Rather than travel with the ships, Dion was at the lead of a mass of marching men. The armies of Xanthos and Phalesia had been combined into a single force as never before, and formed a long winding column behind him, entirely filling the valley’s floor. The soldiers were all fit and strong, trained to carry their heavy packs and weapons for day after day.
But the same couldn’t be said for the rest of the refugees.
Every able-bodied person between the ages of fourteen and sixty traveled behind the soldiers. This group was far more ragged, stretching back as far as the eye could see, rising over a distant ridge and descending again to the valley Dion had long left behind.
A night of marching, followed by a few hours’ rest hidden in the forest, and then another subsequent night trudging on the Phalesian Way had taken its toll. Now they were in the wild lands surrounding Sindara. Dion could still remember when he had come this way once before, traveling with Chloe, evading furies and giants in what had then been Cinder Fen. The landscape had been rocky and barren, a region of jagged cliffs and steep ravines. Now the underlying structure was the same, but it was home to tall evergreens, lawns of grass, trickling brooks, and chirping birds.
‘Sire . . . King Dion.’ The uniformed officer beside Dion spoke hesitantly. ‘Are we within the borders of the eldran homeland?’
His name was Dimitros and he was a Phalesian captain. Young for his rank, he had light-blue eyes and long black hair tied behind his head with a leather thong. Dion knew what the man wanted to hear, but he couldn’t give him the answer he sought.
‘I’m afraid I can’t say, captain,’ Dion said. ‘I’m only half-eldran. I don’t feel the same bond with this land as those who live here.’
Dimitros nodded in resignation. Dion looked for something he could give him.
‘One thing I can tell you, though,’ Dion said, ‘is that even if we don’t know when we’ve crossed over, the eldren will. We’ll know we’ve made it when we see them.’
‘Ah.’ The captain’s eyes lit up. ‘I see.’ Leaving Dion’s side, he joined some of his comrades to pass along what he’d learned.
Dion had been initially surprised when the Phalesian officers came to him for orders. But he soon realized that with Amos gone, and the consuls and lords traveling with the ships, he was the closest thing they had to a leader. The Xanthian captains already brought their problems to him, so it seemed natural for the Phalesians to do the same. Dion’s first instinct had been to balk and explain that the responsibility wasn’t his. Then he’d seen the hope and fear in the soldiers’ eyes. They desperately needed someone to follow. He couldn’t show them he was as afraid as they were. If he didn’t shoulder the burden, its weight would come down on others.
The sound of marching boots, creaking leather, and gruff men’s voices surrounded him. Dion glanced at the standard bearers. One carried a tall pole crowned with the blue flag of Phalesia, while the other bore the crimson pennant of Xanthos. The captains on Dion’s flanks, men of both nations, chatted quietly, sharing their stories of recent trials and past battles. Dion’s status meant that he was at the very front, the first to break new ground. There were thousands of people behind him, but he had never felt so alone.
The valley floor began to climb, rising toward a forest. The trees were thick, crowded close together, but it wasn’t a true road they were following, and the high ground on both sides was too steep for the column to skirt the trees. They had no choice but to enter.
Someone at Dion’s left suddenly shouted.
His eyes immediately went to the sky as the column came to a halt. He whirled, looking in all directions. Frowning, he lowered his gaze as he tried to see what had startled the man who’d called out.
Then his shoulders relaxed.
A tall, slim figure weaved through the trees, heading toward them. His stride was graceful and easy; there was no doubt he was comfortable in the forest. He had long silver hair, so pale in places that it was almost white, and a crescent scar on his cheek.
Dion smiled. ‘It’s all right,’ he called out.
He glanced at the Phalesian captains; they were nodding, and a few had even raised their hands in greeting. The Phalesians were far more comfortable with the eldren and many knew Zachary personally. Some Xanthians looked worried, others suspicious, but Dion could remember a time when the eldren were feared and despised. Now he and his people were coming to Sindara for help.
Zachary smiled as he left the forest and approached. He looked old, and his skin was pale and dry, with fine lines like parchment. But his gold-flecked eyes were still kind and wise. If anyone could set these men at ease, it was him.
‘Welcome,’ Zachary said, spreading his arms. ‘Welcome to Sindara.’
A soldier whooped, and then another. The news was passed down the column, and what initially began as a ragged cheer became a roar as thousands of people celebrated the knowledge that they had made it to safety. Dion had given them his promise. The dragons wouldn’t follow them here. They might have abandoned their homes, but they were alive.
Dion opened his arms. Zachary stepped forward, and the two men embraced. Dion spoke into the tall eldran’s ear.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘The people who arrived by sea are being well cared for,’ Zachary said.
Dion and Zachary were walking in another valley, this one deep in Sindara’s heart. Lush fields of grass covered the ground in all directions. Steep cliffs towered over the area. A waterfall tumbled down from one of the peaks, forming a wide blue river that entered the valley through the forest and rushed merrily along until it disappeared at the other end.
Dion glanced behind him and smiled. Every time people emerged from the forest, their mouths dropped open as they stopped and stared. Sindara was a place of extreme beauty, filled with bright colors. Gold and crimson flowers dotted the hills. Oak and cedar trees stood proud and tall, their wide boughs casting shade on the green grass. Yellow birds flitted from branch to branch, singing sweet songs.
The summer sun shone overhead, making it close to midday. Dion shielded his eyes and pointed. ‘Is that them?’
The valley was wide enough to accommodate ten times as many people as Dion had brought with him. He was looking at a distant encampment, where a multitude of tents and makeshift shelters had been erected near one of the river’s smaller tributaries. Smoke curled up from campfires, and people walked around, tending to one task or another. From their heavier builds, they obviously weren’t eldren. Dion saw a flag flying above the camp, but couldn’t make out its color.
‘No,’ Zachary said, glancing at Dion. ‘Those are the people of Tanus. They were also forced to evacuate, and have been here for weeks.’
Dion’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘Tanus?’
‘Eiric extended Zanthe the same invitation that he gave to you,’ Zachary said.
Dion shook his head in disbelief. He remembered how difficult it had been for Chloe to broker peace between Sindara and Tanus. Everything had changed.
‘I should tell you, Queen Zanthe is dead,’ Zachary said, meeting Dion’s eyes. ‘She didn’t survive the evacuation. As you probably know, she left no heirs.’
‘Who leads them?’ Dion asked. He and Zachary were passing the camp on their left. It was still distant, but he saw that the flag was brown, as were the uniforms of the soldiers. Recalling what he knew about Tanus, he guessed they must have thousands of soldiers – an army nearly as large as that of Xanthos.
‘The army is in charge,’ Zachary said.
They now followed the course of the wide river; it curved back and forth, but generally headed to the valley’s far end. Looking back the way he’d come, Dion saw that he’d outdistanced the column of refugees, but they weren’t far behind. People in the Tanusian camp were now standing and watching the newcomers with interest.
Dion was eager to see where Zachary was guiding him. They left the river’s edge and crossed an immense field, filled with daisies and buzzing bees.
Gazing ahead, Dion finally saw what he’d been looking for.
There were two flags, flying side by side, one each for Phalesia and Xanthos. At the end of the valley was a new camp, covering a broad field. Fire after fire dotted the area, surrounded by groups of people.
At the sight of so many people safe and well, Dion smiled and clapped Zachary on the back. As he approached with a column of thousands trailing behind him, he saw consuls in white tunics, children under the care of their parents, and priests and priestesses moving from group to group. There were no shelters or tents, but that would soon change.
Then Dion’s steps quickened.
At one of the nearest fires, a young, dark-haired woman with pale skin crouched in front of an old man, talking to him as she handed him a packet of herbs. On the ground beside her was a basket containing piled-up loaves of bread.
‘Chloe!’ Dion called.
Hearing her name, she turned her head. Her face lit up as she broke out in a wide smile. Without finishing whatever she was saying to the old man, she started to run toward him, calling out his name.
Dion opened his arms. She ran into him at full speed, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He wrapped his arms around her, gripping her tightly, feeling his heart soar at the knowledge she was safe. He inhaled the fragrance of her hair and squeezed her close to his chest. Neither of them said anything; it was enough to hold each other.
Eventually Chloe pushed him away, gazing into his eyes. She looked past his shoulder and then called out. ‘You don’t need to stand so far away, Zachary. You brought him to me, just as you promised.’
Zachary spread his arms. ‘If only all promises were so easily fulfilled.’ His smile slowly faded. ‘Now that I have both of you, there is something Eiric asked me to discuss with you.’
Dion forestalled him. ‘We know this is temporary.’
‘I am afraid it must be.’ Zachary looked ashamed. ‘This land cannot support so many. We are hunters and foragers. Most of my people are out there now, trying to bring in as much meat as possible.’
‘There are hunters among us,’ Dion said.
‘And we brought grain from Phalesia,’ Chloe said.
‘Please do not feel unwelcome,’ Zachary said. ‘And I appreciate that you will do what you can, but it is not just you, it is also those from Tanus. They came here with nothing.’
‘Zachary,’ Dion said seriously. ‘Tell King Eiric that I know we can’t stay here forever. This land is not our land. We were meant to fish, farm, and raise livestock. We live in houses.’ He turned to sweep his gaze over the valley. ‘It is now time to plan. We are all in the same place. The armies of three nations are here, in Sindara, as well as you and your people. We will find a way forward.’
35
Two days passed, and the encampment of Xanthos and Phalesia slowly took form. Every soldier’s pack had contained a tent, and soon the field was filled with canvas triangles. Then Roxana took the lead, organizing the craftsmen, carpenters, and woodworkers into groups and setting them to building shelters. The workers were surprised when Zachary asked them to use only dead wood in their structures, but they agreed willingly enough; the last thing they would do was argue with the eldren whose homeland they were now living in.
Soon a vast temporary settlement filled the field in the corner of the broad valley, more than twice the size of Tanus’s camp. It took over an hour to cross from one side to the other, but it was all done to a plan, laid out in a grid. Hunting parties returned from the forest with deer hanging from poles on their shoulders. Young boys and girls fetched water from the river, careful not to sully its waters as their parents had admonished them. While Dion began talks with Tanus, the soldiers of Phalesia and Xanthos trained together, shooting arrows at targets and reassembling the ballistae they had brought with them. Rather than joining their families, the soldiers slept in tents with comrades old and new.
Chloe found herself busier than she had ever been before. It didn’t matter where people were from, they brought her their problems and she found solutions. When too many people came to her looking for lost loved ones, she assigned a dozen women to reunite separated families. When women complained that their soldier husbands were still billeted with their army, she explained that they all couldn’t stay in Sindara forever, and keeping the military disciplined was crucial, but of course their men could visit when they were off duty. When the refugees complained of sickness or injury, she sorted them by urgency and sent them on to the priests and priestesses. Xanthian merchants and villagers from distant places knew her face. They came from all stations and all walks of life, and were far more willing to approach her than the consuls.
It was after dusk, and she was walking through the ramshackle settlement, following what she was starting to think of as a street. She was on her way to see Dion, and knew she could find him in the separate section where the soldiers were based. As she passed tents, huts, and crude shelters on both sides, she was lost in thought, trying to use the few spare moments to reflect on the magic of Aleuthea.
She lifted her gaze when she heard raised voices.
Consul Gaius was with five other consuls. Clad in white tunics, they stood in a circle near a fire, and the flickering light cast by the flames meant Chloe could easily see their expressions. Gaius, a severe-looking man with slicked-back hair, was prodding his palm with his fingertips as he argued with his colleagues in a dismissive tone. Chloe recognized the lanky man with bristling black hair as Felix. In fact, she realized she knew all of them.
One of the other consuls was shouting, trying to speak over Gaius. Chloe frowned when yet another man tried to be heard. Before she knew what she was doing, she stormed over to them, walking with long strides.
‘Now is the time for unity,’ she said, her eyes blazing. ‘Don’t you realize that everyone can see you arguing? And if they can’t see you, they can definitely hear you. This isn’t the lyceum.’
They all turned and looked at her in surprise. Gaius had the grace to look sheepish.
‘Now, what are you arguing about?’ Chloe asked, softening her tone.
They all looked at each other, wondering who would speak first.
‘You know that the conference organized by the king of Xanthos is tonight,’ said Carolas, one of the younger consuls.
‘Of course,’ Chloe said. ‘I was on my way to see him about it.’
‘Well . . .’ Gaius said delicately. ‘It appears that we have yet to choose someone to speak for Phalesia.’
Chloe’s eyes narrowed. ‘How long have you been discussing it?’
‘Not long,’ Gaius said quickly.
Shaking his head, Felix mouthed something to Chloe: All day.
‘I say that it should be Consul Gaius,’ one of the other consuls said. ‘He has a swift mind, and his family has one of Phalesia’s most extensive landholdings.’
‘Gaius the landowner?’ Felix snorted. ‘Look at where we are! There is no land left to own.’
‘I can trace my lineage for nine generations,’ said another consul, a proud-looking man with a haughty expression.
‘I am the longest-serving consul,’ said yet another white-haired consul, the oldest of the group.
‘And yet you have never led a faction,’ Gaius said to him with a sneer.
‘As if your achievements are something to be proud of!’
Their voices rose as the argument resumed. Nearby, Chloe saw passing men and women stop in their tracks, watching with surprise and disbelief.
There was a trick Chloe had learned from her father, a way of speaking with sudden incisiveness, sharply but without extreme volume. ‘That’s enough, from all of you,’ she said. The group was suddenly silent; they weren’t used to being spoken to like children. ‘Just choose someone. This is no time for division.’
Felix rubbed his hairy chin. All of a sudden, he leaned forward and whispered in Consul Carolas’s ear. Carolas looked surprised, thoughts visibly crossing his face before he slowly nodded.
‘What?’ asked the white-haired consul. ‘What are you saying?’
Felix walked over to him and murmured in his ear too. The old consul’s eyebrows shot up. His mouth worked as he wondered what to say. Finally he grumbled, ‘I suppose it could work.’
‘What is it?’ Gaius asked.
Felix’s head kept turning, until he was looking pointedly in Chloe’s direction.
Gaius rubbed his chin. ‘Well, if there were an election, every woman would vote for her, and likely all the men too.’
Felix smiled. Facing Chloe, he gave her a bow, a surprisingly graceful movement coming from his lanky frame. ‘Lady,’ he said, ‘will you speak for the common citizens of Phalesia?’
‘Me?’ Chloe spluttered.
‘Yes, lady, you,’ Gaius said. For once his lips turned upwards. ‘Just temporarily,’ he added. ‘But it is true, you are the best candidate. You don’t belong to any of the factions, and your father’s name still holds much sway. No one doubts your loyalty.’
‘To the people,’ Felix said, still smiling, ‘you are a guiding light.’
A guiding light . . . The phrase connected with something in Chloe’s mind. She had been thinking about Aleuthea before she came across the consuls, trying to come up with a way to use magic against the dragons . . .
She realized that the consuls were all looking at her.
‘Captain Dimitros and the other officers will be there to advise you,’ Felix said. ‘And we all know you are close to the king of Xanthos. Will you represent your people?’
‘Of course I will,’ Chloe said. ‘I would be honored to.’
‘Then—’ Gaius began.
‘I’m sorry. I have to go.’ Chloe’s brow furrowed as she turned away and started walking. She had thought of something, a potential weapon. She needed to speak with Dion immediately.
The conference took place on a grassy hill close to the center of the valley. Torches burned on poles, the flames occasionally pushed sideways by the warm breeze. Representatives of four peoples stood in a wide circle, along with officers in crimson, brown, or blue. The eldren formed a cluster: Eiric, their king; Zachary, his father; and Liana, Eiric’s wife in all but name. Another group was made up of captains from Tanus. Nearby, Phalesian officers chatted quietly with their Xanthian allies.
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