Song of the Dragon (57 page)

“For both of us,” Drakis replied.

“Then we go north.”

U
RULANI SET two of the
Cydron's
three sails after clearing the passage and set her course north from Sanctuary Bay toward Pilot Island, a nasty piece of rock that jutted up from the Thetis Sea. The island offered nothing beyond a place for the merfolk of the deep ocean to occasionally sun themselves and a point of navigation for the Sondau corsairs. By the light of the stars, Urulani caught sight of its southern shore sometime after the midpoint of the night, took her bearings, and after putting the ship on a more western course turned the tiller over to Ganja. Then she found a spot on the deck on which to sleep.

Watch by watch, the
Cydron
held its course across the Thetis Sea. The winds were not entirely in their favor, coming at them from three points off the port bow, so their progress was slower than the captain might have liked. It took another full day and night before the dark profile of Point Kontantine came into view off their port bow as the morning rays were spreading across the sea.

Beyond the point was the open Charos Ocean, a vastness that had yet to be tamed. Urulani chose not to make landfall at the Point—she would only say that they would not be welcomed there and that some things in the world were best left undisturbed—then turned their tack more north by northwest, laying on more sail. Now the quartering wind was to their advantage; the
Cydron
heeled over slightly and cut through the waves with vigorous speed. The sunlight was just failing by the time the ship eased toward the gentle slope of Cape Caldron and made anchor in a small protected harbor.

It had been a journey of just over one hundred and eighty leagues. . . and to Urulani it seemed that the dwarf had talked the entire way.

“Where's the manticore?” Drakis asked as he pulled himself up on the deck. “I thought he was down below.”

“Aye, my boy, and I can certainly understand why you would have thought to look there first,” the dwarf said, beaming his wide-toothed smile. He sat on the afterdeck, its planks sloping forward gently toward the galley benches just forward, a piece of driftwood in his hands. A small pile of shavings was growing next to his crossed legs as he carved the wood with a thick-bladed knife. “Indeed, our friend Belag does not seem to have taken to this travel by sea as so many of the rest of us have. Captain Urulani has expressed her concern for him on a number of occasions, and I have personally assured her that manticores are perfectly capable of sea travel. There are many stories—both ancient and in times nearer our own—in which seagoing manticores have figured prominently and acted most bravely. This does not seem to apply to friend Belag, however, who was most anxious to get off of ‘this barge' as he put it and feel the ground under his feet for a while.”

Drakis was only half listening to what the dwarf was saying. He stood with a wide stance on the deck and looked about. “So where is Mala?”

“There you have the collision of both stories, for she went ashore as well,” Jugar continued. “I believe the captain called it ‘provisioning,' and she seemed most anxious to do so regarding water stores. Apparently the next leg of our trip is a rather lengthy one, more than a week at sea or longer still even should the winds prove themselves favorable.”

“Belag won't much care for that,” Drakis laughed. “So why didn't you and the Lyric go ashore as well?”

“So I did earlier, but in truth I found it rather dull,” the dwarf shrugged, shaving another curling piece from the driftwood. “I attempted to enliven the conversation with the captain by regaling her with stories of famous shipwrecks—trying in the interest of better relations to build some sort of rapport with her—but she did not seem to appreciate the subject matter as much as I had hoped.”

“Is he still
talking
?” Urulani was pulling herself up over the side of the ship. The water shone on her dark skin, pooling at her feet on the deck. Drakis found himself staring at her muscular figure as she pushed the water out of her hair. “By the Ancients, how do you ever get him to stop?”

“I don't . . . but I'm open to suggestions.”

“Well . . . do dwarves float?”

“We could find out,” Drakis agreed.

“Now, both of you just stop that kind of talk right now!” Jugar said, his face becoming red at once as he pointed the tip of his broad knife at them in turns. “That is a poor jest at my expense . . . especially as I'm an important and critical member of this expedition whose knowledge will be invaluable in the days ahead! Threatening me with a watery grave . . .”

“It would appear,” Drakis commented to Urulani, “that dwarves are not entirely fond of bathing.”

“Which is easily discerned if one remains upwind of a dwarf,” Urulani added.

“Why, I'll have you both know that dwarves consider their hygiene to be of the highest personal priority in all levels of their society!” the dwarf sputtered.

“I never doubted it,” Drakis said bowing slightly.

“You'll be granting me a far greater measure of respect once we reach the Desolation of the North!” Jugar said, wagging his wide fingers at the two humans. “There, at the end of the River of Tears, in the far reaches of the Sand Sea we'll find the God's Wall . . . from which mountain peaks the dragons issue their mournful call! And who will interpret the ancient words for you then, eh? The power of the ancient magic of the Aesthesian dragon warriors rivaled that of Rhonas itself, and who will protect you from the ravages of its pent-up forces if it isn't this humble fool of a dwarf, eh?”

“Humble fool of a dwarf?” Drakis said looking down his nose with suspicion. “I've been meaning to ask you about that ever since Nothree. This ‘humble fool of a dwarf' was spinning some rather impressive magics of his own that night.”

“Oh, well, not really as impressive as it seemed at the time,” Jugar said at once, his countenance shifting with remarkable swiftness from belligerent to shy. “It really was mostly the Heart of Aer that was impressive. I just used it to conjure a little trick or two.”

“ ‘A
little
trick or two?'” Drakis said, his words slower and with more consideration. “You bested not one but four or possibly five Iblisi with those ‘little tricks.'”

“It is most kind of you to say so, but, in all fairness it was only with your most able and impressive aid that such a feat was accomplished,” the dwarf said smiling once more.

Drakis was not convinced. “You're a wizard, Jugar. When were you going to tell us . . . ?”

“It was a terrible battle, indeed, my boy, but at least we are rid of that chimerian Ethis,” Jugar continued as though he had not heard the man. “I dare say that each of us sleeps better at night knowing that he has gone on his way. I do not say that I wish the fellow harm—never let it be said that Jugar would be so cruel—but there was something about him that I did not trust. True, it is most likely that he is a fallen comrade lying scorched and broken among the ruins of Nothree, but, tragic as such an end may be, it has brought us to this fine ship and furthered us on our very honorable journey in search of your destiny.”

Urulani just shook her head. “Unbelievable! How does he do that?”

“Listen to me, dwarf,” Drakis said, squatting down on the deck before Jugar, but the dwarf continued to look down at the wood he was working in his hands. “You've been making me out to be this legendary hero to everyone we've met since the fall of House Timuran. It kept Belag sane when he might have fallen into madness . . . and I'm glad for that. It even managed somehow to bluff us through the Faery Kingdom although I find it hard to believe that Queen Murialis didn't see through the lie from the first. It got us fed on the Vestasian Savanna . . . and it seemed like just a convenient little lie then.”

The dwarf continued to look at his hands as they worked the wood.

“But now people are
dying
,” Drakis continued. “The city of the Hak'kaarin is filled with the dead—and RuuKag with them—because of that lie. All of Nothree was burned to the ground and who knows how many of the family and friends of this crew may be dead for all we know—certainly all of them now homeless—because of that lie.”

“It's not a lie,” Jugar huffed.

“I am
not
the man,” Drakis said each word with emphasis.

“
You could be!
” Jugar shouted.

Drakis stood up.

“How do you know?” The dwarf continued as he, too, stood, turning his face up so that their eyes could meet. “You've lived your entire life so far as you recall under the thumb of your pathetic elven masters—
masters
, they call themselves! They stomp about the world taking what they want, bleeding the world pale just to satisfy their whims while the
rest
of us die for them. They
destroyed
your people, Drakis . . . they hated humanity so much that they killed as many as they could and enslaved those that remained
not
because you were such prized slaves or warriors but because they wanted every day . . .
every
day, Drakis . . . to see the evidence in the flesh of their superiority over conquered humankind. When the dwarves wouldn't bow to them, they destroyed them, too—oh, yes, they took them apart throne by throne until only the Ninth Throne stood, and even then they would not bow to the Imperial Whim. They paid for it with their last blood!”

“But
you
!” the dwarf said, taking a step toward Drakis, “You can change all that. One man alone is worthless . . . but a
legend
? A legend can forge a new destiny, Drakis. A legend can change the world! You—me—we're nothing—lumps of flesh who just wander the world for a few years before we return to the ground that spawned us. But a
legend
lives forever, boy! A legend has a destiny beyond the life of anyone!”

“I've seen the fruits of this
legend
you're so pleased about,” Drakis said in a voice that barely carried across the deck. “So far it has motivated hundreds—maybe upward of a thousand—very inspired deaths.”

“You're missing the grander picture, my boy,” the dwarf replied not unkindly.

“Nonsense,” Urulani interjected. “I'd say he's got a rather clear understanding of the situation.”

“This from a corsair! A woman whose people subsist on the scraps they can steal from their neighbors while they hide in coves along a coast that no one wants!” Jugar suddenly changed his gruff tone after the look on the captain's face conveyed her sudden desire to test her dwarf-floating hypothesis. “My apologies, good Captain, it was an ill-advised phrase that I used in the heat of the argument. I should have suggested—and, indeed,
do
suggest—that the perspective of the Sondau Clan should be broadened beyond their pressing and immediate concerns. Rhonas is at war with the entire world and has brought it to heel.”

The dwarf turned back to Drakis. “The
one
thing that survived the fall of humanity was this legend—this tale of the great dragon warrior who turned his back on the world and would return again to save it in its hour of most desperate need. The hope of this redemption—this story of justice to come—has found its way in one form or other into every nation and race from the Charos beaches of Mestophia to the breaking waves of Chaenandria's Lyrac shores. They all look to the north—and wait for the legend to fulfill his destiny and bring peace to their lives. The sands have fallen again and again through the glass of time, our need has grown more desperate with each passing year, and still he has not come.”

“But
now
you're here, Drakis,” the dwarf poked the human with the tip of his knife. “Mortals do
not
get to choose their fates . . . their fates choose them. You're going to be the Drakis . . .
that's
your fate.”

Drakis gazed down at the dwarf and shook his head. “When we get to these God's Wall Peaks you keep talking about, then we'll find out whether I choose my fate or it chooses me. There is only one way to be absolutely sure.”

“Indeed?” the dwarf asked.

“Yes . . . the same way one can be absolutely sure as to whether a dwarf floats or not.”

M
ALA WATCHED Cape Caldron fall astern as the
Cydron
sailed northwest from the anchorage, her eyes never leaving the coast until it vanished at last below the horizon under a brightening morning sky.

As the sun crossed the tops of the masts, shore again was sighted to the east, this time the Westwall Cliffs rising through the haze on the eastern horizon. This, Urulani informed Drakis, was the farthest western end of Nordesia. Their conversation was somewhat disjointed, however, as Jugar was constantly interrupting with some prattle about the giants that lived in the Westwall Cliffs and who occasionally waded out into the ocean to capture and play with boats that passed too close to the shore. Urulani scoffed at the “child's tale” as she stood at the tiller, but Drakis quietly noted to himself that she nevertheless kept the ship far from those shores.