‘Look ahead of us, you fool,’ Chloe said.
Dion stopped what he was doing long enough to see the growing silhouette of mountains rising out of the sea ahead. ‘Land.’
‘Yes, land. Where do you think it is? Athos?’
‘No,’ he said instantly. ‘Athos is low lying, and this place is too high. My guess is Orius or Parnos.’ He turned back to her, and now there was light in his eyes. ‘We might be able to get help. Perhaps another boat. If this is Orius then we’re not far from Xanthos.’
He continued to empty out the water, but it took an eternity before he’d made a noticeable difference. He checked the sail and then hauled on the rope to bring it in on a closer set. The Calypso leaned over and noticeably increased speed.
‘Head directly for land,’ Dion instructed. ‘This boat won’t last much longer.’
Chloe bit off a rejoinder; she didn’t have the energy to point out that she was already moving the tiller. Instead they both watched as the landmass grew larger.
She frowned as she looked to the left and saw a second landmass, separate from the one that lay ahead. But unlike the place they were heading for, this was a solitary mountain, a towering peak with a broken summit and a thin stream of smoke trailing into the sky. Chloe looked again at the dark clouds clustering above the long escarpment they were heading for.
‘Dion,’ Chloe said. ‘Dion!’
‘What?’ he said, looking back and frowning.
‘Look, to the left.’ She pointed.
Dion swore. ‘Mount Oden. Which makes the land we’re heading for . . .’
‘Cinder Fen.’
Without asking permission Chloe turned the vessel so that they were approaching at an oblique angle, heading for the channel separating Mount Oden from the main peninsula. They passed the volcano on their left and then the island began to grow distant, but on their right they were now close enough to see the crystal white sand of the shore and the cliffs that climbed to the line of peaks at Cinder Fen. Dion fearfully scanned the water all around, occasionally looking for threats in the sky. Chloe prayed the vessel would hold.
But the timbers of the Calypso groaned, and Chloe saw that the water was coming in faster than Dion could bail it out.
‘What do I do?’ she asked.
‘We don’t have a choice.’ He swallowed. ‘Take us in. At least we know where we are. If we can make it past Cinder Fen we’ll soon be at Phalesia.’
Chloe turned them in to shore as Dion bailed furiously. They were both searching the sea and sky constantly. The beach was empty; she couldn’t see any creatures flying through the ominous clouds. Cinder Fen appeared barren, utterly devoid of life. They crossed into the light blue water. She could now hear the waves crashing on the sandy shore.
‘Let’s just hope the Ilean fleet was delayed by the storm,’ Dion said. ‘We’ll be making the rest of our journey on foot.’
49
Solid ground felt like the sea, rolling under Dion’s feet and giving him the impression of motion, but he was familiar with the sensation and managed to ignore it. He and Chloe walked side by side on the beach, satchels over their shoulders containing the last of their food and water. As morning became midday the sun blazed from overhead, emerging from behind the clouds that hung over the row of high peaks.
‘I still think it’s safer if we walk on the rocks, in the shadow of the cliffs,’ Chloe said.
Dion sighed in exasperation. ‘We’ve already been through this. It might be safer, but we’ll walk three times as fast on the sand.’
‘And as for hiding the boat—’
He’d known he was wrong to insist on it, but the Calypso was the finest boat he’d ever sailed in. She had brought him across the sea and back again, through storms and dark nights.
‘I hope to get her back one day,’ he muttered.
Hours passed as they followed the shore, a long stretch of pure white sand that seemed to go on forever. Dion wondered if their quest was hopeless, but he had to keep going. It would take time for Kargan to assemble the fleet, particularly after the destruction he’d wrought at Lamara’s harbor. He increased his pace while Chloe struggled to keep up. But he couldn’t slow. Not now that they’d crossed the Maltherean Sea, with his destination so close.
He scanned the shore ahead and the cliffs above, leading to the mountainous heights, but so far he’d seen no sign of wildren. Even so he remembered the furies that took Riko and Otus, and used the memory to remain vigilant. Glancing at Chloe he saw that she was also performing her own inspection. Dion had his quiver over his left shoulder, his satchel on his right, and the composite bow in his hand, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. He had to be ready for anything.
He frowned as Chloe suddenly ran to the water’s edge, but then realized what she was doing when she returned with a stout piece of driftwood she could use as a cudgel. ‘Good idea,’ he said softly.
They continued to walk in silence.
The beach suddenly ended. Cliffs ahead rose directly from the water, blocking all further access. Dion followed them with his eye and saw a broken cleft in the escarpment.
‘There.’ He pointed. ‘We’re going to have to climb.’
Chloe nodded as her shoulders slumped. ‘And then?’
‘If we can make it to high ground, my guess is there’ll be a plateau on the other side.’
‘No,’ Chloe said. Dion frowned as he looked at her. ‘Not a plateau. A swamp of ash. That’s what Kargan called it. He said that past the ring of mountains is the heartland that gives Cinder Fen its name.’
‘Perhaps there’s a better way,’ Dion muttered as he continued to examine the cliffs ahead.
‘There is no other way. I can climb up if you can. Come on, it will be dark before long. The sooner we start the better.’
Chloe led the way to the cleft, placing one foot in front of the other as she began to climb. Dion followed her foot and hand holds, realizing she was a better climber than he was. There was no continuous path to follow; the slope climbed and then leveled off, becoming easier to navigate, then it rose again, steeper than ever.
Soon they’d gained an appreciable height, and looking back Dion could once again see the island of Deos and cratered summit of Mount Oden. He stopped when he saw that the way ahead was impassable, but Chloe found a path around the jagged peak. Darkness crept over them as they climbed around to reach the far slope, the peak behind them now blocking their view of the sea. The strange clouds were directly overhead, and although there were still some hours before sunset, it was almost as dark as night.
They descended into a gully and then climbed the far side, ascending yet another slope. There were cliffs and ridges all around; they were in an eerie landscape of jagged black rock, desolate and forbidding.
Dion and Chloe now traveled along a thin defile, following a path between two immense boulders slightly taller than waist height. The gap between the opposing walls of rock was narrow enough that they had to walk in single file, with Chloe leading from the front.
‘Look,’ she said, pointing. ‘This next peak is the last summit we’ll have to climb. There’s low ground on the other side.’ She started to rush forward. ‘I’ll scout ahead—’
‘Wait,’ Dion said, grabbing her hand.
He suddenly pinned her arms at her sides, wrapping her in a rough embrace, and hauled her to the ground.
‘Wha—?’
‘Shh,’ Dion hissed.
Silence ensued. He continued to hold her tightly in his arms, shoulders hunched to keep their bodies hidden by the gap between the two rock walls. Dion began to wonder if he’d seen the dark plummeting shapes at all.
They both froze as they heard a strange sound.
It was the flapping of large wings, and it was close. Dion raised his head just above the boulder, then ducked as quickly as he could, his heart beating rapidly as he hoped he hadn’t been spotted. The image of what he’d seen on the slope that Chloe was about to climb stayed with him.
Chloe turned and looked at Dion; he shook his head. As they shrank further into their hiding place he could hear hoarse breathing, accompanied by the occasional sweep of wings. Smaller bits of gravel rolled down the slope; the furies were moving and their breathing was growing louder.
He heard a great snap of wings, like a sail gusting in the wind as it was raised, and then a thump as two clawed feet came down.
Dion tilted his head back; he was staring at the toes, ten inches from his head, hanging over the edge of the defile he and Chloe were cowering in. Each claw was curled and had no trouble gripping the hard rock. The fury was directly above them.
With his arms wrapped around Chloe he could feel her heart beating as her chest rose and fell. Blood throbbed in Dion’s ears and his palms sweated. He pictured the fury leaning forward and looking down. It would see the tops of two human heads. A shriek would summon its friend. They would scrabble and claw at the rock until they had wounded their prey, and then Dion and Chloe would be devoured.
He thought about his bow, but it was on the ground, while his quiver was on his shoulder. He had to rely on not being seen.
The hoarse breathing overhead slowed; the fury was settling in. Dion couldn’t imagine what its purpose was. He hadn’t heard it talk; when wildren became wild they evidently lost the capability for speech.
Time dragged on. Keeping his breathing as silent as possible was taking its toll. Dion felt cramp in his legs and lost circulation in his feet and hands.
Still the fury’s claws clutched hold of the rock, just above his head.
Dion glanced around to see if there was a rock or stick close by, anything more readily employed than his bow. Chloe’s piece of driftwood lay across her lap. But when he looked at it he felt a shiver run up and down his spine.
A hairy black spider the size of his palm was clambering slowly along the breadth of the wood. It had a white stripe across its back, spikes on its long legs, and angry red eyes. The spider took three steps, then paused.
Dion felt Chloe tense in his arms. Her head was frozen in place as she stared at the spider as it moved along the wood, just inches from the exposed skin of her arms. The spider took four more steps and now it was heading to the edge of the driftwood, in a direct line for Chloe’s leg.
Black legs scrabbled as it came forward; the spider gingerly stepped off the wood completely. Now it was on the thin yellow fabric of Chloe’s chiton. Dion knew she would be able to feel its movements as it crawled toward the exposed skin of her knee.
Chloe’s breathing now came labored. She was so tense that he wondered she could stay so rigid.
The spider now moved from the fabric onto her pale skin. She trembled and it froze on the spot, each stick-like leg arched and something fierce in its posture. Dion saw the stinger hovering over Chloe’s knee.
She gave an involuntary whimper.
Dion swept his hand forward and knocked the spider off her leg; at the same time he grabbed Chloe under the armpits and stood, bringing them both to their feet. He prepared to take hold of the fury by its legs, although he didn’t think that in an unarmed struggle he could defeat the larger creature.
But the fury was gone, as was its companion.
Dion whirled when he heard a sudden thump. He saw the lump of driftwood come down as Chloe swung it like an axe at something on the ground. He could guess what it was she’d just killed.
‘I hate spiders,’ she said.
Dion traveled with an arrow always nocked to the string. Even Chloe brandished her piece of timber like a club as she climbed. They passed the final peak, heading up the rock and around the summit, and then, as Chloe had predicted, they were on the other side of the escarpment.
The ground evened and dropped away in a gentle slope. Dion now had black earth under his feet rather than rock. Hardy shrubs grew in clumps on the hillside. The land here was a great bowl, and they were on the bowl’s rim. Despite his urgency he looked down into the wide valley that nestled in the embrace of the mountainous perimeter.
‘Cinder Fen,’ he said softly.
At the base of the valley was an immense swamp. Gnarled trees emerged from a continuous stretch of dark murky water interspersed with the occasional muddy bank. Every second tree was blackened as if burned by lightning or flame. The quagmire went on and on, filling an area larger than Xanthos and Phalesia put together.
‘The ancient homeland of the eldren,’ Dion said. ‘They say that when King Palemon drove them out he intended to take their lands. But then it became like this.’
‘Come on,’ Chloe said. ‘We need to keep moving.’
The sky was still filled with dark clouds and they walked in shadow. The hazy sun had now passed to the escarpment’s far side and would soon be dropping into the sea. The going was easier now as they traversed the high side of the valley, but they were exposed and Dion knew they would soon need to find shelter. They passed the skeleton of a goat – its bones picked completely clean – reminding them both of the danger posed by furies and dragons, ogres and giants.
They searched as they walked, but by the time complete darkness came they still hadn’t found shelter. Eventually they could go no further, and they hunkered down behind some spiky bushes with dark leaves and thorns.
That night, Dion couldn’t sleep. He stared up into the darkness and tried to ignore the eerie shrieks and growls that seemed to come from everywhere. But despite the danger, one fear was strongest of all.
How far behind them was Solon?
50
More than a hundred oars rose and fell in unison, while the hoisted sail snapped and crackled in the gusting wind, causing the timbers of the mast to groan. Solon was aboard the Nexotardis as it carved through the waves, leading a flotilla of two dozen similar vessels. Soldiers filled the decks of every ship; they were heavy in the water and Kargan constantly fumed at the loss of power and maneuverability. Many of the oarsmen had been replaced by soldiers, who were both inexperienced and struggled in the harsh conditions. For once, the lash couldn’t overcome their fading energy: whipped soldiers wouldn’t be the best men to lead an attack on a strong city.
Solon understood these problems, but he also knew enough to leave them for Kargan to solve. He had his own struggle to manage.
The pain now filled his chest, sending stabbing needles into his bones and heart. The torment he’d once thought was more than he could bear was nothing compared to the agony he felt now. His soul was being drawn through the jagged gates of Ar-Rayan on its passage to the afterlife. He was being tortured on the way.
Yet as he paced on the upper deck of the Nexotardis he applied the iron control that had seen him through the difficult situations of the past. He allowed nothing of his agony to show. His limbs were filled with urgency and fire. His eyes burned with intensity as he kept his mind firmly on his prize. He had committed deeds that might weigh heavily against him when judged by the sun god, but he had brought the nation of Ilea to a new, golden age. He fixed his thoughts on the prize. When he died, his body would enter the pyramid and his magi and sun priests would perform the necessary rites. He would wake in paradise.
He visualized it now. A palace in the clouds would make his crude home in Lamara look like the dirty mortal residence it was. His carnal desire, which the pain had taken away, would return with force. He would have countless women in his harem, a different consort for every time the mood came up
on him, some with the high cheekbones and ebony skin of faraway Imakale and others with the ethereal complexion of the Galean nations. He would have small-breasted girls with narrow hips and buxom women as tall as himself but with strong feminine curves.
His appreciation for food had also diminished, but in paradise his appetite would be insatiable. He would eat until he could eat no more, but unlike in the mortal world, he would suffer no ill effects. Rare birds and roasted meats would fill his stomach. Colorful fruits would sizzle on his tongue, tart and sweet.
The finest wines would trickle into his mouth, held in the hands of the gods. Solon would look down at the mortal world he’d left behind and bathe his radiant smile on the citizens of the great empire he had formed, who would worship him as a god. The other gods would raise him among them.
He had climbed as high as it was possible to climb in this world. He now planned to rise in the next.
Solon’s musings were distracted when the soldiers on deck suddenly cried out. They scattered, running to clear a space at the front as a huge one-eyed dragon swooped down from above to hover over the deck. The instant it landed, the creature shimmered as white smoke covered it in a cloud. When the cloud disappeared, Triton stood in its place.
Seeing Kargan cross the deck to the eldran king, Solon joined them.
‘No sign of the spy since the storm. The sea is clear. If there was a boat out here, we would have found it,’ Triton said.
‘How are your people faring?’ Solon asked as he approached.
Triton’s one good eye turned to the line of ships. The distance was too great to make them out, but there were a few silver-haired eldren on every ship, although Triton was the only one of his race to sail aboard the Nexotardis. The men always gave them a wide berth. The eldren didn’t seem to care.
‘Well enough. We are ready for the fight, if that is what you are asking, sun king. Just remember our—’
‘Serpent!’ a sailor at the bow suddenly cried. ‘Dead ahead!’
‘We will deal with it,’ Triton said. ‘It will cause you no problem.’
Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1) Page 31