Dragon Call (The Throne of the Dragon Queen Book 2)

by Clare Smith

  Of course he couldn’t read the message as it had been written in code, but Sillin had transcribed it for him and had then left him to consider the consequences of what had taken place, so far from his controlling hand. His steward had left in silence not knowing what to say, and in all honesty he didn’t know what to say either. He should have been angry that his letter to the Passonians had been intercepted and his decision that his people would be indentured to them had been overruled by a pirate.

  He should have been angry, but he wasn’t. Instead he was relieved, and the guilt he’d felt weighing heavily on his soul had been lifted. It was more than that though, he was overjoyed at the news the little bird had brought. Not only was he no longer responsible for the enslavement of his people, but his son and the seeker he loved like a daughter were both alive. There was hope too that together they could find a way to hold back the ice and save Kallisan.

  It was far more than he could have ever hoped for or deserved. He’d prayed to the Great God for his help, and when his hand hadn’t melted the ice, he’d lost his faith, but he should have known that Jurro moved in mysterious ways and wouldn’t let his followers down. He felt ashamed at his lack of trust and quietly slipped from his chair onto his knees, where he prayed for Jurro’s forgiveness for his weakness and Jurro’s strength for his son and the priestess along with the success of their mission.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Apollo’s Temple

  The Caves of Kriphis and Delphi

  Amalaya reached out and took the gemstone into her hands and held it tightly to her. Sometime in the night she must have let it roll free, as she had woken with that emptiness once again inside of her. Now that she held it in her hand the feeling had left her, and she felt complete and at peace. She had dreamed though, the oddest of dreams; that she’d travelled to lands stranger than any she could imagine and had met herself, but in a different form.

  In the dream there had been a man, and she could picture his face now in the moment before he’d collapsed. She thought that perhaps she had killed him and regretted what she’d done, but then shook her head in denial. It had only been a dream and people didn’t die in dreams no matter how vivid they were. People did die of hunger though, and if she didn’t get up and find something to eat soon, she would be amongst them.

  She stood, feeling surprisingly rested considering she’d spent the night on a cold stone floor, and reluctantly started to make her way out of the cave. It would have been good to stay there as the place made her feel safe, but all the food she had was back at the other cave, along with all the things she needed to survive. Perhaps when she was more confident moving around by herself, she could bring everything back here, but for the moment she needed the familiarity of the place she knew well.

  That thought made her smile as she followed the wall of the cave towards the entrance, but that didn’t last long. By the time she’d drawn close to the cave mouth, her feelings of being protected here had left her, and the enormity of what she had to do struck her. For a start she had no idea where her own cave was or how to get back to it, as she’d been hopelessly lost when she’d stumbled onto this refuge.

  Then there was the wolf that had chased her which could be waiting outside ready to pounce on her. If this were the wolf’s territory, then it would be sheer foolishness to come back here even if she could find it. The thought of the wolf waiting for her, and the almost impossible task of finding her way back to her cave made her hesitate and stop, too afraid to go on.

  Almost without thinking about it, she took the gemstone from her belt pouch, where she’d placed it, and held it tightly. A feeling of strength and energy washed over her, and for a moment she felt as if she could just run from the cave, launch herself into the air and fly away. The sensation rapidly disappeared, but now she felt much better, so she stepped forward again, slowly and cautiously, until she reached the entrance to the cave.

  Yesterday the ravine had felt cold and damp, but this morning it felt pleasantly warm and she could feel the sun shining into the cave mouth where she stood. She supposed that if the ravine was narrow with high sides, the sun would only reach it for a few hours a day, and the rest of the time it would be in shadow. That gave her some idea of which direction the cave mouth faced, and whilst it was of little use to her now, it might help her to find it again.

  Of more use was the sound of running water. She remembered that a stream ran down the centre of the defile, and that she had drunk from it shortly after she had passed between the rocks which hid the valley from view. If she could follow the sound of the water and then walk by the stream’s edge, she might be able to find her way out. How she would find her way after that was another problem, but she would face that when she came to it.

  Ignoring the nagging fear that the wolf might still be waiting for her, she put the gemstone back in her pouch and took a step forwards. She’d only taken half a dozen steps when a sudden noise made her stop and freeze. Over to the right there had been the sound of something pushing through the bushes, and whatever it was, it was coming closer, as she could hear the stones moving beneath its feet.

  She wanted to scream and run but her fear prevented her doing either, so instead, she held her breath whilst her heart pounded in her ears. When the creature reached her and butted her in the thigh with its small head, she staggered back in shock, tripped and sat down hard. The creature didn’t stop there though, but came to her and started nuzzling her hand searching for milk and bleating pitifully.

  An almost hysterical sob escaped her as she reached out and touched the curly hair of a small kid which was sucking at her fingers. A moment later there was a responding bleat from the kid’s mother, and the loud clanging of a bell as the old nanny led the herd into the valley. Now she did cry but in relief, as she clutched the kid to her and the familiar goats milled around.

  On unsteady legs she stood and waited for her heart to slow, and then untied her belt and slipped it through the collar of the herd leader’s neck. It was early, and the herd hadn’t been milked yet, so with any luck they would lead her back to her cave. She just hoped they would take an easy path and wouldn’t go mountain climbing on their way home, as she didn’t think she was up to that.

  *

  Pellecus dragged persistently on the reins attached to the horse’s harness until the animal responded to the command and pulled the cart off the narrow, rocky pathway and onto the wider road which ran from Athens to Delphi. He couldn’t blame his horse for its reluctance, as he had no enthusiasm for reaching their destination either. It wasn’t just that though; the horse was tired from the long journey and could barely put one hoof in front of another.

  He wasn’t much better, as driving through the heat of the day without resting and then the dark of the night without stopping had left him bone weary. The sad thing about it was there really had been no need for such haste. He’d had at least a half day’s start on Amalaya, and there was no way the girl was ever going to catch up with him.

  If leaving her behind hadn’t been so hard he would have given his horse more consideration, but the look of love and trust she had given him as he’d stood there and lied to her, had almost torn his heart in two. The truth of the matter was that once the time had come for him to go, he just wanted to get as far away from the blind priestess as quickly as he could. As a consequence the poor beast was suffering, but there again they both were.

  Like him the horse had once been a warrior and had known the joys of battle. It had been a fine beast with a glossy coat, and a neck which had arched proudly as it carried its master at the head of a Spartan phalanx. Now it was underfed, with protruding ribs, and a coat which was marred with dust and grime. In time, with good food and care, the horse would recover its strength and looks, but he wondered if its spirit would always carry the scars of having been reduced to the ignominy of pulling a cart.

  It was the same for him. He’d once been strong and proud, but the months o
f menial toil and living off the land had weakened him. He had no doubt that he would recover his physical strength and perhaps even wear his officer’s plumes again, but the other scars would always be there.

  If any of his men or another officer had ever dared to call him a coward, he would have challenged them for his honour and killed them where they stood, but in reality that is what he was. When the time had come to end Amalaya’s life, he’d been too much of a coward to use his sword and end it quickly, and instead he’d left her to die a slow, lingering death. He’d consoled himself by saying that he loved her too much to slay her, which was true, except that if he had truly loved her, then he wouldn’t have wanted her to suffer.

  He shook his head in confusion at the contradiction, and looked down at the sword which lay on the seat beside him. The blade had been given to him by his father at his manhood ceremony, and he’d made a vow to always use it with honour. It had taken many lives in its time, wielded by his hand, but those people had deserved to die, whilst Amalaya hadn’t.

  Perhaps Athena had found out about the task Artemis had set him, and it was she who had held back his hand. The deities worked in mysterious ways and often argued amongst themselves, so it was possible that Athena had intervened at the last moment to save both her handmaiden and his honour. The thought of his betrayal being the consequence of a disagreement between two goddesses made him frown, and he was still frowning when he looked up and saw that his destination had come into view.

  Up ahead was Delphi, where he would have to give an account of himself, and a reason why he’d failed to complete his assigned task. He supposed he could lie and say that he’d killed the blind priestess when she failed to have a foretelling. If he was believed, then his penance would be done and he would be free to leave, but he guessed that a goddess would be able to detect a lie, and the punishment for deceit was likely to be far worse than that for failure.

  Resigned to be punished one way or another, he drove his horse through the Milciados Gate and along the Sacred Way. He’d expected to be able to drive his horse almost up to the temple of Apollo, but was stopped before he reached anywhere near it by two acolytes in short, white robes who had clearly been waiting to intercept him.

  “Pellecus of Sparta?” the eldest of the two enquired.

  “I am, and you are?”

  “That is unimportant. The only thing that matters is that the High Priestess awaits you at the Temple of Athena and you are to attend her immediately.”

  “The High Priestess from the Great Temple is here in Delphi?” he asked in surprise, knowing that Athena’s chosen rarely left the Acropolis in Athens.

  The acolyte looked annoyed that he should question her word. “Yes, and she demands your attention immediately, now go, she does not like to be kept waiting by the likes of you.”

  He gave a sigh of resignation and went to turn his horse around, but the acolyte took hold of its bridle. “Only those who come in supplication may approach the goddess’s temple, and that doesn’t include your horse. You may collect it from the hostel set aside for high ranking visitors when the High Priestess has finished with you.”

  “You’re so kind,” he said caustically, but the Acolyte ignored him.

  The Temple of Athena was only another half mile away, but on the far side of Delphi and higher up the mountain of Parnassus. He was tired and didn’t want to walk that far, but there was really nothing he could do about it. Irritably he climbed down from the cart and began walking. The quickest way was to follow the Sacred Way and, if there was no one about, cut through Apollo’s temple, but when he reached there, a dozen or so guards stood outside.

  As weapons weren’t allowed within the temple precinct, none of them were armed, but one of them held a magnificent horse which looked trained for war, and could be used as a deadly weapon without anyone having to draw steel. That meant someone important was inside consulting the Oracle and he cursed his bad luck. If he couldn’t take the short cut through Apollo’s domain, he would have to walk around the outside of the temple to reach the Fuente Gate, as well as half a mile up the hillside.

  Still cursing he trudged on, wishing that he’d thought to bring a water skin with him. It was hot under the noonday sun and the climb was steep enough to make him breathe hard and for sweat to run down his arms and drip from his finger ends. By the time he reached the Temple of Athena he was exhausted, and out of breath, energy and patience.

  Despite that he couldn’t help but to admire the temple which stood before him. It was smaller than the Great Temple in Athens or even Apollo’s temple which he’d left behind, but what it lacked for in size, it made up for in grace and beauty. The temple was raised on a plinth and was perfectly round with twenty columns on the outside and ten columns on the inside, surrounding the altar and the statue of Athena.

  Whilst it wasn’t the highest structure on the mountainside, it commanded a magnificent view across the olive groves and the valley below. He also guessed that its open structure would give the spectators in the stadium, higher up the mountain, an unobstructed view of the statue, so they could call on the goddess’s favour without leaving their seats. If he had the time he could climb up to the stadium to find out, but for now he was too tired and had other things on his mind.

  He started to climb up the three steps which led to the temple, but stopped abruptly as a figure in a dark robe stepped out from between the exterior columns. She was an older woman who had clearly been beautiful in her youth, but that beauty had been marred by a severely turned down mouth, frown lines and hard set eyes. He recognised her instantly as the woman who had intercepted him before he’d entered the Temple of Artemis in Athens, and had led him to where the blind priestess had lain in the cart.

  Then he’d assumed that she served Artemis, but by the owl-shaped pendant she now wore around her neck, he guessed that he’d been wrong. That thought worried him. He’d been told that Artemis had set him the task, which was to recompense her for the spirit of the white heart he’d stolen. However, it now appeared that his detailed instructions had come not from one of the handmaidens of that goddess, but from a priestess of Athena.

  He didn’t have time to think about the implications now as the woman was beckoning him forward with a deep scowl on her face.

  “You’re late,” she snapped. “The High Priestess is waiting for you.”

  She didn’t wait for a response but stalked off, so he had no option but to follow. He hurried up the three steps behind her trying to brush the dust from his body and straighten his tunic, but without wash water and clean clothes it was difficult to make himself look presentable. The priestess turned and glared at him for his tardiness, and then waived him on through the magnificent arches which joined the outer circle of pillars, and into the inner circle where he abruptly stopped.

  Relations between Athens and Sparta had been strained for many years, so he’d never had the chance to go to the Great Temple on the Acropolis. He’d been told there was a golden statue of Athena there, which was magnificent and a wonder to behold, although he’d never seen it. Whatever it looked like, he doubted it could be any more beautiful than the statue which stood in front of him, despite it being only half the size.

  He stared at it mesmerised and, for a moment, was oblivious of the woman who knelt in front of it. Only when she stood and faced him did he realise that her beauty equalled that of the statue. There could be no doubt who she was, so he bowed deeply and went down on his knees.

  She studied him with a critical eye and then walked to where he knelt. “You are the one they call Pellecus?” she asked, her voice deep and mellow.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “You have news for me of a foretelling?”

  “No, my lady of Athena, the blind priestess had no foretelling during the time permitted.”

  “She is dead then?”

  This was the moment of truth. He’d no idea of what was going on between the Temple of Artemis and the Temple of Athena, such that he
’d been given the task by one but answered to the other. Whatever it was he didn’t want to be caught in the middle of it.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  The High Priestess looked at him for a long time with a frown on her face. “She died by your sword?” she asked eventually.

  He hesitated for a moment not wanting to dishonour his sword with such a lie. “No, my lady, it was a beast that took her.”

  “Sybaris?”

  He’d heard of the creature which was meant to haunt the caves on Mount Kriphis, but it was only a myth. “No, my lady, it was a wolf.”

  The High Priestess nodded but the frown remained. “Very well Pellecus, your task has been completed.”

  Pellecus looked up with hope in his eyes. “Am I free then to return to Sparta?”

  “Yes, but not yet. A period of prayer and contemplation is required, and offerings must be made to all the temples in Delphi. When you have completed that you will escort me and my companion back to Athens, after which you will be absolved and may return to your previous life.”

  He resisted the temptation to sigh. There were at least a dozen temples around Delphi, and by the time he’d visited them all, another two weeks would have passed. Not only that, but his small supply of gold would have diminished to nothing whilst he purchased offerings and paid for his accommodation.

  Irreverently he wondered whether the required period of contemplation was more to do with filling Delphi’s coffers than making him a better man. The only compensation was that it would give him and his horse a chance to rest before the long journey back to Sparta via Athens.

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  He waited until the High Priestess had returned to the altar before he stood and began making his way to the hostel where he hoped someone had really taken care of his horse and hadn’t stolen it and all his possessions.

  Sissinia watched him until he was out of sight and then returned to the inner temple where the High Priestess was waiting for her. “Well, my sister, what do you think to Pellecus’s account?”