into the harbor, I would be halfway to the dock by now, ready to greet them when they land.”

“And if I had a ship of my own I would be sailing away,” said Keeper. “How long do you think you will survive in a city overrun by ogres?”

“I’m planning to be out of here long before they attack,” said Skylan.

Keeper shook his head and thrust out his lower lip.

“Humans think ogres are stupid.”

Having been guilty of that himself, Skylan didn’t know what to say. He had no idea what Keeper was talking about.

“We chose this night to invade.” Keeper tilted back his head, looked up into the sky. “Why do you think we did that?”

Keeper’s eyes glittered in the bright moonlight, and Skylan understood.

“The ogres won’t wait for dawn to attack!”

“Of course we won’t,” Keeper muttered, grumbling. “We’re not stupid. They will gut you as they would any other human. Unless I am with you.”

Skylan shook his head. “Thank you, my friend, but it’s too dangerous—”

Keeper brushed that away with a wave of his large hand. “I owe you. You saved my life.”

“No, I didn’t,” said Skylan, astonished.

“I was dead inside,” said the ogre. “You made me see that. Now, again, what is the plan?”