Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1) (25 page)

39

‘Dion, can you hear me?’

Dion heard Roxana’s gravelly voice. He groaned and tried to nod, but nearly blacked out with the effort.

‘He is very hurt,’ Anoush piped.

‘Really?’ Roxana said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘I thought he was just nursing a hangover. Gods, look at your face, Dion. I’ve seen better-looking ogres. You said he got waylaid in the city?’

‘Yes,’ Anoush said. ‘Bandits tried to rob him. I found him and got some men to help bring him back here.’

‘But they didn’t take his bow? First thing I would have taken.’

‘Soldiers frightened them off.’

‘Lucky for him. Or unlucky he got beaten before they came, I suppose. This city is more dangerous than hunting wildren, it seems.’ She barked a laugh. ‘Dion, if you can hear me, I’ve paid Algar from your wages. I’ve also given some coin to your’—she hesitated—‘manservant. For healing balms and supplies. There isn’t much left. Why in the name of Silex are you living in such expensive lodgings?’

Dion moaned.

‘Look, I know it hurts, but give it a couple of days and you’ll be all right. I’ve seen worse. Much worse. Hope you gave back as good as you got.’

Dion heard rustling.

‘Boy, listen. There’s not much you can do about his ribs. I’d say he’s broken at least two or three. It’ll hurt to laugh, so keep your jokes to a minimum.’ She snorted. ‘His head will clear. Put the poultice on his face, there, where it looks worst. Understand?’

‘Yes, mistress.’

‘Mistress? I like that. Look, I need to be going. You got all you need? Good. Tell him to come and see me when he’s better. He can tell me the story then, over a mug of beer. My treat.’

Dion fought to open his eyes, but the effort was too great.

Darkness overcame his senses.

40

The cells beneath the palace were empty. Chloe had the entire place to herself. The guards had thrown her inside one of several identical windowless chambers and then closed a heavy door behind her. She’d momentarily seen their faces through the grill at head height, before they’d slid the bolt and left.

She guessed that only valuable or dangerous prisoners must be kept in this place. The sun king’s captives would usually be either enslaved or immediately put to death. Although the copper chain around Chloe’s neck remained, the amulet Tomarys had bought her was gone; the guards knew such things could be bought in the market. Still overwhelmed by horror – she had killed a man, a true friend – she spent hours trying not to be consumed by her ragged emotions. Even so, she wrapped her arms around her knees and whimpered, leaning back against the hard stone wall and seeing flashing images of Tomarys’s suffering.

Finally, she fell asleep, huddled in the corner of her cell. She didn’t know how long she slept, only that it was for a long time. Her lips were dry and her throat parched; she had yet to be given any food or water.

Sudden remembrance struck like a dagger in the heart. She saw the stake driven up through Tomarys’s insides, emerging from his throat. She heard his terrible gurgling moan.

Chloe sobbed, but stifled it before it took hold of her. She had to be strong. She forced herself to look up and examine her surroundings.

It was dark, near pitch black; the only light came from the end of the corridor she’d entered through. The air was dry and cool. Standing and walking to the thick door, she peered through the window and counted six cells; she was in the cell closest to the door.

She heard movement – a soft tread of footsteps – and frowned, trying to locate the source of the sound. She then realized that her initial assessment was wrong: she wasn’t alone after all. A shadowy face appeared, staring at her through the bars of the most-distant cell.

‘You are upset, I take it?’ a wry voice said. ‘It has been a long time since I have had a companion here. I must say, I wasn’t expecting someone like you. How old are you, human?’

The figure brought his face forward so that the barest amount of light touched his features. Chloe saw high cheekbones and sharp features. He was the last person in the world she expected to see.

‘Zachary?’ She clutched hold of the bars but then faltered. An eldran was looking at her, but he wasn’t Zachary. ‘Who are you?’

He was tall, even for an eldran, and despite his sharp chin his face was broad and strong. When he shifted his head Chloe saw that he was completely bald and that his left eye was missing, displaying an empty, wrinkled socket. She had never seen an eldran so visually striking.

‘My name is Triton,’ he said. ‘You have heard of me? No?’ He sounded surprised. ‘I am the king of the eldren.’

‘King?’ Chloe was so surprised that she momentarily forgot about her own predicament. ‘I didn’t know the eldren had a king.’

He lifted his chin and spoke proudly. ‘The blood of Marrix runs in my veins.’

With his movement Chloe now saw that he had a thin golden collar around his neck. She wondered at its purpose. Eldren weren’t fond of metal, and could never willingly touch it.

‘Who is Marrix?’ The name was familiar, but Chloe couldn’t place it.

‘The last king to command all of the eldren. He died long ago,
but his struggle is not forgotten. He led us, before most of my peo
ple turned wild and were lost to us. I have long ruled the eldren who live in the place you call the Waste.’

‘Why are you here?’

‘The sun king’s armies advanced north of Abadihn and Koulis, seeking a route into Galea.’ He shrugged. ‘We stopped them.’

‘You fight against the sun king?’ Chloe realized she might have a potential ally, if she could ever find a way to free them both.

‘We fought. But I was taken hostage and here I am. There is now an uneasy peace between us. My people will not fight while I am here.’

He brought up a hand as if to tug on the collar at his neck, but then stopped while still a few inches away, making a grimace of pain and bringing his hand back down.

‘Why do you wear a collar?’

He smiled without mirth. ‘I am not without power, girl. Without this collar around my neck I could change shape. Walls of stone would never keep me here.’

‘Does it hurt?’

‘The collar? Yes,’ he said shortly. ‘It hurts.’ He was pensive for a time. ‘Now who are you, girl? And why are you here?’

‘I come from Phalesia, one of the Galean nations. One of the sun king’s warships came to my homeland. I am the daughter of the first consul, and they took me prisoner. I was forming a plan to escape when I incurred the sun king’s wrath. Now,’ she said, echoing Triton’s words, ‘here I am. Solon now plans to lead a force to conquer my homeland.’

Triton frowned. ‘There are closer conquests. What is it he wants?’

‘He desires gold above all else. We have a sacred ark of gold—’

Triton swiftly leaned forward, his eyes suddenly wide as he peered at her, though he didn’t touch the iron bars. ‘Did you say an ark of gold? A chest?’ His voice was urgent. ‘What is inside?’

Chloe told the story of the tablets inscribed by the god Aldus, on which were the laws of morality that would grant a man entrance to heaven. ‘It would be sacrilege to open the ark, yet Solon wants to seize it and melt it down for his tomb.’

Triton relaxed. He nodded sagely. ‘I understand.’

‘He plans to take the ark, and any other gold, and kill our leaders.’ Chloe couldn’t bring herself to repeat the sun king’s threat to impale her father. ‘He must be stopped.’

‘He does, does he?’ Triton’s expression was pensive.

‘Triton . . . Would your eldren help us against him?’

His one good eye met her gaze. ‘If I were free, we would fight.’ He once again nearly touched the collar, before allowing his hand to fall. ‘Oh yes, we would.’

41

When Dion was finally well enough to think clearly, he was filled with anger.

In his mind’s eye he saw Chloe push her guard to the side and his shot go wild. He had taken a great risk to free her. Why did she help her captors?

From now on, she was on her own. As soon as he could, he would return home to Xanthos. The first consul’s daughter could remain a prisoner for all he cared.

He stood and looked around his small room. He wouldn’t miss Lamara. When he returned to Xanthos he would tell his father and brother about the things he had learned in his time away. He would find the best carpenters and shipwrights and start working on warships to rival anything in the sun king’s fleet. He would help Nikolas prepare strategies to prevent the sun king’s biremes making an easy landing.

As Dion prepared to depart he swayed slightly but decided he was able to make the journey. He dressed and put his quiver over his shoulder, then took up his composite bow. He was just about to leave when he heard light footsteps outside, and a moment later the round-faced boy who had saved his life drew the entrance curtain aside. Anoush grinned when he saw Dion up and about.

‘Master, you are well again. I have come straight from the harbor. Your captain gave me a message for you.’

Dion didn’t expect to see Roxana again, but he nodded for Anoush to continue.

‘She says that the sun king’s navy is being made ready, and asks if you are fit enough to join her on a great expedition. There will be glory and plunder. The ships will sail to a new land across the sea.’

Dion’s heart sank at the news. He thought quickly. ‘Did they name the land? Did you hear the name Phalesia?’

Anoush frowned. ‘No, that was not it. It was a different name.’

Dion’s eyes widened. ‘Xanthos?’

‘Yes.’ Anoush nodded vigorously. ‘Xanthos. That is it.’

He wondered how it was possible. Why would Solon’s fleet be sailing to Xanthos? The only route to the city’s harbor would take them past Phalesia. The Shards blocked the only other channel.

‘Are you certain it was Xanthos?’

‘Yes, master. They are sailing for Xanthos.’

Dion clenched his jaw. He wondered if there was something he could do to help his people. With his quest to rescue Chloe at an end, he now had to put his homeland first.

He was known at Lamara’s harbor. The guards would let him through. He had access to the sun king’s fleet.

He knew he had no choice.

Dion reached into the pouch at his belt, wincing as even the slight motion reminded him there were places that still hurt, and took out the last of his money: a silver coin and a handful of coppers.

‘Cup your hands,’ he instructed Anoush. He spilled coins into the boy’s palms. ‘I need you to do something for me. I want you to go to the bazaar, quickly, and buy me some lamp oil. As much as you can carry. Get tinder also. If there’s money left over it’s yours. Go, lad. Now!’

Anoush nodded and left swiftly to do his bidding. Dion paced and made plans, feeling the time passing far too quickly for his comfort. He decided he would head for the harbor at the end of the day, when most of the crews would have left. He had to be clever as well as lucky if he was going to leave Lamara alive.

He ate some dried fruit and drank water, feeling his strength return. His brow furrowed as he tried to understand the plans of Solon and his naval overlord, Kargan. Roxana had told Anoush they were sailing for Xanthos . . .

But how was that possible?

Anoush finally returned an hour before sunset. He struggled to make his way up the stairs as he carried a heavy satchel over one shoulder.

‘What is this for, master?’

‘Anoush, I cannot tell you. The best thing you can do is to forget you ever met me. We might not see each other again.’

Dion took the satchel and put it over his shoulder. Peering inside, he saw a bulging skin and a bundle of dry tinder.

He left his bow and quiver in the room; if he could, afterwards, he would return to get them. He still hurt, but he could do this. Pushing aside the last remnants of pain, he summoned his determination as he crouched down and squeezed the boy’s shoulder. ‘Thank you, Anoush.’

Without another word, Dion left the House of Algar. He walked with purpose, heading straight for the harbor.

The guards at the gate let him through unchallenged, and Dion soon found himself walking along the sandy shore. Passing the lined-up warships, he saw bireme after bireme, with barely enough space between them for a man to walk. They were all drawn up on the shore with just a section of stern in the water. Some showed activity, sailors scrubbing the decks and mending sails. But most of the vessels were still and silent; their crews were done for the day.

Dion headed in the direction of the rectangular hut that was the mess. A hood on the structure’s side funneled black smoke from the cooking hearth within. He saw a marine he knew and waved casually; Dion was just a man carrying supplies.

But inside, Dion’s nerves ran ragged. He couldn’t believe he was going to attempt this, but he could see no other option. He tried to keep calm, but his face was tight and drawn. He knew he still had a black eye and a swollen cheek. It didn’t matter; he wouldn’t be the only man in the sun king’s fleet to have a wound or two.

He entered the mess and scanned the room. The hearth fire was kept constantly lit, banked up twice a day. He saw a few dozen sailors sitting around tables as they ate and he nodded to them. There were hundreds of lidded stone jugs – any fleet needed vast quantities of drinking water – lined up one after another against the wall. Dion picked up an empty jug and strode directly to the open hearth. Taking the tongs, he covered his movements with his body as he placed coal after coal into the jug. He replaced the lid to prevent the giveaway of smoke rising from the container.

Dion then carried the jug and satchel out of the mess. Glancing to the left, he saw the familiar stocky figure of Roxana in the distance, but she hadn’t seen him and he ignored her.

Instead he walked along the row of sixty warships.

Selecting a pair of vessels roughly in the center, he passed along the narrow alleyway formed by the two hulls. He put the satchel and jug on the ground.

Dion returned to the mess, once again nodding to the men who glanced up at his entry. He stopped for a moment as he scanned the room, but then he saw what he was looking for: four buckets stacked one on top of the other. Dion grabbed the buckets and tried to stay calm as he returned to the hidden place between the ships.

He had to work quickly now.

Dion opened the satchel and took out the bulging skin. He divided half the lamp oil among the four buckets, so that each was nearly full. He then stoppered the skin and set it down on the hard sand near the jug.

One by one, he carried the buckets out into the open. He placed them at regular points along the line of ships, where they wouldn’t be missed.

Dion scanned the harbor, but his careful, purposeful movements still hadn’t attracted unwanted attention. He once more slipped between the two ships and took a deep breath to steady himself as he looked at the skin and jug.

Now he had to move as swiftly as he could, for the results of what he was doing would definitely be noticed.

He took the lid off the stone jug and looked inside, relieved to see the coals still hot and smoking. Facing the rippling brown water of the river, Dion reached into the side of the ship at his right, open to circulate air among the oarsmen. He had no tongs, so he tipped the jug to allow two coals to drop onto the wooden planking of the vessel’s interior. He followed with tinder, placed around the coals. When he saw flames, he lifted the skin and poured lamp oil all over the area.

He then went to the ship on his other side, starting fire and pouring lamp oil there also.

Dion hefted the satchel onto his shoulder and left, nearly running, but fighting to keep his movements calm. He had the jug in his hand as he walked along the row, traveling until he’d passed half a dozen ships, and then ducking into the thin space between two more.

He started another fire and poured more lamp oil.

He left the area and continued to walk away from the crowded section, where there were few people who would see him.

Dion entered between two more ships and kept going.