Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1) (13 page)

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Chloe gripped her knees as she focused on the white flame. Sweat formed on her brow and her heart rate increased as if a galloping horse was trapped in her chest. Her vision narrowed as she stared until she could no longer see the Seer; she felt she was floating in a sea of darkness, and nothing existed but the pure white fire.

‘Close your eyes,’ the Oracle instructed.

Chloe closed her eyes, and the feeling of floating free from her body became so strong that she began to panic. But she fought to remain strong and banish the fear. Her breath came in short gasps.

‘The gods have accepted your offering. I now pronounce this prophecy.’

Chloe was desperate to open her eyes and see the face of the woman speaking to her as she revealed her future. Her consciousness floated in a void. She could concentrate on nothing except for the Oracle’s words.

‘You will kill a man you pity. You will desire a man you fear. You will wed a man you do not love. The gods have spoken. Open your eyes.’

Chloe opened her eyes, trembling with dread.

The fire had ebbed. The amulet in the flame was gone.

Chloe could now see the Oracle’s face.

The woman’s skin was blackened, as if the flesh had been pressed to hot iron. She had no eyes and shifted her head from side to side in the swift movements of the blind. The Oracle put her palms together in prayer. When she did, Chloe saw that her hands were withered and her fingers were like claws, with nails so long they curled back on themselves.

‘You may now go,’ she said in a rasping voice.

Chloe clambered unsteadily to her feet.

As she fled back through the cave, the words of the prophecy were burned into her mind like a brand on the hide of a beast.

You will kill a man you pity.

You will desire a man you fear.

You will wed a man you do not love.

Rather than bringing clarity to her uncertain future, Chloe felt cursed.

20

Gusts of wind came and went, ebbing and then returning in force, making constant work for the five men who crewed the twenty-foot sailing galley. Tall waves lifted the vessel up and sent it skittering down the far sides. Bursts of spray drenched the sailors, but the sun was bright and the day warm.

Dion manned the tiller, judging the approach of each wave carefully and fighting to keep the boat on course. A fresh flurry of wind pocketed the mainsail and just ahead of him Cob pulled on the rope with his calloused hands, hauling the sail closer still.

The seas were too strong for the oars but the other three crewmen – the youth Riko, the tall broken-nosed brawler Otus, and the wiry middle-aged Sal – kept themselves busy bailing water and following Cob’s instructions with the headsail.

‘Cinder Fen.’ Cob nodded to the brooding landmass dead ahead. ‘We’ll be there before sunset.’

Dion recalled his mother’s warning to stay away from Cinder Fen. But she hadn’t known about the capture of the first consul’s daughter, and it was by far the shortest course to Athos and then Ilea. Cob knew the terrain, and said that provided they found the jutting promontory affording them a camp a reasonable distance from the mountains, they would be safe. He had beached there three times before.

But wildren were always unpredictable.

As the wind freshened and came more steadily rather than in unpredictable squalls, Dion decided they were making good time. Their destination grew closer, revealing the different mountain peaks and the dark clouds hanging over them. A strip of brilliant white shore became visible.

‘Take us no closer,’ Cob instructed. ‘We’ll follow the shore from a good distance until we find the safe place.’

Suddenly Riko stood bolt upright, gripping hold of the mast as he stared out into the sea, white-faced. He shielded his eyes and scanned the water, back in the direction of their wake, his eyes roving wildly.

‘What is it?’ Sal asked.

When Riko said nothing, Cob roared, ‘Speak, boy!’

‘A—A serpent. I saw gray scales and a huge arching back.’ He turned eyes filled with terror on Cob and Dion. ‘I . . . I think I just saw a leviathan!’

‘Silex, keep us safe,’ Sal whispered.

‘Are you certain? Which way?’ Cob asked.

Riko pointed to the right of dead astern. Dion turned and stared as every man in the boat squinted at the sea.

‘Keep her on course!’ Cob growled at him. ‘There are enough of us looking.’

Dion’s skin crawled as he waited for another sighting. He continued to follow the shoreline, a few miles away.

The moments dragged by. The wooden beams of the boat groaned and he shivered, expecting the timbers to split apart as a serpent struck from below. Despite the old man’s instructions he scanned the sea when he could, fighting to also keep the boat lined up against the ceaseless pounding of the waves.

Finally, after a long silence spent searching, Cob called out to Riko again. ‘Are you certain, lad?’

‘I . . . I think so,’ Riko said. He still stood by the mast, clutching the stout pole with white-knuckled fingers.

‘It could have been a whale,’ Dion said.

‘And if it wasn’t?’ Sal demanded. The wiry man, who had sailed these waters with Cob for half his life, was almost trembling.

‘If we’re sharing the sea with a leviathan, we need to head in,’ Cob said. ‘Before it’s too late.’

‘We should keep sailing,’ said Dion. ‘Cinder Fen is more dangerous than the open ocean. Everyone says to either camp in force or beach at the refuge. It will be safer farther up, on the promontory, as far as we can get from the mountains.’

‘Turn us in.’ Cob brought the full force of his glare on Dion. Despite his diminutive size, he could still be intimidating. ‘If there’s a serpent out there our safest option is to head for shallow water.’

‘There’s more sailing in the day,’ Dion persisted. ‘We have to—’

‘You’ve never been to Cinder Fen, Dion. I have.’

‘I’m with Cob,’ Otus said.

‘Take us in,’ said Riko.

‘Sal?’ Dion asked the last man in the group.

‘Cob’s the best sailor I know,’ Sal said, scratching the stubble on his angular jaw. He took a deep breath. ‘He’s also stayed alive long enough to grow warts.’ He nodded to the beckoning shore, close enough to make out the breakers. ‘I’m for getting us out of the water.’

Dion reluctantly nodded. He turned the boat so they were angling into shore while Cob let the rope in his hands run freely as their course altered.

Watching their approach, Dion saw that the beach here was narrow, leading up to a stretch of smooth rock before the ground became steeper, eventually becoming black walls and broken ridges like jagged teeth. Tilting his head back he saw that they would be landing just below a cliff taller than the peaks around it. Behind the vessel the sun was drawing close to the horizon, but the glow of late afternoon didn’t touch the storm clouds gathered at the mountaintops.

‘Sail down!’ Dion called. The boat caught a wave and sped forward faster than he liked. ‘Everyone out on my command! Stop her from turning and get her out before the water breaks over the stern and fills her up!’

Judging his moment, he finally cried out. ‘Now!’

Every man in the boat hopped over the side and instantly was in water up to his armpits. The remorseless waves threatened to turn the boat but the crew took hold and hauled it forward. At the bow, Riko and Otus were in shallower water and had a good purchase. They almost ran as they pulled the vessel forward through breaking waves. Some water came in but Dion saw with satisfaction that they’d done as well as could be expected.

The five men grunted as they lifted the vessel, working to drag her up where the rising tide couldn’t touch her. Soon the boat was high on the beach, tilted to the side due to the keel. Dion felt soft powdery sand under his feet as he scanned the cliffs ahead. Beside him Cob was staring up at the sky.

‘Look,’ Dion said, pointing. ‘A cavern. Just above the sand, near the scrub.’

Cob rubbed his chin and glanced down at the boat. ‘I’d prefer to stay close to the boat, ready to depart.’

‘Stay here,’ Dion said.

He ran along the beach while Cob cursed and called after him, telling him to be careful. He reached the bushes and came to a scooped impression in the cliff, not a deep cave, but sandy floored and sheltered overhead and at the sides. Staying only long enough to make a swift assessment, he sprinted back to the group.

‘It’s safe,’ he said. ‘And I have an idea. The wildren will see a boat on the beach, but if we take it into the cavern, there’s little chance we’ll be spotted.’

‘As long as we haven’t been spotted already,’ Otus muttered.

‘It’s a good idea,’ Cob said. ‘Only one downside.’

Dion nodded. ‘We’ll have to take down the mast.’

‘Makes it harder for us to flee in an emergency.’

‘We can keep the mast inside the boat, and we still have the oars,’ Dion said. ‘What do you all think?’ he addressed the group.

‘A cave sounds better than spending a sleepless night watching the sky for flyers,’ Sal said.

Otus and Riko agreed.

‘Come on,’ Dion said. ‘Let’s get it hidden as soon as possible.’

They were all strong sailors, accustomed to coastal trading where every night was yet another round of beaching at an unfamiliar place, and the boat was designed to be easily lifted. Soon they had the vessel well hidden inside the cave, with just enough room left over for the crew of five to stretch out and sleep.

‘No fires,’ Dion said as he looked out at the sea and saw it was growing dark. ‘It’s a warm night. We’ll eat a cold meal.’

‘Captain?’ Riko’s voice came from behind him. The youth’s face was eager; his courage had returned now that they’d left the water. ‘You know the stories. Can we look for gemstones before we leave? We can be careful.’

‘No,’ Dion said shortly. ‘We stay in this cave and then leave as soon as we can see our hands in front of our faces. No man goes out, not until morning. Understood?’

Riko glanced at Otus and then nodded. ‘All right.’

‘Let’s eat and rest. We have an early start tomorrow.’

Dion’s dreams were disturbed by whispers, sounds of scuffling footsteps, and low voices at the edge of hearing.

Always a light sleeper, his eyes shot open.

A rumble came from a squat shape nearby; Cob was snoring as always. Sal lay near the old man, his arms folded to form a pillow as he slept on his side.

Dion sat up. It was dark in the cavern and the sky was clouded, but the moon was just over the horizon. The mouth of the cavern was wide, and with his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he swept his gaze over the interior. Standing, he looked at the rear, behind the boat.

With urgency Dion bent and grabbed hold of Cob’s shoulder as he started shaking.

‘Wha—?’

‘Shh,’ Dion hissed. ‘Wake Sal. Riko and Otus are missing.’

Cob cursed and shot up, clambering to his feet and kicking Sal in the legs. ‘Get up. Stay quiet.’

Dion grabbed his bow, placed near his head in case it was needed. Removing the leather cover, he flung the quiver of arrows over his shoulder, taking a solitary shaft and nocking it to the string.

He saw that Cob now held a small axe and Sal gripped a scabbard. Sal took hold of the sheathed sword and slowly drew it, the flat blade making a scratching sound that sent a shiver up Dion’s spine.

Dion led his two companions slowly forward. Spreading out, they saw a double moon as the orb’s reflection showed a wavering version of its original on the sea. They stepped cautiously down to the water’s edge and scanned in both directions.

‘There.’ Sal pointed.

The two missing men were wandering along the beach, eyes on the ground as they searched for the fabled gemstones. The smaller form of Riko was closer to high rocky ground and Dion watched him lift his head and call to his companion. Otus came running as Riko crouched and then straightened, holding something out in his hand while they both inspected the stone.

‘Riko,’ Sal hissed. ‘Otus.’ Neither heard him. ‘Can I shout?’

Dion looked at Cob.

‘Too risky,’ Cob said.

‘Come on, hurry,’ said Dion.

He started to run, but he was dragged to a halt when Cob grabbed hold of his wrist, arresting his motion.

Three black shapes plunged down from the clouds overhead, flapping wings growing larger in Dion’s vision with every passing moment. Their path was clear as they descended on the pair of treasure seekers. Bent over the stone, neither Riko nor Otus noticed
.

‘Balal save us,’ Sal whispered.

His heart giving a lurch, Dion registered the swooping figures and raised his bow, drawing the nocked arrow to his cheek. He chose a target, sighting along the shaft as he let loose at the birdlike creature.

The string hummed and the arrow whistled through the air as it left the bow. But the shot went wide, and the triangle of furies continued their plummeting raid. They were now just a stone’s throw above the preoccupied men.

Dion aimed yet another arrow and took his first close look at creatures he’d only ever heard about second hand. Their legs and lower bodies were completely reptilian, with clawed feet and scaled leathery skin all the way to their torsos. Their heads were almost human: aside from the scraggly silver hair and wild eyes they had noses and mouths where they should be, although the jaws were enlarged, with long incisors. The scales rose to a varying degree on their torsos. The fury in the center had shoulders leading to normal arms, hands, and outstretched fingers, while the other two had
reptile skin to their necks and wrinkled arms like birds, appendages closer to animals, with claws ready to rend and tear.

Outstretched wings spread from behind their backs, veined and ugly, with the bony framework clearly visible. It was as if as eldren they had been unable to completely change to dragon form, stopping somewhere halfway.

Sal and Cob now cupped hands over their mouths and screamed at the two men.

Dion loosed an arrow at the fury high on the left.

His aim was true and the shaft plunged deep into the creature’s back, just below the wings. As the arrow struck, the fury screamed in pain and wheeled away. First Riko and then Otus looked up at the sky, showing the whites of their eyes as they saw the danger.

Sal and Cob ran toward them, weapons held high. They had only halved the distance when the fury with the arms of a man collided into Riko and wrapped him in a deadly embrace, instantly rising into the air with his victim held fast. The youth writhed but was lifted high into the sky.

Dion fitted another arrow as the last fury swooped down on Otus, hitting him hard with sharp claws outstretched. For a moment there was a chaotic tangle of man and creature and then a spray of blood accompanied the creature’s cry of triumph as it flew once more into the air. Otus clutched hands to his throat and Dion saw that his face and throat were torn by long gashes. He fell to his knees and slumped, tipping over and sprawling on the ground
.

The wounded fury spiraled away, flying raggedly. The other two had disappeared but Dion tracked the remaining creature and then loosed his arrow, striking it in the torso. It shuddered and then fell from the sky, landing hard on the ground nearby.