Copper Chain (The Shifting Tides Book 3)

by James Maxwell

  The lord stepped in front of his daughter, protecting her. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ His voice was shaking.

  Kyphos remembered the bargain he’d made with the man Nilus. ‘Philippos, I presume?’

  ‘Yes.’ Lord Philippos took a step forward, pressing his daughter even farther behind him. ‘What do you want with m—?’

  Kyphos turned and nodded at one of his companions, who stepped forward and without a word ran the lord through.

  The point entered just below Philippos’s sternum, the warrior grunting as he pushed the hilt with both hands, shoving the blade hard through the initial resistance until the weapon slid in more easily and finally emerged from the lord’s back. Philippos’s eyes shot wide open. His face twisted in agony as he gasped. He clutched at the blade, heedless of the razor-sharp edge.

  ‘Father!’ Isobel screamed.

  The swordsman grunted again as he pulled on the hilt. Red blood poured from the wound in the blade’s wake, staining the nobleman’s white tunic. Philippos stared down at his chest and then staggered forward. He fell to one knee and coughed. Crimson liquid spattered from his lips and then he tilted, staring up at the ceiling. He fell backward, hands pressed around the wound in his chest.

  Isobel gasped. She crumpled, falling to her knees before her father’s corpse. There was sudden movement as the dark-haired girl, ignoring Kyphos and the two swordsmen, rushed to the nobleman’s side. She pressed down on the gash in Philippos’s chest, despite the fact that the man’s unblinking eyes announced his departure from life. Realizing her efforts were futile, the novice stared up at Kyphos, her hands red with blood and her narrowed eyes accusing.

  ‘Spill no more blood!’ The high priestess spread her arms and spoke in a powerful voice. ‘The goddess sees all!’

  Kyphos hesitated. The girl glaring up at him from Philippos’s side was young, an innocent. The high priestess was unimportant to his purpose. Nilus had said he needed to kill everyone; he’d insisted that Kyphos leave no witnesses. But Kyphos couldn’t bring himself to kill two priestesses in their own temple.

  ‘Then stay out of our way,’ he snapped. He turned to his men, pointing at Isobel. ‘Take her.’

  ‘No! No!’ Isobel cried, staring at her dead father as the two swordsmen hauled her to her feet.

  Lunging forward, the high priestess grabbed one of the warriors and tried to hold him back. The warrior snarled and tossed her away, shoving her with terrible force. The woman’s head struck the solid stone of the rear wall hard enough to leave a red mark before she slid to the floor.

  The dark-haired girl cried out and launched herself at the other warrior. With a start Kyphos saw that she had a ewer in her hand, and, showing surprising strength, she lifted it high and shattered it against the back of the man’s head. He roared in pain and responded instantly, smashing her across the face with the hilt of his sword.

  Isobel broke away and ran for freedom, only to be met by one of Kyphos’s men. The black-cloaked warrior wrapped his arms around her while she kicked and screamed.

  Nearby, the injured swordsman stood over the fallen girl, his face red and chest heaving. He kicked her hard and then lifted his sword.

  ‘That’s enough,’ Kyphos ordered. ‘Leave her. We have what we came for.’

  The swordsman glared at him, but Kyphos was undeterred as he met the man’s stare. ‘You heard me.’ He nodded in the direction of the sea. ‘It’s time to go.’

  The warrior nodded, but he kicked the girl once more in the head before they regrouped to take their struggling captive away.

  Kyphos waved an arm and with a glare commanded his men to silence, but there was no quieting the writhing, moaning young woman and the soldiers’ grunts as they hauled her down the steps leading from the temple to the agora. Fortunately the area was devoid of people, and he kept them moving with speed as they crossed the paved square and reached the sloped embankment that loomed over the shore.

  He glanced back at the city, checking in all directions, motioning for his men to descend the diagonal stairway, before following them down. He was the last to leave the steps, his boots crunching on the pebbled stones of the beach. Small waves crashed on the shore. A stiff breeze whistled, covering the sound of Isobel’s muffled cries.

  Walking down to the sea, Kyphos peered into the darkness and finally saw a small sailing boat pulled up, half in and half out of the water. He gathered his group and led them to the slender figure standing by the vessel.

  ‘You have her?’ Zara asked.

  ‘We do.’

  ‘I’ll take her from here. You know what to—’

  ‘It was my plan,’ Kyphos growled. ‘Yes, sorceress. I know what happens next.’

  Kyphos ordered his men to board the boat and get it moving. Soon it was drifting away, leaving him standing alone on the shore, watching as the sail caught the wind, until eventually it was gone from sight.

  25

  The rising sun filled the sky with pink and pale gold as the sleek galley approached the pebbled shore. Chloe was finally home.

  She took in the sights of her homeland. She lifted her eyes to the high summit of the Temple of Aldus, remembering the battle to save Phalesia from the Ilean invasion, and then her gaze traveled down the steps carved into the cliff to see the white stones of the beach below the embankment. She’d walked with her father on that shore. Her homecoming was tinged with sadness.

  The central agora was empty so early in the day, but she continued to scan right to the lyceum, library, and the temples of Aeris and Edra. The sight of the Temple of Aeris made her stomach clench with worry. The galley’s bow had barely scraped against the pebbles before she’d jumped ashore, landing lightly on her feet.

  She headed directly for the diagonal stairway leading up the sloped bastion and began to climb, taking the steps two at a time. Behind her, Amos grunted as he hurried to catch up. Cresting the stairway, she immediately headed for the Temple of Aeris, cutting a straight path through the agora.

  She could feel her heart pounding. The sounds of the waking city were distant, barely heard. She swiftly climbed the wide marble steps and took the path that would lead her to the columned entrance to the temple. As the grand structure filled her vision, she stopped in her tracks.

  Amos finally drew up beside her, panting. ‘By the gods,’ he said under his breath.

  Dozens of armored soldiers wearing the blue cloaks of Phalesia surrounded the area. There were so many of them.

  Far too many for a normal day.

  The blood drained from Chloe’s face. She turned to Amos. ‘Sophia.’

  She ran up the path to the temple, ignoring everything around her as she rushed into the entrance. Sweeping past consuls in white tunics and curious city folk being held back by the soldiers, she felt a hand grasp hold of her arm, but pulled herself free. Seeing that one of the latticed screens separating the inner sanctum was smashed, she hurried forward as two guards tried to stop her.

  The Phalesian soldiers’ mouths dropped open when they saw her face. Hearing Amos shout, they looked past her shoulder, eyes widening when they saw the man hurrying to keep up with her. Unimpeded, Chloe rushed into the inner sanctum.

  She saw priests and priestesses, and blood in pools on the stone floor. Braziers, ewers, and a large basin had all been shoved to the side to clear the area.

  She immediately saw her sister.

  Sophia was on a bed pallet on her back, close to the center, lying motionless with her eyes closed. The girl’s face was a mass of bruises; her left eye was mostly closed, and there was a terrible red mark on her temple. Nearby a priest of Aldus leaned over the sprawled-out corpse of a well-dressed man with dark hair, performing last rites. A priestess of Aeris was doing the same for the tall, olive-skinned high priestess, Marina.

  For a moment Chloe was too stunned to move. Then with a gasp she rushed over and knelt at Sophia’s side. Remembering her vision, she prayed for her sister’s chest to move. Part of her was screaming th
at this wasn’t happening.

  It wasn’t the same as her vision, for what she’d seen in the white fire must have been mere moments after whatever attack had taken place. She was here. This was happening. Sophia had been moved to a pallet. Because she’s dead, or because she’s not in immediate danger? Please. Please, let her breathe.

  Chloe took her sister’s small hand and squeezed it. She leaned over Sophia’s mouth and listened for breath.

  ‘Chloe,’ Amos said.

  She looked at him with horrified eyes and followed his gaze to see him looking at Sophia’s chest. She bit her lip. At first Chloe doubted herself when she saw her sister’s novice’s robe stir. She stared intently, praying for it to be true. Then she saw her sister’s breast rise and fall.

  There was movement, she realized. Her sister was alive.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she held Sophia’s hand.

  Sophia groaned as she opened her eyes. Through blurred vision she could see a high stone roof overhead, glossy and white, reflecting the daylight. She blinked and suddenly tasted bile at the back of her throat as her stomach churned. She rolled and heaved. Someone held a bowl as she emptied the contents of her stomach. Afterwards, a gentle hand wiped her mouth with a cloth.

  She pushed the bowl away. Her ears were ringing. Her head throbbed with every beat of her heart. She gingerly put a hand to her head and moaned when a burst of agony struck like a stabbing dagger. But she was a healer, and she needed to know the extent of her injuries. Undeterred, she continued to press her face, feeling lower down and wincing at the bruises on her cheek. Her lip was swollen and painful to touch. Despite the fact that the Temple of Aeris was shadowed, the light was so strong that she was forced to close her eyes.

  The ringing in her ears slowly died down and she was able to hear words, spoken in a soft, feminine voice. A familiar voice. She felt confused; she wondered if she was thinking clearly.

  ‘Sophia . . .’ The voice sounded wretched. ‘Oh, Sophia.’

  With a gasp, Sophia suddenly remembered. She again saw the sword plunging into Philippos’s chest. Isobel’s struggles as the men took her away . . . The high priestess slamming against the wall . . . The hunchback who gave the orders.

  ‘Isobel,’ Sophia gasped.

  ‘The men who took her are long gone,’ a grim male voice said. Recollection penetrated through the haze of pain.

  ‘Amos?’

  ‘I’m here,’ Amos said. ‘No one’s going to hurt you again. Not while I’m here.’

  ‘We’re both here,’ the female voice said. Experienced hands began to dab at Sophia’s face with a moist cloth.

  Sophia felt as if she couldn’t breathe. ‘Chloe,’ she whispered. ‘Chloe?’ She started to cry. ‘It can’t be you.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I came as quickly as I could.’ She could hear tears through her sister’s voice.

  ‘I don’t understand. You’re alive?’ Sophia briefly wondered if she was dreaming, but the pain told her this was real. She’d been alone for so long, with no one to turn to.

  ‘I’m here, Sophia. How do you feel? Try not to move too much. You’ve taken some injuries to the head. I’ve cleaned the wounds, and I think you’ll be all right, but you need to rest. Do you remember what happened?’

  Sophia tried to think. She gained the impression that there were several people standing around her besides Amos and Chloe, listening to her words. ‘Men came to the temple. They killed Philippos and took Isobel.’ She sucked in a sharp breath. ‘High Priestess Marina? Is she all right?’

  ‘She’s dead,’ Amos said. ‘I’m sorry, Sophia.’ He leaned in closer. ‘These men. Do you remember what they looked like?’

  Sophia would never forget the hunchback’s dark eyes. As she fitted the pieces together, connecting Eudora’s story with the events of the previous night, she gasped. ‘Nilus! He was behind it.’

  She forced her good eye open and stared up at her sister, seeing Chloe’s concerned face hovering over her. It was true. Chloe was alive and kneeling beside her. It really is her.

  Chloe and Amos exchanged glances.

  ‘Nilus? How do you know?’ Chloe asked.

  ‘I’ve had someone watching him. Eudora, one of his servants. A few days ago she saw a hunchback with Nilus, and then last night a hunchback came to the temple and killed Philippos and took Isobel.’

  ‘Nilus killed Father,’ Chloe said.

  Sophia looked up into her sister’s eyes. ‘I . . . I suspected . . . but . . .’

  ‘It was Nilus and three others. Nilus held the blade himself.’ Chloe turned to someone. ‘Have you sent word to King Dion?’

  ‘Yes, a fast messenger.’

  ‘Send two more. By sea and by road.’ Chloe then turned to Amos. ‘In the meantime, Amos, do you still have friends among the soldiers?’

  He nodded. ‘A few.’

  ‘Sophia, what was the servant’s name? The one who saw Nilus with the man who killed Philippos?’

  ‘Eudora.’

  ‘Where can I find her?’ Chloe’s eyes narrowed. ‘It’s time to deal with Nilus once and for all.’

  26

  The Assembly of Consuls was in session at the lyceum. The men sitting on the raised tiers surrounding the central floor were shouting, angry and red-faced. As first consul, and – after Lord Philippos’s murder – the man now certain to be re-elected, Nilus was speaking, but struggling to be heard over the din.

  ‘Not only is this sacrilege,’ he thundered from the speaking floor, despite the fact that half the seated men around him weren’t listening, ‘but it is also an outrage, an assault on our very institutions and the people we most hold dear. It is sacrilege. Sacrilege! Any attack on a consul is an attack on our entire Assembly. And the capture of Lady Isobel, well, that – that! – is an affront to all of our sons and daughters.’

  Lord Philippos’s supporters, on the opposite side of the gallery from Nilus’s faction, shook their fists and cried out. ‘Sit down!’ an elderly consul shouted. ‘You were no friend to Philippos. Who will challenge you now, Nilus the Sly?’

  Ignoring him, Nilus pressed on. ‘We must do what we can to aid the king of Xanthos. It is obvious that whoever these men were, they came to kidnap Isobel and her father got in the way.’

  As another roar of outrage greeted Nilus’s words, Chloe moved quickly through the crowd, heading down the long series of steps that doubled as seats to reach the floor. Men turned in surprise when she pushed through, but then fell silent, stunned when they recognized her. The din faded. The youngest men were surprised to see a woman in the lyceum, but the rest were shocked beyond belief. They remembered seeing Chloe in this very building defending the eldren. But Chloe, daughter of Aristocles, was supposed to be dead.

  Reaching the floor, empty except for Nilus, she raised her voice as she approached the portly first consul. She came to a halt in the center of the lyceum. Her eyes narrowed, staring at him directly. Rather than apprehension or fear, she felt only anger.

  ‘I agree with you, Uncle Nilus,’ she called out. ‘Philippos did get in the way. Like my father, Aristocles, he was an obstacle to your ambition.’

  ‘Chloe?’ Nilus’s mouth dropped open. His face was pale; for a moment he was at a loss for words. ‘What are you doing here?’ Regaining his composure, he frowned. ‘We are in session – no women allowed!’

  His allies raised their voices. ‘Get her out!’

  But the faction of consuls loyal to the late Lord Philippos stood up and cried, ‘Let her speak!’

  Chloe raised her hand. As the lyceum fell silent, the consuls sat down again, many leaning forward to hear what she was going to say. Having seen her father practice his speeches a thousand times, Chloe knew to speak clearly, turning and sweeping her eyes over the rows of staring men, so that everyone present could hear her words. ‘I think that this time, on this day, the Assembly can make an exception.’

  Now the common citizens on the higher tiers were calling out to allow Chloe to speak. Arist
ocles had served as first consul since before most of them had come of age. The appearance of his daughter, a woman once wed to Nikolas of Xanthos and long supposed dead, was something they wouldn’t allow Nilus to simply dismiss.

  As the shouts became a growing clamor, a panicked Nilus looked up, past the rows of faces. ‘Guards!’ But no guards came forward, and he glanced around, spreading his hands. ‘Lord Aristocles’ daughter is alive,’ he said weakly. ‘I suggest an adjournment . . .’

  ‘There will be no adjournments!’ Chloe thundered, and instantly the entire lyceum went silent. ‘Philippos was not the first man to get in your way, First Consul. You murdered my father, Aristocles, elected leader of Phalesia, and I am here to make sure that everybody knows.’

  ‘Utter nonsense.’ Nilus peered at the upper tiers again. ‘Guards!’

  In unison, a dozen men in hooded cloaks, scattered around the chamber, rose to their feet. They threw back their hoods and opened their cloaks to reveal grim faces and leather armor. Each soldier placed a hand on the sword at his side.

  Chloe deliberately rested her eyes on Amos, standing three tiers above the floor. Following her gaze, the consuls and citizens all gasped audibly as they saw his craggy face, somber eyes, and the blue cloak of Phalesia on his shoulders. Murmurs filled the lyceum as they recognized the former captain of the city guard, connecting his disappearance with the time of Aristocles’ death.

  ‘Two soldiers witnessed Nilus and three others kill my father,’ Chloe called in a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone present. ‘All four murderers wielded a knife. All four have blood on their hands.’ She whirled and pointed. ‘I name the three other killers as Consul Harod, Consul Leon, and Consul Anneas.’

  ‘Preposterous!’ gray-bearded Consul Harod cried.

  Consul Anneas folded his arms and shook his head. ‘The ravings of a mad woman.’

  ‘I refuse to hear another word of this.’ Consul Leon began to rise from his seat but a cloaked and hooded man behind him gripped his shoulders, pressing Leon back down and shaking his head.