Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1) (26 page)

42

Chloe woke after yet another sleep of exhaustion. She saw some flatbread and water just inside the doorway and realized the guards had visited her while she was asleep. She swiftly ate and drank in thirsty gulps, before climbing to her feet and gripping the iron bars of the grill as she peered at the distant cell.

‘Triton?’ she called. ‘Are you there?’

She had spent hours speaking with him, deep in discussion. He had asked her about her home and she had questioned him further about his plans for revenge on the sun king.

But as she continued to call out, silence greeted her words. She tilted her head, perplexed. Somehow, the eldran king was gone.

Hearing footsteps, she saw a pair of palace soldiers enter the prison. One of the soldiers sniffed and made a sound of disgust.

‘What time is it?’ Chloe asked. ‘How long have I been in here? What do you intend to do with me?’

‘Quiet,’ the guard in front grunted. ‘Stand with your back against the wall.’

Chloe felt frustration course through her as she complied. The guard slid the bolt and then hauled the door open.

‘Turn around and put your arms behind your back. Walk backwards until you reach me.’

Chloe followed the instructions and then felt a rough hand go around her wrist as her arm was twisted painfully behind her back. The soldier used his leverage to turn her around. Remembering what Tomarys had taught her, she let them handle her as they wanted; she knew she had to present the image of a weak, defenseless girl.

They marched her out of the prison, along rough corridors and through a hall filled with dozens of eating soldiers. Seeing that it was daylight – late afternoon, she guessed – she recognized something of where she was, and inadvertently glanced outside to the paved section with spiky plants. She shivered when she saw that the stake was gone.

She soon found herself climbing steps and then approaching the palace’s main entrance. Crossing the courtyard, she took note of the external gates, located close to the entrance leading to the throne room.

The guard then twisted Chloe’s arm further, making her gasp with pain. She pretended to collapse, making the two guards work together to prop her up.

The guard holding her wrist cursed. ‘Walk, girl. Don’t make us drag you.’

Chloe nodded as she grimaced. She drew in a deep breath and put one step in front of the other, carefully, walking like her father when he was trying not to appear drunk. The other guard grunted.

They led her around a corner and then down a corridor, finally approaching the throne room.

Chloe saw that all the courtiers were present. The short lord in orange robes who had been her ally when she’d first given tea to the sun king now scowled at her. The dark-eyed magus in yellow nodded smugly.

Then she saw something that nearly made her stop. Triton turned as he watched her approach, and he was unguarded. Revealed in the light, the missing eye made him appear ugly and sinister.

At Solon’s right hand stood Kargan, arms folded over his barrel chest. His mop of oiled black hair and curled beard still didn’t come close to covering his broad, swarthy face. He wore yet another sumptuous silk robe, this one yellow and white.

Chloe’s gaze went to Solon.

He showed none of his previous pain, and although his eyes were still shadowed, they now burned with the strength of fanaticism. Despite his illness he dominated the room, his presence filling the space as he looked down from his throne.

Then Chloe realized something new. His golden throne was gone. He sat on a new throne, bigger than the last, but this time made of ornate ebony.

His throne had gone to feed the pyramid’s hunger. He knew he was dying. Chloe was glad for it; she only hoped he died sooner. She couldn’t believe she’d once felt sympathy for him.

‘Chloe of Phalesia,’ Solon said. ‘The eldran king tells me you were trying to convince him to side with your people against me.’

‘As I said,’ Triton spoke in a soft voice, only glancing at her briefly, ‘I am prepared to make a bargain. Inside the ark at Phalesia is something of great importance to me. I am prepared to fight by your side, king of kings. We will change for you, and dominate the air, land, and sea. As serpents we will neutralize the enemy navy and as dragons and giants we will wage war. In return, you can have your conquest, and you can have the gold. All I want is what is inside.’

Chloe’s mouth dropped open.

Solon turned his gaze on her. ‘Girl, you are here to demonstrate your continued usefulness to me. Consider this a test that may be your last. Guard, if I give the command . . .’ He paused. ‘Kill her.’

The guard who held Chloe’s arm twisted behind her back put his free hand on the hilt of his sword.

‘Now,’ Solon said to her. ‘Tell me about the approach to Phalesia.’

Chloe swallowed. ‘There’s a clear approach from the sea. The navy patrols regularly.’

Kargan spoke in his deep baritone. ‘What about the approach to Xanthos?’

‘Xanthos?’ Chloe’s brow furrowed. ‘The isle of Coros provides a barrier around the harbor, with only one channel usable. You must pass Phalesia first. Our fleet protects Xanthos.’

‘Is Xanthos not approachable from both directions?’ Kargan persisted.

Chloe shook her head. ‘The Shards protect the city – a stretch of jagged rocks in the other channel. They would tear any boat to pieces.’

‘And there is no route through the Shards?’ Kargan raised an eyebrow.

‘No,’ Chloe said. ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

Solon nodded. ‘Now, tell me of the land route between Phalesia and Xanthos.’

‘There’s a mountainous road. It climbs the hills outside Xanthos and travels through the pass, the Gates of Annika. After the pass the road is easier to travel. It drops gradually, passing through farmland, until it reaches Phalesia.’

‘Chloe,’ Solon said softly. ‘There is one within the court of Xanthos who tells me of a passage through the Shards. He gives detailed directions. This man also tells me he has sent the army of Xanthos to Phalesia. The city is defenseless.’

Chloe drew in a sharp intake of breath.

Kargan spoke into the silence, directing his words to the assembled gathering. ‘We could swiftly seize the city and move immediately to take the pass before they are aware. This would enable us to hold Xanthos while the fleet moves on to Phalesia. Two nations would fall to the sword of Ilea, without any opportunity for a drawn out, protracted siege. If,’ he finished, looking up at Solon, ‘this man’s words are true.’

‘He wishes to be king, a satrap under my rule,’ Solon said. ‘I see no reason to doubt him. If his information leads to the easy conquest of two lands, he can have what he—’

A soldier burst into the throne room. ‘Fire!’ he cried. ‘The harbor is burning! Our ships are on fire!’

Kargan instantly ran to the terrace and returned a moment later. His face was filled with horror. ‘It’s true. By the gods . . .’

A din filled the room as some men ran to the terrace while others shot to the windows. A single voice rose above the cries of confusion.

‘King of kings!’ Triton called out. ‘Remove this collar. Let me prove myself. I will change for you. Let me put out your fires.’

Thoughts visibly crossed Solon’s face as he made a quick decision. ‘Do it,’ he said.

A soldier drew his sharp dagger and slid it between the collar and Triton’s skin as the eldran king grimaced. The blade cut through the thin band of gold as it fell to the floor.

Chloe was overwhelmed by the chaos as Triton ran to the terrace, calling for everyone to clear the area. Smoke suddenly filled the air outside, a thickening cloud that shimmered, completely enveloping the eldran within.

Kargan growled, assembling soldiers behind him as he ran in the direction of the palace gates. Solon screamed for silence. The sound of huge wings pushing at the air came from outside, clearing the smoke so that for a moment Chloe saw the reptilian form of a silver-scaled dragon flying into the sky outside.

Despite the confusion, Chloe realized that she had to do something to warn the king and his family in Xanthos.

For they had a traitor in their midst.

43

Fires blazed on dozens of warships made entirely of timber. Sparks flew through the air, tossed around by the constant sea breeze. Masts came crashing down as the supports holding them crumbled into kindling. Every time he heard a crash, Dion felt a surge of triumph, for the longest pieces would certainly spread the flames from one ship to the next.

With flickers of firelight banishing the encroaching night, he ran along the line of burning ships, pointing men in the direction of oil-filled buckets and taking one himself, his face covered in soot as he tossed lamp oil onto flame, pretending to fight the blaze. Smoke filled his nostrils and burned at the back of his throat. The heat was growing so intense in the area that some of the sailors were giving up, heading to fend off the flames where the ships were still undamaged.

He’d thrown his satchel and the jug onto the last of the fires, leaving no evidence. He even threw some buckets of actual water onto a burning vessel, choosing an inferno he knew was past the point of saving. A sailor ran up and grabbed his arm, pointing at a ship that had so far escaped the fury. Dion nodded and pointed at the empty bucket in his hand while the sailor ran away.

All around him men were crying out to one another, with little cohesion to their movements. He saw Roxana pulling a few of the sailors together, organizing a crew to ferry water up from the river, with each man passing a bucket along the line. She saw him and waved, but Dion turned his head as if he hadn’t seen her.

He had done what he could here, and he now had to flee the city and give warning to his family. Checking that Roxana’s attention was occupied, he twisted his leg to the side and feigned a severe limp. Grimacing as he hobbled along, he headed for the exit.

He was just approaching the gate – now unguarded, for everyone was fighting the harbor fire – when he heard something new in the nature of the cries.

Despite his desire to get away, Dion looked over his shoulder. He stopped in his tracks, stunned by what he saw.

A winged dragon, a scaly monster with a missing eye and a wedge-shaped head, plunged down from the sky, landing on a patch of clear shore and shifting form even as it landed. The air around it wavered and mist filled the air. The gray clouds elongated and then dispersed.

Suddenly the dragon was a serpent, long and thick, a true leviathan. Wriggling like an immense snake the creature slithered into the water until it was fully immersed.

It followed the shore until it was abreast of a line of burning warships.

The leviathan lunged forward until most of its scaled form shot into the air. It brought its body down and a torrent of water erupted as waves rolled into the shore. The water enveloped the ships and the serpent convulsed again. This time the volume of water was even greater: a mighty inundation that doused raging flames in a heartbeat.

Dion watched as the huge serpent traveled along the shore, sending surging water at the burning ships with every leap of its body. It worked tirelessly to control the fires, and after their initial shock, the men at the harbor realized what was happening and redoubled their efforts as they cheered it on.

This was no wildran, Dion realized, but an eldran. Somehow, Solon had enlisted an eldran into his service. And in its changed form it made even the gigantic serpent that had cleared the narrows look small.

Dion shook himself. He realized he was still standing in the gate where he could easily be seen. He had to go back to the House of Algar to fetch his bow. Then he would find the
Calypso
and sail as quickly as he could to Xanthos. He had destroyed a great portion of the Ilean fleet. But the attack would still come.

He had to warn his people.

44

The stench of wood smoke now drifted into the palace. Triton had just altered his shape, flying from the terrace in the form of a dragon. Kargan had left the palace by the front, several hastily gathered soldiers in tow.

Chloe still hadn’t moved a muscle. She stood in front of Solon’s throne. The men who guarded the audience chamber were in disarray: some out on the terrace watching the harbor fire, others running with courtiers in the same direction as Kargan, and the remaining few uncertain, milling around without orders. Solon was in the midst of a coughing fit. A single guard held Chloe’s arm twisted behind her back. The second man in her escort stood nearby, his mouth open and brow furrowed as he wondered what to do.

Tomarys suddenly spoke in Chloe’s mind, as clearly as if he were standing right next to her.

‘
Winning means choosing the right moment. You want your ene
mies to be distracted. Then, when you take action, be bold. Be strong. Be confident. Nothing is more powerful than the warrior who will achieve his objective or die trying.
’

Chloe let her body continue to be limp as she drew in a slow, steadying breath. She closed her eyes and opened them. She resisted the urge to try to move in order to test the strength of the guard’s arm lock.

‘
The key is to use surprise. You are a woman, and surprise is your main strength, for they will not be expecting you to have any skill or power.
’

Chloe felt her chest rise and fall and fought to keep her breath even. Blood roared in her ears. Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest.

She allowed rage to feed her and clamp down on the fear. She wondered which of the palace guards had cut off Princess Yasmina’s ears and nose. How many had worked together to behead the girl? Who had held the whip as Tomarys was flayed? Which of them had followed Solon’s orders to impale the big man, piercing a sharp wooden stake through his guts? She wondered if it even mattered – all of them would follow Solon’s orders if he asked them to do the same thing to her.

Chloe imagined she was once more practicing with Tomarys in the arena. She felt his arms around her as he made his demonstrations. She remembered her own practice. She knew she couldn’t hesitate; she had to get the move right, and get it right first time.

‘Thank you, Tomarys,’ she whispered.

‘What did you say?’ the guard snarled.

When she moved, Chloe put every bit of strength she possessed into the spin. She sent breath whistling out of her chest in one swift gust, grunting and making a savage cry she had never heard come out of her own lips.

Chloe turned in the direction of her free arm. Caught by surprise, the guard suddenly found himself releasing her, unable to fight the force of her whole body. Like an uncoiling spring she whirled, making a point with her elbow and bringing it higher than her head as she moved.

The roar was still in her lips as her elbow crashed into the soldier’s face. She felt nothing but triumph as she made contact. Something broke in his face. Blood poured from his mouth and nose. The soldier cried out in agony and put his hands to his nose as his head tilted back so that he was staring at the ceiling. Her body completed the turn, and Chloe now used the elbow once more. She didn’t hesitate; she jabbed it into the soldier’s exposed throat, as hard as she could.

He crumpled, and she doubted he would move again.

‘
Nothing is more powerful than the warrior who will achieve his objective or die trying.
’

Her second guard’s eyes were wide open with shock. Rather than turn to run, and have him grapple her from behind, Chloe charged. She went for his hand as he reached for his sword; at the same time she smashed the top of her head into his nose.

Tomarys had always said this was a useful move, given her shorter height. He’d said it was exceptionally painful, but that she couldn’t allow herself to feel sympathy; she must be like stone. Chloe brought her head up and pushed with her legs, feeling the guard’s nose crunch like gravel beneath a boot heel. When he cried out she made a knife-edge with her hand and struck his wrist at the joint.

His hand came away from the sword.

It was now her sword.

She drew it in a single movement and ran the guard through, immediately withdrawing the blade as blood poured out. The soldier moaned and fell down.

Chloe didn’t wait to scan the room or give the other soldiers time to attack. She had thought this plan through and taken her bearings. She knew that there were no more guards between her and the exterior courtyard.

Still carrying the sword, wondering at the heavy blade that for some reason felt as light as a feather, she started to sprint.

A ragged voice called after her – Solon was still in the throes of his coughing fit. ‘Stop her!’

Cries followed her as she left the throne room and traveled along corridors she knew well. She passed a steward who dashed to the side with a cry at the young woman with the blood-drenched sword rushing past.

Running through the palace’s main portal and reaching the courtyard, she crossed the area of paths and gardens in seconds.

On the far side, three soldiers guarded the wide gate. Two stood out in the street, shielding their eyes from the late afternoon glare as they looked down at the harbor. The third saw Chloe coming. His mouth opened as he started to speak.

Her sword point found his throat. He clutched his hands around his neck and fell to his knees.

Chloe speared the next guard in the back, directly between his shoulder blades. The last one turned and raised his sword to block. Weaving to the side, she kept her sword point up and then when he moved to intercept, she did something he wasn’t expecting.

Chloe knew more about fighting without a sword than with one. Giving up a weapon would be unthinkable to a swordsman. But she wasn’t like them.

She threw the sword like a knife. It made for a clumsy throw, but he was forced to prevent sharp steel striking his body by moving himself. With his attention distracted she shifted around him and then with his back to her she brought her clenched fist into his kidney.

He grunted with pain. When he turned to face her, she brought her knee up between his legs. He dropped like a felled tree, tilting to one side and tumbling to the ground. She bent to pick up the sword she’d thrown, then hacked at his neck.

She now had to find fresh clothing and the sword would only get in the way. Tossing the weapon, just a girl, weak and defenseless, she ran away from the palace.

Chloe was free.