Copper Chain (The Shifting Tides Book 3)

by James Maxwell

  He returned the smile. ‘Well done. That is enough for today, but now, when you experience the wind, try to imagine it without temperature, without sound. You will feel your mind stretching. It is like mental gymnastics. Heat doesn’t actually require light, but we associate them so much that we think they belong together. Sound can move through metal or water as well as air, but we think of it as carried on the wind. It is about separating and identifying what makes each of the four materia unique.’

  ‘What else can I practice?’

  ‘You are eager, but be careful of pushing too hard. For now, sit far enough from a fire that you can look at the flames and imagine them to be cold. This gives you practice with light. The visual representation of the fire – the flames – is separate to the heat, which comes from the coals. Stare up at the moon on a cold night.’ He paused. ‘Then, after allowing your mind some rest, sit close to a fire, shut your eyes, and instead concentrate on the warmth, without light. Strike a copper bell and remember that sound and wind do not need to belong together. Separate. Separate. You understand?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Good. Remember to meditate, and to give yourself time to recover. You have a question?’

  ‘What you said earlier. The Oracle truly played a part in the destruction of Aleuthea?’

  ‘Yes, she did. And there may yet be more work to be done.’

  10

  Dion closed his eyes and inhaled deeply; the sea air in Xanthos always smelled like home. Opening his eyes, his city soon came into view as the trireme rounded a headland. He saw the lofty Royal Palace with its gardened terraces standing proud and tall, flying crimson flags that snapped in the breeze. Nearby the bronze hoplite statue outside the Temple of Balal glistened in the bright rays of the sun. The cleft of the river that divided the narrow city into two halves, residential and royal, was hard to make out with so many warships pulled up onto the shore.

  As the Liberty approached, a crowd of people waited on the sandy beach to greet their return. His uncle was absent – no doubt busy with one thing or another – but Roxana waited along with a group of sailors, cheering and waving as the Liberty picked a clear patch of shore and executed a series of skillful maneuvers to slot itself neatly between a pair of two smaller biremes.

  The crew plunged into the water, hauling the vessel high above the tide line and then, after the gangway slid out, Dion was the first to disembark, with Cob and Finn following after him. Roxana, Dion’s master of the fleet, came forward. A stocky woman with weathered skin and short, sun-bleached hair, she opened her arms and wrapped them around him, slapping him on the back.

  ‘Sire,’ she said gruffly. ‘Welcome home.’ Releasing Dion, she then turned to Cob. ‘So, Cobrim, it appears you brought my ship back in one piece. Or is there damage I can’t see?’ Her eyes narrowed as she cast a critical gaze over the vessel.

  ‘She’s in better condition than when we left,’ Cob said defensively.

  ‘Give me an hour with her, and I’ll let you know if I agree.’

  As she loomed over him, Cob was taken aback, until she suddenly barked a laugh and pulled him forward into a hug twice as tight as the one she’d given Dion. ‘It’s good to see you, little man.’

  Dion glanced at Finn, who grinned. While Roxana and Cob caught up, Dion inclined his head, waiting for Finn to follow him a little way from the group.

  ‘What is it?’ Finn asked, becoming serious when he saw Dion’s expression.

  Dion rubbed his chin, gathering his thoughts. Finn was his master of trade. He was known everywhere in the city and also ran the spy network of the Free Men, which reached far and wide.

  ‘I want you to do something for me,’ Dion said. ‘Find out anything you can about the history of Aleuthea. I’m particularly interested in anything related to their abilities . . . We’re talking about magic, here. You understand?’

  Finn frowned as he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. ‘There are things they left behind. Statues . . . Ceramics . . .’

  ‘I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I’ll know it when I see it. Offer good silver to anyone who brings you artifacts that tell us something about Aleuthea. Talk to your people.’

  ‘You’re worried.’

  ‘I am.’

  While in Malakai, Finn had casually questioned some of the merchants he’d been trading with and had heard tales of the eerie sandstorm that struck the city’s defenders precisely as Palemon attacked.

  ‘You think it’s true, about this wind?’

  ‘I don’t know yet what I believe,’ Dion said. ‘That’s why I need you to do this for me.’

  ‘I’ll do whatever I can.’

  ‘Thank you, my friend.’ Dion clasped Finn on the shoulder. He then glanced at the palace. ‘Now it’s time for me to do something I haven’t been looking forward to.’

  ‘I still don’t see why you had to go yourself. You left me with a thousand matters unattended to.’

  ‘I’m sure you resolved them all, Uncle.’

  Pacing the throne room, furnished only by the empty wooden chair on its raised dais, Glaukos scowled. ‘A king has duties.’

  ‘And many of those duties are given to people in the royal council, people I trust. My father had several advisers.’

  ‘Yet you took your master of trade with you!’

  ‘I needed him.’

  A tall, lean man with neatly combed gray hair and patrician features, Dion’s chief adviser turned on his heel to glare at his nephew. ‘I hope it was worth it.’

  ‘Uncle, there was cause to be worried, and still is. These newcomers . . . I believe they truly are the descendants of Aleuthea.’

  Glaukos snorted. ‘You’re not serious . . .’

  ‘I am.’ Dion refused to be intimidated. ‘I met their king. His name is Palemon, and he claims to be in direct lineage from the same Palemon who fought the eldren. His soldiers wear strange armor, and their weapons are unlike anything I’ve seen before. He conquered Malakai at the first attempt.’

  ‘Malakai is far from here.’ Glaukos shook his head. ‘And the population has long resented the yoke of Ilea. Your father would have been the first to tell you that conquering a city and keeping it are two very different things. Whoever this warlord is, he’ll soon be busy trying to hold on to his new kingdom. There is no way Kargan of Ilea will let it stand.’

  ‘Palemon isn’t going to stop with Malakai.’

  ‘So his army is that powerful?’ Glaukos finally stopped pacing. ‘How many are they?’

  ‘Not big in number. But they have magic . . .’

  ‘Magic?’ Glaukos raised an eyebrow. ‘Bah. Listen to yourself.’

  ‘Enough, Uncle,’ Dion said through gritted teeth. ‘Let me just say that it pays to be prepared. There are many more Aleutheans than I saw. Palemon left them behind, somewhere across the sea, and will fight until he has a fleet to go back for them.’

  He decided to leave unsaid that Palemon had wanted the Liberty to be the first member of his new fleet.

  ‘He sounds like a man with many problems, and even more delusions.’

  ‘If you’d been there, you might understand,’ Dion said. ‘At any rate, I plan to double our naval patrols and post a heavy guard on the fleet at night.’

  ‘For how long? It will cost us.’

  ‘For as long as necessary.’

  The two men glared at each other, and then Glaukos relented. ‘You are the king. You must do what you think is necessary.’

  With an effort of will, Dion regained his composure. ‘Speaking of the kingdom. What have I missed?’

  Glaukos took a deep breath. ‘The Blackwell Mines.’

  Dion’s lips thinned. This wasn’t going to be good. ‘Go on.’

  ‘As far as I know, neither Tanus nor Sindara have actually declared war, but there have been clashes, with casualties on both sides. The latest word is that the eldren have seized the mines, and now it’s the Tanusians trying to drive them away and reclaim them. We could send som
e men . . .’

  ‘I won’t send soldiers to attack the mine,’ Dion said firmly. ‘That is a line I will not cross. I took Queen Zanthe’s side, as you insisted—’

  ‘Because Tanus is in the right! They’ve operated the mines since your father was a young man.’

  ‘Yet the eldren believe the mines are inside Sindara’s borders.’

  ‘You are the king of Xanthos,’ Glaukos growled. ‘You know as well as I do that we had to take the side of our ally, a fellow Galean nation, or your . . . unusual heritage would have raised questions.’

  Dion held up a hand. ‘I understand. I sent soldiers.’

  ‘But when the eldren surrounded the mine you ordered them to leave their posts and return home.’

  ‘I won’t have soldiers of Xanthos fighting eldren.’ Dion looked away from his uncle. ‘I know I’ve pleased neither of them. Zanthe thinks I abandoned her, and the eldren think I was prepared to take up arms against them.’

  It made Dion sad to think that he hadn’t seen or spoken to Eiric, Zachary, or Liana for so long, not since before he’d led the Free Men. He had wanted to visit Sindara personally to explain that he’d had no choice besides supporting Tanus, but his coronation got in the way. His eyes narrowed. And if Eiric had wanted to discuss the situation rather than provoke conflict, he could have sent someone to Xanthos.

  Nonetheless, if the people of Tanus and the eldren of Sindara were killing each other, he had to put a stop to it.

  ‘I’ll try to get another message through to King Eiric,’ Dion said. ‘Perhaps we’ll get a reply this time. What else?’

  ‘The coming election in Phalesia. Word is that Nilus is about to be defeated by Philippos. Lord Philippos and his daughter Isobel are soon going to be visiting Xanthos.’ Glaukos hesitated. His voice softened from a barking growl to a gentle pleading. ‘Dion, you cannot keep holding on to your memory of Chloe. She has been dead for more than half a year. It is past time you moved on.’

  Dion broke away from his uncle’s intent stare. Even hearing her name made him think of how she’d died, far from home, searching for her exiled father, murdered by bandits, her body left at the side of the road like a discarded rag.

  ‘A king has responsibilities to his kingdom,’ Glaukos continued. ‘When Philippos and Isobel are here, I want you to be welcoming to them both. Do you understand? You have no heir. I won’t back down on this.’

  Dion sighed, but he nodded. ‘I’ll give them a proper welcome.’

  With so much to attend to in Xanthos, perhaps Cob had been right and he shouldn’t have gone in person to Malakai.

  But something told him that he hadn’t seen the last of King Palemon.

  11

  Palemon sat on the ebony throne while Kyphos stood beside him. Gathered around them, dressed in a motley array of pelts from the great cats, were the seven clan leaders who’d helped capture Malakai. They’d all become rich men after their conquest of the city, but then the news came that they’d all been expecting.

  ‘Word is that the king of Ilea is amassing a huge army,’ Alfad said. A dark-skinned warrior with ritual scars on his face, he was the leader of Clan Matanu, and generally spoke for the group. ‘How can we hold out against such a strong force?’

  The other clan leaders nodded gravely.

  Palemon leaned forward, sweeping his gaze over the assembled headmen. ‘Have you forgotten the wind summoned by the sorceress? Since then, with access to the city’s resources, we have constructed more weapons of silver, copper, and iron for the dozen sorcerers she leads. Believe me when I say that you have seen only a small part of what our magi are capable of. Not only do we have the gods on our side, but each of our warriors is worth a hundred of Ilea’s.’ He spoke with certainty. ‘No matter how many men they have, we will defeat them.’

  ‘King Palemon . . .’ Alfad hesitated. ‘We would like your permission to return to our wives, daughters, and mothers in the desert.’

  Kyphos spoke up. ‘You all gave your oaths to serve your king.’

  ‘And we intend to fulfill our oaths,’ Alfad said. ‘Of course we do. There are a dozen more tribes who will now join us. We can return with hundreds more warriors.’

  ‘And tell me, Alfad,’ Kyphos said. ‘This return. Will it take place before or after the arrival of the Ileans?’

  ‘We will return as soon as we can,’ Alfad said, spreading his hands. A chorus of assent from the other clan leaders greeted his words. ‘We will remain only long enough to check on our families and organize a meeting of headmen.’

  Kyphos glared at Alfad. ‘You didn’t answer my quest—’

  ‘I will grant your request. You may leave,’ Palemon interrupted.

  Kyphos scowled, but he didn’t open his mouth. Where Zara concerned herself with magic, it was his role to worry about their fighting forces.

  ‘Thank you, King Palemon.’ Alfad bowed, and the other six clan leaders all bowed, smiling and murmuring their appreciation. ‘We will return as soon as we can.’

  ‘I understand,’ Palemon said. ‘Go, all of you. Go with my blessing. Take your plunder with you.’

  ‘Great King . . . Thank you.’

  Palemon waved them away.

  As soon as the clan leaders had left, Kyphos’s eyes narrowed. ‘Sire, we need them.’

  ‘We don’t. Their numbers were useful when we seized this city, but they are correct – against a disciplined army, these tribesmen aren’t what will make the difference.’

  ‘Then what will?’ Kyphos’s bushy eyebrows came together. ‘Six sets of copper chains?’

  ‘There may be more.’

  ‘We’ve scoured the city. Even Zara agrees, there are no more to be found. And how do we know that the chains will do what the sorceress says?’

  Hearing the metallic tinkle of jewelry, Palemon looked up to see Zara entering the throne room. The sorceress glanced at Kyphos and then met Palemon’s eyes as she approached.

  ‘I believe the chains are serviceable,’ she said, ‘although they are the work of Archmagus Nisos, and it is beyond my ability to make more.’

  ‘Think about it, Kyphos,’ Palemon said, pounding a fist into his open palm. ‘Six strong warriors or skilled sorcerers on the backs of dragons. This is our destiny.’

  ‘With only one problem that I can see,’ Kyphos persisted. ‘Where do we find the dragons? Do you plan on going to war with the eldren? Assaulting Sindara, as we did long ago?’

  ‘No, you have reason to be skeptical . . . The eldren are too powerful for us as we are,’ Palemon said. ‘And you are correct. First we need to see if the magic functions, if a dragon can be harnessed and brought under control. We need a subject.’

  ‘How is capturing a single eldran any easier?’ Kyphos raised an eyebrow. ‘They have a magical bond. An attack on one is an attack on them all. And how will you coerce it into changing its form?’

  ‘There are ways,’ Zara said softly.

  ‘It is a shame the king of Xanthos is no longer here,’ Kyphos said with a snort.

  Silence filled the room after he spoke. Palemon tugged on the braids of his beard, before he and Zara exchanged glances. Kyphos’s incredulous eyes grew wider and wider as he looked from face to face.

  ‘Perhaps he could be,’ Palemon mused. ‘Zara? What are your thoughts?’

  ‘It could work . . .’

  Kyphos frowned. ‘Sorceress, not long ago you advised us to let him leave without hindrance. You said he was too powerful for us. Now you think we can go to Xanthos and what, take him captive?’

  ‘I said we were unprepared for him. He took us by surprise. But he lives as a man, and has a man’s weaknesses. All we would have to do is find the right leverage, and for him to vanish without being traced back to Malakai.’

  ‘He’s a king!’ Kyphos protested. ‘You heard the clan leaders. Kargan of Ilea is sending his armies to retake this city. Don’t we have enough enemies as it is?’

  ‘Great power never comes without risk.’

 
‘Perhaps there’s another half-breed somewhere. Someone who isn’t a king—’

  ‘Silence,’ Palemon growled.

  He furrowed his brow as both Kyphos and Zara waited for him to come to a decision. Their position in Malakai was precarious. Back in Necropolis, people were starving. While Ilea’s soldiers were no match for Palemon’s cold bloods, a hundred and fifty men could only face so many. He needed a fleet, and to get it he needed power. He remembered the awe he’d felt gazing up at the statue depicting his ancestor, an ancestor who had dominated the world from the back of a dragon.

  ‘Do it,’ Palemon said. ‘Make this your priority. Go to Xanthos. Find his weakness. He must have a child or a wife. Use someone he loves to bend him to your will.’

  ‘Sire . . .’ Kyphos tried again. ‘We would be risking the wrath of Xanthos. Surely there is an easier target? Perhaps we could raid Sindara—’

  Palemon shook his head as he interrupted. ‘Kings have more weaknesses than other men. Sindara is far away, and the eldren are more dangerous than the Xanthians; it takes time for men to mobilize to wage war, whereas the eldren could be on us in moments. No, this is the path we must follow. We need a single subject, one who can be controlled. We must find out what the chains are capable of. Then, and only then, can we consider seizing any eldren from their homeland.’

  Zara nodded, while Kyphos’s scowl only deepened.

  ‘There will be no more discussion. I want you both to leave for Xanthos,’ Palemon ordered. ‘Work together. I’m counting on you.’

  12

  Chloe stood on a tall cliff, facing the sea, with Zedo beside her. They both held staffs in their hands, crowned with silver spirals, the pale metal twisted into a conical shape.

  She kept her mind calm and concentrated on the feel of the wind against her cheeks. She thought of wind without sound. She felt the fire inside her roar, and the tongue of silver flame rose up. This time, unlike the last, she was clutching a wind staff, clenched fingers pressed to the base of the metal.

  She closed her eyes as she felt the silver flame leave the confines until it suddenly sizzled throughout her body, making her gasp. Opening her eyes again, she released it, and the whitened flame inside her now left the fire completely, directed through her hand into the matching silver twist. The device glowed brightly, fairly humming with power. She then swept her staff from left to right.