Night’s darkness was gone. The sun had risen, seemingly, though the Sun Goddess, Aylis, remained hidden beneath a blanket of fog. Angry at himself for having fallen asleep on watch, Skylan was about to push himself to his feet when he felt something hit the Venjekar and saw the prow of an ogre ship loom out of the fog and bump gently into the Venjekar’s hull.
Skylan froze. His first impulse was to shout the alarm. He hesitated, waiting to see what happened.
Nothing happened. No ogre watchman shouted a warning. No ogre godlord came running to see what was going on. The ogre ship rubbed up against the Venjekar like an affectionate cat.
Thinking that perhaps the ogres had all fallen asleep, just as he and his men had fallen asleep, Skylan slowly stood up, trying to move as silently as possible. The segmented, metal Sinarian armor rattled and clashed. Gritting his teeth at the noise that was as loud as a thunder strike in his ears, he tried to steal quietly across the deck to wake his men one by one.
Sigurd and Grimuir and Bjorn woke instantly, needing only a few words to understand the situation. Erdmun shrugged him off and tried to go back to sleep. His brother kicked him. Farinn jumped and stared at him in confusion. Acronis had awakened at the sound of Skylan moving about and had already drawn his sword. Wulfe, panic-stricken at the sight of the weapons, was shaking Aylaen. She rubbed her eyes and gazed blearily at him.
Skylan put his lips to her ear to whisper, “Ogre ship. Off the bow.”
Aylaen could see for herself. She tried to stand. Skylan took hold of her hands to help her. Her fingers were cold and he clasped her hands fast, trying to warm them. Their eyes met and held for a moment until she lowered her eyes in confusion and drew back.
“You should go into the hold,” said Skylan softly without thinking. He couldn’t think, not when he could still feel her touch. “Take Wulfe with you.”
“And get us murdered!” the boy cried shrilly. “Treia’s down there!”
The men rounded angrily, glaring at Wulfe for talking so loudly. Aylaen swiftly muzzled him, clapping her hand over his mouth.
“I won’t hide in the hold!” Aylaen whispered stiffly, not looking at Skylan. “You said I was a warrior, like the others.”
He hesitated, trying to think of something to say to make up for his blunder.
“Skylan!” Sigurd hissed. “Get your butt over here!”
“You better go,” said Aylaen in hushed frozen tones.
Skylan left, cursing his clumsy tongue, wondering why he always managed to say the wrong thing when he spoke to her.
“Any sign of ogres?” he asked.
Sigurd shook his head. “Damn strange, if you ask me. And take a look at this ship.”
The ogre ship was larger than the Venjekar, more massive. Vindrasi dragonships were sleek, lightweight, designed for speed. Ogres ships were designed to carry ogres, a single one of whom weighed as much as two or three full grown human men. Ogres were not known for their seamanship, nor for their shipbuilding. Looking at the hull of the huge ship wallowing sluggishly in the water, Skylan wondered how it had managed to survive the long voyage from the ogre kingdom to Sinaria. The hull was covered with what looked like runes that had been burned into the wood. Perhaps the Gods of Raj had used their magic to keep it afloat.
The ship was much taller than the Venjekar, which sat low in the water. Skylan could not see the deck from this vantage point. He caught a glimpse of the tip of the boom in the swirling fog and then it vanished.
“I don’t think anyone’s on board,” said Bjorn.
“Anyone alive,” Wulfe said ominously.
The Torgun were nervous. Given a choice, they would be much happier fighting for their lives against an army of ogres. None of them wanted anything to do with a ship sailing the seas without a crew.
Skylan didn’t like this any better than his men. He could still feel the touch of the goddess, hear her voice. He remembered walking across that cold battlefield, the smell of smoke in his nose, the bodies of the little children …
“Shove the accursed thing off!” said Sigurd, picking up an oar.
“No, don’t,” said Skylan. “I’m going on board. Who’s coming with me?”
Sigurd muttered something unintelligible and spit in the water.
“The bastards could be hiding, ready to ambush us,” Grimuir pointed out.
“We’d smell their stench,” said Skylan.
“I can’t smell myself in this damn fog,” said Erdmun.
“I can smell you,” said Skylan, grinning.
Some of the men chuckled nervously at this. Sigurd grunted and shook his head, unamused.
“I’ll come with you,” Acronis offered. He added with a smile, “I have never been aboard a ghost ship.”
If he meant that as a jest, no one laughed.
Thick lengths of rope hanging from the ship’s bow trailed in the water. Skylan took hold of one of the ropes and pulled himself up, hand-over-hand, until he reached the upper deck.
Hidden in the eerie fog, he peeped over the rail before boarding the ship. The deck was empty, at least as far as he could see in the mist. Cautiously, he swung himself up and over the rail and landed on the deck, sword in hand. He roamed the ship, went down into the hold, and came back up on deck.
He was the only living being on board.
The fact did not bring him much comfort. If no one was alive, who had been sailing the ship?
He went back to the rail to hail the Venjekar and realized with a start the fog was lifting. He could see his ship. He was almost eye-to-eye with the Dragon Kahg. Below him he could see everyone gathered on the deck. Aylis, the sun goddess, was burning away Torval’s miracle. They didn’t have much time.
Skylan reached out a hand to assist Acronis, only to find Acronis did not need help. He climbed up the rope almost as nimbly as had Skylan.
“Not bad for an old man, eh?” Acronis said, guessing what Skylan was thinking. “Zahakis insisted that I keep in training. He used to say, ‘I will not serve a man who cannot see his feet past his belly.’”
“There is no one aboard, Legate. No bodies, no blood. What do you think happened to the ogres?”
Acronis walked the deck, gazed around. “They weighed the anchor and sailed off in haste. The lines we climbed had been tied to the pier. The ogres cut them and fled, leaving the ropes to drag in the water.”
“Ogres are bad sailors,” said Skylan.
“Not that bad,” said Acronis dryly. “Look here. And here. And here.” He pointed to parts of the bulkhead that were charred black. “I think this ship was attacked by that dragon. What did you call it?”
“Vektia dragon, sir,” said Skylan grimly.
“The ogres were terrified and jumped overboard.”
“Then they jumped to their deaths,” Skylan said. “Ogres sink like rocks.”
“True,” said Acronis, adding quietly, “Given a choice between the dragon and drowning, they chose drowning.”
“But then who was sailing this ship?” Skylan asked.
Acronis smiled, amused. “Ghost ships are a myth.”
“You are a wise man, but I know better, sir,” said Skylan. “I once sailed on a ghost ship.”
“You must tell me that tale sometime,” said Acronis with interest. “As to how the ship came to be here, that is no great mystery. The wind and the waves carried the ship farther out to sea.”
Skylan thought this over, then realized he already knew who was sailing this ship. The same god who had sailed the ghost ship on which he had sailed. He stood for a moment, saying a silent prayer, then climbed back down the rope to the Venjekar to explain his plan to his people.
Before he had even finished, Sigurd had decided it wouldn’t work.
“We won’t fool anyone, Skylan.” Sigurd snorted. “We can’t make ourselves look like ogres.”