Commander Neda seized a spear from one of the Warrior-Priests. Queen Magali had her back to the commander. Aylaen shook her head frantically, desperate to make the Queen understand the danger. Aylaen even went so far as to start to take the breathing tube from her mouth. Queen Magali understood. She turned around to the woman who had been the commander of her guards for many years. The Queen did not speak. She did not have to. Her unspoken words burned in Aylaen’s heart.
You were more than the commander of my guards. I counted you a friend. Will you now betray me?
Commander Neda hesitated, then she pressed her lips tightly together and lunged, driving the spear into the Queen’s breast.
The breath rushed from the Queen’s mouth. She held fast to the spear for a moment, staring at the commander in sorrow. Blood billowed from the terrible wound. The Queen went limp in the water.
Aylaen broke free of her captors and took hold of the dying Queen. She yanked the spear from the Queen’s body and flung it away, then held the Queen in her arms. The Queen gazed at her. Her lips moved, but only blood and a faint trail of bubbles rose from her mouth, staining the sea.
The bubbles ceased. Her blood darkened the water.
Commander Neda stared down, white-faced, at the woman she had murdered. She seemed overwhelmed by the enormity of her action. The Warrior-Priests were dazed, shocked, with no idea what to do. With no thought of what she was doing, Aylaen yanked the breathing tube from her mouth to shout words that no one could hear.
See this! See what you have done in the name of Aelon! See and remember!
Commander Neda came to her senses. The water was filled with blood. Next, the water would be filled with sharks. She grabbed Aylaen and thrust the breathing tube into her mouth, slapping her when Aylaen tried to drag it out again. Neda handed her over to the Warrior-Priests. This time they bound her hands and her arms and then dropped a net over her. Whistling to dolphins, the Warrior-Priests swam away, dragging Aylaen with them.
Aylaen looked back to the Venjekar. The dragon’s red eyes blazed, bathing the Queen’s body in lurid light. Acronis, swimming out of the hold alone, the blessed sword of Vindrash in his hand, saw the body and stared in horror and shock, then searched frantically for Aylaen.
She whispered a prayer, many prayers. A prayer to Vindrash, who had protected the Vektia spiritbone. A prayer to Torval that Skylan was not dead. A prayer to the Sea Goddess to say she was sorry, so very sorry.
Sharks, scenting blood, were already circling.
CHAPTER 37
Raegar, resplendent in his new armor, marked with the symbol of the Priest-General, a serpent twined about a sword, walked the deck of his dragonship. The afternoon sun was hot, but he basked in the rays with the keen enjoyment of one who remembered the bitter bite of winter’s icy winds and the freezing darkness of long nights. He often reflected that it was Aelon’s promise of warmth and light which had first drawn him to the God of the New Dawn. Raegar did not in the least miss his home in the north. He longed to return, but only as conqueror.
Raegar noted, as he walked the deck, how the sailors and soldiers were careful not to cross his path. If forced by the necessity of their work to do so, they would cringe, beg his pardon, and remove themselves as swiftly as possible. Looking around, Raegar saw respect in every eye and he thought to himself that it was about damn time.
So often in the past Raegar had looked into men’s eyes and seen derision, disdain. His superiors had made use of him, even as they despised him. Xydis had laughed at Raegar behind his back, mocked him, promoted him so that Raegar could do the dirty work. Raegar had swallowed the insults and done their bidding, performed their demeaning tasks, soiled his own hands so that theirs would remain clean. He had all the while been faithful to his god and his god had rewarded him, giving Raegar the satisfaction of sweet revenge. His enemies in Sinaria had either fled before he could reach them or he had found them and they were now no longer a threat.
One enemy remained, an enemy that had no intention of fleeing. One enemy currently out of his reach. His cousin, Skylan Ivorson, who always seemed to find a way to make Raegar look bad in the eyes of both men and gods. A prime example was their last meeting. Raegar’s dragon, Fala, had abandoned him. His men had mutinied. He’d been forced to retreat, leaving Skylan the victor. Aelon had sent a kraken to drag Skylan to a watery grave, but Skylan had been saved by Aquins loyal to the Old Gods and he was again the victor.
This time, by Aelon, Raegar would be the victor.
The lookouts had been scouring the ocean, searching for those they were here to meet. One gave a cry and pointed out to sea. Raegar could see heads bobbing in the water. He raised his spyglass and put it to his eye. Two Aquins swam into view. He saw bald heads and serpent tattoos, Warrior-Priests. With Aelon’s blessing, they were here to deliver the goods.
Raegar directed the captain to sail toward them. This was the same captain, Anker, who had turned on Raegar their last voyage. Anker had since had a change of heart. He was now Raegar’s most loyal subject. He gave Raegar a respectful salute and shouted orders. Sailors jumped swiftly to obey. The Dragon Fala had returned to the dragonship. Treia had given Fala’s spiritbone to Raegar, with strict instructions on the proper way to summon the dragon. Treia had wanted to come, but Raegar would not hear of risking either his wife or the child she was carrying. Treia might have insisted, but the mere thought of swooping up and down on the waves made her nauseous. She had sent Raegar with her blessing and the reminder never to summon a fire dragon over water. The Dragon Fala invested the ship with wings, as it were, and Aelon’s Triumph, now flying the flag of the Priest-General, sailed swiftly toward the waiting Aquins.
“Do you have her?” Raegar bellowed as they drew near.
“We have her, Priest-General!” a Warrior-Priest shouted back.
The ship slowed as it circled the men in the water. Soldiers and others who had no duties lined the rail to catch a glimpse of the generally reclusive Aquins, curious to know what business the “fish people” had with their Priest-General.
At first they thought the Aquins were handing over a haul of fish, for they asked that the sailors lower a rope with a hook. They attached the hook to a large net. The sailors heaved on the rope and hauled in the net. Water ran from it, cascading onto the deck. They lowered the net and then opened it to reveal a woman. She had some sort of odd mask over her face. She pried this loose, then flung the net from her and rose to her feet, blinking in the sunshine.
“Greetings, my dear sister Aylaen,” said Raegar in pleasant tones.
In answer, his “dear sister” sprang at him, struck him in the chest, catching him off guard and sending him staggering. Aylaen ran past him, making a dash for the railing with the intention of jumping back into the sea.
Raegar roared a command and two men ran after Aylaen and dragged her back from the rail. They had hold of her by the arms. She kicked at them, trying to break free. The men on board the ship were grinning, for Aylaen’s flimsy gown clung wetly to her body and all on board were enjoying the view.
This included Raegar, who could not take his eyes from her. He had always lusted after Aylaen. He could have her, too. He was master of this ship. He had his own cabin down below. She would have to submit to him. She would have no choice. She might actually enjoy it. He had long suspected Aylaen had a secret yearning for him.
He licked his lips and was about to give the order for his men to take her below. Clearly his men were expecting this; perhaps they were hoping that when he finished, they would get his leftovers. Then he remembered-his vow to Aelon. He had sworn to be faithful.