Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1) (11 page)

‘I think not,’ he said dismissively. ‘Your consuls were afraid of me.’ He shrugged. ‘And perhaps war is what the sun king will want. If not, you can always be returned. Or ransomed.’ He stared directly into her eyes. ‘At any rate, your father is no king. A king would seek vengeance, no matter the consequence. But these consuls will advise caution. Such men always do.’

Chloe felt the seeds of doubt grow in her mind. She knew the way the Assembly functioned.

‘Believe me, Chloe of Phalesia,’ Kargan said. ‘Your fate is now in the hands of the sun king.’

17

Dion climbed the series of stone steps cut into the cliff at odd angles. Some were larger than others and he had to be careful with his footing. The higher he ascended, the more conscious he was of the steep drop to the sea below.

He tried not to look down, instead focusing on each individual step. But his gaze wandered, and he occasionally looked out at the city, seeing a scene of strange normality at the agora and surrounding temples where one would instead expect chaos and turmoil.

Finally, the path leveled and he paused, gripping a nearby jut, and waited for his breathing and heart rate to return to normal. Tough shrubs lined both sides of the path ahead, which was short and led directly to the plateau.

He had never climbed to the Temple of Aldus before, and had never been so high. The cliff dropped away at his left and he fought off the dizzying sensation of vertigo as he walked along the path. Keeping his back straight and his eyes level, he approached the dozen columns surrounding the flat, circular space, and now that his footsteps were taking him away from the cliff he finally began to breathe more easily.

From his vantage point he could see the entire city of Phalesia revealed behind the plateau’s far side. The evenly spaced columns held up no roof, simply providing a skirting fence for the sacred relics within. Even though it was near noon, the eternal flame was easily visible, burning fiercely on a stepped pyramid, nestled within a hollow at the very top. The spears of fire leaped and danced.

Six paces in front of the flame, at the temple’s perfect center, the Ark of Revelation shone brightly, the gold shimmering under the sun’s rays. Ornate and decorated with imprinted designs, it had a flat lid that was small compared to the chest. Strange, sharply angled symbols were arranged along the front, underneath lines of cursive text in a language Dion had never seen before.

Even though strong purpose had brought him here, he stopped in awe.

But he shook himself and intentionally tore his eyes away from the golden chest. He looked instead at the solitary man who knelt in front of the ark, his hands clasped together and his lips moving soundlessly as he prayed.

It was unthinkable to disturb First Consul Aristocles at prayer, but some things could not wait. Amos of the city guard had told Dion that Aristocles was so grief-stricken he was spending nearly all his time at the temple, praying to the gods and pacing, gazing out to sea in the direction his daughter had been taken.

Dion licked his lips and spoke. ‘First Consul.’

Aristocles looked up in surprise. He appeared to have aged dramatically, though little time had passed since their last meeting. The white hair framing his bald crown was lank and the skin around his eyes was shadowed and sunken; he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He slowly clambered to his feet and turned to face Dion.

Dion walked forward to meet him, taking in the older man’s grubby tunic and coming to the conclusion that Aristocles hadn’t washed or changed his clothes since his daughter’s capture. ‘I’ve heard the news, and I wish to express my sympathy.’

‘Dion,’ Aristocles said listlessly, gazing at him with reddened eyes. ‘What brings you here? What is so urgent as to disturb me at prayer?’

‘My father sent me to learn more about the newcomers. He fears that more ships will come in the wake of this visit. I was to ascertain their intentions.’

Aristocles gave a sardonic laugh.

Dion continued: ‘I believe my task is even more important now. Their intentions are clear. The Ileans are undoubtedly hostile. The fates of our two nations may hang in the balance. Yet, huddled in the mountains as we are, Xanthos is in the dark.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Aristocles said wearily. ‘But my problems are nonetheless greater than yours.’

‘Have you sent a rescue party yet?’

‘I cannot.’ Aristocles shook his head. ‘The consuls fear any act that may lead to outright war.’

Dion was puzzled. ‘Hasn’t that already happened?’

‘No,’ Aristocles said. ‘This could still be brushed off as a mistake, with both parties pretending misunderstanding, and any wounds soothed with silver and gold.’

Dion opened his mouth, then closed it. ‘So what are you saying? What will happen to your daughter?’

The first consul sighed. He looked like a man in physical pain. ‘I must pray that her captors treat her well and keep her safe. I tell myself that they wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of capturing her if they intended her harm.’

‘Surely the consuls are advising some response?’

‘Many believe the day will soon come when the sun king’s men will return demanding tribute and acknowledgement of vassalage. It stands to reason that any agreement would be conditional on return of my daughter. To this end they believe that it is time to start gathering gold.’

Dion’s eyes widened with horror. ‘They’ve given up? All because of one warship seizing a citizen, the daughter of the first consul? And Phalesia would give up its independence?’

Aristocles spread his hands. ‘Nothing has been decided. A decision will take many days, if not weeks. It is not my choice alone.’

Dion met the first consul’s gaze with an intent stare. ‘What would you do?’

‘It’s not about what I would do. We are an Assembly.’

‘Pretend you are king for a day.’

Aristocles coughed and turned his head away. When he again met Dion’s gaze, Dion saw that the first consul’s eyes glistened. ‘I know my daughter. She would never allow herself to be any part of Phalesia’s loss of sovereignty. She would toss herself into the sea rather than be a bargaining chip. I also know of this sun king, Solon, by reputation. If Phalesia gives him gold he will only demand more. Negotiation is not our best move.’

Dion glanced at the golden chest. ‘Why not hide the ark? Put it somewhere safe?’

‘We could never do it,’ Aristocles said. ‘It would send a message that we cannot defend our most sacred relic. The people would never stand for it. We consuls only have the power they give us.’

‘Then you must launch a rescue mission,’ Dion said. ‘The longer you wait the smaller the chance of success.’

‘If a Phalesian oceangoing vessel left these waters the Assembly would learn of it. Though every moment that passes takes her further away, I cannot order a rescue, not alone, not without the Assembly’s approval. I am working on it, but it will take time. Until I can gather a vote, my hands are tied.’

Dion made sure Aristocles took note of his next words. ‘I am not Phalesian,’ he said, fixing the first consul with a firm stare.

Aristocles tilted his head. He stayed silent.

‘My father has given me permission to travel to Ilea, posing as a trader from Xanthos.’

‘To what end?’

‘To ascertain the sun king’s intentions and capabilities. To learn about these warships and their construction.’

Aristocles stood back and looked Dion up and down, his expression pensive.

‘The sun king knows nothing of my people,’ Dion continued. ‘They wouldn’t immediately connect me with Phalesia.’

‘Speak plainly, Dion of Xanthos,’ Aristocles said. ‘What are you saying?’

‘The sun king wouldn’t suspect me of making a rescue attempt.’

‘Your father knows of this?’

‘I just arrived. He has no knowledge of your daughter’s capture.’

‘Why would you help me?’

‘Because I believe a war is coming, with the Maltherean Sea as battleground. Because with your daughter hostage the likely outcome is that Phalesia will focus on ransom rather than gearing up for war. Because we in Xanthos need your navy and your men if we are to survive.’

Dion paused to let his words sink in.

‘Alone, Xanthos cannot survive against the sun king,’ he continued. ‘The Ileans have shown their intentions. War will come. We need to get your daughter to safety, to take her out of the conflict. We need to prepare.’

Silence ensued, broken only by the wind whistling on the cliff top and the faint sound of waves crashing below. The glaring sun reminded Dion that time was passing.

‘I will pray to the gods,’ Aristocles finally said.

At that instant Dion caught fleeting motion out of the corner of his eye. His breath caught as he saw an eagle flying in an arc. The great bird settled in the air, just a few feet from the edge of the cliff, where it hovered, watching them with intelligent eyes. The eagle spent long seconds simply regarding the two men, and then wheeled away. It flew swiftly away from the temple, in a direct path out to sea.

The two watchers followed the eagle’s flight but it never changed course, becoming a tiny speck, and then vanishing altogether.

Aristocles’ face was white.

‘The omen is clear,’ the first consul said. ‘War is coming. Go, Dion of Xanthos. My prayers will be with you. Do your utmost.’

He spoke with ragged emotion as he gripped Dion’s shoulders.

‘Get my daughter back.’

18

The long warship traveled through deep waters that were a darker shade of blue than Chloe had ever seen. Mighty waves pounded at its bow, lifting it up before slamming it into the troughs behind. Sitting at the stern, where she felt the motion least, Chloe looked back toward her homeland, where the vessel’s wake left a whitened trail.

It was the second day of travel, and the wake pointed directly to the island of Deos, where they had beached the previous night. Chloe could still see the island now, marked out by the triangular silhouette of Mount Oden. Her sleep had been filled with terror, not only because of the rough men surrounding her, but because of the rumbling volcano, its peak clouded by the black smoke it spewed forth.

No Galean would have chosen the volcanic island to beach on: Mount Oden was the home of the gods, and their whims could never be predicted. Children listened to stories that told of shipwrecked sailors being stranded on the island. Some stories ended with the traveler being sent home, traveling on a cloud. Other times the victim was changed into a goat or a horse.

Chloe’s stomach growled, clenching itself painfully. Kargan’s men had given her food and drink but she struggled to keep any of it down; she vomited the contents of her stomach whenever she had anything more substantial than a sip of water.

‘Lady,’ a voice said. Glancing up from pondering the sea, Chloe saw a ragged Salesian with pockmarked skin, crouched on the deck as he looked up at her. ‘Here,’ he said, holding out something. ‘Grapes. From your city.’

She hesitantly took the proffered grapes. There were a dozen of them, green and fresh, still clustered to the vine.

‘Eat them slowly, one at a time,’ the Salesian said. He spoke with a stilted accent and his manner was fearful. ‘It will be good for your stomach.’

‘What is your name?’ Chloe asked.

‘Kufi, lady. I am a slave from Efu, in Haria.’

‘Thank you, Kufi of Efu. Do you know where we’re going?’

‘To the great city of Lamara,’ he said. ‘Capital of Ilea.’

‘Does your family live in Lamara?’

‘My family is dead, lady. Killed when the sun king’s army sacked the city. My brother and I both fought—’

Kufi broke off, his eyes widening with fear as he turned and saw Kargan approaching. The master of the
Nexotardis
ignored the slave as he scurried away.

‘Good,’ Kargan said. ‘I’m glad to see you eating. The sickness will pass in time.’

Chloe felt her strength return as she ate the sweet grapes. She lifted her chin as she scowled. ‘I want you to know that I will escape.’

Kargan chuckled. ‘Have you been so fixated on what is behind that you haven’t seen what lies ahead?’

He pointed with a thrust of his head and Chloe saw that they were approaching a landmass. A black escarpment formed a long line of spiked peaks as far as the eye could see in both directions. She couldn’t yet see the shore, but this place was dark and forbidding, with gray clouds clustering above while the rest of the sky remained blue.

‘Cinder Fen,’ Kargan said. ‘Do you have the same stories of this place that we do?’

Chloe felt fear climb up her spine. ‘It was once the homeland of the eldren,’ she said, gazing at the looming cliffs that grew larger in her vision with every passing moment. ‘Before they lost the war.’

‘That’s what the magi say. Do your wise men explain why it is the way it is?’

‘They say the magic of the eldren has left it. Only wildren inhabit the area now.’

‘The name says it all,’ Kargan said, looking ahead with Chloe. ‘Cinder Fen. Swamp of ash. Past the mountains is the heartland, though I have met none who have traveled there and made it home to tell the tale.’

Chloe shivered as chill fingers of cold air brushed her bare arms.

‘We must beach overnight at the tip of the promontory, a place where our camp will be farthest from the high ground,’ Kargan said. ‘There will be wild ones all around. Count on that, Chloe of Phalesia.’ He stood and looked down at her. ‘Escape if the sun god wills it, but I wouldn’t try it here.’

Kargan had obviously chosen the place where he would beach the
Nexotardis
well in advance. A finger of startlingly white sand jutted out from the shore, and he took personal command of his vessel, guiding the bireme to the extreme point, several hundred feet from the black rock faces and sheer cliffs. Gnarled black trees skirted the shoreline above the beach, somehow eking out an existence. The wind that plunged down from the mountains was cold, despite the expected summer heat. Inhaling, Chloe smelled the incongruous scent of char.

With the ship beached and the ramp out, Chloe saw that the dozen marines were once more armored, carrying long wooden spears and triangular shields in addition to the swords at each man’s waist. They trotted down the ramp and encircled the bireme, facing the mountains, each man warily watching the sky and casting his eyes over the cliffs.

Kargan barked swift orders. The ship was only beached enough to hold her fast against the tide and the oarsmen would stay in their benches, ready to leave at a moment’s notice. A sailor grabbed Chloe by the arm and led her down the ramp. With her feet on the crystalline sand, she gazed up fearfully at the mountains, where the darkening clouds swirled as if in the midst of an angry dance.

She was made to sit within the protective circle of the marines as the sun sank into the sea in the west. The soldiers never ceased watching as Kargan sent crewmen out to gather wood.

‘Fetch one armful each and then return. If I hear a single man speak of gemstones, I will cut out his heart and feed it to him.’

Soon a growing pile of sticks formed within the circle of marines. Hasha, the lean hook-nosed overseer of the oarsmen who had initially sat with Chloe and her father at the banquet, smoothed his curled mustaches as he knelt and placed some coals from a clay pot under the wooden stack. Before long a fire blazed, and the sailor with Chloe guided her to sit beside it in the sand.

She saw the slave Kufi handing out rations. ‘Is fire advisable?’ she asked as he handed her a plain ceramic bowl containing bread, olives, and cheese.

Hasha stepped forward and kicked the slave, sending him running, then he seated himself beside her. ‘Some of the wildren do not like fire,’ he said conversationally. ‘Our party is large and we will not have escaped their attention. It is best to use the flames to keep them away.’

‘Will it work?’

Hasha shrugged. ‘We did not come this way when we left Lamara. We will soon find out.’

Chloe realized she was suddenly ravenous: she tore into the hunk of bread, following it with some tart dried cheese. Away from the rolling motion of the ship, her stomach demanded sustenance to make up for the past days. Hasha ate as quickly as she did and then handed her a water skin. She swallowed mouthful after mouthful of sweet water until she thought she would burst.

‘I suggest you get some rest,’ Hasha said. ‘We may need to leave at short notice.’

Without another word the mustached Ilean handed Chloe a patterned blanket and nestled himself into the sand, wrapping his body in his own covering. Chloe shuffled a little apart and tried to follow suit, but when she closed her eyes the rocking motion returned, making her feel queasy after eating her fill so quickly. She tried concentrating on the crackle of the flames but she was conscious of her vulnerability among so many strangers.

After attempting sleep as a growing chorus of snores drowned out the waves crashing on the nearby shore, she slowly opened her eyes. Kargan was across the fire from her with his hands on his thick stomach, eyes closed, mouth open and chest rising and falling evenly.

Chloe sat up.

With the soldiers in an outward-facing circle and the ship and shore behind her, she began to contemplate escape. Perhaps Kargan and Hasha’s words were meant to frighten her into submission. She clenched her jaw. She had never let fear conquer her before.

At that moment lightning flashed in the smoky clouds hanging over the mountains. A dozen winged figures were suddenly visible as they flew across: shapes with the head and shoulders of men but with the rest of their bodies gnarled and reptilian. They were close enough for her to see bones in their outstretched wings. Both arms and legs were clawed appendages. Chloe made a small sound of fright, terrified they would turn and fly toward her.

These were wildren, she realized. She had never seen a wildran before. The thought that these creatures were as wild as wolves and were permanently in this form filled her with dread. She could believe the stories that said they would eat any flesh they could seize, with humans considered prey as much as goats, pigs, or sheep.

Feeling a hand pinching her arm, she saw Hasha sitting up and staring at her. ‘What did you see?’

‘Furies,’ Chloe said.

‘Are you certain?’

‘Y–Yes.’

‘Did they see us?’

‘I don’t think so.’

Another burst of lightning flashed, though there was no accompanying thunder. The sudden glow lit up the beach for a heartbeat and was gone immediately. The flicker revealed one of the sailors fifty feet from the camp with his ankles in the sea, his hands at his belt as he urinated.

Hasha shot to his feet. Chloe wondered what he was looking at, and then she saw them.

A hundred feet further up the shore, two tall ogres stood watching and assessing. Chloe had seen Zachary in giant form, but these were different in more ways than their slightly smaller size. The silver hair on their bony heads was thin and scraggly. Ragged animal skins hung from their waists. Bare chests revealed hairy torsos and a multitude of scars.

‘Get back to the camp!’ Hasha shouted to the man in the water.

The man looked back at them, confused, but another flash of lightning made him wheel with fright as he saw the wildren, spinning on his heel so fast he nearly fell into the water. He started to run.

Chloe heard another roaring voice and saw Kargan gesturing to the men. ‘Close ranks! They fear steel – show it to them!’

Slaves began to throw more wood onto the fire and Chloe ran forward to help, tossing branches onto the flames until the fire roared. The soldiers clattered their spears onto their shields.

The next time the lightning flickered, the ogres were gone.

Chloe sat back on the sand and wrapped her arms around her knees. At any moment she expected dragons to plunge down from the skies, ripping men into shreds with teeth and claw as ogres attacked the camp in a raging horde.

But the next thing she knew, Hasha was shaking her and light was in the sky.

‘Wake, girl,’ he said. ‘It is time to leave.’