Doom of the Dragon by Margaret Weis

and began to swim, pulling the ship, while other oceanids pushed the ship from the stern.
    The dragonship began moving through the water, slowly at first and then picking up speed until it was bounding over the waves. Foam boiled beneath the keel and seawater splashed over the prow. Joabis gave a hollow cry, lurched across the deck, and tumbled down into the hold.
    Skylan stood by the prow, his hands gripping the rail, his legs braced. The seawater broke over him, cooling him. He tasted the salt on his lips.
    â€œTorval,” Skylan prayed, “all I ask is the chance to let Aylaen know I will come back to her. Wherever she is, I will find her.”

 
    CHAPTER
    7
    Wulfe crouched protectively beside Skylan’s body, crowding as close to the corpse as he could without touching the armor, for it was made of iron. He and all the other fae folk hated iron; the metal burned their flesh. Wulfe couldn’t even stand the smell, which was like that of fresh blood, but for Skylan’s sake he endured it.
    Wulfe kept a distrustful eye on his fellow passengers, especially the old Ugly, Acronis, and the young Ugly, Farinn. Wulfe had overheard the two talking when they thought he was sleeping. They said Skylan was dead and they were going to try to convince Aylaen to dump him into the sea.
    Wulfe had feared Skylan was dead, too, right after the spear had hit him and he’d collapsed onto the deck in a pool of blood. The pain of his loss had been horrible for Wulfe, seeming to set his insides on fire and searing his soul as the iron seared his skin.
    After finding Skylan dying on the ghost ship and nursing him back to health, Wulfe had come to believe that Skylan belonged to him. Wulfe’s duty was watch over his friend and he had failed and Skylan had died and gone to live with some stupid god in a hall filled with iron. Wulfe couldn’t bear to be without him. He’d already lost his mother, who long ago had visited him every night to sing lullabies to him, and now he’d lost Skylan.
    â€œI’m going someplace where we don’t kill each other,” Wulfe had told the oceanids, who had clustered beneath the ship, expressing their sorrow and sympathy for their grieving prince.
    He had planned to leave that night, jump into the sea and swim away with his friends, as soon as he was certain the Uglies were asleep, for he knew they would try to stop him. But while he was waiting, hiding in the darkness, he had seen and heard some things that made him realize Skylan wasn’t dead. He might not be alive, but he wasn’t dead.
    Wulfe didn’t tell the Uglies what he had seen. He was afraid to tell them, because he knew he shouldn’t have seen what he saw. And besides, he reasoned, the Uglies wouldn’t believe him anyway. All he would tell them was that Skylan wasn’t dead.
    â€œYou don’t have to be sad anymore,” Wulfe had assured the three Uglies. “We just have to wait for him to come back to us.”
    Acronis had looked grave. Farinn had walked away very fast. Aylaen had only stared at him with dull, empty eyes and gone over to stand beside the dragon.
    â€œWhy don’t you believe me?” Wulfe yelled at them, but none of them answered.
    And the very next day, Acronis had started to talk in sad and solemn tones about throwing Skylan into the sea.
    â€œYou have to find Skylan,” Wulfe had told the oceanids. “You have to find him and bring him back!”
    The fae loved gossip, especially if it had to do with the Uglies, and the exciting news that the oceanids were looking for a dead Ugly who wasn’t dead would flash among them with lightning speed. Wulfe took comfort in the fact that every oceanid, naiad, dryad and satyr, nymph, faun, and centaur, and maybe even such evil fae as ghouls and giants would be looking for Skylan. When they found him, he had ordered them to bring him back to where he belonged—with